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chenziee · 3 years

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Romance Dawn for the East Blue

Inspired by @feriowind‘s blessed tweet about Yamato winding up on Dawn Island :)

Enjoy 4k words of the 4 brothers driving everyone crazy :D

[Read on AO3 or below the cut]

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Slowly blinking awake, Yamato struggled to remember why he was lying on the beach of some strange island, the smell of sea salt and trash mixing in the air into something almost worse than the confines of his prison of Onigashima. Almost. It was still freedom after all, and Yamato would gladly take this disgusting smell over his father threatening to place bombs on his wrists.

Looking around groggily, his eyes finally fell on the sad, wooden remains of a small boat, a boat that Yamato had been using to sail this unfamiliar sea during the past weeks. And he finally remembered the terrible events that had led him to this island.

Yes, it was a dark, stormy night, the likes of which Yamato had never seen even in the unpredictable New World, and definitely not since his escape in the peaceful and calm East Blue. He had fought to keep his boat from capsizing, fighting against the strong winds and ocean currents all by himself for hours… but then suddenly, a Neptunian so large it could only have come from the Calm Belt appeared. Yamato had managed to fight it off but unfortunately, his boat suffered too much damage from the power of his Thunder Bagua. He was then forced to swim to the nearest shore with the last bits of strength he had left—

"I saw the Lord of the Coast attack the fishing boat this person was sleeping in. It was really funny, when they woke up, they screamed so loud I think even the people in Fuusha heard. And then they fell in the water while trying to stand up. But the idiot apparently can't swim so I had to go fish them out."

Yamato froze in place at the boyish voice who was retelling his heroic battle so rudely. Wasn't he allowed to at least pretend?

Another boy, this one sounding even younger, started snickering then. "I like this person, Sabo! They’re so funny!"

"Luffy, you're the last one who should be laughing here," a third voice sighed. "Anchor boy." Yamato could almost hear the cheeky smirk on his face as he teased this 'Luffy'.

“Don’t call me that!” the youngest one cried, sounding like he was about to fight the other boy.

“Ace, don’t provoke him,” the first boy chided. “You’ll wake the idiot with your fighting.”

That was it.

“Will you stop calling me an idiot?!” Yamato shouted as he sprung up to a sitting position, an embarrassed blush on his face.

They all paused at the sudden movement, blinking up at him in shock. Yamato glowered at them one by one, taking note of how tiny these kids were—the blond and the freckled one looked no older than 12, while the other could be maybe 8. The blond was the only one dripping in water, just as much as Yamato himself was, and Yamato could only assume this was Sabo, the one who had pulled him out of the water. That would make Freckles ‘Ace’, and the youngest one ‘Luffy’.

Yamato had to wonder, though, how Sabo was able to save him all by himself. Yamato was 16 years old, a lot older than however old these boys were, and he was Kaido’s son—meaning he was already much taller than some adults. Although, he supposed he had seen stranger things and people a lot stronger than a human their size should have been. An image of Oden during his execution came to mind immediately but Yamato quickly chased the memory away.

“Oh look, the idiot’s awake,” Ace said lazily, looking thoroughly unimpressed by Yamato’s glare and simply returning it with one of his own.

Luffy, on the other hand, grinned brightly, hopping over to Yamato to stare up at him with stars in his eyes. “Are those horns? Real ones?”

Blinking, Yamato’s hand automatically reached up to touch one of his horns. “Yeah?” he replied slowly, unsure of what he was supposed to say. Was it that weird to people not from the Grand Line to see someone with features like this?

“That’s so cool! Join my pirate crew!” His grin only widened with his request—or demand.

Yamato tilted his head to the side. “You have a pirate crew?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“Well, not yet,” Luffy said, a small pout appearing on his lips. “But eventually, I will be the Pirate King so of course I will have one!” he announced looking so proud and sure of himself and Yamato felt his lips twitch upward.

“Sure, King, I’ll tag along with you,” he laughed, seeing no harm in indulging the adorable kid. And who knew? Maybe he really would end up sailing with him. After all, in 12 years, the Nine Red Scabbards would come back to Wano and Yamato needed to be back there by then. He needed to help open the country.

And who was to say he couldn’t bring the Pirate King with him?

Sabo clicked his tongue then, walking up to Luffy and ruffling his hair. “Stop that, you don’t even know this person’s name.”

“Oh right,” Yamato said, hitting t he palm of his hand with his fist in sudden realization. “Sorry. I’m Kozuki Oden. You can also call me Yamato. Son of Kaido. Thanks for helping me.”

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“Ace! Luffy! What’s the meaning of this?!”

Yamato groaned; always a wonderful way to wake up. “Are you drunk again, you bull-gorilla? Go away it’s too early for this,” he shouted back, not even bothering to open his eyes.

There was a moment of silence until someone stomped over to stand right above Yamato’s head. “What did you just call me, you brat?”

Finally, Yamato blinked up at the person with long ginger hair, a cigarette between their lips, and looking decidedly female. He closed his eyes again, mumbling, “Oh you’re not my father. Whatever then.” As soon as he was done, he pulled his blanket over his head to try and get some more peace and quiet.

It might not have been his father but it still was too early for this.

“Dadan, shut up,” some one whined from somewhere around halfway down Yamato’s body.

“Yeah, what’s the problem?” another person joined in, their voice coming from Yamato’s other side.

Oh right. Ace, Sabo, and Luffy had brought him back to their place last night; this had to be the nasty old hag they mentioned. Definitely seemed like one.

“First Garp drops you two on me, then you bring in more and more kids with you? What do you expect me to do, this isn’t a daycare!” It sounded like the woman was on the verge of a mental breakdown.

Finally, Sabo spoke up, sounding about as sleepy as Yamato felt, “Dadan, this is our brother, Yamao. Yamao, Dadan.” With that, he flopped back down, his head coming to rest against Yamato’s thigh.

“I’m not a pillow, you three!” Yamato snapped upon the realization of how the boys were laying with their limbs thrown all over the place, Yamato’s own body included. “And it’s Ya-ma-to,” he added with a sigh, already giving giving up on convincing them to not use Luffy’s nickname.

“Where the hell did you manage to pick up another brother,” Dadan complained and Yamato was starting to feel a little sorry for her. He had to admit that dealing with these three was like fighting a hurricane and it hasn’t even been 24 hours since he met them. At least now he was there, a responsible teenager to keep them in check. She should really be grateful he happened to… choose this island to land on.

“Alright, kid. I don’t care who you are you where you came from—” the woman paused, folding her arms over her chest as she stared down and Yamato— “but I will not feed you. One bowl of rice per day is all I can guarantee you.”

Yamato laughed, “That’s not necessary. Oden could do it, I would be a disgrace if I couldn’t take care of myself and my brothers, too.”

Dadan stared at him for a moment, blinking once, twice, before she threw he hands up in frustration. As she walked away, Yamato could hear her mumbling to herself about stupid brats who couldn’t be phased by anything and how she was going to ‘let Garp have it’ the next time he ‘bothered to show his sorry ass’ there.

Yamato simply shrugged and went back to sleep.

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Life on Dawn Island turned out to be surprisingly easy and, even more surprisingly, fun. It didn’t take Yamato long to get to know the forest, the mountain, and the Grey Terminal beyond it, running around the place with his little brothers like he was born there with them.

“Yamao, where are you going, that’s the opposite direction!” Sabo called after him in exasperation, pointing the right way.

A few days after his arrival, he went to retrieve his kanabo from the waters just off the shore. Ace had looked at him, asking why he was so desperate if it was the same weapon the father he so hated used and Yamato couldn’t admit he had a point but… he simply didn’t feel right without it. It was his weapon as well now, and the bull-gorilla wouldn’t take that away from him.

It took him three hours of diving but the happiness and rightness of his kanabo next to him was well worth the effort.

“What are you two anchors doing?” Ace shouted from where he was in the water and towards the two at the beach, looking incredibly annoyed.

Yamato and Luffy exchanged a glance before turning back to Ace and replying in unison, “Building a pirate ship from sand.”

Just then, Sabo’s head popped out of the water next to Ace. “I need a break,” he gasped, struggling to catch his breath after being underwater for so long.

“This club of yours better be made from gold, Yamao, or so help me,” Ace grumbled before leaving Sabo to rest and diving in instead.

Once he had his kanabo in hand, it became incredibly easy to hunt even the most ferocious beasts around, allowing Yamato enough room to stay back and direct the young brothers, giving them pointers and helping them with their hunting techniques. Usually, he simply watched, letting the boys do most of the hunt, even if it meant the prey got away sometimes. After all, making mistakes and losing was a good way to get stronger. So he let them do their own thing while making sure they were okay, and only jumping in when necessary.

“Okay, here’s the plan. We go around the river, then we split up. Me and Luffy will go up while you and Ace follow the riverbed. It’s risky, but on my signal, you will catch its attention and keep it distracted. Then me and Luffy jump down at its head. Hopefully that will at least knock it out so you and Ace can then come help us finish it. And Yamao—” Sabo paused, giving Yamato a hard, subtly threatening look— “if you run ahead screaming and scare it off again, we’re having you for dinner.”

Yamato could only gulp and nod obediently.

He even managed to impress the local Madonna, the cute pub owner Makino. The first time she had come to visit after Yamato had arrived, she immediately dropped all the food, alcohol, and children’s clothes that she had brought, and ran straight to him. She gave him all of her attention the rest of her stay. And even though Yamato wasn’t interested, he had to admit that being fawned over, and especially the jealous stares all the bandits were giving him, felt great.

“Oh my,” Makino muttered when she noticed Yamato. “Luffy did say Yamao was a little taller than him but…” she trailed off, her expression turning troubled.

“You don’t have any clothes big enough for him, do you?” Dogra asked, munching on one of the cones Makino had brought.

The young woman shook her head, sighing, “I think I’ll have to make them all from scratch. Yamao, can you come here? I need to take some measurements.”

"Yamao, you're blushing more than Ace did!" Luffy pointed out immediately, clutching his stomach as he doubled over in laughter.

Yamato made sure his hand was coated in haki when he hit the boy over the head.

Over all, he had to say he much prefered the life of a cool big brother over being a pirate crew’s' ‘young master’. It was a lot more fun, a lot easier to breathe. He never felt more free than he did while laughing and running around the mountain, plotting pranks on their brothers with Ace, or getting grounded— getting thanked by Sabo for running off and beating up the pathetic excuses for pirates who had hurt Luffy and threatened the boys' treasure stash.

Even Dadan's frustrated screaming felt more loving than anything the bull-gorilla of a biological parent had ever shown him. And no, it definitely wasn’t much more embarrassing.

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"I don't want to be a marine!" Luffy screamed one morning just as the others were getting ready to head out to work their brand new tree house base.

Both Sabo and Ace froze, turning to stare at each other for a moment with wide eyes.

"Run?" Ace asked in a whisper.

"Run," Sabo nodded seriously before they both turned to look at Yamato.

The teen simply sat there, turning his confused gaze between Ace, Sabo, and the direction from which Luffy's voice came a few seconds earlier. "What's going on?"

Ace and Sabo exchanged a glance once more, seemingly coming to a mutual understanding before Ace answered, "Go see for yourself. Luffy could probably use the help."

Immediately, Yamato was on his feet, heading outside to save his adorable baby brother from whatever monster he was facing. He was slightly suspicious of the high five Ace and Sabo had exchanged, not as sneakily as they probably thought, but as long as Luffy was in trouble, it didn't matter much to him.

As soon as he made it outside the little house, his eyes fell on the two figures fighting just a little bit away from the house. Obviously, one of them was Luffy, who was visibly fuming; growling and snapping his teeth like he was getting ready to literally bite the legs off of his target.

The target in question was a tall, although obviously much shorter than Yamato, and muscular old man clad in a bright red and white aloha shirt, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared Luffy down. He looked thoroughly unimpressed by Luffy’s pistol punches—which admittedly still left much to be desired despite Yamato’s efforts to help him out; it was only a question of time before he managed to find the right bang feeling. The man he was fighting looked vaguely familiar but Yamato couldn’t place that face no matter how much he wrecked his brain.

But it didn’t matter.

“Luffy, are you okay?!” Yamato called in alarm, rushing forward while preparing to swing his kanabo at the stranger.

The both of them turned to look at him then, identical angry expressions on their faces and suddenly, Yamato realized who the man reminded him of. It was more than obvious where Luffy got his personality and expressions. Maybe he should… not attack this person on sight?

Making the decision for him, Luffy huffed upon seeing him approach, raising his hand and making Yamato stop. “Stay back, I’m fine! I can kick gramps’ ass myself!”

“Who’s ass are you gonna kick?” the man snapped, his light punch making Luffy clutch at his head. “You can’t win against the fist of love, Luffy!”

Yamato blinked. That was obviously haki but… fist of love?

Ignoring Luffy’s complaints, the man gave Yamato an obvious once over. “And who are you? Wait—” he paused, looking like he just remembered something— “you’re Yamao, aren’t you?”

“My name is Ya-ma-to, and I’m Luffy’s big brother,” Yamato replied, not entirely sure why he even bothered to correct anyone on his name at this point. No one ever listened.

“Part of the family already, hm? You have an impressive swing; you’ll make a fine marine.” The grandfather nodded, grinning at Yamato in approval.

Yamato did a double take. “I’m not going to be a marine!” he responded immediately, the horror he felt at the though clear in his voice.

“Exactly! We’re gonna be pirates!” Luffy joined in, fully recovered and launching a new rubbery pistol punch, which went completely ignored.

Gramps puffed up, raising his fist threateningly in front of himself. “Nonsense! All four of you will be the strongest marines the navy’s ever had if I have any say in it!”

“No way!” Luffy and Yamato cried in unison, the both of them jumping at the man in a joint attack.

A second later the both of them were rolling on the ground together, clutching at their heads and trying to recover from yet another fist of love. Seriously, Yamato only just met this guy, why was he getting a fist of love? Or better yet, why did it sound like he was already considered a grandson? He didn’t even know his new grandfather’s name.

He guessed it was simply one more proof of his relation to Luffy. It was exactly the same to when Luffy had decided by himself that Yamato was the big brother now, not even half an hour after meeting him, and just like back then, Yamato was powerless in defying that decision.

Not like he wanted to. He would be lying if he said being considered family so easily, so warmly, so unconditionally didn’t make him happy. But still…

“I’m already a pirate,” he growled. Not to mention marines did nothing but fight Oden and the Pirate King’s crew. Like hell was he becoming one of them.

Gramps took a deep breath, looking like he was about to explode, but Yamato interrupted him. “The navy wouldn’t want someone with my blood anyway. They’d execute me on the spot,” he said flatly, looking the man straight in the eyes, trying to convey how disgusted by the institution, the world government, the current world he was. Like hell was he participating in that. He’d much rather wait patiently for the one who was going to change it all and support them.

Neither of them said anything for a moment, neither of them faltering as they stared each other down silently. Until finally, gramps grinned, a smile so similar to Luffy’s that Yamato startled.

“If blood’s the problem, all the more reason you should join,” he announced, the smile never leaving his face even as his eyes turned almost sad.

Yamato tilted his head to the side as he watched the man slowly look at Luffy before his eyes slid in the direction of the bandits’ house. When Yamato turned to look, he could see Ace turning around and walking away, Sabo quickly following with a worried expression on his face.

Well.

At least Yamato wasn’t the only one who obviously hated his biological family around here.

Deciding to leave Ace in Sabo’s hands, Yamato turned back to the problem at hand but before he could snap at the man, Luffy did so for him, “No. He’s joining my crew!”

“Over my dead body!” gramps roared in response, looking like he was going to go off on a rant.

Yamato, however, wasn’t about to sit around and listen to that. “No, over my dead body. Do you even hear how fucked up it is that you need to join the navy to be safe from getting hunted? Neither of us going there,” he growled, baring his teeth for good measure.

The old man paused, blinking at Yamato once, then twice, before he burst out in laughter, one so loud, so honest, and so contagious that, despite having no idea what was so funny, it made even Yamato want to laugh. All his anger was forgotten as his lips stretched in a grin, shaking his head at the sudden realization of how weird this entire situation was. He barely knew what was even happening but… it wasn’t like Yamato ever really paused to think about things. If it felt right, he’d go with it. If it didn’t, fuck it.

And this, incredibly, felt right.

It was only a long while later that gramps finally caught his breath enough to speak, “I like you, kid. Are you sure you’re Kaido’s son?”

As if hit by the bull-gorilla’s Thunder Bagua, Yamato stopped laughing, only staring with an open mouth as dread ran through him. “How?” he could only say after a dreadfully long moment of heavy silence. Or maybe it was only a second. But it was too much, and made Yamato feel too on edge. Ready to fight. He didn’t want to even hear the bull-gorilla’s name; definitely didn’t want to hear it in relation to himself.

Gramps looked at him as if asking if he was kidding then, but with his only answer being a glare, he started laughing anew. “Kid, if you don’t want people to know, or the asshole finding you, maybe stop introducing yourself with ‘son of Kaido’ to anyone you meet. You have poor Makino quite worried.”

Oh.

Whoops?

“Yamao, you’re stupid,” Luffy laughed.

The teen huffed, shoving hard at Luffy’s shoulder. “You’re stupid,” he hissed back, making Luffy stick his tongue out at him.

Yamato saw it only fair he do the same in return.

Just then, a dark shadow loomed over the both of them and they slowly looked up, only to see gramps looking down at them with an evil grin on his face, slowly cracking his knuckles. “Whatever you say, I will train you stupid brats into proper marines, yet.”

Yamato finally understood why Ace and Sabo’s immediate reaction was to run, then send Yamato as what he could now only assume being a sacrifice. There was no way even Yamato was going to be a fair match for this man. “Oh fuck,” Yamato cursed, scrambling to his feet to follow Luffy, who who was already hafway down the clearing away after taking the first popped knuckle as his signal to bolt.

“Watch your fucking language in front of your baby brothers!” gramps shouted after him just before something that might have been a pine cone flew past him at an impossible speed.

Yamato and Luffy exchanged a glance, identical grins spreading in their lips before they both took a deep breath. “ACE! SABO! HELP!!”

If they were to die today, they’d make sure to take the other two down with them.

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Hours later, Yamato lay awake in his bed on the floor of the mountain bandits’ cabin long after his brothers started snoring softly. He was exhausted from the day spent laughing and running away from gramps—or Garp, as he had finally learned earlier that evening once Dadan finally stopped hiding from the man—but as opposed to the others, he didn’t want to sleep.

Not when gramps and Dadan were busy talking on the other side of this thin wall. What had started as the two of them sharing their frustrations and complaints about their kids quickly turned into fondness as they instead told each other stories about the brothers and their antics. Yamoto wasn’t surprised the bandit knew exactly where their secret base was, just as he wasn’t surprised by Garp only pulling out the most embarrassing stories he probably could.

It was a good thing the other three had managed to pass out the second their heads hit their pillows or they’d be trying to fight the old man all over again over it.

Yamato, on the other hand, refused to miss out on a second of this. The adults might not have allowed him to drink with them, claiming Yamato was too young for that—to which he not-so-politely disagreed, but then Garp’s fist disagreed with him—but they couldn’t stop him from listening. Those were his brothers they were talking about and he wanted to hear all about the past ten years of their lives that he had missed.

And if he maybe got a little bit happy every time they brought Yamato up, well… no one had to know that.

“Yamao, I swear if you don’t stop laughing at their shitty stories, I will strangle you with your own hair.”

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alisonsfics · 3 years

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reconnected

pairing: shawn mendes x reader

request: “hello. i was wondering if you could write where y/n and shawn met at school or on vine or idk at a coffee shop. both of us were young new artists and bonded over that. as both of us start getting popular we lose contact. a few years later we decide to collab on a song and that rescinds a spark of friendship and maybe something. but of course, I wanted to at a bit of drama. while you try to catch up on, you know life, the paparazzi are sure you two are together, shawn's ex is stringing up trouble and all your friends and family keep on bothering you two about each other” - @iwishiwasyuri

word count: 2.7k

It had been a peaceful day. You had woken up early and started a day of productivity. You were currently drinking a cup of tea and replying to a few business emails.

It was peaceful. Birds were singing outside. It was early, and it felt like the world was not awake yet. This moment of serenity almost felt like the calm before the storm.

Then, your phone buzzed and shook your desk in the process. You were taken out of your thoughts.

You glanced down at the lit screen. You noticed a text message had popped up on your screen.

Woah.

You hadn’t seen that name in years.

Shawn.

Shawn Mendes.

You and Shawn had known each other for years. You both bonded over being singers and the rest was history.

You two had a beautiful story, much like a fairytale. The way you both met felt like a page out of a novel.

You had been at your local coffee shop, way before you had become successful in the music industry world.

It was back when you uploaded videos of yourself singing covers on YouTube. It was simple and seemed mediocre now, but at the time you loved it. You were singing all the time and it was your dream, even though you made virtually no money. You still loved it.

You jumped up into the seat at the high table. You pulled out your laptop to edit your most recent video. You sipped on your warm latte. It made you feel warm and cozy, as opposed to the freezing weather outside.

You plopped your headphones over your ears and started to edit the video. Within seconds, you heard a voice talking over your shoulder.

“So you’re a singer?” The voice asked. You jumped, almost managing to fall out of the chair. You felt a pair of strong arms catch you and keep you from falling.

Finally, you got a chance to look at the source of the voice. You had been prepared for it to be some creepy guy, but you were wrong.

So wrong.

The guy was cute and had the most perfect smile. You were speechless. You froze, and your brain shut off.

“Hi, uh sorry about that. I’m Shawn. It’s just, your headphones are unplugged. I was going to tell you and I realized it was you singing. I’m sorry I scared you” he said, kindly. You had to pinch yourself to realize this was all real. “I...uh hi. I’m Y/N. I was just zoned out, it’s not your fault. But hi, I’m Y/N” you rambled.

His smile made your stomach do flips. You felt like you were on a rollercoaster.

“Yeah, you said that already” Shawn said, chuckling. It was endearing. He wasn’t laughing at you, he was just amused by the cute girl who was stuttering over her words.

You didn’t know it then, but he thought you were adorable.

You thought the exact same thing about him.

The story went on. You two became great friends. You never got the courage to mention your little crush on him, but time went on.

As you both got busier, you started to drift apart. Eventually you just stopped talking. Any time you heard his songs on the radio or saw an article about him, it just pulled on your heart strings.

But now he was texting you.

Hey, Y/N. I know it’s been a while, well maybe longer than a while. It feels like forever. Anyway, I was wondering if you wanted to meet up and talk. I really miss you

You were stunned. You could barely comprehend what you were reading.

It felt like a crazy dream, and you were about to wake up any second now.

You picked up your phone and tried to come up with a reply. It was harder than you thought it would be. How did you put years worth of feelings into just a few sentences?

Hi! It has been forever, I miss our late night runs for ice cream. I would love to hang out and catch up. I want to hear about all that I’ve missed. I hope you’re doing well!!

You pressed send and your heart leaped out of your chest. You could hear your heart thumping in your ears.

As you sat there waiting for a reply, it felt like years. In reality, it was probably five minutes.

Then, your phone dinged.

Awesome! You want to come over to my place in like an hour?

You almost jumped out of your chair. You couldn’t believe you were finally going to see Shawn after all these years. You sent a quick reply and then headed to your closet to get dressed.

You grabbed some clothes to change into and then proceeded to change your outfit four more times. Finally, you had settled on the best option. You checked the clock and saw that it was time to go.

You grabbed your phone and your keys and then headed to Shawn’s apartment.

You found yourself outside his front door, unable to move. You wanted to pick up your hand and knock on the door, but you couldn’t. Every time that you got close, you chickened out.

It had been years since you had seen Shawn. What if he changed? What if he didn’t like you anymore? What if you embarrassed yourself?

Every time another one of thoughts popped in your head, it became harder to try to knock on that door.

You took a deep breath and tried to still your shaking hands. You felt a small moment of confidence. Before it went away, you quickly knocked on the door.

Your pulse quickened. You felt the extreme urge to just run away. Before you could do that, the door opened.

There he was.

He looked different in person. Magazines and social media had been the only place you saw him for years. Now, three feet in front of you, you were almost shocked that he was three dimensional.

“Hi” was all you get out.

You were absolutely frozen.

“Hey” he said, slowly. He seemed to also be at a loss for words.

You looked him up and down, taking in all of his features. His hair was longer now. His shoulders were broader and he was so much more muscular now.

You were almost drooling over his arms in the tight shirt. Your lingering gaze left his body and you met his eyes.

Small smiles appeared on both of your faces. He grabbed your hands and pulled you into a hug. His tight embrace was comforting. His strong arms around you made your heart swoon.

After a while, you both pulled away. Once again, you couldn’t get rid of the grin on your face. “So how have you been?” He asked, looking into your eyes.

You started to tell him about major changes in your life that he had missed. While you were talking, his hand naturally slipped into yours. He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze as you spoke.

Your heart was racing at the speed of sound. It felt like a dream. There was no way you could really be standing in front of Shawn after all these years.

“It’s so good to finally see you again. I’ve actually been wanting to ask you something” Shawn said, after you finished talking. You were immediately intrigued, but also worried.

“And what is that?” You asked, rocking back and forth on your feet. “I was wondering if you would want to collab on a song sometime. I really love your music, and it would awesome to work with you” he told you, honestly.

You were taken aback. “I would love to. Is that why you invited me? To use me for monetary gain?” You teased him, giggling. He chuckled and shook his head. “No, that’s not why I wanted to see you again” he said, with a certain sparkle in his eyes.

You started gazing into his eyes, and it became harder and harder to stop. You didn’t notice, but you both started to step closer together. What you did notice was Shawn carefully placing his hand on your waist. He did it so lightly that you almost thought you imagined the lingering touch.

Before you both started to lean in, there was a loud commotion outside the front door. You both quickly jumped away like teenagers caught doing something mischievous.

Shawn sighed and headed towards the door to check who it was. He looked through the peephole and then quickly backed up. You were confused by his urgency.

“Who is it?” You asked, curiously. He didn’t answer you right away. He walked over to a wall and quickly closed the curtains. “The paparazzi are here” he said, walking back over to you.

“Well then I guess you’re stuck with me until they leave” you said, smiling as you walked over to the couch. You plopped down on the couch, and Shawn joined you seconds later.

“So do you want to watch a movie because you’re going to be stuck here?” He asked you, grabbing the remote.

You nodded and leaned your head on his shoulder. He didn’t expect you to do it, but he leaned into your touch. He pressed play on a movie and then put his arm along the back of the couch.

Slowly, as the movie continued, his arm moved from the couch to your shoulders. The way he transitioned was so natural, like he was used to having his arm around you. It felt good, and was definitely something you could get used to.

The movie became dull, and you glanced up at Shawn. You found yourself admiring his features as he watched the screen.

Then he caught you.

He looked down into your eyes. You felt your cheeks heat up as you were caught. “Hi you” he said, sweetly. You just smiled and then cuddled further into his side.

“Hey wait. I wanted to ask you about something?” Shawn said, pausing the movie.

You looked back up at him. It was hard to not smile. You always felt happy when you were around Shawn.

“So, I know that we haven’t seen each other in years, but there’s been something I’ve always wanted to tell you. Since the day we first met, I have—” Shawn started to say before he was interrupted.

Your phone loudly started ringing. It distracted you from what he was saying. You glanced down at your phone. It was your mom calling.

“I’m so sorry. It’s my mom, I have to take this” you said, apologetically setting one of your hands on Shawn's. He nodded. He was always so understanding.

You quickly answered the phone. Before you could say hello, your mom started interrogating you.

“Are you and Shawn finally together?” She asked, very quickly. You were taken aback by the question and also how fast she had asked that. “Uhh...no. Why would you think that?” You asked her, confused.

“The pictures are everywhere. It’s you walking into his house, and there’s a picture of you two hugging. All the tabloids are saying you two are together. I know that I shouldn’t trust tabloids, but I’ve always wanted you two to date. You are both so great together. Plus, he’s very handsome. So, you have good taste” your mom rambled, only stopping when she ran out of breath.

“Woah woah woah. Slow down. I promise you, Shawn and I are not dating” you assured your mom. Only then, Shawn started to listen to what you were saying. He had been trying not to listen or eavesdrop, but you were right next to him.

He just smirked at you. You saw it and rolled your eyes at him, as you tried to hold back from laughing.

Eventually, your mom said she believed you and hung up the phone. “I’m sorry about that. She started listening to the tabloids” you explained to him. He chuckled as he looked at his own phone. “That’s okay. All my friends are texting me about it too” he told you, smiling.

“Well then I guess you’re stuck with me as your fake girlfriend” you said, sticking your tongue out at him. He put his arm around you and then you leaned your head on his shoulder. “I’ve missed you” he said, softly.

You started to trace shapes on the back of his hand. “I’ve missed you too” you said, at the same volume.

You felt Shawn kiss your temple and you felt the heat rush to your face.

“So what were you going to ask me before?” You asked him, giving him your full attention. Just as he was about to tell you, there was a loud knocking at the front door.

Shawn groaned and then stood up. He walked over to the door. He looked through the peephole and just sighed.

“Hang on a minute” he said to you. Then, he opened the door. You couldn’t see the door from where you were sitting. “Hey there sweetheart” you heard a girl say, and your blood ran cold.

Did Shawn have a girlfriend? You had never even brought it up. You felt so stupid. Of course he had a girlfriend. It had been years. You had been sitting here hoping he would make a move, but he was taken. He was gorgeous, any girl would be lucky to date him.

“Ashley. What do you want? We broke up. Stop acting like it didn’t happen” Shawn said, sternly. It threw you even farther off guard. You didn’t want to get your hopes up, but it seemed like Shawn was actually single.

“I just saw on Twitter that coffee shop girl was here before. If you are dating, I want you to know that you can do better. I’m still single and you know I’m hotter than her. Just come here and kiss me so all those paparazzis will know you’re mine again” you heard Ashley said.

You felt disgusted listening to her talk. She was being really rude to both you and Shawn. “Goodbye Ashley. Go ruin somebody else’s day” Shawn said, closing the door.

He walked back over to you. He looked defeated. “So that was...?” You asked. “My ex-girlfriend. I know, bad idea” he said. You didn’t know what to say.

Shawn cursed under his breath. He looked furious. You stood up and walked over to him. “Hey it’s okay. It’s no big deal. We’ll just move on. You don’t have to worry about it” you said, trying to console him. You didn’t know why he was so upset of all a sudden.

“No, it’s not okay, Y/N” he snapped at you. You jumped away from him. You visibly flinched. His eyes softened when he saw you back away. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shouted, it’s not your fault” he said, hanging his head low.

“It’s just— I’ve tried to kiss you three times today, or at least just tell you how I feel. Every time that I try, something gets in the way. I haven’t seen you in years and I just want get this off my chest. I feel like we have something special. I don’t know if you feel it too, or I’m just crazy. I really just want to kiss you, but I’m afraid something will get in the way if I try” he confessed.

You were shocked. This was the last thing you expected him to say. You had always wished that your connection was more than just friends, but you had always second guessed it. You always assumed that you were just making it up.

“Well, there’s nothing stopping you now” you said, coyly. He quickly looked up to meet your eye contact. He looked unsure, so you made the first move.

You walked towards Shawn and placed your hands on his chest. “What are you waiting for?” You asked him. That was all the clarity he needed.

He instantly connected your lips and wrapped his arms around your waist. It felt perfect. That sounds cliche and unrealistic, but the mixture of years of feelings and yearning made the perfect combination.

You both pulled away and couldn’t look away from each other’s eyes. “I guess I should call my mom back and tell her I lied” you said, giggling.

taglist: @laurakirsten0502 @miraclesoflove @nathaliabakes @millipop18 @azghedaheda @shyinadarkplace @ashwarren32 @impossibleapricotlampbat @lukes-orange-beanie

Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist for all my imagines or for a specific character/fandom!!

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#requested #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes #shawn Mendes imagines #shawn Mendes fanfiction #shawn Mendes reader insert #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes request #requests open #taglist open #fanfiction requests #shawn mendes fluff

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giorno-plays-piano · 3 years

Text

Tainted Apollo

Pairing: Kars x Reader

Warnings: mentions of gore, death of minor characters, slight allusion to dubcon.

Words: 3056.

Summary: Finding a peculiar sculpture in the ruins of an ancient temple, you realize you have stumbled upon a god set in stone.

P.S. I forgot to post this one here haha

____________

"Good morning, Sire." You welcomed him as you stretched in your improvised bed, an old metal container of some kind with a pile of blankets on top of it.

Rubbing your sleepy eyes, you slowly put your feet on the floor and adjusted the hem of your nightgown so he wouldn't see too much of your flesh. Kars always found this habit of yours ridiculous. He had been a piece of stone for God knew how long, and even after you found him he'd been confined to bed for no less than a year, barely moving and unable to speak. Kars was sure you didn't even understand what he was, but you still cared about covering your body in front of him. What a pathetic habit, he thought.

When you found him in the sands, somewhere in what appeared to be a long abandoned temple that had been in ruins even before he reached the Earth, you first thought he was some kind of sculpture, adoring his unusual but captivating form. He hated you watching him with your eyes wide, even touching a lock of his petrified hair - you were just a mortal human woman, one of those he had been determined to wipe out, but you had the audacity to act like his sole purpose was to lay in the sand for your entertainment. If he could move, he would definitely end your pathetic like there and then. But Kars couldn't.

It must have been ages, if not a millennium, since he had been banished from Earth. Drifting through darkness, his body had turned to stone, his limbs losing their ability to move - regardless of him finally becoming an ultimate form of life, it brought him nothing but eternal suffering and oblivion. Kars had stopped functioning like a living being almost completely. Almost. If he hadn't been returned back to Earth by some accident, he would continue his meaningless journey to the stars till the end of times because the darkness enveloping him had no limits. It felt like being thrown into a cold throat of some gigantic monstrous creature, but instead of reaching its stomach and finally dying he had been forced to circulate somewhere in between, neither dead nor alive. If silly humans thought the Hell was real, it had to be it.

He couldn't remember what force sent him back to Earth as he could think of no one doing it intentionally, but it didn't matter as long as he could reach Earth. Regardless of what would happen after, Kars knew he would survive and regain his power, finally giving humanity what it deserved for what they had done to him.

Funny, but when his mind had awoken from hibernation, Kars realized there was no one to take revenge on. Humanity had successfully wiped itself out.

Even after year and a half that passed, he still saw just you, a girl who had brought his petrified form to her home to take care of him knowing he was alive - by the time you met him Kars was able to open his eyes. Oh, he remembered well how horrified you were, stumbling upon an immensely beautiful statue that turned out to be a stone god, he heard you saying that for a few times. That day you ran away with such an expression Kars didn't expect you to ever come back, although you showed up a couple of days after, trying to talk to him in that odd new human language he had never heard before. As he kept silent, unable to even move his lips and make a sound, you realized the god you stared upon had been trapped in stone, and you could do nothing to free him. You went away, but came back with an odd machine that reminded him of Stroheim, and Kars thought of melting your bones when you dared to use to transport him. However, he had to admit how further did human technology evolved when even a small and timidly-looking machine like yours could lift and transport him to your home, a place inside another machine that had been definitely used for military purposes before being abandoned. It looked incredibly pathetic, as if you were a little rat that had to live in a pile of garbage out of pure need.

The world he once knew and wished to conquer had disappeared. All he saw while being driven away by your small machine had been a never-ending desert and ruins of other machines: he learnt lately those were enormous satellites, star ships, and other rusting remnants of an epoch that had been long gone. Watching gigantic sand stingrays crossing the desert as if it were a sea made him realize how far humans had gone - they had created monsters that were never meant to exist in the first place.

Of course, they paid for it. Judging from the stories you told him and what he observed himself, humanity had faced almost complete annihilation even without intervention of their outer space enemies, if there were any. The atomic war destroyed nearly everything humans had been creating since the beginning of their era. It affected even the natural course of life of every living being on Earth, forcing them to change and finally become a horrifying, mutilated, monstrous life form of something they had been once. Even the Moon had been gone, it's ugly half-destroyed form shining in the night sky and making it even more revolting. You had said something about unsuccessful colonization and the war over moon territories while Kars had to force himself to look down on the sand that was at least familiar to him.

Disgusting. He still had hard time believing how far humans had gone, destroying everything that existed long before they started ruling the planet. What would Jojo say now if he saw what a nightmare the world had become? Wasn't it better to let Kars wipe out the humanity before this had happened?

He had been fighting the urge to break your spine or melt your insides at least for a couple of months, blaming you for the crimes of your ancestors despite you obviously being too young to commit any of the atrocities that had happened. How come a human being had the audacity to survive in this post-Apocalyptic world while other life forms had mutated into monsters? When you were wiping any impurities off his cold stony skin, he was dreaming of the time when his body would come out of this odd hibernation period he couldn't control and then murder you in some rather painful way, prolonging your death till you felt all kinds of despair a human like you could. As he struggled to move even his fingers, he had finally decided not to harm an only being capable of taking care of him.

Each day you brought him to sunlight so he could observe what was outside of your pathetic shelter while you worked to grow anything in this lifeless place, several times a week departing to some place to fill the ugly rusted water tank, then watering your plants in a some kind of a nicely equipped greenhouse - funny, now you used it to protect the plants from the intense heat rather than trap it inside. Fruits and vegetables were what your diet was based on, including some synthetic supplements Kars refused to consume, disgusted by something made purely by humankind. Sometimes you would bring him fried meat, and while the thought of eating a mutilated animal had been revolting to him, Kars knew you could offer him nothing else. Even the meat you brought you offered only to him, rarely taking a piece for yourself: now it must have been a great privilege to consume meat. Besides, it truly sustained him better than fruits or vegetables, and he was dependent on what you were feeding him, slowly getting his strength back. After a year and a half he was now able to move his lips and fingertips, making you nearly ecstatic: it seemed you were doing everything right.

What did you think he was? A deity? A monster? A machine? Probably an immortal being who had existed long before the annihilation, that's what you said: you were talking to him from time to time either to pay your respects, tell him more about your world you thought he knew nothing about or voice what you were going to do right the next moment. One day as you brought several rectangular plates made with what looked like a blue metal to him, you read Kars about ancient Greek gods, wondering if he had been one of them - you saw him melting food with his skin, and for you it was the inherent symbol of his divinity. Kars had to give you some credit: you weren't as stupid he first thought you were. You weren't worshipping him as much as he deserved, but you probably did the best you could do, just a little desert rat having nothing but her plants and a decaying metal house.

"I won't come back till the sunset." You said once you finished washing your face and brushing your hair, tucking them under a faded scarf out of some light fabric and then reaching out to grab your mask. "I'll try being quick, Sire, but it's important I visit that place. If I'm lucky, I might bring something very useful to you."

Useful to him, huh? He would appreciate if you stopped humoring yourself: there was nothing useful you could bring him aside from a dozen people to devour. While he knew there were some people left on Earth still, he also knew you wouldn't master the strength to capture, less sacrifice them to him. Besides, Kars was still deciding whether it was worth devouring those creatures. While it certainly would make him return his powers faster, he could wait a couple of centuries - Kars doubted remaining humans could do something worse to Earth than what had already been done.

You didn't return after the sunset that day. It was the first time you hadn't keep your promise to him, and it made ill-tempered Kars bitter: oh, he would remember it and make sure you remembered it, too. He spent the night thinking what he was going to do to you, albeit not getting too violent in his thoughts. Something probably happened on your way, and you had to stop and spend the night in the desert before coming back.

The next day you didn't return either. He waited for you till the sunset but heard nothing but the sound of sand stingrays travelling to the other part of the desert. The complete silence troubled Kars more than he was able to admit: you had been somewhere around most of the time, taking to him or making some other irritating noise. While he found you just one more annoying creature inferior to him, your absence had a strange effect on Kars - it felt like something was crawling beneath his stony skin, making it harder to keep calm despite the fact the man had always been patient, unaffected by something so unworthy of his attention. However, your absence was a clear sign that something had happened, and it somehow bothered him.

Were you attacked by the monstrous creatures roaming the earth? Humans? Some other force he knew nothing about? Surely, it had something to do with the thing you attempted to bring, but you were vague about its nature, and Kars doubted it was really something decent. How come you had the audacity to risk your life when you were his one and only follower, sustaining and taking care of him while he was still in hibernation? Were you so unbearably stupid you decided you could leave him alone for long? Who had given you the right to bother Kars with your absence? It was inexcusable. The only reason why he didn't punish you was his petrified body, but he wouldn't stay in such state forever.

The lack of your presence was becoming more and more disturbing, and Kars questioned himself why did it matter. He had never needed someone's company - even though he had respect for both Esidisi and Wamuu, their closeness to him wasn't something essential. Not that your presence was either... and yet he found himself constantly thinking about the reasons why you were late. Although it irritated him, Kars decided that time he spent into space had its effects on his mind.

When you returned at last, the sun had already disappeared over the horizon. You were bleeding - he saw crimson stains on your face and your left arm, your faded scarf absent when you stormed inside your house, a small metal container in your hand as you flew to your stone god. Something had gone terribly wrong.

"I'm sorry, Apollo." You were running out of breath, but Kars heard you calling him by a Greek god's name. Was it the god of light? Your choice was rather peculiar. You were probably calling him like this in your mind since you brought those books home, but was afraid to voice your thoughts to him. "I wasn't as prepared I thought I was. The guards are still there even after all these years."

Leaving the container on the floor close to him, you took your bag and started your things there, searching for food and flasks. Somebody had been following you to your hideout.

"This is all I could find." You whispered, opening the container and taking out a small glass vial with a bright red liquid inside. "I can't tell how it will affect you, but I believe it would be of use to you, Apollo. Please, consume it."

You had carefully lifted the vial as if it were going to explode and then put it on his chest, awaiting for Kars to melt it onto his body. He had been suspicious about this, for some reason unable to detect what the liquid was as the vial seemed to block it, he consumed it, nonetheless - there was a chance it could speed up the end of his hibernation.

And it did. He felt the familiar heat, albeit Kars had never thought the stone could be turned into liquid, and yet it was it, something he had been chasing for so long once before becoming who Kars was now. How come it had been somewhere here all along? Was it fate to land here where it had all ended for him once? Kars had no answers. Not that it mattered now as his petrified body was rapidly recovering, his limbs finally able to move, his dark locks softening, the paralysis shattering while he stood up, showing you his perfect form in all its glory as you stared at him, either afraid or unable to move. He was the God you were waiting for, his large wings turning into flesh hands, a halo of light surrounding his perfectly proportioned, sculptured body and making you lose your eyesight for a couple of seconds. It happened so suddenly you were trembling on your knees in front of him, forgetting about those who had trailed you and the danger they could bring to your God and you, both fear and admiration engraved into your stare. Kars was much more than you had pictured him to be, undoubtedly.

As much as he enjoyed that look on your face, devouring your fragile figure with his eyes, he could feel his enemies breathing down his neck. Of course, all of them were unworthy of seeing his true power, but even someone as miserable as them would do for a quick warm up after centuries of hibernation: once several disgustingly looking men with scars and mutilated limbs showed up in your hideout, all of them Ripple users just like Jojo had been, Kars let out a laugh, watching them demanding both him and you to surrender. Worthless little creatures, they thought they could give orders to him, the most perfect form of life on Earth. He had slashed all of them the next moment, pools of their blood dirtying the floor and spreading further to metal walls: apparently, despite them still being able to use Ripple, their power had deteriorated greatly to the point they only posed a threat to a fellow human being, someone as frail and delicate as you.

Turning to face you still on your knees, he saw your wide eyes, tears streaming down your cheeks while you covered your mouth with your hands: was your God more terrifying than you had imagined him to be? Did you think he would forgive those who made a mistake of challenging him, the most powerful being the Earth had ever hold? Silly little girl, there were so many things you had to learn about him, the God you were destined to worship and love with your whole being.

"Stand up, woman." He said, watching you tremble and trying to wipe away your tears, not knowing what you had to say to the God you finally saw in all his glory. "I demand you to leave with me before the sun rises. Gather whatever belongings you need for a long journey, we will depart soon."

You bowed to him deeply, afraid to open your mouth and say something your God would consider inappropriate, and hurried to take your bag, quickly putting everything you considered important in it while Kars stepped closer to the pathetic beings, consuming what was left of them and feeling the power coursing through his body, filling him with warmth he had craved for so long. That little vial you brought was truly worthy of him, and Kars felt satisfied it was you who found him in the sands in the middle of nowhere. He would take you with him while he would try to resurrect the Earth as he remembered it, bringing the balance to it and watching it flourish once again.

"Apollo, I have taken everything." You whispered to him timidly, forgetting you were using that fictional name you gave him.

Kars chuckled, marching through your hideout flooded with blood of his enemies. If you needed to compare him to some stupid Greek god so desperately, you should have chosen Hades.

#kars x reader #kars jjba #kars jojo #jjba #yandere #jojo #jojo's bizarre adventure #battle tendency

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9tzuyu · 3 years

Text

dissolve (rewrite)

natasha x reader

note: this was just a huge vent fic idk. these type of fics seem to be the only thing im okay at writing. mistakes are mine as always. but i did proofread, yay!

if you want to read the original (as awful as it is) you can read it here!

wanrings: this heavily revolves around eating disorders.

i’m not tagging anyone because the content isn’t really the lightest to read.

words are used everyday, everywhere – whether to describe something or someone. there’s thousands upon thousands of them.

so you were having a hard time figuring out why you were struggling so much to justify your feelings through the basis of words. it was unnerving, draining and very annoying. your emotions should be simple, right? you were either sad or happy, angry or scared. but there was something more, something unexplainable. saying you felt alone only scratched the surface of the wave of emotion that took over. it was excruciatingly painful, far worse than any physical pain you ever had to endure. and for some reason it seemed to come crashing down at night while natasha slept peacefully. you weren't exactly sure how to express your emotions to the extent you felt them. how else was anyone supposed to understand your pain? they couldn't, not unless they could somehow shift into your body and feel your emotions themselves. but that was merely impossible as such powers do not exist. so you were inevitably stuck with words foreign to your lips. over the years you were deemed unsafe, a hazard, "an accident waiting to happen" you recall one doctor say. everyone’s eyes were on you at all times, monitoring every little movement you made. it was suffocating and at times doing more damage than good.

as an adult now you learned how freeing it could be without the fear of gaining weight or eating a bowl full of rainbow marshmallow cereal. your worth was not defined by your weight.

(at least that's what you believed prior to any relapses.) everything was going well in your life. you were a college graduate working as a psychiatric nurse and you had found love, something your teenage self could only dream of. natasha was by your side through everything. and really, the only downfall in the relationship was that she had to travel a lot for her job. but you were secure enough in your relationship not to worry or decide to call things off. in the end natasha always made up for it when she came back, so you couldn't complain too much. things were going well for you, really, they were. until they weren't. (and you didn't know why.) it happened out of nowhere. work was a little more stressful than usual, but it was nothing you couldn't handle. natasha had been away for three months, only stopping by a few times to check in on you. but again, your wife being away for so long wasn't anything new or worrisome. the two of you had followed the routine of her leaving and coming back more than a thousand times; yet somewhere along the way you lost yourself. food became less of a priority, your hunger decreased drastically, and within the first month you'd lost thirteen pounds. it truly was an accident, slipping into a full blown relapse was never part of the plan. but thirteen pounds lighter you wanted more, to feel small again. you didn't have an answer as to why you became so attached to your eating disorder, but it didn't seem like it would be letting go any time soon. the rate at which you were going natasha would most definitely be able to see a difference; not only on your weight, but in the person you once were. she'd ask what happened and why it happened, poking and prodding for an answer, but you didn't have one. so here you stood in the kitchen of your shared home, a cup of sliced fruit in one hand and your cell phone in the other. you poured the fruit into the bottom of a blender along with a spoonful of yogurt and half a cup of soy milk. another half cup of ice followed suit. while the fruit blended, you shamelessly scrolled through your instagram. there was nothing interesting going on in other people's lives, you didn't even know why you had social media in the first place. it was dumb, and quite frankly you didn't give a shit whether or not sharon went to the beach. the sound of your blender coming to a halt brought your attention back to the real world. you poured your smoothie into your water bottle. the green liquid would be your breakfast and lunch for the day - dinner was still up for debate. a soft sigh left your lips. work was beginning to feel more like a chore and less of something you enjoyed. you were quickly growing tired of it. nonetheless, you grabbed your keys and rushed out of the door.

you thought about the irony of working as a psychiatric nurse with an undealt eating disorder telling teenagers how to deal with their own issues. you felt hypocritical to say the least, especially given that all the nasty side effects were starting to make themselves known.

your hair was beginning to thin, small clumps of it already starting to fall out when you tugged a little too hard. bruises could be seen scattered left and right on your body, and you were cold. god you were cold. your fingernails were tinted blue, warmth seemingly too far out of reach. you looked ill, and it didn't go unnoticed by your coworkers.

a few hours into your shift you found yourself sitting behind the nurses station filling out paperwork. lunch had passed and when your coworker, steve, asked if you were going to eat something you lied straight through your teeth, telling him you'd grab something when the patients were eating dinner.

but steve rogers could read you like an open book. he knew you were lying because he already knew what was going on. the signs of an eating disorder were quite obvious when you were a licensed therapist. and despite your futile attempts at hiding it, everyone could tell something wasn't right.

steve played it by ear for weeks until he contacted natasha, but by then you'd already lost a considerable amount of weight. as soon as she heard the news, natasha booked the next flight home. unfortunately for her though, there was only one flight and she would have to wait two and a half weeks before being able to leave.

you didn't know it, but those were the longest two and a half weeks natasha ever had to wait.

– patients were having group therapy, so you could tune them out - not that you should, but it was hard to focus when the only two things you could think about were food and your weight.

the need to lose weight sounded so stereotypical for someone with an eating disorder, but honestly it wasn't about that. it was never about wanting to be thin. you genuinely didn't know why this was happening. the only thing you noticed was how rewarding it felt seeing the number go down, as if for you were good for becoming less. it was addictive. and it didn't help that you based your entire worth on how much you could lose.

the next time you stood up from behind the nurses station steve met you in the the cafeteria. while the patients ate you took occasional sips from your smoothie. the bottle was still full of its contents from the morning. you had completely forgotten to drink it during the day, but you didn't seem to mind it that much.

the surprise touch of steve's hand on your shoulder startled you.

i am gross, you thought. do not do that.

steve caught onto the slight flinch your body produced as a reflex, but he didn't say anything about it.

"you can leave early, boss said so."

he laughed as he saw confusion plaster your face.

"what? no!"

"go home, seriously. we have this handled. you know tony doesn't like being told no."

you bit your lip, puzzled by the sudden request. most people wouldn't mind being sent home early, but all it did for you was give you a level of anxiety reserved for food.

what you didn't know was that natasha was home waiting for your arrival. she came back just short of an hour after you left for work.

while you were gone natasha made a few thorough rounds in the house looking for key signs of your eating disorder. there was bound to be evidence given that you didn't know she was home.

unsurprisingly, natasha found a glass scale beside the counter of the bathroom floor along with empty bottles of laxatives in the trashcan. the food in the fridge had been expired a few days past their date, giving her the indication that you weren't eating as much as you should be. her concern grew even more when she found your food journal on your nightstand. flipping the pages, natasha could see that throughout the moths she'd been gone your calorie intake had decreased significantly.

guilt began to gnaw at the back of her throat.

during the few days natasha stopped by, she hadn't noticed anything wrong with you. but then again she knew most people with eating disorders were very good at hiding them up until the point they were discovered. three days wasn't near enough time for her to catch onto your tricks, not when her mind was still focused on her job.

natasha always listened intently whenever you would talk about your eating disorder, the first time being six months into the relationship on a date you felt like you had ruined.

but talking about it was much different than experiencing it with you, natasha had never done that before up until now. she read nearly every article there was about anorexia, bulimia, binge eating disorder and ednos. sometimes when you were asleep she would watch documentaries on the disorder, always making sure to keep her volume at a low level.

the videos that hurt her the most were the ones teenagers struggling with the simple task of eating food.

(although natasha knew it wasn't that simple.)

it hurt because she knew that was you at some point in time.

upon your arrival, natasha cooked dinner. she wanted to hold onto the one sliver of hope that steve was wrong - that he was just overreacting - but she knew in her heart he was right about his assumption. however, dinner would only confirm what natasha so desperately wanted to deny.

when you walked through the door you were greeted with the overwhelming scent of food. you cringed at the thought of having to eat, but as soon as you looked up to see the redhead who'd been gone for so long your frown was washed away. a wide smile overtook your face and you rushed to jump into natasha's arms.

"i missed you so much," you whispered. "i thought you'd be gone for another few weeks?"

natasha's arms found their way around your waist as your legs wrapped around hers. "what? i can't come home early to surprise my wife?" you giggled in the crook of her neck. she smiled feeling the vibrations against her skin, happy to know that you'd missed her just as much as she missed you.

she sat you down, back facing you, she tended to the food. "you've lost weight," she commented, not missing the sharp inhale of your breath.

"how was work, nat?"

she nodded to herself. yeah, she didn't expect you to be so open on the first try.

"it was fine. dinner's ready, i made your favorite!" natasha threw a smile in your direction as she carried the plates over to the table. she had hoped to see your face light up the way it used to, but seeing the panicked look in your eyes further confirmed your relapse.

if nothing else, natasha wanted you to have a meal before she brought up the conversation.

"great... i love it, thank you nat!" your attempt at being enthusiastic failed miserably and you knew by the look she gave you, she already knew what was going on.

but throughout the meal, and despite the shakiness of your hand as it gripped the metal fork, natasha didn't say anything.

you weren't really sure which was worse; being confronted or knowing the both of you knew what the other was thinking and still not addressing it.

natasha's meal was good, you couldn't lie about that, but each bite you chewed caused the tightening in your chest to constrict further.

now you couldn't be good. or worthy. or deserving.

nat took away your plate when you were halfway through. she knew your limits, and she didn't want to push you too much out of your comfort zone.

"go change, i'll wash our dishes. meet you on the couch?"

you did as you were told, taking as long as you could to do so. except this time was different. you didn't glance in the mirror like you usually did, you chose to fully take in your figure.

what you saw was not what you expected to see. for the first time in months you saw a version of yourself that wasn't twisted and turned to be something you didn't know was real or not.

your skin was dry, hair thinned out beyond your belief, eyes sunken and dark underneath. the revelation gave you an odd feeling – was once again something unexplainable, unjustifiable by words.

good.

that was how you were supposed to feel, right? after all of this time, after the many pounds of protection and warmth lost, you were supposed to feel good.

but you didn't. and you never would.

there was something so surreal about the realization of your own destruction. you were aware now, which meant you had to either take responsibility or choose to lose everything you worked so hard for.

"y/n?"

your wife's voice snapped you out of your gaze and you scrambled to pile your dirty clothes and rush out of the bedroom.

as you made your way into the living room you could feel the intensity of natasha's gaze. any other time you would not mind her green eyes looking at you, but this time around you felt like you were in trouble.

she patted the empty spot next to her, to which you reluctantly joined. but even after everything you still tried to play it cool.

"what's up? is everything okay?"

she gave a low chuckle, "you tell me."

"what do you mean?"

"oh i think you know what i mean."

natasha’s reply was met with the loudest silence you ever had to sit through.

she bit her lip, "you know i got a call from steve a few weeks ago. he's concerned about you, and from what he's told me so am i."

you were quick to respond, automatically knowing what steve’s phone call was about. "i'm fine. so what if i've lost a couple of pounds? that doesn't automatically mean that im relapsing, natasha."

your quick snap reminded natasha that this kind of confrontation was like walking on eggshells.

she tilted her head, licking her lips. "i'm here with you, always." nat put a hand to the side of your face, gently rubbing her thumb at the top of your cheekbone. "i'm here."

it seemed pointless now to try and say anything because your secret was already out.

your mind began racing back and forth.

you wanted to keep what you knew best and natasha understood that. even by reading your body language she knew what you were debating.

"you know, to keep it you have to give it away." your eyes darted to meet hers. "mhm. you can still have that piece of you. mourn it, grieve it, do whatever you need to do to move onto a stage where it doesn't hurt you. and from there you can help other people, share your experience, let yourself heal by helping others."

she paused, “we all have choices. some of those choices are taken from you while others leave you with only one option.”

although what she said seemed to resonate with you, there was one thing still holding you back.

"i just want to be good."

natasha hummed. you had explained it to her in the past, though your words were jumbled together as you tried to describe it.

"you can be good in other ways. you're allowed to live a life outside of the barriers your eating disorder puts in the way."

you swallowed the lump in the back of your throat. "i don't even know how it got to this point. in january i enjoyed ihop and dennys. in february i could have oatmeal and bananas, sometimes half of a sandwhich if i was feeling brave. now it’s march and i only eat one or two things a day. the idea of having a full meal makes me want to cry. and i just- i don't know how to stop."

natasha wouldn't show it, but your words cut through her heart like a knife. her mind wandered briefly to all the teenagers in the documentaries she'd watched, hoping you weren't too far gone into your eating disorder to ever come back. those cases scared her the most.

"you've got my complete support. you've tackled this before, maybe this time you can beat it? i know its easier to abuse your body instead of growing comfortable in it, but i think you’ve got this. i know you do."

"what about your work?" your question caused natasha to frown. "you think i wouldn't set my job aside for you?" you shrugged, it's not like you felt like you were worth being taken care of anyway.

natasha grew hesitant to tell you her news, but did it anyway because she’d rather you hate her than see you dead. "i've already made some appointments for you. the first one is tomorrow morning."

"i figured you would natasha. it's okay."

you spaced yourself out the rest of the day. each time you made the executive decision to recover, whether that be a genuine recovery or not, the process never failed to remind you that even trying to recover from an eating disorder felt like mourning the loss of a friend who was never good for you in the first place.

#natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #avengers x reader #natasha romanov x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff imagine

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bts-hyperfixation · 3 years

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The Princess and The Duke – Part 1

Duke!Namjoon x Princess!reader

I know I said this wasn’t going to be out until Friday, but after the Scammys, I thought I’d put it out today! This has not yet been edited.

Warnings - future smut, allusions to smut.

The first time you met you were six months old. Barely aware you existed, let alone there was a whole world existing around you. Namjoon was two at the time. A chubby little toddler clinging desperately to his mother as he tried to hide away from all the other strange people in the room. Most of the kingdom had turned out for your christening, so obviously the future Duke’s family had also made an appearance. They stood with the rest of the court at the front of the church, most of the adults attempting to corral children of their own instead of watching the Princess’ baptism.

It was only when a shrill cry echoed through the church hall that Namjoon looked up from his mother’s shoulder trying to locate the noise. Turned out you didn’t appreciate being dipped into freezing cold holy water. From then on, he’d watched intently, each movement made by the priest and your family, craning his neck to watch you wiggle in the queen’s arms. You were just so small, and so pink. He liked pink, and you were wrapped in piles of pink lace. He knew these were traditional colours for your kingdom, his mom liked to tell him stories about the pink flowers that grew throughout his homeland. Beautiful pink daisies. They were his favourite bedtime stories.

Stories of a brave king leading his army into battle. Each week he would send home a bouquet of the only flower that grew on the battlefield. Each week the queen would know he was okay, until one week they didn’t arrive. For the next few days, the queen was inconsolable, after that she was catatonic. She sat draped in black watching the last of the pink daisies wither. As the last petal fell from the shrivelled bud, a shout was heard throughout the kingdom. The king had returned, enemies slain, and with him he brought as many flowers as the cavalry could carry. The seeds were planted throughout the country, and those were the same flowers that remained to this day. The flowers that were lining the pews of the church, and the ballroom at the palace.

After the christening, members of the court were invited for a meal and to meet the infant princess, to meet you. The banquet was held in the ballroom, a long table adorned with wreaths and favours for each of the guests. You were placed in a cradle close to the king. A place where all could visit to pay their respects and your father could protect you. Once his family had finished their meal, they visited your crib, offering a gift and paying their respects to the royals. Namjoon tugged at his mother’s dress until she lifted him to get a better look. As he peered into the cot, he was shocked to find you staring straight up at him. Other babies he met always seemed to be asleep, but not you.

He wriggled in the duchess’ arms until he could reach you. The room fell silent as he extended his chubby hand to poke at your own curled fist. No one outside of your family, the priest, and the doctors had dared to touch you yet. They waited with bated breath for a response from the king. Little Namjoon paid no attention to the eyes on him, too focused on you. Your small fingers wrapped their way around his. The king had cooed at the event, closely followed by everyone else in the room.

…

The next time you met Namjoon properly you were four, he was almost six. You’d been allowed outside to play with the other children of the court. The problem was, many of them were considerably older than you. None of the ‘big’ girls wanted to play silly little girl games. So you sat alone and watched them as they made daisy chains together. You tried to copy them from afar, but your pudgy little fingers wouldn’t cooperate, ripping through the stems instead of creating the holes needed to thread more flowers.

Namjoon had been following around the gardener when he saw you. Decapitated daisies lay by the dozen around your feet. He couldn’t bear to see the carnage continue, so he took pity on you. He picked a flower with a thick enough stem and passed it too you. To say you were thrilled was an understatement. You’d taken the flower excitedly and threaded another through before giving it back to him to make another hole. The two of you had then spent the next half hour together, him piercing stems and you threading them into long chains. He laughed as you concentrated. Your tongue stuck out of the side of your mouth as you focused on the task at hand.

When you decided the chain was long enough, he made one last hole so you could form a circle. With the ring complete you stepped on your tippy toes to place it over his head, nodding in approval as the string draped from his neck to his knees. He looked down, assessing his new accessory and beamed a smile back at you. The first time you ever saw his dimples. Immediately you were compelled to poke them. He didn’t stop you as you reached for his cheek, instead laughing so they deepened.

You weren’t like any princess he had seen in his books. Those princesses were graceful and dainty. You were more like a bull in a china shop. Honestly, he was relived. All the other boys were in high school, they had no time for him. And the girls all wanted him to play ‘prince charming’. It was fun playing with you. You’d run around the gardens with him, dig in the mud, and exchange the stories your parents read at bedtimes.

…

Age six brought the loss of your first tooth. The tooth had been placed in a tissue under your pillow and the next morning it had become money! You had been so excited to tell Namjoon all about it, only for him to burst your bubble.

“The tooth fairy isn’t real Y/N” he’d stated matter-of-factly, his nose turned up at the notion.

“Is too!” you’d cried back petulantly. You’d seen her with your own two eyes. Well you’d been half asleep, and it was dark… but you were certain it had been her.

“Is not!” the eight-year-old boy retorted. “I’ll prove it! Next time you lose a tooth don’t tell nobody. She won’t come I promise.” He’d sounded so smug. You wanted to hit him. instead you set out to prove him wrong. You kept wiggling your teeth hoping one would come loose. It’s around a month later you get your chance. The tooth came out in the apple you were eating for dessert. Carefully you hid the bone from your nanny so she couldn’t tell your parents. After you were tucked in that night, you slid the bone under your pillow and waited for the fairy to visit you. But she never came.

The next day when you saw Namjoon, you were devastated, but still not ready to concede the fairy’s existence.

“Maybe I upset her?” you sniffle at him “You’re not supposed to wait for her, I broke the rules! That’s why she didn’t come! What if she never visits me again?” tears fell freely down your face. Namjoon had never felt so guilty, not even when he lied about breaking his mom’s favourite vase. He had watched you cry for a moment, unsure of where to go from here. He had made the heir to the throne cry… could he get locked away for this?

“It’s my fault Y/N! I was just jealous” he quickly tried to formulate a believable story in his head as you wiped away your tears.

“Jealous?” your voice was small, a little hope filtering through the sadness.

“Yeah… jealous. See I… uh… I’ve nearly got all my big teeth now, so she doesn’t come to see me as often. I bet if you put the tooth under your pillow tonight and go to sleep, she will come!” your face had lit up at the news. Immediately after he’d said goodbye to you, he went and told the gardener about your tooth. When you woke up the next day, a shiny coin was in the tooth’s place. You’d held the discovery over Namjoon for the few months, but he didn’t care. He was just happy you were happy and that he didn’t get into trouble.

…

At age eight you were definitely not shaping up to be the perfect princess. In fact you were quite the rambunctious little tot. Your mother became more and more exasperated every time you turned up with a new grass stain on one of your best gowns. She begged you to spend more time having tea parties with the girls instead. It was never your fault though. The tea parties were dull and Namjoon would challenge you to a race through the maze, or to see who could climb highest in the trees. You couldn’t just let him win.

If you weren’t running around or rolling down hills, you were lying together staring up at the clouds from the middle of the topless bandstand in the middle of the maze. The beautiful white stone structure had quickly become ‘your’ spot. None of the other palace kids showed any interest in exploring the maze, and the adults always seemed to get lost trying to find you. Hours were wasted with the two of you just staring up at the sky, sometimes talking about your day, sometimes in complete silence. It was just nice to be with him.

On calmer days he would read aloud from a book while you made daisy chains. You could do it by yourself now. Much more in control of your own limbs than you used to be. The summer before Namjoon was due to go to high school you made a chain so long you could coil it around the entire base of the bandstand.

…

After he started high school, you saw a lot less of Namjoon. He wasn’t able to come around as often between his homework and extracurriculars. Instead you begged your father to let you attend his football games. Each Saturday you went in disguise with your nanny to watch Namjoon play, regardless of the weather. You weren’t even sure you enjoyed the sport, but it was worth it for the smile he flashed every time he found you amongst the onlookers.

Each week you wore a different disguise wanting to make it difficult for him, but each time he found you without fail.

You melted every time, knowing that smile was just for you. Originally you told yourself it was just a swell of pride, watching your best friend play. Eventually you had to admit to yourself that maybe it was more than that, but you swallowed the crush. After all he was in high school, he wouldn’t want a silly little girl like you anyway.

…

When you turned fourteen it was time to for you to be presented to the kingdom. A ball was thrown in your honour, the first of many you would attend in your lifetime. The thought of being alone at any big event made you feel queasy. The fact that this one was going to be focused entirely on you made you ill for an entire week before. Namjoon had spent the week trying to reassure you that everything was going to be fine. Luckily, your birthday had been during a break from school so he could spend the time with you. He grew more and more concerned as he watched your health deteriorating to a point where you could barely keep water down. Eventually he came to a decision and asked for an audience with the king himself.

He’d dressed in his best suit making sure not a single hair was out of place. He marched straight up to the double doors to your father’s study and took a deep breath, more than prepared to argue his point. Your father had welcomed Namjoon into his office with open arms. He’d always been fond of the boy, especially knowing the weak spot you held for him. Regardless of the warm reception and his original confidence in his idea, Namjoon felt the nerves begin to overtake him. He wiped his sweaty palms on the sides of his suit jacket, breath coming out shakily.

“Can I escort Y/N to her first ball.” The king had been taken aback by Joon’s sudden outburst, his face showing obvious surprise at the young man’s bold request. Namjoon mistook the expression for a dismissal and so, in a much less eloquent way than he had practiced in is shower, he fought his case.

“Y/N has been ill all week; she doesn’t think she can do this alone…. And I just thought… maybe she would be okay if I were with her. I know I’m only a duke, but I just want her to be okay and I really think this would be good and it’ll only be for this one ball and…” Namjoon’s rambling came to an end when your father raised his hand. Namjoon clenched his fists as he waited for an answer.

Your father had taken his time to consider Namjoon’s proposal, enjoying the way the boy had squirmed under his gaze. To this day, Namjoon refers to it as the second most terrifying day of his life. Eventually a smile had broken over the kings face, no longer able to contain his laugh. He clapped Namjoon on the shoulder and sent him off with his blessing.

On his way to meet you in the gardens afterwards, he had gathered the prettiest daisies he could find. He found you lying on the floor of the bandstand, looking a little too pale as you stared up at the clouds floating past. He cleared his throat on arrival, making you look at him with the offer of a weak smile, not really taking him in.

When he didn’t take his place beside you, you’d sat up to look at him properly. That’s when you saw the pinstripe suit and quaffed hair. It looked so unlike him you couldn’t help but giggle. Normally Joon was a t-shirt and basketball shorts kind of guy. He had rolled his eyes and extended his hand to help you up. You took it, every question in your mind had gotten stuck in your throat when his eyes had met yours. You never did get over that silly little crush. He didn’t release your hand like you expected him too. Instead he placed the bouquet into your free hand and asked you the question you’d been dreaming he would.

“Just to protect you of course… I don’t like when you aren’t well” He’d broken the moment by ruffling your hair, a sure sign he was doing this as a favour.

He took you to every ball you attended after that one.

…

The summer you turned seventeen was the summer before Namjoon left for university. You snuck out passed your guards in the night to see him. There was a very convenient secret passageway that led from your room to the gardens. You would meet him at the bandstand and talk until the sun came over the horizon. The lack of sleep had been worth it to spend those last fleeting days with him. You talked about anything and nothing, just like you would in the daytime, but this felt far more intimate.

The first time you convinced him to meet you after curfew his eyes flitted everywhere. Always nervous someone would find the two of you there and assume the worst. You on the other hand were just desperate to soak up as much of your friends company as you could before he left.

Over time he’d become more comfortable with the routine. In fact he had been certain that your sneaking around hadn’t even been that sneaky, your parents were just allowing you to rebel like this. Eventually he got used to walking you back to the entrance of the secret passageway, spending an extra few moments together.

His final night in town had been an emotional one. You’d sat side by side, your head on his shoulder staring up at the stars in complete silence for a long time. A tear fell down your cheek every time you thought about him leaving you. He’d wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close just as a shooting star arched across the sky. You immediately had a wish in mind. Eyes scrunched tight and fists clenched, you wished as hard as you could that he would stay, or at least that he’d come back fast. But unfortunately, he had to go, and morning came around far too fast.

You’d dragged your feet as he walked you back to the passageway. Shoulders bumping together, fingers brushing, glances stolen when you were sure the other wasn’t looking. The wall that concealed your entrance had come into view far too quickly. You’d sighed as you reluctantly pressed in the stones that would open the doorway, far from ready to say goodbye to the boy you’d grown up with. You hugged him goodbye, tears streaming freely down your face. You’d released him and turned to walk back into the castle, but as you’d taken that first step, he grabbed you sharply by the wrist and pulled you back to him.

His lips were so soft as they met yours. The surprise had knocked all the air out of your lungs forcing you to pull back sooner than you would’ve liked. He wiped the tears from your face and pulled you back to him, kissing you once more. And then he was gone.

…

The following autumn had dragged by. With no Namjoon, you had been forced to invest in the idle gossip of other members of the court, actually pay attention in your elocution lessons, and, perhaps worst of all, prepare for your first ball without your trusty escort. Every time you thought of Namjoon your lips tingled at the memory of your first kiss. You were devastated when his parents had told you he wouldn’t be able to make it home for the Christmas ball.

When the time came, you’d prepared for the ball like you had every other. A team came to pinch, primp, and style you to within an inch of yourself. This year they’d decided on a snow theme. Your pale blue ballgown had been the most beautiful one you’d worn at that point. It glittered like freshly fallen snow in the winter sun. The skirt poofed out around your waist and fell just above your feet so people could still see the matching shoes with little snowflakes. It was the best you thought you’d ever looked, and it broke your heart to know Namjoon wasn’t going to see you like that.

When the time came, you’d taken a breath and readied yourself for a night of refusing advances of handsy nobles, and questions you weren’t prepared to answer about the whereabouts of your usual date. You took a hold of the banister and began your entrance into the grand ballroom, desperately trying to keep your eyes forward and not trip at the same time. Whilst concentrating on not falling flat on your face, you had failed to notice one crucial detail about the room before you, until he took your hand and brought it to his lips. Namjoon had made it home after all.

You spent the entire event together. For every slow dance you were in the middle of the floor swaying together as he whispered sweet things in your ear. Time not on the dance floor had been spent laughing and catching up. The night came to an end with you escaping to your spot.

He’d picked a daisy and threaded it into your hair, trailing his fingers down the side of your face when he was finished. You’d boldly stepped even closer to him, lips inches away from his, daring him to repeat the night he left, and he’d gladly taken the opportunity. He’d pulled you impossibly closer, lifting you on to your tiptoes and kissed you like a man starved. You’d wrapped your arms around his waist. Desperately trying to make up for lost time. Eventually you came to rest, foreheads resting against one another, breathing hard.

“Y/N I love you.” It was the first time he admitted it out loud, but it certainly wouldn’t be the last. In fact he said it at least twenty more times that night.

“I love you too Joon.” You kissed him one more time before taking his hand and breaking into a sprint. You came to a stop at the passageway to your chambers. “Come in with me?” You’d asked, flashing him doe eyes he had never been able to resist.

“Are you sure?” He brushed a stray hair behind your ear and met your eyes, you’d never seen him look so serious.

“Well I can’t get out of this dress alone.” You’d tried to joke. When his expression didn’t change you gulped down any reservations and nodded. “I’m completely sure.” He’d swept you into his arms and carried you through your room laying you down on your bed. His coat and tie had been immediately discarded across the room. You’d sat up to get a better look as he undid the buttons on his white dress shirt, biting your lip at the thought of running your hands across his bare skin. He stopped undressing himself to look back at you.

“You’re so beautiful.” He embraced you, fingers finding the zipper at the back of your gown. You allowed the sleeves to fall down your arms, exposing your chest to him. Immediately his lips had gone to trail along your collarbones. He mumbled ‘I love you’ as he went. Each kiss punctuated by the words you’d longed to hear from him. You pushed his shirt down his shoulders, letting your hands linger on his biceps, rubbing little circles on the perfect skin.

“Joon?” he answers you with a hmm. “Is this real?” he pulled away from you to meet your eyes.

“I hope so.” He responded before kissing you deeply again. When you’d gotten the chance you’d stood up and allowed the dress to puddle around your feet. He reached out to pull you in again by your newly expose waist, positioning you underneath him. He’d kissed down your stomach until he reached the top of your underwear.

“Maybe we should stop here?” he’d said, pulling away from you, “I want our first time to be something amazing.” You’d nodded, a little reluctant, but you’d waited this long for him, you could wait a little longer. Instead you’d settled into your bed together, cuddled close in just your underwear, praying that you didn’t wake up from this dream.

…

Everything was perfect, you stayed together throughout both his and your university experience. The whole kingdom knew of their childhood sweethearts. The duke and the princess destined to be together. The night of your graduation, a large ball had been put together in your honour and while no one dared say it aloud, everyone was certain there were hidden intentions behind the congratulatory event. The feeling was in the air, the whole of the kingdom whispered rumours of how the young duke was going to propose. They wondered how it would be announced, if he was going to ask you in the middle of all the guest, or if he’d elect to be more private about it.

But then the day of the ball arrived and Namjoon wasn’t waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs like he usually would. You assumed he would be waiting somewhere to surprise you, but the whispers started as soon as you’d turned up to the ballroom unescorted. No one had seen him. The entire night people had congratulated you on graduating, but your heart wasn’t even your replies. Instead you’d spent the night searching every face in the room for a sign of your missing lover.

As the night wore on it became clear that he had no intentions of attending. You’d put every ounce of your princess training to good use that night as you tried not to cry, humiliated in front of everyone you had ever known.

Awaiting you in your bedroom at the end of the night was a bouquet of pink daisies and a simple note that said ‘I’m so sorry’

You wouldn’t see Namjoon again for two years…

Part 2

Masterlist

Losing Virginity drabble

Taglist: @uraveragefangirlsposts

#namjoon #rm #bts fic #bts fluff #bts angst #bts smut #namjoon fluff #namjoon smut #namjoon angst #rm fluff #rm smut #rm angst #kim namjoon #knj smut #knj fluff #knj angst #bts #bangtan #100

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princesssarcastia · 3 years

Text

2021 Harry Potter Fanfic Primer

im here to point fingers at the incredible authors that have enabled my new interest in HP content. im still conflicted and upset about it, tbh, but for now we’re leaning into the curve. we’re getting out our shovel and finding out just how deep we can make the hole we’re in. hand in unlovable hand my beloved <3. anyway, these fics are wonderful, their authors are wonderful, and you should go read their stuff. if there’s a star next to it that means im losing my mind over it and always will be.

Creatively Maladjusted, by elumish on AO3, 101k (they also have a wonderful writing advice blog on tumblr, @elumish, which I recommend following if you are a writer)

A very excellent re-telling of harry’s first year at hogwarts if he were sorted into Slytherin, plus some more not!fic or piecemeal re-tellings of his second and part of his third year. Harry, in this, has a slightly different trauma response to growing up with the Dursley’s. He’s a bit quieter, and the signs are a bit more obvious to the people around him, and I enjoyed that immensely.

Honestly, if you’re going to get sucked into something you have absolutely no business getting sucked into, elumish is the way to go, their fic is incredible. their teen wolf fic is also immaculate, if you’re so inclined.

Dissonance, by ImpishTubist on AO3, 2.5k (@impishtubist on tumblr)

Set during fifth year. Oblivious!Harry has always been a delightful trope when well executed, and this is well executed. Plus, some angst between Remus and Harry over what Umbridge has been doing to him.

I would certainly recommend a lot of ImpishTubist’s other hp work on AO3, like Lacuna.

blow us all away, by rexcorvidae on AO3, 23k (@rexcorvidae on tumblr)

In progress (like, updated last week in progress). Currently in the beginning of Harry’s first year. Fem!Harry, Indian!Harry. Hagrid puts Harry in touch with Remus when she has questions about her parents, and they become reluctant, traumatized, angst-ridden pen pals who keep missing each other’s true intentions like ships in the night. hot DAMN do I love this fic. there’s hints of the way the dursley’s treat Harry peaking through in her letters, and I appreciated the attention to “hmm, her experience as a girl of indian descent in britain under the thumb of a bunch of white people who like being Normal may not have been gucci”

Definitely comb through the rest of their HP fic, too, I may or may not have gone feral over it.

Where the Heart is, by silver_fish on AO3, 15k (@kohakhearts on tumblr)

Woof. This one said, “hey, harry was probably SUPER depressed in the summer after fifth year. like, clinically. maybe someone should do something about that.” Fuck yeah. Then this one said, “that someone was Snape.” You all know my opinions on Snape; generally, Bad. But damn if this fic didn’t wholly convince me by the end of it. I thought it was a very realistic way for Snape to start seeing Harry as a person all on his own, and not a proxy for Snape’s angst over James and Lily, respectively. The angst is wonderful, the ending is even more so.

*bernie sanders voice* I am once again asking you to read through the rest of the author’s HP fic. a lot of them have similar themes; there’s actually a great one with Molly that i’m not reccing here, Wonder.

☆Bindings, Bindings, by Quietlemonhush on AO3, 60k (@quietlemonhush on tumblr)

WORDS CANNOT EXPRESS TO YOU HOW MUCH I ENJOYED/AM ENJOYING THIS. If I had to pick a single fic and say “you, it’s your fault I’m stuck here,” it would be this one. Anyway Lily in the afterlife is So Very Angry about how Petunia is treating Harry, and how Sirius is rotting in Azkaban, and how Remus is alone, that she literally brings herself back to life and drags James and Regulus with her. All three of them are there to chew bubblegum and fix everything that went wrong after they died—and would you look at that, they’re all out of bubblegum! There’s only Fury left. That inciting premise is very crack, but every moment after that is very much not crack. Lily and James love harry more than anything, the way a child should be loved; James and Sirius have the epic friendship of a lifetime; Sirius and Remus have staggering amounts of resolved sexual tension and take turns keeping each other in check; Regulus, though he realized that Voldemort and his family were shit before he died, is still unlearning all his racist bullshit and, also, years of trauma. Actually, they’re all traumatized, but hey: now they have one another again and not a damn one of them seems inclined to let go anytime soon. Quietlemonhush went, “hey, HP has a lot of Awful people in it, and a lot of Righteous people in it, and many of them are Very, Very Powerful; also, love is the most powerful force in the universe” and i said “hell yes tell me more right now.” And then they did!

Quietlemonhush writes Sirius/Remus in a way that makes it sooo much fun to devour, so the rest of their HP fic is most certainly worth a look, if that’s your thing.

Rebuilding, by Colubrina on AO3, 113k (@colubrina on tumblr)

Hermione/Draco (*shrug emojis into the abyss* yeah, yeah, like none of us have ever been there before). Takes place during Hogwarts 8th year, and while the beginning is, IMO, a little unfair to Ron, it gets much better. Tells the story of Hermione and Draco clearing the air, learning to like each other, having some hormones over each other, and then falling in love. Also tells the story of Hermione and Theo Nott becoming friends; the story of how every single 7th and 8th year student is fucked to hell by the war and the Carrows; the story of how they start an emotional support group about it and all become friends; and the story of, what the hell do you do with yourself after that kind of trauma?

I’ve been dipping in and out of Colubrina’s HP since before I was even on tumblr; I actually found them in those dark yesteryears when the only fandom interactions I had were on fanfiction.net. Of such fame as Green Girl, which is an HP fic staple, and has also written a lot of wackier, crackier, and darker things than that. If you don’t take yourself too seriously, I highly recommend many of their big HP works, though I imagine it’ll press some people’s buttons. Colubrina’s work really does take up a corner of my mind whenever I’m in an HP mood, and will take up yours if you let it.

☆ all waiting is long, by shuofthewind on AO3, 149k ( @shu-of-the-wind on tumblr)

This is so well written that I can’t stop thinking about it. It is occupying my mind when I lie awake at night, you know? It’s one of those. Hermione messes with something she probably shouldn’t have in Grimmauld Place, so when Sirius is sent through the Veil in the Department of Mysteries, she gets thrust into an alternate universe...in 1975. Instead of handwaving it away, shuofthewind actually gets into the mechanics of it in a way that makes sense, to emphasize that hermione is never going home. ever. The world she finds herself is shifted slightly to the left, quite a bit darker, but in a “the author is treating the idea of a society-wide conflict over blood purity much more seriously than JKR ever did” way, not a sensationalist way. Now, Hermione has to grapple with all her grief at losing everyone she’s ever loved or known, the moral/ethical/magical implications of sharing what she knows about her future in an alternate world, and, you know, a goddamn war with people who want to murder her for being who she is. This Hermione is smart, and she’s kind, and she’s powerful, and she’s making real friends. If you hate JKR’s guts I’d go read this right now, because it delivers in all the ways she failed us. It’s plotty, its got great world-building, and it pulls back the white curtain on the wizarding world to show you that, like real life, it’s multicultural and full of queer people...and the discrimination that comes with both.

shuofthewind write epics, mainly for the MCU, and I’ve read some of them a looooong time ago, so this fic kinda seemed out of left field for me but im SOOOO GLAD it exists. If you want MCU fic you can sink your teeth into, go for it, but alas, they do not have any more HP fic (.......yet?)

Speak Now [+] Listen Now, by mrsfrizzle on AO3, 33k altogether

Harry reaches out to Remus for support because Umbridge is getting to him with her literal torture. Remus, being a former professor, former mandatory reporter, person who loves Harry and has since he was born, and all around good man, tells Harry he has to tell someone, or Remus will. It’s everything any adult looking back on that time in HP canon ever wanted, which is for an actual adult to say “what the fuck, those are literal chidlren” and then do something about it. Then, a far more dangerous task: Harry trusts Remus enough to go to him about the Dursleys. Harry and Remus’ relationship develops SO WELL, and there’s a bit of exploration about how Sirius may not exactly be guardian material, because he did in fact spend 12 years of his life getting tortured instead of growing up. I think I’m actually going to go reread this right now, because it speaks to my id.

they do have some other HP fic which did not appeal to my hyperspecific wants, but may appeal to some of yours. I think they’re also a published author, there should be a link on their profile page.

chase the stars, by Duskglass on AO3, 101k (@felix-duskglass on tumblr)

When Harry is five years old, a picture of him ends up in the Daily Prophet, and Sirius Black, Terror of Ministry Officials Touring Azkaban everywhere, gets a hold of that issue. He then, in order: breaks out of Azkaban; crosses the countryside to Surrey; Finds Harry: Kidnaps Harry; Breaks Into Remus’ Apartment; starts processing (or maybe just acknowledging) his trauma from Azkaban, the war, and his childhood; and pines after Remus. It’s a little plotty, and deals a lot (sometimes through flashbacks) with the specific awful things that happened to Sirius—largely because, after years in the constant presence of Dementors, those are nearly literally the only memories he has left. It’s a wonder he’s got the strength to love Harry and Remus at all. But then, maybe it isn’t.

This is a Very Serious Fic, but the rest of Duskglass’s HP work is actually just cracky enough to tickle your funny-bone, while still making you think “okay but why couldn’t we have done that in the first place.”

So! That’s it for recs, for now. These are all things I’ve found and read in the last month; if any of y’all are interested in my old HP recs, let me know and I can make a post for that, too. While I’m still very conflicted about my choice of current fandom, I am not in ANY way conflicted about my taste in fic and authors. Send these guys some love, read their fic if you’re so inclined, and leave some nice comments at the end of it.

#harry potter #hp #fic recs #hp fic #to the authors: if for some reason you don't want to be on this list #let me know and i'll be happy to take your part down #tho i'm hoping you're fine with it because i want other people to read this stuff #and then cry about it with me #harry potter fic #harry potter fic recs

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dialovers-translations · 3 years

Text

Diabolik Lovers VANDEAD CARNIVAL ;; Azusa Route ー Chapter 3

ー The scene starts on one of the side streets

Azusa: ...Things seem really lively...over on the other side.

Yui: You’re right...I wonder if there’s some sort of event going on?

( Hmm, I’m a little curious, but returning to the castle is more important right now, huh...? )

???: Young lady, do you have a spare minute?

Yui: Eh...?

???: I’m talking to you.

Yui: ( He suddenly reached out for me but...Who is this person...? )

Um...Me?

???: Yes, exactly. You.

Yui: ( It doesn’t seem like he’ll suddenly jump me...? )

Azusa: ...Eve, do you know this guy...?

Yui: No...

Azusa: ...Stay behind me, okay...?

*Rustle*

Yui: G-Gotcha...

Azusa: ...What do you need from her?

???: Oh come on, no need to get so defensive.

I promise I’m not a threat in the slightest. I’m just a passerby fortune teller.

Fortune teller: I figured I would read her fortune.

Yui: My fortune...?

Azusa: ...

...No.

Yui: Azusa-kun...?

Azusa: Eve...Let’s go. This person is suspicious...

Fortune teller: Those words sting a little.

Azusa: I mean...A normal Vampire would never...

Reach out to a human such as Eve like this, would he...?

Yui: Ah...

( Right...He does have a point. All the Vampires I’ve run into so far. )

( Every single one of them reacted to my blood...So it might be a little unnatural for him. )

( To casually strike up a conversation with me like this. )

...It really is strange, huh?

Azusa: ...Hey, Eve, let’s go?

Yui: Yeah.

ー The two of them walk away

Fortune teller: ...Aah, won’t you please wait?

ー He grabs hold of Yui’s hand

*Rustle*

Yui: Eh...!?

( He’s tugging onto my arm...!? )

Azusa: Yui-san...!?

Fortune teller: I want to read your palm.

Yui: My...palm, you say?

Fortune teller: Yes. Now, show it to me.

*Rustle rustle*

Fortune teller: ...Oh? It seems like you’ve injured your hand.

Yui: ( Ah...From earlier... )

Fortune teller: Can I remove this handkerchief?

...

Yui: ( ...He’s staring intently at my palm...I wonder if he’ll actually predict my fortune...? )

Fortune teller: ...I’ve seen your fortune.

Yui: Eh...?

Fortune teller: ...There’s a line (1) which reads that you will find what you’ve been looking for.

Yui: I’ll find...what I’ve been looking for...?

( I wonder what that means...? )

Azusa: ...Eve!

*Thud*

Yui: Azusa-kun...!?

Azusa: Stay behind me...

*Cling*

Yui: ( Eh...!? Why did he pull out a knife...!? )

Azusa: ...Get away from her.

Yui: You can’t do this, Azusa-kun! It’s dangerous to pull out a weapon like that!

Azusa: ...Don’t worry...I promised that...I would protect you, right?

So...Get your hands off my Eve.

Fortune teller: ...Heh.

You’re really putting me on the spot with that cold glare.

I genuinely just wanted to read her fortune without any ulterior motives, so please rest assured.

Well then, I suppose I shall back off now.

ー The fortune teller starts stepping away

Fortune teller: Aah...Right.

The spa here in the Demon World should help against your injury. ...Go and give a visit if you’d like.

While everyone is busy enjoying the Carnival, I’m sure it’ll be deserted.

It should be the safest place in the whole Demon World.

ー He leaves

Yui: ...

Azusa: ...Nn.

Yui: I-I wonder what that guy’s deal was...?

Azusa: I don’t really understand myself either but...Are you okay, Yui-san?

He didn’t do anything weird to you, right...?

Yui: Yeah, I’m fine.

Thank you for saving me earlier...

Ah...You’ve got a small cut on your hand...

( I wonder if he cut himself when he pulled out the knife earlier...? )

You got hurt because of me, huh? ...I’m sorry.

Azusa: ...I’m fine. I’m a Vampire after all...

I don’t care as long as you’re safe and well.

Yui: But...Please don’t be so reckless again, okay...?

Just like how you’re worried about me...

I’m also concerned about you.

Azusa: Yui-san...Yeah.

Yui: Right, why don’t we try visiting this spa mentioned by the fortune teller earlier?

It might actually be free of risk right now...

Azusa: ...You’re going to listen to him...?

Yui: I just figured it is worth the shot if it’ll help heal my injury.

Azusa: ...

Yui: Besides...You’re hurt now as well...Why don’t we go take a look...?

Azusa: ...If you say so...

Yui: ( Thank god...! )

Well then...The spa is...

Azusa: ...I believe it’s over at the sky terrace...

Yui: Eh? I see!

Azusa: Yeah...Eve, let’s hurry...

Yui: Y-Yeah!

ー The scene shifts to the sky terrace

Yui: ( We made it to the sky terrace but... )

( I wonder where the spa in question is...? )

( Huh? What is Azusa-kun looking at? )

Azusa-kun, what’s wrong?

Azusa: Ah, Eve...The spa is on the rooftop it seems...

Yui: Ah, you’re right! It’s written over here.

Azusa: Let’s go...

Yui: ( A spa in the Demon World, huh...? I wonder what it’s like? )

ー The scene shifts to the spa area

Yui: Waah...! So this is the resort.

Azusa: ...It’s my first time here as well...

Yui: There really doesn’t seem to be anyone around...I wonder if it’s always like this?

Azusa: ...Ruki said that...Usually it’s much more lively...

Yui: I see.

( The combination of a hot tub and Vampires is kind of strange... )

Azusa: ...Eve? What’s wrong...?

Yui: Ah, s-sorry! It’s nothing!

Azusa: ...Is that so? Okay then...

Yui: ( ...Putting that aside. )

( I didn’t think I’d be going to the hot springs in the Demon World. )

Well, see you in a bit then, Azusa-kun.

Azusa: Eh...? Why...?

We’re not entering the bath together...?

Yui: Eh!?

Azusa: Why do you seem so surprised...?

Yui: I-I mean...!? Taking a bath together is obviously out of the question!?

Azusa: ...Why not? You don’t...like spending time with me...?

Yui: T-That’s not the problem...!

Azusa: ...? Then why...?

Yui: W-Well, it’s embarrassing...

Azusa: Embarrassing...?

Yui: Yeah...

Azusa: Because I’m with you...?

Yui: Mmh...

Azusa: ...

...

...I’ll be watching you from over there then.

So you can get in the tub alone, okay...?

Yui: Eh...?

( Basically I’ll go in while he’s watching me from the sidelines!? )

( That’s honestly even more embarrassing... )

Um, I don’t want that either...I guess.

Azusa: ...

We can’t enjoy the hot springs together. Nor do you want to get in alone...

Why...?

Yui: ( Oh no, I’m troubling him, huh...? )

( But I can’t get in together. )

Azusa: ?

Yui: Azusa-kun, what’s wrong?

Azusa: ...

Together’s a no, and you don’t want to get in the tub alone either...So then I’ll just bathe by myself...

*Rustle rustle*

Yui: ( Wah! He started stripping out of his clothes...! )

( W-What now...!? )

I-I’ll go over there, okay!?

Azusa: Ah, Yui-san...

Yui: !?

ー She suddenly trips

Yui: ( Kyah! My foot slipped...! )

*SPLASH*

Yui: ...

Azusa: ...Are you okay, Eve?

Yui: Y-Yeah...

Azusa: Fufu, then...

Yui: ( Oh no...! How did things turn out like this...A-Azusa-kun’s right behind me...! )

Azusa: ...

Yui: ( Uu, this really is embarrassing...! )

Azusa: You’ve been facing down this whole time...Has the hot water already gotten to you perhaps...? (2)

Yui: That’s not it but...How to put this...It’s embarrassing so...

Azusa: Embarrassing...? Why?

We’re the only ones here, remember...?

Yui: ( That’s...I know but...! )

Why, you ask...? I mean, I didn’t expect for the two of us...

To end up in the hot tub together like this...

Azusa: ...You don’t like bathing with me...?

Yui: Ah, I don’t dislike it, but...

Azusa: ...Really...?

Yui: Yeah...

Azusa: Then...Come a little closer...?

*Splash*

Yui: Wah...Azusa-kun...!

It’s dangerous to suddenly pull me close, you know?

Azusa: But...I know you won’t move my way if I don’t do this...

Yui: ( Uu... )

*Splash*

Yui: ( The silence only makes it even more embarrassing... )

( Right! I should strike up a conversation...! )

Selection

→ I’m curious about something (☾)

Yui: ( I should probably inform Azusa-kun... )

About the thing I noticed while he was changing earlier... )

Um, Azusa-kun. There’s this thing I’ve been curious about...

Azusa: ...Eh?

→ Keep quiet after all

Yui: ( ...What should I say? )

( Guess I’ll keep quiet after all... )

Azusa: ...Yui-san, you’ve gone silent again...

Do you hate doing this with me after all...?

Yui: ( Ah...I made him pull a sad face again... )

Ah...Um...Right! There’s something I’m curious about...

Azusa: Curious...?

Yui: I realized just now but...

*Splash*

Yui: Look...The cut on the inside of my palm has disappeared...

Azusa: Eh? ...Let me see for a second...

Yui: Sure...

Azusa: ...You’re right...

Yui: Told you...? I was surprised to find out it had suddenly disappeared...

Do you know how?

Azusa: ...

...You’re right, it healed too quickly...

Yui: Could it be...The fortune teller from earlier?

Perhaps he did something when he touched my hand to look at it...?

Azusa: ...

...Say, instead of thinking about that right now...

We’re finally taking a bath together...So I’d love to do something...

Yui: Eh...!? A-And what would that something be...?

Azusa: Hmー ...Perhaps we could compete to see...Who can endure the hot water the longest?

Yui: Ah...That’s what you meant...

( He suddenly said something weird like that, so it startled me... )

Azusa: What’s wrong, Eve...? You’re blushing...?

Yui: Eh!? Ah, no! It’s nothing!

Azusa: Fufu...Silly Eve~

Yui: But on the topic of bathing, I’m actually the type to soak for quite some time.

I won’t lose to you!

Azusa: ...I’m good at enduring as well...So I’ll try my best.

*TIMESKIP*

Yui: A...Azusa-kun...

Azusa: ...What’s wrong?

Yui: You’re still fine...?

Azusa: Yeah...

Yui: ( Wow...Quite some time has passed since as well...! )

Azusa-kun...That’s amazing...

Azusa: Is it...? I figured this much was normal...

Yui: ( It definitely isn’t...! )

Azusa: Ah...But...I’ve gotten scolded by Ruki before.

For taking too long in the bathroom...

Yui: Is that so?

Azusa: Yeah...Also...I’ve competed with Kou and Yuma as well.

Those times I had the best record as well, I believe...

Yui: Amazing...

I always thought I took long baths as well.

But compared to you, I still have a long way to go.

I think I’ll get out for a bit.

What will you do?

Azusa: I’ll...stay in the water a little longer, I suppose...

I’m feeling warm and cozy...

Yui: R-Really...?

Azusa: I feel a little lightheaded as well.

Yui: ...Eh!?

( When he said he feels lightheaded just now... )

( Does that perhaps mean...? )

You can’t, Azusa-kun! Get out right now!

Azusa: Eh? ...But why...? This is where the real fun always starts...?

Yui: Always!?

( So he always continues to sit in the tub while dizzy...!? )

Azusa-kun, that’s happening because you soaked for too long! You have to get out soon or...!

Azusa: It’s okay, Eve...Don’t woーー

*Splash*

Yui: Azusa-kun!?

Azusa: ...Uu...

Yui: Kyah...! Azusa-kun, everything alright!? Azusa-kun...!!

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) The term 相 or ‘sou’ in fortune telling means a ‘seeming’. However, since he was reading her palm, I translated it as ‘line’ since they usually rely on the lines on your hand for this type of fortune telling.

(2) Since Japanese love taking extremely hot baths (even outside of hot spring culture), they have one verb for ‘to grow dizzy due to bathing in hot water for too long’, being のぼせる or ‘noboseru’.

← RETURN TO CHAPTER 2

→ PROCEED WITH MAIN STORY [CHAPTER 4]

→ SUB-SCENARIO #1 [W/ REIJI]

→ SUB-SCENARIO #2 [W/ SUBARU]

→ SUB-SCENARIO #3 [W/ YUMA]

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #azusa mukami #vandead carnival #diabolik lovers translation #vcazusachapter3

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mldrgrl · 3 years

Text

Broken Things 24/24

by: mldrgrl Rating: varies by chapter, rated R overall See Chapter 1 for summary and notes**

**Additional notes to follow in a separate post

Epilogue

There’s a bookcase in their room built by Luke Doggett that Mulder has filled with books of all kinds. He’s glad they decided to extend the bedroom out when they did the expansion because it takes up a lot of space. He’s also glad for the extra room because it means, while Katherine paces back and forth, he can follow behind and not bump into too many things.

Katherine stops suddenly and leans onto the bookcase. She moans deeply and Mulder holds her from behind and rubs her hips.

“You’re doing wonderfully,” Monica says. “Just breathe through it. Keep breathing.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to lie down?” Mulder asks. “Just for a little while.”

Katherine hisses through her teeth and shakes her head. Her forehead wrinkles and she moans again and clutches Mulder’s hand so tightly he’s sure it might break. Monica comes over and puts her hand on Katherine’s belly.

“I think having a lie down might be a good idea about now,” Monica says.

Mulder puts his arm around Katherine and moves her to the bed. He helps her to sit while Monica stacks the pillows up at the head of the bed.

“You’re the first husband I’ve had at a birth,” Monica says.

“I’m not leaving.”

“It’s fine by me if it’s fine by Katherine.”

“Don’t go,” Katherine whispers to him.

“I won’t,” he tells her.

“I need him here,” Katherine says to Monica.

“Whatever you need, you’ll have.” Monica nods and then she helps move Katherine up to the pillows and she tells her to shift down a bit and bring her knees up so she can check the baby’s progress.

The miraculous arrival of the twin fillies is the only birth that Mulder has attended in his life. He skimmed through one of Katherine’s textbooks on obstetrics to have an idea of what he might be in for, but he found it to be so terrifying he had to stop reading. It doesn’t seem possible, even though he knows it has to be.

He’s never seen his wife as scared as she’s been throughout this pregnancy. She’s been terrified of losing the baby and he understands her fears. Every night he’s gently caressed her growing belly and whispered to the baby how wonderful the world will be when he or she arrives. You’ll have your own cradle made especially for you by Luke Doggett. You’ll have your own horses to play with and one day I’ll buy you a pony with a little cart, would you like that? You’ll have all the picture books I can find and I’ll read to you every night. You’ll have the very best, most brave, most wonderful, most beautiful, most special, most loving, most fierce, most smartest Mama in all of the world. But, you just stay nice and cozy where you’re at for now. Stay until the time is right, okay?

Katherine grits her teeth and then comes up away from the pillows onto her hands and whimpers pathetically. Mulder looks at Monica who is nodding encouragingly and rubbing Katherine’s belly.

“When it grips you again like before, you go ahead and push,” Monica says. “Mulder, why don’t you give her a nice place to lean into to help.”

Mulder scoots closer so that Katherine can lean back into his chest. She’s breathing hard and there’s sweat beading across her hairline. He holds her hands and then her body grows stiff and she squeezes her eyes shut.

“Push, Katherine,” Monica says. “That’s it.”

Katherine groans and then she falls limp in Mulder’s arms. He feels the same helpless panic he felt when he was trying to help the horse drop her foal. He knows he’s utterly useless and he can’t stand to be. When Katherine’s body goes stiff again, he drops his head and starts to whisper the same things he whispered to Mary.

“You’re the only one that can do this,” he says. “But, you’re strong and you’re brave and I believe in you. You can do it.”

“Just a little more,” Monica says. “You’re doing great.”

“Almost,” Mulder whispers. “You can do it.”

Katherine lolls a little against Mulder’s chest and then she takes a deep breath and pushes again. Her face grows red with exertion and she cries out before she deflates. A different kind of shivery little cry fills the room. Monica laughs and begins toweling off the squalling infant as quickly as possible and then passes the little bundle into Katherine’s arms.

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a new little filly,” Mulder whispers.

Katherine starts crying and brings the baby up to kiss her head. She has little wispy blonde curls that Mulder runs his hand over. The baby looks at him and he swears one of her eyebrows lifts inquisitively just like her mother’s.

“Look at those blue eyes,” he says.

“All babies have blue eyes,” Katherine murmurs.

“This blue? They look like the ocean.”

“Well, what are you gonna call her?” Monica asks.

“I want to name her after Mulder’s aunt,” Katherine answers.

“Oh that’s sweet. What was your aunt’s name?”

“Hortense,” Mulder answers, and then laughs at the look on Monica’s face. “Emeline was her name. But, I think we agreed on Emily Eliza if it was a girl.”

Katherine nods.

“Hey…” Mulder eases out from behind Katherine. “What day is it?”

“I heard the clock in the hall chime at midnight a little while ago,” Monica answers. “September 9th, 1888. She’s a seven. She’s going to be very contemplative.”

“It’s two years to the day from when we first met,” Mulder says.

“Only two years?” Katherine wonders. “It feels as though we’ve been together forever.”

“Forever is ahead of us, not behind.” Mulder smiles as the baby yawns and reaches out to touch her tiny hand. She curls her fingers around his with a tight grip.

↭

The year before Emily was born they took a trip to Boston with a stop in New York City to see the electrical lightbulbs that Katherine had wanted to see. She was definitely impressed by the invention, but will always prefer the softness of lamplight to the glow of a bulb. Of all people, she will be the most reluctant to modernize their home while it’s Mulder that will marvel at the on and off switches that bring light and darkness and later, he will never get enough of the telephone, sometimes simply picking up the handset to chat with the switchboard operator in town just because he can.

Three years after Emily is born, William Abbott, known by all as Liam, will come along. By then, Emily’s blonde hair will have turned dark, like her father’s, but she’ll keep her deep blue eyes. Mulder will often turn and think he sees the ghost of his sister running towards him as she grows. Liam inherits his mother’s red hair and freckles, but his father’s hazel eyes and mischievous sense of humor that keeps everyone on their toes.

Doctor Black makes Katherine an offer that Mulder tells her she’d be crazy to refuse. He sponsors an apprenticeship for her in lieu of formal schooling and after five years time, she receives her medical certificate. When he retires, Katherine takes over the practice and the lady doctor that drives her own carriage through town becomes the pride of the town.

Emily will follow in her mother’s footsteps in some ways, her interest in science and medicine apparent from a very young age, but her love of animals pulls her in a different direction. She studies to become a veterinarian. When her husband is taken in World War I, she will come back to the ranch with her own young daughter in tow, seeking the peace and comfort of her childhood.

Liam takes a keen interest in literature and tears through all the books on his mother’s bookshelf before he’s eight years of age. His favorite thing to do is to listen to the stories his father tells, ones he can’t quite determine are real or exaggerated, but that are always about how brave and strong and magical his mother is.

“Kids,” Mulder will say as they sit on the porch. “Did I ever tell you about the time your mother shot a panther?”

“There aren’t any panthers in Texas, Daddy,” Emily will tell him.

“That’s because they got wind of your mother’s aim and they all packed up and moved to Mexico.”

“Mulder, you weren’t even there.” Katherine will roll her eyes when he starts his tales.

“I had gone to Fort Worth to pick up some horses and your mother stayed behind with Pappy Melvin…”

Liam will take these stories and write them down and turn them into Fawkes Publishing House’s number one bestselling children’s series of the 1920s called Amazing Kate, about a young girl living on a ranch in the Texas plains who can do anything and everything. He marries a suffragette he meets while tending to family business in Boston. One of their sons will pen a biography of his E. M. Abbott, sending shockwaves through the literary community and winning a Pulitzer.

When the children are small, Katherine will often wonder about her sister’s and where they are and if they’ve married and if they have children of their own. Mulder will offer time and time again to track them down, but ultimately, Katherine decides against it. She has made her own family here and Monica and Susannah are close enough to her to feel like the sisters she lost. Mary Katherine Scully was her past and she has put it behind her. She is and will forever now be Kate Mulder.

The ranch is only ever moderately successful and the need for trained horses dies out with the expansion of the railroad and the popularity of the automobile. It suits Mulder fine and they simply become a haven for abused and neglected animals.

Ranch hands come and go. Trevor discovers a talent for building furniture through Luke Doggett. Mulder sponsors their talents by starting them up with a business in Fort Worth where they form a successful partnership and their furniture is sold world-wide. Richard announces one day that he thinks it’s about time he moves on, and then he just disappears. Jesse and Jimmy are offered positions as lead trainers in a traveling rodeo that they hesitate to accept, but Mulder tells them they’d be crazy not to take the opportunity to travel the country. Melvin stays with them until he passes on and they bury him beneath the magnolia tree that in twenty years time, has reached an impressive height of forty feet and blooms pink at the start of every summer.

The years go by and Mulder and Katherine will be alone on their porch sometimes, sitting side by side watching the sunset. Mulder will reach out and Katherine will take his hand and he’ll give it a squeeze.

“Just think where we might have ended up if Faithful Jenny hadn’t thrown that shoe that day,” he’ll say to her, for maybe the hundredth time since they’ve been married. “The day that changed my life forever.”

Katherine will roll her eyes at him, also for the hundredth time. “Any number of things had already changed your life forever,” she’ll say.

“But, specifically, if Faithful Jenny hadn’t thrown that shoe…”

“And if you didn’t leave Massachusetts, and if your father hadn’t sent you to live with your aunt, and if your aunt never bought you that pony for your birthday…”

“So, you agree, A leads to B, leads to C, leads to Jenny throwing that shoe.”

“I think we’d still be right here on this porch. That’s what I think.”

“Kate, are you admitting you believe in fate?”

“I’m admitting nothing.”

Mulder will smile and squeeze her hand as she twists her wedding ring around her finger with her thumb.

The End

#i wrote this #broken things #chapter 24 #MSR #AU

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wastelandcth · 3 years

Text

Lay it On Me - cth

part of nation of two

summary: Petra stays up one night while Calum's away thinking back on all the happy moments she wishes she could relive. Meanwhile, Calum's dealing with the fear of loving someone after so long.

author’s notes: I hope you guys enjoyed chapter one of Nation of Two and that you enjoy a closer look into Calum and Petra’s little world!

warnings: Not much, just two lovestruck fools missing one another.

masterlist || request || previous part || next part

Sometimes, Petra’s life felt like it was something out of a cheesy romance novel, she felt herself craving to reread the pages that made her cheeks flush and heart race. The pages that had made up her life. She’d stay up at night when she was alone, staring up at the ceiling as she tried to relive the moments she’d treasured so much. She wasn't sure how long she'd been doing this, maybe she had done so her entire life trying to remember the little details of precious moments so they couldn't slip past her.

Most recently, those memories included Calum and his soft laugh.

If she closed her eyes and focused, Petra could almost live through the flower shop exchange. She could feel her heart race as she turned the corner into the vase aisle and was met with a familiar face of a stranger. Calum had been wearing a shirt she'd remembered seeing him wear at some show online, the soft white shirt lined with red fitting his arms and chest so snug it made her lose her breath. His hair was blonde and cut short, making his jaw seem soft and the perfect place for Petra to kiss. His tanned skin was smooth and the tattoos on his arms decorated him like a piece of art. If Petra really concentrated, she could still smell his cologne, the woodsy scent that seemed to be mixed in with something sweet. It wasn't too strong, but she had been close enough to Calum that she could smell it over all the flowers in the store.

When Petra opened her eyes again, the darkness of her room brought her back. The moonlight was filtering in through her window and gave a soft blue hue to everything. Her arms spread out at her side and she felt a pang in her heart as her left hand didn't bump into the warm body she'd gotten used to being there. Calum had been gone for almost a month now, leaving the side of his bed cold and empty. He'd been busy with work and Petra appreciated when he'd have the odd minute or two to call her so they could catch up, even if it had to be two in the morning and her sleep-filled brain could only come up with strange answers. Not that it mattered too much because before the conversations turned into anything meaningful, Calum was saying goodbye and promising to call when he could next.

But Petra still loved him. She loved Calum and the short phone calls, where the only thing that mattered was that he ended them with a quiet I love you and kissy noises. She loved the Calum who was living his dream every night out on a stage in front of thousands of people. The Calum who at the end of every show would snap a picture and sent it to Petra with another cheesy pickup line or a joke he'd heard that day. Petra was in love with the Calum who would call her in a rush and babbled out some story where his brain worked faster than his mouth and his giggles warmed Petra's heart from halfway across the world. Even in the darker days, when they both craved to feel the touch of the other and their usual happy interactions were clouded over with a pang of sadness. Petra knew it would all be worth it when she was in the arms of her lover in a week's time.

"Can't sleep?" Calum's groggy voice rang out into the darkness of the room.

"I got too used to having you sleep next to me, jerk," Petra laughed, her eyes falling back onto the small screen next to her head, "You're seriously not gonna let me see your new haircut yet? I'll see it all over the internet by lunchtime tomorrow, you know that?"

"Yeah, you might," Calum laughed, "It's a surprise though! You love surprises,"

"I also love running my hands through your curls," she snorted and shook her head, "I just miss your cute face."

"I miss your cute face too," Calum chuckled, letting out a sigh as Luke called his name out from outside the tour bus, "I've got to go, but I'll talk to you soon, okay? Try and get some sleep, darling."

And with that, Petra was thrown back into the silence of her dark room. The sun would be up in a few hours and that would mean she definitely wasn't getting any sleep so she closed her eyes and begged her brain to let her drift off. Eventually, her breathing evened out and the pillow she'd been using as a replacement for Calum lulled her into sleep.

Arpeggiated chords rang out from the room next to the entrance where Petra had been standing, the chill from outside hitting the back of her neck as she pushed the door closed with her foot. The house was warm and Petra could smell the soup that was brewing in the kitchen but her legs lead her towards the soft music that was playing in the living room. In the corner of the room, near the big windows that show the snowy landscape that Petra had been out exploring just a few minutes earlier, Calum was sat by the piano. His eyes were focused on the keys in front of him, his fingers working over them as if he'd played the piano his whole life. With every note he played, Petra felt herself drawing closer and closer to him, her hands landing on the softness of his shoulders with a soft squeeze.

"How was your walk?" Calum asked, the soft music coming to a stop that left the house feeling empty and Calum was glad Petra's hands were on him, the shiver he'd felt earlier replaced with her warmth.

"It was nice," Petra mumbled, her hands massaging his shoulders and working Calum as he'd worked the keys a few seconds ago, "I like it here."

"I do too," Calum mumbled and leaned back against her touch, "I like being here with just you and the snow and the piano."

"It's nice," she agreed, her eyes looking out the window as the snowfall began again, "Complete opposite of our beach dates,"

"We can just stay in and watch the snow, eat some delicious soup," he mumbled and hit a few more notes on the piano before standing up to wrap his arms around Petra, "Maybe watch a movie or read a book."

"That sounds lovely, we can keep warm by the fire and hope that no bears find this place too cozy and try to break in," Petra laughed.

In the haziness of her sleep and the sunlight hitting her face, Petra could still hear the warmth in Calum's voice when he'd read to her that night next to the fireplace. She could still feel the way his arms were wrapped around her as he read about the highlands of Scotland. How his voice felt like a warm blanket and how the grassy hills of the Scottish countryside filled Petra with the urge to explore them with Calum. As the memory of her dreams slowly faded and the sunlight warmed her face, Petra found herself alone in bed, wishing she could hear Calum's soft voice and his best try at a Scottish accent.

Calum had been staring out the window of the tour bus for hours, watching as the landscapes changes from desert mountains to a lush forest with trees that went back as far as his eyes could see. He'd been sitting in the backroom for so long the sun had gone down and the stars were twinkling above him, the room now dark and the bus silent as his bandmates slept the night away. Calum usually never had trouble sleeping on the bus, he was usually exhausted from the busy days tour had him working. But ever since the start of this tour, where he'd left Petra behind for a few months while he left to promote the latest album the band had released, he'd had trouble sleeping.

The silence on the bus hadn't helped either, it had made Calum's thoughts louder and even the movie playing quietly in the back room hadn't stopped his thoughts from running faster than the cars that sped past them in the night. Calum was exhausted, how could he not be when the band had done back-to-back shows for the past week paired up with endless interviews during the day. The only time the band had a real break was during the drives between stops and even then, it was only a few hours spent sleeping or reviewing what that next week would look like for them as a band.

Calum had noticed how tired he looked. He saw it every morning when he washed his face in the tiny bathroom, how his eyes were puffy and the darkness under them gave away just how exhausted he was. He saw it when the label sent them promo clips to approve and his smile didn't reach his eyes. He saw it when the other guys laughed and joked around with one another while he stood off to the side, quiet and yearning for a nap. He was pretty sure that if he could see how tired he was, the rest of the world could see just how far gone he was. And that meant that Petra could see how tired he was.

Fuck, Calum missed Petra. She had been such a constant source of Calum's happiness in the months leading up to this promo tour that Calum hadn't realized how much he'd miss having her around. Petra's name meant rock, something Calum found ironic since she was the one who was always grounding him, and in many ways, Petra was his rock. She was the one that Calum found himself drifting towards when he needed to feel more like himself again. She was the one who would always hold his hand when he needed it and would listen to Calum's mumbling whenever he'd decided to let his brain talk. She was his rock and Calum missed the hell out of her.

He'd been trying to write more while on tour, figuring he might as well put his insomnia to use. His old journal had been used up and Calum had been regretting having to buy another one. That was until Petra had shown up with a going-away present, the brown paper bag she'd been holding was decorated with flowers and hearts. At first, Calum had been confused, because he didn't know going away presents were a thing and he hadn't gotten Petra anything. But after she'd kissed his cheek and told him it was nothing serious, Calum's nerves settled and he opened the bag to find a leather journal, much like his old one, with his initials stamped on the side of the binding.

"So you can keep writing those pretty songs," Petra had mumbled, her cheeks flushed as she played with the bracelet that Calum had given her a few weeks back, "Or just to keep your mind off of things."

Calum had been writing in the journal every chance he got, the unlined pages filling with song ideas and little doodles that Calum found helpful. He'd write about his day sometimes, whenever something memorable happened that he wanted to remember in order to tell Petra or his mom later on. He even sometimes sketched what he saw out the window of the tour bus, although those were never really any good. It wasn't until that night that Calum had been lost in the landscape that he noticed a page near the back of the book had been folded. It was only on the top corner, a fold so small Calum had wondered if he'd done it himself on accident and it wasn't until he turned to the page that he realized what had happened. The page, which had been filled with doodles and handwriting that wasn't Calum's, warmed his heart and made him smile for the first time in weeks. His fingertips traced over the words, almost as if he could feel Petra's touch through them, almost as if he could see her writing in the middle of the night much like Calum did nowadays.

"I know you might be tired and stressed. That you might miss home and Duke and everything that brings you warmth. But your dreams will always be important to not only you but those who you make come true as well. I don't know when you'll read this or if you'll even find it while you're away but I hope it brings a smile to your face. The world deserves to see that pretty smile you reserve for only special moments. They deserve to hear your thoughts and that laugh that makes my heart race. I hope you don't mind that I stole one page from your notebook, it seemed like a fitting gift to give you, better than a piece of paper in your coat.

Thank you for letting me into your world and letting me find your love. I'll forever be grateful.

I love you to the end of the universe and even further.

Petra."

Calum's smile, the one he'd reserved for Petra apparently, hurt his cheeks. He'd reread the note over and over, soaking in her words and if he closed his eyes and tried hard enough, he could almost hear her saying them to him herself. The promo tour might long and lonely, but that didn't mean that Calum hadn't had a piece of home with him the entire time. With a deep breath and his blanket wrapped around his shoulders, Calum walked back to his bunk. The journal was tucked under his pillow as if Petra herself had been captured between the pages and Calum could just open it and see her again whenever he felt alone.

Calum's eyes felt tired and the more he relaxed on the bunk, the more he realized just how much his life had changed since finding Petra. He'd never had to deal with leaving a loved one while touring. He never had to deal with the time zones fucking up his calls or having to wait hours for a text back from someone because they were asleep as he was waking up. He never had to worry about whether his partner was missing him and much as he missed them. But then he met Petra and that all changed. Leaving her bed that morning had been hell, he'd dragged himself out of the apartment, trying not to convince himself to turn around as he hit traffic on the highway and go back to the warmth of her bedroom. He'd closed his eyes and held her a little longer as he'd said goodbye to her by the kitchen that morning and it was all so new and different that Calum hadn't expected to have it hit him so roughly.

He hadn't expected to push all his defenses down and become so vulnerable for someone before. So when his plane had taken off and the city had become a blur of streets and then hidden beneath clouds, Calum wanted nothing more than to be back with Petra. But he had her note, safe in the journal with his initials and the page smelled like her perfume so maybe it'd be okay. Maybe Calum would smile a little brighter during the meet and greets and he'd chuckle a little louder during the interviews and make sure he spoke his mind a little more often. Even as his eyes squinted at the dim screen in front of him, his fingers typing out a message to the love of his life, he couldn't believe how lucky he was to have Petra in his life. With his phone set next to him and his heart happy, Calum's eyes closed and for the first time in weeks, he got some well-deserved sleep.

Petra woke up a few hours later, alone once again, but her heart warmed at the sight of the notification on her screen. She knew that Calum had been having a rough time on tour recently and she was hoping that he'd find her letter soon. The message she'd hidden in the middle of a journal he'd held so close to him ever since it became his. Even the chilly air that was coming in from the window Petra had left open couldn't stop the warmth that she felt inside her, knowing that Calum had gotten her message. He was always laying down his love for her, showing it in different ways like how he held her closer whenever he was near or how he'd tell her all about his day even when the rest of the world thought of him as a silent man. Petra knew that it wasn't true, that the Calum she knew and loved would talk off her ear if given the chance, which she often did give him.

She knew that he would have a hard time being away, he was a homebody and he'd be gone for a while, so with shaky hands and a heart full of love, she'd written down the words she'd so rarely had the courage to utter to him, the words she held so close to herself in fear that he'd slip away. But Calum was always surprising her and it hadn't been too much of a shock to know he appreciated the message. Calum's love was always finding her, even when the bed was lonely and he was miles away. She'd been staring at the message for while, her fingers ghosting over her screen as her heart raced and her smile widened with every reread of it.

She'd reply eventually, once her cheeks stopped blushing and her smile stopped making her jaw hurt. But for now, the early morning sun lulled her back to sleep and her eyes closed slowly. She hoped that she'd dreamed about the snowy cabin and the hills of Scotland again, but really, any dream with Calum in it would be worthwhile.

"Thank you for the beautiful words, you've always known exactly what to say when I need it the most. I love you forever, rock."

taglist: @hoodhoran @finelliine @moonlightcriess @dinosaursandsocks @mxgyver @calpops @karajaynetoday @notlukehemmo @calumrose @devilatmydoor @lyss-xo @lowkeyflop @notinthesameguey @hemmo1996-5sosvevo @ashtonsunflower @2fangirl4u @multistann @himbohood @in-superbloom @suchalonelysunflower @killmywildflower @sebsbrokentoe

#calum hood x reader #calum hood x oc #calum hood blurbs #calum hood imagines #calum hood fics #5sos x reader #5sos x oc #5sos blurbs #5sos imagines #5sos fics #calum hood #5sos #5 seconds of summer #gemma writes #nation of two ch #5sos oneshots

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the-silentium · 3 years

Text

Murphy day

Masterlist - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

Pairing: Bad Batch x Reader

Words: 3726 words

Warnings: Nothing really.

A/N: This is pure madness! @shadow-hyder this is your fault! Also, this will be a 3 part story so stay tuned for what'll happen next!

Fors is an Original planet. I do not give permission to people to use it for their own fics, the planet, the animals, the Nightmares, the lore or anything related to Fors. Thank you.

Right now, you didn’t know why you ever thought that getting out today was a bad idea. Sure, it was kinda against the rules and there was a long list of reasons as to why it was against the rules, but seeing the two armored clones dangling upside down meters above the ground, their limbs entangled in the thick lianas, their whines reaching your ears, you quickly forgot all the consequences that were waiting for you if you got caught. This was worth any forced work and fine thrown at you.

You stood there, a hand over your mouth to keep yourself from exploding into a fit of laughter, hidden on a large tree branch above the two soldiers. You listened to them insulting the foliage and thrashing around like it would change something. Clearly, they’ve never come to your planet before, or else they would know that the more they moved the lianas would squeeze them tighter into their grips.

Despite your amusement at their expense, you kept an eye out for any predator lurking around. It would definitely darken your day if they were to be attacked. But then again, Murphy day spared no one. Your hand wrapped around your hunting knife, its carved wooden handle reassuring you that you weren’t defenseless and that luck was on your side.

You ducked under an enormous leaf when you registered a movement in the corner of your eye, but not before making sure that it wasn’t a loth wolf or something more unfriendly. It definitely wasn’t a loth wolf, but you weren’t sure if they were friendly. One of the two new clones was way too big for your liking and the custom paint of his helmet didn’t put you in confidence, as opposed to the one with the glasses.

“Sorry for the wait Sarge!” A booming voice almost made you jump and lose your balance on the branch. “We got lost for a bit there!”

“At least you made it. Now get us out of here. Being upside down is giving me a headache and I can't concentrate.” The trooper with the half black, half white helmet answered, wriggling around to try and see the newcomers. “Those things can’t be cut.”

You smiled to yourself, the voice of your dad echoing in your mind. A sharp knife will not always help you. But a sharp mind will. And so, you chuckled silently to yourself, before sitting on the branch, your back to the trunk and head tilting to the side so you could keep sight on the bunch of soldiers.

One of them walked forward while typing on something on his wrist rapidly, the bigger one following suit.

“Tech, how do we get them down?”

“Genlisea filiformis is a carnivorous plant-”

“A what?!” The second one that dropped the sniper rifle earlier yelled. You rolled your eyes at his panic.

“A carnivorous plant, Crosshair. Now stop moving. The lianas will continue tightening every time you move.” His head moved slightly from side to side, seemingly reading. “Oh, this is interesting. They eat their prey by dissolving the flesh with an acid oozing from the lianas. Now, you guys should be okay with your composite armor. Don’t worry.”

You snorted, a bit too loudly. Your hands flew to your mouth, whilst the rest of your body froze in fear that someone heard. Against all odds, you were still off the radar, your sound escaping them completely under Sarge's grunts of pain and the insults of the slim guy who you assumed was Crosshair.

“All we have to do is to find the head of the plant. The weak point of the lianas is at the base of the head, where the lianas start.”

As he finished his sentence, you pushed the leaf covering you aside so you could be at the front row of their realization. This was going to be gold.

“Hear that Sarge? We just need t-” His voice stopped as soon as he tried to take a step forward, his feet stuck under 15 cm of the stickiest artificial resin found on this planet.

Just to make it better, his companion spotted the head of the plant and with all his determination behind his step, he tried to lift his foot, only to lose balance when it didn't move an inch and fell on his hands in the resin.

That's when your laughter erupted, loud enough to cover the whines of the smallest soldier, bouncing between the trees and stopping each Bad Batcher's heart in surprise. Tears quickly gathered in your eyes, almost making you fall off your safe spot when you lifted your hand to wipe away the droplets.

"You! Get down here!" Sarge barked, causing you to chuckle as your laughter died down.

"Are your panties in a twist, Sarge? Did one of the lianas get in there?" You sassed, putting your knife back in the side pocket of your boot and carefully jumping down your branch to another one below.

You made your way towards them, moving from tree to tree, avoiding any liana that was courageous enough to grow that far away from its roots and stopped just where the branches ended and the mess of lianas started.

"Hey there!" You smirked, waving innocently at the upside down trooper two meters away from you.

"Get us down." Growled Crosshair.

"Oh sure. I love helping people who are as abrasive as sandpaper." You tilted your head to the side, putting on your best innocent expression.

Once again, he trashed around, surely trying to get a hand free so he could grab… something? You were too far off his reach so he couldn't possibly want to grab you. Maybe a blaster? Unfortunately for him, you saw them fall on the ground earlier.

"Listen. I-" His grunt of pain made you frown in concern. Your father always told you that you were way too empathetic for this big bad world. "We need help. Please." He sounded out of breath and it was more than you needed to get working.

With a nod, you walked the length of your perch, jumped in another tree, climbed down to the jungle floor and avoided every puddle of resin the kids of the village had dropped around to prank passers by.

"She's good." The booming voice surprised you again.

"She's native and knows what she's doing." You said, putting on your gloves and reaching for your knife. "Ready?"

The two suspended clones grunted in approval.

You made sure they wouldn't fall head first in the resin and with a few quick motions, you slashed the head off the rest of its body, sticky pale green juices oozed from the cuts and created a small film of smoke where it touched the blade.

Two yelps reached your ears, but you couldn't care much, instead you jumped to the nearest patch of grass where you removed most of the acid from the smoking blade.

"Are you alright?" At the question, you turned to assess if one of them broke their neck in the fall. For once, luck seemed to be on their side as they were both seating on their ass, helmets off massaging their heads where you were sure they could feel their heartbeat.

"'m fine Tech." Sarge answered. He looked worse than his sniper friend, who glared at you when he felt your eyes on him.

"You trapped us." He accused, getting on his feet to make his way towards you.

"What? No!" Jumping backward to avoid his hand, you tumbled to the ground but quickly rolled over to get back on your two feet. "Don't touch me!" You yelled, still avoiding his attempts at grabbing you. You didn't want to threaten him with a knife because you were sure to lose and he would touch you, but your mind did think about it.

"Crosshair." Sarge barked, calling back his sandpaper soldier.

If possible, the grey haired clone's glare intensified, burning a hole into your head, freezing you in place. Damn was he scary. You almost regretted cutting the lianas.

"Won't hurt you." He muttered, still glaring.

"Says you." You circled around him so you could go back to the rest of the clones, more importantly closer to Sarge who seemed more reasonable. You positionned yourself behind him, you know, just to be sure.

"Can you get them out too?" Sarge asked you over his shoulder, giving you a perfect view of his tattoo. You were impressed. Never did you think that a facial tattoo could look so good on someone. Seemed like you were wrong. So so very wrong.

You nodded. "On one condition."

Frowning, he turned around to face you completely.

"What?"

I wanna touch your tattoo.

"No one touches me." His eyebrow shot up in an inquisitive manner and oh damn you wanted to touch the dark ink.

"We won't hurt you." He reiterated Crosshair's words. You shook your head.

"Not like that. I don't want your bad luck on me. Because clearly, you guys" You gestured around them with your both hands. "emanate bad luck." Your hands fall to your side. "The baddest bad luck I've seen in my life."

"We don't have bad luck! We are lucky! We have a 100% success rate!" Bigger guy in the resin barked before laughing.

"100% success rate eh? That's bad luck." You took a step back for your sake. Too much success always bite you in the arse one day. Looked like their elastic broke today. Lucky them.

"You know that superstitions are not true, right? It's irrational." Smaller dude who removed his gloves to stand told you. Tech, if you heard right.

Wait. What?

"Do you guys know what planet you're on?" You were baffled by the lack of knowledge they had on your planet. For sure, you would have thought that they would get as much information on a planet before getting there and running around?

"Fors. A jungle planet of the Outer Rim. Rich in resources but not exploited because of the thick and dangerous flora."

You nodded. "So you should know that here, what you all call superstitions are the real deal, right?" Your eyes found Sarge's brown one and you sigh at the lack of recognition. "Ok. If I were you, I'd get away from Fors real' quickly. You're all wearing black which represents death and your perfect success rate very probably attracted the curse of evil eye on y'all. Plus, we are today."

You walked to a nearby tree, crouched to search the ground around its roots for a particular cavity.

"What's wrong with today?" Sarge finally got on his feet, fetching his fallen blaster in a bush.

"Today's Murphy day. The 13th day of the month. Usually there's a good balance between luck and bad luck. But today, it's only bad luck. Laws forbid anyone on the planet to get out of their home for the whole day to prevent accidents and other stuff."

After your third tree, you found the hole you were looking for. Without a thought, you stuck your hand in the hole, searching around for the container the kids always leave near the traps.

"So you're breaking the law." Crosshair pointed out, to your exasperation.

"Exactly. But I don't intend to get caught so I should be fine." You huffed. "Thank you."

"You don't seem affected by bad luck." Tech quirked.

"Knock on wood!" You said while knocking the trunk of the tree you were searching.

Your hand found the bottle and pulled it out with a victory cry, the dark blue liquid shining in the sun like the night sky illuminated by its stars. You grinned, shaking the bottle.

"Now, do we have a deal? Keep your hands to yourselves and I free the two remaining dudes from the kids' trap."

With his hands slightly in the hair, Sarge nodded. "We won't touch you. Go ahead."

"Okay! Let's do this." Taking a deep breath, you opened the lid and dropped half the bottle at the big one's feet, the other half on Tech’s.

The resin started dissolving on itself at the liquid's contact, freeing the troopers in under a minute. You backed off so they had room to join the rest of their squad. At a good distance, you allowed yourself to breathe again.

"Thanks miss! I'm Wrecker." The biggest guy lifted his helmet a bit so he could wear it as a hat, a smile almost splitting his face in half. You immediately noted the scar on the side of his face as well as the cybernetic eye, but something inside your mind told you he wasn't as bad as you initially thought. He seemed too childish to be bad.

"Nice to meet you Wrecker. The name's Y/N." You waved with a smile of your own.

"I'm Tech." He removed his helmet, a smile of his own curving his lips. The name definitely suited him to a T. You waved back.

"Sarge and Crosshair, right?" You asked, pointing to the remaining ones.

"Sergent Hunter." He corrected as the other merely grunted in response. "Thank you for helping us." It wasn't a complete smile, but the corners of his lips perked up so you'll take it.

"You're all very much welcome. I hope you all get back safely to your ship!" You put back your knife in its pocket and turned around to climb back into the tree next to you. You jumped to the closest thick branch, used your strong arms to pull you up on it and stand without much of a problem. You climbed a bit more until you found a branch big enough to walk its length.

"Have a nice Murphy day and good lu-" The words died in your throat, instead morphing into a surprised yelp when your foot didn’t quite go where you wanted it to and caught in a tiny branch that totally refused to break, interfering with your balance. Your hands flew to your face to protect yourself from the smaller branches and leaves scratching at your skin, a quick peek informed you that the ground was coming way too quickly for your liking, your eyes closed in anticipation of the inevitable face plant impact.

The pain wasn’t quite as you imagined, instead of hurting your front, hands, face and very possibly your spine, strong arms caught you in the air, the abrupt stop causing you to hit your chin onto a hard piece of armor, clattering your teeth together in the process. Thank the Maker, you didn’t bite your tongue off.

Confused, hurt and out of breath, you tried to comprehend what happened by looking around at the best of your capacity, being trapped between two arms as large as trunks. Concerned mismatched eyes met yours, seconds before the ground finally touched your feet delicately. Your eyes went wide as soon as your brain finally registered what happened and who cushioned your fall, panic making you push the large chest away from you so suddenly that you fell on your behind in a patch of tall grass. Wrecker tried to catch you in your fall again, missing your arm from an inch.

“You okay?” He retracted his arms and stood tall again, Tech and Hunter approaching behind him, concern written all over their faces.

“Yeah”. You sighed, letting your head roll backwards. Shooking your head, you watched the treetops, all the leaves and mazes of branches, the rare brave birds still watching you from above. Maybe they had the answer as to how you could survive this day. “Thanks for catching me Wrecker.” One of your hands massaged your aching chin.

“No problem Y/N!” His smile came back as soon as he was certain that you were fine, although it was short lived because you soon let yourself fall onto your back in defeat.

“This day starts so badly.” You muttered. You remember leaving your home at 6, early enough that a very few people were awake, but late enough so you could use the first rays of the sun to guide yourself. “I should’ve stayed home.” You snorted. “I’ll probably die from something very stupid.”

“Well, if you hadn’t come out today, we would still be trapped, so the least we could do is help you survive the day. How does that sound?” Hunter’s gravelly voice almost made you shiver.

You shot back up, immediately extending a hand toward the Sergeant from your seated position. “Very fair. Deal.”

With a nod, he grabbed your hand and pulled you up to your feet. Maybe he was used to pulling up his brothers or he simply miscalculated, but the amount of force behind his pull was unnecessary, propelling you right into his armored chest where you hit your face.

You yelped in pain, hands reaching for your nose in a hurry. No blood. No broken bone. You sighed in relief.

“Sorry for that.” He seemed so confused it was almost hilarious. You definitely would have laughed if only your nose wasn’t ready to explode.

“It’s fine. ‘s not your fault. It’s today! You lose control of yourself a little and end up creating accidents all around you.” With a last check up that your nose wasn’t bleeding, you took a step aside to create a bit of space between you and the rest of them. “So, where’s your ship?”

“Latitude 45.400972. Longitude -75.79851.” Tech answered while typing on the screen on his wrist.

You were deeply confused despite having completed all mandatory classes in your village school. He was speaking a whole different language, you were sure of it. Did clones have a language? They were the first ones you ever encountered, not a lot of people liked to venture out into the Outer Rim where the planets weren’t very significant to anyone. Now that you thought about it, you’d love to see a battle on Murphy day. You were sure it would be catastrophingly funny to watch. Minus the fact that people would really die. Okay. Not so fun after all.

“About an hour of walk this way.” Tech clarified, his eyes scanning your too deeply thinking face.

“Okay!” You turned in the direction he pointed and started walking, jumping over the resin puddles. "You made it this far, I'm sure we can all make it back there without dying on the way!" You said, crossing your fingers.

"Stop talking." Crosshair growled beneath his helmet.

Duly noted. At the rhythm the day was going, you knew he'd regret his comment at some point. All you had to do was wait. So with the fakest smile you've ever had to use on your face, you turned around quickly and mimed to zip your lips before turning back around to watch your steps.

Maybe it was a bad idea to follow them. You didn't know them until 10 minutes ago, they were four trained soldiers with blasters and military training, three seemed friendly enough and the last one was as cuddly as a porcupine. On your end, all you had to rely on was your excellent knowledge of the environment, your hunting knife and your precious tap.

You tapped your pants pocket to ensure that it was still in your possession when quick steps alerted you of a clone keeping you company.

"Don't listen to him. I'd love to know why luck has that much importance on this planet." Tech joined you at the front, helmet back on his head. "If you don't mind." He added when he met your questioning gaze.

"People really don't know much about us, do they?"

You didn't blame them though. Who would want to venture on a planet where you didn't have the power over yourself, but something as volatile as luck did?

"I'm afraid there aren't much more information on Fors other than datas about the minerals that can be found in underground caves."

"I'm not surprised." You scoffed. Your planet was extremely rich in precious minerals that the republic and the separatists would love to have to help found their war expenses, if it wasn't of the dangers passing as defenceless flora, adorable killing creatures and bewitching deadly smells.

"Okay. Where to start…" You taped your chin, disentangling the different events and remembering your history classes. "You see, Fors is alive, like any other planet, but the difference is that it feeds on beliefs. It eh… apparently it's a field cast a very long time ago that enveloppe the planet and would cause all the luck, bad luck stuff."

Your hand shot up to push back against Tech's chest just as he was about to step in a prank trap, falling in with him anyway when he tripped on his own feet. With a yelp, your other hand flew out, wrapping tightly around the first thing available, meaning nothing.

Fortunately for you, Tech fell first into the phosphorescent mixture, saving your front from a disastrous quantity of disgusting liquids to come in contact with your body. You got away with only your pants in the mixture, so all in all, this was a good outcome. Although, with a silent gag, you hurriedly pushed yourself off the completely covered clone, away from the nasty smell and the oily prank.

"What is in that? And why is there so many traps here!?" Tech yelped indignantly once he was on his feet, removing the most of the pale yellow thing out of his glasses.

"Believe me, you really don't want to know what's in there. And for your second question, the kids love to trap strangers!" You pulled on a big leaf behind Hunter who dodged out of your way so you could remove a layer of the substance from your pants.

"What's in that?" Whispered Hunter once he moved to your side, slightly bending to be closer to your ear. Wrecker's roaring laugh drowning his smaller brother's curses.

"Phosphorescent bird poo mixed with loth wolf puke." You snickered. Poor Tech. It would have been much more hilarious would it have been the glaring tooth prick who fell in the trap. On the bright side, predators should stay away from your little group now.

"R.I.P." You finally exploded in laughter.

This was going to be the best yet the worst day of your life!

#bad batch x reader #crosshair x reader #tech x reader #wrecker x reader #hunter x reader #star wars #clone wars #this is going to be a hell of a ride #murphy day

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passable-talent · 3 years

Note

i see z nation in your fandoms... 👁 could i possibly request a 10k x reader in which the reader and 10k have a heart to heart about something or in general have a soft moment? thank you... 💕

thank you @dreepiez, the best ever, for the lovely ask 💕, and for being my best friend and knowing exactly what i felt like writing today. I’m so soft for this boy its not even FUNNY.

Eight months since the world had ended, roughly. All things considered, you’re in a pretty good place- definitely a better one than you’d been in on Day One.

On Day One, you were absolutely alone in the middle of a national park near your home. You hadn’t known that the god damn zombie apocalypse was about to happen, so you were taking a walk- which wasn’t so unusual for little fifteen year old you.

You’d been ambushed and chased by Z’s, and managed not to die, but walked away with an extremely broken ankle.

And, that day, you’d met 10k.

He was leaving the area late at night when he happened across you, in the truck he couldn’t quite drive. Well, an ally with a broken ankle is better than none at all when facing the zombie apocalypse.

In the months following, you’d stuck together, becoming strong allies and close friends. You’d trust him with your life, and he you. You were the only person, in fact, who knew his real name. In the eight months since his father died, he hadn’t told a single other soul.

You weren’t like anyone else. You were there since Day One, you’d never left his side. Even when the two of you were found by a survival group, you stuck together. It was the two of you against the world- no matter how many others offered help, neither of you would ever let your guard down far enough to be without the other. Or, rather, neither of you would ever let your guard down far enough to leave the other alone.

You hated to admit it, but 10k was the only person that mattered to you. In the darkest of nights, when you laid in a bed that wasn’t yours and stared up at a ceiling so far from the home you’d grown up in, when you wondered if survival was worth it, thoughts of 10k would pull you through. No matter what you had to live through, you could never imagine leaving him alone. You’d stay alive, for him, for as long as you needed to.

Maybe it was a little sad. You’d only known him for eight months, you really had nothing keeping you friends other than necessity; it’s not exactly like the two of you went to movies together. Still, he was the most important person in your life- the only important person.

Your parents were gone, you didn’t know where. Your friends, from school, you didn’t even think about checking up on them before skipping town with 10k. There was no one left for you, other than him.

Still, you knew that no matter who you met, you’d always come back to him. It wasn’t like you didn’t get along- he was funny, and kind, and loyal, and, uh..

Well. You’re a teenager. And he looks like that.

You’d never act on it, even though you know he feels the same. Every time he looked at you, chose to eat sitting next to you, wished you goodnight before passing out on a couch, you knew he felt the same. After all, he was a teenager too. He was easy to read.

It was unspoken, really, how much you cared for each other. Neither of you would never dare to bring it up, no matter how much you felt it. Instead, you just showed it, checking up on each other, keeping each other safe. You rarely even talked- with each other, that is. It was a silent companionship, affection obvious through the way you always sat beside each other, even when there was no reason to.

It confused a lot of people at this safe camp, especially when you first arrived. Why are they always together, people would say amongst themselves, when they don’t even seem to like each other?

Little did they know that all of your time alone together was worth far more than the time you spent together in the presence of others.

Camp New World, as it was called among its survivors, was as safe a place as one could ask for. It was situated on the top of a mountain, right at its peak. In the time before day one, it had been owned by a single family, who built three homes on its peak as the generations passed. There was only one road up to the top, which made security from humans quite simple, and there were straight drop cliffs on all sides except for the road, which made security from Z’s easy enough. It was safe, and had been since the day it was made into a safe haven.

Thanks to its position on the mountaintop, Camp New World had some spectacular views. And thanks to your age, you and 10k were very rarely sent on missions outside of camp, such things being given to adults rather than the two of you.

And you did love going on adventures, you always had. The word had been well-soured by this eight month long, horrifying adventure, but sometimes you felt just a bit of that love when you sat back from the edge of the cliff and looked out across the valley. You could see to long-away mountains, turning blue with the horizon, and you could see roads crossing the fields that were once bustling highways. Looking out across a world that didn’t seem so much different than how it had been when you were fifteen, you always had just a little bit more to talk about. And with 10k sitting next to you, you always had someone to talk to.

You glanced over your shoulder, making sure no one else was nearby the two of you.

“It almost looks the way it used to,” you said, fixing your eyes on the silhouette of a town that must be miles away.

“What do you mean?” 10k asked, turning his head slightly toward you, but not looking right at you.

“All of it, out there,” you said, leaning back just a bit onto your hands. “If I didn’t know better, I wouldn’t know anything was different. The homes are in ruins and the towns deserted and the people scared, but from up here...” you trailed off, giving a light shrug. “You can’t tell.”

“But you do know better,” 10k said, and this made you look at him. He looked the way he often did- pulled away, reserved. But you knew him better than anyone wandering the earth, dead or otherwise.

He was comfortable. He was at least happy to be sitting with you instead of splitting wood, as they often asked him to do. He was interested in what you were saying, even if what he brought to the conversation was a little bit of cynicism.

You looked back across the world, lifting your chin.

“Yeah,” you said, “I do.” Another few minutes passed in silence between the two of you, being serenaded by the October air rattling through the trees that had begun to lose their leaves, and the sound of the raging river far below that was responsible for the steep-cliffed mountain.

“Still,” you said, “It’s peaceful. I’d be much more scared if I stood down there than I am sitting here.”

“I’d rather you be here than down there,” he said, choking on his words just after they’d left his mouth. You came to his rescue as best as you could.

“Well, last time I was down there, I had a broken ankle. I don’t want to be doing that again, either.”

All too used to it you were, reeling him back from the conversation that neither of you wanted to have. You had to assume that if the situation was different, he’d be a romantic- the way he gave you an extra blanket or let you borrow his jacket made you sure of it. So sometimes, when you were alone, little things would slip out from between his lips, little things that told you just how much he cared for you.

But caring for someone in this world was dangerous. You both knew it- he, who had had to mercy his own father, and you, who hadn’t seen your parents since the day it began. It was a lesson that held onto the two of you like burrs, hooking and holding deeper every time you tried to pull it away.

Even though the two of you cared for each other, would die for each other, that little stinging burr kept the two of you from saying it out loud. If it was said out loud, it was real, and that reality would be much more dangerous.

So you always deflected the attention away from his little confessions. Not maliciously, not to push him away, but to protect you both. It was the least you could do. After all- he’d saved your life, all those months ago.

You’d returned the favor, of course, a few times. The first being when he drove you back to your home to find your parents, and instead found a Z with its arm stuck to the front door.

The door was still locked, there was no forced entry, other than this Z on the outside of the front door. But your parents were just... gone. And there was nothing to suggest where they went.

You scooted a little closer to Tommy, trying to get refuge from the wind.

“Hey, Tommy,” you began, eyes cast over the edge of the cliff and to the riverbanks far below. “Do you ever think about what would’ve happened if we’d found my parents?”

He knew how much it stung that you didn’t know what had happened to them. He knew how much it had hurt you to leave your home town and travel to Camp New World, leaving behind the one place you might find them. But you’d been injured, and young, and vulnerable, and you’d had no choice. He knew that it was a particular crack in your heart that was still raw, and likely would be for a long time.

So he put his arm around you, letting you rest your head on his shoulder.

He still smelled like the cigarette he’d swiped from one of the men around the camp earlier in the day. At one time, you hated the smell of tobacco. Now, it just reminded you of him.

“No,” he said, “I don’t think about things like that.” His first finger drew little shapes on your furthest shoulder, and you let out a breath. “But I guess I would be a little happier if you didn’t have their loss on your shoulders.”

That one, you’d let him get away with.

The sun was near setting, the first brushstrokes of orange and yellow beginning to touch the western horizon. The sunsets from Camp New World were almost always spectacular, thanks to the wide expanse of horizon that one could view.

But you turned your head, laying your cheek on his shoulder, closing your eyes. This was the most you ever let your guard down; when you were alone with him, and the world was safe enough, for the moment.

“I hope they’re dead,” you breathed out, and you felt his arm tighten around you. “So they don’t worry about me the way I worry about them. Is that bad?”

Slowly, carefully, you felt Tommy lower his head down, resting his temple onto you.

“No, I don’t think so,” he said, and you pulled one knee closer to you. “And even if it is, I still can’t blame you.” You let out a heavy breath, leaning further into him.

If it hadn’t been for the zombie apocalypse, you never would have met him. And maybe you wouldn’t choose him over putting the world back to the way it was, but you’d definitely think hard about the decision. He was a bright side to the blackness that the world had become, the only person who kept you alive, who gave you a reason to stay alive.

In moments like this, in which you sat with him, felt his fingertips run over your arm; in moments like this, all of the pain, the death, the mercy, all of it- it almost felt worth it.

-🦌 Roe

#reader insert #angst #10k #10k z nation #Tommy z nation #z nation #10k x reader #Tommy x reader #Alvin Murphy #fics

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thegeminisage · 3 years

Note

Here's something I'd love your take on: I read a meta recently (would link it but I can't remember where, ack) that suggested that Sam is able to forgive John in later seasons because a) he's had the whole "family making unilateral decisions for your own good" thing repeatedly shoved down his throat, and b) whatever John did under this umbrella in their childhoods, Dean has done far worse by that point, and Sam HAS to forgive him so by extension he can't really be mad at John anymore (1/2)

(2/2) As someone who has admittedly only seen bits and pieces of the later seasons, this seems to jive with Sam losing a lot of his characteristic early-seasons anger, letting Dean call the shots almost all the time even when he thinks it's the wrong move, and moments of sympathy for John (contrasted w/Dean's growing resentment, which is so interesting!). But! I got some big ol' gaps in my spn comprehension, so was curious if you had any thoughts on this dynamic

wow okay long answer warning! i got carried away and forgot how to use punctuation. nobody is obligated to read all of this lol and the biggest part of the answer is behind a cut. anyway!!

first things first: i think a big thing to remember with sam’s characterization in later seasons is that it’s like...not there, and when it is there, it’s sometimes flat and inconsistent. because dean became sole the main protagonist after the first 8 (arguably the first 5 or even first 2) seasons, sam sort of got demoted to “side character we don’t know what to do with” along with cas and crowley. they all had good arcs pop up now and then (sam had some fun stuff going on with lucifer in s11 and s13) but most of the time the writers either don’t know how to give him a meaningful characterization or don’t care (or both). so we have to do a lot of that work ourselves.

so, for example, when we talk about sam losing his anger, i like to read it as him OVERCOMING that anger to avoid becoming his father (which may even be where some of the seemingly sympathetic comments come from, because he’s trying to be forgiving instead of angry), but really...it’s that the writers forgot he had anger issues. in-universe explanation vs irl explanation, yk? and i think pretty much all meta about sam in late seasons is written through that lens, whether the writer of that meta knows it or not. including this one! i can’t prove any of this shit, it’s my personal reading, i’m making it up. like there were just SO many different people involved in the production of supernatural that there was a lot of conflict and contradictions in things like continuity and characterization. (most of the writers room hadn’t even seen every episode!) so there’s not one definitive way to go about it. in many ways it makes the characters more nuanced and in many other ways it makes me fucking insane.

as for sam and john and whether or not sam forgives him, i’m actually glad you asked because this has been driving me nuts for a long time and it took me SO LONG to pin it down - sam’s relationship with john is very different to dean’s, and i couldn’t figure out WHY. it’s not that he was “abused less,” it’s not that he loved john less or was less hurt by his actions, so why doesn’t he seem as INVESTED in everything that happened to them as kids? like he says in season 14 he had to learn to let it go and that it was all a lifetime ago for him. meanwhile i think dean still deals with it every day. he’s still stewing in it to some degree 24/7. so like what’s the difference??

i think it comes down to two things. firstly, that while dean didn’t have anybody parenting him except john (and mary, but only for a very short time that he could actually remember), SAM’S parents were john AND DEAN. most of the time dean was the one raising sam, and in fact he arguably did way more parenting of sam than john did. so the person that made dean feel safe and like he could fight back against monsters, the person he was grateful to, was john. but the person who made SAM feel safest was dean. he doesn’t have that same gratitude towards john that dean does and he never will, because of how john made him feel alienated and excluded from their family growing up. dean’s resentment of john is so tangled up in this very deep and unconditional love and gratitude for him that sam just doesn’t have.

secondly, i think dean has a serious case of “i can fix him” re: john that sam doesn’t have and possibly never had. john just never showed sam the same kind of inclusion and warmth and trust that he showed dean (however rarely he showed it, and however fucked up it was). i think sam figured out very very early on that their quest for yellow eyes was either a long shot or straight up impossible, and that they couldn’t waste their entire lives doing it, and that even if the demon died, john was never going to change. dean 100% drank the koolaid - he really truly believed in a world where someday they’d kill the demon and all retire from the life and be normal and be a family again, because that’s what john said and dean took his father’s word as gospel. sam knew better.

so i think what sam did was just disengage. partially because he felt he couldn’t afford to nurse that kind of anger and not become either his father or lucifer, and partially because even though sam loved john, still loves john, he never needed him the way dean did, because sam had dean. so it doesn’t hurt him as much to just “gray rock” it. i think if sam stopped and really dug into it he’d find that he’s still quite angry (probably more angry on dean’s behalf than his own, at least at first, because in his mind he was able to move past it and dean was not, dean had it worse, HIS OWN trauma isn’t real etc etc), but he doesn’t do that because he doesn’t want to be that angry, and possibly even thinks that if he brought it up dean would jump to john’s defense and it would cause a fight, which the opposite of what a gray rock does.

as for being forced to forgive john because if he didn’t he would also have to condemn dean...i don’t think i buy that at all. sam is fine making dean his exception and he allows dean to get away with a lot of deeply horrible shit he would condemn other people for. partially because he’s dean and sam loves him, but in my ~personal reading~ of sam, this is also because once sam became an adult the weight of everything dean did and had to give up to raise him really sank in, and part of him felt guilty (even though sam arguably didn’t have a childhood either). you know how kids take care of their parents in old age to repay them for raising them? that’s sort of how sam is with dean in later seasons - he implies multiple times that he would leave the hunting life forever and not look back if it weren’t for dean.

and as a side note - sorry, this is only tangentially related - dean implies several times in later seasons that the job is where he finds his sense of accomplishment and self-esteem and meaning - he believes the world is a better place because of what he and sam do, and even though he doesn’t always like DOING the job, he likes the outcome. it’s weird because this is as close as we see dean get to even HAVING self esteem. sam, emotionally intelligent, would have picked up on that - and since he and dean have both tried to leave the life multiple times and have always come to regret it, i also think part of sam believes you CAN’T escape - certainly SAM could never escape so long as dean was still in it, because whether he meant to or not dean would always pull him back in. and part of dean doesn’t really want to escape because he’s made his peace with it. so sam stays, and i think even if he can’t find the same meaning in the job that dean does, he finds a lot of meaning in being there for dean. (this, like gray rocking, is also consistent with the seasons where sam’s sole character trait is caring about dean lol. but i’m happy enough to read it in a kinder and less bitter/resentful way.)

it IS worth noting i think that the most forgiving sam ever was about john was in the adam episode, where he said he understood why he was the way he was and why he did what he did, and when dean said they were alike sam decided to take it as a compliment. sam in season 4 is arguably at one of his lowest points - struggling with addiction, consumed by anger and hatred and the need for revenge. he WAS like john in many ways, and i think he justified what john was doing because it also justified what HE was doing. but what he was doing led to breaking lucifer out of hell and the apocalypse that followed, which is why i like to think sam worked so hard to reign in his anger afterward - both to avoid his fate and avoid becoming his father.

in short: i don’t think sam has actually forgiven john so much as disengaged from him and moved past it. because if he DID engage with it, it’d bring up a whole lot of stuff he didn’t feel prepared to deal with. one of the risks of gray rocking things is doing it to the point that you lose touch with your own wants and needs and personality, so i think by late seasons sam’s repression, which is much more sneaky and quiet than dean’s, has settled in to the point where he’s like “yeah whatever” about dad out of sheer self preservation - because otherwise, he’d end up going crazy about it like dean does. i think it’d do him a hell of a lot of good to be able to get to shout at john and finally say his piece/ he’s really afraid of his own anger, but i think it’d be healthy for him to get back in touch with some of it.

[spn masterpost]

#liz answers asks #bimbonaparte #sam winchester #john winchester #liz makes stuff #liz's spn stuff #liz's meta #whew this was a long one sorry.#i am so glad you have the same icon on tumblr and ao3 i was replying TO YOUR COMMENT when i got this ask <3 #fun cool coincidences!!!!!#anyway i didn't want to mention my fic but like this is why i had him yell in my fic. it's good for him #for himself and for dean he deserves to feel angry

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bonvoyagenoona · 2 years

Note

Ah, okay!! My brain has finally settled enough to form coherent sentences! So...

Okay, so, first let me start by saying (again) how fucking poetic Project Dream Girl was. The symbolism and metaphors? UM! *chef's kiss* And as much as I despised what's her face, I genuinely felt more sympathy for her. Like, I can only imagine how low her self-worth must be to be so nasty and manipulative. She sounds like she needs some time to herself to love herself better, you know? Not work so hard to cage someone she supposedly "loves".

Also, the friendship between the guys and the reader was absolutely remarkable! So relatable, too. I have a group of guy friends and I think that aspect of the story really hit home with me, making it feel that much more realistic. Those friendships, the ones where they'll go to the ends of the earth for each other, even when one of them isn't able to see what's best for themselves–that's something special.

As far as the reader's relationship with her parents–I can't say that I wholly relate to it, at least not in the fellowship and love that they share. Now, as far as pouring [my] life into helping them and doing every little thing imaginable to keep them safe and secure, and a roof over their heads–I relate all too well. And then not feeling like anything I do is enough, even though I give my all, that really struck home, too. I think in a way we all can relate in some way to that, and I really treasure that about certain writings, and especially with yours. You've written about insecurities and vulnerabilities that a lot of people face, and maybe not all in the same way, but ultimately, when you get to the root of it, it all kind of stems from the same place of self-loathing and inadequacy, and that's a huge talking point in any context that a lot of people may not touch upon in fear of making a story too realistic. But what's fiction without a little realism?

Anyway, I just wanted to communicate to you (still not as effectively as I'd hoped to) how moving your writing is. I plan to delve deep into your masterlist tonight, and read all the Hobi content I can– and only because he's, like, my safe space? Lol, I know that sounds like some lame excuse, but I physically can't bring myself to read anything romantic with any of the other guys. Platonically, oh yeah, for sure, without a doubt. But romantically? Idk why I can't do it 😅

Anyway! I can't wait to continue on this journey with you. 😊💖 Thank you for existing and writing such brilliant masterpieces, and sharing them with the world. 🤗

Lol first of all, "what's her face" 🤣🤣😭 Ahhh, please! This is so extremely sweet!!

I'm very touched that you find anything of mine to be poetic! Whenever I write, I really enjoy layering in as many fun literary treats as possible. So glad that you enjoyed them!

On not caging in people we love: You're definitely right about what's her face; she has a LOT to work through, and it stems from her own insecurities. The fear of not having control. The fear of losing something that she thinks "belongs" to her. Quite scary, the lengths we'll go to.

On the hometown heroes: I'm so glad you enjoyed their dynamic, and that it made you think of your own wonderful friends! Ends-of-the-earth friendships terraformed in youth are especially magical because they show how selfless and pure love can be. When I write them, I often think of playing with my brother when he was younger, or memories of hanging out in class or the band hall with my guy group / drumline friends, all doing the silliest, dumbest shit. Within all of that were true moments of care shared with everyone. I find it fascinating and sweet that they all loved (and loved each other) so fiercely.

On relationships with parents: "But what's fiction without a little realism?" You're so right! The thing that makes me emotional (happy, sad, scared, alive) about fiction is when it feels so real. And yes, a lot of core values and beliefs that we have about ourselves come from those feelings of inadequacy. But they're also things that we can work to change over time, with the right support networks. It can be intense when that support comes from a place that flips the script -- children taking care of parents, or found family taking care of each other. But, kinda like what you said, what's reality without a little magic twist here or there?

Thank you so much for reading along with me and sharing such a moving message! And thank you for traveling with me! I hope you enjoy the places we go, and I'm always so excited to hear your takes on what we see and experience. Thank you for sharing your time, and sending you fond, silly Hobi eyes from behind his adorable glasses!

#asks #your asks #folkpunkrock-littlewing-blog #y'all your messages are just aaaaaahhhh 😭#i'm truly so touched #ALSO THE NICK MILLER GIF I JUST---#project dream girl #thank you thank you thank you #😊

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seasonsofeverlark · 4 years

Text

Fall-ing In Love

Author: @mandelion82

Prompt: Fall-ing in love. Picture this on a walk on an Autumn day. Chilly day. The leaves have changed, breathing it in… you notice how a dock is still out in the water. You stand on it breathing in that air… until a dog barks which startles you and you fall in. Boy walking the dog jumps into the semi chilly water to save you. He takes you to his house to warm up….he’s cute, btw. Hope this is something you can work with. [submitted by @katnissandpeeta125]

Rating: T (to be safe, for mentions of alcohol)

Author’s Note: Canadian!Peeta x American!Katniss, meet-cute. Some of the places are real, including, of course, Manitoba, Winnipeg and Tim Hortons. Some places (and things) are made-up, obviously, so don’t bust me, my Canadian friends. I tried to be as accurate as I could on things I didn’t make up, lol. So, this was getting much too long for a prompt fic, but I am considering continuing it on A03 in the near future. Hope you all enjoy, and thanks for the prompt, @katnissandpeeta125!

______________

It was October 9th, and the Everdeens‒Katniss, her sister, Primrose, and their mother‒were currently making the drive up to Manitoba, Canada from their home in Grand Forks, North Dakota. They were traveling to visit their Uncle Haymitch for Canadian Thanksgiving, which fell this year on October 12th.

Katniss and Prim’s mother’s brother was a solitary man, an alcoholic grump, to put it bluntly, who had no real interest in associating with anyone as far as Katniss knew. But her mother had decreed they should all get to know him better. Katniss knew that her motivation lay in regret, regret that she’d lost touch with him after he moved to Canada, and other things… And now that her husband had passed, and with Haymitch being her only living older relative, she wanted them all to forge a closer relationship with the man.

Good luck to them.

Initially, her mother had tried to get Haymitch to visit them in the US, but he’d refused, saying he didn’t plan on leaving his home, ever. Stubborn as a mule. And so, her mother had suggested they visit him. Truth be told, Katniss was shocked that old Haymitch had agreed, and from the sounds of it, it had taken some arm-twisting. But, in the end, Haymitch had welcomed them to stay in his house, saying his casa was their casa. He’d said it was because he couldn’t turn away family, but Katniss suspected it had a lot to do with her mother offering to cook a large meal for him.

Haymitch Abernathy was basically a hermit, a hermit with a very nice, very large home‒he lived in a rustic, spacious log and stone cabin on Lake Victor in the small town of Panem, just outside of Winnipeg. The trip to see him had somehow turned into a three-week ordeal, their mother having decided they might as well make a vacation out of it.

Katniss had no idea how this was going to work. Her mother had promised Haymitch they wouldn’t be a burden, that he’d barely know they were there. Given how big his home appeared in photos, that might be possible, if it weren’t for her mother’s lofty ideals of getting to know him better. Katniss could just picture it: her mother waiting on her uncle hand-and-foot, trying to get them all to bond, organizing family game nights, and consequently, Uncle Haymitch fighting the urge to jump out the window. Well, he might like the being waited on part.

The reason they could take such a long trip was that their mother had her own business she could take anywhere; Prim attended one of those year-round high schools with the unusual breaks, and as for twenty-one-year-old Katniss, she’d long since graduated.

Katniss had been accepted to a state university in North Dakota, but admittedly, she was torn about actually attending. For one, the tuition and fees were outrageous; it had seemed like a waste of money they didn’t have. On top of that, she hadn’t qualified for financial aid, and so, she’d been working her butt off for nearly two years to save up enough to get started. Her mom, and even sixteen-year-old Prim, had been scrimping and saving in order for her to go to college, too. It brought Katniss endless guilt, even more upon the realization that she was no longer certain it was what she wanted.

She didn’t really know what she wanted to study or do with her life; all she knew was that she wanted to take care of her family and see Prim succeed. When their mother shut down for nearly six months after their father died, Katniss had feared everything would fall apart. She didn’t know how to reach her mother, and she hadn’t been prepared to basically become her sister’s caretaker at seventeen. She loved Prim; in fact, Prim was the only person in the living world she was sure she loved, but it had been nearly too much. They’d managed, though, as always.

Now, Prim had dreams of becoming a doctor. She had real potential, too. Medical school was crazy-expensive, though, and Katniss wondered if perhaps her college money would be better invested in helping Prim reach her goal. Katniss was more of the worker bee, anyway. She’d been thinking about this a lot on their drive up, that is when Prim wasn’t prodding her into singing along with the radio (because she loved her voice) and playing car games.

The Everdeens had taken an alternative route to Canada because Prim had expressed interest in visiting the International Peace Garden. When they arrived at the border, a friendly guard with an accent not too dissimilar from Katniss and Prim’s mother greeted them. He went about his routine check and sent them on their way with no issue, and they entered their neighbor to the north.

Although they’d gone out of their way quite a bit, for Katniss, it was worth it to see Prim’s face as they walked through the floral (fortunately still in bloom) grounds of the Peace Garden. They toured the Sunken Garden and saw the Promise of Peace sculpture, a set of hands releasing a dove, which Prim loved and had to snap selfies of herself by, along with the entire family. They moved on to the North American Game Warden Museum, which Katniss found interesting, and then to the floral clock, another favorite of Prim’s. After that, they had a small picnic in the picnic area and finished off their tour.

______________

Because of the detour, the Everdeens didn’t arrive at Haymitch’s place until well after three. Haymitch’s wooden home was adjacent to the serene blue-green Lake Victor, surrounded by tall evergreen trees and a mix of pine, balsam, ash, and poplar, whose leaves had transformed into a palette of brilliant reds, yellows, and oranges. Upon first inspection, it seemed to be the perfect escape into nature.

When they pulled up, Katniss saw Haymitch exiting his home and approaching their car.

“Well, there they are,” greeted her old uncle in his still-Americanized accent. He was obviously trying to sound peppy, but Katniss could tell he was skeptical about all this. So was she.

Shutting her driver’s side car door, “Hello, Haymitch,” her mother greeted him with a smile. She stepped forward, reaching out for him. Haymitch met her halfway and gave her a squeeze. He also hugged Prim, then reluctantly turned to Katniss.

There was no need to bother with it or mince words‒they both knew the other wasn’t a hugger, and they accepted that. Haymitch forced himself with his sister and with Prim, and as for Katniss, she didn’t really like being touched by anyone except Prim, and previously, her father.

“How ya doing, sweetheart?” Haymitch asked, keeping his distance as if she was something venomous. Okay by her.

“Fine, Haymitch,” she replied. “And you?”

“Just dandy. Uh,” he turned back to the other two, “why don’t y’all come in,” he offered, motioning with his hand toward the house. They followed him inside, only to stand in the foyer for several awkward moments before Haymitch offered them the grand tour.

The place was indeed large, with high ceilings supported by long, thick logs and massive windows, which could definitely use a dusting but beheld incredible views just the same. It was refreshingly uncluttered, aside from a substantial collection of alcohol behind his bar and in the liquor cabinet. Surprise, surprise. Haymitch warned the girls about sneaking some of his liquor, but that was neither here nor there. Katniss had never touched the stuff in her life and didn’t plan to start now, and Prim would never do such a thing. Always sweet as peaches, she’d never even gone through a rebellious teenage phase.

Next, Haymitch showed them to their rooms‒there were enough for all of them to have one to themselves. Katniss took the smallest guest room, giving her mother the largest and her sister the one with the best view. Katniss didn’t plan on staying in the house much, anyway.

After that, her mother got right to work, settling in and cleaning up around Haymitch’s place before announcing she was going to start dinner. Haymitch grumbled a little, but ultimately, didn’t stop her, especially with the promise of food hanging in the air. And while his sister made herself at home, Haymitch opted for taking a bottle of whiskey and a glass to his favorite chair.

______________

After a big meal and a little conversation, the Everdeens retired to their respective rooms. Katniss assumed her mother would be reading and Prim would be listening to music or on her phone if she didn’t lose signal, and as for Katniss, she was planning to go out tomorrow morning, so she prepared her bag and went to sleep.

That night, Katniss dreamt of her father. She hadn’t done so in a long time, but being in this place brought him readily to mind. It was the woods. Being in the woods reminded her so much of him. She wasn’t sure how to feel about her mind suddenly being flooded with thoughts of her dad. On the one hand, her memories of him were cherished, but on the other, sometimes forgetting was easier…

______________

In the still of morning, just as the sun peeked out over the horizon, Katniss slipped out of bed. The house was peacefully quiet, aside from the typical early morning noises emanating from the wilderness outside. She dressed quickly and took the stairs as softly as possible, avoiding the couple of spots she’d discovered creaked loudly. She walked into the wide-open living room and was surprised to find Haymitch already awake, seated in his green overstuffed chair with his feet propped up on the coffee table, staring out the windows. He didn’t even turn to look at her when he said, “Good mornin’.”

“Good morning,” she muttered back, stepping into her boots she’d left by the door. She laced them up and grabbed her father’s old, leather hunting jacket.

“Going out?” he asked in a gruff, groggy tone.

Katniss shrugged on the jacket. She could tell by the air that slipped in through the cracks of the windows upstairs that it was chilly out, but she had on layers, so she should stay warm enough.

“Yeah,” she said, hiking her bag up onto her shoulder.

Katniss expected her uncle to question where she was going (she didn’t really know where) and when she’d be back (she didn’t know that, either) as her mother and Prim would, but all he said was, “There’s some bear spray on the table. Take it with you.”

She could get used to this, decided Katniss. A quick verbal exchange or, even better, none. She lightly pressed her lips together and thanked her uncle as she snatched the canister of deterrent from off the table and stuck it in her pants pocket. And she went outside.

It was, indeed, chilly out, but not the unpleasant kind that cuts straight through you to the bone. Katniss observed the morning mist rising on the water and breathed in the perfect scent of trees and distant mountain air. Again, she was reminded of her father. Despite the bittersweet nostalgia, getting back to nature was always a good thing for Katniss. Maybe this place was a good idea after all. Sticking her hands in the pockets of her jacket, she trudged off, traveling the short distance down to the lake.

She hadn’t gone far when she noticed a long, wooden dock. She stepped onto the dock and took the walk all the way to the end. The tips of her boots just barely hung over the edge. Around her, it was almost completely silent, aside from the occasional honk of the geese flying in formation overhead. Katniss looked up, then down and out across the reflective surface of the water, now illuminated by the rising sun casting its soft pink and yellow glow. A pair of loons swam by, barely even noticing or caring about her. They must be used to people, she surmised. Not like this was a hopping tourist spot, but clearly, people lived here as she’d noticed several other large homes around.

Katniss took in the rest of her surroundings visually, then shut her eyes and breathed in deep. It was definitely Fall. Fall had that exact same smell every year whether in the United States or Canada, and once again, it was one she so closely linked with her father.

As she stood on the edge of the dock, a loud bark pierced the morning stillness. It was so high-pitched, so sudden, and so close that Katniss lost her balance, opening her eyes just in time to go careening into the lake. She was cold and wet, and it took her a moment to realize what had just happened and to get her bearings. By the time she did, a pair of strong arms were wrapped around her middle, pulling her back toward the dock. Somehow, she’d swum out a few yards in the wrong direction, probably disoriented by the shock of the surprisingly frigid-for-Fall water.

But who had her around the waist?

She was barely able to register the solid form of a guy before he hefted her onto the dock. Katniss got to her feet and took a couple of steps back, allowing him room to pull himself out of the water. She heard that unmistakable bark again and looked to see the dog (she assumed) that’d startled her swimming up behind the guy. The dog’s owner turned around and pulled it out of the water, setting it on the dock; it licked his face then trotted off toward land, giving her a cursory glance and a sniff along the way. Fortunately, it waited to pass by her before shaking out its thick, reddish-brown fur.

It was only then that Katniss got a good look at her ‘rescuer.’ Standing at full medium height on the edge of the dock, she noticed he was broad-shouldered and stocky, with ashy blond hair that fell in damp waves across his forehead. And very blue eyes. He was cute. Really cute, actually. Maybe the cutest guy she’d seen in a while, at least that she could recall right now. But maybe her brain was frozen from icy water.

“Are you alright?” the guy asked sincerely.

“Y-yeah,” she mumbled, hugging herself as she involuntarily began to shiver. It hadn’t seemed very cold out, but of course, that’d all changed now that she was soaked through and the wind was hitting her. “Wh-why…did…y-you do that?” she asked, her teeth chattering.

The guy didn’t answer but, instead, grabbed his coat lying on the dock and strode over to her. With surprising flair, he whipped it around, draping it across her shoulders. She wanted to protest, but it was so cold, and his jacket was so warm that she couldn’t seem to form one. She shrugged it on, and he helped her slip her trembling arms through the holes. As if that wasn’t kind enough, he even zipped the jacket up for her. It felt like something an overly doting boyfriend would do, and despite her cheeks being practically frozen solid, she felt them heat up.

And then, when he began brusquely rubbing her arms to create friction through his coat, she blushed even harder. A stranger was touching her‒she barely let her family do so‒in a practical yet affectionate manner, and she wasn’t even resisting…

Katniss stared briefly down at her soggy boots, then raised her gray eyes to meet his blue ones. “Um, thanks. What about you?” she asked, referring to his lack of coat.

He dropped his hands to his sides, giving her a small smile. “I’m fine.”

Clearly, he wasn’t. His burnt orange sweater and khaki pants were saturated, and every few seconds or so, he’d shiver. He was obviously freezing but trying to hide it. A guy thing, she supposed.

“Why did you do that?” she repeated her earlier question. “You didn’t need to do that. I was fine. I know how to swim.”

Honestly, she wanted to rant at him. There was no reason for him to jump in; it made no sense at all, and now they were both soaked through.

He shrugged, then embraced himself for warmth. “I didn’t know that. As for why, it was instinct. I just saw a person in trouble, and when a guy sees that, he’s gotta act.”

So, he was just doing the decent thing any guy would do… Not any guys she knew. Maybe Canadian ones were different.

“I’m Peeta,” he said, extending his hand to her. “Peeta Mellark.”

“Katniss,” she replied, giving it a brief shake. “Everdeen,” she added hesitantly.

He smiled at her. “Well, Katniss Everdeen, we, uh, probably shouldn’t stay out here, wet like this.” She was surprised he hadn’t said so sooner, and she was surprised neither of them had made any move to leave. “Where’d you say you were staying?”

She eyed him suspiciously. “I didn’t.”

“Well,” he exhaled, “if it’s far, maybe you better come to my place.”

“What?” There was no way she was going off with a total stranger, to his house, no matter how cute or charismatic he was.

“To get warmed up. It’s just over there.” He pointed, and she followed his finger. It was the house directly across the lake from Haymitch’s.

“It’s really not far to where I’m staying,” she said, not wanting to tell him exactly where.

“Yeah, but it’s a bit nippy, Katniss,” he persisted, briskly rubbing his own arms, “and being wet like that, you could catch your death of pneumonia, eh?”

She narrowed her eyes slightly. “How do I know you won’t kill me?”

Peeta smiled wider, revealing a pair of dimples. “Do I look dangerous?”

She scrutinized him, his innocent little grin, those soft blue eyes crinkled up at the corners. “No, but appearances can be deceiving.”

“Sure they can. But hey, I promise I won’t hurt ya.” He held up his hand in some kind of scouts’ honor symbol. “We Canadians are very friendly.”

“It’s really not necessary, Peeta. You should go home and get yourself warm.”

“Sorry. I would, Katniss, but Canadian hospitality dictates that I see you get warmed up, or at least get to the place you’re staying. I can tell you’re not from around here.”

Was that supposed to be an insult or simply an observation? Even if it was meant to be the former, he’d said it in such a polite manner that she couldn’t take it as such.

Katniss heaved a sigh. “Okay.” She didn’t need it on her conscience if this nice guy got sick.

“Good!” Peeta exclaimed, bouncing a little. She didn’t know whether from excitement over her agreement or trying to keep warm. Maybe a little of both. This got his dog excited, too, and it barked from beside him.

“But, for your sake, I hope you’re harmless because I’ve got bear spray in my pocket.”

Peeta raised a brow. “I see. Well then, I’d better be on my best behavior, huh? Cause that stuff’ll mess you up!” He grinned at her, and the corners of Katniss’s lips twitched in response.

“Shall we go, then?” he suggested, motioning. Still being ultra polite, even though he had to be an icicle by now. She nodded.

Why was she agreeing to this? Katniss wondered. Haymitch’s house was right over there. It wouldn’t take her that long to get there. Was she crazy?

She didn’t have much time to ponder it, though, because Peeta was already gently leading her off, his hand ever so lightly brushing her back.

______________

Peeta’s home was nearly as large as Haymitch’s and looked quite similar on the outside. Inside, it was structurally the same, yet completely different. He had art on the walls, a few sculptures, and hockey paraphernalia, the Winnipeg Jets. Overall, the place felt homier, warmer, and definitely more colorful.

“It’s nice.” She was trying to be polite, though she knew she wasn’t anywhere near as polite as he was. “Do you live here alone?” she asked, glancing around for any signs of others.

“Most of the time,” was his confusing response. He noticed her bewildered expression and gave a small chuckle. “Sometimes my parents come around, and one of my brothers stays here off and on.”

Well, that didn’t clear things up much.

“Long story.” He laughed.

Clearly.

“How old are you?” Katniss asked, not knowing where it came from. She hoped that wasn’t considered rude around these parts.

He didn’t hesitate to answer. “25.”

Peeta didn’t ask how old she was in turn, only smiled and led her upstairs. Katniss patted her pocket to make sure the canister was still there. Hopefully it still worked. But if Peeta was a killer, he was just about the nicest one she could imagine. Of course, wouldn’t that be the perfect crime?

He twisted the knob and pushed open the second door on the left, explaining that it was his room. He stepped in, but Katniss lingered in the doorway while he went to his closet. He rummaged around a bit before pulling out a sweater and pair of sweatpants.

“I’m sorry that this is all I have,” he said. “Not very fashionable, but it’s the smallest I own.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “I don’t really care about fashion.” She didn’t, and she was already feeling much warmer. She thought to tell him she should really just go now, but Peeta was insistent, and so, she took the clothes and allowed him to lead her to a bathroom down the hall. “This is the nice one,” he said. “For guests. There are some towels in there. Feel free to use anything you need.”

“Oh. Okay.” Once more, she nodded, and she stepped inside and locked the door.

After dressing, Katniss left the bathroom. Peeta was waiting, leaning against the wall with a bag in his hand. “Here, a bag to put your wet clothes in,” he said. He thought of everything.

It was only then that she caught his accent. Subtle yet noticeable, she heard it when he said certain words like bag, which he pronounced as a cross between ‘beg’ and ‘bayg.’ It wasn’t uncommon for people around her area and in nearby Minnesota to speak that way, so she hadn’t really thought about it, but she did now. She thought the subtle difference in his speech to be kind of cute, actually.

Peeta led her downstairs and asked her to wait on the couch. He still hadn’t changed himself, which she felt bad about. “I’ll be right back,” he said, dragging out the a in the word. “Then I’ll make you some tea.”

“You don’t have‒” she began, but she stopped herself, knowing it was useless to argue. This Canadian stranger’s hospitality apparently knew no bounds.

While he was changing, Katniss briefly wondered if she should just go, but that felt incredibly rude. He really had been so nice thus far, so she waited.

He came back, dressed in a hockey jersey and jeans. His still slightly damp, wavy hair was slicked back in some kind of style now. It made him look less boyish, more manly, and she couldn’t deny, quite attractive.

Peeta offered her tea once more, using his previous line about Canadian hospitality. She accepted and carefully watched him make it for her, so he didn’t slip anything in it.

“You use that excuse about hospitality a lot,” she quipped.

“S’not an excuse. It’s practically the law around these parts, sweetheart,” he said, handing her the tea.

“Sweetheart? Another Canadianism?” She was joking, of course. She knew full well it wasn’t because Haymitch called her that all the time, and he was originally American. It had always seemed like a strange term to Katniss, though, one that only truly fit with couples who’d been married forever, and not even then for her. She was never planning on getting married.

Then again, she kind of liked the sound of the word ‘sweetheart’ rolling off Peeta’s tongue…

“Nah, that one’s just mine.” He winked at her, and in spite of how forward she thought him, she smiled ever so faintly over her mug. Then she blew lightly on the tea and took a tentative sip. Just right.

She watched him prepare his own tea.

“You don’t take sugar in your tea?” she asked, noticing he hadn’t added any to his cup.

“Nah. I’m not much for sweet things. Drinks, anyway.” He winked at her again.

Katniss pressed her lips together. Was he flirting with her?

“Well, I like them. Sweet drinks,” she quickly added the second part. Peeta grinned at her clarification and took a seat on the couch with her, at the other end. She shifted in her spot, her back digging into the armrest. She was uncomfortable, yes, but not because she didn’t trust him. It was because of his looks and the scent coming from him and infused in the clothes she wore. Like cinnamon and dill.

“So, you’re from the States?” Peeta asked, taking a sip, then setting his cup down on the coffee table.

“Yes. How did you know?”

“I can just tell. From the way you talk and your mannerisms.”

Katniss picked at a loose thread on the side of his sweatpants. She wasn’t really good at conversation, and she didn’t know what to say next, until she caught sight of his dog over in the corner. “So, your dog…um, what breed is he or she?”

“Oh, she’s a mutt.” Peeta laughed. Katniss laughed a little, too.

“Okay, but a mutt of what?”

“Nova Scotia duck tolling retriever and lab.”

Katniss nodded, even though she knew nothing about either type of dog, particularly the first. “I see. What’s her name?”

“Biscuit.”

“Biscuit. Really?”

“What?” He smirked.

“Well, it’s just…a little generic, isn’t it?”

“Generic, huh?” Peeta chuckled. “Well, I didn’t name her. My brother did. Used to be his dog, but he found out his wife’s allergic. He was gonna have to give her up, so I took her.”

“That was nice of you.”

“I s’pose.” He shrugged. “Figured he could at least see Biscuit this way. I call her Cookie most of the time, though, because that’s what a biscuit is here. My brother’s into American slang,” he explained.

“I see. Well, it’s…cute.”

Peeta smiled.

They talked a while longer, about basic things mainly, and after some time, Peeta cleared his throat. “So, Katniss, I was wondering…now that we’re dry, would you like to have some breakfast with me?”

“Uh…”

“If you haven’t had any, and you’re hungry, that is.”

“Well…”

“I would cook for you, Katniss. I’m a decent cook, but I don’t have much in the house right now. Wasn’t expecting company.” Company. Meaning, the klutzy girl he’d fished out of the lake then dragged home to make sure she got dry and warm, all out of the goodness of his heart.

“So, I was thinking I could take you out somewhere. Would you allow it?”

She should turn him down, say she needs to go or that her family is expecting her. Speaking of which, her family…she’d almost forgotten about them. They probably were wondering what happened to her.

“You don’t need to do that,” she said, rather regrettably.

“Please, Katniss. I’d really like to make it up to you. It was Cookie’s fault you fell in the lake.”

Peeta put on a smile, and it was so bright and beautiful and hopeful that she hated to wipe it away by saying no.

“Well…I…should check in with my family first.”

“So, you’ll allow it?” he asked, grinning like mad.

“Yeah,” she smiled back, “I’ll allow it.”

She might as well. If the guy was going to kill her or attack her, he would have done it by now, wouldn’t he? She shook her head at her own thoughts.

Then, another popped in.

“Hey, do you have Tim Hortons?”

Peeta chuckled. “Oh, you like Timmies, eh?”

“Yeah, I like the timbits.”

“A lot of Americans do, but let me tell you a secret…” He leaned across the couch, not close enough to touch her but enough that she could see the sparkle in his eyes and feel his breath against her face. “They’re much better here than in the States.”

Katniss smirked. “I see.”

“No offense to you guys, of course. And to answer your question, we do have Timmies, but it’s all the way in Winnipeg. I don’t mind taking you there, but would your family miss you?” He was giving her that dimpled grin again.

Katniss laughed, a little awkwardly. “Uh, yeah, maybe someplace closer?”

“I know just the place. A local place. Better than Timmies, too.”

“Okay. Well, I should, uh…” She rose from the couch, and he bolted upright at the same time. Probably’d been taught it was good manners. “Get back.”

“May I walk you?” he asked.

“Uh…” She hesitated. How would it look if she came strolling back to Haymitch’s house with a guy? Then again, how was it going to look when she told her family she was planning to go out for breakfast with the cute Canadian stranger across the lake? She couldn’t believe she was going to have breakfast with a cute Canadian stranger she just met…

But she actually wanted to go.

Katniss let Peeta walk her most of the way back to Haymitch’s then exchanged numbers and told him she’d meet him in twenty minutes at the dock. She figured she could ask Haymitch about him. It might be embarrassing, but she needed to find out a bit more information before going somewhere with him. As for her number, well, she couldn’t believe she’d given him that, but at least it gave her the option of blowing him off without in-person contact if she needed to. Then, if worse came to worse and he kept trying to contact her, she could always shut her phone off for the duration of the trip‒she barely used it, anyway‒and then she could get a new number back home…

______________

When Katniss returned, Haymitch’s place was alive and filled with noise. Prim’s singing reverberated off the rafters, and her mother and Haymitch were bickering like (most) siblings do about some nonsense.

“Katniss, there you are,” her mother exclaimed when she saw her, sounding a bit flustered. “Where were you?”

“I sent the bear spray with her,” Haymitch declared, throwing his hands up as if he expected to be blamed and to say it wasn’t his fault.

As for Katniss, she wasn’t sure what to say. She didn’t want to say she was at some guy’s house, nor explain why she was wearing his clothes and carrying her damp ones in a bag.

“I went out for a walk,” she opted for. The three all turned toward her, examining her curiously.

“Katniss, what are you wearing?” asked her mother.

Great.

Well, she’d known that was coming. She should have tried to sneak in the back.

“Yeah,” Prim chimed in, “why are you wearing a sweater about three sizes too big for you that isn’t even yours, huh?!”

Might as well rip off the bandaid now. And so, she told the story…

“Oh, how romantic!” gushed Prim when she’d finished.

Their mother was staring at her while haphazardly wiping down the table for the third time, and Haymitch looked bored.

“It wasn’t romantic at all; it was stupid,” Katnis corrected, earning a disapproving look from Prim. “I was right off the dock, and I can swim, as you know, but this guy just jumped in after me. He said something about Canadian hospitality and how he just reacted.”

“What’d you say this guy’s name was?” asked Haymitch.

“Peeta. Peeta Mellark. He’s your neighbor.”

Realization began to dawn on Haymitch’s face.

“And where’d you say he lived?”

“Right across the lake,” Katniss answered. “You know him?”

Haymitch stroked his stubbled chin, and his mouth curled up. “Oh yeah, the boy across the lake. Yeah, I know him. Nice kid. Bakes good bread.”

“He baked bread for you?”

“Yeah, when I moved in. Said he was bein’ neighborly.”

Katniss smiled to herself. Yeah, that sounded like the Peeta she’d met…

“Wait, what happened after?” Prim interjected. “Are you wearing his clothes?! Did you go to his place?!” Her voice was coming out in squeals; she was getting entirely too excited about the whole thing.

Katniss sighed. “Yeah. I wasn’t going to, but he was insistent that I go to his place to dry off and warm up, and I had that bear spray in my pocket, so I figured if he turned out to be a psycho I could use that or kick him in the groin and run.”

Prim had the widest grin on her face now. “Oh, so he took you back to his place to ‘warm up,’ huh?” Prim used air quotes for the last part.

“Don’t you dare use the air quotes, Primrose!” Clearly, her sister had been reading those ‘romantic’ novels again. “Nothing happened, Prim.” She was directing that statement at everyone, though. “Peeta gave me some dry clothes to wear, a warm drink; we talked a little, and that was it.”

There was a group head bob.

“And…well, he invited me to breakfast.”

Katniss ignored her sister’s exclamation that she was going on a date and stormed up the stairs to her room, well, the room she was using. While trying to decide what to wear on her not-a-date, she considered the whole thing…

Was this worth so much harassment? Katniss wasn’t sure, but she liked Peeta Mellark. She liked him a lot. As a matter of fact, if these were more normal circumstances…if she wasn’t in a foreign country, if she hadn’t known this guy for no more than two hours, and most importantly, if she was a completely different girl, she might say there was a chance she could be falling for Peeta…

But no, it wasn’t possible. Not her. Not so soon. Not ever, really. Katniss Everdeen refused to fall in love or get married. She’d long since decided it wasn’t for her, that she would never go through what her mother did. She rejected the notion, altogether, of letting herself feel so much for another person that she would practically stop living if she lost them.

But the feeling Peeta gave her today, it made her almost…hopeful. It made her wonder how good it could be… Still, she refused to succumb to it. She would go to breakfast with the Canadian boy across the lake; she would enjoy her time with him, and then she’d tuck the nice memory away for safekeeping. That would be the end of it.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #autumn #autumn 2020 #mandelion82 #submission #prompt

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thefreelanceangel · 3 years

Text

Shadowbringers Is Finally Ended

With Patch 5.55 and the official end of the Shadowbringers story, setting up now for Endwalker in November, there are now a few months ahead to grind gear, finish content and reflect on the most recent expansion.

And, without any hyperbole, I can say definitively that I have never in my life been as impressed with a game's writing as I have that of Shadowbringers, both the original expansion and a lot of the patch content. I have... thoughts.

I'm a bit of an outlier; I skipped Stormblood (oops) and went straight from completing Heavensward (which greatly impressed me at the time and still does) into Shadowbringers because I wanted to get a max level character already.

Within the first few cutscenes of Shadowbringers, I was absolutely hooked.

First, let me just say that "monstrous angels" is 100% My Thing. I ADORE the reinterpretation of the standard "Renaissance art angelic figures" into something closer to incomprehensible beings taking on twisted, terrifying appearances. The human mind is a finite thing and comprehending an angel would be as difficult as comprehending infinity; these are things so alien to our experience that assuming they'd be easy to grasp and familiar feels disingenuous to me.

So the sin-eaters and the Lightwardens? SLAP.

Also, the intent behind the usage of "Light" in Shadowbringers was deliberate and purposeful. Our Lord and Savior, Yoshi-P, stated this clearly in his Forbes interview.

"The inception of this idea was very simple: in recent fantasy works, the perception that light equates to good and dark equates to evil is very set in stone, we wanted to shake this up a bit.

"Until this point in Final Fantasy XIV, our players have been Warriors of Light: the hero. However, with Shadowbringers, we leave the Source and embark on a journey to the First, and through this I want our players to discover the truth of the world, as well as think about the real nature of light and dark. That is the theme of Shadowbringers.

"In any case, a light too strong could potentially become evil. Darkness and night are also necessary for the world to maintain its balance; that's the kind of theme we will be shedding light on."

And the themes in Shadowbringers had such an amazing resonance that they were both painfully clear and masterfully executed. Not only was the theme of "balance" clearly executed in the "returning Darkness to a world flooded by Light" goal, but the desire for players to "think about the real nature of light and dark" showed in a multitude of ways.

The Warriors of Light (who we met as the Warriors of Darkness in Heavensward) are, in their home world, reviled. They directly caused the Flood which nearly destroyed their home and although they were able to save it with personal sacrifice, the populace at large is unaware of that sacrifice. The motives behind what the Warriors did is essentially lost to history; all that remains is the perception of their actions and the results thereof.

Motives, however, which you (player and WoL) are privy to.

"At long last, you see. To save our world, we gave our lives. We were just adventurers trying to make our way. An odd job here, a favor there—we never aspired to be Warriors of Light. But word of our deeds spread, and soon people were calling us heroes. They placed their hopes and dreams on our shoulders and bid us fight for all that was good and right. We fought and we fought and we fought...until there was no one left to fight. We won...and now our world is being erased from existence. We did everything right, everything that was asked of us, and still—still it came to this! You of all people should understand! We cannot—we will not falter. We brought our world to the brink of destruction, and now we must save it."

You had that fight with the Warriors of Darkness. You heard Ardbert explain exactly what happened, how they came to the point where they faced off against you, and you saw what happened when they were given the choice to hold back the Flood. And you were there when the one favor Ardbert asked was for the Warriors of Darkness to be taken home.

You see how the First remembers them and it's stark contrast to the heroes you met who were fighting desperately to save people who now spit on their names. History quite clearly has two sides and which you believe is dependent entirely on what information you have.

This becomes even more of a clear theme when you meet Emet-Selch and learn more about the Calamity which led to the entire Zodiark/Hydaelyn duality. Here, your previous experiences with Ascians has painted them solely as "villains." They are established enemies, manipulating events and people in order to attain goals which, to you, are nothing but Calamities.

And yet, as you learn more about the original Source and the Amaurotines that once lived on it, these goals are painted in an entirely new light. Instead of merely seeking to wipe out "the world" for no apparent reason or, at best guess, greater power for their deity Zodiark, the Ascians were striving to repair the damage done by the original Sundering. They, in a manner of speaking, were doing what the Warriors of Darkness were. What you, the Warrior of Light, have been doing. They were trying to restore what was lost.

Which leads into another of Shadowbringers' major themes: grief and loss.

The earliest touches of this are in Alisaie's questlines where you learn about what happens to people tainted by the Light. Families are destroyed, people are transmuted into sin-eaters and those who avoid that fate must stand by and watch as their loved ones fall to something far worse than death. "A Purchase of Fruit" shows you exactly what the end result is while also highlighting something very specific: with no hope of removing the Light's taint, knowing that all that awaits the tainted is a painful transmutation and existence as a sin-eater, those untainted make the best they can of those last days and end the tainted individual's pain before it begins.

Grief, yes. Loss? Absolutely. And yet, this is a loving, compassionate thing that those in Amh Araeng are doing. They face their own grief and loss. Rather than refusing to accept the actuality of their circumstances or refuse to weigh themselves down with taking a decisive action, they make the choice to face their grief and loss directly, even willingly taking on the guilt of their actions rather than leaving the tainted to suffer.

Magnus in Twine lost his wife and son, which immobilizes him. He can't find solance in anything save alcohol and brooding over their graves. It takes outside interference to pull him directly from his grief, to help him see past the loss of his family and look towards the future where life might once again be worth living. His struggle with grief is painfully familiar and so very, very close to many real life struggles that it's extremely poignant.

This struggle with grief is the fight the Ascians are, without question, losing. Let's set aside the "tempering" argument when it comes to Emet-Selch and Elidibus for the moment, largely because it's actually quite true that grief can spur people into committing horrific acts either as a desperate attempt to assuage their own pain (revenge) or make 'things right' in some way (vengeance).

Emet-Selch does not, in fact, properly grieve for Amaurot and the Ancients he knew. He clings to them, as Hythlodaeus tells us, weighed down by an aching sense of loss.

"And though he may carry himself with a certain glib ease, Emet-Selch is not a man to bear his burdens lightly. In fact, I imagine they have only grown heavier with every passing century. ...T'is truly a terrible weight he has chosen to carry."

Quite significantly is the word "chosen" in that. Grief is a process that involves, eventually, letting go of the pain and living with the memories of what was loved and what no longer is. Emet-Selch chooses not to do that. He does not grieve for Amaurot and his lost loved ones; he refuses, no matter how often he mentions his loss, to admit that what is gone is gone.

Elidibus, rather similarly, refuses to accept that the duty he took on when called upon to become Zodiark's heart is finally at an end. That the world he and Emet-Selch originated from is gone. Although he admits that he can barely remember why he's set on this path, he refuses to turn away from him.

One won't forget, one can barely remember--neither will grieve and let go.

Even the Ascians' characteristic arrogance and disdain for what they consider "lesser beings" is easy to read as their long-lasting struggle with grief. Considering the Sundering, all the beings that the Ascians are so disdainful of are, in fact, echoes of that which they once knew. If they acknowledged that, accepted those beings as what they are and perhaps even admitted they had worth... well... Rather like realizing abruptly that you've spent a whole day without thinking of someone recently departed, it feels like a betrayal.

To find value in the worlds as they currently are, to turn away from the duty they were asked to uphold, to choose to lay down the memories of the past are all, in essence, choices the Ascians will not make because to do so would be to let go of what's lost, to move into the acceptance of grief and that can feel like betraying those whose memories are slowly fading.

Emet-Selch's end--"Remember us."--is directly tied to his refusal to forget. To let himself have even one day without hoping for an eventuality that's highly unlikely regardless of effort, without remembering the Sundering and the Final Days. He remembered, forcefully and tenaciously, and wishes that legacy to live beyond him.

While Elidibus, in remembering, unable to deny failure any longer, finally expresses grief and loss. "My people. My brothers. ...My friends. Stay strong. Keep the faith. At duty's end, we will meet again. We will. We will. The rains have ceased, and we have been graced with another beautiful day. But you are not here to see it."

And coming from villains, quite specifically from villains that have been largely indistinct "puppet master" figures throughout the previous expansions, these story arcs were a punch to the gut. (Yes, I had to pause writing this to cry helplessly over Elidibus again because my gods, that last line just...) Villains are at their best in fiction when they're relatable. When it's so very easy to see that thin line between villain and hero.

Faced with the loss of everything you'd ever loved, with the faintest possibility of getting it back, what would you do? What wouldn't you do? Yes, the Ascians did terrible things and that's undeniable. Stopping them was necessary to save hundreds of thousands of lives. And doing so, being victorious, didn't feel like a victory and that is such a rare, rare thing in media. The Warrior of Light does the right thing, but in doing so, must face the fact that those they've been fighting have hopes and dreams and feelings and pain as real and as motivating as theirs.

And Shadowbringers does such an impressive job of turning those standard tropes around. Heroes are a dime a dozen because if you just awaken them, as Elidibus did with the starshower, well, there can be dozens of Warriors running around. Villains have heart-wrenching motivations and relatable reasons for their goals. History is multi-faceted and no one person knows what the "truth" truly is. Grief can spur people to helping others (i.e. the tank Role Quest ending) or it can fester and go unhealed and create nothing but more destruction.

There is so much that Shadowbringers did beautifully, I don't have the time to touch on all of it. The lack of "breaking the flawed system fixes everything" trope following Eulmore's liberation from Vauthry and the struggles that Eulmore faces in trying to build a functional, working social order for themselves. Embracing the value of childish dreams and tending to the smallest, most overlooked victims of trauma with the Pixie Tribal Quests. Dealing with a commander whose soldiers died and seeing Lyna's survivor's guilt. Seeing how having a single, unified goal can inspire and rally people into putting differences aside and helping each other.

Shadowbringers has finally ended with Patch 5.55. The story on the First ended with Patch 5.3. And all I can say is that this is a game that I will never forget.

#Shadowbringers #FFXIV #OOC #Yes I had A Lot of Thoughts

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