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ashtrayfloors · 8 days

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Confessions: My Father, Hummingbirds, and Frantz Fanon

Every effort is made to bring the colonised person to admit the inferiority of his culture... —Frantz Fanon

And there are days when storms hover Over my house, their brooding just this side of rage, An open hand about to slap a face. You won't believe me

When I tell you it is not personal. It isn't. It only feels That way because the face is yours. So what if it is the only Face you've got? Listen, a storm will grab the first thing In its path, a Persian cat, a sixth grade boy on his way home From school, an old woman watering her roses, a black Man running down a street (late to a dinner with his wife), A white guy buying cigarettes at the corner store. A storm Will grab a young woman trying to escape her boyfriend, A garbage can, a Mexican busboy with no papers, you. We are all collateral damage for someone's beautiful Ideology, all of us inanimate in the face of the onslaught. My father had the biggest hands I've ever seen. He never Wore a wedding ring. Somehow, it would have looked lost, Misplaced on his thick worker's hands that were, to me, As large as Africa. There have been a good many storms In Africa over the centuries. One was called colonialism (Though I confess to loving Tarzan as a boy).

In my thirties, I read a book by Frantz Fanon. I fell in love With the storms in his book even though they broke My heart and made me want to scream. What good Is screaming? Even a bad actress in a horror flick Can do that. In my twenties, I had fallen in love With the storms in the essays of James Baldwin. They were like perfect poems. His friends called Him Jimmy. People didn't think he was beautiful. Oh God, but he was. He could make a hand that was Slapping you into something that was loving, loving you. He could make rage sound elegant. Have you ever Read "Stranger in the Village?" How would you like To feel like a fucking storm every time someone looked At you?

One time I was At a party. Some guy asked me: What are you, anyway? I downed my beer. Mexican I said. Really he said, Do You play soccer? No I said but I drink Tequila. He smiled At me, That's cool. I smiled back So what are you? What do you think I am he said. An asshole I said. People Hate you when you're right. Especially if you're Mexican. And every time I leave town, I pray that people will stop Repeating You're from El Paso with that same tone Of voice they use when they see a rat running across Their living rooms, interrupting their second glass Of scotch. My father's dead (Though sometimes I wake And swear he has never been more alive—especially when I see him staring back at me as I shave in the morning). Even though I understand something about hating a man I have never really understood the logic of slavery. What do I know? I don't particularly like the idea of cheap Labor. I don't like guns. And I don't even believe White men are superior. Do you? I wanted to be St. Francis. I took this ambition very seriously. Instead I wound up becoming a middle-aged man who dreams Storms where all the animals wind up dead. It scares Me to think I have this dream inside me. Still, I love dogs—even mean ones. I could forgive A dog that bit me. But if a man bit me, that would be Another story. I have made my peace with cats. I am especially in love with hummingbirds (though They're as mean as roosters in a cock fight). Have You ever seen the storms in the eyes of men who Were betting on a cock fight?

Last night, there was hail, thunder, A tornado touching down in the desert—though I was Away and was not a first hand witness. I was in another Place, listening to the waves of the ocean crash against The shore. Sometimes I think the sea is angry. Who Can blame it? There are a million things to be angry About. Have you noticed that some people don't give A damn and just keep on shopping? Doesn't that make you Angry? A storm is like God. You don't have to see it To believe—sometimes you just have to place Your faith in it. When my father walked into a room It felt like that. Like the crashing waves. You know, Like a storm. This is the truth of the matter: I am The son of a storm. Look, every one has to be the son Of something. The thing to do when you are caught In the middle of a storm is to abandon your car, Keep quiet. Pray. Wait. Tell that to the men Who were sleeping on the Arizona when The Japanese dropped their bombs. War is the worst Kind of storm. The truth is I have never met a breathing Human being who did not have at least one scar On his body. Bombs and bullets do more than leave A permanent mark on the skin. I have never liked The expression they were out for blood.

There are days When there are so many storms hovering around My house that I cannot even see the blue in the sky. My father loved the sky. He was trying to memorize The clouds before he died. I confess to being Jealous of the sky.

On Sunday Mornings I picture Frantz Fanon as an old man. He is looking up At the pure African sky. He is trying to imagine how it appeared Before the white men came. I don't want to dream all the dead Animals we have made extinct. I want to dream a sky Full of hummingbirds. I would like to die in such a storm.

—Benjamin Alire Sáenz (x)

#poetry #benjamin alire sáenz #recently read #family #lineage #beauty #this fucking poem

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riisinaakka-draws · 2 years

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“Oh, I remember you.”

Still thinking about that Vanity Fair photoshoot and all the possible Black Sails lighthouse AUs where Flint is the lighthouse keeper... and gets a visitor(s). But who? dundunduuu... Not sure if this would be a reincarnation au or immortal beings au or ghosts or just a regular modern(ish) au, so feel free to have your own interpretations!

The face ref for this was Lieutenant McGraw when he returns to London in season 2 but I wanted to see Flint with his waxed s1 mustache and the more modern hair and coat (although the decade is not set in stone)... Please, do not repost elsewhere :)

#black sails #black sails au #captain flint #I just really like drawing people looking at things asdfghjk x)#either gazing at people or into the distance u know #and glaring too #I also tried to make his expression a bit vague #like is he pissed off? heart-broken? relieved?#Monsieur Flint's Scowl if you will #also I didn't want to focus on the bg and draw more of it although I did end up spending wayyyy too much time with it lol #adding textures saved a lot lmao #although now I'm not sure if it's TOO much #but I really like the outcome #also I have no idea how it truly looks like because I think my monitor's settings are still wrong asdfghjk #hehe evil twirly mustache because I wanted him to have some fun while tending the lonesome lighthouse #so waxed whiskers it is #gotta look the part u know #and scare the people away so he can brood in peace and read some books #UNTIL #dundunduuuu

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i-write-boop-spoops · 3 years

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N Harmonia and his S/O living together headcanons

I love this request! Honestly, anything regarding wholesome domestic life is what I live for! Thanks anon!

I must confess I’m not too familiar with Unova, so I’m a bit vague about where the home is 👀

Enjoy!

After a few years of travelling the world together

First as friends, then as romantic partners

You mutually decided to settle down

Surprisingly, N was the one to suggest it

He was never the typical boyfriend

Not really aware of how relationships usually progressed

But during your journey

You met many happy couples and cute families

Thusly, he developed a liking for a more domestic life

And as much as he loved travelling

He also wanted to experience a somewhat normal life

Something he’d never been privy to before

You gladly took him up on his offer

As soon as you returned to Unova, you picked out a little home together

A small, but modern house with a large garden

It’s far enough away from the nearby town, that it’s pretty secluded and quiet

But close enough that you could walk there fairly easily

You both adore it!

The décor is very clean, crisp

Lots of wooden furniture and metal furnishings

Plenty of plants too!

You have many shelves for books, pictures, knick-knacks and puzzles

Your home doubles as a mini Pokemon sanctuary

N leaves out extra food for wild pokemon, to make sure they’re fed well

Whenever either of you come across an injured pokemon near your home

You nurse them back to health

A lot of them tend to stick around

Neither of you mind

In fact, you consider every new member to your brood a blessing

N loves sleeping next to you

Holding you

Or being held

And waking up to your sweet face

Sure, he had seen that a lot throughout your journey

But it hits different, now that you live together

Naturally, he also wakes up to a few clingy pokemon too

They’re almost as cute as you

Almost

You take turns cooking

He’s pretty okay at it

His sisters taught him a couple recipes

They’re simple but good

I’d say N is probably vegetarian

If not vegan

So your diet would become very plant-based, if it wasn’t already

Your house is pretty clean

If you ignore all the fur, green hair and hair-ties littered about the place

Your poor vacuum cleaner is very overworked

The true MVP

When it comes to budgeting/taxes

N’s your guy

He’s literally a maths genius

Everything is accounted for, no mistakes are made

Plus, he ensures you have enough money to feed all your mons!

He loves going grocery shopping with you

It’s such a simple, mundane activity but it just fills him with so much joy

He tends to wander off

Usually looking for food/toys for your pokemon

Or something he’d think you might like

Though, he is also the trolley (shopping cart) king

Likes to have a baby pokemon in the child-seat part of it

Some people think you two are weird for it

But your little Sewaddle is much better behaved than the screaming, sticky RotomPad toddler two aisles over

And cuter, you’d argue

You’ve set up a couple raised beds in your garden

To grow some berries

For yourselves

But mostly for your Pokemon

You often get raided by a cheeky Emolga or two

Even your Ghetsis-themed scarecrow can’t scare them off

But you’re both too soft to really do too much about it

Especially since they don’t take a lot

Both your bedroom and kitchen have glass doors that lead to the backyard

N likes the easy access to the outside

And all the light

On rainy days he likes to pull up a big chair by the door

With a book in his hand

A Pokemon on his lap

You by his side

And read

Utterly at peace

Despite your small house, it can get so busy with all your Pokemon

You wouldn’t change it for the world, though

#n harmonia #n harmonia x reader #natural harmonia gropius #natural harmonia gropius x reader #n harmonia headcanons #natural harmonia gropius headcanons #request #fluff

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toomanystoriessolittletime · 3 years

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Second chance

Summary: 7 months passed since Dave found out the woman he loved didn't die. Would she ever remember him?

Pairing: Dave York x OFC (can be read as reader insert)

Wordcount: 2.4k

Warnings: amnesia, f e e l i n g s, angst

A/N: I tried myself on another part of this. I hope you like it.

Part one: two lives

Masterlist

*Taglist in Reblog

Dave York wasn’t someone who believed in second chances. It came with the line of work he was doing. Had been doing. Sighing, he looked at the small house in front of him. He had been sitting in his car for almost 15 minutes, his heart too heavy to open the door, get out of the car and walk over to the door where she would be, still not remembering any moment they had shared.

It was Lissy’s third birthday.

Of course he was invited, the paternity test had confirmed that shortly after their run in at the park. And even though she couldn’t remember him, she would never deny Lissy having a father in her life. Many things had changed in the 7 months since the park.

Dave had quit his job, having made enough money to last three lifetimes. She had moved to town, so Dave would be able to build a relationship with his daughter. Lissy was the sweetest little girl, warming up to him within weeks. The first time she called him Daddy would be something he would forever remember.

They were in the park, him, Lissy and her mother, after having lunch and there were three pigeons chasing Lissy.

“Save me Daddddyyyyyy,” she had cried, jumping into his arms. He had laughed, hugged her close to save her from the pigeons, hiding the emotions behind his mask.

But she was getting better at reading him.

While Lissy was well on her way to being a Daddy's girl it was her mother that seemed to have a hard time letting Dave in. Of course, in a perfect world she would have remembered their whole life together before the accident in the moment in the park. But they weren’t living in a perfect world. And she definitely didn’t remember anything about him. It was hard, looking at the woman he still loved and seeing that she didn’t feel the same way. He had sent Carol a huge bouquet of flowers a month after the park with an apology for not having been a better husband in the past.

It was hard for Dave. Especially when he noticed patterns in her behavior that were just so much her.

She still couldn’t cook, but she tried.

“I do have a mouth more to feed, so I was thinking about taking some cooking classes,” she had said in one of their sessions. Oh yeah. They were going to therapy together every week. Dave thought it would help her remember, but in the end, after 6 months of nothing, he was questioning why he was going.

Because you love her, he thought to himself.

Today would be hard. Not only because of the birthday but because she wanted to introduce Dave to the man she had been dating for a month now. It truly was over and he somehow had to make his peace with it. At least he had Lissy to look forward to.

“Hey Dave,” she smiled as she opened the door. He smiled back, his smile not reaching his eyes. She noticed this happened more often in the last weeks.

“Hi. Am I late?”

“No. Just in time. We’re gonna cut the cake in a couple of minutes,” she stepped to the side, letting the man in. Spending time with Dave was making her feel so confused every time, yet she found herself wanting to see him more lately. Getting used to finding out so many things about her past has been overwhelming to say the least. She could see the longing in his eyes every time he looked at her in the beginning. Yet lately he seemed to shut himself off, wearing a mask to hide behind. She couldn’t blame him. If they really loved each other like he explained to her in therapy, she would die a thousand deaths spending time with him, when it was him who couldn’t remember her.

“I hope she likes her present,” Dave said, shrugging his coat off.

“She’s gonna love it. You could gift her some old socks, and she would love them,” she smiled and Dave smiled back.

“I can’t stay long, but I would love to take her this weekend,” Dave said.

“The whole weekend?” she asked. She had never spent more than a day parted from her since she was born. Dave sighed.

“We can talk about it later…”

“No, help me get out the cake and we can talk,” she said walking through the house with him following her. He could hear music from the living room and laughter and he had to smile. At least his daughter was happy with her friends.

“Talk,” she said and he sighed.

“I can’t do this anymore. I want to spend time with Lissy but I need a break…” he shook his head and she turned around.

“You need a break from me?” she asked quietly without judgment. She knew she was hurting him. And she wanted everything but to hurt the man in front of her. She could see why she fell in love with him. The old her. He was a strong and passionate man who always put his family first. There was something dangerous in his eyes that seemed to make her pulse quicken every time he let it spark through. He knew how she drank her coffee and he always warmed her hands, that seemed to be always cold, stating that they had always been like that. She spent nights awake in her big and lonely bed, trying to make herself remember him. She wanted nothing more than that. To give her and him a happily ever after but she just couldn’t. And it was starting to hurt them both.

“I don’t want to I just… If we wanna do this, co-parenting, I need to find a way to live with the feelings I still have for you. And I think for that it’s best if we take a little break.”

She only nodded, sucking her bottom lip in. Why was this hurting her so much?

“You’re dating and you deserve to be happy, but so do I,” he added stepping closer towards her.

“I know,” she whispered, crossing her arm as if she was hugging herself.

“I wish I could just flip a switch and everything would be like back then…”

“I’m not dating, I only told you that in hopes that this would make you move on,” she confessed and Dave took a deep breath, ignoring the wave of relief that flooded through his body.

“Will you let me take you out to dinner?” he asked.

“Like on a date?” she asked.

“It doesn’t have to be, but yeah. Like on a date.”

He was almost as touching her now, his chest against hers.

“But you said you wanted a break,” she whispered.

“It’s a break so I can fall out of love with you, or a date so you can start to fall back in love with me,” he said quietly and she found herself smiling softly.

“I’m not the same person you fell in love with, Dave. I may look like her on the outside, but….”

“I know. Just let me have one night. I’ll cook for you and we can talk. Without a therapist or Lissy around. Just us,” he smiled hopeful, his hand coming up to put a stray of hair behind her ear.

“Okay.”

She had never been to Dave’s apartment before. She knew that he was still living in the same place she used to live with him. She didn’t want to imagine the amount of heartbreak he went through ever since she disappeared. She still didn’t know the whole story about them. She only knew that they both met because they both had worked at the CIA. And she wanted to get answers today. There were some pieces of the puzzle that were her past, that didn’t make any sense to her. Maybe this was the reason she just couldn’t remember a thing.

She smelled something delicious as she made her way up the stairs, knocking on the apartment door. She was nervous. In all the time knowing each other since the park they never spend time alone.

The door flew open and she smiled seeing him barefoot, wearing jeans and a shirt.

“Hey,” he smiled, stepping to the side so she could walk in. She couldn’t stop letting her eyes wander through the big room that seemed to be hallway, dining room, living room and kitchen all at once. It seemed familiar. Dave only watched her as she slowly walked in, her fingers brushing over a bookshelf that held her books.

She jumped when she felt something rub over her feet, followed by a meow. A cat was sniffing at her feet, rubbing her soft body at her calves.

“That’s kitty. She’s… She’s your cat,” Dave explained. She looked at him with big eyes.

“I had a cat?” she leaned down to pick her up, a calmness washing over her, as the cat purred against her chest.

“You found her outside as a kitten and took her in. She’s a little over 6 years old now.”

“She’s a sweetheart,” she smiled, not letting go of the cat as she followed Dave.

“Yeah she grew on me after…” he shook his head, smiling softly before he turned from her.

“I hope you still like my paella. You used to love it,” he said.

“I love paella,” she said with a smile, leaning with her hand propped up on her hands on the kitchen island.

“It smells delicious. I can’t wait to taste it.”

“Wine?” he asked and she nodded. She watched him as he opened the bottle of wine and couldn’t help but let her eyes wander up his strong arms. When she looked into his eyes he just winked at her and she felt herself blush.

“Hungry?” he asked, handing her the glass of wine.

“Starving!” she answered.

“So we met at the CIA but I hated you at first?”

“I am a pretty big asshole to most people.”

“Must be your face. When you have this brooding look you look like you’re plotting murder,” she joked a while later, sitting on the sofa across from him. Kitty hadn’t left her side the whole evening. She was now sleeping peacefully in her leap.

Dave sighed.

“You wanted the truth. How we met. How we fell in love. How… How I thought you died and left…” he choked on his words, looking away from her. This would be hard.

“Dave… Did we kill people?” she asked out of the blue. Dave turned his head to look at her for a long time.

“Yes. Yes we did. And we were the best at it,” he added. She sucked her bottom lip in, nodding slowly. And so he told her. Every little thing. About the death of McCall and about how they took jobs outside the CIA making a name for themselves. He answered every single question she had.

“I should be scared of you and of the person I was but looking at you…” she breathed in deep, shaking her head.

“I feel safe with you. Like I’m finally where I’m supposed to be. I can’t describe it. I can see why I fell in love with you,” she smiled a little.

“This is a lot to take in. I had my suspicions about my past. There are pieces of things I remember but it’s not enough to understand them. And at this point I’m not sure if I want to remember. Though I have so many things to be thankful for from my old life…”

“Such as?” Dave asked.

“Meeting you? I wouldn’t have Lissy if it weren’t for you,” she whispered and Dave felt himself smile at her.

“I didn’t know you were pregnant. I wouldn’t have taken the job for us if I had known… I’m so sorry,” he closed his eyes, letting his head fall down. Her heart broke. Yes, she was the one who experienced the memory loss but he had all the memories. Carefully she pulled Kitty off her lap and closed the distance between herself and Dave. Taking his hands in hers, she felt him shake.

“It’s not your fault. Do you think I would have listened to you? It’s not your fault Dave. You hear me?” she squeezed his hand and felt him shudder. He let his head fall against her shoulder and she gasped, letting go of his hands to hug him against her. He was shaking in her arms as he silently cried against her shoulder.

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t know I was pregnant back then. I wish I could remember. We would have been so happy,” she smiled, letting her head fall against his.

“You are such a good Dad. I wish you would have been there when Lissy was a baby. But you’re here now. And we’re not going anywhere,” she promised, her heart full. He had stopped shaking at some point, yet couldn’t bring himself to look at her. He never wanted to let go. He felt her kiss his temple and he shuddered again. One of her hands pushed under his chin tilting his head up so he had to look at her.

“I may not remember being in love with you, but I think I am falling in love with you,” she whispered looking into his eyes. Dave stopped breathing, trying to register the words that had just left her lips. He just looked at her, taking her in before he leaned in, closing the distance between them, to finally kiss her. She gasped against his lips, her arms wrapping around his neck as she melted against him. This. This is what felt right. She never wanted to let go.

Resting with his forehead against hers he smiled.

“Promise me to never leave me again without saying goodbye,” he whispered and she smiled back.

“Never,” she vowed kissing him again.

#my writing #dave york #Dave York x reader #Pedro pascal #fanfic #fanfiction #dave york fanfic

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active-galactic-nuclei · 4 years

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Rewrite Your Memories

Zuko x reader

warnings: none except like Zuko’s tragic backstory

Inspired by the lovely @zukochi who gifted me this wonderful prompt!!

You were looking for a roommate. You were broke, and you could hardly manage to pay the rent each month. As a college dropout, your career prospects weren’t looking too hot, and as a starving artist that didn’t seem like it would be changing anytime soon. So you put out an ad on craigslist. What’s the worst that could happen? If someone tried to murder you then at least you’d have a good story to tell at parties.

Zuko was looking for a house. Or an apartment. Or anywhere to stay that wasn’t the streets tonight. He had been kicked out of his dorm for “dangerous, unlawful and reckless activities.” Of course, he hadn’t meant to set his curtains on fire. It was just a mistake. They didn’t care much whether it was an accident or not. He was as good as gone as soon as his roommates walked through the door. He figured he’d just have to sleep in a crappy hotel for the night or god forbid he’d have to ask to stay with his uncle. Of course uncle Iroh would say yes, but his pride would never survive a blow like that. He was eighteen years old. He wanted to handle it by himself. He sat in his car and started searching for the places to stay.

Suddenly a message came through on your phone. An unknown number. You figured it would be just another spam text trying to sell you something, so you almost didn’t even bother reading it. Then you remembered the room listing. You’d only posted it two hours ago, surely that couldn’t be it, could it?

“Unknown number: I heard you’re renting out a room. When's the soonest I can move in?” it said. Laughing at the bluntness you quickly typed back.

“And just who are you?” you responded.

“My name’s Zuko. I need somewhere to stay asap,” he shot back quickly.

“Well if it’s really that urgent then you can come by whenever. I’m home for the rest of the day,” you offered, puzzled at his predicament.

“Perfect. I’ll be over with all my stuff soon,” he responded. Well that wasn’t weird at all, right? Maybe you would be getting murdered after all. The universe just loved to punish you.

An hour and 35 minutes later on the dot, a knock sounded at the door. Well, time to meet your new roommate (or as you supposed, murderer… or…. both?) Dragging yourself away from the couch, you meandered warily to the door. When you opened it you were expecting a terrifying thug, or maybe a creepy old hag, or any other person that your mind coupled with the word murderer. You certainly weren’t expecting a tall, dark, handsome, young man with brooding eyes and a scar taking up half his face. Well, maybe the scar was a little more on brand with what you were envisioning… but regardless, you were more than surprised.

“I’m Zuko, and you must be Y/N right?” he asked meekly. Wonderful, his voice was gorgeous too. You were starting to wonder if the universe was cursing you in a much different way now.

“Um yeah… That would be me,” you responded hesitantly. Why were you so awkward?

Now the universe really was cursing you.

“Great, I have my stuff with me so if you could, like, show me to my room that would be… wonderful,” he prompted. You had been so lost in his eyes you’d hardly even recognized what he’d said. You quickly snapped out of it, realizing what an idiot you looked like, and started walking toward the spare room.

“Sorry there's still some of my stuff in here. I’ll move it out by tomorrow, it's just that some of the paintings are still drying,” you told him. He started unpacking things from his suitcases and you decided to take the moment to sit down on the floor next to him.

“So uhh… What made you decide to move in with me so fast? I barely had the listing up for two hours,” you asked, trying not to push too hard and make him uncomfortable.

“It’s kind of a weird story,” he trailed off, “Are you sure you want me to tell it?”

“I’m the master of weird stories, Zuko. Trust me, you can tell me anything,” you answered.

“I’m um… kind of homeless I guess. I got kicked out of my dorm for uhh… setting my room on fire…” he confessed, looking embarrassed. He looked down, fearing your reaction. Would you be mad? Scared? Instead you surprised him by… laughing?

“I understand, I got kicked out of my last apartment for painting on the wall and ruining it. It was an accident, I just hadn’t realized I needed to put a tarp up. What about you? I mean… Did you mean to set the fire?” you asked.

“If I'm telling the truth then… yeah. I guess I did. It was just a spur of the moment thing. I was just so angry I started lighting stuff on fire. I didn’t mean for it to spread to the curtains or anything though. That part was really an accident. I just didn’t notice until it was too late,” he explained. You smiled sympathetically.

“I get it. I mean, everyone makes mistakes sometimes,” you told him. “So, what do you do for a living?” you asked, laying back and resting your head on his now empty backpack.

“I’m uhh… unemployed. I mean I’m a full time computer science student but my uncle pays for everything,” he told you.

“Your uncle pays for everything but you’re homeless? How does that work?” you asked playfully.

“I just didn’t want to bother him by asking to stay with him. I mean I know that he would say yes but… I just couldn’t do that to him after everything he’s done for me,” he sighed. “How about you, what do you do?”

“I work at a bookstore with some of my friends. I dropped out of college last semester. It just… wasn’t what I really wanted, you know? My passion is art. I just want to make the world brighter in that way,” you explained.

“I get it. I’m studying to work with artificial intelligence. I just want to help people. If I can do that with my life… i think everything will be worth it,” he told you.

“No way, my friend Toph is studying AI too! Have you ever met her?” you asked excitedly.

“Toph Beifong? Yeah of course I know her. She’s one of the smartest people in my engineering class. The way she works with metal to build stuff… I’ve never seen anything like it,” he said.

“That’s Toph for you. She’s always talking about the newest thing she’s built when we’re working together. It’s her and I, and three of our other friends at the bookstore. Katara’s studying business, Sokka’s studying communications, and Aang is working on philosophy. Don’t ask me what he’s gonna do with that degree once he graduates, but he seems pretty happy whenever he talks about it to us,” you told Zuko. He was listening intently, hanging on every word. It seemed like he really cared. Suddenly you realized that you were in way over your head with the mysterious man. The universe was just so cruel that way.

The next day Zuko was in class. He sat next to Toph, hoping to get to know her better. In all his time in class with her, he’d never really taken the time to talk to her. To his surprise, once he got past her sarcastic and calloused exterior she was sweeter than he’d imagined.

“Have you gotten the book we’re studying yet? The annotations are due by Sunday night,” Toph asked him.

“No I… haven’t even thought about it yet,” he confessed.

“You should get on it or else you won’t finish on time. Why don’t you go to Katara's Books? That's where I work. Just tell them Toph sent you and they’ll give you 25% off. I mean, not like you need it, rich kid… but still, you should get it there. The money goes to my friend Katara. She owns it and she’s doing everything she can to keep it running,” Toph explained.

‘Yeah, I'll be sure to stop by,” Zuko said, standing up to grab his things. Katara? That name sounded awfully familiar. Maybe he’d know where he’d heard it once he got there. Making his way across campus, he couldn’t get you out of his mind as he walked.

Walking into the store he looked around, quickly finding his way to the nonfiction shelf.

“Hey, I’m Aang! Do you need help finding anything today?” came a voice from behind making him jump. He wheeled around to see a little bald kid wearing what looked to him like monk robes. Aang… now that name seemed familiar too. He told the kid, Aang, what book he was looking for.

“Ah, I love that book! I love the part discussing the philosophy that metal is alive. It’s definitely great food for thought. It should be right… here!” he said, pulling the book off the shelf.

“Thanks for the help… Aang,” he said, trailing off. He walked up the counter, ready to pay when he caught sight of you. Ringing up the customer in front of him. Of course that’s where he’d heard those names from, you had told him about them last night. He studied your face carefully as you smiled and laughed at the woman buying a copy of The fault in Our Stars. You looked… beautiful. He scolded himself for being creepy. He knew better than to start being vulnerable for you.

“I can help the next guest in li- oh, Zuko! Hey!” you called out.

“Hey Y/N, how’s it going today?” he shoots back.

“It’s good. We’ve been kind of slow so that’s been nice. Oh, I love this book! Autobiography of a Yogi is really amazing. Aang told me about it after he studied it in class. I read it after that and I loved it! I think you’ll really enjoy it,” you told him. You were so adorable when you were excited. Zuko scolded himself again. He needed to get you out of his mind. As he paid and said goodbye though, it seemed an impossible task. A spark had caught in his heart, and he knew it would soon be a raging forest fire. Uncontrollable and insurmountable, too great to ever find his way out of. As he walked back to your shared apartment, he began to realize the thought didn’t scare him nearly as much as it should have.

Walking in the door and setting your keys down, you saw Zuko on the couch. As peaceful as he looked, you needed to ask him about dinner.

“Hey, are you hungry?” you asked, setting your bag on the counter.

“Yeah, are you making dinner?” he responded. He turned around to face you.

“I was hoping you’d help out but, yeah. All I have is macaroni and cheese, is that fine with you?” you asked.

“Yeah, I’ll get the stuff out for it,” he said, watching you put a pot of water on the stove to boil. He grabbed the milk and butter from the fridge, trying to put his anxiety to the back of his brain. He was a grown adult, it shouldn’t still scare him. He had zoned out and before he knew it, the pasta was done.

“Hey, move you dork. I need to pour this in the strainer you said. Seeing that he didn’t seem to notice you tried to move around him and pour it out anyway. Evidently, that did not go very well as you accidentally scalded his hand by pouring boiling hot water on it. He let out a yelp, sounding like a kicked puppy. Your heart sank.

“Oh my god Zuko I’m so sorry!” you apologized. You tried to grab his wrist to inspect the burn, but he snatched it away from you with a squeal and sank down against the refrigerator. You knelt down in front of him as he folded in on himself. You reached up to grab an ice pack from the freezer and handed it to him, noticing him start to cry. You sat next to him and tried to calm him down. He sounded like he was hyperventilating, which you didn’t take as a good sign. You knew a panic attack when you saw one, and this was most certainly one of them.

“Hey, calm down. It’s alright. You’re going to be okay, alright? Just breathe,” you reassured him softly. You rubbed his shoulder tenderly as you brought him back down to earth. It took a few minutes, but eventually he calmed down enough to speak.

“Hey, can you tell me what just happened, Zuko?” you asked softly, trying your best to sound reassuring.

“Panic attack… I just panicked… too much like the accident… too scary,” he blubbered almost incoherently.

“What accident? Can you tell me what happened to you Zuko?” you pushed, trying your hardest to stay gentle. Your heart broke when he spoke up.

“My dad… when I was little… my face… he poured boiling water on my face… that’s why I have my scar… It hurt so bad, Y/N, it just reminded me of it,” he explained. You were horrified, but even more than that you were angry that someone could do that to him. To such a sweet person. To a child.

“Is he in jail? Your dad?” you asked, pushing your voice to stay flat.

“He’s… he’s gone now. Thankfully. I don’t know what I’d do if I ever had to see him again.” Zuko explained, wiping his tears on his sleeve. “I’m sorry I freaked out, I didn’t mean to…”

“No, don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault. Not at all,” you told him, holding back tears of your own.

“So umm… you think the pasta’s still good?” he asked, a watery smile teasing on his lips.

“Fuck the pasta,” you told him. “We’ll just order out.”

“I’d like that... “ he trailed off.

“We’ll get whatever you want, my treat,” you said, watching his face.

“Can we go eat at my uncle’s shop? He makes great tea and we’ll probably be the only ones in there,” he asked.

“Of course we can,” you told him. You got up to grab your keys, not noticing how his eyes flickered over to you with longing as you turned around.

Stepping out of your car, you looked up at the sign for the Jasmine Dragon. A quiet little tea shop by the edge of campus, sitting alone next to two closed buildings. It was cute, you thought. You were surprised you’d never been before. You walked in behind Zuko, who instantly got called up to the counter by a man you could only assume to be his uncle. You spat out an order to him and he cheerfully wrote it down and handed it to the cooks. You couldn’t believe someone so sweet could be related to a family as awful as the one Zuko had described.

As the only ones in the shop, you got your food quickly. You eyed your soup appreciatively, thanking the server as he walked away.

“This colour is so pretty. I need to paint something with it sometime,” you told Zuko, gesturing to the soup.

“It reminds me of your eyes… they’re pretty too,” Zuko said, instantly kicking himself for it. You blushed as you looked up to see him looking at his food intensely, too embarrassed to look back at you.

“Thank you… You know, your eyes are pretty nice too,” you responded rather awkwardly. The universe’s vendetta for you knew no end.

As you got up to leave, Zuko stayed put.

“I’m gonna stay here to help Uncle close up shop. I’ll be home in an hour or so,” he explained. He watched you say goodbye and walk out, making your way to the car. He walked over to the counter, vaulting over it.

“Zuko! How’s my favourite nephew doing?” Iroh asked him, smiling as he finished drying off a glass.

“I’m… confused. I need help, Uncle,” Zuko responded.

“It’s about that Y?N, your new roommate, isn’t it?” Zuko nodded, “I knew it. I’m always so good at reading you, Zuko.” Zuko sighed.

“I think I really like her, but I don’t know what to do. What if she thinks I’m weird or something. I don’t want to ruin us as friends,” Zuko confessed.

“You’ve got to do what makes you happy, Zuko. If she makes you happy, tell her. If she’s really your friend she’ll understand,” Iroh told him, pulling him into a knowing hug. Zuko let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding as he sank into it. Everything always had to be so complicated.

At home, your mind raced with thoughts of Zuko. Calling your friends, you sighed as everyone picked up.

“What am I supposed to do about Zuko?” you asked dramatically.

“You could always just kill him,” Toph offered, earning a laugh from everyone else.

“I’m serious. He's literally… perfect. I think I’m in love with him or something,” you said to her.

“Let me get this straight: you let him move into your apartment without even knowing him, he tells you he burnt down his dorm room, and now you’re in love with him? Maybe I’m just spoiled by being in love with the nicest person ever but that sounds kind of fucked up,” Katara told you.

“Ok first of all, yes you are spoiled by being in love with Aang, but second of all yes. I know I’m an idiot but I can’t help it. You’d only understand if you were in my shoes,” you responded.

“I think you should just do it. I mean, what's the worst that could happen? He says no?” Aang said.

“No Aang, the worst he could do is be totally creeped out and move out and I never see him again,” you spat out frustratedly.

“If that happens, I’ll yell at him in engineering for you,” Toph offered.

‘Thanks Toph, but I doubt it’ll come to that. I’ll probably just suffer dramatically until the end of time,” you lamented flopping down onto the couch to agonize about life.

When Zuko walked in, he was surprised to find you on the couch. He walked up to the sink and dumped the forgotten macaroni in the trash and rinsed out the pot. Drying his hands on his jeans, he walked over to where you were sleeping. He debated for a second before picking you up and carrying you back to your room. He set you down in bed and turned off the lights in the hallway. He took note of the stacked canvases in the corner, and saw the painting still drying on top. A boy with half of his face obscured by a deep red scar stared back at him. It couldn’t be meant to be him, could it? Surely he wasn’t that beautiful in your eyes, was he?

Waking up the next morning you were confused. You had fallen asleep on the couch talking to Katara. Why were you in your bedroom? Had…. had Zuko brought you in here last night when he came home? Your heart sped up at the thought. He must have, right? As you got dressed and walked into the empty living room, you couldn’t get the thought out of your head. Zuko was already long gone, the crazy morning person that he was. It was your day off, and you knew it was Sokka’s too, so you decided to call him.

“Hey, do you wanna go get coffee or something today?” you asked him when he picked up the phone.

“Of course, dork. Meet me at the coffee house by the campus library in half an hour,” he responded. You smiled as you hung up the phone and went to go get ready.

Half an hour later and you were walking into the coffee house to see Sokka sitting at a table in the corner. You sat down across from him to see your favourite drink already sitting in front of you. Taking a sip, Sokka piped up.

“So about this Zuko character, I know you really like him. Tell me more about him,” he told you, punctuating the sentence with a smile that you couldn’t resist.

“He’s so gorgeous, Sokka. Plus, he’s the sweetest guy I’ve ever met. Aside from you and Aang. But seriously, he’s amazing. I painted a picture of him last night while I was on the phone and it was just Katara. He has the most paintable face. I just want to get lost in it,” you rambled on. He was starting to overtake your mind, you couldn’t get him out of your brain.

“Look, I’m just saying. If he’s that great, you should just tell him you feel. If anything else, you know I’ll kill him if he breaks your heart,” offered Sokka.

“Good luck,” you laughed, “He’s been training in Tae Kwon Do since he was a baby,” you replied. Sokka groaned, smirking as you laughed at him. You took a sip from your coffee mug. Things were always so complicated.

Walking back into the apartment, you saw all the lights were turned off. That was… strange. Zuko should have been home by now. Maybe he was sleeping? You walked with light footsteps down the hall, making your way towards Zuko’s room. Seeing his door cracked open, you decided to go in and check on him. You found him sitting in the dark, holding a lighter. A little silver Zippo he was using to pass over the ends of his fingertips, and holding to his palm. He looked lost in thought as he watched the flames dance across his skin.

“Zuko… are you ok?” he whispered trying not to disturb him too much. He flinched and dropped the lighter onto the carpet, wheeling around to face you.

“You scared me, I didn’t even hear you come in,” he told you.

“Sorry I just… didn’t want to make too much noise in case you were sleeping or something. Anyway, what were you doing?” you asked.

“Oh I was just messing with my lighter. You know, typical pyromaniac behavior,” he smirked.

“I knew you were an amateur arsonist, but I didn't peg you as the masochist type,” you giggled.

“It’s just in my blood I guess. I’ve always been fascinated by fire as long as I can remember. So was my sister, and my parents, and my cousin. My uncle is too. I guess that’s just how it goes with us,” he revealed.

“I didn’t know you had a sister. I’m assuming she uhh… wasn’t the best?” you said knowingly.

“She was sick in the head. It wasn’t her fault. An upbringing like we had would make anyone crazy. She’s in a mental hospital now. I still visit her sometimes but… not as much as I used to. It’s just hard to see her like that. It just reminds me too much of my mom,” he confessed.

“Is that… bad?” you asked, trying hard not to sound rude.

“I loved my mom, she was the best part of my life when she was in it. After my dad disowned me and kicked her out though… it’s just too hard to think about…” he trailed off, his voice cracking with a sob at the end.

“I’m so sorry, Zuko. I can’t imagine how you feel,” you responded, pulling him into your chest as his body shook with sobs. You held him as he let out strangled sobs, and you stayed like that until his breathing evened out.

“We’re gonna get through this. We can rewrite your memories together,” you told him.

The next morning as you clocked into work, you couldn’t stop thinking about the night before. The way he’d been so vulnerable with you. You had grown so fond. It was impossible to stop your heart from racing every time you thought about him. Walking over to where everyone else stood sorting through books, you sighed.

“I need to do something about Zuko. I can’t keep thinking about him like this. It’s all I can think about,” you said, punctuated with a groan.

“Ok well, your only options are to either tell him or die miserable and alone. I don’t know about you, but I would take the first option,” Sokka told you, turning around to face you.

“Seriously. I know Toph isn’t here but I’m sure she’d agree: we all want you to be happy. The only way that’ll happen is if you just tell him how you feel,” Katara remarked.

“I guess you’re right. But what if he thinks I’m creepy or something?” you asked self consciously.

“Y/N, you’re gorgeous. Zuko would be lucky to have someone like you. Trust me, if he says no he’s delusional,” Katara responded.

“I think I’ll tell him tonight and get it over with,” you stated.

“Finally! I’m sure it’ll go well,” Aang told you, smiling from behind the book he was occupied with.

Zuko couldn’t believe he’d been so stupid to be so vulnerable with you last night. Once was more than enough, but twice? You had such an effect on him. It was like he could really be himself around you. It was the first time he’d ever felt that way, and he knew he’d have to capitalize on it. He knew he had to tell you how he felt. He sat down next to Toph, as had become his routine in class everyday.

“Toph, I need to ask you something,” he said, setting down his backpack.

“If you’re going to ask me on a date, just know that I’d rather kiss Momo,” she said, motioning to the dopey eyed guide dog that sat at her feet.

“No, it’s about Y/N. It's just… they make me feel so different. I’ve never felt the way I feel about them,” Zuko confessed.

“Happiness. You’re describing happiness,” Toph replied sarcastically.

“Yeah, I guess I am. I guess what i'm asking is… would you be alright with me asking her out?” he asked.

“Of course, idiot. As long as you don’t break her heart. Then I’ll have no choice but to kill you,” Toph said, raising her eyebrow. Zuko shuddered. If there was anyone he was truly scared of, it was Toph Beifong.

Sitting on the couch, you turned your head at the sound of a key turning in the door. You smiled inwardly when you saw Zuko’s face emerge from the door frame.

“How was class?” you asked him.

“It was… good,” he responded, walking over to you, “I uhh… really need to tell you something,” he said meekly.

“What’s up?” you asked as he sat down on the couch next to you.

“I just… you’re the first person that’s made me feel loved in so long. You’re always so happy to see me, and you always know just what to say, and you’re so gorgeous, and you have the most beautiful laugh and… I guess what I’m trying to say is… I really really like you, Y/N,” he confessed. He had no idea what to expect but he certainly hadn’t expected you to… laugh?

‘I know, Zuko,” you giggled, cutting him off with a kiss. He was taken aback, but he relaxed into it before you pulled away, keeping your hand on his cheek.

“How did you know?” he asked, breathless.

“You think Toph can keep a secret? Of course she told me,” you smiled.

“Of course she did,” he laughed, pulling you in for another kiss, “So, can I call us official?” he asked.

“Of course, my love,” you told him, sinking into his arms.

#zuko x reader #fire lord zuko #zuko x you #zuko x y/n #avatar: tla #avatar the last airbender #toph #sokka of the southern water tribe #sokka #avatar aang #avatar alternate universe #atla aang #aang the last airbender #fanfic #x reader

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bluefirewrites · 3 years

Text

Sky High Mall!AU

Hey, this is an excerpt of something I started for Sky High a while ago but never got around to finishing. I’ve been thinking about this particular work because I might rework it for Julie and the Phantoms one day because it has so much potential. Thought it would be cool to share.

So this is an AU where the kids don’t have powers and they all work at the Sky Shopping Center. It’s a Zach/ Magenta centered story with side Warren/Layla.

It would be Rated T and there is use of language in here. Enjoy!

Magenta didn’t hate her job. But she could admit that it gets pretty tedious at times.

She really shouldn’t complain. It was a huge step up from working at the pet store. At least, here she didn’t have to clean up after guinea pigs and trying to stop kids from eating dog treats.

But it was a summer afternoon and here she was rearranging the wacky greeting cards at the mall book shop when she would rather be at home, maybe catch whatever’s on TV- really anything to keep her mind off of a certain someone...

“Why the long face, Maj?” The purple haired girl snapped out of whatever daze she was in when all of the sudden her best friend, Layla, bounced into the shop, donning her signature pigtails and wide smile.

“Did you scare a customer again?”

“No,” Magenta scrunched her face, taking the excess cards in the box and moving it to the register, “Why does that happen often anyway?”

Layla trailed behind her, maneuvering through the shelves and a couple of customers, “Maybe it’s because you just creep up behind them before you ask if they needed help.”

“Oh good, I thought it’s because I dress like this,” She gestured to her combat boots, ripped stockings, and well of course her half-dyed hair. Magenta knew her outfit didn’t scream, ‘Customer Service’, but she was always down to help a customer find a book. She had pretty much devoured half the books in there, and had reccs from her fellow book-nik friends in case she encountered the other half.

“You’re lucky though. At least, you’re not forced to wear a uniform,” Layla worked at this organic juice bar in the mall food court so of course they would have made her wear something to prepare whatever smoothies they make. The redhead did a little twirl to show off her all green attire, from the shirt, to the pants, and even her blueberry-stained apron tied at her waist.

“But you look so cute,” Magenta tilted her head and pinched her friend’s cheeks, “Like happy broccoli.”

Layla gently brushed away her hand, pouting, “If I wanted to be patronized, I should have stayed at school. But come on, I’m off now. I just wanted to see when you’re on break,”

“Got another hour,” Magenta normally would have been off by now, but she ended up taking the evening shift this week. She wanted to change it up, for reasons that may or may involve avoiding someone who she knew worked the mornings.

“I’ll wait,” Layla leaned against the counter for a second before jumping up, eyes wide, “Oh, did it come in yet?”

Layla was referring to a gardening book that she had put in a request for some weeks ago. That girl had a green thumb through and through. Ever since they were younger, Magenta had the pleasure of sharing her strawberries that her family had grown in their backyard garden. Always the freshest, sweetest thing she had ever tasted and Magenta refused to eat any other strawberry to this day.

“Oh yeah. I think Warren got them in this morning,” She threw her head back to yell at her coworker who was stationed on the opposite side of the register, “Yo, Peace?”

If Magenta scared the customers, then Warren Peace straight up terrified them. The older guy was somehow wearing a long sleeve red shirt, slashed at the elbows, and leather, fingerless gloves on this June afternoon and seemed to glower over at everyone who would dare interrupt him from his latest reading.

At least, Magenta would smile at the patrons and actively tried to assist them. He mainly stayed behind the counter and rang people up and would occasionally restock the shelves that were a little too high for either Magenta or their manager, Jeannie, to reach.

She liked working with Warren. He knew just as much about books as her and it was fun to go on and on about their favorite authors, which of the classics were just over-glorified insights of the white man’s mind- stuff like that. Also, she was pretty sure that Warren had her beat with snarky remarks and could keep up with her sick sense of humor.

The long haired dude looked up from the book he was reading, eyes squinting at the two girls. “Purple. Hippie,” he addressed, annoyed to be ripped away from George Orwell.

Layla waved, dismissing his souriness, “Where’s the stuff from this morning?” Magenta asked.

“In the back. Where it’s supposed to be,”

Magenta pursed her lips, “Oh sorry, I mean, can you be a doll and get it for us?”

“No,”

Layla leaned over to rest her chin on the counter, “Please, Warren?” she batted her eyelashes for good measure.

Warren looked into her brown eyes and Magenta knew it was over. The boy growled before uttering out a “Fine!”, slamming his book on the table and stalking off to the back room.

Magenta whistled, impressed, “How do you do that?”

“What?”

“Get him to do stuff,” This hadn’t been the first time Warren did something un-Warren like for Layla’s sake. Magenta could count with one hand how many times Warren would actually do what was asked of him, and most of those times involved Layla in some way.

“I ask nicely. You should try it,”

“I didn’t think Hothead over there responds to nice,” Magenta noted a customer waiting to pay for their books and hopped over the counter to reach the register,

“...Has a stick so far up his butt that if you’d lip lock with him, you’ll get splinters,” she winked in Layla’s direction, “And I’m pretty sure you wanna do that regardless,”

Her friend flushed instantly at the insinuation, “Shut up.”

“Make me, Broccoli,”

She took the books from the customer and began ringing them up. The man looked to be a regular so she knew he was used to her weird antics around the store. Magenta thought for sure the stick up the ass comment would have repulsed any other old man. He merely chuckled at their interaction.

Magenta was beginning to catch on that Layla was crushing on her coworker, but figured that what was stopping her from pursuing it had been the fact that Warren is friends with her ex, Will. Her and Will were on good terms, of course, having known each other longer than Magenta had known Layla. But like, Bro Code and everything- she didn’t want to make it weird.

“Okay, someone has a bit of an attitude today. Something’s up,”

“Have a nice day” Magenta bid the customer a goodbye and handed him his bag of books before turning to Layla, “and no, I’m fine.” She shut the drawer till harder than intended which earned a side eye from the red head.

Warren emerged from the back room with a big book, sliding it over to Layla on the counter, “Here you go, Hippie. One, Gaia's Garden: A Guide to Home-Scale Permaculture, 2nd Edition.”

“Thank you so much,” Layla sent a grateful expression his way and Magenta swore that the brooding boy’s lips almost quirked into a small smile… like a real one.

Layla pulled out her wallet and handed the money over to Magenta, rattling off ecstatically about this book she was dying to get, “Been trying to get a hold of this forever. Trying to do a more polyculture type of gardening because I learned it would soon develop an environment where there’s no need for pesticides,” she glanced at Magenta, “You know how I feel about pesticides.” At which, the purple-haired girl nodded.

“I heard the whole, line by line, neat way of laying down crops is just Euro-centric, colonizer bullshit anyway,” Warren remarked which made Magenta raise an eyebrow.

“Since when do you know shit about gardening?”

Her co-worker waved her off. Layla appeared to be surprised and a bit impressed that Warren knew something about her field of interest, “Warren is right though. The whole polyculture gardening is much more sustainable and we do look to Indigenous cultures for that technique.”

Then, Magenta watched as her two friends were engaged in some sort of awkward stare-off, with one of them breaking the gaze to either tuck a hair back or just to switch between looking at the other or looking at the floor. It was cute.

It made her sick.

She groaned out loud, “Do you guys have to do that here?”

That brought them out of that, Warren hurried off to his side of the counter, back to his book and Layla turned to her friend, exasperated, “But seriously though, Maj- what’s up with you today?”

“Nothing,” she gave Layla her change and the receipt for the book, making a move to get away from the register.

“Maybe it’s because she just saw her ex walking around with a new girl,” Warren casually remarked as he turned a page.

Traitor!

Magenta whipped around to glare at him, but alas he was too preoccupied with Big Brother at the moment.

Layla’s eyes widened, mouth gaping, “No,” she turned to Warren, “Where?”

“Food Court,” he replied, sounding disinterested but Magenta knew he was taking some sick pleasure from this.

“Are they still there?”

“Jesus, Layla. I don’t know!” Magenta threw her hands up in the air.

Thankfully, the store was clear for now. They honestly didn’t get a lot of traffic around this time. She wouldn’t be too stoked for everyone in the store to know her relationship woes.

“I’m fine though. It’s no big deal.” she tried to assure Layla, but her friend was not having it.

She placed her hands on Magenta’s shoulders, “I know it’s been months, but you don’t have to be over it just yet. It’s gonna be hard seeing him with someone else, of course,”

“It’s not hard seeing him. Just annoying,”

“When Will and I had ended things, of course it was good and it was for the best, but like seeing him with his girlfriend was weird at first. But I got used to it,”

Magenta sighed, getting where Layla was coming from but it was different, “Yeah, but you and Will played out differently. Lash and I… we crashed and burned.”

She had dated Lash for a good while, like around 5 months. It had been the longest relationship she had been in, and it had started off so well. They had even met here at the mall when she had first started working at the book shop and he started at the skate shop.

They had a lot in common back then, never minding getting up to mischief and always doing spontaneous things with him. Things that she certainly was not proud of and had earned her a certain reputation at school.

But Magenta could admit that she had been a different person back then when she was with him. Someone she didn’t want to be again. But still, seeing him again after the breakup, with another girl still stung. Even though it was her who broke it off.

She should have known what it was gonna be like, dating an older guy- an incoming senior now- but she thought it meant he was gonna be more mature and that he was gonna be more upfront with her. It unfortunately had meant the exact opposite.

“You can’t help it. You like bad boys. Been that way ever since I met you,”

“I just like people who don’t take shit from people. They just happened to be wearing chains on their jeans and maybe sporting a juvie record,”

Magenta seemed to have a preference, but all for good reason. If she ended up with some goodie two shoes, it was gonna be this morality contest where he would end up judging all the shit she had done, like her own couple stints with the law. She’d rather hang with people who didn’t judge her, and that meant those who have done things just as bad or even worse than her.

“Then how come you haven’t hit up Warren yet?” Layla asked, with mild curiosity.

“He reads Hemmingway, And likes it,” Magenta’s face scrunched up in disgust, “Also, there’s a thing as being too on brand. I just know that it’s not gonna work. We’re too much alike.”

“Nah. Warren’s so much nicer,” Layla’s hands were still on her shoulder and she playfully swatted them away, “You know what? I’ll catch you later. I don’t wanna sit in here for an hour in my own stickiness.” she gestured to all the fruit stains all over her clothes just as a family came in to browse the store.

“Ew, Layla. There are children in here,”

The redhead gave an unamused grin at the innuendo before walking out of the store, calling out to Warren,“Make sure she doesn’t do anything reckless while I’m gone!”

“Not my job,” The long haired boy called from his seat, “Not like I can stop her.”

‘Fuck you,’ she mouthed at her coworker before going off to see if Jeannie needed her to do anything else around the shop. It was only 4 o clock but she knew it was gonna be a long rest of her shift.

#sky high #sky high movie #sky high 2005 #magenta sky high #zach sky high #zach braun #magenta lewis #zach/magenta #magenta/zach #zach x magenta #magenta x zach #guineaglow #sky high au #sky high fic idea #fic excerpt #i don't know if I'll ever finish it

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mortuarybees · 5 years

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Exclusively For People Made Feral By “You go too fast for me, Crowley.”

The kind of fanfiction I enjoy is the kind which requires me to take a decompression breather every paragraph or so because I’m repressed and tenderness is physically painful. i want there to be yearning and pining and brooding and ultimately, intimacy: fics which embody the mortifying ordeal of being known, as well as the reward of being loved in the end. So here are the fics I’ve read that satisfy this requirement, or in some cases are just extremely tender, in no particular order, with a quote that made me absolutely wild, as well as a few things that aren’t fic

another soul to cling to by strawberry_bee/my best friend @femmeaziraphale

Crowley is born a run of the mill angel. There is only one catch though. He is given a prophecy by God to be the first and only angel to fall in love. That's clearly off the table when he falls from Heaven though, right? // in progress and the only in-progress fic on the list but it is Too Good and also i have a direct line to the author and they will finish it

“Do you promise to stay still if I turn out the lights?” Aziraphale asked.

“The dark is a demon’s favorite place to be,” Crowley joked, feeling the urge to make light of the situation. He rather felt like he was being taken on a jaunty little date, human skulls included just to woo a demon in the right sort of way.

“Quiet, foul fiend,” Aziraphale said, snapping his fingers again. They dove into darkness, and before Crowley could find some sort of clever quip, he felt Aziraphale’s arms about his waist. His brain turned to mush, the only thing he could think of being ‘oh, so this is love’ before he felt Aziraphale’s lips brush gently against the edge of his mouth.

“Thank you, my dear,” Aziraphale murmured, before pulling away. Crowley reached out blindly, coming up with nothing. He turned to the entrance, spotting the outline of Aziraphale as he ascended. Crowley leaned against a wall, hand resting against the forehead of a skull.

get religion quick (cause you’re looking divine) by brinnanza:

So it was fine. Even if Crowley couldn’t love him, he clearly liked him well enough, and that was almost the same thing.

It no doubt would have continued to be fine, or at least fine-adjacent, were it not for a narrowly averted apocalypse and several bottles of a really quite nice Riesling Aziraphale had found in the back room of his newly restored bookshop.

“I love you, do you see? Not for work. I’m - I suppose you could say I’m in love with you, to use a human phrase.”

Crowley went very still. Aziraphale withdrew his hands and folded them primly in his lap, moving back to their more customary distance. “It’s quite alright that you don’t love me,” he hurried to add. “It doesn’t change anything. I just wanted you to know in case... Well, anything could still happen with our superiors, you know? Neither side is probably very pleased with us at the moment.”

Crowley stared at him over the rim of his sunglasses, looking rather stricken, and he was making an odd, creaky sound like a strong wind through a poorly-sealed window. The mostly-empty wine bottle he’d been holding slipped out of his loose grasp and clattered to the floor, wine drops spattering on the hardwood. “Aziraphale,” he said finally, voice ragged, “what the fuck are you talking about.”

a home at the beginning of the world by stereobone (explicit)

"Oh," Aziraphale says. "I think Crowley might have moved in with me." // okayokayokay there’s Meaningful Interior Decorating and a couch metaphor and like the fact that they actually goddamn brought That Quote into it...unacceptable

"My dear boy," Aziraphale says. "You could have said something."

"But we never do that," Crowley says.

He's back to worrying at the fabric of his trousers.

"Besides," he says. "Didn't want to go too fast for you."

Aziraphale feels something swell in his chest, and it feels all encompassing. Like love and heartbreak at the same time. Like being back at the Eastern Gate watching Crowley slither up to him for the first time, question everything while Aziraphale himself was trying not to. He's spent so long, too long, telling himself he could never be ready for this. He reaches out and grabs Crowley's hand, stops him from worrying at his trousers any further.

the nuances of ‘together’ by mirawonderfulstar

Everybody in the whole world can tell Aziraphale and Crowley are a couple. Everyone except, apparently, Crowley.

“Oh, don’t look like that, my dear.” Aziraphale said airily. “I don’t mind sharing.”

“It’s—that’s not the bloody point.” Crowley exclaimed, his feelings from the last week finally coming to a head. “Why do people keep assuming we’re together and why do you keep letting them?”

Aziraphale froze, a forkful of chocolate cake halfway to his mouth. He looked like he’d just been slapped. He was focuing very hard on a spot over Crowley's shoulder and his eyes seemed rather wet. Crowley felt a panic begin to slither up his throat, constricting his breathing. He wanted very much to say something, anything at all to make Aziraphale stop looking like that, but he had no idea what.

a culmination of miracles by prettydizzeed

Crowley has chronic pain, and six thousand years later explains that to Aziraphale. I adore the small intimacy of Aziraphale asking him to print him articles about it so he can better understand, and their characterizations, and it seems so much like an exchange from the book I’ll likely have difficulty remembering it isn’t canon in the future, which I’m fine with.

“I don’t read books,” Crowley corrects. “The occasional article, well, maybe.” He figures he’s going to need to extend as many olive branches as he can find, so he adds, “Some of them help. Sometimes quite a lot, actually.”

“Could you—would you print some for me?” Aziraphale asks. “I’d like to understand better.”

“Yeah,” Crowley says, looking at him as long as he can bear. “I’ll do that.”

the hour/the spot/the look/the words by planethunter

Crowley watches Pride and Prejudice (2005) and it spurs a realisation. // fuck guys it’s literally about the hands and perfectly captures like nothing else does the feeling of watching Pride and Prejudice (2005)

One of his hands rests over the other, the tips of his fingers cold. He watches as Darcy takes Elizabeth's hand, gentle, like handling a bird, their fingers curling over each other's. He mimics the gesture with his own hands, brushing his fingers over one another. Slowly, slowly closing them to a grasp. Opening them again, brushing his knuckles with his thumb. He continues, back, and forward, watching with mild fascination. The sensation relaxes him, like a trance, and he only feels some sensation building inside him when it had risen so high that he had to sigh to release it. Now his hands lie still, holding each other limply. He releases them, letting his fingers brush past each other on the way. When he looks up, the television had cut to adverts.

covet by mirawonderfulstar

pining aziraphale and an amazing confession scene that i absolutely adore.

Aziraphale, little good though it did him, wanted desperately. He wanted with an urgency that scared him. He wanted wine, and cocoa, and the occasional tea. He wanted gravlax with dill sauce, and Pappardelle Bolognese, and those awful little iced biscuits they had at Tesco at Christmastime. He wanted dinners at the Ritz and long walks in the park and late nights in the back room of his shop. He wanted Crowley. Fervently, achingly, he wanted Crowley.

a city wall and a trampoline by kafkian

5 times Crowley knows he’s in love with Aziraphale + 1 time he knows the reverse.

Crowley has a system in place for dealing with moments like these. He developed it sometime in the fifth century, when it became clear that the thoughts and feelings the angel inspired in him weren’t going to go away, and neither was the cast iron certainty that they were largely unreturned. The angel loves him, of course, but only in the slightly absentminded, mandated way he loves all other living things. Crowley has long since made his peace with this. It just stings a bit sometimes, like taking a sip of tea so hot it burns the roof of your mouth. (Not that Crowley himself has had this experience. He has gathered from the mental exclamations of many, many humans, however, that such a mishap brings forth a similar sense of aching hurt, betrayal and a wistfulness that things might be different.)

The best Crowley can do is just let himself feel it – let the love go through him, unnatural and sticky though it may be, always trying to glue itself to the inside of his veins – and wait for it to come out the other side. Sometimes it even works.

such surpassing brightness by handful_of_silence

The revelation that Aziraphale might have been in love with him for thousands of years is surprising. The fact that literal books have been written on the subject comes as even more of a shock.

Crowley had always assumed – perhaps disingenuously – that Aziraphale was like most other angels. Capable of grand expressions of love when it came to humanity, but generally avoidant of the topic personally. A love for all things, a love for Crowley even, but the love of a kind, well-meaning relative who sends birthday cards on the wrong day and with a fiver inside with a note to buy something nice like you're still at primary school. Love but distant, separate, and impersonal.

But now, at least according to the rumours, Aziraphale had spent most of the medieval ages playing wingman to a bunch of queer martyrs and church-folk. Which meant that there must be something there, a comprehension of love beyond his angel-standard, over-arching love for mankind. That Aziraphale could, and apparently did, pick favourites.

That he could, just possibly, feel love himself. On an individual level.

listen (he’s already told you five times) by darcylindbergh

Not everything Crowley says is said out loud. Aziraphale doesn't always hear him at first, but he's learning to stop being surprised. // love!!! languages!!

He wonders what Crowley can feel through this touch. He wonders if Crowley can feel him back.

“I’ve never felt anything like you,” he finally says, looking up to meet Crowley’s eyes. They’re wide, awaiting judgment: something in them is terribly resigned, but when Crowley tries to draw his hand back, Aziraphale doesn’t let him go. Instead he steps in closer and says, at nearly a whisper so as not to startle, “What I mean is, you’re beautiful.”

There is a pause, and then Crowley says, soft with surprise, “Oh.”

Aziraphale kisses him.

tell me all the ways by tinsnip

One little speck of sentiment: was it so much to ask? // crowley struggles to tell Aziraphale how he feels out loud; he finds a way around it. pairs well with the fic above, I think.

“I’m not smitten, angel. I wouldn’t say smitten.”

“Oh?” He’d looked at Crowley’s hand in his, looked back up. “And what would you say?”

Suddenly a change in Crowley’s posture, a tilt of his head; there was the sideways smile. “I’d say I lust after you, angel. I covet you. I idolize you. But... smitten? I mean, honestly.” And Crowley had shrugged, as if that had been that.

For some reason, this morning, that hadn’t been enough.

“And?”

“And... and what?” Crowley had looked a bit desperate.

Aziraphale’s mouth had tasted like tea and toast. “And you love me.”

penance by blissymbolics (explicit)

It’ll happen, Crowley tells himself. This time, it’ll finally happen. // it’s porn with feelings, crowley has a praise kink, just read the tags if you’re interested

Maybe being deprived of his right to come was a necessary component of being a demon. It was permanent, chronic proof of his disobedience. But fuck, God already gave him his snake eyes and revoked his retirement benefits. Messing with his dick was just foul play. It probably violated the Geneva Convention.

Around the turn of the twenty-first century, he began to think that maybe it’d be best to just accept his lot and call it quits. It’s obviously never going to happen. So why keep torturing himself?

Or at least, that’s how he felt before Aziraphale. Before a certain day in the year of our Lord, 2019. Before he felt a shift in the solar system, and knew that they were now spinning together as one gravitational unit. They shared the same space. The same time. And on one occasion, the same bodies.

Also, I wrote a fic: all i need, darling, is a life in your shape

it’s about repressed aziraphale and pining and it was inspired by strawberry blond by mitski.

Not Fics But Fuck, Man

Meta: why is aziraphale so gay? by dictionarywrites on ao3: a very extensive meta exploring how aziraphale canonically presents himself as a gay man, and why exactly he does that.

this crowley space meta and this crowley space meta really fcking did me in

the unadulterated yearning in this mitski-inspired art by @poladraws i think about it at least once a day and it is. A Lot

this from eden fan video on youtube

this two part amnesia post by @thealogie like i don’t even fcking like amnesia fic but like. “this discovery and several other little reactions of yours have led me to believe that the Other Me, that is the Me that has all his memories, has let standards slide and is not doting on you as he should be. are you cared for? do i need to kick my own butt?” oh my goddddd

@mulderswatch made a spotify playlist titled angels dined at the ritz hat makes me personally suffer every single time i hear it. he began it with predatory wasp of the palisades (”touching his back with my hand, i kiss him / i see the wasp on the length of my arm”) and ended it with strawberry blond by mitski (”can you hear the bumblebees swarm? / watching your arm / i love it when you look my way”) his m i n d

The best anon in the world asked me for my mitski a/c song associations and here it is

#this is admittedly 90% reference for me in the future #henry speaks #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #fic rec #good omens reference post

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leggomylino · 4 years

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Riddle Me This | Two (detective!chenle x reader)

✫*. Genre: Romance, Comedy, Crime, Drama, Mystery, Sns/Text AU (hybrid) ✫*. Pairing(s): Detective!Chenle x Reader ✫*. Word Count: ~4.2k ✫*. Warning(s): Mild language, dark secrets, angst, gang references, mentions of blood and violence ✫*. A/N: Requests are currently open! | Main Masterlist in bio! | I hope you enjoy <3 Sorry this update was a little slow, but it’s almost twice as long as the first! Thanks once again for reading~

“Well, well, well...what have we got here?”

Nobody moved. The air had gone still with an unwelcoming dampness that sent chills down Chenle’s spine.

This was it. They’d loitered around for too long. The sun was now setting over the horizon, elongating the shadows of their terminators.

Now, this wasn’t his first time being cornered by criminals, so Chenle wasn’t entirely in the dark on what to do or how to react. He and Jisung had been cornered and bullied plenty of times over lunch money or failed homework assignments before this unfortunate run-in. The first step was always to remain calm and focused; don’t move a muscle, don’t let your guard down. Assess your opponent, and, in most cases, just give them what they want so you can get back home in time to watch the four o’clock rerun of Spongebob. That had always worked for them... however...

Hyuck looked about as confident as he did facing Mr. Wong’s chicken coop when he was handed the egg basket. Anyone could smell the fear radiating off of him. It was almost overpowering, the levels clearly over nine-thousand.

One of the goons laughed, stepping forward to reveal his face in the late evening sunlight that was quickly slipping away for shelter, not wanting to get dragged into such a scrabble. Chenle couldn’t blame him, he’d be running too if his legs weren’t glued to the concrete and they weren’t incredibly surrounded. The man ran a gloved hand through his grown-out hair, his bare fingers fading and tangling into the dark mess.

“The hell is this?” he slurred, brows arched in an uneven fashion. Each step he took was a hollowed-out death sentence, announcing the soon-to-be arrival of four new tombstones along the foggy hillside of Westwind Cemetery. “This is what the boss is so worried about? A couple o’ scrawny little twerps?”

“Scrawny is right,” another one grumbled, stepping out to reveal himself as well. His thick lean muscles and dark brooding stature made up for his lack of height in the intimidation department. “Except for maybe the comic book geek over here. He could probably stand to lose a few.”

Hyuck winced at the mention of his weight, bowing his head in shame as crimson shades of embarrassment took over his cheeks. While the rest of the men laughed, Jisung lashed out, something Chenle had been lowkey afraid of. Just like old times.

“Shut up! Hyuck isn’t fat at all, he’s just got big cheeks. You’re one to talk, Squirrel Boy.”

That certainly hadn’t gone over well. Normally Jisung was rather quiet and willing to compromise if it meant the two of them could get home to their TV on time, but once he’d already been railed up, there was no stopping him. His sharp mouth took over his sense of judgement.

You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.

A veil of silence fell over the deserted back street before the goons all burst into laughter, minus Squirrel Boy and one other, who only rolled his eyes at his fellow goons-in-arm’s comments.

“Wow Han, they already know your name! Have you been holding out on us? Forget to tell us you made some new friends?”

“This is too cute. I didn’t know you had a couple of runts you snuck out to play detective with.”

“You should invite us to play with you sometime!”

While Squirrely Han stood fuming and yelling insults, the only grunt who had yet to say anything stepped forward, shaking his head in visible disapproval from his previous perch atop a few old box crates down Side Avenue B, adding to the number of goons total and only decreasing their odds of survival.

“This is stupid. You all need to grow up and stick to why we’re here.”

The others all looked at him curiously as he padded over before a bored viel glazed over their faces.

But just as one of them opened his mouth to speak, it was Jaemin who spoke up next. “And just why are you here?” he asked, careful footsteps echoing ‘til they reached Chenle’s right side.

He gulped. The intensity and precision coming off of Jaemin was admirable to say the least...if not possibly stupid for one holding one-half of the braincell.

Then again, Jaemin had always been a smart and calculating guy. A true smooth talker among smooth talkers. Maybe, by some miracle, he could get them out of this slowly escalating mess.

The goon with what appeared to be a surprisingly high maturity level for someone their age only glared a moment from behind a probably stolen pair of fashion lenses, shaking his head again before he scoffed. “That’s the question I’m supposed to be asking you.” He unfolded his arms, placing a steady hand on his hip as he slightly cocked his head to the side. “We know you’ve been snooping around our turf lately under our noses, but now you’ve had the guts to do it right before our eyes. What gives? What do you four want?”

“What we want is to continue our investigation in peace,” Jisung snapped. One of the other gang members made a scrunched-up face.

“Wha? Investigation?” His freckles settled into a smoothed-out frown. “What the fuck are you investigating? You looking for a fight or somethin’?”

“Where were you going?” Glasses cut back in, eyes trained hard on the four of them.

When his eyes fell on Chenle specifically, he gulped again, taking a deep, steady breath to try and calm himself. He could do this. He just had to remember the rules...keep your composure, short simple sentences, give them what they want.

...But of course, Jisung was always there to defend the people he cared about. Mainly just Chenle. “Westwind Bookstore. Not that it’s any of your business,” he added with extra emphasis.

Another awkward silence fell over the crowd, only this time it didn’t end with joyous barbaric laughter. Instead, the five leather-clad delinquents all looked at each other, their faces strangely dark with worry and discomfort.

“What, that place?”

“Oh hell no,” Freckles said, shaking his head. “No way I go anywhere near that place. It’s rumored to be haunted as shit.”

A red-haired hooligan nodded, looking the most distraught next to a suave dark-haired one. “I heard that if you so much as try to talk to the owner, he’ll rip your heart out!”

“Wha? Who?”

“The ghost!”

Freckles blinked. “Who the fuck told you that?”

“...I dunno.” Red boy shrugged. “I heard it a few days ago.”

“...That’s dumb. Then how is anyone s’posed to buy anything?”

“Enough,” the shortest goon with bulging muscles snorted. His voice was raspy and sounded like spitfire when he spoke. “Seungmin is right, this is getting nowhere fast. Look…” He marched over to Jaemin, still standing tall and proud with a look of even confidence on his face. But Chenle could smell the fear lurking beneath his faux composure from a mile away. “You stay off our turf after hours and get a new hobby in your little detective business, or there’s gonna be trouble,” he spat, jabbing Jaemin right in the chest. “Got it?”

Please just say yes. Please just say okay, and we can all move on, Chenle thought. This was a stroke of pure luck honestly, never in Chenle’s history of hold-ups had he been let go with a warning before. The moment Jaemin agreed to back down, they could continue on with their little errand and all would be--

Jaemin smiled. A true, soft, gentlemanly smile. “Why does what we do bother you so much?” he asked. “It sounds to me like someone’s scared.”

A cold wind blew, a lone tumbleweed bouncing by. Nobody moved or said a thing.

Then Spitfire flipped out a blade, grabbing the pink-haired boy by the collar of his striped button-up shirt. “Why you--” He growled, eyes darkening along the horizon. “I’ll show you scared.”

“Let him go!” Jisung yelled, beginning to rush over. His footsteps pounded on the hard concrete until a flash of red and black flew past the corner of Chenle’s vision, holding his best friend back.

“You probably don’t wanna do that,” Red muttered, sounding a bit nervous. His black-haired companion nodded.

“Yeah, once Changbin gets going, it’s best not to--”

“Fuck off,” Jisung spat while struggling, literally...spitting...on the sidewalk. Right on the guy’s shoes.

...Maybe Jeno was right about him needing to take more magnesium supplement after all. Between Jaemin’s triumphant stand and Jisung’s disproportionate behavior, there was no way they were getting out of this alive now. They’d both lost their minds, dooming them all.

“The fuck did you just say?” Squirrely Han spat. There was a lot of spatting going on, but that was the least of their concerns seeing as he flicked open a switchblade in the next second.

Freckles chuckled darkly, brushing his orange hair back from his eyes. “Guess they really are lookin’ for a fight,” he mused, an excited gleam filling his eyes. “I could go for a few rounds.”

“Nobody is fighting anybody,” Glasses said, waving his hands in emphasis. “This is so stupid, just, everyone calm down. The four of you get out of here and stay off our turf before--”

“Our turf, our turf,” Jisung mimicked in a mocking tone. Chenle could feel the hard eyeroll that followed. “This isn’t your anything, we have as much of a right to be here as anyone else does. If you haven’t noticed, this is a crime scene, and we’re very busy investigating this case, so if you don’t mind, maybe the six of you could--”

Whap!

Chenle didn’t need to turn around to see what had happened. He’d seen enough when Squirrely Han rolled his eyes right back, pacing over while Jisung uncharacteristically ran his mouth.

“Jisung!” Hyuck gasped, finally finding his voice. He attempted to run over, but was grabbed by Freckles, Glasses having to help him with yet another eyeroll.

“I guess we’re really doing this then,” he grumbled with a halfhearted shrug. “I’m sorry you guys couldn’t just listen to reason.”

“Shoulda kept his mouth shut,” Han mused, glaring down at an unconscious Jisung. When next he twirled his blade around ringed fingers, flicking it open again, Chenle couldn’t recall exactly what had come over him after that; something in him had just snapped. He remembered lunging forward with no recollection of willing himself to do so, followed by Jaemin shouting something, then a rush of pain plumming along the crown of his skull, a curtain of black signalling the end of the charade and sucking all the life out of him as he collided into a state of numbness.

When next he woke up, he was staring at a blanket of stars, the rough concrete sprinkled in red and the smell of iron drying on his cheek, a cold reminder of what had previously transpired as thoughts slowly crept back to him, a wave of nausea weighing him down alongside a splitting headache…

...That, and the fact that Jisung and Jaemin were missing, Hyuck lying unconscious a few feet away.

You stared at your necklace as you held it above you, lying flat on your bed as it dangled above your face. Your one and only prized possession. Your grandmother’s locket.

You hated that thing.

For starters it gave you nothing but grief. You couldn’t tell someone how many times some schmuck with a beret or a top hat and some sort of monocle or magnifying glass had come marching into your shop searching for it. Doing research, asking you questions. Endless questions. It was annoying. At first you’d made the mistake of telling them yes, you knew what they were talking about and yes, that was your name your grandmother had left in her old-fashioned ink-stained parchment will and yes, you just so happened to have it on you right at that moment.

Then you’d show it to them and they’d all go ballistic. One guy even clonked out right there by the front desk.

The other ones who hadn’t passed out from shock tried to coax it from you, and there were many different arts to this. Most offered you money, a few tried convincing you to just give it to them. But they all ended roughly the same: a big fat no on your part and Mark chasing the ones who refused to leave out the door.

So if you hated it so much, why didn’t you just get rid of it? What (y/age) girl living on her own (sort of) couldn’t use the extra money?

Well for one it was your grandmother’s, and while you hardly knew the old braud you couldn’t shake the feeling that she entrusted you with her locket for a reason. From what you did remember of the stories your mother told you when you were young(er), the woman was always ranting about how it was going to save her one day and she never took it off.

So you did the same...except you never ranted about some ancient hunk of metal being the Key of Salvation and you couldn’t wear the darned thing to bed. It was just too uncomfortable. It felt...heavy. Like a burden pressing the air out of your lungs.

Yet you felt anxious being too far from it, so one day you hammered a nail into the wall by your bed and that became its new resting place. Til death do you part.

You didn’t understand how your grandmother could possibly think this ratty old thing was going to be the key to anyone’s salvation, much less hers. Some luck it’d done her; she was six feet under sleeping with the fishes. All it ever brought you was misery and an endless chain of unwanted attention.

At least it was somewhat pretty.

A knock at the door cast you out of your self-pitying thoughts, a warm presence waiting for you on the other side.

“Come in,” you said, sitting up and putting the necklace to bed. Mark’s usual semi-bored expression met you a moment later as he closed the door behind him.

“It’s getting late. Why aren’t you in bed?”

“I am in bed,” you teased, sticking your tongue out at him. He smirked, crossing the small attic space to settle at your feet, his hands tucked deep into his hoodie pocket.

“I meant why aren’t you asleep.”

You hadn’t meant to, but for a fleeting second your eyes traveled to the stupid locket hanging by your pillow, and that was all the ghost needed to go on.

“The locket?”

Crap. You really didn’t wanna talk about it. In fact…

“I’d be perfectly fine never talking about it again,” you told him, turning your face towards the wall. When you realized the dumb thing was right above your nose again you flinched, letting out a small growl before flopping yourself over like a fish.

Mark just chuckled at your petty antics, setting a hand gently over your right ankle. “Hey, I get it. You hate that thing because you feel it’s what got you into this whole mess. Am I right?”

“What mess?” Your voice is muffled through polyfill and torn cotton pillow sheets. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Y/n…”

You groaned.

“......” Mark sighed, the bed shifting as he leaned back to prop himself up with his elbows, your calves now draped over his leg. You sometimes wondered about that; how he could be a ghost, and yet, at times be as solid and warm as a living, breathing human being. As if that car crash had never even happened. “That’s actually what I came up here to talk to you about.”

Amid the silence you lifted your head from it’s hole in the sand, gazing back at him over your shoulder curiously. “I thought you came up here to send me to bed like a nine-year-old.”

“That too. But since I knew you were up, I was hoping we could talk for a minute.”

His eyes were on you in the next second, and the only thing you could do was blink a few times before you realized he was waiting for your permission to start. “Okay…”

He smiled, small but true, and averted his gaze downward before flicking it toward the Key of Salvation hanging on the wall. “Have you been able to get it open at all? Do you know what’s inside?”

That was the other thing. You knew the necklace was a locket, but you had no earthly idea what the heck was inside the darned thing. Anytime you tried to pry out the truth, it refused to budge an inch. Not even a centimeter. “No idea.”

“Hmm…” After a few moments of staring a hole into both it and the wall Mark gave a low hum under his (breath?), holding out his hand expectantly. “Alright, then. Let me try.”

It suddenly occurred to you in that moment that you’d perhaps never been more dumb in your life. At least not as far back as you could remember. Mark was a ghost; that counted as a supernatural being, right?

If human strength wasn’t enough to bust it open, surely something supernatural or voodoo-y would do the trick. You don’t think you’d ever flung something so fast or with such vigor before. For as much trouble as it caused you, it sure would be nice to know what all the fuss was about, why all these museum coordinators and old-timey scholars were constantly knocking at your door.

Mark just laughed as he caught it, taking a moment to examine and turn it over in his hands a few times before getting to work. The deep rivets along the flower stems, the amount of detail put into each and every petal...

Then another. Then another.

“...What are you doing?” you asked anxiously, nearly jumping up to your knees to hover over his shoulder the way he normally hovered over you any other time of day. “Open it already! Use your superhuman strength to pop the hinges off the darned thing!”

“Hmm…” Mark ignored you at first, almost seeming to be caught someplace far away as he stared good and hard at the piece of craftsmanship wrapped around his fingers, his features almost as set and stone-like as whatever unbreakable material the necklace was made out of.

Unbreakable until today, that is. “Go on! Open it!”

“...Y/n,” Mark suddenly began. When next you looked at his face, you noticed the creases along his forehead beginning to match those carved into the necklace, rigidly cradling beads of sweat. His voice trembled lightly on the nervous side. “Before I try anything, I want you to know how important this necklace is. Not just to your grandmother or all these investors and archaeologists that have been showing up for the past year or so, but...to you as well. To your family.”

“Huh…?” You cocked your head just slightly. “What are you talking about?” You looked down to the locket in Mark’s hands. “I hate this dumb thing. It brings me nothing but trouble.” You sighed, glancing back down at your own bare hands turned face-up in your lap. “Sure would be nice to know what everyone’s after, though…”

“I know you hate it but…” Another sigh. He raised the piece of jewelry to dangle before his face, similar to what you had been doing before, staring it down with precise, curious eyes. “...I still don’t understand everything myself, but all I can say is that it’s definitely important.”

“Mark…” You scrunched your brow. “What are you talking about? Why are you bringing this up now?”

A long pause. The two of you just sat there in silence for a few dragged out moments before he finally got to work.

“...Nothing. I’m sorry I brought it up. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just think you should take better care of it, is all.”

“What?” You frowned. “You didn’t scare me. I’m not scared, I just--”

There was a crack. Something had snapped.

Oh my gosh, it was working!

“Keep going!” You urged, hands balled up into tight fists. You bit your lip, watching with anxious, pleading eyes.

Oh please oh please oh please oh please oh please--

...Sadly, after four and a half minutes of this, that was all he was able to pull off. The crack wasn’t even visible, if it was even there at all. Heck, maybe you’d just imagined it.

“You mean to tell me you can walk through walls and manifest places at will but you can’t break open a stupid necklace?” you huffed, dropping your hands to sit atop your legs. “Can’t you just reach through it and pull it out? Whatever’s in there?”

Mark shook his head, looking just as defeated and maybe even a little...conscious. Like he knew something you didn’t. “It doesn’t work like that, y/n.”

Huh? “Why not?”

Mark paused. Again. Staring off into space for a little while, then back down at the topic of discussion. “It just...doesn’t.”

The air grew stiff and silent once more. A cold breeze went by, rattling a fall branch against the small circular window of your room facing Summers Street, where the three-quarters moon hung precariously among a blanket of stars.

You stood, ruining the tense silence abruptly. Whatever he was hiding, it was coming out here and now. Mark may have been able to hide secrets from you in the past, but once he’d entered the spirit world he’d become a pretty lousy liar.

You distinctly crossed your arms, a suspicious quirk to your brow. “What aren’t you telling me, Mark? Why have you never brought this up before?” A pause. “What’s going on? Why are you acting so…”

Your voice trailed off at a faint rapping from downstairs. You were about to brush it off as a couple of raccoons or maybe one of the older bookshelves having given out, since they were getting ancient beyond their years and in desperate need of replacement, but the knocking only intensified until it sounded like life or death.

Worn bookshelves didn’t knock so eagerly. They didn’t knock at all. Raccoons didn’t either.

Then you heard the door burst open, the usually pleasant bellchime crackling like roaring fire.

You didn’t move, your breath hitching. Were you seriously being robbed right now? Why had you not heard anything from the daily newspaper? But wait. Robbers didn’t knock repeatedly to see if you were home. If anything, they may knock once or twice, like dipping a few toes into the water before diving right in. Whoever had just broken into your store was obviously looking for someone.

A horrible thought entered your mind. Oh gosh, it’s the architects. The history majors. They’re growing desperate, resorting to a life of crime if it means having that stupid necklace.

While you stood frozen in place, wondering whether or not your should be arming yourself or diving under the bed, Mark quickly vanished, manifesting at you side a moment to grip your shoulders for assurance and make certain you weren’t about to have a panic attack before venturing off to investigate.

“Stay here,” he whispered through airwaves. “Don’t leave this room until I come back for you.”

He turned out the light and was gone the next second, leaving you with a flickering candle atop your small work desk, where you usually filed insurance forms and much hated taxes.

Time was frozen still while you waited for his return. You didn’t budge an inch, not a muscle, as you stood on a mountain of sand beside your bed, dangerously close to toppling over as you felt your blood circulation begin to numb.

You couldn’t just stand around like a bump on a log all night. This was your store, your apartment. You had to know what was going on.

So you did exactly what Mark told you not to do. What else was new.

As you crept on cat’s feet to give the flickering candle a gentle goodnight kiss, you made sure to snag gran’s locket where Mark had left it lying on the desk, fastening it firmly around your neck. No way were you leaving it sprawled out alone or invitingly hanging on the wall for any old thief to grab. You wandered quietly towards the door, stopping only a moment to tuck the accursed thing beneath your pjs.

The touch of cold metal against your skin sent shivers down your spine, a few drops of wax nearly burning your skin from where--

...Hold on. Hadn’t it been lying close to the candle? And you had the small heater set up in the corner going on almost full blast. So how was it that the metal was so…

...Later, y/n, later. Right now you had more pressing matters to worry about.

Cringing rather late for someone nearly burned by hot wax, you fanned the strangely cool necklace away from your skin a moment before swallowing down a dose of Big Girl pills and crawling out the door.

Yes. Crawling. You shuffled silently as you could on hands and knees, pausing yet again halfway towards the stairs to curse your stupidity of forgetting to bring a weapon, only to remember your only weapon was Mark, then carried on until you reached the wooden decline into Westwind’s only bookstore.

You took a deep breath. You were ready. ...No, wait. One more. In, out...there we are. Okay. You could do this. If anything happened Mark could bail you out, he always had and surely always would.

Carefully, you peeked between the railing, eyes fixated on the opened front entryway…

Where a young boy was lying unconscious.

»»————-　♡　————-««

✫*.Riddle Me This | Toil and Trouble - Two | detective!chenle x reader

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honestgrins · 5 years

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The Worst || Klaroline

Caroline's always looked forward to finding her soulmate, only to find him while dying on her birthday. He's just...the worst.

“Hello, Earth to Caroline!” A pretzel landed on her textbook, shaking her from her zoned-out stare. She found Bonnie watching her with concern. “Are you okay? You’ve been acting weird since your birthday. Brooding, almost.”

Bristling, Caroline couldn’t help the wave of alarm rolling down her spine at the mention of her disastrous ‘funeral’-turned-near death experience. “Um, I think I’m still processing the whole thing,” she shrugged. “Post-traumatic stress or something.”

With a cant of her head, Bonnie didn’t seem convinced. But she just reached across the table to squeeze her hand. “Tyler’s a dick for biting you and running away. Maybe he and Jeremy can go off on an adventure together,” she joked with a sad smile.

Caroline was grateful for the easy excuse and almost let herself play along. Holding back the truth wasn’t exactly helping, though, and she probably needed to talk to someone. A witch who could help her brainstorm magical solutions certainly seemed as good an option as any, especially when it was her best friend. “It’s not that. I’ve got this...problem, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

“What kind of problem?”

The kind felt like lead in her stomach, she wanted to say, dread scratching at her nerves until she shoved a handful of pretzels into her mouth. Eating her feelings was a lot easier than facing the biggest disappointment of her human life, no matter how short it was or the fact that it was officially over. She forced herself to swallow, but couldn’t manage to meet Bonnie’s eyes. “I think I found my mate.”

Bonnie blinked at her, clearly not expecting that. Worse, she didn’t seem to know how to react. “You don’t look happy,” she finally said, which explained her hesitance. “You’ve been dreaming about your soulmate for forever, and you look...” She trailed off, pity thick in her voice.

“Scared,” she finished hoarsely. “I’m scared, Bonnie.”

Their hands grasped for each other over their forgotten textbooks, high school midterms suddenly less pertinent than whatever hell had just descended on Mystic Falls. “Tell me.”

Biting her lip, she was terrified of what saying it out loud might mean. Bonnie could hate her for it, Damon would probably kill her as soon as he heard. But pretending it wasn’t real, keeping this secret might kill her all the same. Eyes wide and pleading, she silently begged her friend to love her anyway.

As it turned out, she didn’t even need to say it because Bonnie could read the pain and fear in her face. There weren’t that many new people floating around town, and only one could inspire such a visceral horror.

Klaus.

She used to dream about her soulmate. All kids did, to a point, but it became something of a project for in elementary school. What they would look like, how their hugs must have felt, no detail was too silly for a young Caroline to consider as she methodically listed traits that made her perfect match. They’d listen to her - really listen - and care what she had to say. She’d love cooking them dinner and watch lovingly as they did all the dishes, like her parents did.

Her dad found his soulmate just after her twelfth birthday; the divorce happened not much later. While some figured she’d be put off the whole concept, it only reinforced her belief that love was best meant for the other half that existed somewhere in the universe. She may have learned to be slightly more flexible in the possibilities, but she wanted it more than ever. Finding a mate must be an incredible, undeniable experience. Her dad never would have left her behind for anything less than that, right?

Growing up was a lonely time, made more so by her mother’s promotion and the empty house that remained. She threw herself into school and clubs and every conceivable opportunity in Mystic Falls to keep herself busy, maybe around people who wanted her around. Bonnie and Elena would always be the nice girls, more popular and generally well-liked in a way her abrasive personality would never allow. But Caroline could be useful. She liked being useful.

That, however, often led to being used. Her soulmate could never use her, she thought. They wouldn’t want to, they just wouldn’t.

She’d read every self-help book about soulmates, scoured advice columns, and all but interviewed every mated couple she knew. Caroline wanted to know how they knew. What made a soulmate, and how could they be recognized? For most, it was the first brush of skin, a handshake or a hug. Others claimed there wasn’t one moment, and they couldn’t quite remember when they realized a friend was a soulmate - but it was absolute and they never looked back. Some knew on their first date, others after having sex for the first time. Bonnie’s Grams said she found hers just by meeting his eyes from across a crowded party; she kind of wanted to chalk it up to the Bennett magic, as romantic as the story was to little Caroline.

Whatever the set-up was, the punchline was always the same for human soulmates: a hole in their chest, one they never noticed or worried about, felt full and warm and right. And she’d felt that lying in Klaus’s arms, his blood staining her lips. She’d been scared, achy, and livid - she also felt right staring up at this beautiful monster, promising her a thousand more birthdays like they were a gift. Like he hadn’t just held her life in his hands and gambled with the outcome.

Her soulmate had tried to have her killed. That should have been the horrifying part of the story, her mate being a thousand-year-old wolf-vampire hybrid with the power to compel her, all while he made her friends’ lives a living hell. Despite the supposed bond they were meant to share, she had no doubt that he would use her for whatever he wished and toss her away just as easily. But there was more.

“Bonnie,” choked out, “I don’t think he recognized me as his soulmate.”

Klaus scrawled the note as an afterthought, having originally planned to drop the dress and his mother’s invitation on the doorstep with nary a word otherwise. But he had hesitated before ringing the doorbell. She’d looked tired as she arrived home, a little wary - far from the fighting spirit he’d met on her birthday. Plaguing his thoughts since, she would suit the dress well. He wanted her to know it was from him.

So he left his note and flashed away, content to let the matter settle in the back of his mind until the ball that night.

That was his plan, anyway. In truth, he spent an hour or two sketching details of her obstinance. Another hour wasted away with him focused on the curve of her mouth as she fought against sleep, something like awe in her expression. That face had haunted his own dreams, and he couldn’t understand why. Baby vampires were a dime a dozen, and he’d killed hundreds - thousands - just like her in his life. She wasn’t even the first one he’d saved with his new, uninhibited blood.

Yet, she lingered, and he didn’t quite know what to do with that. Caroline Forbes had intrigued him. With the new era of peace his mother supposedly wanted, perhaps he could while away the days seducing the sheriff’s daughter into her new life beyond mere mortality.

Klaus found he quite liked the idea.

She never meant to tell him. The ball had been a disaster, pretty dress or no, and she’d ended up tossing the diamond bracelet at his feet. For someone so adamant he couldn’t possibly have a soulmate, he’d worked pretty hard to appeal himself to little, old her.

And he’d seemed so wistful about being a product of his mother’s soulmate, how Mikael had hated that love and punished him for it all those years. She thought...maybe... But she wasn’t going to tell him. Naming herself as his mate would just sign away her freedom, if he didn’t kill her outright. The guy was nuts and always looking for his next power trip, and Caroline refused to just hand it over in the form of her stupid, fated heart.

Curiosity had always been her hallmark, though, and she asked one question too many.

He seemed sad, even when he was flirting with her. Heart pounding, she kept her arms tightly crossed to keep from reaching for him. It was a stupid impulse, yet it felt so natural to want to lace her fingers through his and give a comforting squeeze. But he was just so aggravating, and she wouldn't let herself feel sorry for him - and she told him exactly what she thought about siring hybrids for his own amusement.

"You're making assumptions," he said in a soft voice that belied the danger in his expression.

"And you're lonely," she accused right back. "So you compel yourself minions and cart your family around in boxes, or you try to buy people off." She unlatched the bracelet like it had burned her wrist and let it drop between them. "Life doesn't work like that, Klaus."

A smirk clawed up his cheeks as he looked at her like prey. "Life works however I wish it, sweetheart. You're young, likely still hoping to fulfill all those human dreams you've yet to let go. College, a career, maybe even a happy marriage with a soulmate meant just for you."

Warning bells sounded in her head, but she forced herself to seem unaffected. "Why not? Being a vampire doesn't have to change that."

"Best of luck, sweetheart." His tone dripped with disdain, anger bright in his eyes. "If you don't find them in this lifetime, you'll be spending those birthdays I promised alone."

"Are you sure about that?"

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Caroline wasn't thinking, it just fell out of her mouth, bitter and pained. She could feel him watching her closely, and she needed to leave before she did something worse. "Never mind," she scoffed, rolling her eyes. " You don't connect with people because you don't even try to understand them." Though she dearly wanted to sprint all the way home, she kept her pace steady and tried to find peace in the haughty clack of her heels.

But she wouldn't find peace, not with Damon and the rest throwing her to the hybrid as the little, blonde distraction. Once more, she found herself surprised with the effort he put forth. Not surprising at all was how charmed she felt by his attention, and she hated herself for that. He'd been so earnest, though, daring her to get to know him and looking up at her with those big, hope-filled eyes. Whatever game he was playing, he had all the right moves to keep pulling her in when she should have known better. Her ignored instincts were proven right when his whole persona turned on a dime, gripping her by the arms and staring her down with pure rage.

He was the soulmate of her nightmares, and she felt doomed to love him anyway.

Burning the half of his sketchbook he'd already filled with her likeness felt like an empty gesture, but a necessary outlet for the chaos of emotions she seemed to inspire in him. He ran after her, pulled beyond comprehension to follow her confident stride - passing cars and better judgment be damned. The thrill of victory as Caroline sat with him was familiar and yet new, and he was wary of what it all meant.

His fears, as always, were well-founded considering the attempt on his siblings' lives, and he'd thought to kill her for her part in the scheme. It should have been a simple task, and she would have had no chance at deflecting his attack. She floundered when asked, looking around for someone to save her yet resigned that no one would.

Klaus didn't like that, and he didn't know why. He'd physically recoiled at the terror on her face, instead distracting himself with pursuing the more immediate threat. With the Salvatores momentarily put off, however, Caroline appeared to be a more sinister presence in his life than he anticipated.

If only that didn't make her so damn intriguing, then he could finally be rid of her. A part of him wondered recklessly whether there was more to the young vampire than the sudden infatuation of a hybrid set free of both curse and father. Then he'd quickly discard that line of thinking; it simply wasn't possible.

They were going to kill him.

Bonnie was the one to tell her about the storage locker, warning her not to do anything rash. With Damon and Alaric gunning for him, though, she only had so much time to debate the pros and cons of letting Klaus die. She was in her car before Bonnie had even hung up, half-formed plans running through her mind as she drove.

Parking behind a large truck in case Damon was still lurking about, Caroline didn't let herself hesitate to find the coffin he had hid her soulmate in, the dramatic ass. Luckily, the building was deserted as far as she could tell, and she flashed to the unit where Klaus was supposedly stowed. Her heart clenched at finding him in chains, only to jolt in surprise at finding his eyes open and watching her. "Hi."

He just blinked, and she could just see the gears turning in his head. "You're...the worst," she sighed, looking down to break the lock. "You are a power-hungry control freak who takes his daddy issues out on everyone who dares to make their own choices," she continued, moving onto the loosened chains. "Compulsion, sire bonds, straight up murder, none of that is good. I'm scared there's no line you won't cross, and I'm scared that it still won't be enough for me to leave."

It looked like a gargantuan effort for his desiccated forehead to crumple in the shadow of a frown. Gritting her teeth, she blew out a long breath. "But I'm more scared to lose my soulmate before he even knows." Caroline bit into her wrist and shoved it against his mouth, daring him to fight her claim when he tasted her blood for the first time.

Eyes wide and alarmed, Klaus dutifully drank until his skin gained back some color and his veins began to recede. When she made to pull away, his hand suddenly circled around her arm and held her still. He retracted his fangs from her skin, but left his tongue to tease the slowly healing cuts and clean any remaining blood.

Shakily, she stepped back and he let her go, though he quickly stood to follow her. "Caroline," he said, voice low with awe.

"Not now." She shook her head, flashing out to the car, confident he wouldn't be far behind. "We have to get going before anyone notices you're gone. We're gone," she corrected.

Klaus slid into the passenger seat, seemingly unable to look away from her with a small grin on his face. "Rome, Paris, or Tokyo, sweetheart?"

Rolling her eyes, she put the car in gear and sped away from the storage center. "Wherever we go will just be ruined if you come back and kill my friends," she pointed out. "I know you weren't really looking for a mate, but I won't be controlled, Klaus. And I won't let you hurt the people I love."

"And you won't let people hurt me." Her mouth fell slack at the implication, and she slid her gaze to find him watching her intently. "Intriguing," he said, almost to himself. "You are certainly more than meets the eye, Caroline Forbes."

"Yeah, well." She gave a helpless grin, completely unsure of anything other than the fact her life would never be the same. "Good luck with that."

#kcauweek2019 #day 4: mates #klaroline #klaroline drabbles #SORRY I'M SO LATE #but this was like pulling teeth and i had too much of it done not to finish #i hope it makes sense #i am also barely sleeping so it might just be gibberish #anyway #fic: the worst #almost everything

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a-strange-inkling · 5 years

Text

SASUSAKU MONTH DAY 2: Patterns

Rated T (for suggestive content and language)

Summary: Only in another life would Sakura ever hate Sasuke, and even then it’s debatable. Though in a different sky, the stars always follow the same pattern (RTN AU, First Chapter of Story that I’ve been working on)

Annoying

"You aren't mad at me, are you Sakura?"

Ah. There they were.

Uchiha Sasuke's infamous Puppy-Dog Eyes.

Haruno Sakura held back a sneer as she turned her attention back to the romance novel she was currently indulging, not in the mood for any of her overly hormonal team mate's antics. The sweet, childlike innocence in those round, onyx orbs of his was as sincere as a tray of fucking cheese. Sasuke knew better than anyone that she was mad at him.

She was always mad at him.

"Sa-ku-ra..." he cooed, trying again for her attention, speaking her name at a low and chilling octave, knowing she hated when he did that.

The Fourth Hokage's daughter only snorted at the sound of her name rolling seductively off his lips, before pivoting her entire body away from him, crossing her legs with a steely grace.

Sasuke rolled his eyes, unable to repress the smirk that had been playing at the corner of his mouth. "Well, I must have really hit close to the mark this time, you're even pulling out your age-old Ice Queen persona."

Sakura simply glared at the written text in front of her, refusing to get in yet another spat with the arrogant boy. However, the young Uchiha had not quite given up yet, he knew one particular trick that would get to the cold young woman.

"You know, no one has mastered the silent treatment quite like you, Sakura-chan."

"Don't call me that." Sakura hissed quickly, shooting him one of her nastiest looks. She never let him call her that.

Sasuke's smirk deepened. "Seems there is still some room for improvement though."

"Look, there is a pair of breasts right over there, Sasuke!" she exclaimed with feigned excitement, pointing to a fairly pretty brunette who was making her way down the street. "Why don't you go bother them for a while?"

Sasuke eyed the passing young woman thoughtfully, mildly interested, before shaking his head and turning his attention back to the spunky rosette. "Shouldn't do that, you might get jealous, then you'd be even madder at me."

Sakura stood then, abruptly, closing her book with a resounding snap, as she put distance between herself and the young Uchiha.

"Come on, Sakura!" he called after her, growing annoyed as the kunochi went to find another place to wait for the rest of their squad. She was secretly pleased that his voice had an agitated edge to it instead of the usual carefree ring that usually resounded from his mouth. "Are you going to be like this the whole mission?"

Silently, with her unparalleled grace, the kunochi leapt up several branches of a nearby oaktree, before settling back down with her book. It was all of nine seconds before Sasuke was perched behind her, peering over her shoulder.

"...how's your latest 'Kiss Handsome Boy' book?" he asked coyly.

"The hero is not handsome, he's deformed," Sakura replied with a roll of her eyes. "What's compelling about him is how deeply he loves and how loyal he is... Something you wouldn't know anything about."

"Deformed as in one side of his otherwise attractive face," Sasuke rolled his eyes. "Oh, is there a scar over one of his eyes? Or is he missing a limb?"

Sakura looked skyward in agitation.

"Heh." Sasuke smirked. "He's just missing a limb isn't he?"

"Would you just leave me alone, please?" Sakura asked him with a sigh, shifting down the branch.

"Oh, come on, aren't you going to tell me more about your hero?" the Uchiha asked smugly. "I bet he's all brooding and tortured with a tragic past, and I'm sure only you can save him."

Sakura growled in agitation before closing the book once more and placing it in her back pouch before turning her jade orbs on the Uchiha playboy.

"Okay, Sasuke, you win," she said, crossing her arms. "You have my attention, now what the hell do you want?"

"Hey," Sasuke put his hands up in surrender. "I'm just trying to find out why you're mad at me, Sakura-chan, it's not good for a team to go on a mission with unresolved issues."

"I'm not mad at you, Sasuke." she said evenly. "I just genuinely can't stand you."

"Aw." Sasuke chided, swinging his legs over the branch to let them swing. "We both know that's not true, we used to be friends once, you even used to call me Sasuke-kun, remember?"

"I was just a stupid kid back then," she replied. "Now, would you leave me alone, it's bad enough I have to spend a whole week with you."

The infamous playboy placed a hand over his heart. "Ah, you wound me, Sakura-chan... Don't you care at all about the importance of teamwork?"

"Oh, are you going to lecture me about teamwork?" she asked him. "You, the one who abandoned the team to flirt with that busty nimrod last time?"

"You're so high and mighty, you know that?" He scoffed. "Sorry that I like to enjoy myself once in a while and talk to people, unlike Menma who can barely form coherent words around women, and you, because you're too busy trying to keep up you're frigid bitch facade."

"Wow, Sasuke." Sakura gave him a mocking grin. "And you wonder why I don't like you."

"That's your problem, you don't like anyone," Sasuke explained matter-o-factly. "That's why you're so lonely all the time."

She felt her breathing hitch and her whole body stiffen at the word.

What did he just say?

Lonely...

"How would you know?" she asked lowly. "You don't know a damn thing about being alone."

"Sakura..." he began, realizing he had gone a little overboard. She was just so harsh sometimes, he couldn't help it. "I didn't mean it like that, I just..."

"You're so damn annoying! Acting like you actually know me!" she exclaimed, so angry she didn't know what to do with herself. "Why don't you just keep your mouth shut about things you don't understand!?" She stood up and leapt down from the tree, unwilling to wait around with him a moment more.

Luckily, Menma appeared, walking up the cobbled path, giving her a shy smile. "M-morning, Sakura-chan."

"Hello, Menma." she replied with a sigh of relief. "It's so good to see you."

"It really is," Sasuke replied, jumping down from his perch. "I'll have a witness in case Sakura-chan tries to do me in."

Menma sighed to himself. It seemed this would be another mission of tension between his two teammates. "Hey, Sasuke... M-my mom made cookies for the journey if you guys want some," he told them, holding out a brown paper bag where his mother had drawn a lopsided smiley face. It was an immature tactic to make peace, but it was effective more times than not.

"Ah!" Sasuke exclaimed, helping himself. "Let me at 'em! Kushina-san's cookies are always the best!"

"Sakura-chan?" Menma encouraged her to take one, trying not to blush.

"No thanks, Menma." Sakura replied, putting up a hand. "I'm on a cleanse, but they smell delicious."

"A cleanse?" Menma asked.

"Probably for the best." Sasuke nodded. "They’re too sweet to share with someone so bitter. Not to mention you've been growing a little thicker around the middle."

Menma cringed in fear. Did Sasuke just call her fat? Did he dare? So much for his peace cookies. Maybe he should try dumplings next time.

A sort of dark shadow fell over Sakura's eyes as she shot a deadly glare up at her raven-haired teammate.

Sasuke smirked in response. "Sorry, koishii, that doesn't work on me."

Sakura had a talent for scaring off her many admirers with that dark look alone, however, that frightening attitude of hers had an opposite effect on Sasuke.

He wasn't afraid, only amused.

"Heh," she replied, startling him a bit and switching gears as an easy smile spread across her face, mirroring his own. That may not work on him, but she knew something that would. "On second thought, I would love a cookie."

She strode past him then, with a little extra swing of her hips, purposefully knocking her shoulder with his own as she did so, and took a large round cookie from the offered bag."Thanks, Menma-kun, you're so sweet!"

Surprising both her male teammates, the kunoichi leaned up and brushed her lips against Menma's cheek as a token of her appreciation, making the blonde turn seven different shades of red and Sasuke's smirk diminish a little.

"Da...uh... N-no problem, Sakura-chan." the poor boy stuttered, his hands clenching around the cookie bag, lost somewhere between pure joy and mortification. His mom was right. Sweets were the way to a girl's heart!

Sakura turned and smirked triumphantly at Sasuke, glad to see his own had melted into a displeased frown, as she took a slow enticing bite of the cookie. "Mmm... you're right, Sasuke, these really are the best."

"Hn." he hummed. "Careful you don't choke, Sakura."

"Good morning, students!" Kakashi greeted, interrupting the spat.

"Ah, right on time as always, Sensei." Sasuke waved before shoving his hands in his pockets. "Where are we off to today?"

...

"Tell me."

"No, go away."

"C'mon, just tell me what's bothering you."

"No! Stop that! Get the hell away from me!"

"Sakuraaaaa."

"Sasuke."

"Look, I'll stop bugging you for the rest of the journey if you just tell me."

"No!"

"Please, Sakura," Kakashi begged from where he was leading the three teenagers. "For all our sakes, take him up on that offer."

Menma nodded in agreement. It was hard to focus on reading the map with those two bickering behind him.

"I'm not giving in to his whining." the rosette replied angrily. "...I'm going on ahead to scout."

With that, she leapt away into the trees and disappeared from sight. Sasuke moved to jump after her.

"Sasuke, give her some space," Kakashi commanded.

"Heh, she's not getting away that easily." was the ninja's careless and insubordinate reply.

Whether she wanted to admit it or not, Sasuke knew Sakura. He had known her his whole life and she really wasn't the icy, badass bitch she made herself out to be. She had been putting up with his normal bullshit for years with the usual scoff or roll of the eyes, whatever he had done most recently must have really upset her.

And, truth be told, he wasn't all too happy with her either.

"I can't really be sorry for something if I didn't even know what I did, you know?" he told her once he caught up with the angry kunoichi. "Come on, I genuinely want to know what's wrong."

"You, genuine?" she scoffed.

"Okay, I don't deserve that," he told her. "We're not thirteen anymore, your lousy attitude is not going to send me into the corner feeling bad about what I did. I'm human, I make mistakes. Not all of us can be perfect like you..."

"You see, that's exactly what gets on my nerves." she turned on him then, her finger pointed right into his face. "You think everything is about you."

"Well, isn't this about me?" he asked. "Isn't that why you haven't spoken to me for days, this morning, and that stunt with Menma you did to try and get me jealous."

"Ha! Don't flatter yourself."

"Well, you were." he laughed. "Unfortunately, I'm not the jealous type like you."

That earned him a glare. "Whatever makes you feel better, Sasuke."

"Look," he sighed. "Is this really going to be the whole mission? Can we just..."

"Ino is not one of those girls!" she exclaimed.

"What?" Sasuke asked, dumbfounded.

"Ino," she remarked. "You know, my best friend? She's not like those girls you hang out with, the ones who enjoy flirting with you as much as you enjoy flirting with them. She's shy, even more so than Menma, anytime a guy gives her any attention she takes it to heart. She took you flirting with her seriously."

"Who are we even talking about?" he asked, confused.

"INO!" Sakura exclaimed. "She's been in every class with both of us since the Academy. Blonde haired, blue-green eyes, wears five layers of clothing."

"Ohhhhh." Sasuke realized. "The stuttering girl... she's your friend still, huh?"

"Kami." Sakura hissed, turning and jumping to another branch.

"Look, Sakura, wait," Sasuke called after her. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean anything by it, it was Shikamaru's idea, it was all just a joke."

"Just a joke?" Sakura asked him. "Hurting a girl's feelings and making her feel foolish for believing you were actually genuine is not a joke... do you know how hard it was for me to tell her what you're really like, that you didn't actually like her, you were just messing with her?"

"Look, it was stupid," he sighed, jumping and landing beside her once more. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well, you tell her that next time you see her," she quipped. "Maybe she'll forgive you."

"Fine, mama bear, I will." he sighed, placing a heavy hand on her shoulder. "As usual, you're blowing this way out of proportion."

She shoved his hand away and crossed her arms. "I told you what was bothering me, wasn't that the deal? Now stop bugging me for the rest of the trip."

With that she jumped away again, not slowing down, leaving Sasuke to stare after her.

Kami, that girl. She drove him absolutely crazy.

...

They set up camp and Team 7 had fallen into a not so easy silence. Sasuke had been true to his word and let Sakura alone, but the tension from before was still sizzling in the air as they went about their tasks. It was all standard teenage shit for Kakashi, but Menma was always uncomfortable with any sort of discourse, especially between his only two friends, and found himself actually missing their bickering. This competitive silence was somehow worse.

Once they all settled around the fire, Menma had calculated that no one had spoken for an hour and twenty-three minutes. While he was a quiet fellow, himself, this was just ridiculous. He turned to Kakashi with a pleading look.

Do something, Sensei!

But the silver-haired jonin was looking over their map, planning for the next morning, quite content with the silence, no matter how awkward it was. Menma turned to his right to see Sakura at the farthest end of the fire, her nose in her book, legs crossed and body pivoted away from them all. To his left sat Sasuke, sharpening his kunai, a full pout on his face as he watched Sakura's back. Menma had never seen him so grumpy. Though bothering Sakura was his lifeblood, being cut off for even an hour seemed to have negative effects.

Menma, knowing it was up to him to break the ice, squeezed his cookie bag in dread. He hated bringing attention to himself, but if it was for the good of his team, he would do it. He glanced around before choosing the member of his squad he currently liked best to try to engage with. While it was a wide known fact that Sasuke was his best friend, Sakura-chan was very pretty.

Plus she had kissed him that morning, he still felt it burning beneath his skin.

"How is your book, Sakura-chan?" he chirped, feeling blood rush to his cheeks. The sound of his soft, raspy voice was like a piano crashing from the sky on top of them all. He felt Sasuke's glare burning a hole in the back of his head and realized that he may have betrayed a rule of comradery between them that he had been unaware of. Apparently, if the Uchiha wasn't talking to Sakura, he wasn't allowed to talk to her either.

Forgive me, brother!

Sakura lowered her book and gave him a rare sweet smile over her shoulder. "It's a work of genius." she sighed dreamily. "The hero just proposed to his dying lover."

"Oh, that's um... nice," Menma replied, though he wasn't sure if it was. He wasn't one for reading, and certainly couldn't manage a thick romance novel without dying from secondhand embarrassment, but Sakura never went on a mission without one. It was the funny riddle of her being for her teacher and teammates, that someone as cold and crass as the village Ice Queen read sappy paperbacks.

Sasuke scoffed from behind, but Menma didn't even dare to face him. "There's one more cookie, if you want it, Sakura-chan." he offered, holding out the crumpled bag once more. If he was going to have to speak, he might as well try and get another kiss for his efforts. Sakura beamed and not only accepted his offer, but set aside her book before rising and coming to sit beside him. "Thanks, Menma." she beamed, making him turn a full shade of scarlet. "You are so thoughtful."

That set the Uchiha off, he tossed his kunai aside and rose to his full height. "Why does she get the last cookie?"

"I-I uh..."

"You don't have to explain yourself to him, Menma." Sakura told him firmly, placing a hand on his shoulder, making his soul leave his body a little. "Despite what he thinks, he's not the boss of you."

"Oh, wow," Sasuke started to laugh, thoroughly pissed off now, but refusing to acknowledge her before she acknowledged him. "Real nice, Uzumaki, leaving me high and dry for a pretty face."

"Sorry..." the blond began, feeling awful.

"Don't apologize to him!" Sakura exclaimed. “Like he’s one to talk.”

“Look, here’s a little free advice, Menma.” Sasuke went on regardless. “Cute as she is, she’s just going to chew you up and spit you out, there are a lot of way nicer girls around.”

Menma felt Sakura’s hand squeeze his shoulder unintentionally and knew that comment had more than stung the kunoichi. He felt something foreign in his chest flare up all of sudden.

“Sakura-chan is nice!” he told him, taking a tone with his friend he never had before. “She’s always nice to me!”

“Only cause it serves a purpose.” Sasuke rolled his eyes, unsure how the kid could be so clueless.

“Kami, you really are the most arrogant, hypocritical, egotistical, delusional fuck boy to ever grace the planet!” Sakura all but screamed at such an accusation. It was all she could do to not send a fist into his nose.

“Ah, there she is!” Sasuke grinned triumphantly.

Kakashi sighed, looking toward the heavens. It had been such a glorious hour and a half. Perhaps he had summoned some sort of karma for foolishly hoping to finish his work before they both started back up again.

“You’re such a horrid friend to him, do you know that?” she stood up and strode right up to the boy that loomed over her about a good seven inches. “You’re always telling him what to do and making him feel like he’s second best to you.”

“Yeah, well it’s better than you not even letting him speak up for himself.” he pointed out. “Stop trying to be everyone’s mother.”

“Excuse me?” she asked, placing her hands on her hips.

“Look, if you’re so concerned about Menma and his feelings, then why don’t stop using him as fuel to get to me?”

“Oh, get over yourself, Sasuke!”

“That’s enough!” Kakashi intervened. He considered himself an even-tempered man, but he could only take so much of the ongoing saga of Sasuke and Sakura. Honestly, he’d come to wish they’d get it over with and just fuck or do each other in. The older they got the more their bickering and sexual tension was getting out of hand. “Both of you, go blow off some steam, Sakura go North, Sasuke go South, I don’t want to see either of you back here until you can both be amiable comrades to one another and stop pulling Menma into the middle of your immature spats.”

“But, Sensei…”

“Now, Sakura!” He commanded, pointing his finger, making her huff as she grabbed her bag and leaped off.

“Whatever.” Sasuke shrugged, turning and taking her leave as well, leaving the silver hair ninja with his remaining student. He ruffled his blond hair tiredly. “What are we going to do with them, huh, Menma?”

“Don’t know, Sensei.” he shrugged. “They really hate each other, don’t they?”

Kakashi’s mouth formed a line. “If only it were that simple.”

…

Sakura knew it was stupid to think that Sasuke would, for once, listen to Kakashi and actually put some distance between them, but she would have liked at least a second to herself.

“You’re really something else, you know that?” he asked coming up behind her.

“Didn’t you hear Sensei? You’re supposed to go South.” she shot back heatedly, storming off faster, knowing it was pointless. If there was one thing she’d admit that Sasuke had on her it was speed. He was soon walking alongside her.

“Who cares what he says?” he huffed. “I’m not done with you yet.”

“Yeah, well I’m done with you.” she retorted.

“No, you don’t get to call me out on leading your friend on, when you’re doing the same thing to Menma, and then call me a hypocrite,” he told her. “That’s not how it works.”

She stopped abruptly and turned to face him. “I’m not leading him on.”

His face went deadpan at that, before taking on a persona that she assumed was herself.

“Oh, Menma-kun, I’d love a cookie!” he gushed as high as his deep voice would let him go. “You’re so sweet! You’re so thoughtful! I’m not just using you to get under Sasuke’s skin at all!”

She turned and kept walking at that, enraged that he would make such an accusation, and even more so because he was not completely wrong either.

“Ever thought about how that will make Menma feel?” he asked. “You know how he feels about you.”

“What are you talking about?” she stopped and turned around.

“He’s in love with you!” Sasuke exclaimed as if she were an idiot.

Sakura felt something snap like a twig somewhere inside her. “No, he’s not.”

“Yes, he is.” Sasuke nodded reassuringly.

“No, he’s not.”

“Yes he is!” he nearly yelled in exasperation “Most men are! Have you seen yourself?”

“...Kami” she whispered slowly, wishing the earth would just swallow her up right then and there. She hadn’t realized that Menma had a crush on her, let alone loved her. How could someone who spent so much time with her be in love with her? That was insane.

She thought of all the times she had sent him attention just to spur Sasuke and never felt so low. While it was not often and never harmless, it was flirty and could have easily made him feel that she was interested in something more than friendship. She was no better than the Uchiha,

“Yeah, it’s true, so stop playing with his feelings.”

As guilty as she felt, she couldn’t bring herself to admit defeat to him, not three times in one day. She’d make things right with Menma, but Sasuke didn’t have to know that. “Maybe I’m not playing.” she shrugged coyly, turning and continuing on her way.

“...what?” Sasuke muttered in confusion.

“Maybe I’m in love with him too,” she suggested with raised palms. “I mean…”

Sasuke was suddenly in front of her, making her almost walk head first into his broad chest. “You’re not in love with Menma,” he stated as if it were the most basic fact of life, like the rising and the setting of the sun.

“Why not?” she asked with a raised brow, genuinely asking herself as much as she was asking him. Why hadn’t she ever thought of Menma as something more? “He’s handsome, considerate, sensitive and always good to me, why wouldn’t I be in love with him?”

“Because you’re in love with me,” Sasuke told her just as simply. “That’s why.”

She stared up at him, lips parting wordlessly at such a claim. Where there was a snap before now felt like she had been struck by a bolt of lightning. To her surprise, as well as his, she began to laugh. She laughed so hard she bent over, hugging herself around her middle. Sasuke remained stoic, emitting only a small smile when anyone else would have been more than wounded.

“I’m not in love with you, Sasuke.” she told him when she straightened up and caught her breath. Where had the clueless bastard got that idea? He was just watching her with a knowing, adoring look in his eye, his hands tucked snuggly in his pockets. She tilted her head up so that she was looking directly into his eyes. “I hate you.”

Honestly, what planet had he been living on?

Suddenly he took her face gently into his hands and made her still, all mirth and smugness abandoning her. She stared up at him in shock, eyes wide and sparkling in the darkness as he kept her there, not two inches from his face. Blood rushed to her face so fast that it felt as if she were burning alive from the inside. Why was everything so quiet all of a sudden?

“What was that, Sakura?” he asked with an easy smile, seeing everything he needed to see, rolling her name around the way he knew drove her crazy. “I didn’t quite hear you.”

“I-I said,” she breathed out shakily, wondering what the hell was wrong with her voice. It sounded so soft and unsure. Like it was someone else’s entirely.

He had caught her off guard with this play. Nothing in her body was working like it was supposed to. Damn it! Why did he have to be so fucking beautiful? And tall? And sexy?

It wasn’t fair.

But, it didn’t prove anything, she assured herself. He was Sasuke. Everyone was attracted to him one way or another. That’s the only effect he had. Attraction wasn’t love. She wasn’t in love with him. In fact, this only made her more angry at him. If she could feel her hands she would have sent a fist straight into his perfect jawline.

She swallowed thickly. “I said, I hate…”

Kami, was he going to kiss her?

She stiffened as she felt his thumb brush along her cheekbones as he loomed over her all the closer, his hot breath spilling over her face.

“What?” he hummed softly. “Go on, say it.”

She stared at his lips, contemplative for a moment of what it would be like to kiss someone, but quickly remembered just who she was dealing with and snapped her gaze back to his dark eyes, so close now she could count his lashes.

“I hate you.” she whispered, her eyes darkening, it was hard to breathe at this angle he held her. But, she did it. She got it out.

She won.

He smiled then, looking so pleased that for a moment she wondered if she had said the wrong thing. The opposite thing.

He leaned forward ever so slightly, hands slipping down to her neck, and she nearly jumped out of her skin, but his lips took an alternate route gently and brushed over the hollow of her cheek, the same place she had bestowed a kiss to Menma for his sweets.

He pulled back and she watched him, flushed and frustrated by his brash action and by the burning in her face centering around the focal point where he had touched her.

“You too, Sakura-chan.” he told her with a wink before turning and going on his way, leaving her alone like she wanted.

#ssmonth2019 #ssm19 #ssmd2 #sasusaku #rtn au #road to ninja au #sasuke and sakura

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ifollowfugo · 5 years

Note

Uh so i'm having a rough time... can i get some fluffy angst of brunos gang finding out their gn s/o has been self harming? ive been trying to not but i just gave up,,,,, ;;

Okay, I have some things to say before you can go on to the scenarios. Please, don’t give up. Not about this, not about anything. Nothing is impossible, everything has a solution, and I’m so sorry you can’t see it right now but it is out there. I wrote this thinking about you because I saw this when you sent it but I wanted to take my time with it. Whenever you need to be reminded that someone cares about you, I’m here. Hit my ask box, my private messages, I’m here. If you can, please try to get professional help. I know, that is always my advice, but it is one of the really useful things there are to be done. I would really appreciate if you could tell me how you are doing. If you want to, you can do it anonymously through my ask box and ask me not to publish it, I won’t. And there was another anon struggling too, are you still there? If you are, I would like to know how you’re holding up too.

Now, this is a sensitive subject we’re dealing with here. If you don’t want to read it, please continue your scrolling.

Bruno was going to his s/o’s house to give them a surprise, he bought tickets to a movie he knew they wanted to see. When he arrived, he took out the key they gave him and closed the door behind him after entering the building. He is so excited he couldn’t even contain the huge smile it provoked him. Until he heard the whimpers, that is.

He made his way through the place following the sounds, unmistakably theirs. He worried for a moment, why where they in so much pain? He approached the bathroom door very subtly, not wanting to make any noise in case there was an enemy, he wouldn’t want to lose the advantage. And then, he looked in the small room, and something inside him broke. The scene developing in front of his eyes was unbearable. The blood, their face, the wounds all over their body, he can’t believe it. He rushed to their side, sticky fingers treating the cuts so they wouldn’t lose any more blood, yelling at them to please, stay with him.

Hours later, after everything was cleaned and their energy was restored, Bruno’s worried expression made them feel a weight on their chest, they would never want to see that face any less than smiling again. But they knew it was their fault, so they attempted to explain. Bruno listened, but his mind was worried about what he had to tell them. Exactly what words he had to use to make the comprehend there’s no need for such measures.

“Tesoro, I love you so much, it pains me greatly to know you are feeling like this. Please, would you consider letting me get you a good doctor? I don’t mean to intrude in your life, but I don’t want to lose you, and sometimes we need a little push. Please, I’m begging you, don’t you ever think you need to hide this from me. Let me share that burden, take some weight off your shoulders. Life was never meant to be lived alone, and no problem can be solved in solitude. Let me be the reason you wake up and feel like life is worth living. Please, let me show you everything your life could be, together we can find happiness. What do you say?”

***

Abbacchio was fairly familiar with depression. Finding a reason to go on was one of the hardest things he ever had to do. He knows is hard for other people to deal with it, they tend to feel uncomfortable when dealing with people coping with it, and it makes it even harder. He knows. But he never expected to find that he couldn’t notice it in others.

Everyone copes with their different issues in different ways. He attempted to separate himself from the world, only to find that this was no solution to his problem. Only when he found a safe space amongst other people was he able to find some kind of peace of mind. And yet, as close as he felt with them, he failed to notice the small but present scars on their body. Some looked old, some looked too fresh. Some hadn’t even scarred yet.

They were both in bed, the tv with some old movie they had seen a thousand times before on., everything was so normal, so everyday-like. And yet, running his hand through their body, discovering the evidence of their illness, nothing felt normal. He felt so impotent. He needed to cry, yell, break stuff. He felt angry, but only at his inability to see it and offer his help, his shoulder, his ear. He had gotten better when he found them, but now that they were feeling bad he hadn’t even had the chance to try and help.

Softly, he decided to talk to them. He wasn’t going to talk about their personal stuff, they would talk to him when they were ready. He knew forcing them was only going to make it worse. But he also knew they needed it, so he made himself available.

“You know, I absolutely get what that feels like.” He gestured the most recent cuts. “I’m not saying it’s okay, I’m just saying I get it. But you don’t have to go through it alone. I’m here, and I’m always going to be here.”

Words didn’t come easy for him, but he made his point clear and kissed them to make them feel loved, only to make his point clearer.

***

Mista had the habit of not asking if he could come by, he just did. He knew their time table for every day, so he knew when they’d be home. He popped up on the weirdest of hours, secretly hoping to catch them doing something embarrassing or hot. But he would have never expected what he encountered.

It’s not that he found them doing anything. They were asleep, but it was a hot day and it turns out they like to sleep on their underwear on hot days. At first, it seemed like it would be fun to scare them, but as he got closer, he noticed the red lines and spots on places generally clothed. He examined them as well as he could, looking for some clue to tell him it wasn’t what he thought. But it was, and nothing could now convince him of the contrary.

He got on the bed, carefully spooning them, and decided he’d take a nap right there, and wait for them to wake up so he could question them, he wouldn’t want them to be scared when he discussed what he saw. f course, that plan didn’t go as he thought. They had gone to sleep alone and now they weren’t alone, it scared the shit out of them. Their screams alerted Mista too, but everything calmed after he explained what had happened.

He addressed the issue properly, unlike most of the stuff he does. He is a goofy guy, ut is completely able to get serious when needed.

“Babe, why resort to that sort of thing? If you were feeling so bad, why didn’t you say anything? You don’t need to bear everything on your own. You know I adore you and I would never judge you for this, it wasn’t your choice, and is not something pretty either. I want to be here for you all the time. Do you think, maybe, you could talk to me about it? Whatever it is, we can sort it.”

He held them in his arms and placed soft kisses everywhere he could reach, the pistols doing the same wherever he couldn’t. He wanted them to know he was there, and he wasn’t leaving.

***

Narancia was not a particularly observant fellow. He rushed through everything so he never noticed small things, like the almost imperceptible details, changes in them that could have alerted him of their mental state.

He was making his way home when he saw something he thought his s/o would really like, and, being the impatience person he is, he wanted to get it to them right away. So he ran through the streets of Napoli, only one goal in his mind, only one place to be. He arrived panting and breathless, but nevertheless happy to be able to give them this gift. He rang the bell, so he could continue with the surprise, not wanting to just get inside. But when they opened the door, he saw them crying. These weren’t small tears, this wasn’t the kind of cry you let out when you need to unwind. This was desperate crying, their whole face red and puffy, their voice was gone. He got inside and followed them to the couch. And then, he saw the marks on their skin.

He fell to his knees, gift falling from his hands unimportant. His throat suddenly clogged by a knot, his thoughts unable to untangle. Them, the love of his short life, feeling like that. He knew it just meant they needed him more than ever. He didn’t want to admit he may have been going through life too fast, not realizing their struggles until it was too late. But it wasn’t too late. He could still do something.

“Baby, my love, please tell me what can I do for you.” He didn’t know what to do, nothing trained him for that situation. He hadn’t experienced that kind of pain and darkness before, but he wanted to make himself useful, not wanting to accept that was their life. “I’m taking it upon myself to change your days for the better. I promise you, you will never feel this sadness again as long as I’m here by your side.”

***

Fugo understands feeling overwhelmed sometimes. This can lead to anxiety, panic attacks, and depression. But he didn’t know this was how they felt. He was really observant and meticulous, but their way of coping wasn’t the usual sadness and brooding. They were different. If you saw them from a distance, you would have never been able to tell they were struggling. Their smile continued to shine, their laugh continued to resonate in every room. whenever he’d see them staring at nothing, or a tear going down their eye, he always thought it was just some minor inconvenience. It turns out, it wasn’t.

He may have never known real peace and accomplishment if it wasn’t for them. They appeared in this hard part of his life, where he had to push forward, like going up a hill where someone up there is tossing stuff at you. It was hard, and he would have never done it if it wasn’t for their true love and support. No one can go through this alone, he learned at last.

As both of them were having a nice time together, him reading a book out loud and them listening to his absolutely perfect voice, he found himself feeling a little warm, and decided to take his jacket off when he realized they were still wearing long sleeves. He tried to argue it was getting hot and they could faint or something but to no avail. And that got him suspicious. After a lot of bickering, he finally got them to show him what they were hiding, and it wasn’t pretty.

Knowing Fugo’s observant nature, they had gotten some bandages in order to not get the shirt stained with blood, as the wounds were fairly new. But what was under them was horrifying. Fugo’s heart broke. He wanted to yell at them, but for once, he fought the urgency knowing it wouldn’t help in that situation. Not caring about smearing the blood on his clothes, he hugged them tightly. His voice wouldn’t come out for a while, so he hugged them and let them cry for some time. Whatever they needed.

When he was finally able to speak, he tried to make his point as loud as he could, but he failed. In what seemed like a whisper, he muttered:

“Amore, bella mia, I can’t believe I never noticed you were going through this. You don’t deserve this, and it brings me incredible sadness to know it is happening anyway. The world is an unfair place, and as such doesn’t care whether good people are suffering, but I do. I don’t want you to feel lonely and broken anymore. I understand that sometimes one feels overwhelmed with everything, and need to let something out. Please, know that I’m here to support you in any way you need. I will offer you the tools to find a will to continue fighting again. I swear, anytime you call me, no matter what I’m doing, I will pick up. If you need me here, I’ll come from wherever I am. You are the most important thing in my life, and I’m not going to let you suffer alone anymore.”

***

Giorno arranged a beautiful evening in a hotel room for him and his love. They were going to have the most exquisite dinner, and maybe they could go swimming later, the warm water of the pool relieving his muscles. It had been going great, with the small detail of them being a little quieter than normal. Giorno knew it wasn’t a good sign, but he decided to address it some other time when they were alone. He only grew more worried when they refused to go swimming. The hotel pool was beautiful, they were completely alone, and it’s not something they hadn’t done before, he knows they love swimming.

As he pressed the subject, he found resistance from their part, he wasn’t expecting it. Something was upsetting them and they wouldn’t talk to him, he didn’t want that. He didn’t want to force them either, but he wanted to help them. If they needed to, he would listen for hours, get anything they need, create as many puppies as they needed, wipe away any tears. He wanted to be a part of them to the same extent they were of him.

Finally, they caved in. Something inside them told them they had to tell him. They needed to let it out, they couldn’t keep it to themselves anymore. Giorno listened and observed, serious as ever. But not because he felt nothing, but because he was feeling like he could faint any minute. He had no idea this was happening right under his nose.

“My lovely (Name), why did you never come to me? You know I would have helped you. I would have listened. I would have never judged you. My heart lies with you, and if I lost you there would be no part of me to build myself from again. Please, let me get you I touch with a professional, you know you need it. And I know it can be scary and difficult to come to terms with what is going on with you, but you need to do something about it before it conquers over the beautiful person you are. This does not define you, you can change this with some effort. It won’t be easy, I won’t lie to you. But it can be done. And I’m going to be with you every step of the way.”

The swim was amazing, as everything was with Giorno.

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papa-rhys · 5 years

Text

New Dawn: Where are they now?

Here are my headcanons for what Hope County folk would be up to in New Dawn (if they all survived). I stuck to main characters (catergory 1 and 2) for this and I didn’t count anyone who died in fc5 canon because there’s 100% no chance they’d be in New Dawn and this is meant to be a “what I expect from X character if they appear in ND” thing. If I missed any important people out, then let me know and I’ll see about adding them in!

Holland Valley

Mary May Fairgrave: Lives in Prosperity, even though she doesn’t enjoy it as she can’t quite shake the thought that John used to live there. She runs a makeshift bar in the kitchen. She tells everyone that it’s because it boosts the morale of the people living there, but really it’s because she misses the connection that the Spread Eagle had to her parents. She grew up behind the bar, so in the first 10 or so years after the bombs fell, when she was kept away from the Spread Eagle, she didn’t feel like herself. Making her own replica of the Spread Eagle in John’s old kitchen makes her feel like she’s a little closer to home.

Jerome Jeffries: In charge of Prosperity. He lead a few people to John’s ranch to look for shelter after they crawled out of their bunkers and as the group has steadily grown in size, they all look to him as the founder/man in charge. He doesn’t like to sit indoors and let people do his bidding though, so if he sends someone out on a supply run or a job, he’ll likely go with them. Otherwise, he feels like a bossy control freak who doesn’t care about his people and just has them running around and working themselves to the bone for him. It makes him feel too much like Joseph and he obviously hates that.

Casey Fixman: Casey still cooks for the people of Prosperity primarily (also sending nice home cooked meals to the Wolf’s Den once a week as a treat for the remaining Whitetails), but he also provides valuable knowledge about combat and the inner workings of human beings. He’s a very knowledgeable guy and Jerome can often be found having hush-hush meetings with him behind the kitchen whenever Jerome needs advice on how to handle a problem.

Nick Rye: Nick looks after the kids of Prosperity. He doesn’t fly much anymore as he’s found happiness in other things, like spending time with his family and looking out for the children that were born into this new world. He finds it incredibly rewarding to give them some kind of normality in the form of reading to them or playing hopscotch with them in the grass – things that he believes all kids should do.

Kim Rye: Kim works with Nick as a duo. Whilst he has fun with the kids, she gives them an education. She teaches them basic things, like reading, writing, maths (the important bits), etc. But she also teaches them basic (and age-appropriate) combat. Among other things, she teaches them how to hold a knife, how to fire a gun, and how to break free if someone grabs them. She loves working with the kids and takes pride in knowing that she’s helping them to stay safe. Nick is also super proud of the work she does and tells her everyday, of course.

Carmina Rye: Much to Kim and Nick’s misery, Carmina is a total brawler and is always desperate to go out on runs with the supply team. She wants to explore the world outside the walls of Prosperity and meet new people, often sneaking out of Prosperity and scaring her parents to death. She gets into trouble with Hudson a lot, mainly for silly teenage pranks or generally causing trouble. She likes Wheaty a whole lot and always finds an excuse to go with the trading team when they deliver things to the Wolf’s Den. She denies that it’s a crush, but it 100% is. Safe to say Nick doesn’t like Wheaty much anymore.

Grace Armstrong: Grace runs an adult combat training program. The kids get basic training from Kim, but once they get to a certain age, they move up to the adult tier, where Grace will give them full training. Including, but not limited to: how to use all types of firearm, how to properly use knives, how to fight without weapons, how to free yourself from restraints, different signals used in combat (and what they mean), and how to stealth kill. She’s basically doing the same job as Jacob, except she does it way better than he ever could.

Joey Hudson: Hudson is still a cop! She’d live in Prosperity and she’d patrol the place and make sure that everyone is getting on okay. She’d handle any arguments and disputes that people had, because even though they’re all on the same side, they’re still bound to fight. So she keeps the peace. She has a shorter fuse these days and has a tendency to get mad at people pretty quickly sometimes, but everyone knows what she went through and they cut her some slack, knowing that she doesn’t mean any harm.

Whitetail Mountains

Tammy Barnes: Tammy lives in the Wolf’s Den and still does the same kind of stuff. She “handles” what’s left of the cultists and still looks after Wheaty (who is now 36 years old and still doesn’t do his own laundry). She’s toned it down with the torture in recent years though, and has more time to do mundane things (like cooking, cleaning, and spending time with Wheaty) which she finds a lot of solace in doing. She also managed to find her true calling – knitting copious amounts of scarfs that Wheaty wouldn’t be caught dead in, although he appreciates the sentiment.

Wheaty: Wheaty now runs what’s left of the Whitetail Militia out of the Wolf’s Den. He went straight to the bunker when the bombs hit and after things had settled, he focused his efforts on rounding up as many of the remaining Whitetails as he could, desperate to hold onto Eli’s legacy. Now he trades with Prosperity and offers the help of his men and women should Prosperity ever need it (and vice-versa). When he’s not swamped with work and making sure his people are safe as they scavenge for supplies, he’s winding down by watching old tapes of Eli’s favourite TV show or home videos of Eli and his family celebrating Christmas or birthdays. He also still enjoys his music; often playing records for Tammy - the same ones that the Deputy collected for him all those years ago.

Hurk Jr: Still resides in Fort Drubman, which he’s built upon and fortified since his dad’s death. He doesn’t really do much outside of shooting at beer bottles and setting off rockets in his backyard, which he claims to have a good reason for beyond “it’s a whole heap of fun, amigo.” He occasionally works as a hired gun, helping out on supply runs for the Whitetail Militia whenever they need someone a little more… “heavy-handed.” In exchange, they give him a fraction of the supplies that were found (which is increased if he sustains an injury on the run). Other than that, he’s all about “kicking back and gettin’ buzzed, man.”

Jess Black: Jess lives in the wilderness, setting up her camp in a different place each night. She makes an effort to stay pretty clear of other people, suspecting that human beings have only gotten more dangerous since the end of the world. Tammy gets in contact with her from time to time, just to make sure she’s okay (after Eli and Dutch died, Tammy took on the responsibility of checking in on Jess), but other than that, Jess rarely has contact with people. She dedicates all of her time to surviving in the wilderness and any spare time that she has is spent on hunting and crafting. I could see her sat in front of a campfire crafting arrows or cooking a rabbit for her dinner. She doesn’t really care for anything else and is more than happy to live a secluded life alone in the forests of Hope County.

Staci Pratt: Pratt needs something calm, easy, and mundane ever since his brains were scrambled by Jacob. He can’t handle stress anymore and isn’t safe enough to be in combat or unsupervised around people. So he assists Casey in the kitchen, cooking food for Prosperity, which he enjoys more than he thought he would. In his spare time, he likes to read – mainly because it helps him to practice focusing his mind. He struggles picking out individual thoughts, often jumbling things together and getting stressed out by it. So reading a book and forcing himself to take time focusing on each individual sentence is really helpful for him. He also enjoys the escapism and seeing characters get happy endings. Other than reading, he likes spending time with friends; especially Hudson, who he feels very connected to after going through similar things.

Henbane River

Earl Whitehorse: He tried to secure the prison after getting out of his bunker, but it was too far gone, so he moved on to Prosperity. For a while, he acted as Sheriff of Prosperity, helping Hudson keep the peace in the ever-growing settlement. But he eventually began thinking of the apocalypse as his second chance. He figured that if he survived the war in Hope County, the Bliss, and then the nukes, then that has to mean something. And he didn’t want to waste his new lease of life on doing the same thing he’d been doing for the previous 30+ years. So now he spends most of his days fishing in the river behind Prosperity, providing fresh (albeit oddly coloured and disproportionate) fish for Casey to cook and providing himself with a taste of the well-deserved retirement that he never got to see.

Tracey Lader: Tracey has a whole lot of anger to share with her enemies (and people in general) so she found her place as a soldier. She acts as one of Jerome’s most trusted lieutenants and is second in command (and sometimes completely in charge, when Jerome isn’t there) of most of the supply run teams that are sent out. She debated going it alone like Jess for a while, but she ultimately likes human contact too much to live like that – no matter how annoying people can be sometimes. She’s pretty busy running the show for Jerome, so she doesn’t get much spare time, but when she does, she spends it in her room, brooding.

Sharky Boshaw: Sharky goes back and forth between locations; sometimes living in Prosperity, and sometimes living in Fort Drubman with Hurk. He still likes fire. A lot. But he contributes a little more to the grouthan he used to, using his “creative genius” (his words) to devise traps for enemies, ideally keeping said enemies as far away from the walls of Prosperity as possible. There’s sharpened branches, there’s tripwires, and most importantly; there’s fire. In his spare time, he messes around with Hurk, getting up to all kinds of trouble and not being inconspicuous in the slightest – much to Jerome’s dismay.

Adelaide Drubman: Adelaide is 83 years old now so it’s a miracle she’s still alive and you best believe she doesn’t let anybody forget it. She’s still rampantly horny, but doesn’t have the energy to keep up with her own needs anymore. So she spends most of her days messing with people around Prosperity; picking on them and getting a kick out of getting adverse reactions from them. She’s quite close with Carmina Rye (unfortunately for Nick and Kim), who keeps her feeling young, and Carmina finds her hilarious. The pair can often be found sat on the front steps of the former ranch, giggling at passers by and enjoying some time away from the destruction and misery.

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talesofealdancynedom · 3 years

Photo

Morgan and Emilia’s family portrait; things escalate quickly when magic is involved.

Familiars and fairy robes not included. From Left to Right: Cadence, Morgan, Calliope, Emilia, Patrick, and Artemis.

Tale 18: Patrick Monabellan & the Paladins (chapter 4 - Take Me 4/4) part 3. Stories of True Love

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Patrick put his feet up on the raw wood table, holding up empty tin tea ware and mead cups. Holly was holding on to consciousness, as his warmth, and the still evening, made her sleepy. Patrick continued his story, where he left off:

The reason father never took our family out much, was because his attempts at letting his children not be mages, if they chose, was futile. Like he knew we would all live in magic forests like him someday. Subjected to the same treatment wizards gave mages and fey, as him and his friends. Yet, father wanted us to have choices and chances, like he didn’t when he was our age. Father let all four of his children know what life outside a magic forest for a mage; and what many people think of old magic. Everyone in Pepperidge told us about the terrible acts wizards committed out of fear; not to dissimilar to scared fey. I was informed as to why: For some reason, once commoners had magic, they deemed us unnecessary. Perhaps, it was because mages were once forced into war against our peaceful nature, and have invincible fairy robes. Or maybe it’s our incredible abilities to heal, conjure, create mythical arms, and befriend fey as grand as dragons and royal wolves. These wizards have malice and hate, as they do not know and feel magic the same way. they are inspired by its wonder, and some, it’s power. To be rich, have clean water, make fire, and silk, with just a diagram or wand. But mages can do those things like breathing. wizards are ungrateful and hateful towards the very people born with a different sort of talent, who gave them their the ability to love magic alongside mages.

But those were just tales from historical books. My family lived on, and loved, Tiberius Gate too much to imagine any other life. The wizards were as kind as fey there; making father’s warnings but wives tales. The choice was nice though. I must say, here in Grand Snow, you know better; mages are too peaceful and enthralled in magic to feel malice, or dream of using it as a weapon. Father fought for the world to see mages as we are; and succeeded for the most part. Yet, he was still protective of us. He had seen and read too much of the ways of common folk. It would appear mages fear wizards as much as they feared us. The fact someone might hurt his friends and family, gave Father a lot of anxiety. More then the perils he might hiself.

Father was already a very anxious person; diagnosed with many things I believe. He didn’t talk about treatment much. At the time, Father’s catastrophizing only made him jitter more as the trip progressed. He held up remarkably well. I, as a child, had forgotten to consider father’s emotions and fears about my safety. That night I snuck out of the hotel, in a big city for the first time, I was in a state of awe in the presence of a paladin. I got caught in the chase. Thus, I was so disappointed when the paladins arrested me. When I said who my father was, in hopes they would take me back to my parents, they became panicked and took me to the nearest magic security office. I protested like an entitled child, by bragging that I was a mage paladin in training. They didn’t care; they put Orion in the trunk. They put. My familiar. In the confined, dark, dirty, compartment behind a vehicle. That was so illegal; mistreating a familiar I mean…. I could feel myself losing respect.

Back at the inn, Cadence was as light sleeper, and eventually noticed I had run off. Usually, a family friend would take me in, and scold me; but the Capitol was huge, and had no familiar faces. Cadence swiftly reported my absence to our father, who used a bonding charm on his eagle familiar, Icarus, to search for me. My parents must have been so scared; their child, could be lost, kidnapped or dead. Even if father tried to calm his thoughts, he easily caved to his fears; when he had fear. I’ve seen father stay serene while wizards cast hex fire at him, and it washes of over his fairy robes like he was water proof. But other lives at stake; that’s what really scared him. In desperation, my father went to the magic security station to seek assistance. Icarus couldn’t find me, because I was inside the paladin’s car. Eagle eye’s views can’t see through rooves.

My father was a sweating exhausted mess, when he dashed in with Icarus on his shoulder. It took him a minute to see me in the main area. I had been there only a few minutes. I was sitting under a flickering light, in a disintegrating lobby’s plastic chair, brooding with a half full bag of contraband candy. I was hugging Orion. A familiar is honestly a best friend magic user’s make. They feel our emotions and sensations, and we feel theirs. There is nothing like hugging a familiar; it’s like hugging yourself in your time of need when you are most alone. I was crying silently, because I couldn’t believe the paladins were going to take me into government custody. I was bound in the car, with enchanted rope that burned, and they had threatened to use potions on me because I was ‘dangerous’. To me, that wasn’t something heroes do. It made me not want to be a paladin anymore. I wasn’t illegal contraband; I was a child who was lost. I only noticed father when I heard him run quickly to my aid.

“You scared me to death! Where were you?” he whispered.

“I don’t think I can be a paladin” I whimpered. “I met these ones, and they said mages can’t go to the academy, or work for the counsel. Because we’re dangerous. And they threatened me, and bound me, even though I’m innocent. They even put Orion in a cage. If being a paladin outside of the village means being mean, abusing magic, and threatening mages; I don’t want to be one. I don’t even want to imagine how they treat fey.” I said; beginning to sob. Surrounded by the safety and joy of magic, and the dream of using it for peace, I could not grasp the idea that I was dangerous and hated. Or that magic could be used to threaten and hurt people and fey.

“Am I dangerous dad? Are we dangerous?” I asked looking at him. He was kneeling to my level, whipping the tears off my face. He dove in, to embrace me and Orion.

“No Patrick, we’re not. their focusing on magic, and it’s not magic that’s bad, it’s the people who abuse it. However, people still don’t understand what mages do, because they whipped us out, and made nefarious legends about us. We protect, inform, study and aid people; like they do in their magical professions.” He said, He lifted me out of the chair and took my hand. “I warned you how different it is outside of Pepperidge, and I understand living in a small town, makes big things seem distant; I brought you here with me to see it safely. And I work hard, so you don’t have to experience things like this. I’m sorry. That said, you can’t just run off into a city at night; not even adults do that.” Father said.

“What am I going to do know?” I murmured, as he signed some papers.

“You should still follow your dreams. I’m not going to stop you, or control you like my parents did. And don’t let people like those corrupt paladins, tell you how to feel about the world. Lots of people did that to me, but I held on, and eventually I was in a safe place; I got a supportive home that let me follow my dreams. My dreams are to give you that; everyone that.” father sighed. “Now, no more running off at night ok? You’re not a paladin yet.” He snapped. He looked so tired. His voice sounded like it was filled with genuine sorrow; As if I had reminded him of something painful. It tapered with the crackle of justified anger.

Before me and my father left, the chief paladin approached us at the front desk. Father and son, with familiars, in pajamas, looking so pitifully sad his bias almost budged for a second.

“You must be Morgan Cynedom, this boy’s father I presume? We found him stalking us. Talented detective you’ve bred. Keep your kind away from the people of the Capitol. I don’t care about your lectures, or if our lead paladin is one of you; I can’t confirm you’re not a threat. Call me old fashioned. To think what he may have done to my men.” He scorned, gesturing at me. I was a quarter his size. Father stood up to confront him, glowing as if about to go dark in his rage. Which would have teleported us to the shadow veil, so bless he had years of therapy. But I had never seen him so livid.

“He’s eight. He hasn’t even been to magic school. There is no way a child could be of any caliber to damage anything. Particularly full-grown paladins. Mages or not. Look at him, he’s an adorable wolf puppy who was playing around in the streets for a game. We live in a small village that isn’t full of people like you. He didn’t know any better. I was scared sick, and not because of a predator, but because people like you are in this city.” He snapped. Father grabbed me by the hand again, and stormed out of the station. We jumped onto Icarus, and headed back to the inn.

I have never felt so guilty in my life. Paladins, who I aspired to be like, were bigots; and I had burdened my whole family. Just because I wanted to play a little game. But when I was riding Icarus that night, with my dad, I realized my embarrassing father was a hero; and he never left his library or fought dragons. Father loved me, and had done nothing but try to make me happy, and I neglected that. It made me want to be more like that kind of paladin; one that is unwavering, calm, and kind, in the face of threats. Someone that knows magic’s value, and appreciates it. I wanted to be a paladin that lives somewhere small, and doesn’t always need a sword or mystic rope to save people. There is more to being a magic protector then that.

It still felt like my dreams were destroyed. The innocent way I saw the world shattered; It felt like a big deal at the time. I think my parents could tell. I was not scolded as bad as I had thought I deserved. Instead, father asked if I wanted to sleep with him and mom that night. I was still small enough my dad could carry me into their room. Mother was on the bed in tears. She was not easy to break. I learned my lesson. My father handed me to her, and she rocked me in her arms. I had begun to settle, and cling to her. In the moment, I was unaware that what had happened to me was actually really scary.

“What happened honey?” Mother asked.

“The paladins were bad men, and I’m too dangerous to be the kind of knight I want to be. They were so scary, mom. What if when I grow up, they’re right, and I am dangerous? Or I turn out like them? Dad say’s I shouldn’t give up, but I’m really sad.” I whispered, curling up between my parents under the bed.

“That’s too bad,” She said. “They just don’t know that you’d make an awesome addition to their pack. Even if your sad, you’ve learned something; what not to be like. As you said, you are still so young; I’m sure you can have more dreams, or even achieve that one. I had to adjust my life plans more times than I’d like to admit. Sometimes, things don’t turn out to be the way you imagined; but it turns out to be ok.” Mother whispered, turning off the lamp. Her comforting words rested my mind nearly enough to sleep. That was some genuinely good advice I’ve held onto. I had one last question for dad, he had all the answers;

“Dad, what is it called when a mage does what a paladin does?” I said nodding off. But he didn’t answer, because by then, we were asleep. The next morning, I answered it myself. Melida was a mage, and we all called her a paladin; because she was one. Amadeus was Paladin, and my dad was a seer, and Ouroboros is heartmann; just like the Wizards who do those jobs too, with their type of magic. There isn’t any difference at all. It wasn’t me; it was people who didn’t know that because of bedtime stories.

Holly was almost asleep, nuzzling into Patrick’s tunic. He was falling asleep too; The story made him feel comfortable about being in Grand Snow again. He liked that he followed his parent’s advice.

“Mother didn’t give ups sleeping potions on the way home.” Patrick snickered.

“I don’t want to hear that one yet, I don’t think I’ll stay awake for It.” Holly said. She had wrapped her arms around him. “I like that you’re still that boy.” she added.

“How so?” He laughed.

“You got the job of your dreams, and didn’t give up. You’re a paladin; using your gifts well. Your eyes still sparkle at the sight of magic, even though you see it every day. Wandering the slopes for fun, even at night, like you always did. You are somewhere that isn’t quite what you imagined ten years ago, but that’s ok. I loved that story. I wonder if your father worries about you. Even when he knows your here.” She said. “maybe not. I think you’re wrong; he doesn’t sound like a dork at all. He sounds brave, smart, and kind.”

“I don’t think father worries either; we write. I visit through the Dragon Gate, which leads into the shadow veil where time and distance is meaningless. The door to my home in Tiberius Gate, is right there in the center of the magical either, for any mage to use. Though I’m not aloud too… Because I need to protect you.” he whispered calmly. It felt good to be ok with how things turned out. It felt good to remember something that was bad, that is now beautiful and warm.

TABLE OF CONTENTS --->

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#art #tales of ealdan cynedom #story 18 #short stories #fantasy #morgan #emilia #icarus #oron #patrick #holly #cadence #calliope #artemis

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snowmadien · 7 years

Text

The Dragon and his Fairy

Chapter 3

The dragon and his Fairy

Hope everyone enjoys this newest chapter!

Rated T

Hades looked out towards his kingdom, it was dying, and the people were on the verge of a revolution. He needed a way to make sure that not only they wouldn’t but remain loyal enough to fight for him.

“Your Highness, Azuma and Zancrow are back!” A servant announced.

“Bring them in,” He ordered. He was in no mood to be disappointed today. He heard the doors open and close with the sound of footsteps on the rich red carpet.

“Did you get the wings?” He asked, not even turning to acknowledge the two men.

“Your grace, we had a bit of a problem with obtaining the wings that you have requested-” Azuma began

“What do you mean problem!?” He roared. Both men ducked their heads in fear, not wanting to look up at their king “She was the weakest out of the four but also the closest to the Ancient Fairy Queen Mavis! So explain to me how do you not have her wings?”

“We didn’t expect the fairy to use Fairy Ravine on us, sir! Even with the magic canceling ropes, she managed to cast one of the grand Fairy spells! She escaped to the Northern Iron Kingdom and-” A wave of magic sent Azuma flying into the wall. Zancrow stood rooted to the ground, paralyzed with fear.

“You mean to tell me that a DRAGON has her!” His voice shook the castle causing loose stones to fall and walls to groan in protest. Zancrow didn’t utter a single word, not wanting to end up like his partner.

“WELL?” The king demanded.

“Yes,” Zancrow uttered, bracing for the punishment to follow. Hades sat down on his throne with waves of anger flowing off him.

“I want you both to gather the rest of the Seven Kin of Purgatory and kill that dragon! If he has her, I won’t be able to obtain the magic needed to conquer the surrounding lands or defeat any of the four dragon kingdoms!” He ordered.

“But sir, Blacksteel isn’t a dragon that anyone has defeated in centuries! To go after him would be suicide!” Zancrow protested. Hades’ magic threw Zancrow into the wall in sheer anger.

“Then get another dragon! I don’t care how you kill the beast, even go to the Wizard Zeref himself if you have to, but bring me that Fairy alive. I’ll rip her wings out myself since neither one of you are capable of doing so. Now go! We only have until the winter solstice, and that is in three months!” Neither Azuma or Zancrow needed to be told twice before they bolted out of the throne room, not looking back.

Hades stood up and walked over to the stone wall, pushing on one of the smooth black brick it and causing a secret door to open revealing a staircase. He walked down the long, narrow spiral staircase leading him down into a large room that contained an altar large enough for an average size person to lay on it. Laying on it, however, was not a human but two other artifacts. A dazzling unicorn’s horn and the pelt of a Cockatrice.

“Soon I would have all the magical artifacts to cast Grimoire law and the world shall be mine!” He yelled.

Gajeel and Lily both stared down at Levy with their jaws open.

Royal Fairies weren’t like typical fairies; they possessed powerful magic, and their wings were considered to be so valuable that wars have been fought to obtain even a sliver of it. The wings were often used in magic spells or even employed in potions that were too grand for human mages to cast alone.

She smiled sheepishly, “Yes, but I’m nothing like the others. My parents were often mad that I never could fight like Erza Scarlet or be able to control the water Juvia. I was gifted with script magic, but it isn’t that powerful. Being next in line for the throne I would have to be able to fight for my people, but my parents don’t see my magic as being able to do that.” She ended with a whisper. Deep down she was happy that this had happened to her. She wouldn’t have to deal with her parents every day brooding over her. Telling her that her magic was as worthless as the books she read to escape.

“I wouldn’t say that if I were you. Magic takes time to grow, you just don’t get strong overnight. So what if you can’t control water or fight doesn't make you any less of a fairy. Besides, I doubt you’ve really tapped into what your magic can do.” Gajeel encouraged. He didn’t think she was weak. Surviving something traumatic as that and still trying to live on was something he saw as being strong. He had heard the legends and stories of fairies capable of taking down dragons even more fearsome than Acnologia himself.

Levy felt a small blush creep up on her face. Lily lightly chuckled as he watched the two, even in dragon form he could see Gajeel’s scales turning pink from embarrassment. Though he did question as to why Gajeel had yet changed back into a human but decided to speak on the matter later.

“So Miss Levy, why is that you’re next in line for the throne? I thought that the four families ruled together?” Lily asked as he began to plate the food. Gajeel’s food, however, was still cooking on the open fire.

“Well, we were on the verge of a civil war. None of the families could agree on anything, leading to people fighting and whole villages being torn apart. So to come to an agreement, they decided that family closest to the Ancient Fairy Queen Mavis would rule.” She answered as Lily gave her a plate. Gajeel cursed internally here he thought he might be able to get away with keeping but if she was next in line someone would be bound to find her sooner or later.

“I didn’t peg you guys to be ones to even have a civil war considering that you always preach of peace,” Lily commented. Levy didn’t respond back, she didn’t want to talk about the situation anymore that plagued her kingdom

Lily looked out towards the cave entrance and noticed that he had stayed longer than he should have. The sky was turning pink and orange from the rising sun.

“Well, I must be on my way if I want to make it to the Wind Kingdom in five days,” Lily muttered as he began to eat. He had wanted to leave earlier, but he couldn’t help but make sure that at Levy was safe and not scared of Gajeel.

“Why are you going all the way out there?” Levy asked as she took another bite of her food. It was savory, the few herbs and spices he put in worked well with the potatoes and egg, pleasantly surprising her since her diet normally consisted of rather sweet fruits and vegetables. The fairy hummed, completely in heaven as she enjoyed her food.

“There is a flower that grows there only in the winter that I can use to help save your wings. However, here in the Iron Kingdom, the only way to the Wind Kingdom is through a tunnel that runs through the Never Ending Mountains and under the Oak River. It’s the only passageway to get to the east and west kingdoms; unless you’re a dragon who can fly through the mountains.” Lily explained. Gajeel grabbed a large cast iron pot, that was the size of Lily, of food that was cooking over the fire and began to greedily help himself to his portion. He didn’t care about the look Lily shot at him, telling him to mind his manners, or that Levy was snickering at how the dragon scarfed down his food.

“You would do that for me? But you barely even know me.” Levy gasped at the kindness. She looked back at Gajeel whose head was completely immersed in the pot trying to grab the food down at the bottom of the pot. She lightly laughed, having been raised to eat and act like a Queen to be it was entertaining to see for once someone who didn’t care that was royalty and just wanted to enjoy their food.

“As someone who has seen what hunters have done first hand to fairies, I won’t let you suffer for their actions. This poultice itself will heal your wings in four months time, but by that time spring will be here and you should be able to return home.” He explained.

Gajeel choked on part of his food at the end of that statement and began to cough hard. A part of him didn’t want to see the fairy go, and another part began to scheme of a plan to keep her around longer, confusing the dragon.

Soon Lily was off, and Gajeel watched as his friend flew towards the western edge of his kingdom and out of his sight. He looked back and saw that Levy was in his bed again fast asleep, thanks to the ointment that Lily had made for her wounds. Confident that she wouldn’t wake up, Gajeel changed into a human and sighed, watching her. He knew that he couldn’t show her this side of him. If she already had gotten scared of him being in dragon form, what difference would it make to see him like this? He was a monster, a creature of destruction who destroyed kingdoms, hoarded treasure, terrorized nations; not caring for stray fairies that wandered into his territory. But yet, there she was.

He knew that she would need a change of clothes when she woke up, so he began to rummage through his hoard looking for the chests of clothes he kept. Finally, he found the one he was looking for. Unlike most of the items he had, this one was plain and simple. He had stolen it from an ice village in the further north. Inside were clothes perfect for winter living made from the elephant-sized deer the roamed up there. He left it next to the bed along with some boot he had found. Once he was sure that she could manage herself, he took off to patrol his borders.

Special thanks to @spikerr for betaing this for me!!

#gajevy #the dragon and his fairy #Pantherlily #fairy tail #New Chapter #chapter 3 #fanfiction #my fanfiction #Erza Titania #Juvia Lockser

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red-death-assassin-blog · 7 years

Text

The Bridge Between Emotions

You’re sitting on the park bench under your favorite willow tree, reading your favorite book.

The weather is beautiful; clear skies, seventy degree weather, a nice peaceful park. The perfect place to relax.

Except, you can’t just ‘relax’. When you’re a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and you spend your life running from your enemies, you can never let your guard down.

You look up from your book, looking around for possible threats. Everything is clear … except for a tall, brooding man in all black …

The Winter Soldier.

The two of you had more history than most people; about ten years ago, you and the winter soldier were in love with each other. Desperately. You had even talked about marriage and kids.

And then he left you again. Left to be an assassin because he couldn’t control what he was feeling, and what he wanted to feel.

He couldn’t control his anger outbursts, and he just didn’t want to hurt you. You understood that it was best for you, and him as well, but you still loved him and wanted him back.

Five years ago, he shot you in the shoulder on a mission … he had been ordered to kill you. You had been marked as a threat to HYDRA, and you needed to be taken care of. Of course the only way to throw you off guard was to assign him to your case.

You slowly get up, trying to stay casual, not drawing attention to yourself. When you look behind you slightly, he’s still standing in the same spot, looking for you.

When you get to your car, you unlock it and quickly get in. Taking a deep breath, you lean your head against the headrest and close your eyes, relieved that you’re finally safe.

Just then, a thin rope wraps around your throat, cutting off all your air. The person behind you pulls it against your skin, forcing it to dig in and leave marks.

You look in the rearview mirror, and you see Bucky’s empty, cold eyes watching you. You reach behind you, clawing at his arm, hoping to loosen his grip somewhat.

Just before you pass out, you start to cry, realizing it’s over. Holding his arm, you croak out, “James I I l-love you.” and everything goes black.

You wake up in a hospital bed, Steve sitting next to you, reading a book.

“S-Steve?” You try to say his name, but it comes out raspy, your throat being sore.

Steve looks up from his book, sitting up straighter and smiling soft.

“Hey doll. How ya feelin’?” He gets up and fixes a glass of cold water, handing it to you gently.

You smile as a thank you and take a sip, your throat immediately feeling better.

“It was Bucky, Steve. He he was in the park. There one minute, gone the next, just like last time. I got in my car and and he was in there!”

Steve nods, already knowing the full report.

“They still have no clue where he is, doll. That’s why I’m staying with you. I can’t let anything happen to you.”

You nod, happy to have such an amazing friend, “Thanks, Steve, it means a lot.”

“Yes of course. I’m gonna run down to the cafeteria for a bite, you want anything?”

You shake your head, not very hungry just yet. “No I’m okay, thanks. And take your time, don’t rush to get back here.”

Steve smiles soft and nods, walking down to the cafeteria.

You close your eyes, resting your brain for even a second.

You’re just about to fall asleep when you hear the slightest sound of a shuffle, and you open your eyes.

Bucky stands in the doorway in jeans, a black Henley t-shirt and a ball cap. You assume he’s undercover, because he likely knows Steve is here.

He stands staring at you, and you can see the slightest hint of tears in his eyes.

“Bucky?! What are you doing here?”

“Y/N. I’m I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to, it just happened again.”

He walks in slowly, not to alarm you, and sits in the chair that was taken by Steve just a minute ago.

You sit up more, wanting to keep space between the two of you.

“Why did you do it? I wasn’t doing anything. I was reading my book peacefully.”

“Baby I had no choice. I I couldn’t control it again, they ordered me to come after you and and I couldn’t stop it!”

“You didn’t have to strangle me to death! You could’ve at least done something less painful! Because I still love you, and the idea of you watching me with that cold stare as I die is breaking my heart!”

You tear up and hide your face from him, not sure what to do or how to feel.

Bucky nods and looks at the floor, playing with his hands.

“I’m sorry baby. I’m trying. I’m I’m trying s-so hard. I have this switch and and it just turns off what I actually want to feel. And it turns on and off randomly. I don’t know how to fix it. But I I still love you I know that. And I wanna be with you!”

“Bucky, we can’t be together anymore, and you know that. We just can’t. It isn’t safe for either of us.”

He looks up at you, tears running down his face. All of a sudden, his features grow cold again and he stands up.

“Bucky, what are you doing. Don’t do this, fight the switch.”

Bucky shakes his head, clenching his fist, “We can’t be together, then I see no reason for you to stay on this earth, when I just have to see you every. single. mission.”

He grabs a pillow, squeezing his fists around it and gets up.

“Here’s what’s going to happen. Steve will come back and find you dead on the bed, smothered to death.”

Just as he starts to hold it down over your face, Steve walks in.

“Y/N I got your fav- BUCKY!”

He runs over and grabs Bucky, shoving him off of you. He pushes the button for security, and two of his highly-armored men come in, dragging Bucky away to take him to a cell in S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters.

You sit up more, watching Bucky try to fight them as he leaves your view. For some reason, you find yourself sad and scared that you may never see him again.

Steve looks at you, his features soft and worried.

“Are you okay, doll?”

You nod, and smile soft.

“Yeah Steve, I’m okay. Thanks. Just wishing things could be different.”

Steve nods, and you sit together in silence, thinking about how wonderful everything would be if Bucky wasn’t like this.

It’s not that you were mad at Bucky, or that you were pushing him away because of who he was. You just couldn’t afford to be with him, knowing it would risk both of your lives.

But while you were thinking, you realized that even with his hands around your throat, you still loved Bucky just as much as when his hands were around your waist, dancing the night away.

And that’s what makes love strong.

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fic #marvel fanfiction #love #bucky is not a villain #bucky is precious #agents of shield

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