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bakugoushotwife · 11 months

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inextricable (sasuke x reader)

a/n: just gonna dip my toes in the naruto water..see what we think. It's been so long since I watched Shipudden so if I get something wrong...no I didnt xoxo. this is definitely gonna need a second part, I wanna see if anyone likes it before I get too ahead of myself.

summary: Itachi spared two souls that night, his brother and the sister of the man he held most dear. No one can find the second Uchiha, no one can find out that there is a pureblood male and female still alive, ones that were born to be...inextricable.

pairings: sasuke x reader, maybe some naruto x reader if you squint

warnings: mentions of blood and death, angst!!! asshole Uchiha nonsense, dad mode Kakashi, reader is a bully lmfao, uhhhh long as shit

wc: 7840

next final

You were born to be best friends. At least, that’s what each of your parents had in mind. When Hae Uchiha told Mikoto that she was once again pregnant, the latter practically jumped for joy. She was a few months along with another boy, and she imagined your mother’s next child would make a perfect pal for her second born. Itachi and Shisui got along famously, the two borderline inseparable.

Mikoto extended her hand to cover Hae’s not-yet showing stomach. “How far along?” She asked with a warm smile on her lips.

Hae closed her eyes and returned the same embraceful grin. “Just a few months, she should be born soon after your boy!”

“She! How exciting, I’m sure Sasuke will protect her for her whole life! Have you decided on a name yet?”

“Y/N…I always dreamed of naming my daughter Y/N.”

Mikoto returns her hand to her own stomach, her bump showing through. “That’s beautiful, Sasuke and Y/N…yes, they’ll be another version of our Itachi and Shisui!”

Hae beamed, knowing that her daughter would have a forever ally.

Well, she had hoped, anyway.

Nonetheless, you and Sasuke never spoke. He went out of his way to stay out of your path and you did the same for him. Truth be told, there was a great reason. There was hurt, and anger, and most forcefully, the fear, and what you had to do to hide.

You had been friends, once. Just like your mothers had wanted, from birth, the two of you became inseparable. Where Shisui was a few years older than Itachi, feeling like an older brother to two now; Sasuke was only a few months your senior, making the two of you closer than even your own siblings.

Make no mistake, Shisui’s love for his younger sister was widely known and highly regarded. One might mistake you as his own daughter, if he wasn’t just nine years old. You were a much anticipated gift to the boy, he had been begging for a sibling for years. And his parents tried and tried to fulfill this wish, overjoyed when it came true. You truly were the pride of your branch, as hard as it may be to believe with Shisui’s reputation. Itachi was always kind, about six years older than you. Itachi would often babysit the two of you, being the perfectly responsible young man he was. Itachi was just happy to see Sasuke happy, and bonus points for you as well. He seemed oddly relieved that Sasuke had someone to grow attached to.

So you were, for about six years. You learned to walk together, he learned how to spell your name before he learned to spell his own, you refused to take naps without him. Once, Shisui and Itachi built little tricycles for the two of you, Sasuke’s purple and yours green. You rode those tricycles all over the village, laughing in the hot Konoha sun. You would traverse to the mountains and collect fruits to bring back for your mother to bake into sweet pastries. It was magical, it was perfect. Until that infamous night.

That fateful night, the night that tore apart mind and soul, body and spirit. You thought it couldn’t get any worse. A hole had been left behind when Shisui died, something irreparable and ever painful. You couldn’t call it a void, for it was too powerful. It was nearly two years ago now, your tiny body and soul already weighed down with his loss. It created a rift between you and Sasuke, too. Itachi was blamed for his death for a while, and it hurt even more to feel so alone. You felt like you were drowning and no one was there to pull you back up, no one to even notice you slipping away…

You had grown numb to the life that was without Shisui and Sasuke, you went to training and classes like you were supposed to. You did what you were told at home, your parents just as much a shell of themselves as you were. Everything that was colorvision faded to dull grays and empty blacks. Where you once saw beauty, you saw injustice. Where there was once love there was now ugly pain that had rooted, hatred growing in its place. Hatred for who? For Shisui, for dying? For Sasuke, for letting rumors pull you apart? For the forces of the universe that caused it all to begin with? You weren’t quite sure, maybe it was a mixture of all three.

When you came home that evening, it took you a moment to realize. The house had been quiet since Shisui passed, there was simply no joy without him. Yet still, you were used to the sound of your father’s footsteps shuffling through the kitchen, the clink of dishes. The sound of your mother turning pages in her book–everything was silent. Eerily so. A dread washed over you, familiar with the haunting ache. What was left of your heart sank in your stomach as you realize there was blood on the walls. Your breathing became rapid and shaky, you crept down the hall, hoping it was some cruel joke from the village or–or maybe it was paint!

There was no humor in what laid before you that night. Your parents lay slumped over, almost like they were sleeping. Kagami laid propped up against the wall, seated perfectly on the floor with his head tucked into his chest. Your mother’s head lay in his lap, her torso twisted at an awkward angle, legs sprawled.

Tears cloud your vision immediately. You could feel your knees wobble and buckle, seemingly too heavy for yourself all of a sudden. You fell forward, hands and knees catching you and making a sickening squelch. You realize the stickiness soaking into your skirt was blood, the dark red blood of your parents. You scream. It’s more of a wail, your entire body wracked with emotion so strong, your eyes begin to burn. It hurts, it gives you a headache, and when you force your eyes open again, the world looks different. It felt…slower. You can see a glistening trail of what you can identify as chakra, it glows all over the house, coming in through a window and leaving through the front door. This had happened before, when Shisui died. Your sharingan was activated for the first time. This was different, it felt like a new level. You pull yourself up, running at the door. You throw it open and run into the street, tracking the chakra house to house where you only find more slumped over bodies. The entire clan, everyone…they’re gone. They’ve been slaughtered, every last one. You can’t bear it when the chakra trail leads you down Sasuke’s path, knowing you would find the last of your home in there. You never got to make amends, never got to reunite. Sasuke would be dead, just like everyone else you ever cared for.

You’re stopped in your tracks when you see a figure in the street, you notice glowing red eyes, the pattern so familiar you couldn’t help but gasp. “I-itachi?” Your chin wobbled, the tears coming back as you ran closer, relieved to find someone alive, someone you know.

“Back away, child.” His voice thundered, it chilled you to the bone. He had never spoken to you like that.

“Itachi, it’s m-me! Y/N, you know me! I-I’m scared Itachi!” You plead with him, the new vision of yours highlighting the blood on his clothes the closer you got to him.

“The second tomoe..” He revered, a nod of approval following, just as quick as it came, the familiarity left. He was icy again when he spoke, “You should be scared. You’ve realized what I’m capable of.”

You fall back, astonished. This couldn’t have been, no, you refuse to believe such a thing. Itachi wasn’t…capable of this? He looked as if he was going to speak again, but another figure moving rapidly towards you grabbed his attention. It was Sasuke, alive after all.

“I don’t believe it!” Sasuke said, tears streamed down his face, “This is too unlike you, Big Brother. I mean…” He looked around wildly, finding solace in your presence, relief. You couldn’t help the tears, the same relief he had coursing through your own mind. Itachi had spared you both, but why?

“You have the potential to become my opponent.” He directed his voice to his younger brother, ignoring you completely for the time being. “You are someone who could be able to use Mangekyo Sharingan just like me…” The wind blew ceremoniously, whipping up leaves from the ground and sacrificing them to the sky, to the full moon that was the only light to go by. “However, on one condition…that you must kill your closest friend..Just like I did.” His gaze flickers to you then, making Sasuke’s eyes widen.

Sasuke gasps, as do you. Itachi really did kill Shisui. He has now killed your entire family. Your brother, his best friend, died senselessly to the little brother he never had. You were wrecked, this realization makes your head spin, the boy you’ve known since birth…Itachi Uchiha was a cold blooded killer, and your life was forever destroyed because of him.

“That was…your doing?” Sasuke’s brows knit together in shock and confusion. “Big Brother, you…killed Shisui?”

“That’s right…and because of that I obtained these eyes.” Itachi replied stone-faced. As if you needed the confirmation, but hearing the words from his very mouth absolutely ruined whatever remained of your soul. You felt your eyes burn once again, the vision skewing, leaving you momentarily blind before you blinked and everything was clear again. It was clearer than before, you could sense the movements of two brothers before they did them, this shouldn’t be possible. You had just awoken your second tomoe minutes earlier, had you already gained the third through this extreme emotional distress? There was rigorous training involved to level up your eyes, you could feel the drain it put on your body as it began to sway in the wind, feeling light. You couldn’t hold on much longer, you knew that, but you were in danger…and so was Sasuke, you had to fight for consciousness.

“If you attain these eyes, you will become the third person including myself to utilize the Mangekyo Sharingan. However,” He turns abruptly, startling you both. “Neither of you are worth killing. And one day, Sasuke, when you have the same eyes I do…come and stand before me!” Itachi challenges, his eyes swirling into his familiar triangular pattern.

“And you…” Itachi says, beckoning you forward with the point of his finger. “Come here, child.” He says, issuing an order. Sasuke makes a strangled struggling noise before he falls to the ground, the emotional distress leveling his eyes too fast as well. He was in a genjutsu, you realize, by the sounds he was making on the ground, crying out in agony.

“Let him out of that! I’ll go with you, I won’t fight. Let him out.” You plead, not in the position to make any demands yourself. Even fighting wouldn’t get you out of this, Itachi was far too powerful, you could never hope to escape.

Itachi chuckled dryly and shook his head. “No. He needs this. He will foster hatred and turn it into immense power. You…you have to be hidden.” He says, his voice in a dream-like state. He was thinking deeply, wondering what he should reveal to you. Enough to keep you alive, and nothing more. “You will stay away from Sasuke…until it’s time. No one can know your identity. It’s imperative you understand this, child.” He says, and if you didn’t know any better you would think he was panicked. Itachi kept calling you that, child, as if he were not. He was only 14, but he clearly felt much older.

You were confused, but didn’t even know where to start asking him questions. He didn’t wait for a response, just sweeping you up in his arms and jumping from rooftop to rooftop until he was in the trees with you, Sasuke long abandoned on the outskirts of the village. Itachi was taking you somewhere, apparently to be hidden. “Itachi-san–please, I’m scared, I don’t understand!”

“You need to be scared! You have to understand. Force yourself to. They can’t know that I left you alive, they know Sasuke will live…they can’t know that you do as well…it would be most troublesome…” Itachi explains without explaining a single thing. Who are “they”, and what involvement do they have in this? “A male and a female Uchiha could save the clan, they will not let that happen. I owe this to Shisui.” Itachi says quietly, dropping down in front of someone’s door.

A man opens the door before Itachi can make a single noise. He was waiting for Itachi, you realize.

“Here she is.. Train her to be strong, stronger than you. Keep them apart, keep them safe.” Itachi pleads, or as close to it as he can get. He sets you down, letting you see your new caretaker for the first time.

“I understand, Itachi. It’s best if you get a move on, they’ll be on your scent soon.” The taller man says, the cover of the night obscuring your vision of him.

Itachi nods, taking one last look at you with a trace of pain in his eyes. You look down at your feet, not sure what to make of the situation, everything happened so fast. “Thank you, Captain.” Itachi says with a curt nod before disappearing into a puff of smoke.

It was silent. The wind blew again, whipping your hair into your face and pushing the clouds across the moon like it was a normal night. You begin to cry, everything so overwhelming you couldn’t help but do anything else. You’ve lost everything. Your family is dead, every single one. You, the sole survivor, have been placed with a stranger by the very man that murdered everyone you love. The last person alive that you care for is trapped in a genjutsu, lying on the pavement outside the house of his murdered family.

The man crouched down to be on your level. He looked young, but you couldn’t really tell. His face was mostly covered, his shinobi headband covering his left eye and a black mask pulled over the lower half of his face. The most notable thing about him was his tall and spiky gray hair. His one brown eye looked at you sadly, and at once you knew he understood. You felt more at ease nearly immediately. You were still wary, after all he seemingly knew what was going on and had worked with Itachi. But the look in his eye and the expressive way he puts his hands on either arm of yours makes you feel safer. He knew sadness too, you recognized it in him.

“Hello, little one. I know this has been…a horrible night, to understate…but you’re strong. You’re safe now, I’m Kakashi, and I’ll make sure of that.” He nodded determinedly, searching your expression for your next move. He frowns under his mask as you cry, unsure of how to console a young girl at his age of twenty two years.

“What’s wrong with your face?” You ask, sniffling out your sentences and wiping viciously at your eyes. Your mind was all over the place, you didn’t want to think of this night anymore but the only other thing you could ponder was why the man in front of you dressed like that.

He chuckled earnestly. “Oh!” He pushed his headband up to reveal a long scar running lengthwise over his eye and down his cheek to where the mask starts, but most strikingly a sharingan sat in the eye he kept covered. The sharingan consumes a massive amount of chakra for non-Uchiha wielders, so you gather that the eye was given or stolen almost immediately.

“That’s partially why he left you with me. I can help with some of your training. You’re in luck, little one. The Hokage has just released me to be a jonin Sensei. So you’ll get first class training living with me. I…I know I can’t replace what you’ve lost, or hell..even understand what you’re going through.” Kakashi slipped his mask down just for you in this moment, wanting to earn the trust of his new foster child. “I will protect you and make you strong, smart, and ready for this world. It’s you and me now. I set up a room for you..” he adds rather sheepishly, sliding his mask back up after a nervous smile. “We can..make changes to it as time goes on, I wasn’t sure what would best be suitable for a girl of your age.”

You blink at him,eyes still bleary from leftover tears. You wipe at your eyes, your own sharingan taking in his full appearance and making a mental note. His half-baked motivational speech was partly moving, and you could tell he was genuine in this. You tilt your head to the side to analyze him further. He was young, taking on a six year old at his age was surely difficult. He was nervous, you could see that much, but his chakra was powerful and in a way, calming.

“What about Sasuke?” You managed as he opened the door to his place.

Kakashi sighs. “He will be taken care of, don’t worry. We have to keep you separate for now, it’s for the best. When you start school it may be different. Do you remember what Itachi said?” He asks, partly wondering what all the boy even told you.

You nod. “He said they can’t know he left me alive. I don’t know who they are though.” You say, feeling everything all the time all at once. Pain, numbness, sadness, fear, nervousness and wonder. Your eyes were wide and your sharingan kept glowing, a red beacon in the dark night. You looked inside the home, small and neat. It looked like…a real place, which surprised you for some reason. With the night’s events it was becoming difficult to predict what would happen next, in your mind he was going to open the door to a slaughterhouse or some medical lab for testing. You were relieved to see it was a completely normal apartment. The young man led you to a decently sized bedroom right across the hall from the bathroom. It was decorated haphazardly, pink cherry blossom wallpaper was slapped on the wall, a little bed covered up with pink blankets sat in the middle of the room. There was even a closet outfitted with a few changes of clothes, luckily regularly colored. It was a nice effort, you recognized. It was natural for any young man to assume a six year old girl would love pink. Your favorite was green. It reminded you of rolling down hills and the bushes you would pluck fruit from, the trees the sun peeked over, the tricycle your brother built…and Sasuke’s was purple.

“I hate pink.” You say solemnly, feeling bad almost immediately, he had tried to think of your comfort and here you were, being rude. “B-but it looks nice! Thank you…” You looked to him a bit confused on how you should address him.

“Kakashi, that’s fine for now.” He rubbed the back of his head nervously, feeling a bit embarrassed for giving you a stereotypical girl room. It was clear that there was nothing to be assumed about you. “What color do you prefer, in that case? I can work on a replacement tomorrow.” Kakashi offered with a closed-eyed smile.

“Purple.”

Kakashi followed through on his promise. The next time you went into your room, the walls were painted a deep plum, the covers that decorate your bed were as purple as the evening sky after the sun had left, and on a table you noticed a few more trinkets and accessories. There were hair ties and clips, little earrings and a purple headband. He heard the word purple and ran with it. Kakashi wasn’t sure why he displayed all this effort, well he had an idea.

He had knocked against your open door, just to alert you to his standing there. You still looked so sad. It had only been a day after all. At least you had stopped crying, he would happily take the progress. He leaned against the doorway, arms folded over his chest. “I hope some of those things make you feel a little more at home, Kurenai helped me pick them out…” He mentioned, once again, scratching at the back of his head nervously.That was his nervous tick, you noted.

“Thank you, they’re pretty..” You say with a small smile, reaching for the headband and slipping it over the long black locks signature of your clan, luckily it was also a common characteristic of the citizens of the Stone village. That’s the story, anyway. Kakashi found you on a mission while in Iwagakure. You were newly orphaned, and had no one else to take you in. Which, now that you think about it, isn’t much of a lie at all. You were new to the Leaf village, and Kakashi was your young and kind foster father. It gave him a reason to change, and he didn’t know if he liked that yet; he did know that he wanted you to grow into a powerful kunoichi, and he had no doubt you could accomplish that.

He cleared his throat. “You know, Y/N…I..” He hesitated, wondering if it was worth mentioning at this moment. He sighed out and continued. “I lost my father when I was six, as well. I don’t pretend to know everything you feel, but I do understand some of your pain. You can talk to me, when or if you ever want to. I’ll listen.”

You look to your feet, the tears pooling in your eyes again. His kindness was overwhelming at times, you hadn’t expected him to be so warm. He just retired from the Anbu after all, and you were old enough to know what that meant. You nod your head after a minute, picking up a purple fuzzy stress ball. You squeeze down, finding it helps temporarily.

“Mhm, I will..thank you for being here.” You mutter out after a few beats.

“A-Alright. We’ll go out for dinner around 7. I’ll come get you.” Kakashi hummed pleasantly, touched by your gratefulness.

You were thankful that you wound up with someone like Kakashi. Last you’d heard, Sasuke was set up in a nice apartment, well taken care of and monitored by Lord Third himself. But he was alone, and that worried you. He was sure to become a cold shadow of the former joyous boy he had been, just as you are. But even you had another person around, someone to at least distract you from the constant pain. Sasuke didn’t have that, he didn’t even know if you were alive. The last thing he saw was his older brother sweeping you up and leaving with you.

The purple made you feel better. It helped you feel just a little closer to where he was. You hoped he would make friends with the kids in his building, if there was any. You hoped he could power through and find happiness in the little things. Would he try to remember you? Find you, even? Your heart ached, you physically covered it with your hand and winced.

You decided you hate Itachi. That you would do everything and anything it took to get to him and kill him. You came from a powerful line of the clan too, Shisui was a prodigy and the youngest to ever awaken his sharingan before you did it at four from his death. You committed, promised yourself in Kakashi’s apartment that you would train until your eyes bled, you would master genjutsu just as Shisui had, you would master chakra control. You would learn everything Shisui had mastered, and you would kill Itachi the same way he had killed your brother.

Little did you know that Sasuke had made himself the same promise. He would avenge his family, your brother in your honor, he would become a worthy opponent and he would use Mangekyo to kill the man that had caused all this pain.

He was beyond lonely, there was no word to describe the hell he was living. He relived his parents’ death again and again, trapped in a genjutsu by his older brother. But the nightmare was reality. He had no one, everything was destroyed. The only person left was missing at best, dead at the worst. Even once he was released from the genjutsu’s chakra control, the only thing burned into his eyelids was the scene of his parents' slaughter. The only thing he can hear is the sound of your tears as Itachi admits to killing your brother, it’s miserable.

Why did Itachi spare them both, did he really just want to fight? Well, Sasuke could give him that. He couldn’t wait to start the academy, to refine his talents and find a rival and friend that could fulfill his needs for the Mangekyo Sharingan his brother wants him to have so badly. There wasn’t a reality that existed where he would kill you for it, as his brother insinuated. He was sure that his new friends would suffice, when the time came.

Kakashi had arranged for him to proctor your bypass exam the following year. The rules for the Academy aren’t concrete, and you were a prodigy after all. Kakashi stressed your physical prowess and shadow clone jutsu to get you through the Academy in just one year, passing your genin exam easily.

Over time, your numbness had resided. You found yourself motivated by revenge and desire for rebuilding what was taken from you. Kakashi was a friend and mentor, and he helped you train your eyes and genjutsu regularly. He had to, as you weren’t allowed to display this power outside of the training grounds with no one else around. You had to train harder over the next few years, both your sharingan abilities and those you would use to cover your identity.

Kakashi and yourself had landed on a plant style jutsu, where you could summon different plants, both poisonous and strangling variations. It reminded many of Hashirama Senju’s wood style jutsu. Your chakra control was impressive, and your inclination toward medical nin was just another tool in your arsenal. You owe most of this to your mentor, who, so far, has followed through on his promise to make you as strong as he can.

He was impressed by you, a prodigy indeed. It was no surprise you were Shisui’s younger sister. He wondered how you could have absorbed so much from him since he passed when you were so young, now a girl of twelve. He can’t believe he’s had you in his charge for six years now, and how you’ve grown in that time. He cared for you like his own child, even though he was not much older than a kid himself when he decided to take you in.

It was hard work, especially now. He had been assigned as Sasuke’s sensei, along with two other promising shinobi. He was splitting most of his time between his new team and the child he’s been training for years. He found it hard to hand you over to Kurenai, even though the woman was somewhat familiar with your delicate case. She didn’t know your true identity, as Kakashi would never risk that knowledge to anyone, but she had helped Kakashi with the more delicate matters of your girlhood your entire life. He had kept you in his own training since you graduated the academy, it was time for you to join a team and attempt the chunin exams. He knows you’ll pass easily, so why is it that he’s so nervous?

Because he knows the days of keeping you and Sasuke apart are over. He knew he wouldn’t be able to prevent it forever, but he wasn’t ready for you to revisit that time in your mind. He didn’t wan your hard work to crumble once you faced your old friend again, under the guise of an adopted Hatake. Would Sasuke call you out immediately? He hadn’t been given the same warnings to stay away, as far as Kakashi knew. The boy was angry, and he was boiling over with immense talent. He had been working with the boy on chidori and other sharingan practices that he had once done with you. Kakashi knew that there was nothing he could do to prevent Sasuke from seeking revenge, and it bothered him…deep down inside he knew you were the same way, your anger tamed to your own mind. You were quiet all the time, your chakra a lime green–just a few shades lighter than your brothers. He could feel your emotions and recklessness bubble inside you. It was just a matter of time, but the seasoned shinobi worried what would come of the girl once she was faced with the Lone Uchiha, and what would come of him when he saw her.

You were first. The beginning match was you against a girl named TenTen. You thought she looked silly. Ridiculous, almost. Her speciality was weapons, you heard her talking about it as all the chunin hopefuls piled into the colosseum type building. As far as you could tell, she had no special control of chakra or any impressive jutsu. This would be over quickly.

The two of you stepped forward, the sound of your first name making Sasuke’s heart stop. He looked over at the scene, brows knitting together in confusion. His teammates, Naruto and Sakura started whispering about the match. But they truly don’t know how to whisper, Sasuke tuning into their every word. Y/N? Hatake…? It looked like you, at least close to what he could remember. But you were definitely an Uchiha, and surely he would have known if you were living in the village this whole time?

“Kakashi Sensei’s daughter?” Naruto asked with a sense of disbelief. “I didn’t know Kakashi Sensei had a family!” He adds.

Sakura slaps him lightly on the arm. “He rescued her from the Stone! She was six when her parents died and the villagers were just too busy to take care of her, that’s what I heard.”

Sasuke arched his brow in curiosity. Kakashi really hadn’t mentioned you, and the way you walked around the battle ring piqued his interest. You were confident, cocky even. You let TenTen throw a few exploding kunai at you, easily outjumping them. You weren’t using sharingan, he noted, but there was no mistaking that smirk. That truly hadn’t changed a bit, your features easily identifiable to him. It seems like Kakashi attempted bleaching your hair at one point, but it had grown out now. You had dark black roots, your eyes big and dark brown. It was you, there was no argument to be made otherwise. You chuckled at TenTen, making her scrunch her nose up in anger. She charged at you with another kunai. You grasped her wrist, quickly turning it and making her drop the weapon, kicking her hard in the stomach, sending her flying through the air.

The crowd gasped, knowing the other girl would be seriously hurt if she landed on the hard ground from that height, the power of your chakra control something to be feared. You closed your eyes and weaved a hand sign. Out of nowhere, a giant lilypad caught TenTen, keeping her from serious harm. As the crowd sighed with relief, everyone watched more vines burst free from the ground, tying the opponent to the lilypad without any fuss.

Needless to say, you won the match effortlessly. Kakashi took a deep breath of relief, wandering over to his own team of hopefuls.

Sasuke stared at you, watching you help TenTen out of the plant trap once the winner was announced. He didn’t even notice Kakashi coming up behind them.

“Certainly an exciting first match!” Their sensei said with delight, as if he didn’t know anything about you and was just as surprised as everyone else.

Naruto nodded with widened eyes before remembering that Kakashi hadn’t mentioned being a father. “Hey, Kakashi Sensei, how come you didn’t tell us you adopted that girl?”

Sasuke tore his studying gaze away from you to hear the answer to this.

Kakashi shrugged. “It never came up, of course. My job is to train you as shinobi, not teach you my life story.” He replied coolly, as if they were unreasonable for wondering.

Sasuke narrowed his gaze at Kakashi, identifying that there was more to the story. There was something he was missing, why would they change your name and try to hide your hair? Why would Kakashi be involved? He needs to find you and ask you himself, because he clearly wasn’t getting anywhere with his sensei.

But how could he be certain you would talk to him? The last memory you share is his brother basically saying he kept you alive so that he could kill you later. Maybe you were trying to distance yourself from him specifically. Maybe you didn’t know he was here just as much as he didn’t know you were. It was his turn to fight next, but he planned to track you down after the battle was quickly won. You beat TenTen in 18 seconds, his goal was to beat that time. Then he would just have to make you understand that he wasn’t a threat to you.

He beat your time by six seconds, dismantling Choji Akimichi in 12. You smiled to yourself as you watched him, he was very good. Just as you hoped. It would always hurt to stay apart, you realized then. He surely recognized you from your fight, so now you had to work to keep him away. Just as the battle was wrapping up, you pushed through the crowds, getting stopped by some of the girls your age. You had briefly talked to some of them, but you didn’t care to now. You had to get away, distance yourself. He would surely come looking for you.

“Y/N-chan! Who do you think the hottest boy here is?” Ino asks, a beautiful blond girl with a ditsy grin.

You roll your eyes at the question. “Really, that’s what you’re worried about right now?” You ask, confused by her priorities. You turn your head, noticing people parting a little down the way, knowing what that means you turn back to the girl.

Ino giggles and nods. “I’m a great multi-tasker! I know all the girls are dying to get closer to Sasuke Uchiha!” She purrs, cheeks turning red at the mention of his name.

You sigh, with forced disgust you groan. “I for one don’t want to be anywhere near Sasuke Uchiha.” You say, folding your arms and walking onwards, hoping the digging comment would keep Sasuke at arms length.

You should know better than to think yourself lucky. You feel a weight on your shoulder, keeping you from getting away.

“Why would you say that?” He asked, voice on the quiet side as he stared at your back. Your hair was wavier than it was when you were younger, or maybe it was just because it was so long.

You scoff. “I don’t owe you anything.”

It was his turn to scoff. “Y/N Hatake?” He practically hisses at you. “I think you owe it to me to explain why you’re not using your sharingan.”

You turn and clap your hand down over his mouth. Your eyes are wide with a frenzied type of fear, searching around to make sure no one heard him. “Don’t say that. You don’t understand.”

He pushed you off him easily, looking at you with a mix of frustration and confusion. “No I don’t understand because no one tells me anything! I didn’t even know you were in the village!” He says angrily.

You bite the inside of your lip, debating your options. Maybe it would be easier to explain it all, maybe if he could understand why this was happening he could play his role and you could both stay safe. You know that would help put Kakashi at ease.

“Come with me.” You order pointedly, walking out of the building with the knowledge that you had at least twenty minutes until your next battle. You keep walking, far away from the building or any people.

Sasuke follows you into the treeline, mind racing. He didn’t know what to expect. He eyes you with his sharingan, noticing your abundance of chakra and power. He blinks his doujutsu away.

“Now.” He orders expectantly, folding his arms over his chest.

“I don’t know why…” You admit with a shrug, thinking back to what Itachi said that night, both about Mangekyo and how important it is to keep away from Sasuke. “But when Itachi took me away, he said ‘they’ couldn’t know that he spared me, that it was dangerous to have a male and a female. He said it was imperative for us to stay away from each other, “until it is time.” I’m not sure what that means, really. But Kakashi agrees…there’s more to this that I don’t even know.” You explain cautiously, your eyes trained on the boy in front of you. He hadn’t changed much, except for the most striking thing. His features were haunted by grief, the once happy and smiling eyes turned cold and empty. You wonder if he thinks the same of you.

“I would never hurt you.” He says simply, a hint of annoyance laced through it.

You blink at him a few times, unsure of how to respond. “I’m not scared of you.” You clarify for him, looking at a spot on the ground. “I’m scared of the ‘they’ Itachi was worried about.”

He considers this, looking at the same spot on the ground that you are, as if there were hidden answers stored there. “So that’s why Kakashi Sensei never mentioned you, then. He doesn’t want me around you.” He determines, the annoyance gone and replaced with a hint of sorrow.

“It’s not a personal grudge, he knows how hard it’s been on me…” You defend softly, the corners of your lips dropping. “Until we know who I’m hiding from, I have to stay under cover like this. I’m sorry..”

His body tensed with anger, you could tell he was close to snapping. “I want revenge, I swear I’ll kill him, I’ll kill him for what he did to me, what he did to you!” He announces, eyes teeming with tears of anger. “We can get revenge together, we can find and destroy those that caused this, and you can live as an Uchiha, like you’re supposed to! You can’t be a kunoichi without your sharingan!”

You sympathize with his pain, after all, you feel the same way. His offer of revenge sounds nice, so you nod. “When the day comes where we are ready to seek revenge, I’ll accompany you.” You say, envisioning the two of you as jounin, ready to track Itachi down.

He smiles when he hears this. “Until then.” He says, taking another look at you. If he wasn’t so damned angry, his heart would be relieved to see your familiar face, just a few years older. You were utterly unchanged, even the grief written into your face seemed to disappear when you smiled. He would keep his distance like you requested, until it was time to enact revenge.

You wait for Sasuke to disappear back into the treeline before you begin to walk back to the arena. It would be your turn soon, and you intend to impress–without your sharingan–just to prove how powerful you really can be.

By the end of your second match against Sakura, the crowd of other expecting chunin whispered amongst themselves. It really wasn’t her fault, she was like the others. She was completely unfocused on being strong, only desiring to look desirable. It’s a shame, you hoped she would change after this. Your Venus Flytrap jutsu was too much against any opponent, she was just its latest victim. Your giant flower sprouts from the ground and grabs the unsuspecting opponent in its teeth, releasing venom on your command. You wouldn’t take it that far unless you wished to kill. You make a few hand signs, “Release!” You call, letting Sakura tumble from the mouth of your monstrous flytrap.

Still the crowd spoke of your victories, all quick and painless. You were surely impressive, and it was no wonder you graduated to genin in a year, just like your adoptive father. “You can tell she’s trained by Kakashi Sensei.” Someone said as you walked past, shaking their head in wonder.

“She’ll be another heartless Anbu member in no time, just like her dad.” Someone else declared, linking your emotionless victories back to Kakashi’s vicious streak. You wanted to lash out in his defense, but maybe it’s better if they thought that of you. It’s good for them to compare you, as if you were related the whole time. It kept them from thinking anything was off, so you’d take it for now.

Sasuke was thoroughly impressed with your abilities, though he’d likely never say so aloud. Naruto was also occupying his mind as his rival was also the other popular subject amongst his classmates. Naruto won all of his battles that day, all his classmates plus the mysterious Y/N Hatake made it to chunin.

Things only spiraled from that day. Kakashi relaxed a little when you told him that Sasuke understood why you needed to keep your distance. He didn’t mind for his team to interact with you as much now, but Sasuke did.

He hated being close to you while not being able to be close to you. That annoying Naruto was quickly becoming a close friend to you, leaving Sakura to obsess over him. Needless to say he hated everything about that arrangement. He didn’t want Naruto near you in the slightest, and he hated pathetic girls like Sakura. He hated everyone, no one seemed to understand. He was training for a real goal, meanwhile the others just wanted to be cool. He wanted more, he needed more. He would never relinquish this goal. He would never admit that Naruto was stronger than him, even if it meant he had to leave to become stronger.

You told him that you would go with him, right? That when the day came, when he was ready to seek revenge, you would go with him. That’s what you said. So Sasuke was loud about his plans, he didn’t care to put Naruto down when he tried to stop him from leaving that day.

Even when Kakashi explained to him that revenge was not all he thinks it is, he was undeterred. The emotions swirling inside him, the life that was stolen away…he had to get that back. And if Kakashi wouldn’t help him do it, then he would find someone who will.

Sakura tried to stop him too, right on the edge of the village. The two of you sprinted there when you heard, Sakura a mess of tears, you a mess of nerves and emotion.

You watched with your mouth agape as Sakura begged him not to go, only met with fierce rebuttals and disapproval from the Lone Uchiha. She even offered to go with him, which evoked a warped laugh from the dark haired boy.

He was different. Completely consumed by his grief and desire for justice. He wasn’t thinking properly, and your heart dropped when you saw several shinobi from a different village drop from the trees. They’re here as escorts?

“Sasuke!” You shout in disappointment. “You’ll make yourself an enemy of the Leaf, just settle down and think about this for a minute, please!” You step forward, past Sakura and her unyielding tears.

He chuckled with mirth. “This is all I can think about, Y/N. I refuse to let Sakura join me on this, she’ll just ruin her name.” He groaned, appearing behind the girl and knocking her out in a swift motion, laying her body on a bench. You eye him in disbelief. He was serious about this. You didn’t doubt your ability to stop him by force, excepting the three or four sound village ninja that would surely interfere.

He looks at you with a crazed glint in his eyes. He holds out his hand to you. “Are you ready to go?”

You look from his hand and then back to him, shaking your head in shock. It’s that curse mark, you think to yourself. This isn’t him, he just needs to see that. “Sasuke, you’re being controlled. You’re not thinking clearly.”

His mouth drops open in surprise. “Oh on the contrary, dear Y/N. I’m thinking clearly for the first time!” He protests, staring at you with disgust. “You told me you wanted revenge too, you told me you’d join me!”

“I thought you meant when we were finished training! As Jounin! I didn’t think you meant defecting!” You defend yourself, thinking of Naruto’s heartbreak once he discovered that he wasn’t able to keep Sasuke.

“Pathetic.” Sasuke hissed, shaking his head at you. “You’re weak. That’s why you can’t bring yourself to leave. You know you can’t take revenge, I wouldn’t want you weighing me down anyway.” He spat, his words cut like a knife.

“Please don’t do this. They’ll send people after you! You can’t do this by yourself..” You plead desperately, hoping against all hope that you could get to the friend you once held so dearly.

“Watch me.” He says, casting one last disappointed glare over his shoulder before walking to the shinobi waiting to guide him away.

You watch him leave, the figures disappearing into the trees without a trace. You didn’t even notice the tears begin to roll down your face, nor did you hear Naruto and Kakashi land on either side of your body.

“Wh-what just happened, Y/N-chan?” Naruto asked innocently, trying to delude himself against the truth before he even heard it.

“Sasuke left the Leaf.” You reply, eyes fixated on the spot he last occupied in front of you. He was bound to be tracked down or hurt by someone dangerous before he could come to his senses. Had you upset him so badly that he would speak of your secret? Kakashi seems to know what you’re thinking as you make eye contact. You knew he wasn’t thinking clearly, the curse…you can get him, bring him back and have the mark removed.

“I can catch him if I go now..”

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

tags: @cullenswife @sixxze @anele-anomis @cigarettesandicedcoffee @jheneaikosbae

#naruto x reader #anime #sasuke smut #sasuke x reader #sasuke uchiha #send requests

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pearlprincess02 · 2 months

Text

sagittarius sun, virgo moon, capricorn rising, capricorn venus, taurus mars

sagittarius sun: the average sagittarius is a carefree spirit always on the hunt to experience something knew. where they go, what they do and what they learn about life becomes their philosophy. a sagittarius suns ultimate goal in life is to explore the entire earth, talk to many different people and take on all the opportunities presented their way. they love to debate and experience different belief systems, many of them have a higher understanding of life itself. truly a pleasure to be around, sagittarians have a wonderful sense of humor and a larger than life demeanor. generous, philosophical, and joyful are just few of the abundant qualities they have. behind the scenes, sagittarius can be very diligent and passionate workers. they love the chase, so accomplishing that next goal is quite exciting for them! these natives behave similarly in love, it can be hard for them to stay committed to one person for too long. there is a restless energy about them and a lot of sagittarius’ suffer from FOMO. although they can be pretty open minded, some are very dogmatic in their beliefs. sagittarius are very optimistic and bright- they are great at cheering up their loved ones and are inspiring when they give speeches. they are extremely convincing in what they say, but they may not always follow through on their promises. overall, this is an extremely lucky, honest and confident personality. it’s often hard not to like a sagittarius sun. sagittarius is a mutable, fire sign.

virgo moon: virgo moons are the servers. these people like to please and they usually do so by striving for some version of perfection. but, like a stressed server, it can feel like they're always doing something wrong. be aware of how you voice your concerns with them because they are VERY sensitive to criticism (and, yes, they can sometimes dish it out better than they can take it). if they get your metaphorical order wrong, pointing it out harshly can hit them extremely hard. this can be a trigger from childhood where they felt like their efforts were never enough. but, the truth is, they can do an exceptional amount of "right" and just hone in on the one "wrong" they committed. they are very efficient and bright and need to give themselves more credit.

capricorn rising: something about them looks resilient. their strength as a person is immediately evident. this is the person you go to when life gets too chaotic. they look older than they actually are. people rely on them and they carry this weight with them everywhere they go.

capricorn venus: leather, red wine, the cow pattern, cowgirl boots, the color brown, espresso, dark chocolate, briefcase of money like in the movies, the movie scarface, whiskey on the rocks, bosses, owls, turtle necks, caramel, wearing suits, lingerie, business, new york ciity

taurus mars: security on a financial and emotional level. they would do anything to ensure stability in all aspects of their life. their senses could also be a motivational factor for them.

(anon ask)

ᵒᵇˢᵉʳᵛᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵃʳᵉⁿ'ᵗ ᵐⁱⁿᵉ

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wanderingelvis · 1 year

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First things first, in love with your writing style! Have a little request for you: teenage!Elvis taking a bubbly!bookworm! reader to a high school dance at Humes. The reader lives at Lauderdale Courts as well and he often spots her reading on the grass in front of the building. The two bond increasingly over books (he could listen to her enthusing over novels for hours) and this led to his asking. A very cute, softhearted romance overall. Thank you, let me know what you think! 💜

i love this request sm, it was meant to be short but i got carried away and now it's the longest request i've written! 🧚

🧚🏻 Masterlist 🧚🏻

word count: 4,762

pairing: 50s elvis x bubbly, bookworm female! reader

Oh Lord, Elvis adored you. You were practically the human version of a golden retriever and he thought you were awful sweet.

Elvis had a tough time at high school, he was a bit different, he liked to style his hair differently and enjoyed different music to most of the folks at school. Girls loved him, but finding friends was a challenge.

It meant that Elvis was fairly reserved, which was often mistaken for stand-offish and intimidating, when actually, Elvis just wanted to make sure he was surrounded by kind people.

Your mother and father had warned you about the boy from Lauderdale Courts, the one that looked "rebellious" and sinful, even if they actually quite liked Gladys and Vernon Presley. But you knew that Elvis wasn't a mean spirited person, he'd never made fun of you at school like some other people had, when he'd had every opportunity to do so.

You didn't let mean comments from school get to you. You knew that it was just a reflection of the whoever had said the nasty words and that they'd learn better eventually. That's what your book had told you, all the characters that had been the subject of harsh words never let it get to them and you decided that you wouldn't let the words get to you either.

You loved books, they were your passion and you would rarely be found without a book in your hands. Between classes, at the breakfast table, on the lawn in front of Lauderdale Courts, you always managed to find time to start reading your latest favourite novel.

And that's how Elvis first approached you, on the lawn of Lauderdale Courts, under your favourite tree with your nose buried in a book. You hadn't even noticed him standing over you until he coughed to get your attention.

Elvis had been through a rough day, he was graduating high school along with you, but he'd started talks with a record label and there was a possibility of even touring and performing some songs. It was exciting albeit stressful and there were a lot of people applying a lot of pressure onto the young star.

Elvis just wanted to relax when he arrived home after some meetings, to unwind and calm down a little, and when he spotted you basking in the warm, golden sunlight, giggling adorably at the book, he figured that whatever happiness you held was infectious - and he walked over straight to you.

He'd always noticed you but you'd never exactly paid him much attention as your stories were your top priority.

"Hello darlin'," Elvis said, crouching down by you as you peered up at him, squinting a little to avoid the blinding evening sun. "Mind if I join ya?" He asked.

You were a little taken aback at first, no-one ever approached you, especially when you were reading and you knew that Elvis was popular with the girls at school, so you wondered why he wanted to spend time with you. Nevertheless, you didn't question it too much, he was friendly enough.

"Sure!" You smiled, turning your head back to your book in your hands, it was Little Women, a book you'd read before but you really couldn't get enough of it, this must've been the fourth, no, fifth time you've read it?

"You're Y/N right?" Elvis interrupted, making you turn your attention back to him.

"Yup. You're Elvis Presley." You said softly.

"You know who I am?"

"Sure, you're in my History class, you sit next to Jonny Albright. You live on the floor above me!" You said gently.

"And you're the girl who loves books ain't ya?" Elvis pointed out, not in a mean way, just observatory as he laid down on the grass, propping his upper body up by leaning on his elbows as you sat with your back leaning against your favourite tree.

"Guess I am." You giggled. "Do you like books?" You asked after realising that Elvis was wanting a conversation.

"Sure I do, maybe not as much as you do, but I like 'em, I see you a lot out here readin' y'know." Elvis said, making you feel an odd sensation for the first time and you blushed a little at him admitting to noticing your habits.

"I love books and stories, my Momma and Papa, they say that it's good to read but I gotta try to make some friends more and I know they're right but I just can't help it, I start readin' a book and I can't put it down until I know what happens at the end!" You said with a soft smile, you did want some more friends but you felt like you found friends in the characters of all the stories you were reading and you didn't actually mind if they weren't exactly real. You looked up at Elvis who was just watching you with sheer interest and intrigue. "You know, my Papa even put me on a ban from buyin' any new books the other week. I just been readin' all my old ones all over again." You confessed.

"So that one ya got there, that ain't a new story?" Elvis chuckled, you were very sweet, he was starting to regret not having approached you sooner. His thoughts about his meetings were already slipping away.

"Nope, this is my favourite book, it's Little Women, have you read it?" You asked.

"No, but I'd like to, when I got some more time maybe." Elvis said, he wasn't exactly sure if he would like to read it, he didn't really know what it was about truthfully, but he was starting to like you a little already, and when your face lit up with a smile at him suggesting he might read your favourite book, he knew he'd said the right thing.

"Oh wow!" You said, excited at the prospect of sharing your love of books with someone. "Well, I'd let ya borrow this copy but my little dog, Basil, he tore out a few bits of a few pages, it's not too bad because I've read this maybe five times or somethin' like that, so I can understand the missin' bits, but it might not make sense otherwise. But maybe, um, maybe you could try the school library! I could even look for you tomorrow at school if ya wanted me to! I really wouldn't mind!" You said, beginning to ramble, but you were just so excited.

"That copy is sure lookin' worse for wear sweetheart." Elvis chuckled, the spine was torn and chunks of pages were missing and you'd sure like a new one but your Papa was right, you couldn't be spending anymore money on new books.

"I know, but it's my favourite story." You said fondly. "The main character, Jo, well she wants to be a writer ya see, and that's kinda what I wanna do when I grow up, maybe." You confessed.

"A writer say?" Elvis said, raising an eyebrow, impressed.

"Uh-huh! A writer! I ain't written much yet but I got dreams and I got ideas and I think maybe, one day, other people would like to read what I got to write." You told him eagerly.

"I'd read anything you wrote darlin'." Elvis said, being simultaneously flirtatious and sincere.

You blushed at the words, no boy had ever said such kind words to you, let alone one as handsome as the one laid out in front of you.

You babbled on some more in the sticky summer air, explaining why you loved certain books, giving Elvis recommendations and answering all the questions he had - which were a lot. It was only when your mother hollered at you from your window that you had to bid Elvis goodbye and scurry in for your dinner. Elvis watched you dash away, turning back whilst running to give him a wave, knowing he was smitten with you.

You were adorable in every sense of the word, cheery, chatty and charming. It didn't hurt that you were awful cute looking too.

After spending all night thinking about your amazing evening with Elvis, you decided to make a beeline for the library during school the next day. You loved the library and librarians and whilst you wanted to be a writer, you sure did want to be a librarian too. The idea of looking after so many books and being surrounded by like-minded bookworms was such an exciting idea for you.

It didn't take you long to find a copy of Little Women and you took it out straight away. You didn't really know where Elvis would hang out but you decided to wander around the hallways looking for him.

You eventually found him, standing next to what you assumed was his locker. He was chatting to some friends who you would later come to know were Billy and George. Tentatively, you approached him, tapping his arm to get his attention. He turned around, looking down at you with a smile when he realised who it was.

Standing next to him, you couldn't help but notice how tall he was compared to you, you felt so little and the way he spoke to you sometimes made you feel that way too.

"M'sorry, I don't wanna interrupt," You said as you realised he was in the middle of a conversation.

"Not interrupting anythin' important sweet thing," Elvis said, making you blush at the pet name. "Billy, George, I'll meet ya at gym." He said, dismissing them before turning his attention back to you.

"I just went to the library, they had a copy of Little Women, well actually they had three copies, can you believe it!?" You enthused, making Elvis chuckle at how cute you were. "Well, um, anyways, I got one for ya, I figured you might be busy, my Momma said last night that your Momma told her that you got a lotta meetin's and stuff so I thought I'd get ya this! You don't gotta read it but it's real good!" You explained, trying to catch your breath from speaking so quickly.

You were a little nervous in front of him and you weren't sure why, he was very attentive in the short time you'd spoken to him, he didn't make you feel bad for being a bookworm, so you were a little confused at your feelings. You supposed you just didn't want to bore him.

"Slow down lil' mama, you gotta catch some air honey." Elvis laughed at your rambling and you giggled. "But that's awful thoughtful of ya honey. Y'know what I'm gonna do?" Elvis said, as you shook your head, waiting to find out. "I'm gonna come join ya after school by your favourite lil' tree and read some of this with ya, if that's okay of course, I know it's ya favourite lil' spot." Elvis said, as you placed the copy in Elvis' large hands.

"Of course it's okay Elvis! I'd really like that y'know! Oh! It will be like a mini book club, kinda! I always wanted to go t'one of them! We could talk about our favourite characters! I mean ya already know that mines Jo, but you might have a different favourite, I like Laurie a lot too, actually, I kinda like all the characters in a way!" You babbled, beside your little self with joy at the prospect of Elvis reading with you.

"This is awful kind of ya, baby." Elvis acknowledged.

He really was taken aback at your gesture. Lately, he'd been in many situations where people were looking to see what they could get out of him and he was finding it difficult to trust people and accomodate everyones expectations of him. It seemed like you were something of a little guardian angel, finding him at just the right time, with no bad intentions, just a whole lotta love.

"S'okay! You got three weeks until I gotta give it back or renew it but Barbara, the librarian, she's real nice and she lets me keep 'em for longer sometimes, especially when they're my favourites, so, um, so you don't gotta read it right away or nothin'!" You insisted, not wanting to pressure him.

"Thank you, Y/N, I mean it, this is awful kind. I gotta get t'gym, but I'll catch ya by your tree?" Elvis checked, he really wanted to spend his time with you. You were oh so bright and bubbly and it just radiated off you, onto him.

"Sure! Bye Elvis!" You beamed, waving at him again cutely, dashing off, not wanting to waste any of your recess time away from your books.

Elvis watched you leave once again and he shook his head, he was falling and falling hard.

Like clockwork Elvis met you by your tree. You were dressed in your little linen white dress, a smock scarf around your hair, protecting your head from the beaming sun and your bare feet with rested on the cool grass as the sprinklers would dust you with droplets of water, instantly cooling you down from the heat. You were practically in heaven, but the heat was a little much for you, even though you usually loved it. It had just been a tough day of classes, you were finding them a little harder as they went on, so you'd concentrate extra hard, giving you a bit of a headache. Mixed with the head, you were finding the words on the page a bit challenging to focus your attention onto.

"Hey darlin, how's ya book comin' along? Think you can guess the ending yet?" Elvis teased, knowing you'd read the book a million times over already.

"Can't really focus, my head kinda hurts." You admitted, feeling kinda frustrated. All you'd been looking forward to during those difficult classes was coming to your tree to read and now your head wasn't letting you.

Instantly, Elvis' protective and attentive attitude kicked in, he was already feeling attached to you and he just wanted to make you feel better.

"Shit honey, can I make you feel better? Can I get ya anythin'? You want some lemonade doll? My Momma just made a whole jug, it's real nice, a bit sweet but you'd like it." Elvis said, suddenly quite worried about you.

You couldn't help but softly giggle at his reaction. You hadn't actually heard anyone you knew curse before, you'd heard strangers do it but never someone you were friends with. "It's okay Elvis, just a little headache from school and the sun s'all. I just wish I could focus on my book, I'd been looking forward to it all day." You said, gazing up at him, admiring the golden glow the sun was giving him.

Elvis instantly removed the light jacket he had on, he didn't need it in this heat anyway. You watched him curiously as he draped it over one of the branches of the tree, offering you a decent sized patch of shade near where you were sitting. Elvis moved to sit down by you, taking the copy of Little Women that you'd got him earlier in the day, with the patch of shade covering his lap.

"Here, lie down honey, it'll help stop the headache if ya rest, you can put ya head on my lap like it's a pillow or somethin', so it's in the shade. Y'know if it's a bit cooler, it'll help stop the pain?" Elvis cooed. "And I can read the story to ya, as long as ya don't mind me startin' from the beginning?" He quizzed.

You felt those funny feelings coming back into your body again, making you feel happy, fuzzy and confused all at the same time. You obediently laid down, resting your head in Elvis' lap as he smiled lovingly down at you. You'd never been so intimate with a boy before, but you felt like you'd known Elvis so much longer than just a mere 24 hours, and Elvis felt the same way too.

The pair of you had such a kinship already that it was hard not to feel utterly relaxed in each others company.

"See? Not so bad is it?" Elvis said, tenderly brushing some hair away from your face that had clung to your temples from the summer air.

"It's nice." You said quietly.

You turned your head to look out at the lawn, watching as the sprinklers periodically spun around, hydrating the surrounding area. It was relaxing to watch as you listened to Elvis' deep voice reading you your favourite story.

You never wanted the moment to end, you finally found a friend who wanted to love everything you loved, and you were in nothing short of paradise.

It was near the end of Chapter 2 that you dozed off in the golden, evening sun, the droplets from the sprinklers hitting your exposed, tanned legs as well as the white little dress you had on, making your thighs appear through the damp wet fabric.

Elvis stumbled on his words after his eyes caught the sight, you were everything he wanted and he wanted all of you.

He paused, noticing the way that your chest rise and fell peacefully as you slept, completely relaxed and headache-free after everything Elvis had done for you. Elvis continued reading the book in silence, enjoying the story and realising why you loved it so much.

It wasn't until a while later that your Momma hollered for you yet again, signalling that your supper was ready, that Elvis pried you awake, your cute little whines making him smile.

"Aw, I'm sorry lil' mama, but you gotta go feed that belly of yours." Elvis chuckled softly, as you pushed yourself up from his lap, a grumpy yet adorable little pout plastered on your face from being woken.

"I gotta go already?" You mumbled sadly, realising you'd drifted off during your time with Elvis.

"Afraid so baby, but we can do this again tomorrow, we can do it whenever you like, kid." Elvis insisted, hoping that you'd ask him to spend every waking second with you.

You nodded, rubbing your eyes.

"You feelin' better now darlin'?" Elvis checked and you gave him another sleepy nod of confirmation.

"Uh-huh. Wanna stay with you." You said shyly.

"I know doll, I wanna stay with you too, you gotta go get your food though, otherwise you won't have any energy to read all your stories." Elvis said and you nodded, knowing he was right. "C'mere." Elvis said gently, opening his arms, indicating for you to let him give you a cuddle - one that you needed right now.

Despite being hesitant, you'd never actually given a boy your age a cuddle, you molded yourself into his arms, relaxing with a soft sight, inhaling his scent of Old Spice aftershave.

"Catch ya later, kiddo." Elvis smiled, kissing the top of your head, making those funny little feelings escalate.

"Ba-bye Elvis." You said, adorably, making Elvis' heart flutter. You were just precious.

Days turned into weeks, and every day after that you and Elvis would meet outside Lauderdale Courts, reading and chatting. He wouldn't often say much, he just loved listening to you enthusiastically babbling away at the current book you were reading. He was impressed at the speed of your reading, you could put away a short novel in an afternoon sometimes and Elvis would try to keep up with you but you'd read more than anyone else he knew.

He loved listening to you every day until you were called in for your dinner. His feelings for you were growing stronger with every word that came out of your mouth and the same went for you, you figured you maybe had a crush on Elvis and you really did hope that he liked you back. He'd never made you feel like a weirdo for being a bookworm, in fact he tried to emulate your passion, just to be able to spend time with you which you thought was awful sweet of him.

You would both look forward to seeing each other in the late afternoons every day, watching the clocks go by in the classroom and counting down until you saw each other. You'd even started walking home together, sometimes Elvis would even drive you if he'd gone for another meeting, which was a special treat for you.

It wasn't until a couple of months later in mid-July that Elvis finally mustered up the courage to ask you a question that had been on his mind after your head hit his lap on that second day, all those weeks ago.

"Y/N?" Elvis said, taking the book that you were reading out of your hands and placing it down on the grass. Elvis was sat against the tree, with his legs opened wide so you could sit in between them and rest your back against his chest.

"Hey!" You said at him taking away your book, you were just getting to the good part.

"I gotta question for you, it's serious now, I'll give you your book back in a minute but you gotta listen to me carefully honey." Elvis said as you sat up and turned around so you could look directly at him, curiosity painting your face.

"What's wrong? Did I give ya a bad book? I can replace it if ya want? Or are you sick? That can happen with the heat remember! I can try and make some shade if you are, or get you some water! You shouldn't be out here if ya-"

"Baby, I'm okay, you just gotta listen, okay?" Elvis said, taking your little hands in his large ones as you watched him intently. Elvis sighed deeply, his nerves getting a little better of him. "Here goes nothin'" He said, partially to himself. "Y/N, I wanna take you to the dance next week. What do ya say?" Elvis said, watching for your reaction.

You felt your heart skip a beat. You had decided you weren't going to go, even if secretly you'd wanted to. You knew it'd be filled with couples and you hadn't really wanted to surround yourself with that if you were going to be on your lonesome.

"Can I bring my book?" You asked shyly and Elvis beamed.

"Of course ya can, sweet thing. Can I take that as a yes?" Elvis chuckled, petting your soft hair.

"Uh-huh!" You giggled, biting your lip excitedly. "Oh boy, I've never been to a dance, I know there was a Spring one last year, but I just didn't have anyone t'go with, and I kinda, actually, no I wanted to go real bad to this one! And I didn't really wanna go with just anyone either ya see, but I just would've thought you would've had loads a girls to ask, I see girls tryna talk to you all the time at school! Especially Sue-Ellen, she sure does like you, sometimes it makes me feel-" You paused, realising you were rambling and maybe saying just a little too much.

"Makes you feel like what, little un'?" Elvis asked curiously. He thought Sue-Ellen was nice, sure, but he and her only talked so much because the pair of you were partners for a Lab test.

"No, it's silly, forget it." You said, brushing it aside.

"No, I wanna know Y/N. How does it make you feel when you see me talkin' to other girls, tell me." Elvis insisted, starting to enjoy seeing you wriggle around. He knew what your answer would be, he just really needed to hear it.

"It makes me, I don't know, I guess, it just makes me sorta wish that, sorta wish that it was me that you were talkin' to," You said gently, looking down at your lap as your sun-kissed cheeks started turning a little pink. "It makes me sorta, maybe, jealous." You practically whispered, but Elvis heard every word.

Elvis took your cheeks in his large hands, lifting your head so you would look directly at him.

"You know you're my number one girl, don't ya?" Elvis grinned, making your tummy do somersaults. You recoiled with giggles at the words, you were just putty in his hands at this point.

You ended up chatting away as the evening drew on, telling Elvis about the perfect dress that your Momma wore to her own dance, you'd actually tailored it a little so it would fit you and be able to attach a corsage onto it.

When your Momma called for you at the same time as usual, you gave Elvis a hug, telling him that you couldn't wait to go the dance with him and you thanked him for asking you.

You glanced at him momentarily before pushing yourself forward and placing your pink lips on his cheek, giving him a gentle kiss. It was the most forward thing you'd ever done but you felt so comfortable around Elvis that you didn't mind.

Elvis was a little stunned, he watched you as you giggled and crawled off his lap, running towards your Momma with bare feet on the grass and your dress flying up every now and again, exposing your thighs as usual.

Elvis would be the first to admit that he'd never experienced love in a romantic way but after today, he was sure that had changed.

When the dance finally came around, you were naturally a little anxious, even skittish, constantly fiddling with the corsage that Elvis had given you, as well as the lilac tulle of your dress. Elvis kept reassuring you throughout the evening that not only did you look completely beautiful but that you were both going to have a great time and that there was nothing to worry your pretty little head over.

"Y/N, I wanted to give ya somethin, it's nothing big or anythin' but I wanted you to have it." Elvis said before the pair of you arrived at the dance.

He placed a familiar shaped item in your hands, wrapped up in brown paper with a wonky bow on it. You glanced up at him, looking for him to give the go-ahead to open it, which he did. You didn't waste any time in taking off the wrapping, only for a gasp to leave your pink lips.

"Elvis..." You said, little tears pooling in your eyes, touched at the gift. It was a brand new, latest edition of Little Women, one that didn't have half of the pages ripped out.

"Is it the right one? The lady in the store said it was the best one they had, and I know you love that raggedy old one ya got but I thought my little girl should have one that at least has all the pages intact." Elvis said, hoping that you'd love it.

You'd never had anyone do anything so thoughtful for you before. You looked up at him with your glassy eyes and he immediately cooed. "Oh baby, don't cry now, it's just a book." Elvis said, thumbing away the tears.

"It's more than a book, Elvis, it's the nicest thing anyones ever done for me." You told him with a wobbly voice. Elvis leaned over and kissed your cheek, making you blush. Little did you know, that Elvis went to the store the day after he'd met you and bought that book for you, all those weeks ago. "And I can fit it in my purse!" You said with pride, showing Elvis who laughed at how adorable you were, as you looked forward to taking it to the dance.

The pair of you began to make your way to the dance, with Elvis holding your hand tightly, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand soothingly as you entered the dance hall. Your eyes lit up as you looked around, admiring how beautiful and pretty everyone looked as well as all of the pretty decorations.

"Wow..." You gasped as Elvis chuckled, looking down at you and watching your reaction. "I feel like a real grown up Elvis." You whispered to him.

"Not quite lil' mama, the fruit punch ain't got no alcohol in it just yet." Elvis laughed. "Wanna dance with me?" Elvis offered, leading you to the little dancefloor.

The pair of you slow danced to the music, Elvis occasionally pulling a funny face to make you do that giggle that he would now hear in his dreams, he loved it so much. You felt your spine tingle as he wrapped his arm around your waist.

Neither of you noticed all the eyes on you, the odd pairing of the up and coming rock 'n' roll star student and his little, bubbly, bookworm, but as the night went on, everyone got a little more used to it and no-one even noticed when you two headed off in search of the library in your party dress and Elvis' smart jacket, desperate to curl up together with that sparkly new copy of Little Women that you'd stashed in your bag.

#elvis x y/n #elvis smut #elvis imagine #elvis #elvis fluff #elvis presley #elvis x reader #yandere elvis #baz luhrmann elvis #austin butler elvis #70s elvis #50s elvis #60s elvis #elvis x you #elvis x oc #innocent reader #little reader

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vasito-de-leche · 2 months

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iff its still alright for requests then maybe somethingg small n maybe sleepy with forget me not ? nothing specific otherwise just

sleepy eeby forget me not fic. either that or wrangling his soggy ass to sleep(for once

;R1999 FORGET ME NOT - "five minutes"

Forget Me Not x Reader. 2.8k words fluff Being in charge of The Walden has its ups and downs - Forget Me Not enjoys being the conductor of an orchestra composed of dying men and women, even if it costs him hours of precious sleep. You make sure to remind him that even the most powerful broker in Chicago deserves a little nap.

this mf has been fighting me for a month or so, it's so hard to write him SLEEPING, HE RLLY DOESNT WANT TO. I HAVE 3 DIFFERENT DRAFTS GRAAAA so here we are. I fought tooth and nail for this, theres 4 different drafts just about FMN getting some fucking sleep. this one even has like, a different version where you fall asleep on his lap instead bc he keeps FIGHTING ME

either way, ty for the request, nonnie! your ask was the perfect excuse to get this done. sorry it ended up being longer than my usual stuff, I just really love the guy

The amount of work needed to maintain an establishment like The Walden often goes unnoticed.

Its elegant ambience and decor, all the powerful and influential people to rub shoulders with, the precise and meticulous organization behind every single detail and decision - all of it can be attributed to a single man, the very same who leads the crowd and makes their drinks.

When the night arrives, he and The Walden come alive.

Hundreds of desperate rats crawl into his den, searching for things they don't deserve: money, fame, fortune, connections, assets. They want to find their place in the world before they're long forgotten, and this is when Forget Me Not steps onto the stage and finds himself in his element, surrounded by all the people who look at him in fear, disgust and awe.

Do they know? That at the end of the world, he holds their fate in the palm of his hand? Him, a simple broker, a middle man.

An inferior, an arcanist.

Of course, the high fades as soon as the sun rears its ugly head over the horizon, his spirits plummet to the ground when the world returns to that monotonous routine. All Forget Me Not can do now is wait.

He would never dream of being so careless as to have his own residence right above his workplace, but he rarely steps into his home in the first place. It's too much trouble to commute back and forth, wasting time in a building that is as devoid of warmth as the blood running through his veins. That private office nestled somewhere within The Walden has become his new safe haven, in fact - with one too many couches to lounge around and no bed in sight.

Not that he sleeps anyway.

Forget Me Not always fancied the most convoluted route into an early grave, and thus has replaced the bottle for something else: endless paperwork.

It's getting harder and harder to conceal the dark bags under his eyes for a semblance of professionalism. How very fitting that, despite all of his efforts and accomplishments, his quality of life continues to deteriorate. What a depressing thought.

The leather of his seat squeaks as he shifts, leaning backwards to fully take in the piles and piles of files atop his desk. His gaze turns to the clock just to confirm what he already knows - it's a little past 6 AM, the cold breeze of the early morning keeping him wide awake. A brand new shipment of materials will arrive in two hours, they will need to be stored but it's an easy enough job for the Disciples. This means that the next important event on his schedule is the meeting at 11 AM. Forget Me Not's face sours right away at the thought, and he reaches for his drink.

And just like that, without any sort of warning, the door to his office is flung open. It's a good thing that despite his awful, awful health, his grip is as steady as ever - not a single drop is spilled. If else, Forget Me Not remains still as a statue, retaining that air of composed aloofness as he raises an inquisitive eyebrow towards the intruder.

It's you, standing perfectly by his door frame. He almost drops the glass once he recognizes your face, but conceals his little slip by settling it back down on his desk.

"Ah, how rare to see you during the day, you're always so busy with errands. To what do I owe this loud, impromptu visit? Keep in mind, I don't start serving drinks until 8 PM."

You don't wait for him to finish, marching towards the small lounge in his office and picking up a small, decorative pillow before dropping backwards onto one of the sofas. A shadow passes over Forget Me Not's eyes - he doesn't know whether to resent you for knowing you have the freedom and privilege to act like this around him, or whether to feel insulted for the way you ignored him just now. He settles for his usual third, secret option - resignation - and makes his way towards you.

Unlike you, Forget Me Not has mastered the art of concealing his presence and so he makes no sound at all when he approaches. He stands right next you, leaning ever so slightly to hover above your face, as if his piercing grey eyes alone could pressure you into speaking.

It doesn't work, at least not right away. You hide behind that useless pillow, then you shift and turn to lay on your side, all while he simply stands in perfect silence. It's a battle of attrition, one he intends to win.

"I slept like shit, okay? Just give me five minutes here and I'll go back to work." Your voice is muffled, but he hears how tired you are anyway.

It's easy to forget that people aren't nocturnal like him, at least not by choice. It's easy to forget about humanity when most of his coworkers are puppets held by strings and ink, mindlessly following orders. When you curl up on the sofa, Forget Me Not remembers just how tired he is and sighs. Soon, he's walking towards the door.

This makes you sit up in a hurry, clearly misinterpreting his actions. "Five minutes, promise! Don't kick me out!"

There's a faint click, it's the lock on the door. Forget Me Not returns to his desk, making sure not to look your way lest his eyes reveal those wretched feelings bubbling in his chest. Did you seriously think he had the nerve to throw you out so carelessly?

"Ten minutes. Make sure not to waste them with chitchat." He can practically sense you silently cheering and getting comfortable in his office. On his couch. It's insufferable, the way you always get what you want while he slaves away with work.

But it's only ten minutes, he can tolerate you for that long.

Three minutes pass, and Forget Me Not realizes that he's spent more time glancing your way than reading the document in front of him.

From his spot, he can only see the top of your head, just a glimpse of your form as you rest your eyes. But every time you move, no matter how subtle, he notices and turns his attention back onto you.

Seven minutes, he only needs to focus for seven minutes. The document in his hand is important: he's negotiating for better materials for his potions at a cheaper cost. This simple deal could mean a lot for Manus Vindictae, always so low on funds, resources and support.

Six minutes. Forget Me Not hears you hum and he slowly turns his head on instinct. You're staring right at him, face resting on the armrest, squishing your cheek against the plush cushions.

"You have four minutes left, are you sure you want to waste them like this?" He lies, as if he wasn't ready to ignore the passage of time to give you a few more extra minutes, expecting you to comply. But you get back at him with a question of your own.

"Did you get any sleep?"

"Three minutes." It comes out as a warning. You ignore it.

"I'm serious! You look awful from here." By now, you're sitting down and he knows that if he doesn't stop you, you'll make your way to him. To invade his personal space, cradle his face in your hands and torture him with your gentle touch. "You're always here when I start my shift and when I finish. Where do you get the time to go home and all of that?"

Forget Me Not would rather swallow his own tongue than to openly admit that he essentially lives here. That he has spare clothes in the drawer by the window, that he showers, eats and sleeps in this office of his. You might've figured it out by now, but with his pride and dignity at stake, he pretends to ignore you in favour of work.

"Hey, c'mon. Don't just go back to work like I'm not even here talking to you!" He does exactly that, picking up a pen to sign a few documents. "Drop that. Drop the pen. Hey!"

You talk to him the same way one would talk to a misbehaving dog, and he hears that whiny, frustrated tone in your voice that he's come to appreciate. There is a pause and Forget Me Not does as told - the pen now resting neatly on the desk.

He finally deigns himself to look at you, returning a small smile.

"Thank you, now, like I was saying-"

Thud!

With his free hand, he stamps a document, never breaking eye contact. The pettiness is always worth it, but this time even more so when he sees that tic in your eye and the way you inhale sharply, absolutely done with him. You sit up, consider laying down again in frustration, then simply cross your arms like a child throwing a tantrum - seeing you get worked up over the smallest of things is always such a treat.

"Fine! Be like that! But don't come running when you- Uwaaah!" A yawn interrupts your words, you barely have time to cover your mouth.

Oh no. It's contagious. He feels that tell-tale tingle in his nose, and just like that, he yawns as well.

"Aha! You are tired, I bet you haven't slept properly in days!" An accusatory finger is now pointed at him, and Forget Me Not fights the impulse to roll his eyes.

"That's quite the leap to make over a simple gesture like that. Your time is up, by the way - please, go back to work."

"I'm telling on you, Forget Me Not. I'm so telling on you."

He gives a raspy laugh at this. "And who will you be telling about my horrible sleeping habits? The waiters? The delivery boy? Our esteemed guests?" The latter would definitely eat up any sort of information about his private life, especially if it was something to ruin his reputation, but he doesn't share this out loud.

"Ahh... So, you admit it, then? Having the worst sleeping schedule known to mankind?" Touché.

Before he can even reply, your mouth opens in a feigned yawn and Forget Me Not seethes when he finds himself imitating you. He seethes even more over the smug smile on your face. And he wishes he could just die on the spot when you scoot over and pat the empty seat next to you. Him? Rest? With you? Absolutely not.

"Ten minutes," a tight knot forms in his throat when you start to coax him in. "I'm sure you can spare that much, since you've been indulging me for this long! If you were actually busy, you would've just sent me home to rest. C'mere, sit."

What is the point in keeping track of time by now? Forget Me Not will be by your side until you decide to leave. Indulging you and your stupid ideas, your well-meaning and annoying habits, your reactions - all of it, they're his favorite vice and he never learned how to quit.

"Five minutes." He sits next to you.

"Fair enough." You scoot closer to him.

He watches when you link your arm with his, not bothering to ask for permission. Typical. Your palm is warm as you rest it over his forearm, fingers drumming idly over the soft fabric of his shirt. But you don't linger for too long, and slide down until your index and middle fingers reach the bare skin of his inner wrist, over the pronounced vein there. Can you feel his pulse? The shameless and frantic beat of his heart?

Forget Me Not is so entranced by this simple action that he fails to notice the sudden extra weight - your head rests on his shoulder, with your cheek pressed against the prominent bone. He knows it's an uncomfortable position, because you shift and nuzzle closer to his chest, the top of your head and your hair now tickling his neck and jawline. The knot in his throat returns and he holds his breath on instinct, like an animal at the verge of being devoured.

Nevermind the constant cycle of violence and doom he's turned his life into, these are the horrors that keep Forget Me Not up at night: your body against his, your displays of affection.

"Your eyes," the soft murmur of your voice pulls him from the awful, nonsensical noise in his mind. You're looking up at him. "You're meant to close them. That's what this whole thing is for. Unless ...you can sleep with your eyes open?"

"Don't be ridiculous. As if such a short amount of time could make me fall asleep." He huffs, a way to conceal just how out of breath he is. Part of him is afraid to close his eyes, knowing that he will feel each and every little thing you do - only tenfold. And what would he do with himself then, when all he can focus on is your finger tracing shapes over his palm? It tickles. It's distracting. It's unbearable.

His hand flinches, just barely, and you interlock your fingers with his in response.

"Hush and close them!" Always so obedient to your commands, Forget Me Not does as told, cursing you in his mind.

He gives you an inch, and you take a mile - the moment his eyes are closed, his body turns rigid but you still coax him backwards, so that he can lean on the backrest of the couch. It takes the coordinated effort of every single muscle in his body not to melt on the spot, to remain in a proper, sitting position. With you nestled so comfortably by his side, Forget Me Not makes the worst mistake in his life: he turns his head towards you, his nose now buried in your hair.

The content and pleased noise that leaves him is something that feels alien, entirely out of character for someone like him. Right away, he feels the tips of ears burning with shame and his body uselessly recoils away from you, trying to revert back into that persona he's created for the world.

It backfires immediately.

"...Hm? Is your arm getting numb? Here, let's switch." You move away, all while your hands cradle his face in order to guide him over to your lap.

It's a painfully slow process that is simultaneously over in the blink of an eye. Forget Me Not doesn't know what's worse, the fact that he didn't put up a fight or the way he feels so incredibly small, being held so lovingly by you.

He's laying on his back, hands resting uselessly over his chest like a corpse in an open casket funeral. If he glances upwards (a difficult thing to do, because you flick his forehead whenever you catch him wide awake) he can see you hoarding all the pillows available within your reach to support you as you lounge about, still hellbent on sleeping in with him.

Did he die at some point throughout the day without noticing? Is this his own personal Hell? Forget Me Not wants to speak, to say anything and regain control of the situation, but nothing comes out. All there is to do is to lay there, with your hands combing through his hair.

His heart might as well burst out of his chest. Even better, crawl up his throat and choke him from inside out.

Without thinking, he sits up. It's a nervous impulse. You can't see his face with his back turned to you and he's grateful for the small moment of privacy, as he steels himself to send you away. Or to fuck off into The Walden and walk around aimlessly to cool off, and then avoid you for a few weeks. Whichever comes first.

"Oh! Want a pillow or something? I kind of just took them all without thinking." He doesn't deserve this sort of contact, this domestic bliss - he doesn't want it either.

"Hey, do you think we could do this more often? Just... make some time for me in that busy schedule of yours?" And why would he? You're already pretty skilled at turning his life upside down with your constant nagging and your antics.

"Sorry for being this sappy so suddenly, it just came to mind...Oh, oh! Wait! While you're at it, mind closing the window, please? It's getting a liiittle cold in here."

Forget Me Not leaves his glasses on the table and lays back down, this time making sure to wrap his arms as tightly as he can around your waist, his face hidden in your stomach. What he receives is a weak chuckle, a weak complaint and a weak attempt at pushing him away. You don't mean it, of course - the same way he never means any of the things he thinks.

"Hm, I believe it's perfect like this."

"You're just saying that because you're going to leech off my own body heat, you little snake."

There's a hint of victory in your voice, you've won once again against him but you're always too nice to rub it in. Instead, you caress the scales on his neck, now on full display for you. It's a heavenly sensation.

"Perhaps," he murmurs, eyes closed. "But what are you going to do? Kick me out of my own office?"

"I might if you don't get some rest. Sleep, now."

And just like that, Forget Me Not unravels - he's been waiting so long to be given permission, for someone to allow him a moment of peace despite all these restraints holding him back.

He knows that the moment wakes up, he will act like none of this happened, that he will stubbornly deny everything until his very last breath, but right now, he clings onto you like his life depends on it.

And he falls asleep with your name on his lips

#reverse 1999 #reverse: 1999 #r1999 #reverse 1999 x reader #reverse 1999 forget me not #forget me not: i fucking hate this world #forget me not the moment you walk in: OMG!!! YIPPIE!!!!#mf is so scary and deranged until youre right there reminding him that hes EXTREMELY touchstarved

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lizaluvsthis · 4 months

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SPOILER FOR THE NEW EPISODE! CHRISTMAS WARS! SCROLL OUT IF YOU HAVENT WATCHED IT YET!!!!

"Hey Liz how'd that new christmas episo-"

*ME BREATHING HEAVILY*

Consider on Smg3 having a good point for hosting his own party (why cant he just throw a party with the dead memes? Like invite them in his cafe right aw-) thats exactly why. Dead memes cant re-enter the living realm. (Also the reason what happened during the 10th year anniversary episode because we DONT want that mess again?

So instead of dead memes he literally chose to host it WITH his new friends this time. Smg4's crew.

"But why tho? Didn't he hated them?" YES. but at the same time. Please dont forget his mere messages during IGBP on the line he says "But I've met your friends man..." again. Ask me WHY theres another reason he moved in next to four's castle?

(He doesn't want to feel alone again not only four was the reason but his friends too)

Okay but when after the castle and three's coffee shop got burned down by santa clause, where do you see that bright explanation from the crew.

AND LITERALLY. SMG3 IS ON TSUNDERE MODE ACTIVATION WHERE HE- BLUSHED- I mean its okay- its totally fine its perfectly normal.

Not for three. He never celebrated christmas in the early 2020 not even after the arc but four was kind enough to invite three in the recent years to make him have to experience whats special about it.

But three was too embarrassed from four's crew because they've shown alot of kindness towards him that he'd never experienced at all and this was his first time hearing it all out on them.

After he says "f-friends?!" He continues on playing "I'd rather die than have you guys as friends"

Which also meant he did. Almost. Die. Saving four.

Did you notice smg4 in this scene? Did you see the way he looked at three? Did you SEE how he giggled and laughed just by seeing his expression?

Heart tingles you know? And this IS also the first time he's done that.

Wait for it...

WAIT FOR IT...

WOW SMG4 THAT BACK HOLD AT THREE WAS SUPER SMOOTH I'M OBVIOUSLY BLIND TO MYSELF THAT I CANT "SEE" WITH MY OWN EYES.

And NOT ONLY THAT- EVERYONE'S REACTION WERE THE SAME PLACE EXCEPT WHO? MARIO.

WHO'S MOUTH IS OPEN AND MAKING A HAPPY EXPRESSION (that also means... HE HAD JUST WITNESSED FOUR BEING A F-KING FRUIT AGAIN-) (MARIO BEING A REAL SMG34 SHIPPER IS SO REAL)

Not only was it delicious- Three too was smiling at four, supporting his idea and not even LEAVING by his side. (Like have you noticed right after both of their places got destroyed- these two completely HAVE NEVER SEPARATED AND STUCK CLOSE TOGETHER?)

This also provens he's on the right role after all. His character development did improve his changing around his friends even after 2020th - 2022nd

Who knows that maybe four's crew knew that three wasn't so bad after all? That he was just in need of friends because he'd been so alone from time to time?

Still. He smiles. Not just for the holiday spirit, but to his new friends, and four to have on. (Mention of mario makes turkey for upcoming xmas episode four convinced EVERYONE from the crew including three, BUT HE NEVER LEFT BY HIS SIDE. Literally the moon is stuck with the sun)

Four and three? They both contacted atleast EVERYONE from town they know. (Even three never considered belle, whimpu, or the so called fake-other-versions of theirs who became his crew during 2020th wotfi he still has a heart to consider them all as being in part of his life.)

We never get a mistletoe scene sadly but we had a precious smg34 collection here...

Even after this hand taking, Three and Four looked at eachother together before they start to sway and celebrate the christmas holiday.

"Liz it's just two of them looking whats so important from that?"

You dont see these fruits being like that often, so its a very rare one in the new episodes. (Considered again. Three has gone soft. TOO soft for being with four's crew and being with... smg4...)

He wasnt even angry or done with this bs he still had that christmas spirit and all that matters is celebrating it with four and his other new friends.

OKAY THERE IM DONE I'M EVEN GONNA BE MORE ILL-

*insert audio losing pulse*

#smg34 #lizaluv #smg4 #smg3 #smg4 smg3 #mario #smg43 #smg7

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digitalgirlguide · 2 months

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Beyond Bubble Baths: A Realistic Guide to Wellness, Hygiene Hacks, Energy Cleansing, and the Art of Setting Healthy Boundaries

self-care as we know it has been reduced to retail therapy and splurging on skincare and the the essence of true well-being often gets lost in the noise of buying stuff.

you're not alone, i'm guilty of this too.if i'm sad i buy thing. i'm happy? i buy things.

and not saying that self care can't be buying yourself things because you feel like it but that's not a true reflection of self care.

self-care is a disciplined commitment to becoming the best version of yourself while tuning into your body's needs.

so what does realistic self care look like?

Take a few minutes each morning to set intentions for the day ahead.

practice gratitude by writing 3 things you're grateful for or using some of these prompts:

What are three things you are thankful for as you start your day? Consider the small details that often go unnoticed.

Recall a specific moment from today that brought a smile to your face or warmed your heart. Describe it in detail and express gratitude for that experience.

Think about any unexpected surprises or acts of kindness that came your way. How did they make you feel, and why are you grateful for them?

Before your next meal, reflect on the journey of your food from its source to your plate. Express gratitude for the nourishment it provides your body.

Organizing your day/week:

Plan with Purpose: Start your week with a glance at your calendar or planner. Note any upcoming deadlines, appointments, or social events. (A little prep goes a long way!)

Prioritize with Intent: Identify your top priorities for the week and break them down into manageable tasks. Tackling the most crucial items first ensures a sense of accomplishment. (Check off those big to-dos, and watch the momentum build!)

Time Blocking: Allocate specific time blocks for various activities. This technique helps maintain focus and prevents the day from slipping away in a blur. (Time blocking = your new productivity bestie.)

Flexibility is Key: While planning is essential, leave room for flexibility. Life throws curveballs, and being adaptable ensures you can navigate unexpected changes with grace. (Embrace the spontaneity – it's the spice of life!)

Self-Care Slots: Intentionally carve out moments for self-care throughout the week. Whether it's a short walk, a cozy reading break, or a meditation session, these are non-negotiable appointments with yourself. (Because self-love is a crucial part of productivity.)

Schedule regular social activities to stay connected: Meaningful connections are the backbone of a healthy support system. (Humans need socialization – it's science!)

Hygiene tips for mind and body

Begin your day with a cleansing ritual that extends beyond the physical. Consider practices like meditation (Remember, a cluttered mind can be just as burdensome as a cluttered space.)

Incorporate energy cleansing techniques into your routine, such as using crystals (clear quartz, black tourmaline, amethyst, rose quartz, selenite) to clear negative energy from your surroundings. (Just as we dust and declutter our physical spaces, it's important to cleanse the energetic residue that accumulates throughout our day-to-day lives.)

Recognize the importance of setting boundaries and restricting access to yourself when necessary. (You're not obligated to be constantly available to others, and it's okay to prioritize your own needs and well-being.) Surround yourself with people who uplift and inspire you, who make you feel good and encourage you to be your best self. (Life is too short to waste time on relationships that drain your energy and diminish your spirit.)

Embrace a straightforward yet consistent skincare routine. Cleanse, moisturize, and shield your skin from the sun – simplicity meets effectiveness.

Practice regular handwashing to ward off germs, especially before meals and after restroom visits. (Your hands will thank you, and so will your immune system.)

Simple ways to show up for yourself everyday

Practice self-compassion and forgiveness, recognizing that perfection is an illusion and mistakes are opportunities for growth. (We're all human, and it's okay to stumble along the way.)

Listen to your body's signals and honor its needs, whether that means nourishing yourself with wholesome food, getting regular exercise, or allowing yourself time to rest and recharge. (Your body is your greatest ally and deserves to be treated with kindness and respect.)

Embrace moments of joy and playfulness, indulging in activities that bring you laughter and delight. (Life is meant to be savored, not endured.)

let's reshape the narrative of self-care into a journey of discipline, mindfulness, and attunement to our inner voices.

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rrxnjun · 1 year

Text

when nobody's watching ;; hrj

pairing. huang renjun x fem! reader genre. high school au/university au, cheerleader! reader | coming of age, platonic, angst, fluff warnings. alcohol and weed mention, swearing wc. 11k (10.932) a/n. no plot, just identity crisis.

playlist. idontwannabeyouanymore - billie eilish ; patterns - sarah close ; lonely - the maine ; rare - waterparks ; always forever - cults ; snow globe - waterparks ; hope ur ok - olivia rodrigo

where renjun can't seem to figure out who he is when nobody's watching and where you carefully examine and amire each version of himself he creates along the way.

When you’re 14, you watch Mean Girls for the first time. In the dark of your bedroom, with your childhood best friend Jung Sungchan huddling all your blankets to his side, your laptop illuminates the midnight with the gorgeous face of Regina George as both of you awe and giggle at the silly script. When you’re 14, watching Mean Girls for the first time, you are very aware of the fact that after summer ends and you turn 15, you’re going to high school– and the image of having to live through the fate that met Cady, you shiver with horror. That night, you are determined to live through high school with a smile on your face. Too blinded by the dramatized image of the high school experience, you decide that you have to be one of the nice girls everyone likes, because if you’re not, you can’t imagine having to ruin someone’s life just for popularity. You don’t really strive for popularity, don’t get me wrong, it’s just that you’re simply too terrified of high school before it even starts.

When the time finally comes and you turn up to the building with a tall, lanky Sungchan by your side, you realize too soon that life is, sadly, not like Mean Girls, and while you’d love to wear pink on Wednesdays and walk around in designer clothing, your small high school in the tiny, microscopic town you’ve grown up in, is too old-fashioned to have their roles divided this way. Sure, the hierarchy is there, and the cafeteria sure does have assigned seats for all the different friend groups and extracurriculars, but it’s not as serious as the story you watched all those months ago with both terror and excitement, making you quickly realise that you don’t have to try hard to fit in with the populars, because it’s truly not that big of a deal.

And so, in the spirit of the new realization, you join the cheerleading squad. I know, it sounds ironic. All this fuss about the fact that Mean Girls wasn’t actually as realistic as you thought it was, all for you to end up with the popular girls anyway. In your defense, it wasn’t that serious. You weren’t even that good at cheer. Jung Sungchan just made you join so you could be at all his soccer matches so he could boast about his abilities the moment the match is over. Curse the boy and his athleticism.

Standing in the heat of the sun, droplets of sweat appearing on your forehead as you tug down on the short cheer skirt, you huff as the cheer captain– Ryujin, as you learned only a few minutes prior– walks around and yells at you with what you presume is supposed to be support and excitement.

“Y/N! Why are you just standing there?” she asks you, her voice genuinely concerned, but also laced with a bit of annoyance. This is the third time you’ve messed up on today’s practice, and while you don’t really mind that much, you think your teammates are close to breaking down.

“Uh…”

“You’re supposed to be all the way over here!” she reminds you, pointing to the spot next to her on the freshly mowed grass, making you smile at her with tight lips and jog over there, nodding. Of course you were supposed to be there. You knew that…

“What’s going on, Y/N? You did great yesterday,” she sighs, making you roll your eyes. Yes, you did well yesterday– that’s because the formation was still fresh in your brain and the choreography wasn’t as complex. Also, yesterday was much more casual, since it was the first practice of the year. It was spent getting to know each other and sharing snacks in the locker room. On top of that, it’s only been 24 hours and your brain adapts slowly. There’s no way you’d remember the formations you learnt yesterday, when the sun is glazing your high, slicked ponytail, making you think you’re going to overheat and fall to the ground any second.

“I just… kind of forgot the formation?” you smile innocently, making the older girl look at you with wide eyes and an ironic smile, the despair clearly written on her face.

“Don’t even try to tell me-”

“But I’ve got it now!” you say, showing her thumbs up, trying hard to calm the cheer captain down. You don’t really know what she’s like– from what you’ve seen, she’s nice, yet a little scary when she gets frustrated– but you can only imagine how she’s going to kick you out if you don’t manage to get your shit together and remember all the choreography you were taught yesterday. It’s just cheerleading, for god’s sake! You always liked gymnastics…

“Okay,” she huffs, shaking her head as she faces the front of the soccer field you’re currently training on, making you do the same as you notice the flood of your school’s soccer players get out of the gym, one of them being your dear friend Jung Sungchan, carrying the ball. “From the top! 5, 6, 7, 8!”

Your body moves almost on auto-pilot. Now, I’m saying almost– you don’t really remember the formation that well and you have to keep glancing to the girls around you to match their movements, but you seem to be in the right places at the right times, so Ryujin doesn’t really notice, which saves your ass, if you’re being totally honest. Curious of the sight in front of you, your eyes scan over the crowd of boys laughing to themselves as they kick the ball around, ready for their soccer practice.

You recognise some of the upperclassmen. Yuta is the team captain, and if your high school was like Mean Girls, he’d for sure be the Aaron Samuels of them all. He passes the ball almost gracefully to his best friend Mark Lee (you only know his name because one of the girls from the cheer is into him. He seems a little goofy, but you guess Jisu doesn’t really care), who passes it to another boy, whose name is either Jaemin or Jeno. You don’t really know which one is which, because they always go everywhere together, and when you asked Sungchan for their names the last time you saw them in the halls, he just told you it was ‘Jaemin and Jeno’, and so did everyone else you’ve ever inquired about the two. Nobody ever really specified which is which.

Making a swift turn with confidence– because this is the only part of the choreography that you actually remember– your eyes are met with Ryunjin that is now opposite of you, wearing a focused smile that only reaches her eyes when you look at her. You suppose it’s a form of encouragement, a silent praise that you didn’t fuck it up yet, and it makes you strangely comfortable. Turning back to the soccer players– because the formation requires so– your eyes continue to watch the small crowd on the other side of the field.

“Chenle, pass to me!” you hear someone yell out, making you giggle as the boy holds up a middle finger to his opponent that was trying to trick him with a childish stunt, passing to his teammate. Stepping from one foot to the other, continuing to half-focus on the task you’ve been doing, you watch the boy that’s now in charge of the ball, your eyes almost falling out of your sockets.

The boy now running around the field with the ball is fairly short compared to the rest of the team, his jet black hair flowing in the wind as he charges through the field. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him before, because you’re fairly certain you’d remember the perfect curve of his nose and the focused pout on his lips if the encounter between you two did happen, the white of his ankles captivating you in a manner you’ve never experienced in your all 15 years of life.

Yells and curses are thrown across the soccer field, the boy not really knowing what to do as he looks around in confusion. He looks like he’s just as good at the game as you would be… except with your eyes closed; so you don’t really know what he’s doing in the team. But hey, you can’t judge. Maybe he just really likes soccer and wants to learn. Everyone starts somewhere. Focused on the soccer practice, another sharp voice pierces through your ears– the owner of it being your cheer captain, Ryujin– making you halt in your movements and hide behind one of the girls in terror.

“Y/N I swear to fucking god if you mess up this formation one last time, I’m going to shave off your eyebrows in your sleep!”

There goes your daydreaming. Strange– you thought you had this part of the choreography down, you were 100% certain you were doing the right steps and that the timing was sharply correct. You must have been distracted…

“I’m sorry-”

“The practice is over for today, I genuinely don’t have the energy to deal with this anymore,” Ryujin huffs out, making the rest of the cheerleading squad take their duffel bags off the grass, scattering back inside of the school building.

“I promise to get it down before the match, Ryunjin,” you peep as you catch up to her, trying hard to regain your position as a reliable cheerleader. You were told your smile was quite captivating, something a good cheerleader should never lack, so you suppose you can’t really let that quality go to waste so soon.

“You better, or else I’m kicking you out,” she glares at you, and you can’t really tell if she’s joking or not.

Squinting at the sophomore, you hum. “Are you serious?”

“100%.”

Nodding, you clear your throat. Taking a glimpse behind your shoulder, looking at the boy that made you so distracted in your routine, you take notice of his lost expression and the aimless posture of his hands by his side. He’s almost a little too far behind the whole team, and while you don’t really know how soccer works, you really think he’s not playing the game right, but you don’t pay more attention to it as you look back at your captain with a warm smile.

“I’ll do better.”

This is your first encounter with the boy named Huang Renjun. You learn his name through your best friend Sungchan, and while you were teased for hours about the intentions of knowing it– because Sungchan is one gossiping fellow who lives for drama– you don’t back down and fulfill your plan of learning something about the boy. After stalking the soccer player on instagram for a bit, you learn that he doesn’t quite live on social media (and good for him, honestly), making you curse as the only pictures of him you find on your feed are the ones his mum posted on his birthday. He’s a baby on those and he didn’t even like the post, not paying attention to it from what you presume was pure embarrassment.

The soccer match is in two weeks, and while you’re not exactly living the plot of Mean Girls, you sit at the cheerleader table for the time being. You suppose getting closer to the rest of the girls can only serve you– you’re a 15 year old with a dream of having the wildest high school years, after all– and it’s also good to hear all the gossip about the soccer team. You finally learn which one is Jeno and which one is Jaemin, and you also learn that Huang Renjun is a freshmen like you–, and while you learn that everyone thinks that he’s insanely pretty (which makes you frown, because you selfishly wanted to be the only one), he’s also insanely quiet.

You tried to bug Sungchan into befriending him. It didn’t work– he already befriended the talkative Zhong Chenle, telling you that Renjun is too quiet to strike up a conversation. You just think he chose Chenle for his big house and the fact that he has his own basketball court he gets invited to four days a week, but you won’t say that aloud for the fear of sounding jealous of the fact that you can never tag along.

The weeks before the match finally pass and you’re at your first high school soccer game. Dressed in a skirt that just barely covers your asscheeks (you complained to Ryujin about it. She told you to deal with it– you’re exceptionally tall for your age), you twirl around with pompoms in your hands, cheering for the team you know by their names now. You quite like the feeling of having the whole school looking at you when you perform your routine in the half-time break, the formation now permanently glued inside of your brain, muscle memory trained hard now as you were watched by the stern eyes of your cheer captain the remaining cheer practices. Squealing and cheering for the team, you get so into the whole process that you feel like the main character of a movie (so glad it’s not Mean Girls), ready to watch the game when the routine is done and you can take a break on one of the bleachers.

Your eyes involuntarily follow Huang Renjun across the field. He does look a little out of place, you must admit. You wouldn’t really call him the sporty type either– his body not as chiseled and firm as his teammates, although you’d say that’s partly because he’s still growing and in puberty– but there’s something about him that makes you magnetically pulled to his presence, not being able to take your eyes off him.

So when the ball is finally in his charge and he runs around with it, looking like a lost puppy when you play fetch with it on its afternoon walk, your eyes light up, you almost even let out a happy squeal when he charges forward, the last few seconds of the match passing by as the crowd yells out a countdown. The whole thing is so intense you think you could pee yourself, if you’re being honest, and as you stand up to get ready to cheer for Huang Renjun’s goal– the one that could make your team win– the excitement dies down when the boy kicks the ball forward with no real intention, the opposing team instantly taking charge and striding towards your school’s goalie.

You may be a little obsessed with Huang Renjun, yes. But even you can admit that he messed up the match pretty badly, earning your team the first loss of the season, making the following matches end just as badly with the bitter essence of a bad start.

You’re just 15 when you first notice Huang Renjun trying to desperately fit in to a cafeteria table, the only thing that reminds you of your favorite teenage movie that you watched with Sungchan in the middle of the night. You’re just 15 when you see the first version of the boy, not knowing that the next four years spent watching him silently will be just as eventful and interesting, keeping you on your toes the whole time.

Sungchan would say you were just 15 when you first got a crush on Huang Renjun.

You’d disagree. Not because it’s not true,

just because you won’t give him the satisfaction of being right.

At 15 years old, Huang Renjun leaves the soccer team after two lost matches (which were, admittedly… both kind of his fault). Cheerleading isn’t as exciting anymore when he’s not there, but at least you get to watch Sungchan… am I right?

You’re already a sophomore when you finally share a class with Huang Renjun. You’d think this fact would help you get closer to him and learn something about the boy, but the opposite is true as your object of interest doesn’t really interact with anyone outside his circle, keeping to himself. Truth be told, you’d do anything to fit into his circle– but with the company he chose for himself in the sophomore year of high school is nothing close to what you represent, the science kids so far away from the cheerleading status you still hold.

While you’re still stuck in your Mean Girls arc, Huang Renjun switched to the Harry Potter universe, it seems. Or maybe it’s just your sudden obsession with the books that’s making you feel this way… Nonetheless, Renjun now reminds you of the Ravenclaw boys in Potions class, except this is reality and you’re only sitting in Chemistry, watching over his every move as he moves through the room and focuses on the experiments.

Sungchan nudges you with his elbow, scowling. “Stop ogling Renjun and fucking do something, I think this is going to blow up any second!”

Hissing at him, afraid his mean comment could be heard by unwanted ears, you grit your teeth at your best friend and roll your eyes. “Shut up.”

“No, I mean it, though, I think this is going to blow up-”

“I’m a cheerleader, Sungchan, I don’t know Chemistry, for fuck’s sake,” you sigh, fully commiting to the social norms you were put in. The soccer player only glares at you more after your comment, deciding to take the boiling mixture and spilling the contents of it into the sink with one swift motion of his hand, hopefully not burning the drain in the process and getting you in trouble. You never know with Chemistry. One wrong step and the whole school is on fire. On one hand, you’d love that, but on the other hand, you’d love to experience your first kiss before dying, so you really, desperately hope nothing goes wrong this time.

“Great, now we gotta start over,” you shake your head in disbelief, already taking another cauldron into your hand and putting exact measurements into the flask.

“As if the last mixture was salvageable,” Sungchan mutters, making you kick him into his shin for being annoying.

“Maybe you can befriend Huang Renjun and he can help us with the experiment,” you suggest innocently, watching your best friend melodramatically scream at your premise. This is not the first time you tried to make your friend to get to know Renjun, but it’s also not the first time he’s declining. You don’t know what’s so hard about being Renjun’s friend, you suppose he has a lot of them– from the looks of the group now standing around his small frame– Sungchan could easily sway the quiet boy with his charm and get him to your side.

“How many times do I have to tell you that I am not befriending Huang Renjun? You can do that yourself, if that’s really all you desire,” he huffs, shaking his head in disbelief.

“But-”

“No buts, for fuck’s sake,” he cuts you off, already knowing the contents of your rambling, “sometimes you gotta do the first step, if you want to cuff a man!”

“I’m old-fashioned, I’ll let you know.”

“That’s just… simply not true,” Sungchan grins, making you sigh.

“I mean, yeah,” you agree, feeling heat rising to your cheeks as you speak the next words, “I’m just shy.”

“Y/N,” Sungchan sighs as he looks you dead into your eyes, seriousness dripping off his tongue, “you’re like… the least shy person I know.”

Offended at his comment, because in this exact moment, you feel nothing but shyness when the topic of your conversation is Huang Renjun– your classmate you’ve never even talked to in the first place, but somehow grown interested in the first moment you’ve seen his face for the first time– you shake your head in disagreement. “You know that’s not true!”

“You made friends with my teammates even faster than I did! Don’t try telling me you’re shy when you were playing Call of Duty with Mark in his dorm room the first week you met him,” he rambles, making you grin at the comment. You knew he was jealous of you being friends with his older teammate– it didn’t matter that the boy was more awkward than anyone you’ve ever encountered (while also simultaneously being the most social human being on the campus, somehow. You’d say he’s so socially awkward and so social that it’s awkward at the same time.). At least you have revenge for not being invited to Zhong Chenle’s basketball court (yes, you’re still salty about that. You were decent at basketball. Well… more decent than Sungchan, at least.).

“That’s not the same, though,” you roll your eyes, making your best friend suggest something that is already known between the two of you, but never truly solidified in words.

“Because you like Renjun?”

“He seems interesting-”

“Because you have a crush on Renjun?”

“I do not!” you scream out, making the rest of the classroom look at you, resulting in you hiding behind your giant friend in shame. You only hope the rest of the conversation wasn’t heard by the whole classroom. You’d pack your things and move away to Nebraska if it was.

“I suppose the two of you are done with the experiment?” the professor inquires, making all blood leave your face as you vigorously shake your head in disapproval, apologetic smiles sent her way as you promise you’re almost done and that you’ll be quiet from now on. Truth be told, you don’t even know if you’re almost done. You don’t know how the experiment is supposed to go. You can only hope the period ends before you have to show the results.

Reading over the manual again, with Sungchan standing behind you and looking onto the white sheet of paper over your shoulder, you try hard to succeed in your assignment.

“I think I’ve got it,” he mumbles under his breath, gathering the things needed and finally getting to work, motioning for you to get closer and help him.

“You’re actually smart for a soccer player, you know,” you grin at him, the annoyed look on his face being the result of your successful teasing. Sometimes it’s fun to poke around with social norms and stereotypes– mostly because they’re kind of true.

“Just watch over the caldron and make sure it doesn’t bubble. If it does, turn the heating down, okay?” he urges you, earning himself a focused nod.

Now, the task at hand is easy. You just watch the caldron– it’s not difficult at all. But as we already established, you’re an individual that gets distracted really easily– especially when Huang Renjun is present in the same room as you, breathing the same air and looking insanely gorgeous even when he’s boredly looking at his own tools, seemingly done with the experiment with his head rested on his plopped-up hand, dissociated and uninterested. The group of boys around him– Shotaro, Jisung, Doyoung and Shohei, the proclaimed class geniuses at Science– look excited and immersed in the conversation, giggling at jokes and playfully smacking each other’s shoulders in fits of laughter when someone says something exceptionally funny. You imagine it’s Science jokes you wouldn’t get. You do fit the stereotype of a cheerleader, in a way– you’re not stupid, but you’re also not that smart in Chemistry, so you couldn’t indulge in their jokes even if you really wanted to.

Renjun looks uninterested and left-out. You feel the sudden urge to take him into your small circle, to ask him about his day and about his interests. He seems so different to the boy he was last year– while he did hang out with the soccer boys a few times after quitting the team, you didn’t really see him around. You suppose that the first impression you make on people is usually how you stay fixated in the minds of the general public, and while he used to be a soccer player for a while (two months, to be exact), he then lost the status, resulting in him being just… simply invisible for the rest of the year.

You were glad to see him with a new group of friends when you arrived in Chemistry class for the first time in your Sophomore year. While you didn’t really know how he ended up with them and what they do for fun after class, Renjun was now a part of the Science kids (this is your Mean Girls arc showing through. He does sit at the Science table in the cafeteria, though, so no one can really blame you for stereotyping.).

In this exact moment, though, he seems to be collectively excluded out of the collective. It’s frustrating– for this is the second time you’ve seen it happen to the boy– but you suppose there’s nothing you can really do or say to make it change.

“Fuck’s sake, Y/N! I told you to look after the caldron!”

“Oh shit!” you yelp out as you see the mixture boiling, the liquid inside turning black with steam, making the whole experiment fail for the second time.

Sighing, the boy only shakes his head at your distracted figure, taking the flask into his hand and once again, dropping the contents of it into the sink. Looking around the classroom, desperately trying to find something to anchor to so you can fix the situation, the bell rings and you’re left with the relief of knowing that the class is over and nobody can tell that you failed the assignment miserably.

“You’re lucky the bell rang, because this failure is completely your fault and I wouldn’t waste any time burning your skin off if we were called to show the results to the class,” Sungchan mutters, gathering his things.

“You’re not scary. I saw you shit your pants when you were eight.”

“Fuck off,” he rolls his eyes, leaving you behind to pack your things and silently ogling Huang Renjun on the other side of the classroom. The small circle of his supposed-to-be friends is now standing with the teacher, excitedly nodding as you hear them talk about a competition in Chemistry that is taking place next week. Interested in anything that includes Huang Renjun, you eavesdrop until you realize the boy was left out of the event– the four names scribbled down onto an application paper by their leader Doyoung left on the teacher’s desk, Renjun’s name nowhere to be seen.

You don’t think he did anything wrong to get left out. Looking at the neatly done experiment, you’re fairly certain he deserves to be on the list of applicants.

Looking at the group, you just think he didn’t fit in with them.

Huang Renjun leaves the classroom alone, his backpack thrown over his shoulder. After the year ends and he no longer takes Chemistry classes, you never see him with the Science kids again.

“I can’t believe you dragged me to the play just because you didn’t want to go alone,” you whisper to your best friend, staring forward at the stage. It’s almost over now, you can tell because you read the book it’s following– you were always a big Oscar Wilde fan– and you can’t help but giggle at the state of Sungchan. The poor boy isn’t used to having friends outside of the soccer player circle, and while he’s sociable, the image of showing up to the play completely alone, just because his friend Guanheng asked him to, is truly terrifying in his eyes.

“I can’t believe you only agreed when I said Renjun’s in the play,” he responds to you with a snarkier comment, making you roll your eyes at him.

“Shh,” you put your finger against your lips, subtly telling him to shut up, “I’m watching the play.”

“Sure…” he mutters, making you smile in satisfaction, for you managed to silence him and keep Huang Renjun out of the conversation.

You’re 17 now. You don’t know much more about Renjun than you did when you were 15, and you no longer share a class with him anymore, so you doubt you’ll ever really get to know him. You rarely see him, since you have no mutual friends or mutual interests, and so your silly crush started to subtly fade into the background. You must admit that you don’t look away when he passes you in halls with the group of drama kids he hangs out with now– you’re a weak, weak woman, after all– but the silent obsession with him is not your main personal trait anymore, and you can tell that both you and Sungchan are more than happy about the fact.

When the play ends and the whole cast scatters onto the stage to bow– you recognise Guanheng, Dejun, Kun, Sicheng and the director, Ten– all smiling brightly beside Renjun in the very corner, who only gives the crowd a shy grin as he bows down with the rest. Truth be told, you never expected him to get into the drama club. He always seemed quiet and reserved, but you suppose this is him experimenting with what he likes, finding the outgoing side in him and getting into more social circles.

After the lights turn back on and the school theater empties itself out, you find yourself waiting outside with Sungchan. The boy scratches the back of his neck in nerves, stressed from the sudden interaction with the drama kids. Your best friend is quite popular within the school, so you’re not really surprised that he and the charming Guanheng hit it off right away after meeting in Physics class. The sudden blush on his cheeks whenever you mention his new friend makes you strangely suspicious, though, but you won’t get deeper into it.

“Sungchan! Y/N!” you hear cheers from behind you, making you turn around and greet the cast of the play you just watched. Guanheng offers you a welcoming hug that you gladly accept, the rest of the friend group just as friendly to you as their connecting link is. Somewhere in the back of the group, you see Sicheng– the charming senior– trailing behind with Renjun. Too shy to look at him– because you still have the hint of the silly freshman on the inside– you avert your gaze off him and focus on the rest.

“We’re actually going to McDonald’s to celebrate the premiere, are you going with us?” Kun asks, a warm smile playing with his features.

“I- I mean-” you see Sungchan stuttering, shaking your head in disbelief at the hesitance he shows when he gets too much attention. Jumping in to save the boy, you quickly agree.

“We’re down!” you nod, seeing the man gratefully smile at you as you follow the drama club through the center of the town, towards the closest McDonald’s.

Throughout the whole journey, you’re painfully aware of Huang Renjun’s presence. You two haven’t even said hi to each other, and while you didn’t expect for that to happen, you still feel a little awkward to be invading his space. He’s in the back of the group with Sicheng, the two of them perhaps the closest of the whole club, and you wonder if it’s your fault for making him so distant himself from his friends right now. Did you invade his circle? Did you make him feel uncomfortable? You’ll leave, if that’s what he wants…

Arriving at the McDonald’s, you all order yourself your fast food of choice, the conversation flowing surprisingly easily after Sungchan gets accommodated to the new section of friends around him. Sliding into a big red booth in the corner of the room, you’re pressed between your best friend and Dejun, who can’t stop talking about the new Avatar movie. You almost agree to go see it with him in the cinema, from how desperate and excited he sounds, but then you’re reminded by the fact that you haven’t even seen the first part and you actually kind of hate sci-fi…

The whole time, your eyes don’t leave Renjun. Old habits die hard, you suppose, but you’re happy to see him genuinely laugh. You don’t think you’ve ever seen that on him before, and the sight of his eyes crinkled up into moon crescents and glittery stars in his dark orbsmakes your heart swell with fondness for the man. Still, though, you can’t help but notice the exclusion from the group– maybe he just doesn’t do well with crowds– as he sits in the corner of the booth with Dong Sicheng, while the rest are indulged in a shared conversation.

You don’t dare to try to include him in your conversation. Frankly, you think he isn’t interested, and it’s also not your place to organize a setting you were just tagging along to, only being invited because of Sungchan.

In the back of your mind, you think this is it. You think that Renjun’s battle of fitting in is finally over and that he found his place. He looked so familiar with the boys, so eager in the conversation with Sicheng– you’re happy he finally found his place in the world. It’s an unexpected one, to say the least, but you’re just satisfied with watching him be happy from afar.

You pay your goodbyes to the rest of the group after your meals are finished and the clock strikes 10. You’ve never been this close to Renjun before, and you don’t think you’ll ever grow closer. It’s fine with you, though. You’re always watching him– even when nobody else is, interested in knowing about his well being and the trajectory of his life. It’s strange, but it’s natural for you.

When you’re 17, you think Renjun finally found his place in the world– you think he’s finally satisfied with his table at the cafeteria, with the social status he has, with the group of friends around him; although still a little distant with most of them except for one. When you’re 17, you didn’t know you couldn’t be more wrong.

When junior year ends, Dong Sicheng graduates.

Renjun never hangs out with the drama club again.

When you finally turn 18– the birthday party with baby pink party hats and champagne all over the carpet of your teenage room– it seems like everything takes a sharp C turn. You’re a senior now, and while you got admitted to your dream university after many hours of stress and days spent filling out the applications with your best friend Sungchan late in the library, you don’t think you’re ready to leave your home yet.

It’s kind of weird that you realize the fact at a goodbye party thrown by your classmate Donghyuck. You’ve never really talked to the man before– you just shared multiple classes with him and he offered you weed outside of the gates to the building once– but there’s something about the aroma of the liquor he serves in his kitchen that makes you reminiscence about all the years you’ve spent in the cheer team or sitting at your little desk in the classroom, listening to only some of the lectures, because you didn’t really mind the rest. You also get back in your memory to the spacious cafeteria– the soccer team and the cheer team have joined their tables together after some months, and while it wasn’t like the Mean Girls, you still felt lucky to have such a big supporting system.

Your cheer captain– Ryujin– graduated one year before you, the role of the most responsible one falling onto your classmate Jiwoo not long after, since they were always friends and you all wanted to lead the team in the fierceful manner Ryujin always has. You swear you saw the ex-captain somewhere in the house a few minutes ago, though, carrying a bottle of vodka under her shoulder as she twirled her slim body around one of the guys that graduated two years ago, the one you always saw Donghyuck hanging around with in the backs of the school halls, wearing leather jackets and snickering with smug grins.

Twirling the liquid in the red solo cup around, standing alone in the corner of the living room (Sungchan left you stranded a few minutes ago, when he spotted Chenle and Guanheng in the crowd), your brain takes you back to all the memories you’ve made in the last 4 years.

You remember celebrating one of the only wins your school’s soccer team got in your freshman year with Sungchan, the tall boy carrying you on his back as he ran around the field in the lights of the reflectors. You remember blowing up the Chemistry lab with him once or twice, and you also remember the whole classroom giggling at you when you had to clean it up, accompanied by the horrified screams of your professor. The memory of the winter formal in your junior year is the most vivid in your brain– you went with your cheer friends, while Sungchan finally scored himself his first date. Her name was Lily and while you found the girl to be quite nice, the memory in your brain is so bright mainly because your dear best friend was so drunk out of nervosity of being with a girl that he puked in the school yard, leaving you to laugh your ass off until tears were streaming down your face.

Your whole four years were consistent. With the same group of people, in the same school halls and bedrooms of your friends when you had sleepovers as a cheer team building. You always had fun when new freshmen joined the team, making sure they know which Sophomore and Junior boys to be wary of, and while you’re excited for university, you don’t think you’ll get to replicate this carefree and silly presence of high school ever again.

“You okay?” you hear a voice call for you, making you snap your head up and see one of your classmates, Seunghan, staring at you with glittery eyes and a warm smile. You always perceived the boy to be quite the shy individual, but you think alcohol always helps everyone to get out of their shell.

“Yeah,” you nod, quick to make his worries fade away, “just lost in thought.”

“I get that. It’s surreal that we’re graduating, isn’t it?” he grins, shaking his head in disbelief. You didn’t expect anyone to get your feelings, but here you are– you guess you’re never as alone in your views as you think you are.

“It’s crazy…” you mumble, finishing up the cup and looking around, catching the boy staring at you constantly. Not really seeing your friend Sungchan anywhere, you decide the second best thing to do to pass time is to catch up with the boy right next to you, and so you lean closer to him and ask him if he wants to get out for some fresh air.

After seeing him nodding eagerly at your suggestion, you find yourself trailing out of Donghyuck’s house, straight to the backyard, while passing some of his friends on your way– their irises were twice as wide as a normal person’s would be and you swear you sensed the sweet, disgusting smell of weed resonating through the walls, so you were glad to get out before the essence got so deep inside of your nose and make you want to puke.

As a cheerleader, you were a regular at those parties. You’ve seen enough of Yangyang, Donghyuck, Eunsok… and Renjun getting so high and mixing the drugs with alcohol that it left them out of it for hours, and you don’t really need that for yourself right now.

“Finally,” you gasp when you reach the backyard, leaning on the wall of the house. Seunghan follows you with a cup in his hand that you’re not sure when and where he’s gotten on your way out, sipping on the alcohol as his eyes never leave your frame.

“What are your plans after graduation?” he asks, genuinely curious.

“University,” you say, letting your eyes travel through the backyard, finding multiple people sharing cigarettes and pipes in the bushes, giggling to themselves. “You?”

“Same,” he nods, “I got into the town’s uni, so I’m just gonna stay here, though.”

Humming, you take a short glimpse at him. Truth be told, you don’t know much about Hong Seunghan. All you know about him is that he’s super nice and he always greeted you when you passed each other in the halls, despite not having many shared classes or social circles. Your friend Yeri once told you that he’s got a crush on you when you got an anonymous Valentine’s day card in your locker during junior year, but you dismissed the thought quickly as you realized you’ve never really had a coherent conversation with him. Looking into his starstruck eyes right now, though, you can’t say that you wouldn’t believe it now…

“I’m moving across the state, actually,” you grin, desperate to hide your despair behind a smile. Sungchan got into a university only an hour away from yours, which is the only thing that’s keeping you going right now– while you will be so far away from home, at least you won’t be completely lonely. If you ever feel like it’s too much, you can just catch a train and meet your childhood best friend in the next town. It’s easy. Or at least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

“Why so far away?”

“I don’t know,” you mumble, taking your eyes off him again, looking through the crowd in the yard and finding a familiar figure, sitting lonely at the edge of the empty swimming pool, his legs dangling inside as he leans back, supporting his weight with his arms and looks towards the sky, “they had the best History courses, I guess…”

The conversation you’re having with Seunghan is only a background task now, a side quest in your game, as you focus on what you’ve been doing in the back of your head for the last 4 years. You monotonously reply to his questions and hum at all the right places in the dialogue to seem interested, but your eyes are focused solely on the man sitting at the swimming pool, looking more lonely than ever before. You’d make yourself feel silly for paying more attention to a man you’ve never spoken to than to the blushy classmate standing to your left right now, quietly obsessing your whole teenage years with a stranger, but for all you know, this could be the last time you’re seeing him in your life, so you let your inner little crushing-on-Huang-Renjun self have it, at least one last time.

When you turn 18, so does Huang Renjun. He finds enjoyment in all the possibilities now open to him with the new status of an adult, his Fridays spent drinking away with his new group of friends. He wears leather jackets and ripped jeans, and while you find it quite attractive, you don’t think it’s what suits him the most. Hell, even the soccer jersey looked more fit on him– and he played for the team for a total of two matches. His hair is bleached blonde and you once saw him with red, puffy eyes and a little fucked-out smile accompanied by his sketchy friends in the park, so you can only imagine what he’s been doing his whole senior year. You’re surprised he even managed to graduate.

When you turn 18, it’s when you worry most about him. He doesn’t seem himself, and quite frankly, he never has, but this is the most unpredictable and unexplainable version of himself that he managed to craft.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him genuinely laugh. And yes, you don’t know the boy, but still, you kind of miss the earlier versions of him, because at least those weren’t as self-destructive and damaging to his health.

You wonder why he’s not inside with his friends. You wonder why he’s so alone in the backyard, why he’s sitting at the empty swimming pool with a bottle of liquor next to him, why he’s not laughing at stupid jokes and dancing to bad EDM music in Lee Donghyuck’s house like the rest of his circle is. You wonder what made him hang out with the crowd for the last year, what made him let his grades slip and why he never seemed to stay with one friend group for long.

You guess it’s hard to be his friend.

Or maybe, he just finds it hard to be other people’s friend.

Changing himself up just to fit with the others, carefully crafting and molding his personality to have at least someone match his current energy– you wonder if it wouldn’t just be easier for him to be himself and let someone discover the true him for once. Because this surely isn’t him. And the soccer player, running aimlessly around the field wasn’t him. The kid that was good at science was never a good fit for the nerdy crowd either, because it wasn’t him. The drama kid that was decent at acting, but never really talked with anyone from the club other than Dong Sicheng (because even after all this time, you think that was his only real friend), wasn’t the real Huang Renjun either. And now, after the four years of admiring the mystery he is and examining him each passing day, you can for sure say that the version of himself that smokes and drinks in dark alleyways isn’t the real him at all.

After reminiscing on your four years of high school with a smile on your face, you wonder if Huang Renjun could do the same. If he smiles about the many twists and turns, or if he thinks of his high school years as a waste of his youth, a time he can only be reminded of with a bittersweet feeling, never fitting in despite trying so hard over and over again.

The boy at the swimming pool chews on the inside of his cheek, scoffing as he points his eyes towards the ground. There’s an urge inside of you to walk over to him and be a shoulder for him to cry on, be someone to finally offer him some comfort, to let him talk while you listen.

But you don’t do any of that.

You keep standing there, watching him, as Hong Seunghan talks your ears off about everything and nothing, making your confused heart simmer with despair at the broken look on Renjun’s face when he looks around for the last time before he takes the bottle standing next to him into his hand and smashes it into the pool with full force, the piercing sound of the glass shattering making your ears hurt as you jump up in surprise.

The boy stands up from his place as he storms off, your eyes meeting only for a mere second before he’s out.

“Are you okay?” Seunghan asks again, for the second time this evening already, while you look at him with a tight smile and nod your head at the question.

“Yeah. Just… got distracted.”

When you’re 18, you believe this is the last time you’ll ever see him. When you’re 18, all you do is wish him well.

Walking out of your trashy university accommodation, locking the door behind you– although you think it does nothing for the safety of your living space, considering the door is paper thin and anyone determined enough could get inside in two minutes, if they wanted to– you put the keys into your coat pocket and jog down the stairs, because you fear the old elevator ever since you heard your neighbor getting stuck inside of it one day when the power went out. Checking the time on your phone screen, you walk your way to university.

You always wanted to live somewhere far away. It’s not really about cutting people off or about starting new– Sungchan visits you every other week when he’s bored, after all– you just think you like the comfort the big city brings you. The architecture of the town is beautiful and your university’s History course is the best one in the country. You almost feel a little proud of getting in, moving out of the small hell hole your hometown was, and being competent enough to live on your own at 19, cooking yourself bad pasta for dinner every evening and posting instagram stories of the sunset with the song stickers from your playlist every other week. It’s a little surreal to live the life your younger self always dreamt of, for it doesn’t feel as strange and so brand new like you expected it to. You can’t say you don’t enjoy it, though.

Walking inside of the university building, still not used to the white modern walls and tall glass windows in the lounge area, you check the time and realize you still have at least 25 minutes until your lecture starts. Coming from a small town, you never really learned how to time your departure from home. You always arrive either very late or very early– it’s hard to calculate how long the walk is, when everything is within a 10 minute reach back home.

Deciding to spend some time in the lounge area before the class starts, because you don’t really feel like spending time in the lonely classroom and you also suspect someone’s having a class in there still, you walk towards the crowded place, adjusting the bag strap that’s sneakily slipping off your shoulder.

The view in front of you catches you off guard, the amount of students doing things to your little, anxious self (in moments like these, you wish you had Sungchan with you here. Despite being quite social in high school, it’s hard to make friends when he’s not around to be your isle of comfort; but you guess it’s time for you to be a big person and find friends on your own now), and as your eyes scan the place for an empty space to sit, your mouth drops agape in shock and surprise.

There is a boy with mousy blonde hair sitting at one of the bean bags, down in the university halls. He's surrounded by people, all typing away on their laptops, occasionally glancing up to their friends and talking in hushed smiles and cheery giggles. The boy is alone– scrolling away on his phone, earphones in his ears as the slight movement of his leg matches the beat– though, he doesn't seem lonely.

There are plenty of people around him, all with their kindred spirits, yet, the boy makes no effort in trying to fit into a circle; he doesn't try to match anyone's energy or to desperately make someone like him. In a way, the sight makes you sigh with relief.

Huang Renjun has finally stopped trying, and while this sentence usually doesn't have a nice ring to it, this time, you don't think there's anything more positive about the fact that he simply just has no energy to change himself to fit the vision of himself that is kept by others.

Taking a few deep breaths in and out, you contemplate on your next step. Is this really how you get to know your high school crush, after so many years of thinking of him? Is university really the time for your first real meeting? It makes you feel kind of silly, the tingling sensation in your fingertips making it hard for you to stay grounded as you shake your head to clear your thoughts, deciding.

Wiping your hands onto the fabric of your jeans, taking another deep breath in and out, you walk up to the boy with a hesitant smile and drop your body to the bean bag next to him, accidentally bumping into his outstretched legs. The action makes your cheeks heaten as your whole body feels hot with uncertainty, but you don't back away as he looks up to you with an uninterested look, merely just wanting to know what bumped into him and made him lose his focus and switch his attention to the world around him instead of his phone.

Clearing your throat, you force yourself to quirk up the corners of your lips into the most welcoming smile, greeting the boy you know so well, but also don't know at all.

“Hi,” you utter, seeing the boy glance at you with pure interest now, eyebrows furrowed as the gears in his brain work by themselves, trying to sort your face. When his thoughts are met with recognition, his irises widen as he works out a subtle smile, the one that reaches his eyes and makes them light up with a glittery sparkle, soft voice echoing to your ears.

“Y/N, right?”

“Yeah,” you nod, putting on an awkward smile, “from high school.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he nods, staring at you, as if to wait if you have anything else you want to say.

The encounter must feel strange to him. You've never really talked, and when you did, it was only when it was necessary. You were just a side character in his life– the one you pass in a game in a very unimportant side quest and never meet again, forgetting about it in an instant– however, to you, Huang Renjun, although he was never the center of your universe, was always there, somewhere in the back of your mind, as you looked after his every move and paid attention to every shift in his existence. To you, he was like the musician you fall in love with when you're a kid, and even though you don't listen to them anymore, you still have their account followed on instagram, keeping track of their every move, making sure they're safe and still loved by many.

Staring at you still, your throat gets dry as you have no words to say. Somehow, you always had so many things on your mind that you wanted to share with Huang Renjun, in each and every passage of his life. But now that you finally had the courage to walk up to him and talk, the words were stolen from the tip or your tongue and it's useless to try to search for them in your brain.

Maybe it's the boy recognising your hesitance, maybe it's his brain reminding him of all the times he's walked up to a new group and tried so hard to fit in with them, maybe he knows the lost look in your eyes all too well from how many times he's seen it in himself when he tried to make new friends; maybe it's the fact that he knows how stressful it is to walk up to someone and try to be their friend– nonetheless, for a reason to you unknown, he does something no one's ever done for him when he was in the position you are in right now, because, truth be told, this is the first time he's been in the position of being walked up to and interrogated with a premise of new friendship. And it's all thanks to you– so he takes the lead and warmly smiles at you, striking up a conversation.

“What's up? I didn't expect to see you here,” he says, taking his earphones out and putting them away to his pocket, turning slightly towards your figure and paying full attention to you.

Playing with your fingers in your lap, you turn your gaze away from him and master up a response. “I didn't expect to see you here either, actually,” you say.

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs, “I guess I just wanted to start over somewhere far away. It felt… a little claustrophobic back home.”

The two of you share a look full of understatement, because in his eyes, as his classmate from high school, you must have noticed at least some of the glimpses of his numerous friend groups over the time. And while none of them really worked out for him, since none of them ever really felt as if they were right for him, now, in the university halls, although a little alone and a little too ordinary, he seems like himself for the first time.

“I get that,” you nod, not wanting to dwell on the topic for too long in fear of hitting a painful spot in him or exposing that you’ve been watching him the whole time, “what do you study?”

“Art,” he says with an excited smile, the one that makes his eyes crinkle up a little and his expression is full of undenied joy and excitement, the one you’ve seen on him for the last time in junior year, talking away with Sicheng in a red McDonald’s booth– hinting that after so many years of changing himself up and trying to fit in with the rest, he's doing what he really wants and desires, with no expectations and harsh looks of others.

“That's so amazing,” you hum in amazement, offering him a genuine smile.

“It's very exciting,” he nods, glad he no longer feels like he’s been made from a broken mold, glad he no longer feels aimless and unarmed with everything he encounters, just like he did in high school in the sports teams and drama clubs, hating each passing second he’s spent doing something he despised, wasting away his life. “What about you?”

“Oh, I study History,” you reply, scratching the back of your neck, “doesn't sound as exciting as Art, to be honest, but I've wanted to study it for the longest time, so…”

“No, that's great,” he assures you, “although you don’t seem like a History kind of person,” he says, although he doesn’t know you that well– he can’t quite put a finger on when you two have met, and if you’ve ever even talked. Looking at you right now, though, he must have registered you, at least, because you seem too familiar in the foreign place and he finds himself silently holding on to the feeling of recognising at least something in the wide unknown.

Squinting, you curse the cheerleader stereotype for the first time in your life. “Is that supposed to be a diss?” you grin.

“God, no,” he shakes his head in disapproval, quickly leading you out of the misjudgement. “I just didn’t expect you to study History. I don’t know you that well, but you’re like, the furthest away from my image of a History major… but I guess my expectations can be wrong,” he defends himself, palms raised in defeat.

Humming, you still squint at him in uncertainty. “Well, I guess I get that. You seem like an Art major, though, to be honest.”

“Do I?” he asks, a tone completely different to yours– he looks grateful for the comment, his eyes shining with appreciation and maybe just a hint of pride.

To be honest, it's not really about the way he dresses that makes him seem like he’d study Art– his black high-top converse, beige pants and an oversized brown flannel could be worn by anyone– but his aura, the energy he gives off at first glance, is something that gives it away. This is the first time someone's ever affirmed Huang Renjun's identity, the real one, on top of that– the one he spent his whole life carefully crafting and creating, picking away the bad parts as he tried and failed to fit all the other categories he didn't like– and it feels truly euphoric to him, like he fulfilled his life-long goal and finally found his purpose. "Well, thank you," he says, and you can tell he means it.

You want to tell him how glad you are that he let go of trying to please everyone. You want to tell him how it's great that he finally found himself, how amazing it is that he finally let go of the desire to be liked for something he wasn't, just to be popular or have someone by his side. You want to tell him how you appreciated his existence all those years, how you watched over his every good and bad step, how proud you are of him for the journey he's taken and how amazing it is that he finally reached the final destination.

That would be weird, though– he doesn't even know that you’ve selfishly watched him all those years, tumbling and turning in the background of the mess his life had always been. So, instead, you mumble out a sweet: “You're welcome.”

By the way he looks at you, you almost think he understands your intentions. You almost believe he can read your mind and find the pictures of himself in your memories, each and every single one carefully preserved with his essence, although it was different each time and never really stayed the same.

But he can't. He can’t read your mind and he can’t tell that you know all about him, so instead, he thinks this is the universe rewarding him for being so patient, rewarding him for always trying, and that’s why he feels that he can’t let this opportunity get away from him.

“Do you want to hang out later? I have a class in 10 minutes, but I'd love to walk around and explore it here a little in the afternoon, if you're down,” he suggests, taking you off guard.

The new version of Huang Renjun that's in front of you is confident– something he always lacked, for it was never really him that he was showing to the world– and the new Huang Renjun is charming and magnetizing. You can't say you never felt like this about him before, because of course you did– you wouldn't have known so much about him and his various phases of life if you weren't interested in the boy, but the way you feel about him now feels more real– maybe because it's finally the authentic version of himself that he always was so afraid of showing to others. Electrified by his eyes, you bring yourself to nod.

“Of course I'm down,” you agree, smiling.

“Great,” he laughs airly, the sound making your smile widen even more, “I'll get your number, then?”

“Oh, sure,” you say, taking his phone out of his outstretched hand, typing the number into his contacts list. Walking up to him all those minutes ago, this wasn’t how you expected the encounter to go. You expected to say hi to him, to maybe hear him tell his major to you before he turns his back to you and walks away, never talking to you again. Instead, you get an invite, a premise of something new, a meeting that excites you and makes you feel all giddy inside, just like the first time you’ve laid your eyes on the boy in high school and decided to secretly hold your heart out to him, if he ever wanted to take it. It makes you feel like you should’ve done this long ago, like you should’ve walked up to him during high school, when you noticed him struggling, but perhaps, this is how it was always supposed to go, how you two were supposed to end up in each other’s lives and how you were always made to finally know Huang Renjun for real.

“Good,” he nods, locking eyes with you, “I have to go now, because the class is on the fifth floor and the elevator is broken, and I also don't really know my way around the building yet, but I'll definitely text you later,” he giggles.

Laughing, you shake your head in disbelief. “Of course. Good luck on not getting lost,” you say as you wave at him, his figure already standing up tall in front of you, his eyes glazing over your features for one last time.

“Thanks, I'll need it,” he tells you, “I'll see you later, then.”

“Later!” you nod, the smile never leaving your lips as you watch him leave and take a shy look at you over his shoulder for one last time before he takes the stairs up, eyes quickly drifting away when your gazes meet.

If anyone was watching you for the last few minutes, they'd think you were old friends. They'd think you were just catching up, accidentally bumping into each other and talking about the struggles of university life, bitching about the accommodation and how the professors seem uninterested in the topic of their courses. The reality is different, though, and although you and Renjun were just acquaintances meeting in a big town, miles away from the home, you can already sense that you and him were meant to have a storyline in each other's lives eventually.

This was Renjun's first time to be walked up to with a welcoming smile. It was also your first time to reach out and offer your friendship to someone. You changed your roles, in a way.

And while Renjun continues to find himself more and more each day, the true and real identity deep inside of him, he finally has someone by his side assuring him that it's enough and that he never has to change a thing about himself to be liked. No more masks and no more acting.

For the first time in his life, Huang Renjun knows who he is, even when nobody’s watching.

#nct #nct dream #renjun #nct fluff #nct angst #nct scenario #nct x reader #renjun fluff #renjun fic #renjun angst #renjun x reader #renjun scenario #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct dream imagine #nct dream scenario #nct dream x reader

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bestiarium · 19 days

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Taqqiq, the moon spirit [Inuit mythology]

Ever-present in the night sky, the moon plays a central role in countless folktales and myths from around the world. In native Inuit religion, the moon is inhabited by an Inua (supernatural spirit) named Taqqiq, which literally means ‘moon’. This enigmatic but benevolent creature watches over humanity and is responsible for guiding the souls of the dead to the afterlife. He once was a mortal man, and his transformation into the moon spirit is the subject of several different stories. Details differ, but a common version has it that he lusted after his own sister, Siqiniq. According to one tale, he made his advances at night, when it was too dark for her to recognize him. But Siqiniq was clever and smeared her body with black soot. The next morning, she saw Taqqiq’s face was blackened with soot and realized that it had been him. He chased her and she fled into the heavens and turned into the sun spirit.

Taqqiq, still chasing after her, followed his sister into the sky and eventually became the moon spirit, ironically reflecting his sister’s fate. He deeply regrets his actions and tries to make up for them. Perhaps because of this, he is said to sometimes descend to the Earth when women are abused and then saves them. Sometimes, he takes them back with him to the moon, where they live happily as Taqqiq takes care of them.

His outfit is made with gorgeous white fur, and Taqqiq himself is said to be particularly handsome. In some stories, he is said to travel with a troupe of dogs. It is unclear to me where these dogs came from, but they are particularly powerful and large.

The moon spirit is also associated with the hunt: the Polar Inuit believe Taqqiq brought wild animals to the world of the living so that humans could hunt and eat (hunters would sometimes offer prayers to thank him), and in the belief of the Inuit of Baffin Island, these animals are specifically mentioned to be caribou and seals. Iglulik Inuit believe that Taqqiq would bestow good fortune on seal hunters, whereas the people from eastern Greenland believe him to bless whale hunters. Taqqiq is often depicted with his signature whip, which he uses to hit young boys, as it is his role as a spirit to harden them into strong hunters. While this is a harsh (and presumably very traumatic) way to teach a kid a lesson, Taqqiq is regarded as a protector of young boys and defender of the weak.

Source: Taylor, J. G., 1997, Deconstructing deities: Tuurngatsuak and Tuurngaatsuk in Labrador Inuit Religion, Études Inuit Studies, 21 (1/2), pp. 141-158. Christopher, N., 2013, The Hidden: a compendium of arctic giants, dwarves, gnomes, trolls, faeries, and other strange beings from Inuit oral history, 191 pp, p. 178-181. D’Anglure, B. S. and Philibert, J., 1993, The Shaman’s Share, or Inuit Sexual Communism in the Canadian Central Arctic, Anthropologica, Canadian Anthropology Society, 35 (1), pp. 59-103. (image source: Christopher Stevens, painted for Pivut Magazine, Copyright Inhabit Media)

#Inuit mythology #spirits #mythical creatures #mythology #world mythology #myths

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bumpkinspice0 · 4 months

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Recovery Time: Chapter 6

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

No use of y/n

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 4.2k

Summary: You throw Joel a Birthday party... and end the night with a dance

Warnings: Angst soothed away by fluff, verbal fight, Past trauma, Joel has big feelings and some dirty thoughts, mutual pining

Series Masterlist

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AO3

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Chapter 6: Happy Birthday Joel Miller

It’d been 3 days since he let his birthday date slip and you’d been plotting ever since.

You stand nervously in the kitchen just waiting for him to come back home— and you feel like a fucking idiot. The sun had set. He went out to check the traps 45 minutes ago. You’d turned on the generator less than 30 minutes ago and pulled his birthday cake, a bastardized version of apple crisp, out of the oven 20 minutes ago. Now you’re just… standing there. Staring at the door. Like a fucking idiot.

You’re nervous for absolutely no reason other than this was a surprise. You’d been nervous just thinking about it all day. Your nerves were apparently so obvious that he asked if you were alright a handful of times. You weren’t too good a lying but you managed to get him off your sent. You want it to be perfect, but you don’t even know what that means. This wasn’t really a traditional party. Hell, this wasn’t even a party. It was a night to take a load off. To relax. To forget about… everything. An illusion really. A chance to pretend that everything was okay.

This was Joel’s night, his first since he got here. Whatever he wanted. A ‘thank you for tumbling into my life, I think we’re friends now’ party.

But maybe this was stupid after all. Childish and dumb. You should quit while you're ahead. Turn off the generator and say you just made some apple crisp for shits and giggles. You should—

Your heart nearly leaps through your throat when the door opens. Gus rushes in first, slowly followed by Joel. He looks… confused. Reasonable reaction.

“What’s… what’s this?” He asks slowly, glancing around at the random strung Christmas lights crisscrossing the ceiling. He’d surely seen the ones strung across the yard too, “You turned on the generator?”

“I did.” You answer with a small smile.

He slowly paces around the living room, blanketed in golden rainbow light.

“For?”

“Your belated birthday,” You raise your hands and give some weak spirit fingers, “Surprise.”

He pauses, facing away from you. You see his shoulders tense, the rest of him almost frozen in place. The telltale sign he was uncomfortable. Oh no. You immediately feel like you need to explain yourself. The words come pouring out of you at lightspeed before you give him a chance to say anything.

“I-I know a lot of people don’t feel like there isn’t anything to celebrate anymore, I did too, but you deserve it. Everyone deserves something. I know it’s not much but I made… Well, it’s not a cake but it’s like apple crisp and you can have the stereo playing as long as you want. The TV too. We don’t have the best movie selection but you can pick whatever you want tonight. I even brought up a bottle of wine. I know it’s not—”

“Stop,” His gravel voice cuts through your stammering in an instant. “Just… stop it.”

Suddenly the air feels heavy. You’d done something. You’ve offended him somehow.

“I– I’m sorry. Did I—”

“I told you,” He turns around, an anger in his eyes you hadn't seen before. Or… maybe it was pain? You instantly feel small. “I fucking told you to forget it.”

You’ve overstepped. Massively overstepped. You fucked up. Oh god, you fucked up.

“I just wanted to—I know you—”

“You don’t know anything.” He spits, taking a step closer. You reflexively take a step back. You know he’d never hurt you, but fuck he was terrifying, “You don’t know a goddamn thing about me. Stop actin’ like you do.”

His voice booms, threatening to shake the log cabin walls. Even Gus cowers behind you. He’s scary. He’s absolutely terrifying. The silence that lingers is somehow even louder than his outrage. You don’t want to say anything else. You don’t think you could if you tried.

Even if you could speak, it wouldn’t matter anyway. He turns to leave almost immediately, slamming the door behind him.

You fucked up.

________________

Joel stumbles in the dark out past the property, the glow of lights fading in the distance.

He wants to scream. He wants to find something and kill it. He wants to cut a hole in his head so all the memories can come pouring out and he’ll never have to feel them again. He wants to be numb. He wants to be free of this, even though he knows he never could be.

Her face is still crystal clear in his mind, just like it was every day. That sweet smile. Big curly hair. Those bright eyes you could never say no to– Sarah. His beautiful, perfect daughter. The only person he’s certain he’d ever truly loved. The one who deserved to live. He wants to purge every memory of her but never let them go simultaneously. How could you just forget the best thing that ever happened to you? He tried to. For years he tried.

No parent should ever have to bury their child. The pain never stopped. The bottomless pit he could never dig himself out of. It’s like it happened yesterday. And tonight you brought it all boiling to the surface. Things he fought so hard for years to keep buried ten feet deep.

Fuck you. Fuck you for doing this to him.

A frustrated roar rips from his throat as his fist makes contact with the closest tree. The pain is instant and only serves as a distraction for a few fleeting seconds. Still, it’s more welcome than the boiling cauldron of other emotions brewing.

Anger. Betrayal. Sadness.

Guilt seems to blanket over all of them now that the initial rage is fading. The look on your face while he screamed at you is something that’ll be tattooed on his mind forever. You didn’t deserve this, him and all the fucked up baggage he came with. You’d been nothing but kind since you dragged him here and tonight he spat in your face.

You were like her in a way— Like Sarah. Stubborn and too damn smart for your own good. A compassionate soul that wanted to share it with others. Someone who always had a positive outlook on life. What did you blurt in the middle of your stammering?

Everyone deserves something.

If only you knew how wrong that was when it came to him. Joel deserved the early grave he dug for himself, but you came along and pulled him out of it— and this is how he repays you?

You didn’t know. There’s no way you could have— and yet that still doesn’t seem to ebb away any of the anger still simmering just under the surface. ‘Is that all I am anymore?’ Joel thinks. ‘An angry old man?’ He didn’t want it, all this hate. He wanted to be better for you.

You don’t know a goddamn thing about me. That’s what he spat at you— but whose fault was that? You tried. You tried so hard for him to let you in, and he always shut the door in your face.

You saw him like a bird with a broken wing, fallen from its nest. Something innocent that needed help that only your skillful hands could deliver. If only you knew what he really was.

He wanted to protect you from himself in a way. If you knew everything he’d done, everything that made his brother run from him, you'd never look at him like you do. He’s caught your passing glances a few times, those beautiful eyes peering around the corner— studying him like a bug. But if you knew him, really knew him… You’d probably never want to see him again. Just like Tommy.

Maybe he’s really just protecting himself in the end. That’s what he’s good at.

It felt good to be desired. Not for his skills or connections, but just as a man. That faint swell of masculine pride and desire pumps in his chest, he’d almost forgotten what it felt like. You did that to him.

You wanted him.

He wanted you back. Badly.

You both spend your entire days together, yet when he goes to bed at night you’re still all he can see when he closes his eyes. He’s not sure when it happened. Daydreams of you he’s ashamed of. Would you be like how he imagines? What would you taste like? How would his name sound lustfully drooled out of your mouth?

He’s found relief by his own hand one too many times just thinking about it, but he somehow just knows his imagination will never compare.

And he’ll never find out.

He can’t. He can’t stay here. Someone like him was a cancer in your home. He knew that. He knew it.

And even so, the prospect of leaving you here alone was getting harder and harder to imagine.

A sharp ruff from behind pulls him from his thoughts. He turns to see Gus standing, all four paws planted and squared for a fight. Joel worries for a moment he’ll have to fight this damn dog off but he doesn’t make a move. If Gus wanted a fight he would have pounced on him when his back was turned. No, the dog wanted his attention.

Gus sits, huffing an annoyed grunt as he does so. Somehow the message in the animal's movements rings clear.

Our girl’s upset because of you. Get back there. Get back there and fix this.

Joel groans, sliding down to the ground against the tree he just assaulted. “I really fucked up, didn’t I?” he asks the dog, sighing into his hands. The dog huffs again and cocks his head. ‘Intuitive little thing,’ Joel thinks.

Part of him just wants to stay here. Sleep out in the freezing cold and come back in the morning and pretend nothing ever happened. An unlikely scenario since he knows for a fact you’d come hunt him down eventually and scold him for staying out in the cold so long. It begs the question though, could you both just ignore this? Forget about it and move on. Probably, but he doesn’t want to.

You deserve an apology. You deserved something from him, even if he couldn’t tell you why. He can’t tell you about Sarah. Fuck, he can’t tell anyone about Sarah. He doesn’t owe you an explanation but maybe he could fix the night. Give something back, just say thank you, anything.

Just as long as you wouldn’t completely hate him, he’d be happy.

Lilly comes wandering up and takes a defensive seat next to Gus and it’s the final kick in the ass he needs.

With your little family sitting in front of him, waiting for him to get off his ass and make things right, he slowly raises back to his feet.

He sighs, leaning against the tree. He’s not as tired as he used to be a few weeks ago. He can bear some weight on his leg again. You did that. You put him back together again. You fixed him. He can fix one night.

“Time to be a man, Miller.”

____________________

The tears came so suddenly. It’s embarrassing, which only makes you cry harder. You sit there in the kitchen corner weeping into your hands like a teen girl on prom night that got stood up. Yeah, embarrassing.

You must look particularly pathetic because even Gus didn’t stick around to comfort you.

Why did this bother you so much? You’d been called every name in the book working as an apocalypse medic. You’d seen death countless times, you’d told families they’d never see their loved one again, you’d been through absolute hell at the hands of others, so why did a few harsh words from Joel stab so deep?

Because it was him. Because you wanted something from him. It wasn’t quite rejections… but it was close.

Part of you wanted to scream at him too, find out what his fucking problem is. You offer him home comforts and he does this? Childish. The other part of you thinks he’s right. He told you to forget it and you went ahead anyway, thinking it would all be fine.

He was right. You didn’t know anything about him. Almost nothing. He wouldn’t let you in.

But why should he? Why should anyone? He didn’t owe you his life story or undying loyalty because you did what any rational good person should do. Yes, you saved his life, but something like that isn’t weighed in favors and secrets. It doesn’t require repayment.

Joel didn’t owe you anything.

So why did you really try to throw this little party? For you. For selfish, arrogant reasons. You were looking for something to make you feel human again and this was the best option. Everything in your life had to be justified. There can’t be enjoyment just for enjoyment's sake. Everything had to be done for a reason— and tonight he was that reason. Joel Miller was making you feel human again.

When the second realization about his birthday hits you, the pit in your stomach drops even deeper.

You knew the date seemed so familiar, probably because you wanted to forget it. Everyone did. September 26th, the day the world ended. Joel’s birthday was on fucking outbreak day. Of course he’d want to forget whatever horrors he’d seen that day. Every year a constant reminder. What a horrible coincidence to carry with you. Terrible luck of the draw.

Still, in the absolute mess you find yourself in, you’re still angry. You’re angry at him. Frustrated he’d talk to you that way. React so callously and scold you like a child for trying to do something kind. Suddenly, it feels like you’re back at square one with him. You want to scream at him, you want apologize profusely— you just want to cry.

You’re not sure how long you sit on the kitchen floor but eventually the tears stop— and then the door opens.

You pop up from the floor, wiping your cheeks one last time with your sleeve as if that would even hide your red puffy eyes.

He stands there in the open doorway, remorse painted on his pitiful face. Good.

“Darlin’... have you been—”

“I’m fine,” You spit, wiping your face in the most threatening way you can manage, “Here to yell at me more?”

“I’m not—” He cuts himself off, turning to close the door. Gus and Lilly scurry in before he does so. They immediately come to sit at your feet. Did they… go get him for you? Well, at least you know whose side they’re on now. Joel scratches at his neck, seemingly unable to make eye contact, “I don’t suppose I’m sorry is enough here.”

“It’s a start,” You cross your arms and lean back against the counter, letting out a heavy sigh of your own. You were angry, yes, but he’s allowed to be angry too. He made a boundary and you deliberately stepped over it thinking everything would be fine. He’s not the only one at fault, “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry too.”

His head instantly snaps in your direction, “You have nothing to be sorry for. I just—you— I didn’t expect— I’m sorry. There are things that I just don’t—”

He stammers and trips over his words but the message is clear. He’s trying. He’s really trying and that counts for something, however small.

“You wanna… talk about it?” You extend an olive branch.

“No.” he bites out just a little too quickly. You see him immediately kick himself for how harshly it came out. There was more here than met the eye— you decide to drop it. If he doesn’t want to say, then it’s not your damn business.

Again, You were both at fault here. You for sticking your nose where it didn’t need to be and him for just being an ass about it. You were both being children here.

Time to grow up.

You start, “I’ll turn this all off. You don’t have to—”

“No,” He cuts you off abruptly, “It’d be a waste to— You went through the trouble I mean.”

You smile, “Would you still like to have a birthday party, Mr. Miller?”

“I–” he pressed his lips together, suppressing some more outrage, “Can we— let’s call it something else. Please.”

“Okay,” you nod quietly. Not a birthday party. That’s just fine. It’s still his party. You take down two glasses and pour some chokecherry wine. You push his glass closer. He’s hesitant at first but eventually comes to the counter. He takes his glass and you raise yours to his. “To an ongoing recovery.”

He huffs a small smile and tinks his glass to yours, “To not dyin’, I suppose.”

You can’t help but cringe when the simultaneously bitter and overly sweet liquid hits your tongue. You notice he does the same. You’d hoped a year of sitting dormant in the cellar would help the flavor calm down— apparently not.

“Wow, that’s... something,” He wheezes, swirling the remaining liquid in his glass.

“Yeah, it is. But like I said—” You exhale before downing the rest of your glass, “It gets the job done and I haven’t gone blind yet.”

You hold your resolve for a few seconds, feeling rather proud of yourself, before breaking into a coughing fit from the burning in your throat.

“Jesus Christ, girl,” Joel pats your back in an attempt to comfort you, despite the smile plastered on his face. Well, at least he’s smiling, even if you look like an absolute moron right now.

“Smoothest in the county,” You wheeze, wiping a stray tear from your eye. You feel the heat in your cheeks rising and you can’t help but laugh at yourself a little. He tries to hide it but he does the same.

“You really are something, Darlin’,” He grins, taking another, much smaller, sip from his glass.

And just like that, the air between you two was breathable again.

“So,” Joel leans against the counter, arms crossed, “What do you usually do on nights like this?”

“Well, this is your party,” you lean next to him, “What would you like?”

He opens his mouth for a millisecond before closing it again. He turns away from you, eyes darting to the ground. What was he thinking about? What was he going to say?

“You said you have music?” He asks. You absolutely know that’s not what he was originally going to ask, but you still gesture to the far corner of the living room where the dusty stereo and cassette collection lay.

He strolls over, taking a cursory glance at the packed shelf. Art may have liked the isolation but he kept a good collection of music to keep him sane. One of the few things you think he loved just for the sake of it. So many things here had to have a purpose, a reason for existing in this well-maintained space. Something to aid in basic survival. Music probably did, in a way, have a purpose here. All anyone had to gain from it was joy. A memory. A feeling. Just another thing to make you feel human again.

Joel makes his selection and places it in the tape player with a defined click. You expect to hear Johnny Cash or something like what he’s been teaching himself to play for the last few weeks. Instead— he’s picked Elton John. Art had a ‘best of’ collection of his work. Admittedly one of your favorites in the tape collection.

The familiar slow, melodic piano rumbles through the ancient speakers. You recognize the song instantly. An unexpected choice but not unwelcome either.

Don’t Let the Sun Go Down On Me

Joel stands with a small grunt and turns to face you, hand outstretched.

“Dance with me.”

Your brows immediately shoot up, “Dance with you?”

“This is my party, isn’t it?” he drawls, “You said we can do what I want. I want a dance.”

You say nothing, dragging your fingers across the counter before making your way towards him. Every hair on your body stands on end as you approach. He stands there waiting in the center of the living room, bathed in mismatched Christmas lights.

You suppress a gasp when you take his hand and he pulls you into him, flush against his chest. Hesitantly your hand goes up to his shoulder while he lowers his to the small of your back. You swear the sensation of his massive hands on you sends sparks shooting down your legs. He starts to sway you both gently in rhythm.

“I don’t really know how to dance,” You admit.

“Me neither,” he responds, “Learned a little in high school, though.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Oh, back when stagecoaches were still new.” He scoffs, pulling you away for a slow and somewhat clumsy twirl, “To be fair it was just square dancin’.”

“Oh, well, this is prime square dancing music.” You attempt to joke, hiding your reddening face against his chest. He huffs a small laugh and rests his chin on your head. It’s more intimate but at least you don’t have to look him in the eye now. You just barely hear his heartbeat above it all. Strong and steady, a little faster than you expected. You try to lose yourself in music, hoping it will ease your new anxieties that boil over from just being this close to him.

I can't find, oh, the right romantic line

But see me once and see the way I feel

Don't discard me just because you think I mean you harm

But these cuts I have, oh, they need love to help them heal

Don't let the sun go down on me

Although I search myself, it's always someone else I see

I'd just allow a fragment of your life– to wander free

The chorus is grand and beautiful, nothing that should be associated with Joel and your awkward side-to-side swaying. And yet… it seemed so right. The two of you were so small, and somehow the only thing that mattered in the world.

In your time living at the end of the world, you’ve found it’s not the acts of heroism and grand gestures that kept you going. It was the small things. A hello. A hug. Drinking the worst wine in the world and having an awkward dance with a practical stranger. A kiss. The small things.

And even though this was his night, you still got what you wanted— you felt human again.

“Happy… recovery, Joel.”

“Thank you, darlin’.”

___________________________

It was perfect. He didn’t want to admit it, but it was. He can’t recall the last time he’d listened to music for reasons beyond getting code from Frank. He can’t even recall the last movie he’d watched. No… No, that’s not true. It was ten years ago on his couch. Has it really been ten years? He does his best to push the memories aside and just enjoy the moment.

Yet here he was in almost the same exact place he was all those years ago when his life changed forever. The irony is not lost on him. And in a way he doesn’t quite understand, it felt… healing. Like he was facing something. Or maybe he’d finally laid some feelings to rest.

You lay there asleep, head resting on his shoulder while some western he’d never heard of played on the ancient little box TV in the background. You’d made a cake. You’d made popcorn, the whole nine yards. It was so domestic. A treat, you called these nights.

You were right, he supposes. A chance to just pretend everything was okay. To live like normal people used to. A night to not worry about all the challenges tomorrow brought and fall asleep watching some boring movie you’d never heard of. The new American dream.

A treat.

Even if it was all a fantasy, he’s happy you shared it with him. Just another thing he can never repay you for.

What could he ever give you that could ever compare to what you’d given him? Himself— he could give you himself, maybe. In a way, his life was already yours. You’d saved it, after all. But if he gave it to you, would you want it? If he took off his mask and showed you the monster that was underneath would you run?

Yes, of course you would.

Despite everything that happened here, good things didn’t happen to Joel Miller. He was a walking curse, plague and death following in his wake. If he stayed here, he’d drag you down to hell with him. It’s what always happens.

He can’t let this continue. He can’t let his selfish desires win and take over.

He had tonight with you, and that’d have to be enough.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #tlou #the last of us #recovery time

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sugasiren · 1 year

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☆ASTRO FACTS☆ ♈️

The Aries Woman & Her Real Power ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 Pt 1

**FYI - this blog contains mature content.

Time to clear up some misconceptions! And confirm some truths. So pull up your seat, grab a snack & prepare for TOTAL fucking honesty. 💯 While this post is primarily about Aries Suns, much of it can also be applied to other Aries placements in general. So take whatever resonates.

♈️ Aries Women are usually into more dominant, masculine types. They adore men who are stronger & smarter than them whom they can learn from. 👍While Aries Women are indeed fully capable of taking care of themselves, they love knowing that they can lean on and trust the man that they love if needed. They prefer reliable partners with backbone. They have NO respect for passive males, as they will DESTROY a weaker man's soul. 🔥 Eat him alive just like the large plant in the 'Little Shop of Horrors' movie. 🤣 It truly ain't pretty!

♈️ Contrary to popular LIES... many Aries Women are VERY feminine. They aren't doormats though! Nor the girl-next-door type. Ram Women typically embody the "Hot Girl" or the "Femme Fatale" brand of Femininity. ❤️‍🔥 She's often the Leader of the pack whom other women model themselves after & want to be like. Jayne Mansfield, Diana Ross & Mariah Carey - Aries Sun 🌞; Sade, Janet Jackson, Pam Anderson - Aries Moon 🌙; Marilyn Monroe & Liz Taylor - Aries Venus ⚘️. Are any of these women Tomboys?? FUCK NO! They are womanly, spicy & passionate beings. Learn the damn difference.

I sometimes find that Taurus, Cancer & Virgo Women can push the "masculine" stereotype onto Aries Women the most because they wish to be more like them in certain ways. 💯 For instance, most Aries Women aren't taking care of ANY man. But I've seen Taurus paying for men, Cancer mothering men & Virgo trying to train men into being obedient dogs! Add to that, Scorpio Women are often control freaks who insist on leading. Sag & Aquarius Women are rebels who often try to compete with & emasculate any man that they encounter. So who's actually lacking in Femininity here?? Not Aries, from what I see. 🤷🏾‍♀️ Lots of projection going on.

♈️ Aries Women are indeed outspoken. They are typically confident & in possession of strong boundaries. They are open & honest communicators who aren't afraid to ask for what they want. Most Men LOVE this about them and wish more women were like this! 🩷 Alternatively, deep inside of every Ram Woman is a sweet, adventurous little girl with a heart of GOLD who yearns to feel safe. ❤️‍🔥 A maiden wanting her protector! They're an astonishing blend of pure innocence like the Spring Goddess Persephone + the wit & warrior spirit of Goddess Athena. 🙌 There are sooo many interesting layers to the Aries Woman!! It's insanely fascinating. They are deeply selective with who they disclose all of this to, though. So they can be misunderstood at times.

♈️ Aries Women are Masters of keeping men ON THEIR TOES in a healthy way. They like men and men adore them. 👌 They highly value autonomy, so they extend that to their partners and give them breathing room. They inspire men to be better, more powerful versions of themselves. They do have tempers!! But they don't hold grudges and their sex more than makes up for the trouble. 😺 They are playful and NEVER boring! How TF do you think we keep attracting the best of the best?? Not by being a Basic Bitch, my friends. 🤣

♈️ According to Marriage Statistics: Aries Women have the longest-lasting marriages with Leo Men, Sagittarius Men, Aquarius Men & Aries Men. ⚘️⚘️ After that, we also have solid odds with Capricorn & Taurus Men. We most often divorce Virgo, Gemini & Libra Men which makes TOTAL sense to me. Not surprised! Aries Women do not enjoy flaky and/or nitpicky partners.

♈️ Aries Women are just as sensitive & intuitive as Cancers in certain ways - we just follow our GUT instincts more than the emotions of our heart. 🔥 We're rarely wrong about someone's character. We bully the bullies! And *if* we care about you, we have your back until the very end. But if you betray us?? You will go from feeling like the most special person in the world... to the most worthless piece of gum scraping off the bottom of our shoe as we walk away from you FOREVER. 🙌 Do not play with us!! Don't play yourself by losing the best prize you'll ever have.

That's all for now, darlings. Happy Aries Season!! ♈️ And thanks so very much for all of the new follows, shares & support!

#astro observations #astro notes #aries season #aries woman #aries astrology #aries #aries sun #astro tumblr #astroblr #leo sun #sagittarius #aquarius #capricorn #persephone #athena

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chickenparm · 7 months

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Tradition - Part Seven

Check out @drawlypsy’s full version of the header that can be found here!

“Sn-Snezhnayan tradition dictates in a traditional battle, the winner is allowed to request one thing from the-” another cough, born from phlegm in his throat that rattles wetly, “from the loser.” (or, You accept a bet and despite not winning, you’re not sure if you’ve actually lost.)

Previous Part | Next Part AO3 Link

Childe/f!Reader 2,123 Words - SFW Bamboozled into marriage, awkwardness, fluff, future smut

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Once, perhaps the second or third rematch, Childe made small talk as he sprawled across the floor, leaned back on his hands behind him. First, he mentioned his brother that you’d helped; Teucer. Then, he slipped aimlessly from one topic to the other.

A comfortable cottage made of stone and well-made roof thatching, settled at the edge of a little fishing village tucked along the coastline of Snezhnaya. Its shores protected from battering waves by slow-moving icebergs that create an ever-shifting wall from the outside world.

And in that cottage, in that village, is his family. Siblings who are genuinely happy to see him, parents that put smiles on their faces and tension at the corner of their eyes. A backyard with a ruin guard, its core removed. Farmland that had once been worked by his family to sustain them that lay barren now thanks to Childe’s flow of cash.

Childe paints a pretty picture of rigid mountains, forests of pine trees that would be a deep green if not for the layers and layers of snow covering each individual needle. Frozen lakes that are sturdier than the earth itself, protesting as he drills holes to fish through. The sky stretching into the distance, clear and cold and blue.

Snezhnaya is as beautiful as he describes it to be.

The ship was forced to wait in the small harbor for the night. To approach Morepesok without the guiding light of the sun would be to openly invite the vessel to go ahead and sink. The icebergs don’t move quickly, but they do move, and the village is small enough that the light can’t quite reach out to where you prop your chin on the cold, frozen wood of the ship’s railing.

The moon is just passed new. A thin little sliver, squinting down at the way your breath pushes from your nose in a sigh, the cloud drifting up and away. The stars here are no different than the ones in Mondstadt, or Liyue, or Sumeru, but they seem somehow both brighter and more far away. Like even they are afraid of the chill that’s just barely being fought off by the thick cloak and clothing you’ve procured for the trip.

On your left hand, the ring is warmed happily by your body heat.

It’s getting late, and you should return to the bunk room to get some sleep before you try to piece together Childe’s descriptions to find your way. Before, not so long ago, you would have been endlessly irritated that you could recall such descriptions with picture-perfect clarity. It’s as if he’s dreamily reciting memories of his homeland to you right now, at your side.

But now, it’s comforting. Soothing enough to lull you asleep with the rocking of the ship and the quiet thudding of your heart in anticipation.

Sumeru was - is - arduous. Scaramouche is spirited away somewhere by Nahida, but that’s still a mess that needs to be cleaned up. There’s still so much to do, so many places to explore, every little rock and ruin to pick through for even a trace of your sibling. Even Dainsleif would be a welcome arrival; it’s about that time again where he shows his face and says things that only leave you more confused and frustrated.

Maybe it’s actually better he stays away for a little. Your life is complicated enough as it is.

You awaken to the sound of the crew on the deck, of orders being called out. It takes only a moment for you to blink at the ceiling and decipher the fact that there isn’t the sort of urgency that suggests an emergency. It’s alright to lay in your bunk a little longer.

Hands laced over your stomach as you look upward, you think about Paimon. Dunyarzad had been plenty happy for Paimon to stay with her family - god knows they’d be able to foot the bill for an appetite like that. But Paimon had been adamant she come with you in case you do find your wayward fiance.

“Who knows what will happen! You’ll come back and you’ll be… be… Mrs. Tartaglia, or something! Paimon has to make sure you don’t get swept off and married before Paimon can be there!”

But of course, by “being with you”, she meant tucked away in the nice, warm teapot that sits in your inventory. Close enough that you can call on her if the time for nuptials comes, but far enough away that she doesn’t have to deal with the cold of Snezhnaya.

“Paimon is… cold-blooded! Once Paimon gets cold, it’s all over!” And that’s okay. As much as you appreciate your companion, it’s nice to have a little time alone.

You’ve never really been alone before.

A bell rings somewhere up above, signifying the final approach to the docks. The ship is small enough that you can get to the deck in a few short steps and prepare to disembark. Leaning against the same railing from the evening prior, you look out on the village in the light of day. It’s not exactly as you imagined, but it fits perfectly as it had been described.

As a fishing village, you expected it to be a little more gray, a little more dreary. As a Snezhnayan village, you expected it to be less populated, a little less busy.

It subverts your expectations in all those ways. There are already people on the dock ready to help moor the ship. Not so far away, you can see the square of the village, lit with a crackling bonfire to warm those who seem to be doing shopping at a morning market. Food must always be fresh, if it’s colder than an icebox all the time.

And the fish. Childe wasn’t lying about the size of the fish. As you walk past one in the square to enjoy the bonfire for a moment, you swear its eyes seem to follow you. But surely it’s dead, and you’re just feeling odd being in a place so new without anyone else to comfort you.

Right, you tell yourself, holding your mitten-clad hands out to accept the fire’s warmth, a moment longer here, and I’ll start that search in earnest.

A moment turns into two, then three, and before long you realize you’re simply wasting time and stalling. You’re better at recognizing it now, after scrutinizing your behavior toward Childe and this situation. Diversion after stall tactic after excuse to drag things out. And then you took long enough that the two of you were separated before you could make any further headway.

Though, he’s already an indeterminable amount of distance away from you, so what’s a few moments longer?

If the fire was a finite resource, it would be accurate to pin you with the sin of greed. Snezhnaya is so cold, colder than it would be if you had another form by your side that would let you snuggle into his cloak and press yourself against him to leech his warmth.

Instead, a different body slams into you, almost knocking you off balance and into the wet slush on the ground made of melted snow.

Your name, chanted in a cheerful voice with the slightest lisp of a child missing their front teeth. Over and over as his arms squeeze tighter and tighter, only loosening when another voice pipes up, “Wait, this is Ajax’s-?”

The voice cuts off and a third voice says, only in somewhat of a whisper, “Yeah! But don’t say anything, remember? Mama and Papa don’t know yet, and you know Teucer can’t keep a secret for his life.”

Teucer is who clings to you with giggling laughter and a cacophony of words that you can’t quite make out beyond his happiness at seeing you here. The other two would be unmistakable as his siblings - as Childe’s siblings. A girl with long orange hair in a braid, and blue eyes that have the same shine as Teucer’s. A boy with a darker shade of auburn, cropped short and looking far too serious for someone his age.

Still bewildered, your mind wanders in the chaos as you contemplate whether a younger Childe was more similar to Teucer, or the pre-teen boy that you can only assume is Anthon. It’s difficult to imagine Childe with such an expression on his face; he seems far more suited to wide smiles and laughter and freckles on his cheeks.

The two others don’t introduce themselves to you. It doesn’t seem necessary, considering they’re obviously aware of who and what you are, and you’ve heard more than your fair share of stories about Childe’s siblings. But still, you do your best to give them a smile before looking down at Teucer to pry his arms from around your waist. He’s letting the warmth out from inside your cloak, after all.

“It’s good to see you, too. What happened to your teeth?”

“They fell out-”

“He slipped on the ice face-first and knocked them out.” Anthon says, stepping forward to scrutinize you better. “They’re still in the snow somewhere, we couldn’t find ‘em. Is Ajax with you?”

It takes a moment for you to process the mystery of Teucer’s missing teeth, immediately followed by a question that answers an unspoken one of your own. So he isn’t here. Unfortunate - that ticket cost a lot of mora, considering the vessel wasn’t meant for passengers. Who takes a Winter trip to Snezhnaya, anyway? Much less to a little fishing village more than a day of travel from the capitol.

Anthon asked a question, and you shake your head to answer, “No, he isn’t. I was actually hoping he was here, with you. We’ve been… apart for business, and I’m not sure where he’s stationed at the moment.”

“Well, the last letter he sent didn’t say where, so we dunno either.” Tonia explains, stepping forward as well. “It’s a good thing we found you before anyone else did.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Your question sounds a little guarded. It’s probably not necessary to be defensive around the children who will inevitably be your in-laws, but they’re giving you the answers to questions you weren’t even aware of, and suddenly the snow feels a little too bright, the fire too warm, your cloak too heavy.

Breathe.

Sumeru took a lot out of you, put a lot into you that you’re still working through. A fear of too much happening at once - one-hundred and sixty eight defeats against a metal monstrosity of elemental power would burden anyone with an anxiety they can’t quite shake.

In the midst of your swirling thoughts, Tonia interjects, reaching down beside her to a basket that had carefully been tucked into the snow. “Teucer, why don’t you run this back to Mama? She’s waiting on these and you’re the fastest runner. We’ll bring the Traveler, so don’t worry!”

The boy doesn’t even bat an eye. He accepts the basket with a look of determination, “I won’t even need a break!”

“Watch your footing, don’t slip again-”

“Yeah, or your bottom teeth will go next.” Anthon’s teasing could be construed as rude, but there’s a smile on his face, a smile on Teucer’s, and maybe that’s just a thing between them you don’t quite get. Surely your twin has made jibes like that in the past, but it feels like a lifetime since you last held their hand in yours before dispersing into golden light and stardust.

Once Teucer is far out of earshot, Anthon no longer withholds information.

“Ajax hasn’t said a word about your engagement to our parents.” He says with a seriousness that makes you wonder if perhaps his parents are some sort of abyssal beasts that would have their transformations triggered by the mention of holy matrimony.

Tonia further clarifies, “Don’t be mad at him about it. It’s like.. a Snezhnayan tradition that the mother of the groom plans the wedding. And she said Ajax is old enough that he really should start looking-”

“Anyway, he obviously had a reason for only telling Tonia and me, so-”

“So, you shouldn’t say anything about it for now. Did you come here looking for him? Where from?” Tonia’s voice goes from trying too hard to seem grown-up to having that childlike inquisitiveness that Teucer still enjoys. Her gloved hand wraps around your arm to start guiding you along Teucer’s footprints in the snow. Anthon follows behind, listening as you do your best to answer her questions and ignore the unsettled feeling in your stomach of once again having no direction.

There’s a suspiciously Teucer-shaped indent in the disturbed snow on the path, a footprint skidding longer than the others. You ignore that, too.

#childe #tartaglia #genshin impact #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #childe x reader #childe/reader #tartaglia x reader #tartaglia/reader #genshin #multi part #multi chap

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tashacee · 6 months

Note

You said you’d made aspect of grace to be a lot whumpier at first

*Looks right*

*Looks left*

You uh, you still got that whumpier version?/j

Genuinely though, what was it originally like?

Let me look through my drive, see if i can find the rough draft lmao

Okay, turns out i still have the entire original chapter and DAMN it is whump. OOFT.

Also originally the lizalfos that killed Wild was straight up Dink. I forgot about that.

Anyway, I'll put it under the cut if you're interested :)

Wind knelt beside wild, numb, his mind refusing to process, refusing to accept the terrible truth in front of him. Around him he could see movement, hear his brothers shouting, feel someone grab his arm and try to jolt him out of his stupor, but he didn’t pay them any heed.

It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. The world had stopped turning and all the colour had been drained from the world around him

Because wild was dead.

It had been a normal day, like any other. No, scratch that, it had been better than that. It had been a great day. The sun had been shining and despite the cool autumn morning they had all relished in it, stripping cloaks and coats and enjoying the rare day of quiet sunlight. They were crossing a wide expanse of wetlands, the sunlight reflecting off of the water as all of their boots and socks were soaked through, but despite a few token complaints, no one much minded.

It was a good day. They were all happy and high spirited, cracking jokes and grinning and messing about, Wind most of all.

Any other day he wouldn’t have grabbed the slate from wild’s hip. Any other day he wouldn’t have cackled and dashed off, waving it in the air in the world’s most childish game of ‘keep away’ he could manage.

Wild had yowled in protest and dashed after him, but fast as the cat man was, wind had a head start and was determined to mess about in the way that only a little brother could.

The others had joined in. When wild had been about to catch him, wind tossed the slate to wars, who nimbly caught it and took over running away, laughing all the time. Wild had been laughing too, yipping in amusement as well as giving the rumble that Wind was pretty sure was his version of swearing.

If he had really been mad, wind would have stopped. None of them would have gone on. But he was laughing. He was having fun.

Wars three the slate to Hyrule, who threw it to Twilight, who wind feared for a moment would give it back to Wild. But the Rancher just threw it back to Wind, sticking his tongue out at his brother while the others crowed in laughter, and wind bolted off again.

It was a good day.

And then it wasn’t.

The lizalfos had seemed to come from nowhere. It must have been hiding in the space between some rocks, waiting for them to approach. That was the thing about black blooded monsters, they were so much more clever, so much more intelligent, and this one seemed so much more than most.

It sprang out, teeth bared, jagged blade drawn. Its eyes glowed red against the oily black of its scales, and it radiated a dark magic so thick that wind could taste it in the air. He shouted in surprise and tried to leap out of the way, but his foot caught on a submerged root and he stumbled.

He went sprawling, dropping the slate in the mud as he fell and landing face first in the water. He barely rolled over in time to miss the next blow from the lizalfos’ blade. He tried to scramble to his feet, to get his bearings. He needed to move, to defend himself - he reached for his sword but he was of kilter, his hands were shaking and he fumbled. The lizalfos swung-

And it’s bland was blocked, parried away as a massive shape dove in front of him. Wild, his sword drawn as he repelled back the creature’s blade, teeth bared and growling.

Where were the others? Where they really that far behind?

There was no time to stop, no time to think. Wind finally got his grip on his sword and shield, ready to dove in and help his brother, but it was too late.

The lizalfos swung again. Wild blocked him again with his sword, but it was an old, worn thing from his own era, and it couldn’t take the strain. The blade shattered, and seeing the opportunity, the lizalfos lunged again.

And it’s blade met fur and flesh and bone. And wild made a sound, small and breathy and pained, his eyes widening in shock.

Wind surged forwards, kicking the lizalfos backwards and swinging at it wildly as the others finally reached their position. Wars, legend, and time leapt into battle with him, pressing on the beast as behind them Hyrule rushed to wild’s side.

It was only one lizalfos. Even black blooded, it shouldn’t have been as fierce, as intelligent as it was. It shouldn’t have looked like it was smiling. It shouldn’t have cackled when time finally ran it through, and rather than dissolving to dust like a normal monster, fading away like a shadow in the sunlight.

Something told wind that it wasn’t gone for good, but it was gone for now and that was good enough for him. Shuddering, he dropped his sword and spun around, running to where he had left Wild. He would be fine, they’d all been stabbed before, but wild was strong! He was hardy, he would be fine-

He was lying in the water, limp and unmoving. Twilight has pulled his head and shoulders onto his knees and was bent double over him, his face screwed up and sobbing. Beside him, Hyrule sat pale faced and horrified, his hands at his side. Why wasn’t he doing something? Why wasn’t he healing him?

The fur on wild’s torso was matted with blood, the water around him stained a horrible red. He wasn’t breathing. He wasn’t breathing

“Wild!” Wind ran forwards, grabbing his hand. “Hyrule help him! Do something!”

Hyrule just shook his head, tears beginning to slip over his cheeks. Wind knew why. He could see it plain as day, could see the gaping wound through Wild’s chest, knew that it was not an injury anyone could survive. Still, even as all of his brothers knelt around them, saw the terrible sight and understood the horrible truth, Wind could not accept it. Would not accept it.

So he knelt there, staring at his unmoving brother, holding his hand and not caring as the frigid water soaked into his trousers.

Wild was dead, and he just couldn’t accept it.

After Wild’s first adventure, the gifts given to him by his fellow champions had faded. His old friends had moved on, after all, their spirits finally getting to rest after so long in limbo, and one by one their gifts left the space where they had rested in his soul.

Wild was okay with this. Much as he missed them, much as he missed the powers they gave him, he was glad that they were finally at peace.

Mipha was the last to linger, and he wasn’t really that surprised. Her caring instinct had always been strong and she had always wanted to help.

Then the weeks turned into months. And the months turned into years. And somehow, although he couldn’t quite feel her presence, there was still a sense of… something. Something that felt like gentle healing and and glowed a soft blue. Not the presence of a spirit, but the tender touch of a blessing.

know this: that no matter how difficult this battle might get... if you—if anyone ever tries to do you harm... Then I will heal you.

Zelda theorised that it was the final gift of the Zora princess. That even though she herself had moved on, the healing power of her Grace had remained, in one form or other. Even with the scant few memories of Mipha that Wild had, he was inclined to agree.

This said, he had never been particularlykeen to try it out. Mipha’s Grace had only ever activated when he had been injured badly enough to be at the point of death, and funnily enough he wasn’t overly eager to get to that point. It was enough to feel her blessing, however strong it may be, and to know that she had found peace.

Now, though, Wild floated in a limbo.

He wasn’t entirely clear on how he had ended up in this foggy, dark place. Someone had been in danger, someone important to him, and he had acted on impulse to save them. He had saved them, this important person, he was certain of that, but in the process he had gotten himself badly hurt.

He was dying. He knew that. And something about that was familiar.

He floated there, in that dark limbo, neither warm nor cold, neither feeling pain nor comfort, neither seeing nor blind, and he wondered vaguely why he was still here. He was no longer in his body, of that he was certain, but neither was he moving on.

Why was he not moving on?

Maybe something else had to happen first.

He waited, and inside of him something soft and blue began to pulse and itch. Around his chest, he felt something begin to come together.

This was also familiar, but he was sure that whatever it was used to be faster, stronger.

Huh.

He waited, patient in the darkness, and then all of a sudden hhis awareness came back to him with a terrible clarity. He was Link - wild! - and he had been trying to save Wind. He had taken a sword to the chest to save his brother and he was dying, should be dead already -

But swirling around him, in the soft darkness of death, was a ribbon of blue energy, oh so softly knitting his wounds together. Mipha. Her grace, her final blessing, still saving his life so long after she had left hers behind. It would take longer, without the strength of her spirit to guide the healing, and it would not be as complete as it had been in the past. It would, he knew now, save him from death.

He couldn’t believe that he had been given such a gift. If such a thing was possible in this strange, limbo space, he would have wept.

Instead he waited for an indeterminate amount of time for the healing to be done.

And then he opened his eyes.

Every ounce of him hurt.

It wasn’t really the nicest feeling to wake up to, but given that he was waking up at all, he didn’t really feel as if he had the right to complain. In the past when Mipha had healed him he had come around almost instantly, his wounds fully healed and his energy restored, but it didn’t look like that would be happening any more. He was saved from the brink of death, but he still had plenty of wounds that needed healed.

And damnit, they hurt.

He wanted to groan but he wasn’t quite there yet, wasn’t quite ready to fully control his body. Everything felt so heavy. Instead he focused on grounding himself, on figuring out his surroundings, on what was happening around him.

He was lying on his back, on the ground. No not quite on the ground, someone had laid out a blanket underneath him. One of his softest blankets, if he was feeling it right. Aw, guys! He couldn’t help but feel touched that they had done that for him even when-

Oh. Oh right. They probably all thought he was dead. There was no telling how long he had been out while Mipha healed him. Shit.

Well, at least he hadn’t been buried yet. He really didn’t fancy climbing out of his own grave.

Again.

He focused on more of his surroundings. He could feel someone clutching his hand, their head pressed against his knuckles as they sobbed silently. Against his other side a small figure was curled up and also crying, less silently. WInd? And maybe Twilight?

This wasn’t good. He needed to move, to tell them that he was okay. He tried to put some strength into his aching muscles but he was still too groggy, his mind felt like he was swimming through a haze, his body not obeying his orders.

In the background, he could hear the crackle of a fire, but no one was speaking. He thought that he could hear a few more people crying, and someone moving something metal, was that a ladle on a cookpot? They weren’t trying to cook, were they? It was bad enough that Wild had died, now they wanted to give themselves food poisoning?

Wild tried to move again and was not successful, but did manage to push a low whine out of his throat.

THe hand holding Wild’s tightened and the sobbing stopped abruptly. To his side, the small figure that he was certain was wind sat up, moving close to his face.

“Wild?” Wind’s voice asked, horribly rough and choked with tears.

Wild was still too weak to move, but he whined again and managed to get his eyelids to flutter, his vision blurry but just about focusing on the tear stained faces of Twilight and Wind. Hylia they looked awful, their faces pale and drawn, their hair a mess. They were both covered in blood, both red and black, and looked like it had never occurred to them to clean off.

WIld whined again, and Wind shot to his feet.

“HYRULE!” He all but screamed. “Hyrule hurry up! He’s alive! Wild’s alive!”

There was a commotion at the other side of the camp as several of the chain shouted in disbelief. Wild focused on Twilight as the rest of his brothers rushed over, managing to tilt his head to butt at his brother’s knee and rumbling softly.

Twilight’s face crumpled into a smile and he began to cry again, throwing his arms around Wild’s shoulders and burying himself into a hug. Wild couldn’t lie, it hurt, but he didn’t mind and leaned into it as best he could. On his other side, Hyrule had all but thrown himself on the ground beside him, tear-streaked and breathless, his eyes wide with hope and amazement.

Wild looked around and met his eyes, purring weakly in greeting. Hyrule gasped and covered his mouth and then set about looking over Wild’s wounds.

“Twilight.” came Warriors’ voice, thich with emotion, “Come on, you can still hold his hand but you need to sit up so Rulie can look over him.” the Captain appeared in the periphery of Wild’s vision, gently peeling the Rancher back and helping him sit up.

Twi sniffed in an extremely undignified manner and knuckled the tears from his face, laughing weakly as he took Wild’s hand again. He squeezed it, and Wild squeezed back, rumbling softly.

He could see the rest of the chain hovering around the edges of his vision, watching and waiting with baited breath as Hyrule looked over his injuries. The slash across his chest was still there, though no longer so deep, and the myriad smaller cuts and bruises across his body were still open and burning.

The familiar pulse of Hyrule’s magic began to wash across his chest, slowly closing the wound and easing the worst of the pain. While no longer life threatening, it was still deep, and clearly too much for Hyrule to heal all at once, and with the main injury more or less closed he sighed heavily and flopped down next to Wild, exhausted. He turned to look at him, his eyes heavy with exhaustion, and buried himself into his side, sobbing.

Wild purred and carefully lifted his arm to stroke Hyrules hair as the Traveller burrowed in closer to his side.

“I think.” Came legend’s voice from beside Hyrule. Wild looked around and was surprised to see that even the bitter, caustic Veteran had tear tracks down his cheeks. “I think that means that Wild is well enough for us all to give him hell for that shock.”

Wild whined softly - the slash in his chest may have closed, but he still felt sore and exhausted. But Legend was smiling as he spoke and reached down to ruffle Wild’s hair. “Glaad to have you back. Don’t know how we would have broken the news to the citizens of cat island.”

Wild snorted and shook him off. Legend cleared his throat and looked away, looking suspiciously like he was blinking back tears.

“Come on, guys, give the idiot space. He’s just come back from the dead, he doesn’t need us climbing all over him.” Legend smiled and moved away, cheeks flushed with emotion. He pulled some of the others with him, Warriors and Four and Sky all pausing to squeeze Wild’s arm, shoulder, to tell him how glad they were to have him back before retreating to the campfire. At Legend’s urging, Hyrule stumbled up too and let the Veteran guide him over to his own bedroll where he could rest properly.

Almost immediately, Wind threw himself back into Wild’s side. Wild squealed as he jostled his wounds and Time, still in his full armour, still dishevelled and battle-worn, put a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, Sailor, go easy on him.”

Wind squirmed and pulled back a little, his face tearful as he looked at Wild. “I’m so sorry.” he whispered, gently setting a slightly muddy sheikah slate next to Wild. “If I hadn’t stolen it I wouldn’t have tun on ahead and you wouldn’t have - you wouldn’t have gotten hurt-”

Wild whined and turned slightly out of Twilight’s grip to nuzzle at the sailor, ignoring the pain that flared up through his chest as he moved. Rumbling softly, he disentangled his arms from his brothers’ grips to try a shaky sign.

“All good. Not you. Me. My-” dammit, he didn’t know the word for ‘choice’. Ugh, whatever. Moving on. “Wind. Brother. Family. Safe.” that would have to do, he didn’t know any more sign and he was getting exhausted.

“The only person at fault was that damn lizard.” Time repeated soothingly. “Go and get some water, will you, Wind? WIld probably needs a drink.”

Wild nodded and gave a thumbs up, and glad to be useful, Wind dashed off.

Now alone with just Time and Twi, Wild exhaled heavily. He understood why his brothers were so emotional, he was feeling pretty emotional himself, but he was really too tired to taake it all in.

Time sat down beside him. “You really were dead, weren’t you cub?” he asked. On wild’s other side, Twilight shuddered. Wild nodded. “But you came back. Did you know you would? Or do you know how?”

Wild shrugged weakly and then nodded. He didn’t know for sure it would happen, hadn’t even thought about it when he dove in front of the lizalfos, just acted. But he knew exactly what it was. Who it was.

Time’s face softened and he squeezed Wild’s hand. “Well I’m looking forward to you being able to explain, but for now let’s just get you comfortable. Okay?”

Wild mewled as Time began to pull out and set up his bedroll and myriad blankets next to him. Wild shuffled as Twi helped him to sit up, scratching at his scars. They itched like hell, and he had never been more relieved at how easy it was to unclasp his prosthetic and dump it on the ground beside him. Ah, sweet relief.

He let Twilight help him into his newly made up bed and happily collapsed into it, barely able to draw up the energy to knead with his free hand. Twi curled up beside him, unwilling and unable to leave him alone after the day they both had had. As they settled down, Wind came trotting back over with a cup of water and wide, anxious eyes.

Wild sipped at the drink and then seeing that Wind was still shifting nervously from foot to foot, held out an arm in invitation. Well. He tried. It was his right arm, which he had recently discarded, so he was actually just wiggling his stump. Still, Wind understood the invitation and immediately dove in beside him.

“I’m really glad you’re not dead.” he whispered, and both Time and Twilight snorted.

“I think we can all agree on that one.” Time replied. “Get some sleep, Wild. Boys, go easy on him, yeah? Hyrule wouldn’t appreciate you wearing him out. Nor would Wild, i’m sure, for that matter.”

Wild chuffed and burrowed down into his blankets. Wind curled in tighter, curling his legs around his brother’s. Wild wanted nothing more than to sleep, to get some rest, but there was one last thing to do.

He rumbled and leaned into twilight, nuzzling at his hair.

Brother he was saying brother. Okay. safe. Brother.

Twilight sniffed and looked up at him, smiling. He gently butted back. Idiot brother. Scared! Sad! He burrowed in closer, digging his hands into his fur.

Wild rumbled and pulled him in. Safe brother safe. Safe nowSafe. Twilight repeated, safe. Brother. Family. Safe.

#it me #replies #hero’s aspect au #hero's aspect #linked universe fic #linked universe fanfic #my writing

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