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#but if i get time for Smoke in Autumn i'll write some of that too
polakina · 2 months
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when you wear their clothes
call of duty headcanons #9
hc masterlist // masterlist
so writing a book is harder than i thought...like a full fucking novel. how do people do this?
rating: explicit
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loves it
loves it every. fucking. time.
usually finds you in his shirt when he gets home from a long few weeks at work away from you
its always his favourite shirt
an old rock band tee he used to wear when he was younger and could never bring himself to get rid of
it hugged your thighs and rested just above your knees
he adored the fact that you wore his clothes
he adored it even more when he pulled it out of the wardrobe and it smelled of you
often times he couldn't help himself around you when you wore that shirt
loved to fuck you in that shirt
bury his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in the fabric that smelled only of your perfume when he thrusted into you
lost all sense of subtlety when he noticed you didn't wear anything underneath it
oh how he knew you loved to tease him
bending over to collect the laundry off the floor, teasing him as he caught a glimpse of what was shielded between your legs
you often found yourself bent over the closest surface whenever you did that, his hands roaming over your ass, pushing the long fabric up your body, the tee bunching against the center of your spine
"wearing my clothes around the house, hmm love? god i fucking love it when you do that"
"god you look so fucking good in my shirts"
looks forward to coming home and seeing you in his clothes
its what makes him drive just that tiny bit faster to reach the driveway
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forgot how to breathe the first time you wore his hoodie around the house
you were absentmindedly humming to yourself, watering the various plants and tidying the bookshelves
he always found it cute how you had to push the sleeves up your arms because they were too long
loved pulling the hood over your head and chuckling when the edge of the hood reached your nose
sometimes, when putting laundry away in the set of drawers, he'd pull that hoodie out and press his nose against the fabric, inhaling deeply to fill his nose when your scent
he found himself so aroused, so turned on when you wore his clothes
he couldn't understand why
but just as quick as he'd seen those clothes on you, they were on the floor even faster
"you should wear my clothes more often, darling"
"you've got no fucking idea how much it turns me on seeing you dressed like that"
he'd fuck you until he ran out of breath, until sweat dripped down his brows
after that one time, you always found that hoodie in your drawer instead of his, always freshly washed and folded along with your clothes
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had always dreamed of this moment
he'd recently bought a new denim jacket with a fur lining for the colder months
you both liked going for walks into the nearby town during autumn and winter, to get coffee in your joint favourite cafe and catch up
but when he couldn't find his jacket , he turned to you, his heart jumping when he saw it covering your body
smiles softly every time you say "i'll just get my jacket" and walk out in that denim jacket of his
the very definition of 'what's mine is yours' and loves it
leaves it out for you by the front door on purpose so you'll grab it on the way out of the house
you like to wear it when you go out to drink because it keeps you warm when you go out for a smoke
once he's got a few drinks in him, anything's on the table
and you know it
which is exactly why you do it
being in a public setting makes him just that much bolder
his hands find his way under that jacket, pushing your dress up over your ass, the tail of the jacket just covering what could be a very explicit scene for some passersby
"fuck, lass, the things you do to me. bet you can feel it, yeah?"
"aw baby, you're cold? don't worry, i'll warm you right up. you just keep my jacket on and you'll be fine, sweetheart"
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you guys are a similar size in clothes, which he secretly loves but also hates
one time you saw him wearing your hoodie and couldn't stop laughing about it for hours because he didn't even realise
was very careful picking out his clothes after that
but if you wear his? god, he doesn't know how to act. or what to say
it started out with small things
the occasional shirt, the odd jumper
but when you came downstairs one night wearing his pajamas, he couldn't stop smiling
"what you doing there, babe? is that why it took you so long upstairs? finding my clothes, huh?"
plaid, red and black pajama pants with a matching sleep shirt
he loved that look on you. a little baggy but a perfect fit
made for you
"come here, babe" he'd coax you over
he loved feeling his clothes on your skin, seeing the swell of your breasts between the collar of the shirt
"babe, you look so damn good right now"
he'd make you ride him while you wore his clothes, just pulling the pants down enough to slide his cock into you with ease
you found a lot more of his clothes lying around for convenience rather than your own, which you could never seem to locate
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chaotic-on-main · 7 months
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Epilogue
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☾ Pairings ➼ Levi Ackerman x fem!mute!Reader (she/her pronouns), set in a modern semi-fictional world
☾ Summary ➼ Due to childhood trauma, you find yourself an adult without the ability to speak. After years of working on it, you have found ways to live without a voice. Now here in your late 20s, you are 5 months in getting used to a new town. On a fateful day in late November, you and your adopted sister visit a local bookstore-café, unaware of the friendships about to blossom. Throughout the months, one friendship in particular develops into something more.
☾ Content/Warnings ➼ fluff, slowburn, oblivious feelings, romance, angst, mention of minor character deaths, trauma, illness, adoption, mentions of fire, disabilities, alcohol use, very light nsfw mentions, references to child abuse, smoking and alcohol abuse mentions, domestic violence, light assault, eventual smut
☾ Author's note ➼ Heeeeyy I'm back. If you haven't had an eye on my masterlist for Unspoken Words, you might have missed that I've been working on an epilogue. SURPRISE. If you have, then here it is lol. I am OFFICIALLY done with UW and I'm so sad about it. ALSO for some reason my tumblr app hates me and any time I italicize a line, it italicizes the entire paragraph and I have no idea why. As always, the sign language lines are marked with ' and speaking lines marked with ".
Thank you to anyone who has taken time out of their lives to read my "little" story. I enjoyed writing about this little world and I could not be happier to know that most of you liked reading it. I appreciate you more than you know. Can you believe this is around 100k words? Crazy. Anyways, I'm gonna go write some more, I'll see ya around! <3
☾ Word Count ➼ ~4k
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Reddish-orange leaves dance in a unique ballet number past the window you were currently staring out of. You can't keep your fingers from picking at the sleeves of your wool sweater as you wait for your speech therapist to come and get you from the semi-quiet lobby. The only noises you hear comes from the reception desk and the TV mounted opposite of the couch you were waiting on. The weather channel calls for a beautiful weekend with warmer than usual temperatures – which is good considering Halloween is tomorrow.
A side door leading to the back offices opens up, and your name is called from a stout brunette woman with large rimmed glasses and a kind smile. She holds it open as she beckons you forward, and you don't hesitate to smile back as you pick up your bag and make your way through the door and down the familiar hall on her heels.
You’ve been seeing Dr. Boreal for about almost two years now. You started speech therapy shortly after starting trauma therapy – something they had recommended. You weren't quick to decline the suggestion, but you'd be lying if you said you had ever thought about taking back your speech. Some time in your youth, you just assumed it was gone forever. That it was something that couldn't be fixed.
According to Dr. Foust, your trauma therapist, the speech block was mental. Therefore, it was something that could be explored and possibly broken through.
When he had said that, you had newfound hope and suddenly a silent goal to work towards.
It's like clockwork the way you stepped into Dr. Boreal's navy blue office, stepping over to the right and onto the plush cream colored couch meant just for patients. On the walls of her office sits multiple picture frames and motivational posters, all with smiles and bright colors. Her dark curtains sit parted, letting in the afternoon autumn sun that hits the wall next to you. You watch as she grabs the folder with your name on it before sitting in her large red chair and smiling over to you.
“So, how have you been? How was your trip with Levi?”
‘I’m doing well. And It was lovely! You were right, too. The road to Trost is gorgeous this time of year and the trees! So pretty.’ You think back at the little vacation Levi took you on just a week ago. He had taken the scenic route to the little town that you and he had rented a cabin in.
The leaves were at the end of their life and littered the ground wherever you went, crunching underneath your boots. Between the intimate moments and crisp atmosphere, it really was a magical time. Levi practically had to drag you back home.
On the way out, Levi found this adorable tea shop. It's not easy finding a place that made tea as well as he did, and of course he didn't say anything, but you could tell how much he enjoyed it. You won't soon forget the content on his normally stoic face. That reminds you of the little package snuggled in your purse so you reach down into it to pull out a small, rectangular tin.
‘I got this for you.’ You beam at her as you hand it over gently.
“Cranberry autumn tea?” She inspects the wording on the metal, hazel eyes glittering gold in the sunlight that reflects off the container. Her eyes shift to you as a grateful smile lights up her weathered face. “Oh you sweet thing, thank you so much. But you shouldn't have.”
‘As thanks for dealing with me.’ You laugh softly, leaning back into the plush couch.
“You know it's no problem. Even if I wasn't paid, I'd still enjoy your company.” She waves dismissively after setting her gift down on the table in front of her. “So, let's see where we left off last time.”
You pick at the edges of your sleeves once again as you watch her find the right place in her notes. Dr. Boreal is one of the kindest people you've had the pleasure of being around. Though she was being paid to help you, she always did so much more. She was patient with you when you struggled to get past certain goals, and when your voice hurt after a grueling session she would bring you herbal tea with honey to smooth the pain. Levi joked that you liked her tea more than his to which you always rolled your eyes at.
“Well you have made outstanding progress. Of course, there is still plenty we still need to work on. But you're doing well.” She looks down at her papers as she talks, the scratch of her pen fills the silence after she finishes. She looks back up to you. “Have you shown anyone your progress yet?”
Those around you are aware of your long journey through therapy. They even celebrated with you after one year - Hange's idea of course. Your sister couldn't hold it in when you had told them of the progress you've made and the goals you were looking forward to completing in the oncoming sessions.  
What they didn't know was that you were even in speech therapy, and how far in your speech recovery you were. Keeping it secret from Levi was getting harder with every passing week.
‘No, but I plan to soon, I promise.’ You pinch your lips together in a grimace. This has been a threat for the last 6 months but truthfully, you've been too scared to tell anyone. No, not scared. Nervous.
“Well, you know my stance on that. I’m sure they're going to be ecstatic, when you're ready to do so.” Dr. Boreal sets out a recorder to let you hear your voice the way she does, a tool you both found the most helpful when it came to fixing the areas that needed the most work. “Enough of that though, are you ready to start?”
With a confident smile, you open your mouth to speak.
.
A few hours later, you find yourself home and in the kitchen with your mind in another dimension. You’re currently plating up a vegetable tray on a tupperware platter as autumnal lofi weaves through the room from the speakers behind you. You’re so focused on arranging your sliced up miscellaneous veggies that you don't hear the metal key in the front door and the light footsteps of your boyfriend coming home for the evening.
“Hey.” Levi mutters from behind you, snaking his arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder to look at what you're doing – not without difficulty, of course. You jump at his sudden proximity causing you to drop the chosen dipping sauces in the middle of the platter, disturbing the once perfect arrangement.
There's a soft sigh from you, but you feel the giddiness at the expected company fluttering in your stomach. Even after a few years, he still gives you that effect. You twist in his arms to face him, and his gray eyes are downturned in concern.  
“Are you okay? Was therapy too much today?” He lessens his grip on you so you can pull your hands up to sign.
Levi Ackerman’s raven hair is slicked back from him running his fingers through it, and the way that it stayed put and the sheen on the strands, you can tell it must be raining. You've been so fixated on making sure it looked good that you hadn't even noticed. His gaze stares into yours as he searches for what might be bothering you, so you give him a reassuring smile.
‘No, it was actually really good. She said I've made a lot of progress.’
“That's good. Did you come home late, or have you been working on this tray the whole time?” He glances over your shoulder at the vegetables now thrown about on the counter.
‘Yes and no. I decided to run by the farmers market for more options. But they didn't have anything we didn't already have.’ You explain, shrugging your shoulders.
The afternoon sun was so nice on your face that you would have been a fool to not take advantage of it - and it's a good thing you did. Your eyes slide to the water droplets that drip down on the outside of the living room windows.
“Hm. Well we need to leave for Hange's party soon and you're not dressed. Let me finish this for you and you go get ready.” He leans in to kiss your forehead before unraveling his arms and pushing you in the direction of the bedroom. You only roll your eyes but make your way to the back as he asked.
Hange's Halloween Bash is something they have been planning for about a year. The moment the decorations went on sale last winter, she snatched up what she could. She said something about starting a new tradition for her friends turned family. Levi wasn't as excited about the prospect of such a social gathering but you were, and that was enough to get him to go.
Not only were you able to get him to go, you were also able to talk him into dressing up with you.  
In front of the mirror, you finish tying up a black corset that wraps around your waist. It helps form-fit the blue long sleeve dress that drops down to your bare ankles with your pair of flats completing the look. You were almost ready – all that was left was the big blue bow that you pinned to the back of your head as best you could. You suppose for a makeshift Ariel, this would do just fine. You almost chuckle at the irony of the characters you suggested to Levi a month ago.
A girl who can't talk and a prince that loved her despite it.
You do a small twirl in the mirror to make sure everything looks right. You almost jump out of your skin at the sudden sight of the person standing in the doorway. Levi leans against the door frame, the corner of his mouth twitching into a small smirk. His hands are in the pockets of his work clothes as he watches you intently, taking in the sight of you. With a hand over your heart, you give him a small frown.
“Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.” He doesn't sound sorry at all.
‘You are too quiet for your own good. One day you're going to scare me so bad that I'm going to punch you.’ You shake your head but smile anyways. You make your way to the closet to pull out Levi's costume for the night, making sure to grab the red waist sash that threatens to fall to the floor.
“You keep saying that.” He takes the hanger from you but not before leaning in to give you a chaste kiss. With a small laugh, you head out of the bedroom and down the hall back to the kitchen.
On your way there, you take a moment to glance at the framed photographs on the walls. Levi made sure to hang up the pictures he took from his apartment that he shared with Erwin as soon as you both moved in.
There was the one of him, Furlan, and Isabel as well as the one of him and Erwin on graduation day though Levi had persisted with Erwin to keep the latter. His blonde and blue eyed friend told him to take it as he had plenty more photos of the two he could hang up. That didn’t make Levi feel any better and it makes you wonder what photos Levi might be hiding from you.
Dispersed in between those are ones of you and Hange, and some with your shared circle of friends. The last one frames three photo strips next to each other. The first one is from your first Sakura Festival a few years ago where you sat on Levi's lap – both red faced and unaware of the extent of your affections for each other.
The other two are from the same photo booth, taken from the previous and current year. With each year, the smiles and looks of adoration grew. Both, luckily, were without the presence of your sister and Erwin. Surprisingly, it wasn't your idea to go back. As much as Levi did his best to hide his sentimental side, it was always present.  
When you get to the kitchen counter, you see the platter rearranged and closed up with the matching plastic lid. It looks perfect, even better than when you took a crack at it. You also see two cups of tea on the counter, both with steam rising up and dancing in the kitchen lights before dissipating into the air.
With a grin, you reach over to grab what you can only assume is yours based on the light color of your tea then walk around the island to sit on the bar stool, leaning on the counter with the mug in both hands. After your first sip, you sigh happily. It was one of the new teas Levi had brought back from the trip because he couldn't get enough of it. Earthy with hints of floral notes, topped with a citrusy zing.
When you start to wonder if Levi was okay, your eyes catch movement in the hallway. You watch Levi struggle with his sash, the soft grumbling of his irritation coming from under his breath as he tugs on it. Sometimes you never realize how hard it is to do something with less than the normal amount of fingers until it's forced upon you. Of course, Levi was never one to ask for help even after all these years.
Without a second thought, you stand up and make your way over to him. He doesn't fight as you take the fabric from his fingers and tighten it from the back. Tucked into the sash is a white blouse, loose enough to billow in the evening breeze. Black pants and matching boots fit snug against his lower half. When you're done, you turn him to face you to inspect the whole ensemble. With his hair properly slicked back, he was the perfect Prince Eric.
‘You look rather dashing, you know that?’
“Tch.” He rolls his eyes at you, but there's not a trace of annoyance radiating off of him. As much as he hates it, he loves you and would do anything you asked – within reason.
‘Are you almost ready to go?’
“In a few, I didn't just brew this for nothing.” He makes his way to the counter to grab his mug and instead of sitting, he stands propped up against the counter like you were but with his phone in hand.
“Your sister wants to know if you want apple juice or apple cider.” He mutters, his gray eyes flicking up over to you as you make your way over to the seat you were just at to finish your own cup. “Both, right?”
‘How did you know?’ You laugh, but nod in agreement. You watch as his fingers type away, the clicking of the keys filling back empty space. There's barely any sunlight coming through the closed blinds signifying that nightfall was almost here. You just now noticed Levi had gone ahead and turned off everything for you while you were getting ready.
The gut feeling you felt last week is back. There was a moment when Levi drove through the rolling hills, the golden rays of sunset lighting up his face. A moment of peace that washed over you as his soft gaze flitted over to you in the passenger seat for only a second, one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh.
With a nervous sigh, you reach over and pull down his phone with one finger to get his attention. Instantly he looks at you with worry, his mouth downturned.
“Are you okay?”
‘I bet you love me.’
His eyebrows raise, a little surprised at your random question – at something so obvious that he worries even more that something is wrong.
“What’s this about?”
‘Humor me. I bet you love me.’
“You bet right.” He draws out, confusion lacing his tone. 
‘You have to answer a question now. Since I was right.’
“What do you want to know that you don’t already?” His eyes roll at you again, but he sets his phone and mug down and leans over on his elbows to watch you intently.
‘It’s a simple but very important question, I promise.’
“Tch, okay. Hit me.”
Your eyes are suddenly fixated on the fridge to the right of you, the heat of his stare making you shy. For a split second, you almost chicken out. With your heart in your throat, you feel as if you're going to choke as your pulse quickens. Can you do this? Were you ready for this? You were quite tired after today, maybe it's best saved for another day. These thoughts race loudly in your head, but the moment you look back up to meet Levi's gaze, they cease to a quiet murmur.
No, you're ready. And you can do this.
With your fingers laced together, you rest your chin on them and continue to look up at Levi's perplexed expression. Your mouth opens and closes a few times before you're finally able to find your voice.
“Will… you marry… me, Levi?” Your voice is scratchy despite the honey tea you drank after your session. It's rough, and to you it's far from pretty. But the change in expression on Levi's face is almost worth it as he stares at you dazed. It's almost funny to see the physical reaction of his brain comprehending what just happened, like a computer crashing and rebooting.
He's reaching over the counter suddenly and cupping your face in his calloused hands. He holds you there as his wide eyes bounce back and forth between yours. You fight back a laugh, your lips pinched together and quivering.
“Do that again. Say my name again.” The urgency in his voice is palpable.
“L…” You take a deep breath and close your eyes, trying to find your voice yet again. It's hard, but you try again anyway. “Levi.” It comes out brittle this time, leaving an uncomfortable pain in its wake.
“How did this happen?” His own voice sounds a little higher than before, and you have to bite back another laugh.
‘I've been working on it alongside my sessions with Foust.’ You've met your vocal quota for the day. Levi's hands stay cupped around your cheeks and he pulls you in until his soft lips touch yours again. Your eyes flutter closed as you kiss him back, feeling the weight of your anxiety lift off your shoulders in an instant.
When he pulls away, his stare is conflicted and before you know it, he's released you and whips around the corner down the hallway. Dread inches its way into your chest where the anxiety was before as you realize he never answered your question. Did he need a moment? Did he even hear what you asked? The shock may have been too much. Your teeth bite into the inside of your cheek as you watch the dark hallway nervously.
A few seconds later, he emerges from the shadows with red creeping from his neck up into his face. He's flustered and holding something small in his hand. It takes you a moment to register what it was, and when you do, you jump to your feet to meet him halfway.
He doesn’t hesitate to open it to you though his fingers tremble ever so slightly. Inside are two golden rings, interlocked together. A small oval ruby sits surrounded by metal vines beset by smaller white diamonds in the shape of leaves. It's simple yet elegant. Your eyes snap up to his, no doubt as big as saucers.
Not only is this ring breathtaking, it's also groundbreaking to you. You've seen this ring box around since before you both had moved in together. It's been in the closet collecting dust, so of course you didn't think anything of it. He's had this ring for a long time, sitting right under your nose.
‘How long were you planning to propose?’
“For a while now. I just didn't know when would be a good time.” He carefully takes out the one with the red ruby and holds it up to you. The kitchen lights glimmer off the smooth surface reflecting red against his fingers. “I can't believe you beat me to it, though.” So he did hear you.
‘I wasn't planning to do it tonight, but I just had a feeling.’
“You never cease to amaze me, you know that?” He leans over to place the ring box onto the side table behind him, then turns to you. Then he does something you've only ever seen in movies – Levi gets down on one knee and the ring out to you.
“Um. I'm not good with things like this. But I just want you to know that I love you. And I've never been more prepared to spend my life with someone, if you'll have me. Will you marry me?” His eyes look away for a second before focusing back on you. Even though you had pretty much said yes when you asked first, he still seemed so nervous.  
To see Levi in such a mess like this in front of you makes that laugh you held back burst forth, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Speechless again, you reach your hand out to him and just like that, he slides the ring on your finger with ease.
“I- uh, borrowed one of your rings to get it resized.” He mutters as you stare at it curiously. “So, that's a yes right?” Even though you took the ring, you can still hear the anxiety in his voice.
‘Of course, dummy.’ You laugh again before pulling him up on his feet by his collar and into you for another kiss, this time deeper and full of the love that you have for this man. When you pull away, you can't help but stare at the metal hugging your ring finger.
“It was my mom’s, she insisted on me having it. I think she knew.” He grabs your hand and pulls you into him, one hand on your waist and the other cupping your face. “I suppose we should call her tomorrow, yeah?”
You nod sharply, your smile hurting your cheeks, but you don't care. All you feel right now is the same peace you felt last week and excitement for the future ahead. You didn't want anyone else. 
“Say it again?”
“Levi.” He leans in again, hand still on your face as he presses his lips against your once more. There have been many shared kisses since you both became official but this one felt different. You didn't have the words for it, but it was miles away from being bad.
Levi's phone vibrating loudly on the counter disturbs the comfortable silence and you can only sigh. You almost forgot that you had somewhere to be and are reminded by the caller ID flashing your sister's name. In Levi fashion, he ignores it but he does pull away to look at you with a grimace.
“So who’s telling them?” 
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☾ Previous Chapter: June - Part 5
86 notes · View notes
spicerackofblorbos · 2 months
Text
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Epilogue
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☾ Pairings ➼ Levi Ackerman x fem!mute!Reader (she/her pronouns), set in a modern semi-fictional world
☾ Summary ➼ Due to childhood trauma, you find yourself an adult without the ability to speak. After years of working on it, you have found ways to live without a voice. Now here in your late 20s, you are 5 months in getting used to a new town. On a fateful day in late November, you and your adopted sister visit a local bookstore-café, unaware of the friendships about to blossom. Throughout the months, one friendship in particular develops into something more.
☾ Content/Warnings ➼ fluff, slowburn, oblivious feelings, romance, angst, mention of minor character deaths, trauma, illness, adoption, mentions of fire, disabilities, alcohol use, very light nsfw mentions, references to child abuse, smoking and alcohol abuse mentions, domestic violence, light assault, eventual smut
☾ Author's note ➼ Heeeeyy I'm back. If you haven't had an eye on my masterlist for Unspoken Words, you might have missed that I've been working on an epilogue. SURPRISE. If you have, then here it is lol. I am OFFICIALLY done with UW and I'm so sad about it. ALSO for some reason my tumblr app hates me and any time I italicize a line, it italicizes the entire paragraph and I have no idea why. As always, the sign language lines are marked with ' and speaking lines marked with ".
Thank you to anyone who has taken time out of their lives to read my "little" story. I enjoyed writing about this little world and I could not be happier to know that most of you liked reading it. I appreciate you more than you know. Can you believe this is around 100k words? Crazy. Anyways, I'm gonna go write some more, I'll see ya around! &lt;3
☾ Word Count ➼ ~4k
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Reddish-orange leaves dance in a unique ballet number past the window you were currently staring out of. You can't keep your fingers from picking at the sleeves of your wool sweater as you wait for your speech therapist to come and get you from the semi-quiet lobby. The only noises you hear comes from the reception desk and the TV mounted opposite of the couch you were waiting on. The weather channel calls for a beautiful weekend with warmer than usual temperatures – which is good considering Halloween is tomorrow.
A side door leading to the back offices opens up, and your name is called from a stout brunette woman with large rimmed glasses and a kind smile. She holds it open as she beckons you forward, and you don't hesitate to smile back as you pick up your bag and make your way through the door and down the familiar hall on her heels.
You’ve been seeing Dr. Boreal for about almost two years now. You started speech therapy shortly after starting trauma therapy – something they had recommended. You weren't quick to decline the suggestion, but you'd be lying if you said you had ever thought about taking back your speech. Some time in your youth, you just assumed it was gone forever. That it was something that couldn't be fixed.
According to Dr. Foust, your trauma therapist, the speech block was mental. Therefore, it was something that could be explored and possibly broken through.
When he had said that, you had newfound hope and suddenly a silent goal to work towards.
It's like clockwork the way you stepped into Dr. Boreal's navy blue office, stepping over to the right and onto the plush cream colored couch meant just for patients. On the walls of her office sits multiple picture frames and motivational posters, all with smiles and bright colors. Her dark curtains sit parted, letting in the afternoon autumn sun that hits the wall next to you. You watch as she grabs the folder with your name on it before sitting in her large red chair and smiling over to you.
“So, how have you been? How was your trip with Levi?”
‘I’m doing well. And It was lovely! You were right, too. The road to Trost is gorgeous this time of year and the trees! So pretty.’ You think back at the little vacation Levi took you on just a week ago. He had taken the scenic route to the little town that you and he had rented a cabin in.
The leaves were at the end of their life and littered the ground wherever you went, crunching underneath your boots. Between the intimate moments and crisp atmosphere, it really was a magical time. Levi practically had to drag you back home.
On the way out, Levi found this adorable tea shop. It's not easy finding a place that made tea as well as he did, and of course he didn't say anything, but you could tell how much he enjoyed it. You won't soon forget the content on his normally stoic face. That reminds you of the little package snuggled in your purse so you reach down into it to pull out a small, rectangular tin.
‘I got this for you.’ You beam at her as you hand it over gently.
“Cranberry autumn tea?” She inspects the wording on the metal, hazel eyes glittering gold in the sunlight that reflects off the container. Her eyes shift to you as a grateful smile lights up her weathered face. “Oh you sweet thing, thank you so much. But you shouldn't have.”
‘As thanks for dealing with me.’ You laugh softly, leaning back into the plush couch.
“You know it's no problem. Even if I wasn't paid, I'd still enjoy your company.” She waves dismissively after setting her gift down on the table in front of her. “So, let's see where we left off last time.”
You pick at the edges of your sleeves once again as you watch her find the right place in her notes. Dr. Boreal is one of the kindest people you've had the pleasure of being around. Though she was being paid to help you, she always did so much more. She was patient with you when you struggled to get past certain goals, and when your voice hurt after a grueling session she would bring you herbal tea with honey to smooth the pain. Levi joked that you liked her tea more than his to which you always rolled your eyes at.
“Well you have made outstanding progress. Of course, there is still plenty we still need to work on. But you're doing well.” She looks down at her papers as she talks, the scratch of her pen fills the silence after she finishes. She looks back up to you. “Have you shown anyone your progress yet?”
Those around you are aware of your long journey through therapy. They even celebrated with you after one year - Hange's idea of course. Your sister couldn't hold it in when you had told them of the progress you've made and the goals you were looking forward to completing in the oncoming sessions.  
What they didn't know was that you were even in speech therapy, and how far in your speech recovery you were. Keeping it secret from Levi was getting harder with every passing week.
‘No, but I plan to soon, I promise.’ You pinch your lips together in a grimace. This has been a threat for the last 6 months but truthfully, you've been too scared to tell anyone. No, not scared. Nervous.
“Well, you know my stance on that. I’m sure they're going to be ecstatic, when you're ready to do so.” Dr. Boreal sets out a recorder to let you hear your voice the way she does, a tool you both found the most helpful when it came to fixing the areas that needed the most work. “Enough of that though, are you ready to start?”
With a confident smile, you open your mouth to speak.
.
A few hours later, you find yourself home and in the kitchen with your mind in another dimension. You’re currently plating up a vegetable tray on a tupperware platter as autumnal lofi weaves through the room from the speakers behind you. You’re so focused on arranging your sliced up miscellaneous veggies that you don't hear the metal key in the front door and the light footsteps of your boyfriend coming home for the evening.
“Hey.” Levi mutters from behind you, snaking his arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder to look at what you're doing – not without difficulty, of course. You jump at his sudden proximity causing you to drop the chosen dipping sauces in the middle of the platter, disturbing the once perfect arrangement.
There's a soft sigh from you, but you feel the giddiness at the expected company fluttering in your stomach. Even after a few years, he still gives you that effect. You twist in his arms to face him, and his gray eyes are downturned in concern.  
“Are you okay? Was therapy too much today?” He lessens his grip on you so you can pull your hands up to sign.
Levi Ackerman’s raven hair is slicked back from him running his fingers through it, and the way that it stayed put and the sheen on the strands, you can tell it must be raining. You've been so fixated on making sure it looked good that you hadn't even noticed. His gaze stares into yours as he searches for what might be bothering you, so you give him a reassuring smile.
‘No, it was actually really good. She said I've made a lot of progress.’
“That's good. Did you come home late, or have you been working on this tray the whole time?” He glances over your shoulder at the vegetables now thrown about on the counter.
‘Yes and no. I decided to run by the farmers market for more options. But they didn't have anything we didn't already have.’ You explain, shrugging your shoulders.
The afternoon sun was so nice on your face that you would have been a fool to not take advantage of it - and it's a good thing you did. Your eyes slide to the water droplets that drip down on the outside of the living room windows.
“Hm. Well we need to leave for Hange's party soon and you're not dressed. Let me finish this for you and you go get ready.” He leans in to kiss your forehead before unraveling his arms and pushing you in the direction of the bedroom. You only roll your eyes but make your way to the back as he asked.
Hange's Halloween Bash is something they have been planning for about a year. The moment the decorations went on sale last winter, she snatched up what she could. She said something about starting a new tradition for her friends turned family. Levi wasn't as excited about the prospect of such a social gathering but you were, and that was enough to get him to go.
Not only were you able to get him to go, you were also able to talk him into dressing up with you.  
In front of the mirror, you finish tying up a black corset that wraps around your waist. It helps form-fit the blue long sleeve dress that drops down to your bare ankles with your pair of flats completing the look. You were almost ready – all that was left was the big blue bow that you pinned to the back of your head as best you could. You suppose for a makeshift Ariel, this would do just fine. You almost chuckle at the irony of the characters you suggested to Levi a month ago.
A girl who can't talk and a prince that loved her despite it.
You do a small twirl in the mirror to make sure everything looks right. You almost jump out of your skin at the sudden sight of the person standing in the doorway. Levi leans against the door frame, the corner of his mouth twitching into a small smirk. His hands are in the pockets of his work clothes as he watches you intently, taking in the sight of you. With a hand over your heart, you give him a small frown.
“Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.” He doesn't sound sorry at all.
‘You are too quiet for your own good. One day you're going to scare me so bad that I'm going to punch you.’ You shake your head but smile anyways. You make your way to the closet to pull out Levi's costume for the night, making sure to grab the red waist sash that threatens to fall to the floor.
“You keep saying that.” He takes the hanger from you but not before leaning in to give you a chaste kiss. With a small laugh, you head out of the bedroom and down the hall back to the kitchen.
On your way there, you take a moment to glance at the framed photographs on the walls. Levi made sure to hang up the pictures he took from his apartment that he shared with Erwin as soon as you both moved in.
There was the one of him, Furlan, and Isabel as well as the one of him and Erwin on graduation day though Levi had persisted with Erwin to keep the latter. His blonde and blue eyed friend told him to take it as he had plenty more photos of the two he could hang up. That didn’t make Levi feel any better and it makes you wonder what photos Levi might be hiding from you.
Dispersed in between those are ones of you and Hange, and some with your shared circle of friends. The last one frames three photo strips next to each other. The first one is from your first Sakura Festival a few years ago where you sat on Levi's lap – both red faced and unaware of the extent of your affections for each other.
The other two are from the same photo booth, taken from the previous and current year. With each year, the smiles and looks of adoration grew. Both, luckily, were without the presence of your sister and Erwin. Surprisingly, it wasn't your idea to go back. As much as Levi did his best to hide his sentimental side, it was always present.  
When you get to the kitchen counter, you see the platter rearranged and closed up with the matching plastic lid. It looks perfect, even better than when you took a crack at it. You also see two cups of tea on the counter, both with steam rising up and dancing in the kitchen lights before dissipating into the air.
With a grin, you reach over to grab what you can only assume is yours based on the light color of your tea then walk around the island to sit on the bar stool, leaning on the counter with the mug in both hands. After your first sip, you sigh happily. It was one of the new teas Levi had brought back from the trip because he couldn't get enough of it. Earthy with hints of floral notes, topped with a citrusy zing.
When you start to wonder if Levi was okay, your eyes catch movement in the hallway. You watch Levi struggle with his sash, the soft grumbling of his irritation coming from under his breath as he tugs on it. Sometimes you never realize how hard it is to do something with less than the normal amount of fingers until it's forced upon you. Of course, Levi was never one to ask for help even after all these years.
Without a second thought, you stand up and make your way over to him. He doesn't fight as you take the fabric from his fingers and tighten it from the back. Tucked into the sash is a white blouse, loose enough to billow in the evening breeze. Black pants and matching boots fit snug against his lower half. When you're done, you turn him to face you to inspect the whole ensemble. With his hair properly slicked back, he was the perfect Prince Eric.
‘You look rather dashing, you know that?’
“Tch.” He rolls his eyes at you, but there's not a trace of annoyance radiating off of him. As much as he hates it, he loves you and would do anything you asked – within reason.
‘Are you almost ready to go?’
“In a few, I didn't just brew this for nothing.” He makes his way to the counter to grab his mug and instead of sitting, he stands propped up against the counter like you were but with his phone in hand.
“Your sister wants to know if you want apple juice or apple cider.” He mutters, his gray eyes flicking up over to you as you make your way over to the seat you were just at to finish your own cup. “Both, right?”
‘How did you know?’ You laugh, but nod in agreement. You watch as his fingers type away, the clicking of the keys filling back empty space. There's barely any sunlight coming through the closed blinds signifying that nightfall was almost here. You just now noticed Levi had gone ahead and turned off everything for you while you were getting ready.
The gut feeling you felt last week is back. There was a moment when Levi drove through the rolling hills, the golden rays of sunset lighting up his face. A moment of peace that washed over you as his soft gaze flitted over to you in the passenger seat for only a second, one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh.
With a nervous sigh, you reach over and pull down his phone with one finger to get his attention. Instantly he looks at you with worry, his mouth downturned.
“Are you okay?”
‘I bet you love me.’
His eyebrows raise, a little surprised at your random question – at something so obvious that he worries even more that something is wrong.
“What’s this about?”
‘Humor me. I bet you love me.’
“You bet right.” He draws out, confusion lacing his tone. 
‘You have to answer a question now. Since I was right.’
“What do you want to know that you don’t already?” His eyes roll at you again, but he sets his phone and mug down and leans over on his elbows to watch you intently.
‘It’s a simple but very important question, I promise.’
“Tch, okay. Hit me.”
Your eyes are suddenly fixated on the fridge to the right of you, the heat of his stare making you shy. For a split second, you almost chicken out. With your heart in your throat, you feel as if you're going to choke as your pulse quickens. Can you do this? Were you ready for this? You were quite tired after today, maybe it's best saved for another day. These thoughts race loudly in your head, but the moment you look back up to meet Levi's gaze, they cease to a quiet murmur.
No, you're ready. And you can do this.
With your fingers laced together, you rest your chin on them and continue to look up at Levi's perplexed expression. Your mouth opens and closes a few times before you're finally able to find your voice.
“Will… you marry… me, Levi?” Your voice is scratchy despite the honey tea you drank after your session. It's rough, and to you it's far from pretty. But the change in expression on Levi's face is almost worth it as he stares at you dazed. It's almost funny to see the physical reaction of his brain comprehending what just happened, like a computer crashing and rebooting.
He's reaching over the counter suddenly and cupping your face in his calloused hands. He holds you there as his wide eyes bounce back and forth between yours. You fight back a laugh, your lips pinched together and quivering.
“Do that again. Say my name again.” The urgency in his voice is palpable.
“L…” You take a deep breath and close your eyes, trying to find your voice yet again. It's hard, but you try again anyway. “Levi.” It comes out brittle this time, leaving an uncomfortable pain in its wake.
“How did this happen?” His own voice sounds a little higher than before, and you have to bite back another laugh.
‘I've been working on it alongside my sessions with Foust.’ You've met your vocal quota for the day. Levi's hands stay cupped around your cheeks and he pulls you in until his soft lips touch yours again. Your eyes flutter closed as you kiss him back, feeling the weight of your anxiety lift off your shoulders in an instant.
When he pulls away, his stare is conflicted and before you know it, he's released you and whips around the corner down the hallway. Dread inches its way into your chest where the anxiety was before as you realize he never answered your question. Did he need a moment? Did he even hear what you asked? The shock may have been too much. Your teeth bite into the inside of your cheek as you watch the dark hallway nervously.
A few seconds later, he emerges from the shadows with red creeping from his neck up into his face. He's flustered and holding something small in his hand. It takes you a moment to register what it was, and when you do, you jump to your feet to meet him halfway.
He doesn’t hesitate to open it to you though his fingers tremble ever so slightly. Inside are two golden rings, interlocked together. A small oval ruby sits surrounded by metal vines beset by smaller white diamonds in the shape of leaves. It's simple yet elegant. Your eyes snap up to his, no doubt as big as saucers.
Not only is this ring breathtaking, it's also groundbreaking to you. You've seen this ring box around since before you both had moved in together. It's been in the closet collecting dust, so of course you didn't think anything of it. He's had this ring for a long time, sitting right under your nose.
‘How long were you planning to propose?’
“For a while now. I just didn't know when would be a good time.” He carefully takes out the one with the red ruby and holds it up to you. The kitchen lights glimmer off the smooth surface reflecting red against his fingers. “I can't believe you beat me to it, though.” So he did hear you.
‘I wasn't planning to do it tonight, but I just had a feeling.’
“You never cease to amaze me, you know that?” He leans over to place the ring box onto the side table behind him, then turns to you. Then he does something you've only ever seen in movies – Levi gets down on one knee and the ring out to you.
“Um. I'm not good with things like this. But I just want you to know that I love you. And I've never been more prepared to spend my life with someone, if you'll have me. Will you marry me?” His eyes look away for a second before focusing back on you. Even though you had pretty much said yes when you asked first, he still seemed so nervous.  
To see Levi in such a mess like this in front of you makes that laugh you held back burst forth, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Speechless again, you reach your hand out to him and just like that, he slides the ring on your finger with ease.
“I- uh, borrowed one of your rings to get it resized.” He mutters as you stare at it curiously. “So, that's a yes right?” Even though you took the ring, you can still hear the anxiety in his voice.
‘Of course, dummy.’ You laugh again before pulling him up on his feet by his collar and into you for another kiss, this time deeper and full of the love that you have for this man. When you pull away, you can't help but stare at the metal hugging your ring finger.
“It was my mom’s, she insisted on me having it. I think she knew.” He grabs your hand and pulls you into him, one hand on your waist and the other cupping your face. “I suppose we should call her tomorrow, yeah?”
You nod sharply, your smile hurting your cheeks, but you don't care. All you feel right now is the same peace you felt last week and excitement for the future ahead. You didn't want anyone else. 
“Say it again?”
“Levi.” He leans in again, hand still on your face as he presses his lips against your once more. There have been many shared kisses since you both became official but this one felt different. You didn't have the words for it, but it was miles away from being bad.
Levi's phone vibrating loudly on the counter disturbs the comfortable silence and you can only sigh. You almost forgot that you had somewhere to be and are reminded by the caller ID flashing your sister's name. In Levi fashion, he ignores it but he does pull away to look at you with a grimace.
“So who’s telling them?” 
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☾ Previous Chapter: June - Part 5
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slippinninque · 5 months
Text
A Lil' Bit Special
The upcoming holiday has you feeling brave, so you decide to take a change.
Fontaine x black reader
warnings: long-fic, bad attempts at seduction and flirting, cursing, smoking, rambling and my horrid attempts at writing humor lol
::::
It was one of those days in autumn where it was just pleasant enough to hang outside. The sun was strong through the few clouds that grazed the sky, the breeze more cool than crisp.
Stacy decided that you needed to "get out more" so it somehow led to her low-key kidnapping you. Apparently there was a kickback happening with "a few friends already coming".
"It'll get you all ready to play hostess later on, trust me." Stacy offered as an excuse to your rolling eyes.
Wasn't long before you were parked, you two leaving the car to meet up with the rest of your girls.
It definitely became worth it when you saw a familiar Gran Prix not too far away.
You were playing the long game, but this was a beautiful opportunity.
To the knowing smiles and grins from your friends, you pardoned yourself to begin walking over to Fontaine's car.
You faltered when you were close enough to see him speaking with someone bent through the passenger window.
You weren't brave enough to have an audience. Another time then.
'Another time, then.' You thought, turning to retreat to retreat when you heard the soft bop of a horn.
Fontaine crooked his finger for you to come over and you huffed to hide the smile creeping on your face as you did.
"Huh, so you're honking at me like I'm some sort of peasant?"
"My bad, Lil'Bit, my bad. It looked like you wanted to talk to me about somethin'."
Your face warmed at his nickname for you, "I do, actually! Real quick, I know you're busy an' all that. I didn't want to interrupt."
Fontaine smacked his lips and gestured to the passenger seat.
"C'mon in here and talk to me, don' be standing out there."
Your heart squealed but you played it cool, "Can't do that--I'm hangin' with the ladies right now, but I do need you to say 'yes' to something."
He huffed a laugh, "And what's that?"
You leaned into the car a bit through the driver side window, propped onto your elbows and wore your best smile.
"I'm here to invite you to my Friendsgiving soiree later this week."
Fontaine paused, eyes going a bit narrow, "Friendsgiving?"
The butterflies returned under his scrutiny but you busied yourself, reaching out to run your index finger along the ridges of his steering wheel's grip. As far as your finger could reach before going back tracking on the opposite side.
"I don't have any family here, so I host one for all my people that can come through. ."
When you looked up, you saw he was watching your fidgeting with rapt attention.
"I would like to see you there. Big Moss too, if you can bring 'em. Anyone really--there's going to be enough to feed an army."
This was a bit of a risk for you. After all, he could consider you more of a familiar customer if anything.
You could have the vibes all wrong. Misread the looks, the small but thoughtful gestures. The few but pleasurable conversations they've had thus far...
You watched his eyes slide from your fingers and up to meet yours, the most expressive pair of eyes you've seen, your favorite part of that man.
"Yes."
You couldn't help but to smile. You were down bad but if there was a chance that Fontaine would like to join you, fuck it. You wanted to burrow in that.
"Wonderful! Bring anything you like, but it's not mandatory or nothing." You spotted a dude walking up through the passenger side window and straightened.
"I'll see you later, 'Taine, yeah?"
He nodded and when you turned to make your way to your friends, you could feel them warming your back.
::::
You spent the rest of the week getting ready to host. You did all of the prep and cooking of the essential sides, just in case plans changed. You would rather have too much food to end up giving away rather than too little to share.
When thanksgiving finally rolled around, you allowed yourself to get swept up in the festivities.
There was a lot of food. Friends who couldn't make it sent forward a dish to be shared the next day. Coworkers who came through to get something on their stomachs before going to the company's booze-only party.
Neighbors who lingered and played a few hands of Spades, bringing fruits and plants as gifts. There were drinks and smoke flowing with the easy togetherness that you were grateful for.
You were in a bit of a difficult standing with your family at the moment. A lot of silences, hesitant texts. It just needed some work, when you were ready to do it. Until then, you still reached out to the fam to let them know you were still thinking of them.
The evening came and your core crew began dispersing. You felt floating and full yourself, tipsy from the good time you've been having since the afternoon. Your apron was filled with messes and you long ago slipped on your slippers.
While farewells happened in the front room, you went into the kitchen to make a few to-go plates and map out exactly how all the left over were going to fit in your fridge.
"You wasn't fuckin' around, Lil'Bit."
Startling, you looked over your shoulder and saw Fontaine standing there with a few bags in hand. You felt your face flame, knowing how much of a mess you looked.
"You're here already?" You checked the time on your phone, "Of course you are, you'd said you'd be a little later. Sit, sit. I'll make you a plate."
"I ain't trippin', I can make it--"
You turned, walking right up to Fontaine and for some reason found yourself grabbing the zipper of his jacket.
"I'm glad you're here, Fontaine. Show me what you brought while I make your plate."
Silently, Fontaine put the bags on the island. Putting the assorted fruit platter and wine bottle onto the kitchen counter.
Bless his heart, he brought paper plates and plastic silverware too. You cooed, grabbing the big count of assorted utensils and immediately tearing into them.
Before long, Fontaine was leaning against your fridge with a hefty plate as you returned to the to-go plates.
"Is 'Moss with you?" You just remembered with a jolt.
Fontaine hummed a positive, "Out there talkin' to Stacy."
You laughed a bit, making an extra plate. With the finished plates, you went to the front room to pass them out. You greeted Big Moss and wished safe travels to your departing friends.
There was only Big Moss, Stacy, yourself, Fontaine. You should have stayed in the front to get Stacey to put away her pretty little eyes, less she get involved in the whirlwind of Big Moss and his baby mama--but...
You switched on your radio and lowered it, asking them if they needed anything.
"Girl, sit yo' tail down." Stacy admonished, shuffling a deck of cards while Moss poured something for them both, "You've been standing all day. Eat something too, while you're at it!"
"Eek, alright, you can't fuss at me in my house!"
Stacy made a show of narrowing her eyes and you hightailed it out of there. You took one of the stools with you, plopping it next to the one already pulled to the island.
Fontaine was rolling a blunt next to his plate. When you finally took a seat, you took a deep sigh. The kitchen would have to wait until morning, you would put all the food away the best you can.
'A happy trouble.' you told yourself as you took in the spread on the island.
A bunt being set in front of you brought you out of your head. Fontaine rounded the island to take a seat on the stool before you. Taking out the lighter in your apron, you fired up in one flame.
"My bad for comin' so late. Big Moss' Mama roped us into cleaning up after her and her gang."
"Her...gang?"
You passed the blunt to him as he nodded, "Somethin' about a knitting circle potluck. I ain't even sure, but she was laughing...so..."
He shrugged but you understood. So long as Mama Moss was having a good time, it didn't matter what she needed.
"Not the Mama Moss Gang." You giggled at the image of Fontaine and Big Moss chaperoning knitters going wild.
He grinned, chuckling a bit. You both fell into easy conversation, comfortable and familiar as you passed the blunt back and forth.
In the background you heard Stacy and Big Moss talking shit and a Lauryn Hill song played. Fontaine glowed in the low light of single kitchen light.
"You want somethin' sweet?" You asked him, your appetite perking up. Fontaine made a low noise, considering?
He tamped out the blunt, "Whatchu got sweet, Lil'Bit?"
"Ugh, I demand a new nickname." You leaned over to grab the top of the cake container settled in the middle of the chaos, "How'd you feel about pound cake? I made the frosting too."
You didn't wait for his response. You cut two generous slices and put them on the same paper plate.
Fontaine passed you a plastic fork, "Can't do pound cake, I ain't lettin' no one else call you that shit."
You stared at him blankly for a moment before you scoffed, soon trying to smother your laugh into your hand. You stood to pour two glasses of milk,
"Well, I don't like Lil'Bit. It makes me feel like you don't take me seriously."
"I take you serious, 'Bit. Trust an' believe. I'm tryin' not to take you too serious."
"What's that mean, Fontaine?"
He tilted his head and gave you one of those faraway looks that meant he was choosing his next words very carefully. You sliced your cake into little squares and waited.
He reached out and took one of your hands it began to fidget, "That came out crazy. I dig you. I think you're somthin' special. I don't...want to run you off. 'Cause you ain't seen it all yet."
Turning your hand so you'd meet his palm to palm, your stared into his eyes.
"What is it that you think I need to see to make me not want you?"
That was a bit heavy handed, but you couldn't make yourself feel regretful if you tried. Especially when you saw his eyes train onto where you still held hands, not able to say anything.
"I don't mean to force you," You said softly, "I just wanted to let you know how I feel. That I like what you've let me see so far and...I would like to show you more of me too."
His brows rose and you sighed, "Alright, I'm a few double-shots down---Okay? I can't dismantle every innuendo."
You were glad to see his face soften, the hand around yours holding a bit tighter.
"It's all good. I'm looking forward to what we'll show each other next."
He lifted your hand, paused a bit, then pressed a kiss to your knuckles.
He promised to think of a name that would 'better suit you'.
Your heart sang at the nearly bashful look he shot you and suddenly you couldn't wait to see how many nights you could get this man to kiss you over dessert.
You kept yourself present, though. Fontaine seemingly done with words as he turned back to his cake. He was content to hold your hand, rubbing his thumb along your knuckles.
There was still more words to be had, but there was always tomorrow.
This, right now though, was one exciting start.
-----------
notes: PHEW! this one was a longer one. thank you for reading all of this, i just really wanted to write something holiday themed for Fontaine. Any feed back is welcomed!
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imarvelatthestars · 7 months
Text
A Little More Alive
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Pairings: Tai x werewolf!Reader (gender neutral)
Warnings: sfw - mentions of animal hunting for sustenance (not pleasure), brief depictions of brief body horror (human to wolf transformation) but nothing explicit, Tai and reader are both "outsiders" and receive some poor treatment because of it, mention of side character's death (again, not explicit), happy ending
Notes: this is not a part of the Tai Saga, but is its own and entirely separate story made specifically for Halloween/autumn time. However, I did add a few nods to the story here and there. (I'll probably be writing lots of little Tai stories from here on out that aren't connected to the saga, just fyi.)
Recommended Listening: Beyond the Forest by Howard Shore (or Feast of Starlight).
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The people in this town are a fearful lot - superstitious, suspicious of everything and everyone around them. They fear the woods more than anything. There is some sense in this fear, after all there are things that lurk in the shadows there that no human ought to comprehend. But the woods are not evil. They bring life to everything they touch, shelter for those in need, food for all, and the forest floor is often dappled with puddles, creeks, and ponds.
To you, it's home. Cool in the summers, pleasant and abundant in the spring and autumn, but the winters are hard. You tend to spend your winters in town instead because here there are fires, hearths decorated with cast iron pots that overflow with stews and warm, hearty meals that fill your belly and leave you satisfied. It's not so bad here. But it is lonely.
There is no family to stay with, no parent to hold you on chilly nights and now siblings to offer their comfort when you fall to your lowest, and there is no one to tell your secrets to. The townsfolk are wary of you, but friendly enough when they need to be, when they want something from you.
"Stranger, I need a hare for my family." "I need a deer for the equinox feast." "Get me the best fowl you can find, hunter, and I'll make it worth your while."
Not all of them are greedy, but most of them are. Not him, though. He's not like the others. The chill of the autumn and winter months lingers in their eyes year round, but his eyes are warm. They remind you of the undergrowth in the forest. The frogs and their tadpoles bathing in the mud, the squirrels and birds that build their homes in the tree trunks, the color of the leaves as they turn and fall. The hearth in midwinter, when the fire is sparking and the wood turns to embers, and the bread bakes in the oven and cracks and steams in your hands. He's kind, this man who sits in the dirt everyday and asks for the things he cannot afford.
You wonder if a man like him, with kindness in his bones, would still be so if he knew your secret. If he knew who it was that left him scraps in the dark of the night. You hope he isn't like the others in this regard, but you're too afraid to ever try and find out. For now, your secret is safe and your friend is, too.
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This night is the first that's been properly cold. The weather has been fickle this week, hot one day and cool the next, but never dipping too low. Tonight, however, it's caught everyone by surprise. Some families haven't gathered enough firewood yet, so their chimneys aren't smoking. The few stragglers still out after dark are shivering in their boots, too cold to notice the shadow darting by or the coat of wolf fur around your shoulders.
You make into the forest and strip off your clothes, fold them neatly and tuck them into a hollow in a fallen trunk, then you lay out the fur on the moss and curl up on top of it, waiting. It takes a moment for you to relax, but once you do, you feel something stir deep in your stomach. You've waited too long to transform, put it off for too many days. It's going to be painful this time.
And it is. Your bones creak and snap before reknitting themselves into a wolf's skeleton, this is how it always is, but it hurts so much more than it has in ages. Your joints are sore and your gums hurt where your teeth have transformed into canines, your spine aches right where your tail sprouts out, and your muscles are on fire. But finally, it's over and you feel like yourself again.
The moon is only half full and doesn't illuminate the earth enough for human eyes, but for your eyes it's perfect. You can hear everything, every twitch of a whisker, every twig snapped underfoot, every heartbeat going pitter patter, and you can see the glassy, frightened eyes of little critters hiding beneath overgrown ferns.
You hunt. There is an old hare whose mate died earlier this month. HIs sorrow is so strong that you can smell it and it makes him slow. It's better to take his life than the life of the mother around the bend; she guards five tiny little hearts going pitter patter and that is a line you cannot, will not cross. You thank the old hare for his life and the life he will now be able to give to others, and then you move on. His body rests by the tree trunk that holds your clothes. Soon he's joined by a pair of chipmunks, a squirrel, another hare, and a bird whose wing never healed right. Most of your finds will go to those in town - the single mother making stew for her children, the angry old grandfather who lives in the smithy and yells at everyone, the young widower and his baby girl - but you always save something.
The chipmunks and bird are dropped off first, then the squirrel, then one of the hares.
"There you are," he rumbles, the tiny fire he's built illuminating the dimples in his cheeks when he turns to look at you. "Was wondering where you'd gone off to."
Your paws pad lightly on freshly fallen leaves, and the hare falls at the man's feet. You nudge it lightly with your nose before sitting back on your hind legs.
"For me, hm?"
You pant. It's your way of saying "yes, of course".
"That's very generous for an old veteran."
If you were human, you'd roll your eyes. As a wolf, you settle for a moody huff and leave it at that. He often says things like this when you come visit him, that he's old and not worth your time, that a handsome young wolf like yourself ought to be spending time with its pack instead of visiting him. He speaks sometimes of days long past when he was younger and stronger, a soldier in the Emperor's legion, but never enough for you to grasp what happened to him or why he's now a pauper who can only beg for scraps.
But you can sense things in this form that your human form can't. All your senses are more finely attuned, sharper, clearer. You can smell the pain he hides. It's stronger when it's cold. Perhaps the weather makes it worse. Whatever it is, it's in his leg. It seems to radiate from his ankle, up his shin, and into his thigh.
"You must be hungry after all that hunting," he says as he pokes at the fire. The tray he uses to collect coins and food from the locals is balanced above it. He then pats the space beside him. "Stay. We'll share."
A wolf's face cannot flush with heat or embarrassment the way that a human's can, but the quickened beating of the heart is the same, the rush of hormones in the blood. Do you panic, do you stay, do you go? You want to stay. You like him. He's the safest thing you have beyond the forest. But he's no fool. He must know you're no ordinary wolf. Wild wolves aren't like you, they aren't nearly as friendly and nowhere near as considerate. And he speaks to you like you understand him, like he can hear the very human thoughts running through your head.
"Stay, wuruhi. I won't bite." His tone is soft and his mouth is smiling. He probably thinks he's funny.
"I shouldn't be seen with you," you say, but it comes out more like "rrrrrgh oooowa". It could be dangerous for him if you linger. But then you pause, trace your eyes over his profile as the fire illuminates it, you see the creases by his eyes and the gray in his beard. You wonder if he's as lonely as you are here. You wonder if it wouldn't be so bad to stay for a bit, just this once.
You huff again, somewhere between irritated and resigned, and walk around the edge of the fire to come to his other side. You have to be gentle, you don't want to jostle him too much and make him hurt more, but finally you find a comfortable position and rest your chin on his thigh. The pain still radiates through his sinew and bone, but you sense his body react to your warmth almost immediately. Hopefully this will help.
The night is soon filled with the smell of cooked rabbit. He feeds you for the first time since this unofficial partnership began. He's hesitant at first, and wisely so, but he doesn't need to be afraid of you. You'd never do a thing to hurt him.
It's easy to drift to sleep then with your belly mostly full and the fire warming your paws and nose. His body is soft and comfortable, like something you've been longing for all this time but never even knew was possible to have. His hand is broad and warm when it settles atop your head just between your ears, and you find yourself thinking that this is... nice. Better than the forest and better than the tavern full of raucous drunkards.
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Everything is warm when you wake up, almost stiflingly so. Your entire torso is nearly overheated, although your limbs and nose are a little cooler than that. Your first thought is that you added too many layers when you went to bed last night, but then you properly open your eyes and see that you're outside. It's startling for a moment, but not entirely unexpected. You've fallen asleep outside after more arduous transformations before. But that doesn't seem right. You don't remember falling asleep in the forest, and you realize now that you're not even in the forest, you're...
The weary veteran is snoring behind you. The sun has crested above the trees and hilltops and distant mountains. It's daytime and the moon is gone, and you're still a wolf, but you're out in the open. Exposed. Visible. Vulnerable. His little camp is just on the edge of town by the main path that leads to other towns and kingdoms beyond this one. Anyone could see, anyone could ask.
You wriggle up and out of his arms in an instant, tail tucked between your legs as you start to panic. You're so disoriented from your heavy sleep that for a moment, you can't remember where your things are. Your clothes, your shoes. The things that make you human. Where are they? What if someone sees you? What if they know, somehow, just what you are? What if, what if, what if-?
The leaves and dirt scrape and shift behind you, and you turn on your heels, teeth bared and ears pinned back, ready to fight, only to see him. The veteran. His bark brown eyes and ember sparked freckles. His hands are raised and he's withdrawn into the little fence he'd fallen asleep against.
"Easy, wuruhi, easy. 's just me."
Your mouth snaps shut and your ears prick forward a bit. You'd never hurt him. Never. It hurts to think that you've scared him, but you don't have time for this, you have to get out of there before someone sees.
He tilts his head to the side just slightly, likely eyeing the fur that's raised along the ridge of your spine and tail. "What's got you worked up? Hm?"
A rooster crows just inside town. A sharp breeze whistles between the houses and barns. The nearest house creaks when its front door opens. You turn to run and you don't look back.
You make it back to the tavern and you don't leave until hours later, not until your heartbeat has evened out and the adrenaline has stopped pumping through your veins and you stop hearing voices clamoring to chase you out of town.
That was too close. You let your guard down. You can't afford to do that again. As much as you don't like some of the people here, this town gives you a purpose to focus your time on, people to interact with and casual friendships to make, the money you need for clothes and finer, pretty things that you aren't able to craft.
You sigh as you press your forehead to the door of your room.
You can't let yourself close to him like that again. It's not safe for you and you can only imagine what might happen to him if he were seen interacting with a creature like you...
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Monsters. Beasts. Demons. These are the words the folk in the tavern use when they tell stories late into the evening and the days grow shorter. "Beware the wolf that roams these woods" is the warning bestowed to travelers. "He'll tear your throat from your chest and feast on your heart." They laugh and shiver and drink from their tankards, and then one will nudge another and say, "and avoid that old beggar on the road."
Those stories hurt more than the ones they tell about your kind. You know the truth of living a life half between wolf and human. You were never cursed by a witch, never damned by the devil, nor abandoned by your mother for being the foul offspring she never wanted. You were simply born like this and your family was lost long ago to hunters and soldiers, fearful townsfolk like these who start at every shadow. But the things they say about the man with the gentle eyes and tired smile makes your blood boil.
They don't know what they're saying, who they're speaking in the presence of. They don't know that he's yours to protect, or even that he's worth protecting. All they know is their simple, pathetic existences and crass jokes made into beer foam and hissed between moldy teeth. They're fools.
But some good still comes from their mockery. It reminds you that the "old" beggar is still alone, probably wondering what happened to the wolf who fell asleep warming his injured leg. And he's probably hungry. It's been several days since you brought him something.
You eye the credits you've most recently earned and count them up, then catch a glimpse out the window. Sunset isn't for a few more hours; you still have time and opposable thumbs.
Hardly an hour later, you've purchased a bundle of potatoes, turnips, apples, and old bread, and are marching out to the edge of town. It's nerve-wracking, this decision to finally interact with him as a human, and you're half convinced he'll see right through you. He won't, of course, he has no reason to even suspect you, but you're nervous all the same. Your stomach's all knotted up and your heart's in your throat. So many "what-ifs", so many worries and anxieties, so many unknowns, and it's stupid really because he's always been kind and gentle, never been a threat to you. Why do you even care so much about how he might react?
"Hello," you say when you finally see him. It's about all you can say, but it's embarrassing that it's all you can muster for your very first conversation.
He doesn't start - must have heard you coming - but he does look curiously at you. As if he can't figure you out. Or maybe he thinks you look familiar. You really, really hope that isn't it.
His response is halting and unsure. He nods at you. "Hello."
Your arm shoots out of its own accord and the bundle swings wildly in the air. "I thought you might be hungry."
His eyes flicker, sizing up the bundle, sizing up you, curious, searching, questioning, but... grateful. It's not easy to miss the way his shoulders relax and slope just a bit. "Thank you. That's very kind."
Your body switches to moving on instinct and you soon find yourself on a knee, just across from the spot where you'd fallen asleep with him before. The bundle is handed over and the new rabbit skin gloves that cover his knuckles catch your eye. Roughly sewn, some fur missing in spots where his knife or your teeth must have caught, but clearly made by his own hands. It strikes you as oddly sentimental despite being the smartest, most logical thing he could have done. He didn't make them because the hare came from you, he made them because he was cold and winter is coming, you know this, but still. He preserved your little tooth marks. He keeps them close to him. It may mean nothing to him, but you find that it means everything to you.
So you return to him once night falls and the moon is out, against your better judgement. You can't help it. You want to see him again, you want to see if he enjoyed the food, if your human presence is something he wouldn't mind sitting with again.
"How is it?" you ask when you come trotting out of the woods, but it's muffled by the critter in your jaws and comes out something like, "ghghghgh ooofgh".
He smiles when he sees you. "There you are, little one." He scratches you behind the ears before you've even dropped it for him and it's so embarrassing, but your tail starts wagging. Like any number of the stray dogs that enjoy attention from the townsfolk, even from you. "'s good t' see you again," he chuckles.
Your nose nudges the sack of food from earlier, played off to look as if you're curious or seeking out an interesting smell.
"You smell that, huh? It's from a friend."
I know. But it makes you feel good to hear it.
"It'll make a good meal for us, eh?"
And it's then that you wonder when you went so soft for a man you hardly know. He cooks for you and tells you stories while you lounge at his feet. He tells you about his big brother, Appo, and his commander, Rex. He tells you about the blade he took to his shin and the cannon explosion that sent shrapnel into his knee. Most importantly, he tells you his name and it's something you immediately tuck inside your heart.
It suits him, this single syllable.
"It means 'the coast' or 'the tide'. It was my father's tongue." He seems distant when he explains this, like he's no longer here with you. "He was from a land far, far away from here. An island kingdom. Full of warriors and great chiefs."
You rest your head on his knee and exhale softly through your nose. "Tell me more," you whine. It's a tricky translation.
He doesn't seem to understand you because he shifts and runs his palm over the scruff at your neck. "I know several tongues, but I don't know yours. Don't even know your name." He smiles, Tai smiles, and scratches your shoulder. "Don't suppose you'd ever tell me, would you?"
"I'm a wolf," you grumble, something like "ooowa woogh", which only makes him laugh.
"Perhaps one day, wuruhi iti."
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He does eventually learn your name, though he doesn't know it belongs to the wolf that visits him most nights. There are moments when it seems he might, when he looks at you for a little too long in either form and you think your cover is blown, but it never is. He remains steadfast long into winter and you remain his, loathe to admit it though you are.
And then the worst happens. The shadows become too dark and too long, and the townsfolk become too afraid tucked away in their timber and stone homes, huddled around their hearths. Maybe you became too at home in the warmth of Tai's fire and you let yourself get lazy when it came to covering your tracks. But one day the people present arms and they come for the wolf they've heard tale of on the darkest nights.
You don't realize what's happening at first. You think maybe you've missed out on another festival with all your distractions of late, so you follow the crowd to the fence at the edge of town.
"Find the wolf!" someone shouts, and your blood runs cold. Several silver blades are brandished in the air.
"Get up, old man!" "Tell us where the wolf is!" "Give up the monster!"
Tai. Oh God, they know. How could they know? You were so careful. Had you really become so careless?
He struggles to his feet with a grunt and leans heavy on the fence. His eyes are tired in the light of their torches, weary and unsure. "What is this?"
The mayor steps forward. "Where is the wolf, old man?"
This the moment you've been dreading. He's sure to give you up, any human would. To them, you're just another monster that stalks their dreams and lingers at the forest's edge. You were foolish to ever think otherwise, even for him.
But when you turn to leave, he speaks. "What wolf?"
You pause, back still turned, too afraid to see his face, too afraid to hope.
"The werewolf. Your hellhound."
Tai scoffs. "I have no such thing." You turn.
"Liar!" One of the local women scrambles through the crowd then, her torch burning brightly as she brandishes a pitchfork in her other hand. "I saw you! You were talking to it, casting spells into the fire!"
"I am no witch, nor am I warlock or any other caster of spells. I'm simply a man."
"Are you lying to cover for the creature?" asks the mayor, now getting so close that his spittle catches on Tai's beard. "Or are you one of them? A demon sent to damn us?"
How can they say such things? How can they even dare to think them? Do they not see? Can they not comprehend? Have they no fear? If he were really the wolf, shouldn't they be afraid of his wrath? Or has their stupidity outweighed their senses?
To his credit, Tai doesn't rise to his bait. "You'd like that. Wouldn't you?" He smiles, but his dimples lack their usual depth and his eyes are cold for the first time. Cold like freshly dug earth over a grave. "I'm as human as you are, Lord Mayor. And even if I knew where your so-called beast was, I wouldn't say."
He's a better man than you are. Because you are seconds away from ripping this town apart.
"You'll tell us."
He just blinks. It's not a verbal refusal, but it's as clear as day. Their search ends with him.
But stories like this never end there, do they? You've heard of them from other wolves, ones less fortunate than you. Humans, when pushed to the limits of their wildest fears, are more monstruous than any wolf you've ever known. You know bloodlust when you see it, you know it because you feel it now, bubbling and broiling inside you as you fight with everything you have not to let it consume you. You know this town is dying of thirst and they will see red tonight, whether it's your blood or someone else's.
You run. You're not even out of sight, you're simply tucked under the roofing of the nearest dwelling. You pull your clothes off with enough force to tear them and you don't even bother with your undergarments, you just throw the wolf fur onto the ground and curl up on top. You gaze up at the sky where it begins to turn from pale blue to midnight black, and you summon yourself. It's all a rush of adrenaline and blood in your ears and fur melding with skin, senses coming into focus, limbs shortening, growing, folding, until you are one with yourself again, and then you howl.
There's no need to translate it, they all know what it means: death. You skirt around the edge of the crowd with your teeth bared, snarling, snapping at anyone who dares to step too close, and you barrel right into the mayor, knock him down so that he tumbles into the fence and takes it with him. The torch goes flying, the silver blade in his hand drops, and he screams.
You never liked him anyway. Too greedy and conniving to care much for the people of this town. His life won't be missed by many.
When you've had your fill, you saunter off of his body and begin to pace the gap between Tai and the others. Most of them are horrified, too shocked to even move, let alone try and fight you. Good. There are a few here that you've come to like during your stay and you'd hate to kill them. But you will. As a wolf, your life centers around your pack. The pack is yours to protect with your life, and this is the promise you have sealed with the blood of a human. There is no going back.
"Let him go." They don't understand you exactly, but they get the idea. Tai is off limits.
It takes a while for them to back down. They could perhaps overpower you, but you think the sight of their leader bleeding out has put them off attempting anything more without him. The torches become distant dots of light as the people retreat to their homes. Doors and shutters slam shut, the whole town goes quiet, and the sun falls below the horizon. The only light left is that of the stars and the embers of Tai's fire.
You pounce on him the moment you deem it safe. He yelps a little at first, startled and very probably afraid of you, but you don't care. Better afraid than dead. All that matters is seeing if he's safe. Your tongue is darting out across his skin, your nose sniffing under his tunic and his beard. Is he safe, is he safe, is he hurt. It's all you can think. Even if he hates you now. Even if this was all for nothing because you took a life for him and by human standards, that should disgust him. Even if you never see him again after this night, all you need to know is if he will survive.
He starts saying words. They sound so foreign to you that you think at first he's saying his father's tongue, the language he sometimes mumbles in or uses to call to you. But no, it's your name. Your real name. The one you gave him as a human. The one he isn't supposed to know is yours.
His hands come to gently cup your cheeks. You're still a wolf, yet he holds you now as if you were as human as he is.
"Is that you, wuruhi iti?"
What do you do? What do you say? "I killed someone for you. I'd die for you. You're mine, do you understand?"
Tai says your name again and the entire world stops. You whine. This is so much more painful than you thought it would be, this not knowing.
"It is, isn't it?"
Your tongue lolls out a bit when you whimper. "Yes, yes! It's me!" You want to howl it from the mountaintops, but you settle for licking his nose and panting.
He smiles. His cheeks dimple, and his eyes are the same type of warmth you find in the fires he's been lighting for you for the last few months, sparking the kind of embers you didn't even know you were capable of. He's warm again, not cold like the steel of a wolf killer's blade, but cozy like the forest floor after a day in the sun, soft like the hide of a hare. Home like the forest has always been.
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"How did you know?" you ask later under the light of the full moon, your wolf fur laid across the back of the stolen cart and your head tucked under his arm.
The town is long gone, so far behind you that it is little more than a bad memory, though you hope none of them gets a wild hair and decides to come after you. As far as you're concerned, this cart and the goods you stole from the mayor's house are yours and Tai's now. The horse, too. If anyone is foolish enough to try and steal from you, then their fate is on their own head.
He grunts. He keeps falling asleep on you, even though he's trying hard to stay awake. "Know what?"
You butt him in the cheek with your nose. "That it was me."
"Oh." Tai laughs. "It was your eyes. I'd know them anywhere."
Now that you're human, you can feel it when your entire body flushes. What a silly reaction to such a simple statement, but you can't help it. He's been so gentle with you since you transformed, never touching anywhere that might be inappropriate or too presumptuous, never lingering for too long, but always comforting, always there.
"Really?"
"You're different, ipo. Special."
A lifetime of hearing otherwise from other humans has you feeling utterly speechless and a little breathless at his admittance. "How so?"
He hums as he tilts his head back to watch the stars. "You took care of me. Still not sure why you did, but I'm grateful all the same." His arm tightens around your shoulders. "And then you came to me as a human and you looked at me, and I just knew. Couldn't bear to lose you after that."
Your throat is threatening to close on you, your eyes are misty. "Tai..."
"Something about you made me feel a little more alive and far less alone. Thank you."
There's something growing in your throat now, something beyond the tears or the awkward tightness they cause, something you've been hesitant to name but never hesitant to act on. Something you've known for some time but never dared to voice.
"Tai, I don't regret what I did." He looks as if he wants to say something when you pause, but he holds it for a moment, waits for you to continue first. "For those like me, other wolves..." And he doesn't cringe, doesn't shy away from the word. He stays. "It's a promise that you're part of my pack. I, I know that this is not exactly normal for you, and I wouldn't want you to stay with me if you didn't wish to, if perhaps you were afraid of me-"
"I'm not."
Your belly feels warm with this knowledge.
You may as well say it. With the stars in his eyes and the moon highlighting the swell of his nose like some majestic carving in a noble family's manor, he doesn't look like the haggard veteran you've always known him as. You see something beautiful. But then, he's always been sort of beautiful to you.
"I care about you. I'd kill for you, I'd do it all again, I swear, just to keep you safe. And if you don't feel the same, I would understand, but Tai." Why is it so hard to say? Just spit it out! "I think that I love you. And I would like to stay with you, however you'll have me."
You wonder momentarily if that sheen in his eyes is just the reflection of the moon.
"Wuruhi iti." His fingers are shaking when they trace your browline. "I'm an old man trying to make his way in this wide world. Why would you stay with me?"
You smile. "I happen to like you, old man. And you're not so old as you seem."
"Perhaps not, but there are others you might spend your time on. Younger humans, less damaged. Other wolves."
"I will go if you ask me to."
But please don't. Such a request would break your heart.
Finally, he shakes his head and your lungs surge with relief. "I could never. I'm too selfish." He slips something into your palm then, and presses your fist to his lips before settling it on your breastbone.
"What's this?"
He rumbles a bit while he tries to find the words. Is he suddenly feeling bashful? "Token of my gratitude."
The moonlight reveals a small piece of wood, sanded and carved so intricately that you can only make out all the details through touch. There are all sorts of whirling spirals and delicate lines latticing the wood, so many that at first you don't realize there's something more to the design. Then you raise it a little higher and squint, and you see the shape of a wolf's head come into focus.
"It's beautiful."
"Whakairo. Another piece of my father and the land he came from. These carvings were the ways which our ancestors would tell stories. This one is ours." He brushes his thumb over one section of the wood. "Our fire." Then to another section. "The hares and the turnips. And you."
Every inch of your body is about to burst from beneath your skin. How are you so fortunate to have met this strange, wonderful man? But - "Where are you?"
His hands closes around the wood. "I'm here." Then he reaches, slowly, waiting until you nod to move any further, and taps his fingers on your collarbone. "And here. If you'll have me."
You will always have him, and he will always have you.
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māori translations:
wuruhi - wolf
wuruhi iti - little wolf
ipo - beloved, sweetheart
whakairo - carving (the wh- is pronounced like f-)
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my submission for @anxiouspineapple99 's big clone halloween party
prompts: werewolf + "something about you made me feel a little more alive and far less alone"
& "i saw it happen" (reworded into "i saw you") from the @clonexreaderbingo event
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tai taglist: @dystopicjumpsuit @clonemedickix @multi-fan-dom-madness @deejadabbles @moodymisty @rain-on-kamino @temple-elder @wanderer-six @jambolska-grozdova @bambambunny @andrakass2 @wings-and-beskar @arandomnerdsblog578 @roadara23 @wizardofrozz @kakashibabe02
please let me know if you would like to be added to or taken from this list!
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sunny's favorite asukiess creations
hearth (18,589 words)
Because how do you describe a dream once you wake up, when it’s fleeting and slipping through the cracks in your mind like it’s a sieve? You can barely wrap your lips around the concepts and words before you realize it has slipped through like water, and what lay in your hands is just a pang in your chest? When every moment away from it clouds your mind just a little more, until the memories are threadbare? or: Adrien understands what it means to have a home.
Back when I first met Autumn I was on a reading spree and I saved this fic for last and it just completely stunned me. I remember whipping out a textbox page to annotate for my comment, and that's what kicked off insanely long commenter™ Sunny. No matter what Autumn says! This! Is! My! Favorite! Autumn! Fic! At least until I see the secret one she won't let me see... but no, it will always be special to me.
the secrets we keep (14,661 words)
In the wake of a summer that Adrien never wanted to end, all that he wishes to push away comes back to haunt him when the school years starts again: self-doubt from identities that feel no more real than anything else; ghosts of parents who still talk to him; and most all, a fear that the people he loves will leave him in time, too. however, maybe the person who can relate most to him is the one he's never far from.
The best memories of reading this fic as Autumn wrote it and chatting about it and being teased with every Félix mention and being in love with her mind forever and always... if you've ever liked an asukiess meta post or idea post you'll love this. Combination of all of those beautiful things.
wip i saw as of yesterday
Perhaps premature to put it on this list but I have to include it because it was a taste of AUTUMN ORIGINAL WRITING!!!!!!!! AUTUMN ORIGINAL CHARACTERS!!!!!!!! And theater kid Autumn, too. Autumn could be published... Autumn could do anything... if those fools don't get it I'll start my own Autumn publishing company...
switching shenanigans (1,337 words)
Félix.............. first Autumn Félix.............................
felinette fics
FERAL EXPLODE BOOM DECEASED GRAVE HEADSTONE FIRE HOUSE EMOJIS
The art piece whose WIP inspired a fic out of me which was Autumn and my friendship's origin story... FUCKING NATHALIE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I accept this. Such a drop dead gorgeous piece.
The most insane fic ever with the most insane fic art ever... WITNESS!!!!!!!!!!!! THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
EEEEEEEEEMOOOOOOOOOOTIOOOOOOOOOOOOON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I love how much Autumn loves this piece, every time she reblogs it it makes me happy. Get some horror in this Felinette tonight.
POLAROIDS I LOVE THEM. LOVEYBUG AU WEEK I LOVE YOU
Can you even function after looking at this. They. Shrimping.
HE'S EVERYTHING TO MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
This is criminally underrated... Look At Him. HIS FUCKING BUNNY
I ran out of link blocks but I also wanted to share Unrequited. HAMBDS.
AND AUTUMN'S SUPER SECRET LOVEYBUG ZINE WIP
AUTUMN AND HER CLASSICS!!!!!!!!!! AUTUMN AND HER HUMONGOUS BRAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I worship this. It's all Autumn, I just helped with images.
Okay, I was slightly more involved with this one, but Autumn's contributions literally made it 1 billion times better and I will forever cherish the memory.
Hnwhnfhwnfjgnhsnghsnhsfshwhgwnhgwghgh... Emilie...
autumn's felinette and adrifelinette thoughts
Just in general. I am so lucky.
autumn's friendship
I scrolled through our pinned messages and almost cried laughing...
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ladytesla · 3 months
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The Great Faerun Baking Show (part three)
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For those of you who are just stopping by, I had a horrible idea a while ago and this is the result. I have no idea what's going to happen or who's going to win. I’m just going to roll a D20 ‘bake check’ for everyone and write out the results, including what everyone rolled so y’all know I’m not cheating just so my druid boyfriend can win.  The person with the lowest total score (out of a possible score of 60) goes home.
We've got the main 6 companions, Jaheira, Halsin, Minsc (and Boo), Minthara, Dammon, and my tav Medora (who y'all can just pretend is Alfira if you don't want someone else's tav in the story, since they're both female bards)
Week One, Cake Week: Star baker was Karlach, Minthara went home
Week Two, Biscuit Week: Star baker was Halsin, Shadowheart went home
Week Three: Bread Week, or "No you can't use Mage Hand to knead your dough"
Signature: Cottage Loaf
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Astarion: Sun dried tomato and paprika. Unfortunately somehow he never turned on his oven, so all he had when time was called was a big ball of dough that wasn't able to be judged.
Dammon: Greek spices and olives. Or whatever the Faerun equivalent of Greece is. Maybe Waterdeep? Anyway, there were a few too many olives and it was a little underbaked, but it wasn't too bad.
Gale: He really wanted to keep with a magical purple theme, but ube and red onion really don't vibe with each other. It was way overworked thanks to the mage hand he totally didn't use to help with the kneading process.
Halsin: Rosemary and wild mushroom. All of which he'd gathered himself, of course. Nearly perfectly done, and beautifully decorated with little sprigs of rosemary.
Jaheira: Cinnamon pumpkin bread. Very autumnal, but the moisture in the pumpkin threw off the consistency of the dough and left it underprooved. The decorative pumpkin seeds on top could only hide so many sins.
Karlach: Jalapeño cheddar. Just the right amount of heat, from someone who's an expert on it. She even decorated it with a few slices of jalapeño for presentation.
Lae'zel: For some reason she decided to put smoked salmon, herring and tuna in the same bread to make a fish loaf? It was also underbaked, and didn't go over well at all.
Medora: Saffron, rose and pistachio bread. The rose was a bit too overpowering, and the loaf was overworked. It looked nice, though.
Minsc: He used Indian spices in his bread like garam masala and curry powder, which gave it a really unique flavor. It was slightly overprooved, but overall a successful loaf.
Wyll: Gluten-free garlic and herb. He wanted to challenge himself to make a classic flavor more available to those with dietary restrictions (because he is a Very Good Boy) and it was a resounding success. He earned a Hollywood Handshake for his efforts.
Technical: Baguettes
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I was surprised to find that the lowest roll for this round was an 8! So they all did pretty well. I think that, from now on, if there's a tie I'll roll for them a second time. The second roll won't contribute to the score at all, it'll just determine the order in the technical.
Worst to best:
10. Halsin
9. Dammon
8. Astarion
7. Karlach
6. Minsc
5. Jaheira
4. Lae'zel
3. Wyll
2. Medora
Gale
Showstopper: Bread Sculpture
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Astarion: He recovered from his disastrous signature round to make a masterfully-done sculpture... of himself, with a dagger in one hand and a glass of wine in another. He had to reference the face from a sketch someone had made of him, but thankfully it had been a skilled artist. Paul and Prue had to look really hard to find a flaw.
Dammon: He made a bread dinosaur. A stegosaurus, to be exact. And thanks to its sturdy bread-roll legs, it was able to stand upright unaided. The tip of the tail got a bit burnt, and to save it he'd had to take it out of the oven underbaked.
Gale: He made Elminster's hat, and colored the bread with paprika and cayenne to get the red color. It ended up being quite lopsided, unfortunately, and overworked.
Halsin: His owlbear was incredibly detailed, and the garlic chip decorations he used for some of the feathers accented the flavor of the bread wonderfully. Some of the chips had browned a bit too much on the ends however, so it wasn't perfect, but it was close.
Jaheira: She had a rough time this round. Dropped one of her doughs so she only had two to work with and underbaked her sculpture of a tree so badly that it had to be propped up to stand upright.
Karlach: She made a tower of bread skulls, with one of four different flavors. And tiny grassini breadsticks to represent swords and spears. A mammoth undertaking that she pulled off very well.
Lae'zel: Unhappy about her gingerbread dragon, she was bound and determined to make a dragon right this time. And thankfully, she succeeded. Otherwise she would have continued to make dragons until she got it right. The bread was quite spicy and had chili peppers in it for good measure, but the heat wasn't overpowering at all.
Medora: She attempted to make a lighthouse on an island. It was really precariously tilted to one side, and the bread making the lighthouse was underbaked, but the bread the island was made of tasted fine.
Minsc: He made a giant bread version of Boo the Miniature Giant Space Hamster. Which he presented next to the real thing. It was a huge loaf of bread so it was underbaked in the middle, but it was visually impressive.
Wyll: His bread version of the Ravenguard family crest had a braided border which took a lot of time. However, with the added colors in the dough to bring the crest to life, Wyll was still able to make something delicious and very nicely baked within the time constraints.
The Results:
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Our star baker for the week, with a score of 52/60, is Wyll!
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Unfortunately, with a score of 23/60, Jaheira has to leave the tent.
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Feel free to play along in the comments! How would your tav or favorite npc compare?
Let's fuckin go we're doing pies and tarts next.
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not-poignant · 1 month
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Hi! Is there going to be a break between TND finishing and TUP launching? Adore all your stories - much love!🥰🥰🥰
Hi anon!
Yeah there's definitely going to be a pretty significant break! I need to get my story load down pretty drastically, so I don't think I'll be able to add The Prince's Son back in until Blue, Gold or Black are finished in the Underline the Rainbow series.
I'm hoping my future line-up which is many months away will eventually be something like:
Palmarosa
Underline the Silver (this or Red will likely replace Black)
Underline the Red
The Prince's Son (once a month updates)
Constellations and/or other Falling Falling Stars extras (once a month updates)
And pooooossibly Smoke in Autumn going onto regular rotation.
A Stain that Won't Dissolve is over halfway now, it's reasonable to think that might actually be finished by about chapter 50 or a bit before. Underline the Black is well over halfway, and we're actually sliding into our final act. Blue and Gold might actually be still going at that point but they're not as taxing as some of the regular stories I'm working on every month! They're pretty relaxing to write.
The reality is that I've been working way too hard for a little while and rather than just like... go on complete hiatus, which I can't afford to do financially anymore, I will not be replacing every story I finish with something else.
I'm in a group with a lot of other professional serial writers on Facebook and when the question 'how many projects / serials are you working on right now?' comes up, most people are working on 1, or 2-3 at most. And then I come in and I'm like 'I'm working on 8' and then we all sit there and stare at that like 'damn boy you're going to collapse if you keep doing that' to which it's like oh I already have. x.x Whoops! It is a problem entirely of my own making, I'm excited about all of these stories, and it's really only sheer willpower that is stopping me from also working on Red and Silver and The Prince's Son etc. at the same time.
This is also to give me more time to rest but ALSO to work on editing Game Theory which has honestly ground to a complete halt!
Anyway there's some shifts happening, they're a few months away, and The Nascent Diplomat isn't officially finishing until May (on AO3), and I actually think by then I'll have a better idea of what's happening.
Hopefully! O.O
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kissmejusttokissme · 2 years
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Right, lads, you know that twilight steddie au I keep banging on about? Well, I might have actually started writing it... just, a lil bit. And I'm not sure how long before I'll have enough to start posting it on AO3 (I think I want to make sure smoke signals and waiting room are finished before anything else) but I do have a lil prologue teaser to post and here it is:
On his first night back in Hawkins, Steve Harrington climbs out of his bedroom window and takes his car out for a ride.
It’s been almost a year since he’d last driven it and he can tell by the way it’s handling that his dad hasn’t kept up his promise to take it out now and then. But, then again, why would he? The only promise that Steven Harrington Sr has ever kept in his life is the one he made the first time Steve failed a class. “Do it again and I’ll make your life hell.” And, well, the rest is pretty self-explanatory.
Once or twice, Steve has wondered if his dad ever actually loved him. He’d put money on the answer being no. That the only reason that Steve even knows his father is down to obligation. His grandfather was the same. So, maybe it’s a generational thing. Maybe Harringtons aren’t built to love each other. There’s a thought. Maybe they aren’t built to love anyone.
Except Steve kind of loves his mom. In that very hands-off way that his mom has built up over years of only seeing him during the summer and limiting conversations to three sentences or less. But Steve would be sad if something happened to her and that in itself feels like a success.
He needs to call her and tell her that he got back safely.
She probably won’t answer but it’s the thought that counts.
Steve drives aimlessly for a bit, circling the streets around his house, before turning off towards the town centre feeling bittersweet. Two years ago and there would have been a long list of people dying to see the prodigal son of Hawkins High. God, there might have even been a party to welcome him home.
They weren’t good people and he probably would have ditched the party halfway through the night, but there’s something to be said about being wanted.
Hawkins hasn’t changed much in the year that Steve has been away. Small towns never do. It’s the same thousand buildings and the same thousand families that have lived in them for decades. Most of Steve’s teachers had taught his dad and if they haven’t, they’ve taught some other person whose standard he’s supposed to live up to.
He pulls into the one twenty-four-hour gas station that Hawkins has to offer and fills his tank. It’s hot out despite being the first week of September. Checking first to make sure no one is around, Steve lifts the bottom of his t-shirt and wipes at his face. It’s not like he has much of a reputation to protect anymore but old habits die hard. He’s supposed to be the ultimate cool guy after all and cool guys don’t wear nerd shirts gifted to them by the fifteen-year-old they babysit and melt in the autumn heat.
Brushing a hand through his hair, Steve opens the gas station door and grabs a soda on his way to the counter. If he plays it right, he could spend at least two hours at Skull Rock before his dad even notices that he’s gone. Smokeless for once but Steve’s a big boy. He can sit with his thoughts for a couple of hours if it means not going home.
“Pack of Marlboro Lights as well thanks,” he says, putting the soda down on the counter. “And, uh, full tank on pump four.”
It’s rude of him, he knows that, but it’s only when he finishes speaking that he actually looks at the clerk for the first time. Too easily distracted, that’s Steve’s problem. So he spends most of his time ticking off the steps in his head while doing them. Easier that way but manners get lost sometimes.
Then again, considering how his brain turns to mush the minute he does look at the clerk, maybe it’s not such a bad idea.
Standing behind the counter is the most handsome man that Steve has ever seen. He’s about Steve’s height but his mess of brown curls, so long that it’d make Steve’s mom lose her mind, adds a couple of extra inches. He blinks at Steve lazily, eyes so dark brown that someone could get lost trying to find where the colour meets the black, before turning and reaching for the cigarettes, the bottom of his work shirt riding up so that Steve gets a glimpse of black ink against pale skin.
Steve knows that he has to pull himself together because in a minute the clerk is going to turn back around, but damn if it isn’t hard to pull his eyes away from where that tattoo disappears under the fabric of his jeans.
“Got an ID for that?” The clerk asks as he puts the cigarettes down on the counter.
Steve nods and fumbles with the fake ID in his wallet. If his heart is beating a fraction too quickly, it’s just because he’s worried that the clerk is some graduated senior who’ll remember him. Not that Steve can imagine this guy has ever stepped foot in Hawkin’s high. He looks like he’s been ripped from a million-dollar oil in the Louvre.
“Harrington,” the clerk says, his voice low. “Sounds familiar.”
“Probably cause of a cousin or something.” Steve swallows down the feeling he gets when the clerk gives him a once-over. It's jet lag. That’s the only answer as to why he’s acting like this guy is some girl he’s hoping to impress. He’s just a guy, Steve reminds himself. A beautiful guy with shining silver rings on each of his fingers and another tattoo poking out from under his collar, but a guy nonetheless. “Or someone else. I think it’s a common name.”
“Or,” the clerk leans forward so that he’s inches away from Steve’s face. “I know you from Nancy Wheeler’s stories.”
“You know Nancy?”
“That surprise you or something?”
“What? No, I, uh-” And, yeah, it’s closed-minded but the idea of Nancy being friends with this does surprise Steve. The whole time that Steve has known Nancy, she has never strayed far from the academically minded folk that share her AP classes and spend their free time bulking their college applications with extracurricular activities. Steve had been the one exception and that had been a blip.
“Are they bad stories?” Steve asks, desperate to escape the awkward silence that has fallen over them. “Not that it matters, cause- I mean- If they’re bad it’s because I was a dick, so, it’s my own fault.”
The clerk is still leaning forward, hands gripping the edge of the counter to keep him from falling, and he takes a long moment to just look at Steve. Those dark eyes searching Steve’s face for something. And then he steps back and shrugs.
“Some of them.”
“Oh,” Steve says. “Uh, well that’s better than all of them. Right?”
The clerk tilts his head to the side and Steve wants desperately to reach out and push the hair that has fallen across his face.
“Am I alright to get those, then?” Steve asks when the clerk doesn’t say anything. “Just cause I’ve got somewhere to be.”
That seems to shake the clerk out of whatever thought he’s stuck on because he runs a hand down his face and then nods. “That’ll be seventy-five dollars, cash or card?”
Steve hands him a wad of cash left over from his mom and reaches out for his ID but the clerk gets there first. He brushes his hand, pale skin as cold as the soda Steve is holding, and pulls back quickly.
“Sorry.”
“Are you?” The clerk asks and Steve hasn’t got a clue what to make of that. He just stands there awkwardly and waits for his change. Like a kid standing in his parent's doorway waiting to tell them he’s thrown up.
“This is a shitty fake, by the way, hope you didn’t pay much for it.” The clerk says, pressing both the ID and change into the palm of Steve’s hand. “I know a guy and if you paid more than thirty for that, you got ripped off.”
“You think?” Steve asks, shoving the contents of his hand into his pocket.
“I know,” the clerk says. “I can get you a better one if you want.”
“This really the sort of thing you should be saying at work?”
The clerk grins, pearly white teeth sharp against his lip, and Steve feels blessed to have seen it. “You’re so right, Stevie. Oh, how I’ve seen the light.” He shakes his head, still smiling. “Just think about it, alright?”
“Alright,” Steve says and he knows that he’ll be thinking about this whole thing for the rest of his life.
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new-eyes-extra-colors · 6 months
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4 7 15 and 20 for Autumn! Hier sind kekse.
[meta asks for writers]
4. Share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like)
I'm pretty fond of this monster of a sentence from my very first draft of WBotB:
"So instead of knocking, he’d turned quietly on his heel and stepped outside for a cigarette. But nicotine couldn’t quell synthetic nerves, so he’d been leaning up against the brick face of the building fiddling with his lighter and trying to decide between a second useless smoke and marching back to her room to make sure she was alright and to tell her he understood when she’d pushed open the front door and turned immediately to him with something approaching relief written on her face."
It's unlikely that I'll keep it, since in the moment Nick is relaying something that's already happened and in the present draft we're just going to be there for that scene, but it's a good sentence I think.
7. What do you think are the characteristics of your personal writing style? Would others agree?
I'd like to think I've got a snappy and to-the-point writing style that really gets across what's going through the characters' heads--even if I'm longwinded and like digging into weeds and minutiae, I hope I don't make things drag too much.
15. Which is harder: titles or summaries (or tags)?
Ugh, titles. Every title I come up with is a placeholder for a long time. Like, What Becomes of the Brokenhearted was Until Dawn until right before I published the first chapter (and it's still tagged as that on this tumblr). Ghost Lights needs a snappier (and more relevant) title and Eye of the Storm needs a less sinister one. It's just something I have to let percolate for a long, long time.
20. Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?)
There are a lot of birds-as-portents in WBotB, especially crows. Speaking of that fic, it's very interconnected, with lots of callbacks to itself as well as to in-game events that don't happen on-page, to the point that I'm actually having to balance what I include so I'm not either 1. reiterating game events that don't need to be reiterated or 2. reiterating so little that what story is left doesn't make sense. I guess an understood caveat of fanfic is you should be familiar with the source material, but I'm also running everything past a beta who's never played Fallout 4, so...
Probably my favorite friendship development in it is Piper and Nora. Nora sees a lot of herself in Piper--as the responsible older sister--and relates to her on a very personal level. A lot of Nora's past with her own sisters affects the way her relationship progresses with Piper, and she's able to come to peace with some of the things that happened while helping Piper. Ultimately it's just a very sweet friendship that I hope others like reading about.
As far as other fics go, there's a lot of interconnectedness in Eye of the Storm too. One of the characters in the first chapter even says "Everything's connected somehow." There's also a theme of cycles, and that everything that has happened before is happening now will happen again, and that it takes awareness and a conscious effort to break a cycle--but it can be done.
I'm sure I'll come up with symbolism for Ghost Lights but at the moment it's just an action- and violence-filled romp. Maybe it's about the power of friendship; we'll see.
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loststarphounix · 1 year
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Kitten's Cream
Rating: Explicit
Pairing: Soda Kazuichi/Tanaka Gundham
Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Supernatural, No Game Spoilers, Were-Creature/Were Panther, Were Panther!Gundham, Semi-Shift sex (like he partials but not all the way), Monster Sex (lite - again he isn't full shifted lol), Hand Job, Rimming, Ball Sucking, Fingering, Anal Sex, Cream pie, penis gets large at some point (I'm blaming it on shifter stuff shhh)
Summary: Kazuichi is caught unawares by when coming back from a party on a full moon night.
Read on Ao3
Authors Note: This is based on my own personal AU headcanon where Gundham is a were-panther and he shares a body with Abysmal Wrath, the manifestation of his animal instincts. I'll probably share more of that later - but its Halloween and I wanted to make something with it and with his more animal impulse side - aptly named Abysmal Wrath. Please enjoy!
A plastic cup was forced into his hand. Kazuichi grimaced at the lukewarm liquid that splashed onto his fingers. His stomach rolled traitorously at the mere thought of drinking beer. This halloween party sucked - no one was even in costume. He doesn’t know how or when Leon got alcohol, but it seemed to just never run out.
Even as he thought that, more bottles of beer and soju were produced seemingly out of thin air, causing several loud, drunken voices to shout exuberant cheers. It made Kazuichi’s face scrunched up as once again some asshole pushed up against him, reeking of booze. He glowered at the solo cup.
Fuck, he needed some air.
Placing the still full cup onto a clutter table, he began to make his way out of the party. It was too much tonight and he dodged questions and Leon’s teasing about being too much of a wet blanket to actually party. Finally, he was outside and he could finally feel himself relax in the crisp autumn night. Rummaging through his pockets, he pulled out and lit a cigarette. 
As he blew out a plum of smoke, he started towards the campus dorms. Up above, the moon sat full and heavy, emitting an eerie yellow light. Its round, smooth surface pulled the corners of his pinched lips down. 
Almost a full two years had passed since he had started Hope’s Peak, and when he discovered that his then rival-turned-friend-turned-boyfriend Gundham Tanaka, was actually a were-panther. It was completely by chance and not what he had thought would be the chunnyboi’s ‘forbidden dark secret’.
Shit, he still can’t believe that it’s real and not some elaborate stunt and he’s seen the other boy transform while busting out of his clothes like something out of a horror flick. But he took it in stride - as well as Kazuichi can take anything scary in stride - and the two shared the secret to ensure that the breeder wasn’t caught and killed.
How they got together, the mechanic still doesn’t know, but apparently to everyone else the writing was on the wall. And once he got his shit together, he went for the plunge and confessed to Gundham. It did not end how he expected. 
Gundham had been so damn chivalrous at the time; wanting to keep the other at arm's length in fear of what his primal instincts would do. But the mechanic refused to just let it end like that once he got his shit together and with the surprising ally of Abysmal Wrath, he managed to bag the nerdiest but kindest guy in the whole school.
He basically got two boyfriends to the price of one and he can’t see it as anything but a win.
Reaching his dorm, Kazuichi dug into his pockets again for the key, when suddenly the door was forced open from the inside. He stumbled, nearly falling on his ass, before strong hands circled his waist and lifted him up. Panic swept through the mechanic’s body, before he let out a relieved sigh when he saw it was Gundham who caught him.
“Babe! You scared the fuck outta me!” Screeched Kazuichi, halfheartedly smacking the other’s chest.
A laugh, dark and velvet rich made tiny sparks of pleasure jolt down the shorter male’s spine. The hands on his waist squeezed, fingers momentarily digging into the flesh on his love handles, before they slowly trailed up and under the graphic tee he wore. 
Kazuichi blinked. While they have fooled around a bit, Gundham was still very much against extensive pda. And Kazuichi got that - not everyone craves physical contact like he did. But the breeder still was reserved, even when they were alone in the safety of their rooms. 
He looked up as the questing fingers continued to pinch and move, surprised to see bright, amber gold glaring down at him instead of the usual silver eyes.
“ Abysmal …” the word formed on his lips, but nothing came out, but he was still rewarded with a savagely wide grin that displayed all the breeder’s teeth. “Byss!”
“Good evening, Kitten.” The taller purred, leaning down to brush their lips together in a fleeting peck before rubbing their noses in greeting.
Kazuichi froze, surprised, his brain not understanding why the other in front of him instead of outside, running free. Abysmal should have been prowling the zoological sanctuary on Hope’s Peak campus, hunting and scaring the resident animals. 
Then it suddenly hits him. It was a full moon tonight. 
The instinctive half of his boyfriend usually had full control on the first night of the full moon, but they usually switched and it never surprised Kazuichi if one moment he was talking to Gundham and the next he was to Abysmal. The only time he didn’t pop into existence was when he and Gundham were intimate - and not because he found it uninteresting but because the breeder had immense self control. Kazuichi had tried to convince his boyfriend to let his other side have a little fun, but he refused; claiming that his other side would not be able to control himself and prevent unneeded injury to their lover and to never provoke the inner animal to do so. He saw how concerned and shook the other seemed at the idea and let it go.
But now he was here and it didn’t make any sense. How could he here, standing in front of Kazuichi, in human shape instead of being on all fours and sporting a black fur coat?
Fingers tighten and dig into his side. Kazuichi startled as he felt himself being drawn closer to the broad chest. A hand lifted up and hooked his chin between long fingers.
“Kitten… reek of alcohol.”
The voice - so the same but so different in candor and tone - dripped down his body like molten honey; even with the warning tone underneath it. He let out a shuddering breath as he subconsciously leaned closer.
“Some ass spilled beer on me. I didn’t even drink tonight.”
He didn’t know why he admitted that last part, but it felt like the right move as the other pulled him flush against his body with an inquisitive hum.
“W-why are you here?” He asked, suddenly timid as he was all but herded into his room. The sudden thought of lambs and wolves came to mind.
Abysmal found his hesitance amusing, continuing to push him inside as he answered, “Me? Oh, no reason really…”
The room was dark and devoid of light aside from the moon and street lamps outside. The sound of the lock engaging sounded much louder than it actually was and the mechanic nearly jumped when he felt the other presence crowding his back. Lips ghosted against his ear, making goosebumps prickle the back of his neck.
“I came calling to see my little Kitten, only to find his room completely empty.” A hint of disapproval colored the man’s voice and Kazuichi scrambled to explain.
“It was just some party Leon invited me to. Didn’t like the vibe so I left.” He tried to shrug, but the other had trapped him in his arms, locking him in place.
Abysmal nosed the nape of his neck and tipped it to the side. The low growl of approval made him shiver.
“You still left.”
“B-but I’m back now?” He whispered, throat suddenly tightening.
Again, the thought of wolves and sheep came to mind.
Dark laughter, so quiet Kazuichi could’ve sworn he imagined it, played across his ear like music. The arms around him tightened and the smooth slide of teeth nipped his ear.
“But you’re back now.” Abysmal agreed, voice rumbling.
It was at that moment that Kazuichi heard the distant sound of a trap snapping shut.
Fingers curl and fisted the front of his shirt, before they pulled harshly. Ripped fabric fluttered in the air and Kazuichi gaped. He turned around, ready to scream at the other for ruining one of the few shirts he owned, before he was picked up and thrown across the room. A scream leaves the mechanic’s throat as he sails towards the bed, landing gracelessly and just managing to avoid hitting his head against the wall.
He barely had a second before Abysmal was draped over him, tearing off the remaining fabric and jerking his jeans down. Moving to stop the other, he’s stopped as a hand grabs his wrist and pins them over his head. He starts to struggle, but freezes at the warning growl - a real, animalistic growl erupted and echoed throughout the room. Yellow pinprick flashed dangerously into the semi darkness, making the bottom of his stomach tighten.
“Behave.” Yellow eyes darkened into near pools of darkness as Abysmal leaned down to gently nip the plush bottom lip.
Shivers rack through Kazuichi's spine at the commanding tone. His body relaxed underneath the other, and Abysmal stared him down for a moment before slowly moving his hands to cup the other’s neck.
“Stay.” Was the only thing he said, before he moved again.
Kazuichi watches the were finally wrestle his jeans off him. Hands - now much larger and thicker than before, was he actually changing holy shit - descended upon his body, grabbing and pinching nearly every inch they could reach. He groaned as elongated fingers pinched his nipples, a blush spreading across his chest as Abysmal chuckles from above him. 
Fingers tickled his side, before they wrapped around his cock and his hips involuntarily jerked up. He wanted to wipe that smug look off his face but then he twisted his wrist and all thoughts of violence vanished. 
A whine left his lips as the other slowly dragged his hand up and down, using a finger to follow the line of his vein and causing pre to already start leaking. He fidgeted, not use to being so still and wanting to reach up and touch his boyfriend. But he doesn’t, because Abysmal told him to and is rewarded with the other speeding up.
It didn’t long for him to cum - he had been horny and hadn’t seen Gundham for a couple of days. He let out a groan as his cum coated the hand wrapped around his cock, making it glide even faster. It didn’t take long for his flagging erection to return to full mast as Abysmal ran a thumb over the slit, slightly digging it and producing a bead a cum.
The hand removes itself and Kazuichi catches himself before he disobeys the previous order by almost reaching out to put that hand back on his dick. Abysmal laughs, more amused than anything, as his lifts the soiled hand to drag his thick tongue across each finger, not breaking eye contact. The pink haired man felt his blush deepen, but he didn't move as the other finished cleaning his hand, before moving a bit to the side and unzipping his jeans. Kazuichi gets on his elbows and watches as the other undresses, having a slight moment of irritation on the fact that only his clothes get shredded, but is immediately distracted by a well defined chest. No matter who’s in charge, Kazuichi will always admire and gawk at the tall, broadly built body above him.
It didn’t take long for the breeder’s clothes to join the ragged stips of cloth on the floor. In all his naked glory, Abysmal climbed onto the bed and pounced on the other. Kazuichi wraps his arms around his boyfriend’s thick shoulders as the taller one zeros in on his neck. He let out an inelegant snort. That was one thing both of them had in common: they liked to attack his neck.
Sharp canines nipped harshly at delicate pink skin, making the shorter man gasp first in fear and then in desire as a thick tongue swathed the area. Blood sluggishly trickles down his skin and he feels the trail being lapped up. Then he felt thin lips wrap around the wound and oh -
Oh he was gonna have a helluva hickey tomorrow.
As he started to suck harder onto the tender flesh, Abysmal began to position Kazuichi, prying open his legs widely. It was almost painful, but he was used to the burn and let the other push them even wider so that he could feel them just kissing the cool sheets. He watched as Abysmal stared down at his wet, throbbing erection and pink puckered hole - flushing when those eyes became darker with unrestrained lust.
“Beautiful.” He growled, his husky tone making the creeping pink flush darken.
And then he leant down and dragged his tongue across the quivering hole.
Gasping, Kazuichi instinctively moves to shut his legs, but Abysmal was already there - crowded in and refusing to let the shorter man close them. He swipes long strokes against Kazuichi’s hole, making it quiver and open a bit bigger the longer he goes on. Then he plunges it inside and Kazuichi grips the sheets in pleasure. The tongue retreats slightly, only for two fingers to slip in. And then the tongue makes it return on his balls and Kazuichi can't smother the scream that was building in the back of his throat. He was given a deep rumble in response, as Abysmal continued to eat him out while also sucking one of his lover's balls.
The stretching makes Kazuichi scramble for purchase and nearly rip his own sheets. A chuckle from below makes hot air puff inside him and Kazuichi writhes. Kazuichi moans as Abysmal works both his fingers and tongue in and out of his ass, thoroughly eating him out with reckless abandon. A wet trail dribbles out and he feels it and has a dawning realization that the other has so much spit coming out of his mouth that it's leaking out his asshole. Fuck, but that just makes it all the hotter.
Questing fingers bump against his prostate and he nearly screams as the claws barely scrape the bundle of nerves. It still makes him cum on himself, babbling and aching as he is eating out through his orgasm. Even when he was done, Abysmal continued, now adding a third finger and doing more stretching than actually exploring. Much sooner than he would’ve wanted, he felt the tongue and fingers retreat and let out a disappointed moan at the loss. Abysmal didn’t laugh at him this time - probably more to do with the fact that his own cock was painfully red and steadily leaking as it nudged against his thigh.
Before he can even blink, he’s flipped over and manhandled so that he’s on all fours. He feels the other hike his hips up so that he bends his elbows with his ass stuck in the air. Warm hands paw at his ass, making him flush from his face down to bottom as his chest.
Abysmal takes in his reaction with great relish, giving a cheek a sharp slap. “Such a pretty little thing I caught. And it's all mine.”
“You didn’t catch me.” Panted Kazuichi, turning slightly to lock eyes with his lover.
“Hmm…true. The cub got to you first.” He slides his paw like hands up so that they settle on a thick waist before jerking the other closer. Smirking at the sound of air leaving his mate’s lungs, he leans down to crowd over Kazuichi, before mouthing the shell of a pink ear. “But you’re all mine now.”
With no warning, Kazuichi felt the head of his cock right against his hole, before it slammed right into him. The breath let his lungs as his lover completely sheathed himself in one go. Because his hole had been so wet and stretched, it slid in smoothly, but it still took Kazuichi a moment to regain himself. But Abysmal didn’t give a moment.
He only took a moment to shift his position, before he began to drive into the warm body below. All Kazuichi could do was take deep breaths as the pace became faster and faster with very little time to get used to it. But this wasn’t his first rodeo with Gundham and his dick - his body was acquainted with the shape and length of him, so it didn’t take long for Kazuichi to get into the feeling of being fucked.
Soon, he began to lift his hips to meet the other and Abysmal let out a pleased groan as he sped up even more. He watched as the other’s face slowly changed - becoming more beastly. 
His pupils became slited and the eyes seemed to glow even brighter; face distorted into a half human, half animal muzzle, with hair popping out of his face and cheeks in a fine dusting. 
His fangs are fully extended and cut his bottom lip, and his hands have the shadow tellings of paws with claws popped out. Despite being all but a full on cat person, he somehow keeps the rest of the transformation at bay - his self control so strong that he can do so even partially shifted was impressive. 
Usually, seeing Gundham go through the shift scared the piss out of him. But now, as his prostate was getting hit repeatedly as he was fucked through it, Kazuichi found it a little hot.
Oh, he was really fucked up, wasn’t he? But he loved every second of it and was in good company anyway.
“Byss please! Don’t stop.” He panted, keening like a wounded animal as a large clawed hand shredded the pillow next to him.
A rough sound came from behind him, as Abysmal began to thrust into him harder, really fucking him raw. It was so much different than with Gundham, Kazuichi couldn’t help but compare it. Where the breeder was slow and sweet and a bit rough, Abysmal was all rough with tiny pockets of sweetness. It was maddening and Kazuichi felt like he was gonna die of pleasure.
“Kitten. Such a good kitten, submitting so pretty for me.” He growled, his words slurring as his canines began to protrude from his lips. 
Kazuichi moaned in reply as he bit his lip, trying desperately to smother the sounds escaping. But it was no use as Abysmal grabbed a fistful of his hair and jerked his head up. The shorter man let out a bellowing moan as his hair was pulled, the pain and pleasure mingling so sweetly that his toes curled in want. 
He clenched around the length inside him, causing his boyfriend to groan before snapping his hips, making them both jerk forward. Kazuichi let his head fall, now free from the others' hold but now letting the strangled moans and screams flow freely.
Thick drool begins to trickle onto his  bare lower back and Kazuichi shivers as they pooled and slid down with every harsh thrust. He went to touch his cock - now damp and near purple, but was slapped away with a warning growl. So he grabbed the other's thigh instead, causing Abysmal to speed up even faster.
Groans and gasps filled the room filled with increasing volume. Kazuichi’s body jerked with each thrust, absently thinking that the other was pushing harder into him more to prove a point than to actually bring him pleasure.
He gaped when suddenly, he felt the dick inside him swell - much more than it usually did when he had sex with Gundham. He didn’t say anything at first, because the thick girth was pressing oh so nicely against his prostate.
 But then one particular instance of an outward jerk pulled the rim to the point of pain that overshot the pleasure for a moment, which made the shorter man see stars as he breath left his lungs. He tried to wiggle out of the other's hold, but he was pressed further into the bed.
“W-wait! Too much too - Ah !” Kazuichi pleaded, arching himself off the bed. Panic and pleasure warred within him as he tried again to get away. “Ah!”
A large, claw tipped hand suddenly grabbed him and pushed him back into the mattress. More of the other’s cock entered him and Kazuichi’s mouth gaped open. Shit, he thought he had taken him all to the base already?
“Don’t try to run.” Came the distorted growl, the claw tips gentl piercing into the shoulder blade just enough to draw tiny dots of blood. Kazuichi let out another whine as Abysmal leaned down to lap them in apology, “You’re doing so well taking all of me in. Don’t disappoint me now, Kitten.”
Fangs gently nipped at the nap of his neck and Kazuichi went limp, letting the pleasure and his boyfriend dictate what he should do. A low rumble of approval vibrated from his back, before he felt the other speed up his movements. Kazuichi had to hold onto the ruined sheet with the power of the thrusts. Then he felt the pressure build up again, before he finally bottoms out.
Shit! Kazuichi’s eyes widened, his heart hammering.
If he wasn’t full now, he was completely fucking stuffed now. He could feel his hole spasm at the width and girth and his cock - which had started to wilt - throb and steadily leak a small puddle underneath him. A small noise of distress escapes him and Abysmal slows his movements down just enough to give him a moment. But Kazuichi doesn’t want to stop - not when he feels so impossibly full .
He pushes back, groaning as the small inch that Abysmal had removed sinks right back into him. Abysmal hisses a strangled moan and it emboldens him. Slowly, he pulls himself only a few inches off, before slamming back again, this time making claws score down his sides and it adds to the pleasure.
It was as though this was the sign his lover needed, because with a huff, Abysmal grip tightens on his middle before he pulls Kazuichi harshly towards him. With no warning, he starts to rail harder into him, keeping close enough so that only very little of his cock left that tight hole at a time.
Kazuichi’s breath left him at the harsh pace. Never had he actually felt this used before - so full and still hungry for more. It was driving him crazy. He weakly tried to shove his back to meet him thrust to thrust, but his own energy was waning and Abysmal was keeping him locked in place. He laid there, cheek pressed into the bed and drool seeping out his mouth as he made keening noises almost akin to that of a dying animal. There was so little space between them that they were basically humping each other at this point.
All of a sudden, as he was roughly lifted up. Kazuichi scrambled to hold onto his boyfriend’s body close as he was brutally fucked from behind. The new position brought more pressure against his prostate and it made his horace voice stutter into a broken scream as it was continuously assaulted. 
Suddenly, with an embarrassing and earth shattering force, he abruptly came. He let out a long moan in surprise as his cum shot out and landed into a messy stain onto the mattress. He shuddered, pathetically whining as a his prostate was still being stimulated by the now ridiculous size of Abysmal’s cock.
He leaned back, only being suspended by the other’s strength as he head lolled. Abysmal nosed his check, before jerking it away and sinking his teeth into the crock of his neck. Kazuichi let out a pathetic mew as he felt the fangs sink into his flesh and the blood sluggishly trail down his shoulder as the other still continued to fuck into him.
Then, Abysmal wrenched away from his neck and forced Kazuichi onto his stomach. Holding him in place, he shoved into the mechanic twice more before stilling. He let out a yowl as he came into Kazuichi, his fangs pressing another mark into the other’s shoulder blade as he continued to pump cum. His claws extended and ripped large chunks into the mattress and sheet.
Kazuichi shivered and whined as it happened, mind foggy from the multiple orgasms to even be completely there as stayed locked together for several minutes. Finally, his boyfriend retracted his fangs from his shoulder, a shuddering groan leaving Abysmal at the taste of blood. He gave the wound a loving lick, before he pulled away. 
No longer being held up, Kazuichi collapsed onto a heap, only having enough strength to turn his head so he didn’t smother himself. Above him, Abysmal unsheathed his claws from the mattress, starting down at his prone, shaking body with that eerie gaze. 
A pressure from within eases slightly as the other pulls out of his entrance with a sloppy and loud pop and Kazuichi shivers. He vainly tries to squeeze his hole shut to prevent the cooling cum from leaking out. A trickle still travels down despite his efforts, before two fingers probe and push the leaking fluids back in almost roughly. 
They even enter and two fingers stretch him open, causing more to leak. It causes his hole to spasm and his eyes rolled to the back of his head at the over stimulation; making him flop his head back and releasing ragged breaths as the other continues to push them back in. 
Several moments pass before he can’t take anymore and shies away from the invading fingers, letting out a noise of relief when they finally retract. With the fingers out, Kazuichi can finally collapse on the bed in a heap. His breathing is uneven as he tries desperately to regain his senses.
He hears another rumbling purr, that is so loud that the whole room seemed to shake from it. It sounds like it has the undertone of immense satisfaction. 
Or maybe that was Kazuichi’s post nut imagination. He distantly heard muttered praise as a hand gently ran through his sweaty mane.
“Such a good mate. Took me so well and didn’t even complain. Kept me all in that little pretty hole. Such a good baby girl.” He praised, nuzzling into the smaller man’s sweaty pink hair, the purring somehow louder than before.
The pet name made his dick twitch in interest, but he was still recovering from the back to back orgasms to even think about touching it. Instead, he weakly pushed the other away, who only pouted over the shaky mechanic’s pitiful attempt to crawl away. He made no move to help and even let out a little snicker when Kazuichi flopped back down helplessly.
Kazuichi panted as his fingers uselessly splayed on the ruined mattress, shame coloring his ears and watering his eyes. His first real night like this with Abysmal and he can’t even crawl to a dry spot literally an inch away. Not to mention how battered and bruised he felt now and would probably look like he escaped a full on mawing from a wild animal tomorrow. 
Fuck, he really needed to get to that dry spot and catch some sleep.
Groaning, Kazuichi moved to roll away from the cooling puddle of cum underneath him - fuck crawling his diginity can be bruised a bit- and froze as a large, elongated hand rested on his whole thigh, pinpricks of the unsheathed claws having just enough pressure to be made aware of their existence. 
Breath stuttered as it quickened in anticipation and he looked up to see the half transformed face of his boyfriend staring him down with laser focus. Now he looked more beastly, his features less human and even had his goddam tail swinging behind him like a pendulum. Fangs glinted in the scant light as he smirked down at the confused pink haired man.
“Not so fast, Kitten. I didn’t say you could go anywhere, did I?” Golden eyes glowed with an almost maddening hunger as Abysmal dragged Kazuichi’s frozen body closer. “I’m not through with you just yet.”
end
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manonoor · 1 year
Text
Unit 1/L3 He was floating when he felt something push him
1. How did dolphins protect Tariq?
- They made a circle around him and the shark couldn't get near him.
2. How was Tariq floating when he felt something push him?
- peacefully
3. Why did Tariq fall into the water?
- because the shark attacked him and pushed his airbed harder.
4. How was the morning when the shark attacked Tariq?
- a calm, sunny morning
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Unit 1/ L10 I'll always be proud of him proud
1. What did Safiya Al- Khouri ask Mustafa about?
- his address
2. Why did Mustafa decide to call the emergency services?
- because his mother was unconscious.
3. What did Mustafa do first thing when he woke up?
- He went to look for his mother.
4. Where did Mustafa's father?
- He was away on a business trip.
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Unit 2/ L2 A police officer's duties
1. Why do police officers look for evidence?
- to identify and arrest the criminal.
2. What do police officers use to identify criminals?
- they use evidence like footprints and fingerprints.
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Unit 3/ L10 Focus on careers- conference interpreter
1. Interpreters must have three active languages. (False)
2. Why did Samira read about the subject of oil?
- to be familiar with technical terms.
3. To be an interpreter, you need to have a degree in English and (a diploma in interpreting?
4. What does freelance mean?
- it means working when you want and working for any organization you want to work
for.
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Unit Five/L10 Why are holidays so important?
1. What do some people find out too late?
- there is more to life than work
2. What does the pressure of life cause?
- It causes severe problems like high blood pressure, which can then cause strokes and heart attacks.
3. What can high blood pressure cause?
- It can cause strokes and heart attacks.
4. What do we need to give families and friends?
We need to give them a significant amount of our time.
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Unit seven/L10 Using the library
1. What job did the writer work at first?
- He worked in a bank.
2. What did the writer give while he was working in a bank?
- He gave people information about their accounts and cashed cheques.
3. What job did the writer enjoy for a while?
- He enjoyed working in a bank.
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Literature focus
The swing- Mohammed Khudhair
1. Autumn dream is (one of Mohammed's best work.
2. In 1962, (Mohammed's first short stories appeared in 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑰𝒓𝒂𝒒𝒊 𝑾𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒓 (𝑨𝒍 𝑨𝒅𝒆𝒆𝒃 𝑨𝒍 𝑰𝒓𝒂𝒒𝒊) magazine).
3. In 1942, (Mohammed Khudhair was born in Basra)
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The Swing
1. Who are the main characters in the Swing?
- Sattar and Haleema.
2. How was Khudhair’s experience in politics and war?
- crude
3. I can see him coming towards us without (head) just like (smoke).
4. Who was called Sattar in the swing?
- Ali's friend and the mayor's son.
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The Canary - Katherine Mansfield
1. By 1903, Katherine (moved to London to study music at Queen's College and travelled around Europe).
2. In 1906, Katherine (returned to New Zealand and began to write short stories).
3. In 1908, Katherine (moved back to London).
4. How many years did her illness last?
- six years
------
The Canary
1. How did the canary greet the woman in the morning?
- He greeted her with a drowsy little note.
2. How did the woman use to scold the canary?
- by saying "you're a regular little actor."
3. How did the woman find the canary die?
-He's lying on his back, with his eye dim and his claws wrung.
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tayaminaka · 4 years
Note
headcanon, dazai, Fukuzawa, kunikida, chuuya and poe that S / O ends up dying in the birth of his daughter and ends up being born with a fragile health that in many times almost died as he goes about dealing with the death of his s / o? And the fear that your daughter will die? (Maybe I'll send more headcanons because I really like your writing ♥ ️ ♥ ️)
Authors Note : Finally I finished the oldest request. Sorry for the long waiting and thank you for your patient.
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Dazai Osamu
Dealing with your dead was already difficult for him but knowing that his little light might die too, terrifies him, even if you can’t see it
The first months after your dead your daughter slept with him in your once shared bedroom. He watched her sleep with empty, nearly dead eyes and hoped that every breath won’t be the last
Dying along with you would be a great option for him, than slowly rotting on the inside. But the thought of your daughter suffer alone and be fully on her own holds him back, letting him suffer with her
He would always fool around with her. Play pranks on Kunikida and then run away (everytime he catches them, Dazai becomes all the beating),telling her random things about people they see on the street or simply vibe with her
But the Agency sees that something is missing in his eyes, that something has changed but he will try to act like he acted before by pulling a smile on his face and acting like a fool
After the usual treatment in the hospital they both would go to the arcade and play games together. He would mostly let her win but not without a little challenge
When she gets sick he would sit beside her bed for hours, pat her head and give her either water or warm tea. But if your daughter has enough from the bed he would bring her to the couch, laying her head on his lap while covering her in a warm blanket. He would mostly either be half asleep or won’t sleep at all if she’s too sick
Every time your daughter is in a nearly dead state, he’s barely holding himself together. Mostly he just lays at home, while drinking himself to sleep, trying to silence the pain
But there is no day he misses the visit time. Even if there are days where he barely holds a smile up, he’ll be there to at least hold her little hand
On evenings, when he finished work, he would give her piggyback rides home. Most of the times she would already be asleep, leaving him with the sunset and the silence
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Fukuzawa Yukichi
Will hold her always close to him. Holding her little hand while they both walk, let her sit on his lap and hug him while he’s doing paper work or let her play in his office while he’s at work. As long as he can see or hear her everything is fine
Especially in winter and autumn months he would be extra careful. He knows that even a little cold can turn into a high fever so he will often, very often, pull the extra warm jacket out or put two pocket warmers in her pockets
But he still would go for a walk and pet cats with her. It is their favorite thing to do, especially after a stressful day at work or a boring visit at a hospital
If your daughter is upset and starts to cry because she needs to go to the hospital again to receive her necessary treatment he would put her on his lap, hug her while patting her head
He would always give her a little treat for every medical treatment she gets. Of course some treatments are painful and for everything he would get her a plushie. Her eyes always shine when he gives her a new plushie and that makes her day a little better
When his daughter is in a near death state he would brush her hand with his thumb, telling her that it will be fine and promising that the pain soon will be over
He won’t cry neither at work nor at home but if you look closely you can sometimes see a blis of sadness in his eyes. But every time he looks at your daughter something in him aches heavily
Sometimes your daughter would just fall asleep on his shoulder and he would cover her with his haori ,remembering how he once did it with you
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Kunikida Doppo
With a serious face he would try to hold himself together, don’t letting any emotions out. But on the inside he’s a complete wrack and mess
The director gave him some weeks off so he could collect himself a bit, even if it’s hard for him. The first days he tried to follow his usual routine but even that became difficult
He’ll always be really patient with her, allowing her to do with his ideals and schedules what she wants. Usually he’s really strict with that but how can he say no to her if she’s asking him for something
A walk is a must after treatments. Both have enough from the sticky medicine smell of the hospital so a walk on the fresh air is really pleasant, especially after rain
But will be really strict with her health. Will run always after her, be it telling her to take her medicine, put a scarf on or eat healthy
He will always be serious in the hospital and with the doctors. Somebody might say he doesn’t care at all, but your dead affected him deeply because this one time he hadn’t even the chance to save you
But every time his daughter is laying on that damn hospital bed crying, be it being in pain or because she’s upset, he’ll hold her close to him and stroke her hair, patiently calming her down
On some points he would just sit down, take off his glasses and just cover his eyes with one hand, questioning everything and thinking what he should do
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Chuuya Nakahara
Deep anger and sorrow spread trough him as he heard the news. How could this happen? Everything was fine, wasn’t it? But now it’s already too late and there is no turning back
For him it’s like somebody threw him in a cold sea without teaching him how to swim, watching as he slowly drowns in his hopeless thoughts
He would become colder at work, less talkative, more quieter and sometimes even absent-minded, dreaming about stuff that won’t come true
But on the field it’s the complete opposite. He’s more aggressive, letting out his anger and frustration on the enemy’s, only to go back to his usual quite state
Mostly if she’s sick or in pain he would take her in his arms and slowly walk around the house, humming a soft melody and whispering that everything will get better
After treatments at the hospital he would carry her home, pat her head and tell her that she did well and that he loves her. He would also do whatever she asks him, even if he’s busy. Be it let her float around the house or play with her for hours, he will let his paperwork lie on the table and spend his time with her
On rare nights were your daughter just can’t fall asleep he will put the warmest coat over her pajama and go for a little walk with her on his arms. He would land near the next wending machine and buy her a little snack or her favourite soda, even if it’s already past midnight
When she’s nearly dead, he would sit beside her, talk with her or play with her for hours even at night but when he’s at home he would just drink and smoke most of the time, not knowing what to do to distract himself.
And when the point comes that even the best medicine doesn’t help in his daughter, he’s ready to lay down his pride and enmity and ask the Armed Detective Agency’s doctor for help
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Edgar Allan Poe
His eyes are widened and he can’t even find words to say something. But when he realizes what he just heard you can see small tears fall from underneath his hair
He started to sleep and eat less, only taking care of your daughter. He stopped writing novels, so even Ranpo became concern about his state
He was lost and terrified about your daughter so he stopped everything, trying to fully concentrate on her
Only after a long time he started to write again. Your daughter would sit on his lap, curiously trying to catch his pen and making him smile with that
At night he would sit beside her bed, writing another novel of his. Your daughter always sleeps much better with the writing noises of his pen
Would fall into full panic if your daughter forgets her scarf or hat at home. He’s too afraid that something might happen so he would even run after her
Will go up and down in the hospital hallway, nearly having a mental breakdown of not knowing how to help your daughter if she’s in a nearly dead state
Sometimes if everything just won’t get better he won’t go out from his mansion rather just lay in bed all day.
When he visits her in this state, she’s gonna pat his head with her weak hand and teary eyes and tell him that everything will be alright
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rolandtowen · 3 years
Text
Prince Zuko was a harsh, entitled boy.
Firelord Zuko is a ruler who makes amends. - a study in the various side characters that Zuko came across in his banishment, and how he repays his past actions.
Read Chapter One on ao3 or under the cut! TW for referenced non-con and colonialism
[I believe @flamehotman and @flameomcfirey wanted to be tagged?]
Chapter One: Song
We will get there when we get there, don't you worry Feel bad about the things we do along the way But not really that bad We inhaled the frozen air Lord, send me a mechanic if I'm not beyond repair
- The Mountain Goats
It happened on a Tuesday afternoon.
Zuko was meeting with the agricultural council, a collection of both scholars and farmers, to discuss best practices for renewing the Fire Nations agricultural trade. For so many decades, the Fire Nation out-sourced its agriculture to land in the colonies and imported much of its food. But with the land being given back, the Fire Nation was either going to have to begin growing its own food again, or import their food at a fair price. The economic committee decided on Monday that reviving the Fire Nation farms would be far more cost effective - and of course, would create more jobs in the Fire Nation. With the war over, the number of soldiers that the military required had dropped dramatically, and there were many citizens without work. Zuko had instated severance benefits for unemployed soldiers - the ones not found guilty of war crimes of course, mostly the young recruits - but it couldn't last forever.
It was maddening. Every time Zuko unraveled one problem, he undoubtedly found or created another one. He was trying, really trying, to keep his people safe. But he also had a duty to the rest of the world. The nations that his lineage colonized, pillaged, and destroyed. He resists the urge to write to Aang, to ask him how he does it, how he balances all of the nations in every action he takes. But Aang is busy, all of his friends are, spread thin to the four corners of the world.
Uncle visits him occasionally, when the letters from staff concerned about Zuko's health pile up on his desk. One too many servants have found him, asleep at his desk, face down in treaty papers. But Uncle has his hands full. He already splits his time enough between the Jasmine Dragon and Ember Island, looking after Azula.
Azula.
She was improving, and that's really all Zuko can ask for. He sees her a couple of times a month, pours her a cup of tea, and they sit on the balcony of their vacation-house-turned-mental-retreat. Most of the time, they don't talk. Zuko won't push her; he remembers his silence in his first few months of being banished, how Uncle had to coax him to say anything at meals. Sometimes the only words he uttered in a day were in prayer before meditation. Zuko had thought to himself, speaking out got me into this mess: I'll never speak again.
He's not sure what words were exchanged between Azula and Ozai before he left her and went to burn down the Earth Kingdom, but he can guess it wasn't good. Few of his father's words were.
So they sit and drink their tea. Sometimes, on a good day, Zuko will fix up Azula's hair for her, and she'll reveal some bits of information that he files away for future examination. Something like, I saw Mom before you came with Master Katara. Or she'll double check her reality, asking, you let Ty Lee and Mai out of jail, right? and Zuko will say yes, her friends are safe, they should be visiting any day now.
As painful as seeing her may be, spending time with Azula is far preferable to sitting through an agricultural council meeting.
He looks down at the paper in front of him, a comprehensive budget list for all of the supplies needed to revitalize the Fire Nation's agricultural sphere. Dozens of machines that he's sure Sokka had a hand in inventing, hundreds of varieties of seeds that Omashu is generously selling to them, and -
Thousands of ostrich-horses.
"Councilor Yichen, can you elaborate on the number of animals in this budget? Certainly with the machines we'll provide, farmers will not need so many working livestock."
Councilor Yichen stands, giving a little bow in Zuko's direction. "Of course, Lord Zuko. While the machines will certainly boost productivity, we only have enough for one per farming village at this point. Each family needs at least one working animal, if not to plow the fields, then to transport goods. We decided on ostrich-horses on a recommendation from farmers in the Earth Kingdom colonies, who found them to be invaluable. An ostrich-horse is, in many ways, more valuable than a machine."
Zuko's stomach settles uncomfortably, but he isn't entirely sure why. "Thank you, Councilor. I understand now."
Yichen gives another little bow before he sits, and the rest of the meeting goes as planned, with the exception of a strange seed of unknown guilt now growing in Zuko's stomach.
"Uncle, do you remember when you made tea out of that poisonous plant?"
Uncle laughs, hands faltering as he pours Zuko a cup of jasmine tea. "I remember, Nephew. How could I ever forget?"
"Do you remember the girl who helped you?"
Uncle takes a sip of the warm tea. "Song. Her mother made the best roast duck." He looks at Zuko out of the corner of his eyes. "Why do you ask?"
Zuko looks out over the gardens. He's able to see the whole palace grounds from where they're seated on the second-floor balcony, watching the sun rise. As far as the eye can see, Zuko is upheld as a flawless ruler, his word taken as law. He's sick of it.
"I stole her ostrich-horse," he murmurs into his tea, taking a sip to calm his nerves. "I just remembered, in that agricultural meeting a few days ago. I - I never knew how essential those were to farmers, I just thought I was taking their ride." He turns to fully face his Uncle. "But I think I took a lot more than that."
Uncle meets his eyes with understanding. "And now you want to give it back."
"I know there's no way for me to fully apologize for how I acted in exile, but it feels like I have to try." The cup quivers a bit in his hands, and so his hands drop to his lap. "I'll need someone to watching over the Nation while I'm gone."
Uncle places one of his warm hands over Zuko's shaking ones. "I'm sure I can deal with your advisors for a few days." He squeezes his hand just slightly around Zuko's. "I'm proud to see that even in a few short months, your wisdom as a ruler is growing. Go, make your amends. The Nation will be here when you return." Uncle calls for Zuko's secretary and tells her to clear as much of the Firelord's schedule as she can for the next week. Their voices fade into the background as Zuko stares into his tea, wracking his brain to try and figure out how to track down just one girl in the entire Earth Kingdom. Sending scouts or soldiers from town to town is a recipe for disaster, and the Earth Kingdom villages have been traumatized enough. He supposes he could always call in a ride on his favorite air bison but - this feels like something he should do on his own.
If Song hates him, it might be hard for her to show it in front of the Avatar.
So he'll go alone. No friends, no royal guard. He'll come into Song's town the same way he came last time - defenseless. She can hate him if she wants, he'll give her that.
And he'll try to give back what he took from her.
He packs light, pulling an old tunic and boots from the back of his wardrobe. Though they've been thoroughly cleaned by the palace staff, the scent of campfires and smoke linger upon them. He grabs a cloak - the Earth Kingdom will be starting to chill at this time of year - and he slips out of the palace, using the servant's entrance to get onto the streets unseen.
Autumn comes quietly in the Earth Kingdom. The trees slowly lose their color, giving the last of their strength into vibrant leaves. Soldiers previously conscripted to fight in the war have either returned to their families or have gone to tend to the scorched earth where the Phoenix King made landfall. They clear the debris of fallen airships, making room for the earth to slowly restore herself.
Song envies those soldiers.
Their lives have changed with the ending of the war, but Song's life continues on, its mundane routine continuing over and over again. She cares for a small garden, crafts herbal remedies for her neighbors, and tries to make her mother comfortable. She curses the Spirits for their cruel sense of humor - her mother survives the greatest war ever seen, lives through the attempted invasion of her homeland, only to be struck down by frailty months after the end of it all. Hasn't she suffered enough? Song has whispered those words to the woods on her way to the well time and time again. Now, her body is just - stopping.
Her mother is dying and there's nothing she can do.
Song knows all living things have their time. And she's seen too many living beings go before their rightful time. But she never imagined her mother's time would be in a time of peace. Wasn't ending the war supposed to stop all this pain? Apparently not. She tries not to become bitter, knows that that's the last thing her mother would want for her, but - it hurts. And there's not a damn thing she can do about it.
The leaves from dying trees crackle under her feet.
She arrives at the well, alone. Her hometown is just barely beginning to wake up, rising from its slumber as mothers bring in dry clothes from the clotheslines and fathers begin to toil in the fields. Children run freely from street to street, with a joy that was forbidden during the Fire Nation's occupation. They're kicking at a ball, passing it from one pair of bare feet to another, and Song smiles at them. Someday, maybe.
She sets her water jug on the stone wall of the well and begins to lower the bucket before hearing the ball make impact and a man's voice grunt, "oof!". She spins rapidly around to see a young man, rear planted firmly in the dirt, one hand rubbing at his forehead while the other wipes at a watering eye. The group of children stand, frozen, and she gives them a look, and unspoken command to stay and apologize to the man they just hit with their ball.
"Here, take my hand," Song holds out her right hand, and the man takes it. When the young man meets her eyes, she almost drops him back in the dirt. He has those amber eyes, and she can just see under his loose hair - a burn scar. "Lee?!"
He stands, brushing dust from his cloak, and she catches the hints of red fabric that lie beneath. She recoils. He sighs. "Um, about that." Song sees his hands tremble against his cloak. "My name's not Lee - and I'm from the Fire Nation."
Song reacts as if she'd been slapped. She trips backwards, away from Not Lee, landing hard against the stone of the well. Her leg is aching, feels like its on fire all over again, looking into those amber eyes.
"How could you? I let you into my home." She braces her hands against the well, her leg threatening to give out at any moment. "Now it all makes sense, that you stole from me. That's all you ashmakers are good for." She spits, and it lands on his scarred cheek. "You take land that isn't yours, take women that aren't yours, you take lives!" Her leg finally collapses, and she sinks to the ground with her back against the well. Not Lee makes a move, and she throws her hands up. "Don't you touch me," she grits out, clutching at her leg. He stills, and she wraps her arms around herself, bringing her knees to her chest. "I pitied you, you know? I thought your mother must've been - I looked at your eyes and thought you were a victim like me, like my mother." Her whole body is trembling, but she doesn't care. "But I bet you know who your father is, I bet you're proud to have his eyes."
Not Lee mirrors her, curling in on himself, not even bothering to wipe his face clean. "I do know who my father is, but I'm not proud of him." He looks up to meet her eyes, and Song is struck by how young he looks. When she'd last seen him, he'd looked gaunt, malnourished, with sharp cheekbones. Now, his face had filled out and he looks - young? The scar makes him look older as well, but when you look on the opposite side of his face - all she can see is a kid, couldn't be older than a teenager.
And he was crying.
Stubborn as he is, Not Lee is resolutely ignoring the tears slowly falling from his eyes, but nevertheless - they fell. Song didn't expect that reaction. Tears are not what she expected from a Fire National. Anger, rage, violence - those are the things she's tasted at the hands of firebenders, but this? This is new.
"I'm sorry," Not Lee whispers, looking at his feet. "I came to apologize, I wanted to repay you for your kindness and return what I took. But I think I've overstayed my welcome." He scrubs at his face roughly with the heel of one hand. "But I am, truly sorry. I acted selfishly the last time I was in your home, and I took advantage of your compassion. And I understand that my nation has done even worse. I'm trying to make it better." He pulls his hair back with a band. "I know you have no reason to trust me, but I would like to purchase you a new ostrich-horse. And anything else you or your mother may require."
Without warning, Not Lee shifts from his seat position to a bowing one, kneeling with his head pressed to the dry earth. Song stares at him for a small eternity, before realizing that he's waiting, unmoving, for her response. For her judgement.
She lets out a small breath. "Okay," his eyes flick up to hers and her stomach twists. The way he bows is so precise - it must have been drilled into him hundreds of times before. Another thing she wouldn't have expected from a firebender. "Come to dinner."
He stands after she does and gives another slight bow. As they begin the walk back to Song's home, he offers to carry her water jug, and Song feels more weight than one lifted from her.
"What did you say your name was again, young man?" Mei pokes at Zuko's shoulder as she hobbles to the table.
"Mom, I'm sorry about her, she's getting older," Song sets a bowl of fragrant roast duck in front of him and Zuko feels his mouth begin to water.
"No, it's okay, I don't think I've actually properly introduced myself." He takes a quick sip of tea - bracing himself for whatever will happen next - and calmly sets the mug back down. "My name is Zuko," he begins slowly. "AndI'mkindoftheFirelord."
There's the sound of Song dropping a bowl in the kitchen, and Mei leans in a bit closer to Zuko.
"Sorry, dear, could you say that again? My ears aren't what they used to be."
Zuko opens his mouth to respond, but Song slowly enters the room, her eyes narrowed in on Zuko. "You said - you're the firelord?" He nods at her, waiting for her to swing a knife at him, kick him out of their home, call some earthbenders to rough him up -
Before his panic can start to set in, Song runs out the front door, slamming it behind her.
Zuko looks helplessly at Mei.
"Give her a moment." Mei brings her pair of chopsticks to her mouth. "Hmm, she still doesn't make it as well as I used to."
"What about you? Do you hate me?"
Mei sighs, putting her bowl down. "I'm too old for hate, dear. My time in this world is almost over. I can't spend it hating world rulers." She takes a sip of her tea. "But Song? She -" Mei sighs again. "She's been hurt deeply by the Fire Nation, in more ways than one. And it isn't just you. But for a long time, the monarchy has been the embodiment of everything terrible that's ever happened to her. And now you're here, standing in front of her."
Zuko nods. "I understand. And I am sorry, to you as well. I don't think I fully understood the reach of the war. I was always taught that the army acted with honor, that women and children were untouchable." He looks down at his folded hands. "I can see that was false."
"Unfortunately, you are correct." She reaches between them to refill Zuko's cup, then Song's, and hands them both to him. "Go to her. A bit of tea should help bring you some good favor."
The screen door opens and closes, and Zuko finds himself out on the porch. Song sits on the edge, absently massaging her leg, peering into the darkness of the forest.
"Can I join you?"
She shrugs, and he takes that as a yes. Handing over her tea, Zuko sits besides her and tries to find what she sees in the darkness.
For a few minutes, the only sounds are those of them drinking and crickets chirping. Then Song speaks.
"His name was Bao."
Treasured. Precious. Rare.
"That's a lovely name."
"What happened to him?" Song turns abruptly to look at him with shining eyes. "Did he...?"
Zuko shakes his head emphatically. "My Uncle and I traded him to a florist for safe passage to Ba Sing Se. The florist seemed like a good man."
"You went to Ba Sing Se?"
Zuko runs one hand down the back of his neck. "I might have conquered it, actually?"
Sing snorts. "That part I've heard about. You've lived an interesting life, Zuko."
"If by 'interesting' you mean messy, then yes." He sighs. "You had no reason to trust me. Why did you let me back into your home?"
Song laughs, tinged with bitterness. "My mother says I'm too trusting, too gullible." She swirls the dregs of her tea around the bottom of her cup. "But I think there's strength in being kind. And I really did want to forgive you. But you have to be ready."
"And do you think I am?"
She smiles softly at him. "For me, yes. But my guess is I'm not the only person you hurt in exile." She gulps down her remaining tea. "They may not be as forgiving as I am."
"I'm preparing myself for that possibility."
"Does it scare you?"
Zuko ponders it. "I think it does. The idea that I've hurt someone innocent so badly that they may never be able to move past it... that keeps me up at night."
Songs turns towards him, tucking her knees up to her chest. "We can't control how other people see us in this life. How they react to our actions is up to them - all that we can control is our response. You have to be ready to accept that someone may not be ready to forgive you, and you can't let that eat you up." She stares at him intently. "You have to confident that your own actions are enough. That they're good."
It's Zuko's turn to laugh sourly. "Easier said than done," his hand wanders to his scar. "Sometimes I'm still not sure if what I'm doing is right."
"You don't have to do it alone, you know," Song gives him an understanding look. "You need other people around you, Zuko, to remind you what's good."
He huffs, looking down at his hands, folded in his lap. "Do you want to be one of those people?"
"I think you have more than enough goodness surrounding you already. You just have to be confident enough to ask." She sighs, looking back out into the darkness. "Besides, I have to stay here with my mother. She doesn't have long."
"Are you sure there's nothing I can do? I could send my healers -"
She shakes her head, cutting him off midsentence. "It's her time." She begins to rub at her scars again. "I just didn't know how much it would hurt. We finally have some peace, and suddenly it's her time."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be, not for this. It's due to you that she'll be able to die during peacetime." Her hands come to her eyes, wiping tears away before they can spill down her cheeks. "Her biggest fear was that she'd die and leave me alone to fend for myself during the war. You released her from that fear. Of course I forgive you, Zuko. My mother's no longer scared of dying because of you."
The two of them are silent for a long time, watching fireflies flicker off and on in the trees, listening to the crickets sing.
"I'm going to find Bao for you."
Song looks up in surprise. "You don't have to-"
"I want to, I'm sure he's still out there somewhere." Zuko rises from his seat. "If you ever need anything, anything, you write directly to me. I'll tell my staff that you're a priority."
"Are you leaving?" Song stands as well. "You could stay, if you want."
Zuko shakes his head silently. "I have to get back, and travelling by night is best for a Firelord who doesn't want his identity revealed," he smiles, his scarred skin relaxing into it. With that, he pulls his hair out of its topknot, grabs his pack and swords, and starts to disappear into the night.
"Firelord Zuko?" He stops and turns back at the sound of Song's voice. She makes the sign of the flame and bows. "Thank you, for everything." He bows back, lower than protocol dictates, but he doesn't care.
Three weeks pass, and the air has turned bitterly cold.
Song again makes her daily trip to the village well, with snow crunching under her feet instead of dead leaves. The soldiers have returned from their work in restoring fields for the season, and so the village feels alive when she steps into it. Despite the chill, children still run in the street, under the watchful eye of their mothers and fathers. Song feels a twinge of longing, but she tries to focus on the happiness she feels for the children instead. Song sets her water jug on the side of the well, breathing hot air into her palms to warm her hands after touching the freezing stone.
"Excuse me, miss, are you Song?" A voice comes from behind her, and she turns to see two men dressed in red tunics.
"I am," she replies, tucking her hands into the pockets of her hanbok. "And you are?"
They bow to her. "We come on behalf of Firelord Zuko, to deliver a gift." A third man rounds the corner with an ostrich-horse on a tether. "We found him at a desert settlement, he's been well taken care of, but if there's anything you need -"
They're cut off as Song runs to throw her arms around the neck of the ostrich-horse. "Bao!" She strokes his beak, looking into his eyes. "Do you remember me?"
Bao cocks his head to the side, pupils widening as he chirps softly, and then he lets out a loud whinny, pushing his head into Song's chest. He purrs, closing his eyes and relaxes against her.
"Sweet Bao, it's really me, you're really home," Song can feel her eyes dampening, but holds it together as one of the men hands her a bit of parchment.
"A note from the Firelord. He wanted us to remind you that you can write to him anytime you need anything."
Song nods. "And tell him I said 'thank-you' again." Bao whinnies loudly again, and she adds on, "Bao says 'thank-you' too."
"Of course, miss." With a synchronized bow, the men depart, and Song unrolls the parchment.
Song,
I've followed your advice and surrounded myself with good people. It helps.
Give my best to your mother - my Uncle still talks about her roast duck sometimes. I've established a fund specially for women and child victims of the war, inspired by some of what you and Mei shared with me. Write me if you feel like you or anyone in your village wants to apply for it.
And, thank you for trusting and forgiving me. I'll try to keep earning it.
May the Spirits continually bless you,
Zuko
She tucks the parchment into her pocket, fills her jug, and finds herself back in Bao's familiar saddle after more than a year. "Come on, Bao," she says as she takes the lead into her hands, guiding them back to the empty farmhouse.
"Let's go home."
[if you read through this whole thing, go drink some water! I'll know if u don't :) ]
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batfamily14 · 4 years
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FINAL DAYS PART TWO
Jason Todd x reader
AN: alternate universe where the world is over throw by a deadly virus that raises the dead. 
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Three years ago
The ice berg lounge
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If I could melt into this room, I’d move around as easily as smoke. I'd be the haze of laughter and the smiles. But reality is not like my imaginary world. I’m invisible , nearly the shade of the room's walls and if my eyes weren’t widened with nervousness , I’d blend in. As the night goes on, I'll become more comfortable , just another intoxicated spirit lost in the glow. Right now though I’m a wallflower, back pressed against the wall with my cup close to my chest. The club shimmers like the Northern Lights; the dry-ice sculpted building blushes in an array of blues. The music is played over the lounge floor. The gleam of the camera flashes all around from outside. I rest my hand on the wall's artwork. It’s a painting of an older version of Gotham. I feel the dried paint brush my palm. Suddenly a stranger bumps into me and my liquid splattered all over the painting “Shit.” I gasp. I stand up unsure of what to, the stranger disappearing into the crowd. “Stupid, so fucking stupid.” I mumble repeatedly to myself. A sharp smell of earthiness wafts towards me, The sweetness of cool autumn air. I can’t help but follow the smell, I turn around to a younger man. His blue eyes stare at the painting , eyebrows quirking up questioning. I bite my lip looking him over, he had a tousled of dark black hair. His eyes were mesmerizing , flecks of green mesh with the blue. His face was strong and defined. I was broken from my trace when I noticed his serious expression. “You know this painting was a gift.” He says, taking my cup. His hands are cold against my skin. “I’m-I’m sorry!” I stuttered, suddenly filled with panic. “I’ll repay you.” I say, holding his hands tightly. He winces and steps back. “Sorry!” I say again flustered. “Please, I’ll tell your boss personally.” He looks me over as if it’s this exact moment he’s really taking me in. Again he surprises me by smiling. “He already knows.” He whispers. My tongue becomes twisted , tied by nerves. “How-How...” I trail off. Suddenly I put the pieces together, visibly paling. “You are...”
“The owner, Jason Todd.” He answers. The room begins spinning. I look down to the floor, hanging my head in embarrassment. My nails dig into the skin of my arms. Suddenly I feel him take my hands gently away , holding them against my side. “Hey, it’s nothing to worry about.” He reassured me. “Besides you can always pay me back.” I sigh trying to settle myself. “Okay, if you tell me how much it cost, I’ll write you a check.” I take my phone out, opening my notes to take down the price. “It’s about 3500.” He says. My heart sinks to my stomach and I pale again. He sighs irritated. “How about we talk about this after the party. Here.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black card and key. “This key will operate the elevator, this card will let you into my main waiting room . Leave them on the my desk and wait for me. “ I take them from him, his hands freezing me from the touch. Before I can say another word he disappears into the crowd. The party passes in a blur. I found myself at the bar the rest of the night, I wasn't drunk yet but I could easily give the impression that I was. The bar-tender was conversational between drinks, eyes dropping obviously to my low-cut neckline. Slowly through the evening guests began to disburse. I walked inching myself closer to the elevator. When only a few remained, I used my key to leave upstairs. The elevator opened directly into his private office, stunned I walked forward hesitantly. My heels dragged against the floor. I placed the key and card on his wooden brown desk. I moved to the balcony overlooking the city. The office was painted the same blue like the rest of the building , decorated with red furniture and a large fish tank. I watched the fish swim for a moment, tapping the glass trying to get their attention. The door suddenly swung open scaring me, I jumped up freezing. Jason walked forward slowly stopping in front his desk, his hand gliding across the surface. He smirks, “Did you have a good time?” I smile, maybe too widely. I walk stumbling over my feet feeling weightless. I trip over the leg of the desk falling forward but before I hit the ground he catches me with ease. Lifting me up again. “You're drunk.” He says, holding me steady. “ No! Not drunk, maybe a little tipsy.” I giggle uncontrollably, hands sliding down his back. When he tenses I move them back up holding his shoulders. “You shouldn’t be drinking without company.” He says. “Take a seat on the couch. I'll join you when I pour myself a drink.” I manage to walk across the room wobbling slightly with each step. I collapsed into the couch dizzy. My eyes look around the room noticing small details. The small cracks in the ceiling, the softness of the couch and small loose threads. Jason sits next to me offering a drink. I shake my head no, he laughs and downs both. “Why did you come to the lounge tonight?” He asks.
“I was supposed to write about my experience here.” “And? ” He gestured to me to continue. “It’s enjoyable. Maybe way too enjoyable.” I laugh. “I can’t believe all this is yours, your return has been one of Gotham’s many surprises.” He nods in agreement. “You get used to these things living here.” He says, lightly tapping his fingers against the glass. I shrug, as I brushed my hair from my face. “I didn’t grow up here.” His expression showed confusion and interest. “I grew up with my mother in the country.” I say. He tilts his head in curiosity waiting for me to continue . I sigh rubbing the back of my neck uncomfortably . “My mother died when I was eighteen and left me her land out south. I was thankful but I could barely manage and ended up taking slow jobs to keep our home. Time goes on and my father returns for me from his separate family, he claims I couldn't keep the place on my pay and that I should give it to him. I do and he sells the land, and sends his kids off to school and I was left with nothing.” Jason huffed in disbelief and I hummed. “I know. Anyway, I lived with my father for some years until I found a place of my own. I managed to weasel myself a suitable job at the local news, working as an assistant under Vicki Vale. Tonight was supposed to be the biggest moment of my career , but now I can’t even recall how I got here.” I grunted softly, biting the inside of my cheek. He stares at me taking in my words silently. “I lost my mother too when I was pretty young.” He admits. I look at him, our eyes meet but I can tell he’s looking beyond me somewhere lost in memories. “I understand more than you can imagine. “ he smiles sadly, clearly forced. “I guess were two of a kind.” I say. We stare for a moment at each other.
“You know,” He begins sliding close to me. “I didn’t come up because I saw you destroying one of my prized paintings.” I smirk. “Then what was the reason?” I shift closer to him. “Out of everyone at the lounge you seemed different .” My eyes widened from his confession. “I’ve been wondering all night why that was.” Suddenly I began to notice him leaning in slowly, waiting for me to close to space between us. So I do. His lips brush mine softly. Not innocently, but passionate and demanding. I want to pull away before I lose myself but I can’t. I smiled, my heart fluttered as I clasped my hands on the buttons of his suit hesitant. He kisses my neck and my resistance crumbles. A hand runs through my hair, as the kisses become harder and more urgent. Another hand slides around my waist, and pulls my dress zipper down slowly. As I kiss his neck in return a wave of pleasure runs through my body. I kissed his lips softly again. “Maybe I can give you a private interview.” He mumbles into my ear. My body becomes warm again all over. “But, I have other plans tonight sadly. I’m sure we will be meeting again.” He winks, pulling back. Standing up he offers me his hand. I take it as he leads me to the elevator. One last time he kisses my neck whispering goodbye. “Come to think of it I haven’t even asked for your name.” He smiles. I grow fluster again from his gaze. “It’s y/n.” I say as the door closes.
Outside Eve, my roommate and closest friend, waits in the car, waving me over as I exit. Once in she bombarded me with questions, I told her about everything except for my moment upstairs with Jason. I can help but feel that my stomach has turned itself inside out, I’m jittery with butterflies . “Do you wanna grab something to eat before we go home.” Eve asks. “Actually yeah. I don’t think they severed any food there.” I realized for the first time that night how hungry I actually was. She scoffs, “Savages.” I laugh warmly at her curling my hair behind my ear. “Yeah a sandwich will be cool.” I lean up beaming at her. “I think that could work.” She nods happily as she reaches over to turn on the radio and begins flipping throughout the channels rapidly.
LISTEN TO THE RADIO. ( kinda loud)
Fear engulfs me , and I think my heart will explode any moment. My body shudders, and I almost vomit, I can taste saliva trickling down my throat. My hands begin to shake but suddenly Eve gently places her over mine. I look into her eyes, I can see she’s trying hard not to cry in front of me. “Hey...” she says soothingly. “I’m sure everything is okay and will work out. Let’s go back home, we’ll be safe there.” I can’t speak so I shakily nod in response. She doesn’t release my hand though as she begins to turn around. We cruise down the empty road quickly. She squeezes my hand constantly reassuring me. “We’ll be ok. Say it with me, we’ll be okay.” I repeat it to her softly.
We’ll be okay. We’ll be ok. We’ll be ok.
The car begins to slow and I start to panic all over again. “Hey-hey, what’s happening?” My breathing becomes uncontrollable and my chest squeezes. “Hey. We’re just out of gas we’re okay, I promise. We just need gas.” She holds my hands rubbing my knuckles . “You’re cold. Take my coat, I’ll step out and bring us gas.” I shake my head. “No, you need it” Her fingers gently press against my cheek. “I’ll live.” She says. Without any more input she takes her coat off and drapes it over me, then holds my hands again. “I’ll be fast. Faster than you can blink.” She promises. She gets out of the car and begins walking down the street. I sit silently, scanning around for movement as she disappears around the corner. I don’t remember when but I begin to drift asleep. The blazing of a car horn unsettles me and jerks me awake. My eyes snap open, darting around. I suddenly see Eve pleading with two men holding a gas can close, more cars than before are speeding down the road. The streets are flooded with citizens rioting and rampaging into apartments.
I hear one of the men shout, “Just give it to us, and we won’t cause any trouble!” Eve refuses and backs away. I hop out the car as one of them pulls out a small blade. “No, y/n!” she warns me. I stop as they both face , fear once again enclosing me in . “Just run y/n! Go!” Tears fall as my legs tremble. “Not without you!” I yell back. She only sighs softly. “Run please.” I stand there gazing into her eyes, my whole body stinging in agony. Suddenly two beams glow in our direction. “Car!” Eve shouts gasping.
At the last second, I jumped out the way . My body hit the hood of the car and I screamed as I flipped into the air . Somehow time slows and I see Eve frozen as the car swivels crashing into her, her bones break with an audible snap. My lungs contracted at the force of collision . My head smashed against the pavement while my arms and legs were flailing in the air. The world falls to darkness.
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Random News on my Writing #2
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And no-one to remember me
I just wanted to mention that, although I've known for a long time, I finally understand how much Halcyon and Abhor adore eachother.
*It's ineffable* (I do hope that somebody gets this reference).
So, I was writing a random scene (because I literally don't have a plot) and it was supposed to be a face-off between my protagonist (Halcyon) and my antagonist (Whim) and it turned into a reunion between Halcyon and Abhor after an argument I know nothing about (is this what happens when your characters take over your plot?). Now it's among the most heartstring-tugging scenes I've ever written (Halcyon gets very pessimistic, Abhor apologizes and reveals that he was a wee bit... tortured, and then there's a lot of cuddling)
Excerpts (aka one longish excerpt):
~Splattering. That was Abhor's favourite word. Yes, he had it as his name because his family was... his, and he didn't love them and they didn't love him, but at that time, only names mattered, not where they came from or what they meant.
And we mattered too. And we acknowledged it in such small, simple ways.
I waited by the abandoned farm outside the town (and before that it had been a village, and before that it had been forests and and grassy plains roamed by wolves, and soon enough it would become a city and we would be the wolves of the future, and oh, how terribly things changed!).
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Autumn's story
I haven't written much of AS these days but I came to realise that Autumn won't grow up to be one of the ✨good kids✨.
I'm pretty sure that some time after the story ends, he would find ✨bad influences✨ and uhh, smoke (with the possibility of... Well, you know... drugs), drink, and snog girls and/or boys by the time he turns 16.
I am sorry.
And slightly embarrassed (aka blushing like a drunk, hot-pepper-eating weirdo).
And very, very glad and lucky that the story happens while he's young and innocent.
Have a (very long) excerpt:
For context: Autumn is discorporated in this scene and isn't aware of anything, not even himself. He is trying to find the place he has lived in that still feels like home. The one he chooses, is, of course, Dallian's house.
~Was it the great manor that looked like a castle and stood on the edge of a small village and trembled with broken glory and lost happiness and forgotten love?
Maybe a long time ago. But not anymore.
The person that was called Autumn (but he was much more than Autumn) continued searching.
The small house in the small town in which lived people who could have taken care of Autumn (but he left them and of course he was sorry...) wasn't home. It could have been.
The untended streets in a city on which fell snow and forgotten flowers and sunlight and withered leaves and mud and clumsy people and smoked cigars and newspapers on which were written tragedies and gossip and fog and feelings and silences (Autumn could calculate the speed with which they fell, and the height they fell from, and in how much time they hit the ground, but that didn't matter): they tried, but they themselves knew they could never be home.
And yet there was a place that offered tea and comfy rooms and physics problems and truths and sleeping on the couch and books and... rebellions against the world.
Why does this scene always make me tear up?
Anyway, that's it for now! 。◕‿◕。
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My new idea
Yes, my idea is finally getting shaped in my mind! I really think I know what to do with it, and wow, I love it! I'll make an introduction for it!
That's it for now! Happy writing!
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