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patchofsunlight · 4 years

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Warmth | Zuko x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Avatar!Reader AU | Zuko has made many mistakes and holds uncountable regrets, but maybe Y/N can still love him back. Spoiler: she does.

REQUEST (by anon): “Could you do a zuko with maybe a f! avatar? Him falling in love with her like how they joked in ember island play. And him being tormented when she 'dies' in cross roads and them having some tender moment of confessing either in the western temple or ember island? maybe the play has the kiss and he confesses idk”

WORD COUNT: 5.3k

WARNINGS: Y/N is the Avatar, so Aang doesn’t exist. kissing, there might be swear words but I don’t really remember, bad editing. lots of mutual pining and some angst. I don’t know if I did this request justice but I really tried?

OBSERVATIONS: there’s a bit of Sokka x Reader bc I’m a weak woman but in the end he’s the main Zuko and Y/N shipper. not having Aang seriously hurt me. I wrote most of the Zuko sad rant in the beginning listening to Words Fail by Ben Platt and I think it would be interesting if you guys listened to that while reading? idk

I hope you all like it!!! feedback is always appreciated, so keep that in mind and thank you very much for reading!!

There was a hole inside his chest that Zuko simply couldn’t get rid of. It hurt him to his core, bringing pained sobs to the edge of his throat and slowly dismantling his soul.

He always thought getting rid of Y/N would quench his anger, rebuild his honor and complete his destiny. Now, his father accepted him again, Mai was his girlfriend, and Azula treated him like a true brother, in her own deranged ways. The Fire Nation considered him a hero, the man who killed the Avatar.

Then why did it trouble him so much? Why did he wake up every night in a cold sweat, with tears stinging his eyes? Why did he have the same nightmare over and over where he was the one responsible for her death, hitting her with lightning and watching as the light inside her disappeared, leaving behind only her idle body and Katara’s desperate cries? Why couldn’t he be satisfied? He had fulfilled his fate. He had done what he was meant to do, sided with his people, and fought against his greatest enemy. Why wasn’t he happy? Why couldn’t he ever be happy?

Back in Ba Sing Se, he saw her at the Jasmine Dragon more than once. He couldn’t believe his eyes when she first entered the teashop, and he was pretty sure she had recognized him, but Y/N managed to send a polite smile in his direction and sit down, greeting “Mushi” with joy. When Zuko served her tea, she asked him what his name was as if she didn’t know. She didn’t confront nor attack him — she simply let him live his new life and went on living hers. It felt like she had washed off his sins, erased the bloodstains he carried in his soul and hands. Y/N freed him of his past and he had thrown it all away.

It was the right thing to do, he had told himself day after day after day. Except it wasn’t, and now Iroh refused to talk to him and the Avatar was probably dead and, in the case she wasn’t, she would never forgive him. She wouldn’t let him be free of himself again and he would never get redemption for his mistakes.

He wished he could go back in time and fight alongside Y/N in that crystal cave, wished he could live up to the trust Katara offered him before they were saved, wished he could have stopped Azula from throwing that lightning bolt. He wished he could do things in the right way, yet he couldn’t. Zuko tried so hard to regain his so-called honor and to bring his father pride but his only real achievement was engulfing himself in guilt and regret, being aware that powerful and forgiving Y/N could be dead because of his lack of dignity and character — this couldn’t be honor. Violence, betrayal, death, and hurt couldn’t be honor, and he wasn’t sure he wanted his father’s pride if it meant feeling like this, like he was no good, like he was not worthy of love or praise or admiration.

Zuko had spent a great part of his life hating himself, but nothing compared to the hate he felt every night after waking up from another crushing nightmare. How dared he make this about himself and his feelings of guilt when the Avatar could be dead? How dared he worry about the Fire Lord’s pride when the world’s last hope was gone? How dared he indulge in self-pity after all he had done? He didn’t deserve pity, didn’t deserve help, he only deserved to wallow in his own pain and die. But that wouldn’t fix anything, neither would it bring Y/N back — he had to act, and he had to do it fast.

Going after Team Avatar was not difficult. He thought he would feel complicated like he had when first betraying Y/N’s trust, thought it would hurt like coming back to the Fire Nation did. Thankfully, leaving only caused a new type of satisfaction to bloom inside his chest, giving him the sensation he was finally walking through the right path. Hope seemed to pour out of every pore in his body and he could somehow think of better, future days when he would have done enough to make up for his mistakes, days when he didn’t feel the urge to scream every time he looked at a mirror. Maybe then he wouldn’t have to despise himself like he currently did, maybe things would be okay and he would be truly happy, if that was even something he had the capability to do.

But then they didn’t want him. He left everything behind, he charged every inch of his hope with the idea of joining the Avatar, and they didn’t want him. Why would they? Why would they, after everything he had done? How could he have even considered they would accept him, that she would trust him again? Of course they didn’t want him. No one did and no one ever would and that was entirely his fault — it was his fault that he was a bad person, took the wrong decisions, and caused pain and destruction. It was his fault he never did the right thing and he should’ve known he would be rejected again, for being rejected was just what he deserved.

But it still hurt. Oh, Spirits, it hurt. She couldn’t even look at him, even after he helped them defeat Combustion Man and was finally accepted in the group. Sadly, it made Zuko realize that, no matter where he stood, he would never be a part of their team, and Y/N would never trust him entirely. For some reason, that was more upsetting than their rejection. He wanted to impress her, wanted her to like him, and she never would.

“Y/N? Can I—can I come in?”

The Avatar looked up from the map she was currently analysing on her bed, studying his figure carefully before nodding with hesitance, “yes. Do you need something?”

He sighed deeply and walked towards her, feeling his heart crack when she brought her legs closer to her body and away from him the moment he sat on the edge of the bed, “I—I just wanted to talk to you about, well, you know, everything.”

Her expression hardened and she averted her eyes back to the map, “we have nothing to talk about, Zuko. You can go back to your room.”

The Fire Nation Prince swallowed nervously, “Y/N, please. I’m so, so sorry. I have made so many mistakes, I—”

“Zuko,” her voice was firm and emotionless, but that quickly changed when she met his gaze, “I thought things could be different. I thought things could be different back in the North Pole, when we first talked to each other and you told me about Azula. I thought things could be different when you saved me as the Blue Spirit. And I was so convinced things would be different when we met again in Ba Sing Se that I—” she scoffed at her own words, “I had a crush on you, can you believe that? That’s why I visited the teashop so regularly, I just wanted to see you. Stupid, of course. I should’ve known.”

Zuko was sure she could hear his anxious heart beating from the other side of the bed. They were less than a foot away, and yet it felt like miles. He didn’t want her to think about him like that, he didn’t want her to be disappointed in him. Damn, she used to have a crush on him, she liked him, and he screwed everything up like usual. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m—I’m here now, I’m on your side.”

“Yeah, but I thought you were on my side back then too. Anyway, it doesn’t matter anymore. You need to teach me firebending and that’s the only reason you’re allowed here. Talking is unnecessary.”

“Please, I—”

“You should leave, Prince Zuko,” he flinched at the title escaping her lips, hating how it sounded bitter coming from her, “I have really important matters to deal with. We’ll start my firebending training tomorrow.”

“Y/N—”

“Leave, Zuko.”

With a heaviness inside his stomach, he left the room, missing if by a second the frustrated tear that ran down Y/N’s cheek. She wanted to trust him, but how could she? How could she let him in after his betrayal? She had always been forgiving, but she refused to be naive — seeing Zuko side with Azula in the crystal caves hurt her deeply and shoved her little crush on him down her throat. She couldn’t go through that again, it would be simply idiotic to. Y/N had to stand her ground. She wouldn’t be hurt by him again.

-----

“Hey, jerks. Mind if I watch you two jerks do your jerkbending?”

“Get out of—” Zuko was interrupted by the Avatar’s laughter. Sokka smiled softly at her, cheeks blushing. For some reason, that only managed to piss Zuko off even more, “get out of here!”

“Okay, take it easy. I was just kidding around,” the Water Tribe boy winked at Y/N, “see you later?”

“Sure, we still need to see that part of the temple we found yesterday. Exploration partners!”

“Exploration partners!” he agreed with a chuckle and turned away from them. “Bye, Y/N. Jerkbending… Still got it.”

Zuko glanced at her with irritation while she watched Sokka leave. He felt already incredibly frustrated for not being able to produce his fire and not knowing why, he definitely did not need to watch as Sokka and Y/N flirted.

They would make a cute couple, though, and she smiled so brightly at him it was physically painful to watch. He wanted her to smile like that at him, look like that at him. But she wouldn’t — she was over her crush and had no reason to ever feel anything towards him again, not after what he had done. He didn’t deserve her love anyway, so maybe it was for the best.

“So? Any progress, Sifu Hotman?”

“I told you not to call me that,” he snarled angrily and she sighed.

“Sorry, Sifu Hotman.”

“This was a mistake,” he sat down roughly, ignoring the ache on his legs due to the sudden movement, “maybe teaching you firebending is not my destiny.”

She looked at him with furrowed eyebrows, not understanding, “what do you mean?”

“How can I teach you anything when I’ve lost my fire, Y/N?” he chuckled sadly, letting one of his hands go through his hair in distress. “I wanted to be on the good side of the war and I can’t even make myself useful.”

“You haven’t lost your fire, Zuko,” her voice was careful, “I think you’re just going through some internal conflict and that’s reflecting on your bending, but if you were meant to teach me firebending, you will. Your destiny is still your destiny regardless, Sifu Hotman.”

“It’s easy for you to say, you’re the Avatar! I’m not even sure who I am anymore, but you have always known what your destiny was.”

“Yeah, and I was scared of it,” she smiled softly, “I ran away and disappeared for a hundred years. People died because of my absence. I have made mistakes, and I have failed many, many times. Sadly, that doesn’t make me less of an Avatar. Zuko, if you must be my teacher, it’s gonna work. We’ll figure things out and you will get your fire back. Okay?”

He stared inside her eyes. There was still some sort of mistrust in them — she was willing to help him because she needed him, but still suspicious. She wasn’t really sure he was on their side, but this was a start. He was going to fix everything and he would make her proud. He would make Y/N happy to call him a friend. Or something more.

Maybe he had a crush on her, too.

-----

Toph’s idea to look for the original source of firebending had greatly backfired (no pun intended, even though Y/N could clearly hear Sokka’s laughter in her head at the joke). They traveled to the Sun Warriors’ ancient city and found an impressive temple adorned with statues. Things were going surprisingly well until they weren’t, and now they were stuck in a disgusting glue because Zuko touched the pretty gemstone. Hours had passed and Y/N was increasingly more annoyed at their situation.

“You had to pick up the glowing egg, didn’t you?”

“At least I made something happen! If it were up to you, we’d never have made it past the courtyard.”

“Maybe, but we wouldn’t be stuck here either, so did you really win?”

Zuko rolled his eyes, “this is stupid. How are we getting out of here?”

“Help!” the girl screamed as loudly as she could, being met with only silence.

“Who are you yelling to? Nobody’s lived here for centuries,” the Fire Prince argued and it was Y/N’s turn to roll her eyes.

“Well, what do you think we should do, genius?”

“Think about our place in the universe?”

Despite her current irritation, Y/N couldn’t help but smile at his words. He instinctively smiled back and she felt warmth spread through her chest.

She was starting to think she wasn’t as over her crush on him as she thought.

They were rescued by the Sun Warriors and judged by the last dragons, and Y/N was sure she hadn’t felt this alive in a while. After burning Katara (it was so long ago it seemed like a different life), she had thought of fire as something destructive, harmful, but she could now see it with new eyes. Fire could be love, life, and power.

The Avatar glanced at Zuko. Maybe she could try and see him as that, too.

-----

“You did well today,” Zuko complimented warily, avoiding her gaze, “if we keep up the training, you might become a better firebender than me.”

“Why, thank you, Hotman,” she smiled brightly and Zuko was sure he could pass out right there, “I just have a great teacher.”

“Y/N!”

The Avatar felt Sokka before she saw him, laughing at the way he hugged her from behind joyfully, leaning his chin on her shoulder. “Hey, honey. What’s up?”

“Doing fine,” he mumbled, brushing her hair off his face delicately, “wanna grab something to eat?”

“I think I’m gonna train some more and clean myself later. I’ll meet you after?”

“Sure! I’ll be back inside. See you, Y/N, Zuko.”

They both watched as the Water Tribe boy entered the temple again. There was a weird burning sensation running through Zuko’s blood when he asked, voice slightly raspy and overly quiet, “so, you and Sokka, huh? You make a nice couple.”

She turned her head to him so quickly it almost gave her whiplash, “what? No! I mean—” she blushed at the question, flustered by the fact he would even consider something like that. The Fire Prince waited silently, irritation surfacing at her stammering. He wasn’t sure why that angered him so much, but he decided to be still and listen, “we are just friends,” she concluded, “he means a lot to me, but so do Katara and Toph, you know? We are—we are just friends. He even likes that Kyoshi Warrior, Suki! So, yeah, we are definitely not a couple.”

“I see,” Zuko felt curiously static with that piece of information, “and you don’t have feelings for him?”

“No, of course not. I mean, I had a thing for him when we first met, but now it’s gone. He’s my best friend and I love him, just not like that.”

“Okay. Good.”

“Good?” Y/N turned her head to the side in confusion and he paled considerably, finally noticing the meaning of his own words. “Why is that good?”

“Oh? I—it’s good that you love him! Yeah, having friends is amazing, right? Yeah.”

She smiled amusingly, “it truly is.”

“Yeah.”

The Avatar chuckled lightly, “come on, Sifu Hotman. Let’s do that leg movement again, I think I’m not doing it right.”

Days passed and a lot of things happened. Zuko knew Y/N wouldn’t be happy with Sokka’s suicide mission, but he couldn’t let him do it alone, so he accompanied him to the Boiling Rock. Again, she wasn’t happy when he followed Katara for revenge for her mother’s death, but then at least someone had Katara’s back and was ready to protect her. He desperately wanted to earn Y/N’s trust and friendship, but that was rather difficult when he insisted on doing the stuff she didn’t want him to do.

They continued their training on Ember Island and the whole Team seemed to thoroughly enjoy the place. Y/N was giving her all to learn firebending and was succeeding splendidly. To be honest, Zuko loved to see her get the moves right — every single time she made it, she would look at him with bright eyes and grin. It was the most beautiful sight Zuko had ever seen and he would do anything to have it permanently engraved in his mind.

They stayed up late during one particular night. They were both exhausted after hours of training and ended up sat beside each other on the ground on the back of the Fire Nation Royal Family’s beach house. The air between them was filled with silence and heavy breathing from their previous effort.

“Hey, Zuko?” after a few moments, Y/N called him gently, voice tired and raspy giving him chills. She laid down and stared at the dark sky. “Look at the stars with me.”

He blinked, “really? I mean, shouldn’t we go inside?”

“Please?” her eyes met his and his heart skipped a beat. “Just for a bit.”

“Okay,” Zuko whispered, lying down next to her. They looked at the sky quietly for a bit.

He liked to be around her. It could be the Avatar thing, but Y/N had a calming aura around her that was just unmissable. Being next to her like this gave him the feeling things would be alright, the feeling he was not worthless. It was a lie, of course. There was no way to know how their plans would go, and he was pretty much worthless.

But being beside her was enough to trick his mind. Maybe the little crush he harbored towards her had become something more — Spirits, he liked her so much. Not that it mattered, considering there was no way she would ever love him back, not after everything he had done.

“When I was younger, I believed we became stars when we died.”

He turned his head to look at her, “really?”

She turned to look back and his breath hitched at their close proximity. She chuckled, “yeah. I didn’t even know I was the Avatar back then, I was so young. They told me when I was sixteen, and I ran away shortly after,” there was bitterness to her words, “like a coward.”

“You are not a coward, Y/N. You had no way of knowing how things would go.”

“You really think so?”

“I do. Besides, if you hadn’t run away, you wouldn’t have been stuck on ice for a hundred years, and I would never have met you, which would be awful,” he widened his eyes, completing quickly, “and Sokka, Katara, and Toph, too. I wouldn’t have met them either. Of course.”

Her smile was so pretty he forgot how to breathe, “you’re right, Zuko. I don’t think I would have liked to live a life where I never met you,” she smirked before going on with teasing eyes, “and Sokka, Katara, and Toph, too. Of course.”

“Of course,” he agreed with a blush on his face. They stared at each other carefully and Zuko was pretty sure his heart was performing a professional routine of somersaults inside his body. He definitely was past just a simple crush.

Y/N smiled that dazzling smile of hers before averting her gaze to the stars again and yawning. “We should go in.”

“We should,” the Fire Prince immediately started to sit up, but she held him down with a hand to his chest, and probably felt his crazy heartbeat under her fingers.

“Just a bit more, Prince Zuko,” she whispered, eyes trained to the sky. Slowly but surely, she moved her hand from his chest to his own hand, creating goosebumps on every inch of skin she lightly touched on the way there. Zuko could feel his body burn at the barely-there feeling of her fingertips. She intertwined her fingers with his carefully, giving him the chance to pull away if he so wished. He let out a shaky breath and squeezed her hand. She immediately squeezed his back in reassurance.

In the middle of the quiet and comfort they suddenly found in each other, they fell asleep under the stars, fingers playing with each other until exhaustion finally engulfed them in dreams of pretty smiles and light touches.

It was nice to dodge the nightmares.

-----

“I’ve heard you and Zuko slept outside today,” Sokka had a teasing tone to his voice. Y/N glared at him, “you are together now or something?”

“We are not,” she countered, scratching Appa while they talked. Zuko, Toph, Katara, and Suki had left for the beach already. Y/N still needed to feed her sky bison and Sokka offered to help with the excuse of being a good friend. The Avatar was absolutely sure that wasn’t the real reason he stayed back alongside her and he was currently proving her right, “we were just stargazing and then fell asleep.”

“Stargazing, huh? Real cute. I bet it was an endearing impromptu date, wasn’t it?”

“Since when do you even know the word impromptu?”

“I am always full of surprises.”

“Right,” she rolled her eyes and he laughed loudly, “it was not a date.”

“But you do like him, right?.”

“What?” she turned her entire body to him, furrowing her brows and crossing her arms in a defensive stance. “Why would you say that?”

“Because I know you better than you know yourself and I can tell you have feelings for him,” Sokka copied her movements, staring at her with a smirk, “I also know he likes you back.”

Y/N scoffed and transferred her attention back to Appa, “he does not.”

“So you admit you like him!”

“Shut up, Sokka!” she glared, but quickly gave up under his intense eyes and raised brows. “Yeah, I like him. It doesn’t matter, though.”

“Yes, it does! He feels the same! Look, what about this,” he leaned in closer, that crazy look he had whenever making up a plan taking over his face, “we are going to watch that play about us tonight, right? Well, you guys can sit next to each other! Like a couple!”

“That’s a terrible idea, honey.”

“It’s not! I bet he’s gonna make a move!”

“He won’t, because he’s not in love with me.”

“Wait, you’re in love with him?”

Y/N’s entire body tensed up. She shouldn’t have said that. She wasn’t in love with Zuko! Was she? I mean, she did love to be beside him, and her heart sped up when he gave her one of his rare smiles, and training with him when he had his shirt off was distracting to say the least. Besides, he really seemed to have changed and grown — she felt like she could trust him again, but she could never be sure, and she was adamant on not getting hurt once more. Especially now, when she was dealing with so many things. If he betrayed her a second time… Spirits, it would be just too much to handle.

“I don’t know,” she muttered and Sokka’s cheeky smile faltered, “I don’t want to be.”

He stretched an arm out to hold her hand fondly, “it’s fine, Y/N. Whatever happens, I’m here for you, okay?”

The Avatar smiled sadly, “thank you, Sokka. I’m really glad to have you in my life.”

“I know, honey. I’m great like that.”

She laughed loudly and he grinned in satisfaction, turning her body around and starting to lead her towards the beach, an arm through her shoulders holding her close to his body.

“Shut up, Sokka. You’re so stupid.”

“Yeah, yeah. I love you too.”

Zuko felt a pang to his chest when Sokka and Y/N arrived at the beach holding each other so dearly, but he knew he had no right to complain. She would be better off with Sokka anyway — he was good-looking, nice, funny, smart. Meanwhile, Zuko was nothing but a sad mixture of mistakes and regrets. The Avatar deserved more than that.

“Hey, Hotman,” she walked to him with a smile, planting a kiss on Sokka’s cheek before leaving his side. “Why are you all alone on the sand?”

“Because he’s boring,” Toph answered from some feet away and Katara chuckled. Zuko could feel his face redden.

“He is not,” Y/N argued amusingly, sitting down beside him and grinning. She glanced at him with a happy spark in her eyes, “are you excited for the play tonight?”

“No,” he muttered, but his lack of vivacity didn’t bother her in the slightest, “the Ember Island plays are always ridiculous.”

“I think it’s going to be fun,” she shrugged contently, basking in the hot sun, “if it isn’t, we can always throw food at the stage or whatever.”

He tried really hard, but couldn’t bit back the smile that took over his frown. He watched her attentively, noticing how she seemed to glow in the daylight, giving off this incredible warmth he had only ever seen on her. He averted away his gaze, feeling his neck and face heat up at how unapologetically beautiful she was.

Zuko cleared his throat quietly, “yeah, I guess.”

She only smirked in response.

-----

The play could be worse, he figured. Yes, their portrayal of him was horrible (even though his friends — could he call them friends? Were they friends? He hoped they were — said otherwise) and the actress playing Y/N was not nearly as pretty as the Avatar really was, but Y/N was next to him and, at some point, she had leaned her head on his shoulder tiredly and stayed there. All the training was getting to her and he felt inexplicable joy in the fact she trusted him enough to rest her body on his.

“Look,” her voice was raspy from sleepiness and a chill ran down his spine, “I think now is when you join Team Avatar and becomes our friend.”

He nodded carefully not to disturb her from her position and his heart skipped a beat when she nuzzled closer to his neck. Zuko watched as actor Zuko was accepted into the group and just after a scene with only him and actress Y/N started. Actor Zuko stared at the actress longingly, “my dear Y/N… I know I have wronged you in many ways, but I wanted to apologize for my mistakes and beg for your forgiveness!”

Y/N giggled at that, nudging him affectionately, “that really happened.”

He smiled, eyes following the performers on stage. Actor Zuko continued, “your forgiveness… And maybe your love, Avatar.”

They both immediately tensed up at the words and Y/N moved her head slightly, brows furrowing in confusion.

“My love, Prince Zuko?”

“Yes, my darling.”

They all watched as Actor Zuko and Actress Y/N kissed passionately, earning cheers from the audience. Sokka whistled loudly and Y/N turned to glare at him, receiving a wink in return.

“I have been in love with you since we first met!” Actor Zuko declared excitedly, holding Actress Y/N’s hands. “You are the only one who can make me forget about my teen angst. I love you, Y/N.”

“Well… I don’t!” Actress Y/N moved away swiftly and the crowd gasped in surprise. “I have accepted you in my group, Prince Zuko… But I’ll never accept you in my heart! You’re a bad person that doesn’t deserve my love!”

“What?!” Sokka almost screamed in disbelief. Y/N finally took her head off Zuko’s shoulder, incertitude swimming in her eyes. Before she had the chance to speak, Zuko had already left. The Water Tribe boy widened his eyes at her. “Go after him!”

Y/N nodded her head, getting out of her seat and walking after Zuko, calling his name. He ignored her, feeling anger boil inside him. He knew she would never directly say something like that, but he also knew it was true. She would never love him — he wasn’t worthy of her love, and he was pretty sure she was aware of that too.

“Zuko, wait!” she finally catched up to him, holding his arm and pulling him back. “It’s just a stupid play, Zuko. None of that is true.”

“Really, Y/N?” he turned to stare at her, rage covering his expression. “Because I’m almost certain it is. They said I don’t deserve love, Y/N, and that’s true. After everything I’ve done…”

“No!” she exclaimed desperately, shaking her head vehemently in disagreement. “Zuko, of course you deserve love. Yes, you have made mistakes, but all of us have. You shouldn’t care about what some actress says.”

“But they’re right, Y/N,” he insisted, feeling tears stinging his eyes, “I’m unworthy of love and everyone knows, and that’s why nobody actually loves me.”

“I love you!” she yelled out before she could stop herself, breath hitching at the troubled look taking over his face. Y/N sighed deeply, crossing her arms shyly and looking away, “I do,” her voice was small as she blushed, “I thought I was over my little crush for you but I wasn’t, and it’s—it’s much more than a little crush. I was afraid of admitting it but I know who you are, Zuko. You are loyal and smart and so inherently good and I love you. Spirits, I really do.”

He stared at her for a second, processing her words. She fidgeted anxiously and he smiled at all her small manners. With certainty to his movements, Zuko took a step forwards and cradled her face in his hands. He studied every inch of her expression, waiting for some kind of rejection. She offered him a hopeful smile and he was quick to smash his lips with hers, feeling the warmth that always surrounded her consume him entirely. He kissed her passionately, happiness pouring out of him — the words “she loves you” echoing inside his mind like a broken record, filling his heart with joy.

She moved away when there was no more air in her lungs, breathing heavily and grinning like a mad woman. Y/N lifted her arm and touched his scar so fondly it physically hurt. Never before had he been touched with such care and it made tears flood his eyes, something she instantly noticed, giggling at his cuteness and drying one running tear with her thumb. She felt like her chest was full. He kissed her thumb lovingly when it rested near his mouth.

She loved him. She thought he was worthy of love, of her love, even after everything he had done. No matter how many mistakes he had made, she still loved him, and that thought was enough to make Zuko feel some sort of hope towards the future.

Spirits, she really loved him.

“I love you too, Y/N. Very, very much.”

is it good? not really. could it be worse? yeah lmao

taglist: @bottledcostcowater @lammello @coldlilheart @azucanela @samsmultifandomblogs and @knaite-solo that asked to be tagged on this particular piece

thank you all for reading!! I hope you liked it!!

#zuko x reader #zuko x fem!reader #zuko x f!reader #sokka x reader #atla x reader #atla #avatar the last airbender #avatar the last airbender x reader #zuko #sokka #avatar #avatar!reader #avatar reader #ember island #the ember island players #requested

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we-are-inevitable · 3 years

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guys oh my GOD i just found my newsies rants from the first BIG night of my hyperfixation and. hng. there's so much good content in here

*messages copy and pasted under the cut!

NOTE: all of these messages are from April 19, 2020- the first day of my newsies hyperfixation!

listen racetrack and crutchie are some of my babes and i fucking love them

BEN TYLER COOK IS THE ONLY VALID RACETRACK AND I DESPERATELY NEED THEM TO REDO THE CAST ALBUM TO GIVE HIM THE SPOTLIGHT HE DESERVES

I CANT LISTEN TO KING OF NEW YORK ANYMORE BECAUSE. IT ISNT RACE. dont get me wrong racetrack from the soundtrack is like. really good but he ain't livesies racetrack good

also everyone ships race and spot which is valid but idk I just feel like race and albert have more in common?? like. spot is a great character and all of the Brooklyn Newsies deserve so much more screentime and so much more content but i just feel like the only reason people like race × spot is because of the Inner-Bourough Relations and the territorial stuff (bc the brooklyn bois are pretty spooky) but race × albert is so much cuter ?? like they're both Manhattan newsies and they share a lot more screentime and they have a lot more in common and like !! their interactions throughout King of New York makes me cry so hard i love them so much

something is telling me that if i dont learn All Of The Newsies by tomorrow i'm gonna scream

so i think later today i'm gonna rewatch livesies, then watch 92sies, then make myself a google slides presentation with a pic of each newsie and their name so i can figure this shit out

JACK AND CRUTCHIE ARE BROTHERS BUT WE STILL STAN THAT JACK/RACETRACK DYNAMIC

if anyone tries to tell me that racetrack ain't Jack's #2 Dude i WILL bite i dont care

like??? we literally see race kinda take charge after the bulls bust up their strike and jack fucks off to be Emo On The Rooftop (which is still valid and i love him for it) but race steps in and lifts everyone's spirits again and god i love him for it

it's real "Loving Racetrack Higgins Hours"

OH OH OKAY SO THE EMO ROOFTOP SCENE

LIKE. FUCK. people kinda got on Jack's case for leaving after the big fight breaks out and the bulls take Crutchie, but what else can he do? jack is 17. he's scared. he's dealing with his own trauma after what happened to him at The Refuge (which is never explicitly stated, but his reaction leads me to believe there was definitely some kind of ab•se (and its canon that the officers at the refuge don't feed the kids as they should)). he's seen as the tough guy, as the leader, as the father figure for all of the newsies, but he's a kid. he put his life on the line for them, but that's too much responsibility for a teenager.

jack got thrown in the refuge- a jail for kids- because he stole food and clothing for the other boys. he did everything he did for everyone else, without ever taking his own feelings into consideration; it was never a case of "what's in it for me?", it was always "will this help the guys i love?" and that is Jack's biggest quality i think.

anyway- so, he disappears after the fight because he's guilty. he watch his best friend- no, his brother- get taken by the bulls and watched the others he loves get hurt, and he couldn't stop it. again, this is a 17 year old we're talking about. his whole Santa Fe scene is the most pivotal part of the show in my opinion? like- we see Jack having a breakdown, essentially. "just be real is all i'm askin', not some paintin' in my head" is such a painful line because he's holding onto the hope that somewhere he's never seen is good enough to risk leaving his life behind for, and we see the struggles between wanting to stay and help his friends and wanting to get out and live and be able to have a life where he doesn't have to live with such a huge responsibility on his shoulders.

ALSO THE WHOLE THING WITH THE GUYS THINKING JACK IS A SELLOUT BECAUSE HE GOT MONEY FOR TRYING TO CONVINCE THE NEWSIES NOT TO CONTINUE THE STRIKE HURTS MY HEART

like Pulitzer basically said "if you don't tell them to stop this, i'll personally make sure all of them end up in the refuge" and even used Davey as a plot device, since Davey is one of the few that has folks and a little brother, and Pulitzer essentially said "you wouldn't want your pal Davey getting separated from his family, would you?"

Jack believed in the Strike, and he believed in the Newsies, but he couldn't handle the risk of more of his family getting beaten and thrown into The Refuge, and it kills me to see that he couldn't tell the others why he suddenly had a "change of heart", and that they all think that jw just gave up on them until they realize later on that Pulitzer manipulated him right where it hurt most

I HAVE SO MANY FEELINGS ABOUT NEWSIES AND NO ONE TO TALK ABOUT IT WITH SO UH,, IM SORRY YOU GUYS GET THE SHORT END OF THE STICK

listen i could write an entire essay over Santa Fe and i love that song and it's just such an iconic "I Want" song and !!! fuck !!!!!! it's so sad but it bops!!!!!

"folks are fightin, bleedin, fallin, thanks to good old Captain Jack! Captain Jack just wants to close his eyes and GO"

and then theres a really long pause and his voice cracks and the next line just ?? hurts me ??

"let me go, far away, somewhere they won't never find me, and tomorrow won't remind me of today"

HE'S SO SAD AND STRESSED AND HURT AND GUILTY AND JUST WANTS TO LEAVE THE SITUATION TO PREVENT ANYMORE BAD THINFS FROM HAPPENING ADN I JUST WISH I COULD HUG HIM

i just realized ive been ranting for 30 minutes i love u all goodnight

#jac txt.#newsies #discord rants

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novannna · 3 years

Note

⭐️?

ty for the ask dt!!!

hmm i really like what i did with this section from my nobell pirate au

"...Nova’s grin widened. “Guilty as charged.” She noticed the other king’s still body. “A little scuffle?”

“Something like that,” the crown prince cut in. “What do you want?”

“From you?” Nothing.” Nova laughed. “Bind everyone’s hands, and feet if you can,” Nova barked to her crew. “We don’t want anyone running off, do we?” She raised her pistol and fired a shot. It struck the wood right next to a woman attempting to sneak away down below. She screamed, and dropped to the ground, shaking.

“What do you mean you want nothing from us?” the prince asked. “Why are you here?”

Nova grabbed his hands roughly, and wrapped a rope around them.

“The world isn’t all about you, sweetheart. And you should be thanking me,” she grinned.

“What do you mean,” he demanded.

“You don’t have to rule anymore. You’ll never bear the burden of the crown. So… You’re welcome!” Nova laughed brightly, and threw him down to the floor. He grunted, and tried to rise up, but Nova placed her booted foot on her chest, pushing him back down.

“Now, where’s the dear bride? I have to greet both sides of the couple.”

“Here,” a quiet voice said.

Nova stalked towards the source, grinning as people flinched away so quickly they toppled over. Oh, how she loved being feared. The rush of power she got. It made Nova full. It reminded her of how far she had come. She wasn’t a helpless little girl anymore. She had come far. She had done things that were once considered impossible.

Nova Jean Artino was the most feared person to ever sail the seas, and she had done it all on her own.

She was the pirate Nightmare. And they should fear her.

Especially this small, quivering white clad figure before her.

“So,” Nova said, her voice cutting across the quiet deck. “You’re the girl the prince chose to wed.” Nova smirked. “And who is the lucky lady?”

“You know, I’m hurt you don’t recognize me,” the voice said. It was low, and achingly familiar.

Nova raised her eyebrows. “Should I? You know I meet a lot of women and-” she stopped talking suddenly. The girl raised her head, and met Nova’s eyes with her own. The dark amber stared at her. Soft brown skin, and artfully arranged blonde dreadlocks.

“Hello, Nova,” Danna said softly.

Nova felt her breath catch in her throat. Danna was striking in her wedding dress. Her wedding dress . Danna was marrying the prince. Her Danna. Her Danna was throwing her freedom away.

“Hello, Danna,” Nova said, struggling to get the words out. “Sorry to interrupt the happy occasion.”

Danna scoffed. “I should thank you. Nothing about this is happy.”

Nova tried to smirk. “Then, your welcome, milady .” She sank into a deep curtsy.

“Nova, what are you doing here?” Danna asked.

What was Nova doing here? Just the glance of Danna was enough to knock her off her pedestal. She lost sight of her goals. Lost sight of her past. Forgot everything but the girl next to her. Danna’s very breath was poisonous. She slipped into the cracks in Nova’s body, and took hold of her. She made Nova forget who she was.

Danna was deadly, and Nova was addicted to her.

That would not do.

“I’m doing my job.” Nova inhaled deeply, and looked away. “Tie her up, and put her with the others,” she barked to her crew. “I don’t have time for pleasantries, love,” she said to Danna. “Take her away.”

“Nova!” Danna screamed. “Stop, you have to listen to me!”

Nova paused. “Gag her too,” she responded. “I don’t have to listen to anyone. You listen to me.”

Nova drew her sword, and stalked down the deck, dragging the tip against the ground behind her.

“I am in charge here. You are all my prisoners. And luckily for you, I don’t care about your pitiful lives. So, if you behave, you can keep them. Am I clear?”

A hurried response of yes’s were quickly returned.

“Good.” Nova smiled. “Then, you will not say another word until my uncle is here.”

King Simon looked up quickly. “Uncle?”

Nova spun around, sword tip already at his throat. “Did you not hear a word I said?”

He flinched back.

“Good.” Nova smiled, teeth glinting. “Any other comments?” She asked, sheathing her sword.

No one responded.

“Excellent.” Nova laughed. “Don’t you just love weddings?”

ok so in the first few paragraphs, im just obssessed w nova being a smug little bitch, i love her, she's literally so cocky, its really fun to write. and like, so power hungry too, she's kinda relishing all the fear and pwoer she's possessing, and just how in control she is.

and then, she asks to meet the bride, and obviosuly doesnt know it's danna, and while its from nova's perspective, i was trying to show everything that danna was feeling too, i didnt do a great job, but it worked kinda.

and nova know's its someone familiar, but she wouldn't have guessed danna, because, it was her danna, and she wasn't able to ever imagine her with someone else (even if it was all fake) and nova knows danna doesn't love adrian, not like how nova loves her, she knows she was ready to throw her future away just like that, and she's so fucking angry, but also, she shouldn't care, but she does and its ahhh

ofc all the while nova is struggling to seem normal.

also, so so obssesed w this paragraph : "What was Nova doing here? Just the glance of Danna was enough to knock her off her pedestal. She lost sight of her goals. Lost sight of her past. Forgot everything but the girl next to her. Danna’s very breath was poisonous. She slipped into the cracks in Nova’s body, and took hold of her. She made Nova forget who she was.

Danna was deadly, and Nova was addicted to her."

i don't even know what commentary to add, just yeah... these bitches gay <333

and nova has to choose danna or her ambition, but she already made that choice, and now she has to make it again. And she does. Nova chose to secure her own future, and can't be around danna, because it hurts her to be near her, but not w her just yeah. ow </3 and she needs to act like the cold pirate she is while breaking apart inside and pain :)

yeah thats p much it idk, sorry that was long, people should go read the whole au, its not terrible writing crazily enough im so sorry if that didn't make sense im not at my best.

#dt tag #ty!#ask #ask game #this was v fun!#same sea same soul same heart #nobell #nova artino #danna bell #nova x danna #renegades

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pomegranates-and-blood · 4 years

Text

νοσταλγία (Chapter 2)

(Gif credit to @dangerousvikings)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader (eventual)

Summary: This is a retelling/romantization of the Greek myth of Persephone’s abduction with Ivar as Hades and you as Persephone. The Reader character is a Byzantine woman, follower of the Greek Pantheon/Religion, and a devoted follower of Persephone. This takes place after 5A, but the universe of this is a little changed in relation with the series, of course. Thank you for giving it a chance, hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: As usual, mentions and descriptions of blood, death, torture, injury and people being burnt alive. Mentions or allusions to rape. If there’s anything else I didn’t mention, please let me know. Fair warning that the Reader Character may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but please give her a chance.

A/N: After this chapter is up I’m gonna wait to see if anyone actually reads this lol, and then jsut stick to weekly uploads (maybe twice a week? idk). I would love to hear back from you if you’re reading this or you like it. Even if you don’t, I’d love to know how I can get better! Thank you for reading, and hope you enjoy!

You can feel his eyes on your face as he watches you, and the weight of his stare makes a strange warmth, a strange familiarity, curl at your chest and stomach. To distract yourself from such thoughts, you try offering him a smile.

“Good news, you won’t lose your hand,” You joke weakly, “By grace of…Eir, is it?”

His eyebrows lift, the surprise evident before he schools his features, “You know of the Gods?”

“Hmm,” You reply as you tear a piece of cloth to bandage the now clean wound. “I know of your Gods, but I follow my own.”

“And what do your Gods do?”

You frown at the strange question, but regardless answer honestly, “There’s many Gods, I was…born into the cult of the Gods of the Dead.”

“Born?” He asks, a frown in his own face that speaks of the irreverence of wanting to question your beliefs, but you do not take offense. Being raised by a follower of Freyja does take away the bite of talking about the Gods like they are nothing but tales.

“My mother was a woman of the Gods, and when she was to have me, she had a dream I was to be born in Eleusis, a city tied to the Goddess of Spring. During my naming ceremony, the Elders of the city said I was fated to be her follower.”

“What does the Goddess of Spring have to do with the Dead?”

You relay the same answer you were given as a child, when you were innocent and wide-eyed and in your mind she was only a Goddess of flowers and warmth. That you now know the truth of who Persephone is and who you are to be different is only a detail.

“In my home spring is tied to rebirth. Death and return to life.”

“You hesitated,” He notes, eyes narrowed. You think you catch a silver of genuine curiosity behind his mask, behind the taunts. “What’s the truth?”

Silently damning his blue eyes for the way they see your bones beneath and call out when you fail to be the Anassa your people need, you sigh.

“She lives by two realms; she is Goddess of Spring and Queen of the Dead.” You explain finally, shrugging your shoulders.

“Why not say it, then?”

“She was tricked into becoming the wife of the God of the Dead, many elders in my homeland think it an affront to recognize that title.” You explain, the words leaving a bad taste in your mouth. You take a sip from the cup of milk by your table to dispel it.

“But do you believe that?” The King asks, no tease or mirth on his voice. You are surprised, stunned into silence, and it may show in your expression, for he adds, “Answer me.”

“I…no, I don’t see it as an insult. When I was…when I was the Priestess in charge of rituals, I honored her descent as much as her rising. It was…frowned upon by the others.”

“Well, lucky for you, they are probably all dead now.” The Viking states dryly, but his words still manage to startle a laugh out of you.

You cover your traitorous mouth with your hand, eyes widened and internally chastising yourself for mocking the dead. Still, for a fleeting moment, the small but proud smile he bears at making you laugh makes the guilt lessen.

You lower your eyes to your finished work, even if you still keep your hold on the Viking’s hand. You let your mind drift as you look down, and when you blink yourself into attention, you find your treacherous fingers absently tracing around the edges of the bandage in his palm.

“I saw you,” He says suddenly, and you raise startled eyes to catch sight of his tongue peeking at his lower lip. Leaning even closer, he looks into your eyes like he did on that battlefield, like he can ignore everything and see the chaos underneath your skin, “In the battlefield, I saw you.”

“I know,” You whisper back, enthralled by his eyes that burn like Greek Fire, “Is that why you are here?”

He smiles, lowering his head a bit and looking to the side, a gesture that, if you didn’t know who you were talking to, you would confuse as a display of bashfulness.

But when he returns his gaze to you, you realize you were right. A faint blush covers his sun-kissed cheeks, and you find yourself smiling back, your heart rushing to a fast pace.

“Can you blame me?” He looks down at his now bandaged hand, and you follow his gaze to watch his hand close in a loose fist and open again. “I had to-…”

“To what?” You press when he stops his words, but the King seems to shake himself out of his stupor, and with a small shake of his head he returns more centered eyes to you.

“I have to go soon.” He states, but doesn’t move to leave, and neither do you, even as you reply quietly,

“So do I.”

“What is your name?”

You shake your head with a small laugh, “I don’t give away my name easily, I’m afraid.”

The Viking frowns at your words, affronted and stubborn, “Why not?”

“Would you desist if I asked you to trust a witch’s words?” You ask, although you already know the answer.

Standing up, you smile when you hear his simple response.

“No.”

You walk to the cloak you kept by the door, and turn around to face the King, who still sits closer to the candle light.

“Well, you will have to.”

“But you know who I am, why can’t I know who you are?”

“You know who I am, I am a Priestess of the Attic Greeks. And you are a Viking King from Norway,” You reply quietly, without hesitation. After a few breaths of silence, where your eyes and his meet, you add, “Names complicate things, make them real. And real things are dangerous things.”

There’s a reluctant smile on his lips as he says, “You are a strange woman, Priestess.”

“I have been called worse.” You shrug, taking advantage of the movement to put the thin cloak over your shoulders.

Turning around, you find his head slightly bowed down and his mouth curved in a smile your foolish, foolish heart clings to.

Lifting his gaze to yours again, he nods a goodbye, “Priestess."

You return the gesture, a smile of your own, “Viking.”

____

The Varangians granted Stithulf permission to take his dead within the walls to perform the proper rites, and for once you choose not to question your luck.

Pointed to an area near the walls, you walk to the piles of corpses, and you feel something within you break at the sight. It is not the lifeless bodies being thrown like animals in a heap, nor the smell of rust and death, or the lifeless eyes still looking up at the Gods for salvation.

It’s the blood.

The blood that still flows, albeit sluggishly, viscously. The blood that taints the ground with pain and death. The blood that coats your hands, even if you have not yet touched a single body.

When your stomach turns and you stumble to a stop, emptying your guts on the cold ground that silently weeps with the blood of your people, you can only hope Vikings and Saxons alike confuse your tears of pain with tears of weakness of a priestess sick with the sight of blood, and not a woman witness of the death of her people.

Because even if your heart refuses to believe so, there’s countless Greeks forgotten in some field somewhere, ambushed and assaulted for the choices you made, for the mistakes you made. And they won’t ever have the drachmas pressed in their eyes or hands so that they may cross to the Underworld, they won’t have even a handful of dirt covering their body so that the Dread Lord may welcome them in his home.

“Move them, take them away from the Christians,” You motion for one of the meek girls that in another life would have become a Hiereia like you. “I’ll sooner bite into the fruit of the dead before I let my people’s bodies rest alongside Christians’.”

A couple of Greeks are assisting in the funeral rites of the Greeks that perished, and as you oversee their work, you catch sight of Leofric, Stithulf’s trusted man, looking at you with nothing short of disgust in his eyes.

You try to hold his gaze, but the strange shine in his eyes makes you uncomfortable, like an invisible hand runs over your skin, and you lower your eyes, feeling shame choke you.

It is late in the evening when you are done with the rites, and you sit before a hearth tending and storing dried lavender.

“You heard what Stithulf did to the survivors.” Sieghild states, not even a question as she takes a seat next to you.

You nod, wondering faintly how a gesture so simple is supposed to explain it all. Your failures, your hopes, your guilt, your pain.

“It wasn’t Stithulf’s axe still embedded in Alexios’ skull, mother.” You point out, because anger is easier than pain, because wrath is easier than grief. Your eyes go to your mother and the sight of the pendant with the Troll Cross etched on it makes your chest tighten.

“Don’t dismiss what the presence of the sons of Ragnar does for you here,” She corrects bluntly, the rough edge of the shieldmaiden that waded through pain and blood to survive, “Leofric had every intent of forcing your hand and making you bury them like Christians,” Her lip curls in disgust at the word, “But they fear them more than the wrath of their God, it seems.”

You allow yourself a small snort of what once would have been laughter, ignoring the silver of stupid curiosity and carelessness that makes you wish you could talk to the Viking again.

Instead of voicing such thoughts, you return your mind and your soul to the battle that passed, and asked what has plagued you for days now,

“Have they found Narses?”

“…No.”

“He loves you,” Sieghild states as she passes you the bowl of stew. You take a deep breath and pointedly look down, as if you search for answers in the flavored water. “I would kill that boy if I had a chance, but…he does believe in you, he does love you.”

“I know.” You offer weakly, biting down shame and regret.

“And he clings to every word that leaves your lips, little one. You know this too.”

After a deep breath, you feel brave enough to meet her green eyes, “I know how to fight Slavs, mother. Better than any Athenian I know how the raiders wage their wars.”

“And why not speak out, little one?”

“They won’t listen to me.”

“But Narses…” She leaves the words hanging between you, and you swallow thickly.

“They listen to him.”

“And you make him listen to you, promising love in return for subservience,” She finishes darkly. After a breath, the Varangian sighs, “This will only bring forth pain, little one.”

“The death of my people would bring a greater pain than a lie.”

And now you have witnessed both the death of your people and the end of your lie. The bonds of marriage and the bonds of lineage are cut and lay broken on the same place the last of the Attics have found their end.

“I never deserved to be their Anassa.” You croak out instead with a frail smile that is more of a grimace, unable to keep your eyes away from the fire, even if they burn with tears and light.

“Did you ever want to be?” The shieldmaiden scoffs, but after a few moments of silence her gruffness gives way for a compassionate hand on your knee. Her voice is quiet, her face turned to yours even if you still face ahead with guilt and shame, as she speaks, “Past deserving, past your legacy, past their hopes…do you want to be their queen, little one?”

“Does it matter?”

“It does,” She promises with the certainty of a woman with four decades on this earth, and yet with the comfort of the strange warrior that taught you to heal your own scrapes and bruises, and the steel of the shieldmaiden that traveled the world with nothing but faith in her Gods and herself. Her hand is rough when it cups your cheek, turning you to face her, “Do you want to be their Anassa?”

You offer your mother a small, sad, and ashamed smile, “I don’t know.”

“You do know, but…maybe you are not ready to make that choice.”

“For once, mother, I would love it if you gave me answers instead of more questions.” You grumble, hiding your face in your arms. You hear Sieghild laugh, warm and hearty as always, and you cannot keep the smile from your lips.

“I don’t have any answers, little one. I have been alive for quite a while, but there’s some things that are…at the hands of the Gods,” She remains silent for a while, and it is only after a small thoughtful hum leaves her lips that the shieldmaiden speaks again, “I will find some answers.”

“What are you talking about?”

You lift your head to face her, and find the familiar roots of Yggdrasil on her face and the determined green eyes of the woman that raised you.

“Nothing yet. But I will find answers soon, I…have some questions of my own.”

____

The next day you watch silently as the Varangians are once again brought to talk with Stithulf. You wonder what they are asking for, either of them, that makes this possible. Scarcely have you heard of Saxons and Vikings cooperating, it would be as strange as having Byzantines and Arabs discussing around a table.

Then again, you never heard of Greeks finding death on Scandinavia, so maybe Galla was right and the Gods are somewhere laughing at all this chaos.

A Greek spy takes a seat at your side on the outside of the small hut you have been…caged in for the majority of your time. The woman is not older than Sieghild, but carries the weight of years. Or maybe of loss, who knows.

“The Varangians make these Christians uncomfortable.”

“Considering the only reason we are here is because the Christians want revenge on the sons of Ragnar, I am not surprised,” You tell her, and after a moment of consideration, add, “When the Varangians take their leave back to Dublin, do you know if they will do so by sea or land?”

“My time as a spy is long over.”

You hear the meaning behind her words. With Galla dead, who worked as the leader of your spies and scouts, there’s not much guidance for her people to go on.

The absence of Galla weighs heavy on your heart, even heavier than Narses’. She was the most cunning and intelligent woman you have ever met, your friend, your confidante, your trusted advisor. She was at your side for so long that not seeing her form approaching from the shadows, not having her dark eyes meeting yours with a silent meaning in them, not hearing her laugh as she startles you after approaching quietly; it feels like an empty space growing somewhere within you.

With her in mind, you recall, “Someone I once knew told me once our eyes grow used to shadows, we cannot ignore their lure.”

You offer her a small smile, that she begrudgingly returns. The woman adjusts in her seat, resting her elbows on her knees and looking ahead at the distant center of the city.

“They will go by sea, Anassa. I have heard plans of having…ka-tte-gat’s navy return to their home soon, but not before stopping in Dublin.”

“Good. I want to take advantage of that,” At the question written in her eyes, you shrug, “I want you to talk to the remaining Greeks, we will leave by land the day the Varangians are to set sail.”

“Why? Where?”

You stand up from your seat, hugging the cloak tighter to your body and prepare to enter your cold and foreign little hut again, giving the brunette spy one last glance,

“My people may die at the hands of Christians, but never under their boot. We will return home, or as close to it as we can get.”

You enter your rooms and it is then that the pretend fortitude, the certainty you do not have, the failure and the hope, they all curl around your body like starving snakes, pressing the air out of your lungs and making you falter.

Your fingers close around the amulet your mother left for you. A gift from your father to her. The symbols in the back of it are familiar letter that bring up a sense of nostalgia in you, engraved in your mind before you even knew how to read them.

Bend to the Fates, but don’t let them break you.

_______

Hi, thank you for reading and getting to the end! Would love to hear back from you, especially bc I kinda need to know if anyone actually is interested in this to set up an upload schedule. Thank you so much, hope you enjoyed!

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #vikings imagine #vikings #νοσταλγία #νοσταλγία masterlist

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asteriismos · 4 years

Text

stay home - jacob barber

warning(s) : smut, eighteen! jacob and reader, soft fluffy smut

words : 3k

authors note : sorry i’ve been away for a while. there will be more requests getting written soon. idk if i like this one or not lol it may get a rewrite

BUT ALSO A SOFT SMUT WITH JACOB B LIKE-

Oh my God yes, can you rewrite that closet scene so it's Jacob and reader

you had been there when andy gave the news to joanna, jacob, and laurie that he found out ben rifkin’s phone was now in evidence. you listened to the older adults as they explained that this meant that andy and joanna could go through the phone and find anything to defend jacobs case. this was good news, very, very good news.

this news, though good, was obviously something that the barbers didn’t want you knowing. you knew this by the fact that when andy had come home only ten minutes earlier, he asked for jacob to come down and only jacob. andy knew that you were there, as did laurie, but this was a family affair. something that they didn’t want you to go telling other people or the media about this news. which you understood, jacob’s safety in this trial was what really mattered.

but you were a snoopy person, wanting to know what they were talking about so badly that you stood in the doorframe leading to jacob’s room, being quiet as you listened to the conversation. it felt a little wrong to be snooping, but the kitchen was right there next to the stairs and it was hard for you to not hear the conversation.

hearing the conversation cease and footsteps making their way towards the stairs, you turned and walked into jacob’s room, mindlessly looking over the stuff that was on his desk. his computer, which was bright and shown on the screen was a google doc for a paper he was putting off, was the only thing that really brought light into the room other than the small lamp adjacent to the left on the desk.

the footsteps neared closer and from the hallway outside of his room, jacob said, “my mom and dad are going out to get takeout, what do you want from the chinese place?” chinese food. it was jacob’s favorite takeout food, even if it tended to make him a little sick after he ate it. you always laughed at how he always wanted to go there when both of you were hungry and didn’t want to go to either of your houses to make food yourselves.

you turned to face him and shrugged your shoulders, part of your cardigan sliding down your arm. “i’ll just get the chicken fried rice, i’m not too hungry,” you said. jacob smiled and walked back downstairs, seemingly to tell his parents what you wanted. you waited patiently for him to come back, and when he did, he closed the door and stood idly next to it, his eyes scanning his room before making their way to your own.

there was a certain unvoiced aura that has been between both of you for a really long time, ever since the day he got arrested and charged with the murder of ben rifkin. you two had yet to even really talk about it, because you weren’t really sure how to even start talking about it. it wasn’t a casual conversation starter, quite the obvious. talking about the murder of ben was beginning to be taboo in your suburban town.

jacob barber was in the same class as you for as long as you could remember. you two even went to the same preschool when you two were both three years old. he was born in august and you were born in september so you were always a little bit younger than you, but each of you were some of the oldest in your soon to be graduating class. already 18 in the beginning of senior year. because you were a girl and jacob was a boy, it was quickly established that you couldn’t be friends just because that’s how it was in elementary school. the boys hung out with the boys and the girls hung out with the girls. you can even remember having a boys vs girls ‘war’ on the playground about who had the most cooties. so you didn’t know him well until sophomore year english class.

the teacher in that class, mrs heng, was a spiteful woman who obviously hated children. you always wondered why someone would become a high school teacher if they openly talked about how messed up the ‘younger generation’ was. mrs heng had a strict seating chart that didn’t change for the rest of the year, and she placed you and jacob to sit next to each other at the double desk. back then you had only really heard people talk about jacob and the same went for you, so it was pretty awkward at first. after a while you two started to warm up to each other and the rest was history.

you two were now nearing your two year anniversary and everything seemed much different than how it was two years ago. how could either of you think that any of this would happen?

jacob, still standing awkwardly with his eyes at yours, cleared his throat. “did you hear any of that?” he was good at reading you. he knew your facial expressions like the back of your hand. and he always knew when those gears in your brain were turning.

you breathed out, realizing that you were holding your breath. you didn’t know why you were being so passive with jacob, you two never kept secrets from each other. but you, like everyone else, was trying to tell if jacob actually did it or not. of course you weren’t like the people who jumped to the conclusion and painted him to be some type of monster. you knew he wasn’t a monster. he was jacob. your jacob.

“yes.”

your tone was softer than you wanted to be. and jacob couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt in his heart for having to put you through this. he knew that people were mean to you at school, on social media, and even in newspaper articles about him. they all mentioned how jacob had a girlfriend, and how she might just be as messed up as he apparently is. it broke his heart in two.

he walked over to you, the apparent height difference showing the closer he got to you. there was a point where you were taller than jacob, back in eighth grade when all the girls were going through puberty and the boys were still left in the dust. then in sophomore year a month into dating him, he started to get taller and taller. you swore that you would see him one day and then the next he would be two inches taller.

his hand reached out to grab your own, making you sigh at the contact. you missed him. now that he was out of school and was finishing up his last year of high school with a private tutor, you never got to see him at school and sometimes not even afterwards because you had your own responsibilities with trying to graduate with good grades. tonight was the first night this week you came over to hang out with him in almost two weeks.

“i'm sorry, about everything. about roping you into all of this, you don’t deserve it,” jacob said, his hand squeezing yours.

you looked into his eyes with concern. “and you do? jacob, i’m so sorry this is all happening to you.” you could deal with a little bit of bullying, but jacob? he was looking at the rest of his life in jail if he was found guilty of this. and the evidence was piling up against him. you almost didn’t know how he was keeping it together. the world was crashing down on jacob barber and he was still making sure that you were okay.

you did really love him. you have since sophomore year when he used to write on the corners of your worksheets and ask you how your day was. then when you would turn them in, you’d have to scribble out the conversation so that the teacher didn’t see. in the beginning stages of your relationship he would put little notes in your locker that you still kept in your room to this day. a part of you believed that you would always love jacob barber, no matter what happened in these next coming weeks.

his eyes looked down at the ground, sighing. “i know, it’s just. i worry about you all the time,” he said. he really cared about you, loved you more than anything he’s ever known. it didn’t even matter what happened to him, as long as you were safe from possible violent people and the media. they were all painting you to be someone you’re not. jacob wished that they knew the real you. about how supportive, kind, and considerate you have been with him this entire time. the entire world was against jacob barber and here you were, still defending him and standing by his side.

feeling a sudden chill, you shivered under his touch, making him smile a little bit and look back into your eyes. all thoughts of the trial melted away as you two came back into reality. without saying anything, you let go of his hand and turned to walk into his closet. it always confused you as to why he had such a big closet. but laurie said something about how jacob’s room ( despite it being smaller ) used to be the master bedroom before they added on an addition to the house. which explains why jacob had a walk in closet despite him not really even needing it. only about 2/3 of it was even filled, the other was just empty with a few boxes used for storage.

you heard jacob follow you, he leaned against the doorframe and watched you search through his expanse of sweatshirts. you were trying to find the perfect one to wear so you wouldn’t be so cold. hands grabbing and pushing away hangers, you came across a white one that he never really wore. amused, you turned to look at him and held it up by the hanger for him to see, “i don’t think i’ve ever seen you wear this one.”

a light blush spread across his cheeks, “yeah. i bought that one to wear and give to you a month ago. never got the chance.” he motioned to the hoodie with a sheepish smile on his face.

you smiled as well, biting your lip and setting it down on the shelf next to you. you came over to him and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. jacob pressed a kiss to your cheek and raised an eyebrow. “what’s on your mind?” he asked.

you shrugged. “just you.”

“i’m flattered,” jacob said, pecking you on the lips this time.

you looked into his eyes. he was the same person that you fell in love with. and you missed him this close to you. you missed him inside of you. you two haven’t had sex in so long, and his parents were gone you were the only people in the house.

you were so desperate for him. “make love to me.”

he hummed. “what was that?” he cocked his head to the side and put his hands on your waist. his thumbs pressed into your hip bones.

“make love to me,” you said again, catching his eyes.

he pulled away just a tiny bit, a curious look on your face. “what sprung this on?”

you just shrugged your shoulders, biting your lip again but in a more seductive way. “i love you. and i want you. we’re all alone in this house and it’ll be fun.”

he didn’t respond, instead kissing you with a desirable force. your back hit the wall with a calm force that you didn’t even mind the folded clothes that fell down from the top shelves. you laughed into the kiss, hands coming up and tangling themselves into jacob’s hair. the strands fell in between your fingers like silk. you tugged at them, eliciting a soft groan from him into your mouth.

jacob pulled away from you and pulled up your shirt, hands coming to your sides and capturing your lips with his again. his right hand trailed upward, cupping your breast. his thumb rubbed along the skin above your bra, squeezing a tiny bit. jacob was being gentle, loving, appreciating everything about your body.

usually when you guys had sex, it would go fast. mostly because you guys had so much pent up tension that you two have to go at it hard and fast to get relief. this time it was slow, genuinely appreciating everything about each other. it was rare that you got times like this, but now that it was here, neither of you were going to take it for granted.

you could tell that he had pent up tension, just the way that he was kissing you told you that. hot kisses pressed to your lips or on your jaw. it caused a pressure to build in your stomach. jacob went down to kiss up and down your neck, making sure not to make any marks where they could be seen. he did however, leave a large one just below your collarbone, which made you throw your head back with a tiny moan. the way that his teeth grazed across your skin felt so good.

“jacob, we don’t have that much time,” you spoke, hands pulling his face up to look at you. he gave you a lazy grin, kissing the valley in between your breasts. he then came up face to face with you and leaned in, his hot breath fanned against your face.

“you’re right, you’re just so beautiful i want to kiss every single inch of you,” jacob replied. you shivered at his words, cheeks reddening. “what? it’s true. i love you.”

you pecked him on the lips. “i love you too, may i?” your hands went down to the end of his shirt and lightly tugged on it. he laughed and nodded, his arms raising up as you guided the fabric off of his skin. once the shirt was off and discarded, your hands came to his sides and pulled him into another long kiss.

his lips still on yours, jacob went and started to mess with the button of your jeans. after a few attempts, he finally got them unzipped and pulled them off of you. you finished by kicking them off your ankles. your hands came to do the same for him, undoing his belt and letting him do the rest. your hands were too shakey to finish up the job anyways.

one finger hooked into the waistband of your panties and pulled them off of you as well. the only thing seperating each of you were his boxers, which were discarded soon after.

jacob hiked you up against the wall, grabbing the bottoms of your thighs and pulling you upwards. your legs wrapped around his waist, hands holding tightly onto his shoulders. you were off the ground in his arms against the wall of his closet, which you hoped didn’t drop more clothes on you. the last thing you wanted was for you guys to finish and then later have laurie barber ask what the hell happened in the closet to make the folded shirts on the top shelf all fall off.

there was a moment of silence between you two while he lined himself up with your entrance, the tip of his dick sliding through your folds. you moaned out, giving him a look that said please. jacob chuckled and pushed himself in.

the feeling of him stretching you out while he slowly pushed in made you groan out. you fogot how good this felt, how he filled you up just perfectly. right now you thanked god for birth control. jacob took a moment to let you adjust to the feeling after he bottomed out, since he didn’t warm you up with his fingers earlier. if there had been more time, he would’ve. but there will definitely be more times to be together.

“you - you can move,” you whispered out, your hands going to his face. “please jacob move.” you begged, making him laugh again.

“needy are we?”

you didn't have time to answer because he pulled out of you and pushed back in, continuing at a moderate pace. your back pressed against the wall every time his hips rut into yours, sending you closer and closer to that peak.

both of you were pretty riled up. because of the stress of the arrest and the upcoming trial, no one leaves you two that alone together to have sex. this was one of these rare moments you got to spend with each other and it was so worth it.

it was so worth it to hear those desperate moans come out of his lips every time his hips met yours, the lust in his eyes when his head bowed down and then up again to meet your eyes. jacob pressed kisses to your neck, licking a stripe up your jawline. a half moan half sob left your lips, feeling him reach that spot in you that only he could get. he hit it over and over again,

you moaned out, hands pressing harshly against his back. nail’s digging into the skin on his back. usually he wouldn’t like the pain, but it felt so good mixed with the pleasure of you so tight around him. both of you were really close, his thrusts were getting faster and harsher with every single time he pulled out and in. “god jacob, im going to come.”

jacob nodded his head that was in your shoulder and watched your face as you hit your orgasm, admiring the sweat on your brow and the way that your head threw back.

your moans in ecstasy seemed to cause him to hit his orgasm as well, his hands squeezing the back of your thighs. he attempted to pull out, warm hot liquid spilled inside of you and in the inside of your legs. he took a moment to make sure you were steady on your legs as he set you down. you leaned against the wall to catch your breath.

#defending jacob #jacob barber #jacob barber x reader #jacob barber imagine #jaeden martell

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totaltrashmammal101 · 3 years

Text

Betrayal and Love don't mix

Ok, so I don't know if I'm gonna spoil anything because I know that there is a manga, but I've never read it, but I have a feeling (hopeful thinking more) that we're not done with the militant trio, because it was left kind of...like hey maybe and I do know somebody said I guess that Niragi is still alive after the fire, idk...we'll see. No intended spoilers, if I guessed I apologize, if not... well disregard this.

SPOILERS if you haven't finished the season...I hope everyone has, because this skims over the last episodes.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of death, blood, violence, murder, etc. Normal AIB things

××××××××××××××××××××××××

Ann's heart dropped seeing Hatter's lifeless body on the table. She stepped forward to touch the bullet wound only to have Niragi nudge her with a smirk

"Try not to touch the body too much, we all know you have a love for dissecting things." He winked at her, she sighed and rolled her eyes stepping back. She glanced at Aguni, trying to read him but he showed even less emotion than Chishiya, in public at least. The threats to vote for Aguni filled Ann with rage, how dare he do things like this, let Niragi and Last Boss threaten people. Would he have even stopped them if she or anyone voted against him?

She avoided being alone with him as they signed their names and he gave his speech. Aguni glanced at her a few times trying to read her expression, but all he noticed was her nostrils flare and she looked pissed. His mind was on repeat, kissing Ann before they went their separate ways for their games, shooting Hatter, crying, and sleeping beside her because he knew it'd be the last time she'd ever want to be near him. When Arisu was caught and Niragi and the others were in charge of him, he went to go find Ann. They got into a screaming match about Hatter and everything

"Learn to mind your own damn buisness Ann! Leave this shit alone!" He pointed at her

"This is my job and you don't tell me what to do. Not after today! What is wrong with you?"

"Just drop it!"

"He was your best friend Aguni, wouldn't you want to know who did it?!" He stormed out in a huff. She went back to work and was shocked by the bullet she found, she recognized it as one from the beach. She pushed away the truth that Aguni was the one who shot him. She knew it was him, but accepting that fact raised more questions. She was lost in thought when the tv in the kitchen kicked on, The Beach was now a game arena and to get to the lobby. Her stomach dropped and she walked out to get her phone, ten of hearts, and the game was 'witch hunt'. She yelled at everyone not to touch the knife in Momoka, the questioning began, and Niragi tried to threaten her and Asahi, but thankfully for her she could see through his antics as a scared little boy. When Aguni showed up the two stepped away from each other a bit, he declared everyone a suspect who wasn't his ally, and he could see her eyes narrow at him, her silent questioning of where she stood there. She wanted to yell at Niragi for shooting his gun off, but unaware of where she and Aguni stood she took off with the others. She hid until she could go back for the knife determined to figure it out before the Militants slaughtered the beach.

Watching Aguni hit Arisu for saying that he killed Hatter because of what he became broke Ann. She pitied him more than anything, she was still furious at him for subjecting so many people to death because of Hatter going insane. He looked so broken as he tried to piss people off so they attacked him, claiming to be the witch. They could stop now, end the game and throw Momoka's body in the fire, go their separate ways. Why continue to fight? When he gave up after Asahi revealed herself as a game dealer, there was silence for a moment and then Arisu pleaded with Aguni to stop and that he didn't want anyone else to die (I might have gotten that backwards). Aguni looked at him and then his eyes wandered over to Ann who was being held up by Kuina and he wanted to apologize, plead for her to hold him and to let him die here. He was ok with dying, he was ok with dying for Arisu and Usagi, all of them. He was the one responsible for allowing this to happen. He almost died too, but Ann's laugh woke him up

"You're a dork." She laughed and he started coughing feeling the heat of the flames, flickering closer, he looked around trying to find Niragi's body which he tackled, but the younger man was gone..He took a deep breath before going towards a door, bloody and slightly burnt. He was coughing and hacking, trying to find his way to safety. He got himself into an abandoned drugstore, collapsing against a wall behind the counter not wanting anyone to see him before he passed out again. He woke up to someone cleaning him and he saw Ann over him

"Are you real or just in my head?" He reached out to touch her, but she pulled back and shook her head

"I'm real, don't move you need to rest. I don't know how you got out without anyone seeing you, but you're sneakier than Chishiya." She let out a sigh and helped him drink a bottle of Gatorade before he passed out again. He woke up later smelling her cook food, he looked over at her from his cot seeing her in an oversized button down and shorts with boots

"Good, you're awake. " She said handing him food and he slowly sat up, taking the food reluctantly. The silence was tense on his end, not sure where to start, but when she looked at him he was met with coldness

"Why not just let me die?"

"I don't know...guess I still care." She shruged and looked at her food and continued to eat. He finished his food and walked over near her

"I don't deserve your kindness. I need you to forget about me and get out of this place." He bent down beside her

"Aguni..." He cupped her face and kissed her forehead

"Marry some good young lawyer who can give you everything I can't, make lots of babies.." He looked at her pout and then plopped down defeated, laying down in exhaustion beside her, head on her lap and arms around her waist "I'm a monster."

"You're broken...not a monster...maybe a little psycho yourself." She reluctantly rubbed his back and he sobbed into her quietly.

#ann rizuna #rizuna ann #aguni x ann #aib fanfic #aib ann #aib aguni #I don't know what I'm doing with my life #I'm sorry to everyone lol #I hope you guys enjoy this somewhat #Thoughts on a Kuina x Last Boss story #The Traitor song by Olivia Rodrigo is what inspired this #I like the edits for shows and stuff with that song

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angelsfalling16 · 3 years

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okay okay i can’t think of anything specific but like hurt comfort for deniall? i can never get enough of that ship and i really like the idea of that trope for them!! like something where devs upset about all the attention baz has ever gotten and how he feels like such a background character in life and nialls like ohhoho how would you feel if i told you i’ve been in l or with you since we were like 10. idk just spit balling anything you want to do tbh i love all ur work so!!!

a/n: As soon as I saw this ask, the ideas started turning in my mind, and I really liked the idea that you had, so I ran with it. I love writing deniall fics because it allows me to write different types of stories, which is really interesting. Thanks so much for Sending me this prompt, Nonnie!! I hope you like it! :) The title is from the song Story of Us by Taylor Swift

Read it on ao3

***

Niall

Dev is having a meltdown. Like a full on lying on the floor with moody music blasting through the speakers meltdown. This isn’t the first time he’s acted like this, and the fact that he didn’t come find me to tell me what’s wrong means it can’t be too bad, so I decide to ignore him for the moment until he’s ready to talk.

He reminds me so much of Baz in the way of his dramatics at this moment, but if this were Baz, I would be backing way off for fear of being burnt to a crisp for the sole reason of being in the same room as him. Dev on the other hand is all bark and no bite. It's kind of adorable.

I move around the room, pulling books from my school bag and tidying the room a bit, pretending not to notice the boy lying in the middle of the floor or the fact that I think my ears might be bleeding from the volume of this music.

I’m walking over to pick up a stray shirt on the floor when Dev grabs my ankle, nearly causing me to fall flat on my face.

I sigh. "Alright. What gives, Dev?"

"Did you know that Baz is older than me?" He mumbles into the carpet, and I briefly wonder when the last time was that we thought to vacuum in here.

"What?" I ask, wondering what this has to do with him lying on the floor.

"Yeah. By three months. For three months, I was the only grandchild, the only nephew. I was beloved by everyone. Then Baz came into the world and all of that went away."

"Uhh..." I say, still not seeing the point. "There's no way you even remember those three months."

"No but it’s still true."

"Okay?" I say slowly. Where the hell is he going with this?

He rolls over on his back but dramatically throws an arm over his face so that I can’t really make out his expression. I’m not sure whether he’s being serious or just really melodramatic, but realizing we're going to be here a while, I plop down on the floor next to him, using my magic to turn the music off, sending us into a silence that sounds almost as deafening as the music was.

"Do you ever feel like you're a background character in someone else's story?” Dev asks finally. “Like nothing you ever do will be important enough to be the main character?”

I think about it for a moment. "Not really. Why?"

"It's like my whole life I've been living in the shadows, a few steps behind Baz. No matter what I did or how deeply I was hurting, it could never compare to whatever was going on with Baz. It began to feel like a competition, one that I never had a chance of winning."

"Life isn't supposed to be a competition. The way you feel or hurt is valid even if someone else has it worse. It’s your life and your experiences and that is what's important."

"I know but it’s still hard not to feel like a background character."

He really sounds distraught over this, and I wonder how long he’s been holding all of this in. I want to reach out and take his hand in mine but decide that that would be stupid and keep my hands to myself.

"You know what I think?” I say. “I think everyone is the writer of their own story. They get to make their own choices and decide how much they allow themselves to be affected by others. They can’t change other people's stories, but they can be a part of them. So yeah, it’s possible you're a background character in Baz's story, but what about in your story?"

He slides his arm down to rest on his chest so that he can stare at me. "When did you get to be so wise, Niall?"

I shrug self-consciously, hoping he doesn’t notice the blush creeping up onto my face. He looks away to stare up at the ceiling, like all of the answers will be up there.

"Okay. So say that that’s true and you can write your own story, what could I do to make it my own?"

I hum noncommittally, thinking about it. I know what I would do if it were me. I would tell my best friend I'm in love with him and have been since we were like 11 and first thrown into this tiny room together.

I can’t say that though because it would ruin everything. Maybe I will in a few months when we leave Watford for good and go our separate ways.

He's looking at me expectantly now, so I try to come up with an acceptable answer.

"If I were trying to make my story my own, I think I would try to figure out what's holding me back and find a way to change it. I would find a way to take charge of it and not wait around for things to happen to me."

He tilts his head thoughtfully at me and a strand of hair falls down in front of his eye. My fingers itch to reach out and brush it away but I ball my hand into a fist to keep myself from doing something stupid.

"So, what's holding you back then Niall?"

My face heats even more as I stutter out a response. "N-nothing. We weren’t talking about m-me."

I press my lips firmly together as if to prove my point.

The corner of Dev's mouth turns up in a small smile, and it looks like his dark mood is almost gone. Something else has grabbed his attention. I just wish that thing wasn't me.

"We should go to dinner," I say in an attempt to distract him. I start to stand up, but he grabs my arm and pulls me back down. He doesn’t let go and now we're sitting face to face in the middle of our room.

"You have a secret," he accuses. "You're terrible at keeping secrets, so this must be big."

I swallow hard, my heart beating hard against my rib cage. "It's nothing. It's stupid."

"Come on. You can tell me. I'm your best friend."

And there it is. The reason I could never tell him how I really feel: I don’t want to lose his friendship. It means too much to me. He means too much to me.

"It’s nothing," I say again. "It’s not an important part of my story." The lie causes me physical pain as the words leave my mouth, and I want to take them back. I hate lying to him.

He looks like he wants to push the matter further, but he simply lets go of my arm and shrugs.

"Fine. You don’t have to tell me." He says it flippantly, like it really doesn’t matter, which for some reason makes me hurt even more.

My skin feels cold where his hand just was, and suddenly it feels like there’s too much room between us. He was wrong. I'm not terrible at keeping secrets. I just don't like keeping them, especially from him,which is why I decide that it's time to stop keeping this one.

"Dev wait," I say even though he hasn't moved yet. "I'll tell you."

"You don’t have to," he says softly. "I didn't mean to push you."

I shake my head. "No, you didn't. I want to tell you."

"Okay."

I drop my gaze down to my hands in my lap but then I decide that I need to look at him when I say this. I have to see his reaction, no matter how bad it is.

"You said that you feel like a background character but I know that's not true. It couldn’t possibly be true because you're such a big part of my life."

He starts to say something, but I shake my head to stop him. If I don’t say this now, I don’t think I'll ever be able to say it. I take a deep breath and continue.

"From the moment the Crucible pulled us together and brought you into my life, I knew my life would never be the same. As soon as I saw your crooked smile and floppy hair falling into your eyes, I knew that I was gone for. I may not have known what it meant just yet, but I knew having you in my life was all I would ever want." His expression is unreadable as I say all of this, so I just keep going, trying not to worry about what he must be thinking. "You can't possibly be a background character because you’re a main character in my story. You’re one of the most special things about my story, and you’re one of the things that keeps it going, gives it purpose."

"Niall, what exactly are you saying?" Dev asks slowly.

A small part of me wants to say that he's just my best friend, but I can’t go back now. I have to see this all the way through.

"I’m in love with you, Dev. I have loved you for years and--mmph."

I'm cut off when he presses his lips to mine and kisses me with so much force that it nearly knocks me over.

He pulls away just as quickly, his face red and unable to look at me.

"Sorry. I just--. Sorry."

"You don't have to apologize."

"Niall, I... I love you, too." He looks back up at me when he says it, a smile playing on his lips.

My brain stalls out at that, but I can feel my face break out into a giant, stupid grin. I can’t believe it. I can't believe Dev actually feels the same way about me.

It’s my turn to kiss him, and I actually do knock into him with enough force to make him land on his back on the carpet. Then I kiss him like my life depends on it.

He wraps his arms around me, and we lie tangled up together kissing for a long time.

"I think dinner is over now," Dev says when we finally break apart, and I laugh.

I roll off of him so that were both lying on our backs together, side by side. His hand finds my and I interlace our fingers.

We stay like that for a few minutes before there's a knock at the door.

"Are you two alright in there? You missed dinner." It's Baz.

Dev sits up quickly, and I join him.

"Remember," I say quietly. You’re not a background character. You are so much more than that."

He smiles and says, "I know. Thanks for helping me see that." Then louder, he says, "We're fine. We just got a little...distracted."

I can feel my face warm as I stand up, hoping I don’t look too much like I was just rolling around on the floor with my roommate.

"Oh. Is it alright if I come in?"

Dev looks at me and I shrug. "Sure. I have some snacks hidden in my wardrobe. We can eat in here."

"Alright thanks," Baz says when I let him

The three of us sit on the floor together passing snacks around and making small talk about our day. Dev keeps throwing knowing glances my way, and I try not to blush as I think about all that has transpired on this carpet in the last hour and a half.

I wonder what Baz would say if I just reached over and took Dev’s hand right now, but I don’t think I'm ready for him to know just yet. I am not ashamed of this. I just want it to stay between me and Dev for a little while longer.

It will be our little secret. Our special, amazing secret.

I can't keep the smile off my face, and I can tell Dev knows exactly what I’m thinking about, but he doesn’t say anything until Baz has left for his own room.

"So..." He says.

"So..." I repeat.

He smiles at me and my heart melts. Merlin, I love him.

"What does this mean?" He asks, and his face flushes, giving away how nervous he was about asking that question. I'm surprised he even has to ask.

"For me, it means I want to be your boyfriend."

"I want that, too."

We kiss again and it's perfect.

It’s like one of those big moments in a story when everything comes together, and all the pieces fall into place. This is what everything has been building to, and it’s even better than I ever could have imagined.

This is not the end of our story, merely the end of this chapter in it.

#deniall #deniall fic #dev x niall #the simon snow trilogy #rainbow rowell #story of us #my writing #i wrote this in like an hour and a half on my phone last night #which is kind of crazy for me #lol #i had a lot of fun with it!

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newhologram · 3 years

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I know only a few of you are on IG so I wanted to give an update here on the past few days. I am doing this knowing the potential risk but I need to also record where I'm at right now in case anything weird happens.

My week has been like this so far. Sunday: Family Member 1 misplaced their Xbox controller. They kept asking me if I knew where it was, each time growing more and more aggressive. I don't have an Xbox, I reminded them. I have my own controller for my PC. But they kept knocking loudly on my door. They followed me outside where I was vaping and tried to accuse me of I don't even know what. Pawning off their controller? FM1 said, "Is there something going on that you're not telling me? SOMEONE'S messing with me!" Later that night they and their gf were making dinner. FM1 suddenly knocked harshly on my door and said aggressively, "WHAT DID YOU DO WITH THE OVEN MITTS" in an angry voice. I was already stressed from them harassing me earlier about the controller. I came out of my room, heart racing, and told them I had not used them that day. I helped find the mitts, which had fallen behind the trash can because the hanging hook had broken. I went to bed on edge, feeling unsafe and targeted, wondering why my family member was suddenly acting so paranoid and accusing me of misplacing their things... Something they actually have done to me my whole life, denying it until the moment my item is found, when they suddenly remember they did move it there (or accidentally throw it out/destroy it). The controller ended up being some random place in the living room. Monday: I went to leave for my acupuncture appointment. My booster seat/pillow thing was missing from my car. Not in the trunk or anything. I cannot drive without it. I'm too short to see over the steering wheel. I called FM1 and they have no idea where it could be, despite the fact that they drive my car every day. FM1's gf helped find it, in the garage. But I still had an epic fucking meltdown, sobbing the whole way to and from my appointment. I just cannot handle people moving my shit and disrupting my schedule like that. And it just hurt so much more knowing that FM1 was so awful to me the day before about their stuff being misplaced. I'm always having my personal belongings, my feelings, my personhood, disrespected. It hurts deeply. When I got home I stressed to them that this is my car, and my accommodation should not ever be removed from it under any circumstances. It was after this that I decided it was time to hold a family meeting. I called Family Member 2 and 3 over to the house. I read a long letter to them in which I told them about the talks I have had with my therapist, psychiatrist, and another psychologist. Even though I cannot be formally assessed and diagnosed at this time, I am being treated for autism. I detailed to my family my entire life of trauma that is traced back directly to my autistic traits, and my needs not only not being met, but being outright denied. I was denied empathy most of my life for my sensory issues, my pain, everything. A big part of this is gaslighting. Even if it's unintentional or not malicious, gaslighting is incredibly traumatic. Especially when it comes to my sensory issues. I have had even more problems with overstimulation the past year which means I can barely sleep, so my daily naps are even more important. I try to coordinate my naps when there is less activity in my house. But if I'm in a ton of pain and extra sensitive and ask for quiet, that's when I get in trouble and a fight happens. That's when FM1 tells me I "need to be realistic" and "can't expect the whole world to shut up for you"... when I'm literally saying "I have a migraine and need to rest, can you please not play loud music or slam cupboards in the kitchen for a few hours?"

I was emotionally neglected and abused by both parents. A lot of it is just the result of their own trauma that they have not dealt with... But I have also been physically threatened and assaulted by them at different times, though it only happened those specific times. (They won't ever admit to it though.) The emotional and mental abuse still goes on in my home. I am not allowed to have emotions. I have been told "STOP. WHY ARE YOU CRYING. LIFE'S NOT FAIR. WHEN YOU GET OUT IN THE REAL WORLD YOU'LL HAVE SOMETHING TO CRY ABOUT" over and over--like... in response to me crying about my pet dying, or in response to me crying bc I'm in horrible pain from my chronic illnesses, or crying after my usual yearly ER visit. I am also not allowed to have boundaries. I have tried to communicate with FM1 that these things hurt me deeply. And their response is basically, "YOU'RE SO UNGRATEFUL. I PUT A ROOF OVER YOUR HEAD!" and threats such as "BETWEEN TAKING CARE OF YOU AND GRANMDA, ONE OF THESE DAYS I'M GOING TO DRIVE OFF AND YOU'LL NEVER SEE ME AGAIN!" or "I'M THE ONE WHO SHOULD KILL MYSELF BECAUSE I HAVE TO TAKE CARE OF YOU"-- y'know, in response to having a disabled child. Ouch. The message is clear: I am nothing but an inconvenience and a burden to my family. I still have nightmares about them abandoning me, or abusing me more. I think in their heads they think that they love me. But this isn't love. If I try to talk to them about how dangerous it is for them to say things like that to me, they say "I never said/did that." Which brings us back to the gaslighting: I said that every time they gaslight me and tell me that my emotions/thoughts/experiences aren't real, it triggers me so badly that I self-harm and become suicidal.

I was very clear with them: I said that I can no longer have that in my life because one day it will kill me. I don't wanna die that way. I want to live. I have very bad PTSD and it's something I have worked on for 8 years but it has been worse the past year with so many disruptions and FM1's worsening narcissistic traits. I gave the choice to them. I said if they gaslighted me again that they were making the decision to not be in my life. Because this is about preserving my life. I'm trying not to die here. I'm literally trying to save my own life, even if that means not having a relationship with my family. They accept that I am autistic... But they then took turns gaslighting me. When I pointed out, "that's gaslighting. that's exactly what I just said in my letter. What you're doing is gaslighting" they went even harder on it. They said my experience and my trauma is "not in line with reality". They also said I "need to be reasonable" with the boundary that I'm setting (meaning: they don't believe in boundaries at all). They tried to guilt trip me with, "you can't cut someone out of your life because what if they DIE and then you FEEL GUILTY??" (I mean, what if I killed myself because you keep hurting me? Wouldn't you feel guilty about that?) They also guilt tripped me with "well we TRY to invite you to family stuff, and we try to include you, but you never want to go..." um... I guess they forgot I am chronically ill? Sorry if I don't have the energy or pain tolerance to drive an hour each way to a loud family party after I've worked all week? I cried and cried, I said this is exactly what I told you that you do to me and how it endangers my life... and you're doing it... while telling me you don't do it to me... They were all weird and told me "we love you and would do anything for you!" except... I guess, not gaslight me constantly? Idk. I felt so trapped. I felt so hopeless. I was up all night crying. I wondered, "Why is the idea of me having distance from them somehow worse than me being dead? Why would they prefer that I die rather than set a boundary that will save me?" And then I remembered: I had set the terms. They broke them. You do this, you're out of my life, because me being alive is more important than us having a relationship which will eventually kill me. I'm not trapped. It doesn't matter if they think they can prevent me from setting this boundary because they can't. I'm in charge of my boundary. So I blocked them on social media, as well as their phones. I have to unfortunately keep FM1 unblocked bc I live with them, they drive my car, and they look after my cats while I am at work. If I didn't have so many great things happening behind the scenes, if I didn't have my cats, if I didn't have amazing friends and followers who are supportive and kind... I can definitely see that I would have ended my life that night in some alternate timeline. That is how much pain I was in from them doing that to me. Them literally trying to gaslight me into not setting a boundary. I mean it would've been so ridiculous on their part, can you imagine? Me: Hey family, when you gaslight me, it makes me suicidal. I don't want to die, so either you stop doing that, or we can't have a relationship. Family: UHH NO *gaslights me anyway* Me: ok *kills self* Family: *surprised Pikachu face* Like???? Would they really have been shocked because it seems like they should have known since I told them directly? And that just shows that they really don't take my pain seriously at all. They think I'm overly sensitive and that my trauma is not real. That would have been a painful wake up call for them. I told my therapist all of this. And she agrees that this is good, this is going to not only ween them off of me but also allow me to focus on all the good stuff I have going on. I have to get moving. So much stuff has been lagging because I'm constantly recovering from them triggering me. I'm going to focus, and heal, and gtfo of here. Thank you for your support and for never invalidating my pain.

#teku #personal #d o nut #reba gel #!#donut rebagel plz

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writing-in-april · 3 years

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A Tale of Two Poe’s

Poe Dameron x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: AU where Poe Dameron and Edgar Allan Poe both exist in the Star Wars universe. Reader finds a book containing the writings of Edgar Allan Poe and just can’t wait to show her Poe.

A/N: This is a purely self indulgent fic lmao 😂 this AU idea where Poe Dameron and Edgar Allan Poe exist in the same universe came into my head a while back and I just had to write it. Idk if it’s weird or not but I enjoyed writing it lmao- also obviously credit goes to Edgar Allan Poe for all his stories and poem excerpts I use. @writefightandflightclub and @sergeantkane are definitely my go to for Poe fics if you’re curious and they always inspire me to write more for Poe but- there are so many other amazing writers for Poe too. I’ll have to make a fic rec list for him soon. This also is my second fic for my 1000 follower celebration!!! I want to thank you all so much again, this is so surreal!! Thanks for reading and requests are open!!

Warnings: Uhh- a sexual innuendo & talk of death in the war I think that’s it...

Main Masterlist Word count: 2.2k

The amount of bookstores that were left in the galaxy was such a small and minuscule number, most people just used their data pads to read, that is if they read anything at all. It was such a shame, in your opinion. No data pad could truly recreate the magic of a physical book.There was nothing better than opening a book, new or old, the parchment smell wafting around under your nose as you fully enveloped yourself in the words on the page.

You had stopped in at the old library after you had completed a routine information pick up for the resistance. The planet you were on was the beautiful Naboo and you had a couple hours to kill before your partner, Poe came with his x-wing to pick you up. The little vintage book store stood out in the ethereal metropolis of the big city, and you were instantly drawn to it.

When you entered the little shop it was filled wall to wall with books, you had never seen so many books in your life before. Personally, you only had three that you kept on top of your small dresser that you put the small amount of clothes in. They weren’t interesting books to say the least, mostly consisting of military procedurals from your early days in the academy, besides one novel written on a planet far away called Earth named “A tale of two cities”. The book shop made you want to take all of them back to base and read every leisure novel you could ever want to read. However, there was no real time and you didn’t have the money to take all the books home with you, so you settled on picking one that really grabbed your attention.

The book that caught your eye was a black hard cover, so thick because of how many pages it held that you could barely hold it in one hand. The spine said “The complete collection of stories and poems by Edgar Allan Poe” and just by flipping through it a little you gathered that it must have also been written on the planet Earth, just like your one other novel. You loved the other novel and you knew that you were definitely going to bring this book home, even if you didn’t enjoy it at least you could tease Poe about the shared name. But, you had a feeling you were going to enjoy it.

You opened the book to another random page written by the person who held a similar name to your man and landed on a page that had a poem by the name of Annabel Lee. Poems were not something that were often seen in the galaxy anymore, even on the data pads that everyone used. They had fallen into obscurity as a form of literature that was obsolete and pointless.

The poem instantly had you hooked just in the first few lines, it was definitely a sad poem, as you suspected the rest were as well. But, the beautiful well written rhymes seduced you like the sirens you had heard about from Ahch-To. Though, Rey had told you the Thala-sirens were not nearly as beautiful as the myths would have you believe. Realizing that you were getting tight on time you rushed to check out the book, you didn’t want to worry Poe. Once you had paid the kind older lady who ran the shop you ran quickly out to your rendezvous point where Poe was already anxiously waiting.

“Kriff- there you are, I was worried something had happened to you.” His eyes were a bit frantic looking and hair disheveled. he had undoubtedly been looking around for you in worry while running his hands through his hair and had been pacing. Poe needed to learn to relax every once and awhile, he was often an overworrier and was often overworked.

“I’m only a few minutes late, relax. I just had to pick up a little surprise for you.”

“A surprise? What is it?” He reached to grab the parcel that the book had been wrapped in by the owner of the shop. You swiftly pulled the package away from him, you wanted it to be a surprise for later, when you both could relax.

“Hands off- I’ll show you later, be patient.” His indignant sigh only caused you to roll your eyes while you both climbed into the x-wing, with you sitting on Poe’s lap. He was so dramatic sometimes. Maybe, someday you’d get to come back to the bookshop on Naboo to get some more books, with hopefully Poe in tow next time.

—-

When we got back to base you were vibrating with excitement in anticipation of showing Poe the book that had an author with the same name as him. Throughout the entire briefing with Leia she could probably tell that my mind was in a far off place, almost like you still had my head stuck in the book. When she’d finally dismissed you after you had gone through the mission debriefing I bolted to our shared quarters. Once you had gone in the fresher for a quick wash and got dressed for the night you hopped in your small bed that you shared with Poe, but not before grabbing the new book you had added to your collection.

“Come to bed, I’ve got something for you.” You said as soon as Poe got through the door. He always had to check in with the main mechanic that worked on his x-wing right after he came home on a mission, it was the only way he would ever let anyone touch black one.

“Oh? Is it that surprise you were talking about earlier?” His signature cheeky smile that he flashed you while he stripped off his flight suit let you know immediately what he assumed the surprise was.

You threw his pillow he used at him, then accosted him playfully,“It’s not what you think it is you horndog, I’ve got a book for you.”

“A book? You know I don't know how to read.” You wished that you had a third pillow to throw at him in that moment, but you didn’t want to lose your own pillow. There had been many times in your relationship where Poe had stolen your pillow to mess with you and you weren’t about to give him the upper hand.

“Shut it, I’ll read it to you, you big baby.” He was now dressed in your favorite ensemble besides his flight suit, a white tank top, boxers, and nothing else.Patting the bed right next to you, you finally got him to come over to you. He sank down next to you on the bed, making sure to immediately cuddle up into you, you then spoke again,“But, before I do I want you to see what the Author’s name was.”

Handing him over the hardcover he looked at the name on the spine with furrowed brows, then letting out a breath of laughter once he read the Author’s last name. He didn’t read often like he had joked earlier, but he definitely could read the big gold leaf cursive letters that said, Edgar Allan Poe. “Woah, that’s cool. He would’ve been cooler if he had Poe for his first name though.” In response to another cheeky comment from him I bonked him on the head with the book before I started to read, “It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived whom you may know By the name of Annabel Lee; And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me. I was a child and she was a child, In this kingdom by the sea, But we loved with a love that was more than love— I and my Annabel Lee— With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven Coveted her and me. And this was the reason that, long ago, In this kingdom by the sea, A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling My beautiful Annabel Lee; So that her highborn kinsmen came And bore her away from me, To shut her up in a sepulchre In this kingdom by the sea.” As you lilted your voice through the poem you could feel Poe sinking down further into relaxation, which was good since he hardly ever relaxed. He was always on the move all the time because of his vast responsibilities as a commander in the resistance. To be honest, you could do with some more relaxation like this in your life, just you, Poe, and a charging BB-8. You must have paused for a second with your reading because Poe looked up at your with his deep caf colored eyes in question, prompting you to continue, “The angels, not half so happy in Heaven, Went envying her and me— Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know, In this kingdom by the sea) That the wind came out of the cloud by night, Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee. But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of those who were older than we— Of many far wiser than we— And neither the angels in Heaven above Nor the demons down under the sea Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride, In her sepulchre there by the sea— In her tomb by the sounding sea. — why are you crying?”

A few small tears had welled up in the corners of Poe’s eyes with one spilling over to run down his scruff covered cheeks. He sniffled a bit, wiping away the tears before speaking, “Just reminded me of you and how much I love you. I don’t like thinking about you dying, I don’t think I could survive.”

Your heart broke a little, but also felt filled with the feeling of love. You knew there were even more dark times ahead in the war, you had both even had a conversation of what would happen if one of you passed. You even had letters that were to be read by the other if something were to happen. Even though you had discussed this before, you agreed with Poe, you never wanted to think about what the galaxy would be like without him.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You ran your fingers through his hair in an attempt to smooth him a bit. You felt a little bad that you had not realized how much it might affect Poe, so you decided to shift the subject to something that hit less close to home, “I’ll read something a bit different. They’re all dark, but I’ll pick one that you’ll enjoy more.”

You then began to read the Cask of Amontillado, which was a story that you both could relate to personally less which meant you could both fully enjoy the story.

“You were right, I liked that one.” He took the book from your hands to inspect the black book further, “How old is this book?”

“I don’t know, probably pretty old. I’ll have to take extra good care of it.”

“Yeah, just as long as that doesn’t become your favorite Poe in your life.” Poe’s signature cheeky grin was back on his face, then tilting his head up to nuzzle his nose with yours.

“Ok, Edgar.” A wide cheeky smile was now on your face, proud of your ‘clever’ new nickname for Poe.

“No no no that nickname better not stick.”

“But- your hair looks so similar to his! Look at all those dark messy curls! I’m keeping the nickname.” You flipped to one of the earlier pages of the book that had a short biography at the front about the author with a print of a portrait of the author. His expression soured once he looked at the portrait, realizing that his curls did in fact, look like the Author’s. He let out a fake disgruntled sigh that did a horrible job of hiding his underlying happiness and flopped down back on the bed to cuddle up with you for the night.

The entire resistance was confused why you had started calling Poe, Edgar whenever you wanted to tease him. But, you guys kept the secret of the tale of two Poe’s, the only people who knew the origins of the nickname were you and your Poe. The nickname definitely wasn’t going anywhere.

—-

Tag list (message me if you want to be added)

All works: @shotarosleftpinky @oreogutz

Poe Dameron/SW:

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron #star wars #oscar isaac #poe dameron imagine #star wars imagine #oscar isaac x reader #1000 followers #1000 follower celebration

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reversecreek · 3 years

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clicks onto the dash wearing kitten heels n coyly holding my bang....... hi. me again. it took me so long to select a gif to use on cricket’s intro n i settled on this one bc he looks so unsure abt his smile n it’s rly his essence <3 u can find his pinterest board here n his (work in progress) spotify playlist here. hmu to plot!!!

* alex wolff, cis male + he/him | you know cricket donahue, right? they’re twenty-two, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, all of their life, on and off? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to should have known better by sufjan stevens like, a million times this year, which slipping on wet leaves to photograph a tree struck alight by lightning, delivering a tedtalk to your own reflection to hype yourself up to buy groceries, hiding your hands inside of your sleeves in case you grew an impromptu megan fox thumb overnight thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is october 1st, so they’re a libra, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( nai, 24, gmt, she/her )

HISTORY:

cricket ws born to a couple tht lived in lilac ridge. their trailer was tucked closest to the woods n always fell under the shade. it was like the leaves wanted to pretend they were a perpetual hanging cloud on the family n that was kind of fitting. their only reason fr having him in the first place was a kind of shrugged like........... we’re under the income bracket we’d get child benefits so why not! may as well try it to rake in some extra cash! needless to say they didn’t rly think it thru or anticipate all of the responsibilities tht came w children n wound up seeing him as an extremely large burden n boy didn’t he know it!

(child neglect & abuse tw) i’ll try to keep this part vague n brief but things were Not Good for cricket growing up. people in lilac ridge didn’t like his parents n it was for a gd reason. he remembers foggy things. being little n wandering around combing the grass with a stick to search for wrappers to suck on bc he was hungry. feeling uneasy when the front door opened. finding out his name was cricket bc the insects used to crawl into their trailer thru the vents n his parents liked to squish them into the carpet -- his mum told him as much once. i think this says a lot. to excessively trim the fat of the story he wound up entering the system at around 8 after his latest and most serious hospital visit. his parents hd to deal w the authorities n last he heard they bounced to evade charges.

(anxiety & violence & trauma tw) cricket sustained a few lifelong injuries from his time in lilac ridge. his knee didn’t heal right which meant he had (n still has to this day) a limp n he’s partially deaf in one ear. he’s always been an incredibly insecure n anxious person so this mde him rly self conscious going into a strange n new environment tht wld b difficult fr any kid to adjust to, nvm w these added worries. he jst felt like something weird to ogle at honestly. he probably wld have felt like that no matter where he was or what he looked like. he cld be in a huge hall of 200 people all wearing the same uniform n he’d still feel like the odd one out. needless to say this didn’t rly help him make friends

cricket’s coping mechanisms were romanticising the things tht other people found ugly or embarrassing or painfully ordinary. he liked it when the rain hit clunky drops against school windows n forbid everyone from playing outside bc he could feel the vibrations through the rubber soles of his shoes n it was a little bit like hearing all of the world at once fr just a moment. he liked medieval fantasy lore about stout gnomes w crumbs in their beards n cheeks red from ale. he liked fallen nests with the remnants of hatched eggs still dirty from the branches n soil they’d hit on the way down. he liked the way the sunlight leaked thru the leaves of the trees in the woods and how, when he sat very still, he could tune into the ringing that was always in his ear n pretend it was coming from the same place, that light thru the leaves, that the angels were trying to talk to him.

he spent a lot of time in the red room at his high skl (i’m begging u this is not a 50 shades reference) (after googling i jst realised it’s called a darkroom bt i’m leaving this fr the sake of sexy bimbo authenticity) n felt quite at home in there. he borrowed a camera whenever he cld (maybe he did yearbook) n photography became his way of immortalising the world as the romanticised version he wanted it to be. his memories were bad bt his photos were beautiful. maybe if he took enough they’d paste over n bleed into each other. maybe bad cld be replaced w beautiful if he tried his very best.

he got placed into fostering w a family once bt apparently didn’t meet the vibe check of their tastes so he wound up returning to the group home he’d initially been placed in. overall this is where he grew up n he aged out the system rather than getting adopted. there was a sense of floundering/isolation/not feeling gd enough in tht bt cricket made do the best he knew how.

that said there were some gd points! (shocking i kno bc his life hs been so fking bleak so far bt please it’s ok........) (is it?) (🤔). basically he interned as an assistant at this local photography studio during high skl working under this kind of whimsical yet endearing old man. suspected wizard possibly in cricket’s eyes, as an avid fantasy genre reader. for one of his bdays said old man / his boss bought him his very own film camera n cricket cried bc he’d never been bought a bday gift. this ws rly embarrassing bc this old man didn’t know how to emote n neither did cricket so he ws jst sort of sat wiping his eyes n sniffling saying he wasn’t crying as the old man pretended to suddenly clean his lenses. when cricket graduated he offered him a full time position there. they do like. wedding photographs n family portraits n all kinds of things...... pay isn’t huge bt it’s something n he Loves taking photos so it’s sexy <3

PERSONALITY:

SUCH an anxious person it’s actually unreal. overthinks absolutely everything he’s ever said. one morning he might hv put green socks on n for the rest of the day he’s nervously looking around like omggggggg they’re all looking at my socks probably thinking im a little green sock boy thinking i’m a fool n a jester this is all everyone’s probably thinking about i hv to hide my green socks..... even tho literally no-one cares

once saw a girl eating a chicken wing n in his head was like ok she likes chicken good future gift idea..... n turned up at her house with an entire rotisserie chicken

probably thinks WAY too hard abt what to write in bday cards n googles like generic ideas that he can use.... u open a card from cricket n it always says smthn weird like “Warmest wishes and love on your birthday and always!” or “You deserve everything happy. Wishing you that all year long!” tht he got off google

nervously fiddles w things a lot. literally anything. his hair. the cuffs of his sleeves. a thread on his bag. u name it

struggles w eye contact sometimes............ it’s like. he wants to talk to ppl n make friends bt he’s honestly so bad at it. he’s fumbling thru life like a nervous headless chicken

ALWAYS has his camera on him. like always. will tke a photo of u bc he thinks u look nice then be like im so sorry im so sorry...... bowing his head shakily holding his camera bc he doesn’t even kno what possessed him he jst thought it’d be a nice photograph bt boundaries exist. probably breathes very heavily over this later in his room panicking thinking he nw seems like hannibal lecter

probably more confident online bc he has time to think abt what he says more.......... i can see him hving a group of online friends tht he’s more confident w. honestly he’s pretty witty at heart he jst has a hard time verbalising things so ppl overlook him sometimes bt once u get to know him more / he’s more comfy he can b a funny little man.....

loves photographs where he cuts something out of them. loves missing spaces n voids. thinks it’s a rly interesting concept when something that isn’t there becomes the focus of a photograph where everything else is. probably loses his mind fr a collage like a front row 1d stan. likes experimenting w light n perception. pretty artistic honestly hs probably made a stop motion film in the past bc that’s just an extended form of photography in his mind bt i doubt he showed anyone

ummm...... very sweet bt like. he reminds me a lot of this quote. “he had the awkward tenderness of someone who has never been loved and is forced to improvise.” feel like tht sums him up quite nicely

WANTED CONNECTIONS

someone he met at a wedding: cricket probably ws forced to photograph a wedding fr his boss one time n it cld b interesting as a place to meet from that....... like. i can imagine either it being rly awkward maybe he accidentally spilled a drink on ur muse n was stuttering rly apologetic n it ws just a train wreck. or mayb they took pity on him or even (in a shocking turn of events) a shine to him n invited him to drink n dance. omgggg the thought of cricket trying to dance makes me wna die n probably mkes cricket wna hyperventilate bt idk maybe he went wild n let loose. mayb they wound up damaging the camera somehow. mayb they had to scramble to get another one n ur muse covered the cost n it was a strange late night excursion tht cricket thought about a lot since. cricket probably vowed to pay them bk somehow no matter what. idk. we can work things out. lots of diff options here. doesn’t have to b a wedding either can b any event tht required a photographer

ppl he went to school w: pretty self explanatory i suppose...... maybe they were frm completely different worlds..... mayb ur muse was popular n cricket was definitely not but they got paired fr an assignment n had to work on a project together....... mayb cricket asked ur muse on a date one time n it was completely embarrassing bc he didn’t realise they had a bf n it haunts cricket at night still bc he’s rly dramatic.... mayb ur muse felt sry fr him n ate lunch w him n inducted him into their group like a lost puppy finding a home.... world’s our oyster

neighbours from his brief time at lilac ridge: not to reference taylor swift but i’m gna reference taylor swift n say we cld do a seven inspired plot here. sighs a little..... then sighs a lot. he was here ages 0-8 so idk. we cld work out childhood plots perhaps....

sickening simp: i mean.............. cricket probably gets crushes on ppl so easily like just. anyone who’s the slightest bit nice to him.................. he’s a disgrace. ok i take it back. bt also please get it together freak............... i didn’t say that. he’d probably b extra nice to this person n try n pay close attention to things they liked so he cld get them little gifts. just a bit embarrassing n lovestruck bless his heart. wldn’t expect anything back tho honestly that just isn’t something he tends to do.

let’s go gays: cricket’s bi but he probably was rly in his head abt liking boys n tried to sort of squash it internally during his younger yrs...... i think he’s more comfy w it now MAYBE idk bt back then i picture him having a friend tht ws kind of like. similarly loserish as him perhaps (no offence to ur muse potentially filling this plot or cricket bt let’s face the facts) n they’d hang out n play games a lot n one time it jst kind of happened n he was like............. *struts in looking around sharply* What going on here? except not. bc it’s cricket. more like *shambles in looking around anxiously* What’s, uh... What’s... the happenings? S--... I’m sorry. (immediate apology for saying what’s the happenings bc nobody talks like that n it was an impulsive panic bc he didn’t know what else to say)

those who grew up in the system w him: maybe at the group home or i’d also like the family that fostered him n said sayonara. honestly i imagine the parents just thought he ws a bit too much of a handful / had too much baggage which is rly quite merciless n terrible but. if u think that aligns w ur muses home situation hmu......

um. can’t think of more bt just anything honestly. jst go wild.......

#irvingintro #abuse tw #neglect tw #trauma tw #anxiety tw #violence tw #DOES A LITTLE JIG #admittedly i didnt include a formative moments section like my other intros bc idk what kind of superpowers i was inhaling the fumes of #for those intros but #i'm a mere mortal now.

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khiphop-discussions · 3 years

Note

Chillin Homie got hospitalized AGAIN due to depression and panic disorder. (I know this made me easily upset everytime I saw upsetting things while I am recovering but I had to tell this urgently.) I hope he will apologize truthfully for his past mistakes because I am so worried. I don't know what's next and I don't want to get much worse than this. Anyway, how's your past weeks going? ~Queennie (from the deactivated Tumblr account @heart-bleeding-autism-angel)

OK so here are some facts (some of this might be WILDLY triggering so definitely tw:suice tw:suicide attempt tw:suicidal ideation tw:drug abuse and I will put these in the tags as well):

1. Chillin Homie DID apologize for the whole live that he did. He made a whole apology as well as explained why his mental health has been declining. His label Groovl1n apologized as well.

2. Chillin Homie was ALREADY overdosed on that live! He had already taken AT LEAST 35 pills. There’s translation that say that by his own admission he took at least forty (I don’t 100% trust this for reasons I’ll explain in a bit). He only took like...5 on the live (DEFINITELY less than 10). As soon as he spoke on that live, you could hear his slurred speech. I don’t think I’ll EVER forget it. And it’s one of the most prominent things I remember from that live. Slurred speech is a symptom of overdose. I originally thought he might have been drinking heavy but after putting all the pieces together it was the pills. He was OVERDOSED already. He was damn near dying in that live, ok? Had he not posted that story, done the live, and then posted the ig post after the live (not the apology but the one before that that has since been deleted) I’m almost 100% sure he’d be dead right now. Pretty scary. For people who did not watch that whole thing go down (I DEFINITELY did from the story post, to the live, to the ig timeline post, to groovl1n’s update, to his apology), I don’t think you guys understand. This was SOOOO serious.

3. Number 2 isn’t just to garner sympathy because at this point it you don’t feel it then you just won’t. It’s to drive home a point. All of what he said was A) under the influence of drugs B) under EXTREME mental distress C) while he was on the verge of dying. To put this in perspective if you still don’t understand, if he had committed a crime the law would have trouble figuring out what to do with him. He’d likely be committed to a mental health institution of some sort. After that IDK what happens. They can either prosecute once he gets out or drop the charges. But it will probably depend on the severity of the crime and the mental stability after they are out of the mental health facility. Not to say I 100% agree with the law, but I kinda agree here. I don’t know how much accountability I can really give someone who was going through the bolded. This is not like someone getting on IG live fully sober and saying whatever crazy shit. This dude was not in his right mind that night. So I’m not about to keep harping on this someone said during a whole suicide attempt where they were overdosed and tried to take even more because...I guess they weren’t dying fast enough?

4. Back to why I don’t know whether to 100% trust the forty pills figure he gave out. Well, I kinda explained why in number 3. He wasn’t in his right mind so IDK if he knew how much he really took. He may have miscalculated and took even MORE or less or he could be right on the money. Regardless of how many he took, he was definitely overdosed.

I’m gonna be honest. This situation was upsetting for me. Like I said the WHOLE day after that happened I could see his face from that live in my head. I was worried af and I really didn’t know what was gonna happen. This happened at around 11-11:30AM PST. We didn’t get an update until around 6 or 7 PM PST. I wasn’t sure if I had watched his last moments before dying or if he was gonna be disabled in some way or what. That was WILD. Luckily he was relatively ok.

My thing is this, it’s OK to just leave him alone right now. IDK why people keep saying shit? Like why KEEP poking at someone who is suicidal and severely mentally ill. It’s like people won’t be satisfied until he actually dies no matter what he says or does. It’s crazy that people are still trying to bring negativity but then in the same breath are like “I hope he gets well BUT...” no but. Either hope he gets well or not. That “but” implies you don’t truly give a shit (which by the way that’s fine. It’s your right to like or dislike whoever) so just shut up or own the fact that you wanna keep piling on this dude.

My thing is, there’s people in Khiphop that I don’t like but you would never see me keep picking at them during/immediately after suicide attempt. Even in “normal” times I say my piece about whatever happened and then move on. I don’t particularly like to keep dragging it on. It’s not even really productive or useful to keep up with all the news of someone I dislike and think are misogynistic or racist or whatever the fuck.

tl;dr: The man was suicidal, overdosed, mentally ill, and damn near dying. I don’t know if I can truly hold him accountable for much? Plus, he apologized. We can’t even get those from people when they are SOBER and in the right head space these days. It’s cool if people don’t wanna fuck with him cause of his comments about feminists and don’t accept the apology, that’s their business but just leave him alone. What do you get out of keeping on picking at him?

(final thoughts) Overall, I REALLY hope he’s okay and overcomes this. And I’m glad his taking his mental health into his own hands and really trying. Despite ALL this shit going on, he’s REALLY trying. He gave an APOLOGY after one day out of the hospital. When he should have been resting!?! It seems like he’s being responsible as shit for a 21 year old (starting from dropping out of SMTM9 instead of pushing on for the money. That’s a mature ass decision and thought process to know that health > wealth). And he’s truly trying his best to get a handle on all this shit. I’m not gonna lie, I’m kinda scared for him. Especially after being in that live. But I TRULY hope he recovers. He has already beaten anxiety before but now it seems he’s struggling mentally so much worse now.

#asks #chillin homie #tw:suicide #tw:suicidal ideation #tw:drug abuse #tw:suicide attempt #Anonymous

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bloodpacks-archive · 4 years

Text

false god

word count: 5.7 babey

summary: it’s fuckin chandrila!reader x obi-wan kenobi bro idk she’s poltically charged and ready to fight and I love her and so does obi-wan let’s go

warnings/note: none. idk. politics. but. star wars. but also lowkey me ranting abt how i hate america. u can choose to interpret it that way or not. i do not care. it is 2 AM as i’m writing this. there’s not even violence. so my advice is to just enjoy it. also. u know what. i would die if obi-wan did to me what his does to padme in this gif. so enjoy that too. also i should learn how to make those header shits for fics i am tired of this layout. ALSO please send me prompts to write more abt these two i love them and will probably write shit abt them no matter what so. anyway im going to bed ENJOY

The sun just barely shines through the clouds on Chandrila. The air is cold, biting at Obi-Wan’s skin a bit more than it had on Coruscant. From beside him, Anakin pulls his jacket tighter around himself. Even five years after Tatooine, he still struggled in the cold. But as they walk through the streets of the lower sector on their new assignment, Obi-Wan can’t help but smile at the way his padawan crosses his arms.

“Cold?” He asks Anakin, not letting his eyes break from the path ahead of him. He hears Anakin let out a sigh beside him.

“I’ll be fine, Master,” He replies. Obi-Wan glances over at him for just a moment, eyebrows furrowed as he looks over him.

“I’m sure we’ll find a place to stay soon.” He brings a hand and places it on Anakin’s shoulder, for just a moment. He shivers at the touch, and Obi-Wan decides to walk a little faster.

They’re here under strict orders to gather intel on the lower sectors, both of them out of their usual, warmer robes and in outfits a bit more fitting to the area. Obi-Wan scans the city as he walks, making note of the towering buildings, the signs that hang out into the street, colorful and a bit too bright for his own liking. He catches sight of a market up ahead, and quickly guides Anakin forward. It’s lively there, large groups of people passing between each other and surrounding various vendors.

As he gets closer, Obi-Wan quickly realizes that what he once believed to be a place where he could find shelter is rather a place of chaos. He can barely see over the heads of the crowds, and trying to catch the words on any signs is proving difficult. Anakin pulls him forward, slowly making their way out of the middle of the crowd and into less dense areas. Still, both their eyes wander about the market. Obi-Wan considers for just a moment if he should ask someone for help.

“Are you lost?” They both turn, coming face to face with a girl. She has a hood on, but her eyes are still visible. There’s a softness to them, something he isn’t sure he could explain, but he feels… safe. Oddly enough, she seems safe. Concern flows off of her in waves, and he decides that they don’t particularly have much to lose. And if they do, well, there’s a lightsaber hidden on him anyway. They’ll find a way.

“We’re just looking for a place to stay,” Obi-Wan explains. He notices the way her eyes flit over to Anakin, who—despite being fourteen—still looks young for his age. Her lips purse for a moment, and then she brings her gaze back up to Obi-Wan.

“I can help you, if you’d like,” She replies. Her voice is soft, careful in every sense of the word. “We have some extra room back home.”

Obi-Wan pauses for a moment, but then he glances over at Anakin, who’s still pulling his jacket tighter around himself, and quickly agrees.

She guides them out of the market with ease. Obi-Wan makes note of the small pack hanging off her shoulders, wondering, if only for a moment, what might be in it. She moves her hood to hide a majority of her face as they walk, but he finds that when the sun hits it just right through the clouds, her silhouette becomes visible through the thin fabric. He absently wonders what the purpose of the thin hood could possibly be in this kind of cold.

As the crowd begins to dwindle, she slows her pace, coming to walk beside him and Anakin. She looks over at the two of them, and pulls her hood back slightly, allowing her hair to poke out around the edges. He can see her eyes again, and they still hold that same softness to them, something that screams a want to help others. He can’t quite place it.

They’re trustworthy, Obi-Wan thinks, as she glances between them.

“So are you two brothers then?” She asks. Before Obi-Wan can react, Anakin is already speaking, finally beginning to forget the cold.

“Yeah, something like that,” He says, and she smiles down at him, kind and welcoming in the way her lips quirk at his voice.

“We have a lot of that here,” She replies. Obi-Wan furrows his eyebrows, tilting his head at her only slightly.

“What do you mean?”

“You must be fairly new to the lower sectors.” She sighs, holding her gaze forward for a while before speaking again. “Lots of us were abandoned. It- It gets hard down here. When we get to the house you’ll see it. None of us are related by blood, necessarily, but we’re family.” She turns once again, her eyes flitting between Obi-Wan and Anakin. “I have to assume it was the same for you.”

They walk for a while longer, a silence settling between the three of them. Obi-Wan has a habit of checking up on Anakin every few seconds, and whenever he looks over, his eyes are flitting about the city. From the dirty, poorly maintained apartments down on their level, to the shiny speeders up above. Obi-Wan can’t help but feel that all of it is slightly unjust. Especially if what the girl says is true.

Abandonment, he thinks. Surely, no one would abandon someone to a life like this.

“I don’t believe I ever caught your names,” She says suddenly.

“Ben,” He replies.

“And you can just call me Ani,” Anakin says from next to him. Obi-Wan smiles at that, and Anakin earns a bit of laughter from the girl next to them.

“Ani and Ben, huh? I like that.” And she smiles, for the first time since meeting her. It’s polite in nature, not quite reaching her eyes, but Obi-Wan finds it pretty nevertheless.

He really has to shake himself out of thinking she’s pretty.

“And what’s your name?” Obi-Wan asks then.

She replies, with a lilt to her voice that makes him want to lean in closer. Her name is lovely. And he knows he isn’t supposed to have attachments, and he won’t. But he’s allowed to be a little curious, right? It’s not his fault that he has a habit of wondering.

Specifically, he’s wondering what her smile looks like when it does reach her eyes.

But he’s only wondering.

—————

They reach the apartment a few moments later. It’s a few floors above base level, and surprisingly well kept. He notices a twi’lek girl working at a desk in the corner, and there’s a boy who glances up from the datapad he’d been attentively scrolling through. His eyes flit between the three of them, and then he gets a bit of a breathless smile on his face.

“Now who’d you bring home today?” He asks, amusement mixing with his voice.

“Shut it, Luca,” She replies, and Obi-Wan almost expects her to roll her eyes before she breaks into soft laughter, throwing the nearest pillow at him. The boy—Luca, glares at her after he catches the pillow, just a few moments before it would’ve hit him square in the face. Obi-Wan has to hold back a smile.

“Anyway,” She begins, “This is Ben and Ani. They needed a place to stay.”

Luca turns to them, offering a small wave before he, finally, is able to focus on his datapad in peace. She makes her way over to the desk where the twi’lek is sitting, putting her arms on the girl’s shoulders and making her finally look up from whatever she was working on.

“And this is Le’Ana. She’s too busy working on her jewelry to pay attention to either of you.”

Le’Ana glances over at Obi-Wan and Anakin, giving a quiet wave before exchanging looks with the other girl. She rolls her eyes at Le’Ana, and something passes between them that Obi-Wan can’t quite understand.

“Hey, why don’t you give the kid my bed tonight? I can take the couch,” Le’Ana says. She’s playing with a piece of jewelry, letting it twist in her hands.

“Oh no, I couldn’t. We really don’t want to intrude-“ Anakin starts, but then she stands in front of them, hands on her hips while she shakes her head.

“We’re the ones who brought you here. You’re not intruding by any means,” She replies. She places a hand on Anakin’s shoulder, and he smiles up at her, silently giving her his thanks. And then she turns to Obi-Wan, soft smile on her face.

“It’s getting late. You should both head to bed.” She glances over at Anakin once more, laughing slightly at how his eyes are half-closed, sleep pulling at him. “Le’Ana’s room is just down the hall. There’s two beds in there for you.”

“Thank you for everything,” Obi-Wan replies. She simply smiles at him, before turning to speak with Luca.

The room is small—not much bigger than anything either of them would’ve slept in while on a ship—but it’s certainly got a personality to it. Pieces of jewelry hang off of hooks in one of the corners, each one intricately made. Anakin walks over to inspect the pieces, curiosity alight in his expression.

“Don’t touch, Anakin.”

“I know, Master, I won’t.” He turns, offering Obi-Wan an innocent look. He rolls his eyes at Anakin as he takes off his robe, folding it neatly to store in the space beneath the bed.

“You’re tired, Anakin. You should sleep, we have a lot of work ahead of us.”

He simply nods in response, shedding his robe and taking off his boots before settling into the bed across from Obi-Wan’s.

“Master, what is it, exactly, that we’re looking for?”

Obi-Wan lowers his voice, leaning in closer to Anakin as he speaks, “There’ve been talks of Separatist cells down on these lower levels. We’re simply gathering intel, running an investigation of sorts, and then leaving.”

Anakin nods, his eyebrows slightly furrowed together, but he drops it, moving to finally lay down in his bed. Obi-Wan does the same, letting his eyes fall shut.

—————

Obi-Wan can’t sleep. Anakin is soundly asleep beside him, chest rising and falling at a steady rhythm. Obi-Wan sits up, stretching his back and his neck, before grabbing his robe and padding outside and into the hallway, shutting the door quietly behind him. He shrugs on his robe, pulling it tightly around him. The air had grown colder as the night came, and a draft found its way into the apartment.

As he comes to the main room, he sees Le’Ana, fast asleep on the couch with a blanket wrapped tightly around her. He smiles. She looks peaceful.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Obi-Wan turns, and sees her sitting on the counter. Obi-Wan makes a concerned face as he glances in Le’Ana’s direction. “She’s fine. She sleeps through anything.”

Obi-Wan moves towards her, watching as she swings her feet over the edge of the counter she’s chosen to sit on. She’s without her hood this time, instead donning some loose-fitting pants and a t-shirt, a blanket draped around her shoulders. A mug of caf rests in her hands, and she moves as he approaches, grabbing a mug and pouring some of the extra caf she brewed into it. She hands it to Obi-Wan and he gladly takes it, letting the mug warm his hands.

“I guess you couldn’t sleep either?” Obi-Wan leans against the counter next to her, taking a sip from his mug.

“Never can,” She sighs. He glances up, eyes flitting across her face. She looks tired, but then she catches his eye and gives him another smile. “Wanna go for a walk?”

And he only nods, stepping away to allow her to get off the counter, both of them leaving their mugs behind. She trades the blanket around her shoulders for a long coat, and offers Obi-Wan one as well. He gladly takes it, wrapping it around himself as she leads him out into the city.

The moons are surprisingly bright despite the city lights. They shine onto the pathways, giving the city a pretty glow.

“I used to take walks like these a lot when I was younger,” She says. Obi-Wan stays quiet, watching her as she speaks. “I used to live farther into the outer reaches of Hanna City. Back then, I could walk for maybe two klicks and be out on the hills by the rivers.”

“Do you miss it?” He asks. She lets a breath of laughter pass her lips.

“More than you’d know. When I first moved here I would make the walk anyway but,” She pauses, sighing, “Hanna City isn’t what it used to be.”

A speeder passes over their heads, the soft whoosh causing them both to glance up.

“How has the city changed?” Obi-Wan asks. He notices the way her eyebrows furrow, the way her gaze falls to the ground. He silently hopes he hasn’t struck a nerve.

“Do you want to go out to the hills? We can talk there.”

And so they do. It takes them nearly 45 minutes to get to the outskirts of the city, and another 20 to get to the hills, but the moons are still bright, and the further they walk, the brighter the stars become. Eventually, they come to a point where the river is low, and they can sit on the grass nearby while still listening to the soft flow of water.

Obi-Wan looks over to her, and sees her staring back at the city, the lights softly reflecting in her eyes. They flutter shut for a moment, and she takes a breath.

“I used to think Hanna City was as perfect as any place could be,” She whispers.

“What changed?”

“I started listening. When I was younger, everywhere you turned there was a message saying you can be who you want to be. I believed that. For a very long time, I believed that Chandrila was the place where you could be anyone.”

She moves her gaze to her feet, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear before she lays her arms over her knees, lightly resting her chin there.

“I want to believe it, I really do but-“ her eyes close, “-I’ve seen so much, Ben.”

Obi-Wan, quietly, cautiously, raises his hand to her shoulder. She leans into his touch, letting him slowly rub his thumb back and forth across the cloth there.

“And now there’s separatist groups down here and while I don’t know if I agree with the Separatists,” She pauses, her eyes meeting Obi-Wan’s, “I understand their reasons for supporting them.”

“I didn’t know there was much conflict on Chandrila,” Obi-Wan says.

“There never used to be. But we were all told from a young age that this was the world of opportunity. Now we’re grown up and- and we can’t find jobs, or proper housing, or anything, really. Le’Ana, Luca, and I, we’re lucky. Le’Ana’s managed to make quite a bit from her jewelry from time to time, and Luca’s been able to fix up droids for an alright living.”

“I have to assume that’s not how it’s been for everyone,” Obi-Wan replied. She sighs again, and then brings her eyes up to meet his. They’re worn, but caring nevertheless.

“Certainly not. I mean, even for me, I’m between jobs at the moment, to say the least.”

A beat of silence passes between them before she smiles up at him, moonlight dancing across her cheeks, and turns to fully face him, legs criss-crossed and chin resting in one of her palms.

“But that’s enough about me. What’s your story, Ben?” His false name falls past her lips with a playfulness he could certainly come to enjoy. He laughs, leaning back a bit as he wraps an arm around one knee.

“I’m afraid there’s not much of a story to tell,” He answers. She rolls her eyes at him, leaning forward to push his shoulder back while he laughs at her.

“There’s always a story to tell.” She tilts her head at him, narrowing her eyes playfully as she thinks of a question to ask. “Where are you from?”

“I don’t know my home planet, but I was raised on Coruscant,” He answers, truthfully. There’s a bit of wonder in her expression at the mention of Coruscant, and he lets his lips quirk up in a smile.

“Is it really as nice there as everyone says?” She asks.

“It has its problems, just like Chandrila, but I did love it there.”

“So why’d you leave?”

“I had business elsewhere.”

She rolls her eyes again. “You’re being elusive.”

“I told you there’s not much of a story,” Obi-Wan explains.

“Or perhaps you’re hiding something from me.” She leans in close, he can see the way her eyes flicker across his face, the way the moonlight illuminates every aspect of her. He’s exceptionally curious.

“Now why would I do that?” He replies. A smile tugs at his lips. And then she laughs, softly, letting her head fall towards his chest. Her fatigue is getting to her, he can tell. But then she sits back again, and then she lays down, her fingers playing with a blade of grass above her head as she looks up at the stars.

“Well then,” She begins, her eyes flit over to him, “if you don’t have a story, what do you wish it was?”

Obi-Wan thinks for a moment, of Qui-Gon, of him training Anakin. He thinks of the rules of the Jedi. He can’t help but admit that, on occasion, he wishes the rules were a little more… lenient. But most of all, he wishes there to be no threat to the galaxy. He wishes for the Jedi to be peacekeepers and simply that. He wishes there were no Sith, that he hadn’t killed the first Sith in centuries. He wishes he still had Qui-Gon’s wisdom, however turbulent he may have been at times.

“I wish it was happier,” He replies, finally.

Her hand, the one that was playing with the blade of grass, moves then, instead going to wrap her fingers around his. A gesture of comfort. Her eyes meet his, and there’s a soft smile upon her face.

“Me too,” She whispers.

The sky is slowly becoming brighter in front of them, so she rises, pulling Obi-Wan up with her.

“We should head back, before Ani thinks you got kidnapped.”

“He’d live.”

She gives him a look, lightly hitting him on the shoulder as they begin their walk back.

“Hey,” She whispers after a few moments, “Thanks for walking with me. It’s been so long since I’ve been out here.”

“It was much better than staring at the ceiling until the sun rose.”

“Maybe,” She teases, “But we really should’ve brought our caf with us.”

Obi-Wan lets a breath of laughter pass his lips. He finds that his curiosity about her is continually growing. He can’t help it. The more she talks, the more he wants to listen, and the closer he wants to be. From what he’s seen, she’s calming, caring, lovely in every aspect. And she seems genuine.

He hates being curious.

—————

The next night, Obi-Wan awakens when the moons are still bright. Once again, he finds himself making his way to the main room, the moonlight guiding him through the halls. And there she is, perched on the counter amid the food items he’d bought (as a thank you) earlier that day, quietly sipping on her caf.

“Do you ever sleep?” He asks as he approaches. She just shrugs, already handing him a mug.

“There’s a lot to think about at night,” She replies. Obi-Wan takes his spot next to her, leaning on the counter as they quietly speak, attempting to not disturb Le’Ana.

“Like?”

“Oh, the state of Chandrila, how nobody’s doing anything about it, the lies I’ve been told since I was a child.” She waves her hand about as she talks, swaying with her words. “That sort of thing.”

“You seem to be very politically charged.”

She turns, “Are you not?”

“Oh trust me, I have my opinions.” They both pause, sipping on their caf and watching moonlight softly pool in from the window. “Have you ever considered running for an office?”

“Plenty,” She says. “But I think I’d rather work in the background. The forefront seems… too much for me.”

“Do you have any ideas?” Obi-Wan asks. She smiles at him, carefully hopping off the counter. She walks towards the hallway.

“C’mon,” She says. Obi-Wan hesitates, just for a moment. “I promise nothing’ll hurt you.” There’s a smirk on her lips as she motions him towards her room.

She grabs his wrist as they enter, just barely, her touch light and airy. Her fingertips brush his skin there and it draws Obi-Wan in.

She places a datapad on a desk, motioning at the chair for Obi-Wan to sit. He watches carefully as she works, pulling up some file. Hope, is its label.

“I think I’m most proud of this one,” She says. She sets the datapad in front of him, leaning over his shoulders.

And in front of him, there’s ideas for policies. All under one common theme, to make the dream of Chandrila a reality. For everyone. Better orphanage systems, job stimulation, efforts to make housing more affordable.

And then, no more forgotten children. An effort to take kids off the streets and into better environments. Providing them with schooling and the resources to further their education or find jobs, whichever they should prefer.

“This is…” Obi-Wan can’t even finish. Every policy has a specific plan, an idea on how to achieve the goals. They aren’t all perfect, but they’re something. They’re actions.

“I don’t want any more kids to go through what Le’Ana, Luca, or I did,” She whispers.

Obi-Wan turns, “How are you going to get this out there?”

She moves so she leans on the desk, looking down at Obi-Wan as she speaks.

“I have an interview tomorrow. It’s with a potential senator.”

Without even thinking, Obi-Wan grabs her hand.

“That’s,” Obi-Wan lets out a breath, “Amazing.”

She glances down at where their hands are, his lightly holding onto hers. Obi-Wan watches her, and consciously, he knows he should move his hand, knows that this is beyond improper and knows that this is wrong.

He doesn’t.

She moves her hand, moonlight dancing between their fingers, and intertwines them.

“I feel like I’ve known you for a thousand lifetimes,” She whispers. “You’re oddly easy to talk to you.”

Her soft laughter fills the room.

“It’s because I’m so charming,” Obi-Wan replies. She rolls her eyes, lightly hitting his shoulder with her free hand.

“I take it back, you’re annoying.”

Silence passes between them. Her eyes lock with his and—there it is again. That curiosity. Obi-Wan swears it’ll be the death of him.

Her hand delicately moves to his face. Her fingers brush his cheek. He leans into the touch, not entirely sure of what he’s doing, but he finds he doesn’t particularly care. It’s happy here.

“Ben,” She whispers again, “Tell me if this isn’t what you want.”

He considers it, for just a moment. He hesitates. But the thing is—he wants to know what it’s like to kiss her. And so, for just a moment, he indulges in that curiosity. He leans forward, carefully, and kisses her. His hand goes up, tangling his fingers in her hair.

It’s happy here. In this moment, it’s warm. In this moment, the moonlight feels as though it is covering every inch of his body. In this moment, he feels as though he could stay here forever.

—————

When Anakin and Obi-Wan arrive back to the apartment from gathering intel the next day, she’s already gone to her interview. Luca’s working on an astromech as they all wait, eagerly, for her return.

“She’s been waiting on this for forever,” He says as he grabs another tool.

“She seemed awfully excited this morning,” Le’Ana speaks up from her desk. “But I don’t think she’s been sleeping much.”

“She never does when these things come up,” Luca replies. “Hey, Le’Ana, could I borrow-“

She’s already tossing the tool, something small that Obi-Wan can’t quite make out, before he’s even finished the sentence. He catches it, giving her a nod of thanks before he continues his work.

“How often does she have these interviews?” Anakin asks. Le’Ana shrugs.

“It’s been about two months since her last one, but it’s so sporadic.”

“We never really know what’s gonna happen,” Luca says.

The apartment returns to silence. Minutes pass that feel like hours. The holonet is playing on the table in front of Obi-Wan and Anakin, but neither of them are truly paying attention.

And then there’s the soft sounds of the door opening, and she walks in. She looks exhausted. Her eyes are low, her shoulders have fallen. She moves through the main room without really looking at anyone. Obi-Wan’s gaze follows her.

“Hey-“ Luca begins, but Le’Ana cuts him off with a look. The door to her room closes softly behind her, and the main room is left with a silence that feels much worse than before.

“I’ll go check on her,” Obi-Wan says. He can feel Anakin’s gaze on him as he gets up, but he continues anyway.

He closes the door behind him, and sees her sitting on her bed, head in her hands. He sits beside her, his hand going to her back. His touch is quiet, barely there, but she still leans into it.

“I’m so tired of this,” She says, muffled by her hands. Obi-Wan stays quiet, letting her continue. “I keep believing in the stupid notion that I can change things.”

“You can-“

“No! I can’t Ben!” She looks up then, her eyes watery as her eyes catch his. His chest sinks. “I’m sorry,” She whispers, “I’m not yelling at you I’m just so frustrated.”

“This wasn’t the one, that’s okay,” He says.

“I only have one chance left,” She replies. “There’s only one more candidate, and if I don’t get a job-“ She sighs, “I don’t even want to think about it.”

They stay quiet for just a moment.

“It’s just-“ She begins, “I’ve been told my entire life that I would find opportunity here. I was told that this was the place to be if you wanted to change things. If you wanted to work and help others, this was the place to do it.”

She stands up then, moving away from Obi-Wan as she stands near the front of her room.

“But I was lied to,” She says. “My entire kriffing I was lied to!”

Obi-Wan stays on her bed, watching as she paces back and forth, her voice gaining volume.

“All of the kriffing posters, the messages, the ads on the holonet, all of it, was a lie! They told me I could be whatever the hell I wanted to be here! I never wanted to be kriffing jobless!—Depending on two kids that I was supposed to help.” She turns to Obi-Wan, “I was supposed to be the one helping them! I can’t deal with all these lies anymore, Ben, I-“

“Obi-Wan,” He whispers.

“What?” She asks. She stops her pacing, she looks frozen.

“My name. It’s not Ben, It’s Obi-Wan.”

“You’re joking with me, right? You’re not-“

“I’m being serious, I promise.”

Obi-Wan can’t bring himself to look up at her. He knows this was for a mission, that he had to be careful about it, but he can’t help how awful he feels.

“What else have you lied about?” Her voice is broken, wavering.

“Nothing,” He replies.

“Is that why you wouldn’t tell me anything about who you are? Because the entire time you were lying to me anyway?”

“I promise-“

“Stop with the promises!”

He looks up. He regrets it. She looked exhausted before but, here, now, she looks betrayed.

“I wanted to tell you.”

“Why couldn’t you?” She asks.

And once again, Obi-Wan hesitates.

“I- I can’t tell you that-“

“Get out,” She whispers. “Please. Leave.”

Obi-Wan and Anakin leave Chandrila later that night, when the air is cold and the moonlight is shining on the streets.

—————

Coruscant is especially warm this time of year. Obi-Wan’s hair has grown longer since those days on Chandrila a year ago, now sweeping around the side of his face elegantly rather than awkwardly kept short. And what was once just stubble has turned into a beard, which Anakin has described his adamant hatred for quite often. Obi-Wan keeps it partially to annoy him.

But it’s a year later when Obi-Wan and Anakin are called to guard Senator Mon Mothma on her visit to Coruscant. The assignment brings back memories. Ones that Obi-Wan wishes he could forget. He often lays at night, watching one of Coruscant’s many moons, and thinks about that night on the hills, or the night in her room.

He hates how he still feels that curiosity. And he hates how he still feels that sinking in his chest when he thinks of her.

Obi-Wan and Anakin stand on the landing port, patiently waiting for the transport to arrive with the Senator and her team. Master Windu is with them, fully prepared to give introductions when the time is right.

In the distance, Obi-Wan sees the transport. He straightens his shoulders and back, and Anakin follows him, both of them with their hands behind their backs. The transport lands with ease, guards stepping out before the Senator and the rest of her advisors.

Obi-Wan closes his eyes to take a breath, and when he opens them, he swears he’s seen a ghost.

Because what once was an exhausted young girl, with barely anything to her name. A girl who looked out at the stars with him the first night she’d met him, a girl whose laugh felt like home, and a girl who kicked him out a year ago, was now standing in front of him. Her hair had gotten shorter, and now she stood before him in regalia that was elegant enough to combat the Senator’s.

Where she once had her thin hood and her baggy comfortable pants, she now had red, formal pants with a white and gold top. Her gaze first met Master Windu’s, and then her eyes quickly scanned the room before, finally, landing on Obi-Wan.

And then, suddenly, she had that same caring look.

“Senator,” Master Windu said, “It’s wonderful to have you here on Coruscant. Master Kenobi and his padawan Anakin Skywalker will be escorting you throughout your time here.”

“Thank you, Master Windu,” The Senator replied.

Obi-Wan’s eyes flick back to her throughout the entire night. As he and Anakin guide the Senator, he finds that his curiosity has come back. He wants to know what she’s thinking. How she’s feeling. If she’s as much of a mess as he is.

It’s a lot, all at once.

That night, in his temporary room, just a few doors down from the Senator, he finds himself watching the moons again when there’s a soft knock on his door.

“Come in,” He replies, and he’s met with the sound of someone coming from behind him. He’s too busy watching the moonlight to turn, he already knows who it is.

“It’s not exactly the Chandrilan skies, but I suppose it’ll do,” She says. She comes up beside him, leaning onto the window sill.

“I assume your last chance worked out?” Obi-Wan asks.

“After you left-“

“You kicked me out-“

“You lied to me-“

“I couldn’t tell you I was a Jedi!”

Their eyes meet, and they both break into quiet laughter.

“You’re as annoying as ever,” She says.

“It’s part of my charm,” He replies.

She rolls her eyes, lightly knocking his shoulder with hers.

“Anyway, after that mess, I got another interview scheduled for the following week. Then, before I knew it, I was working for Senator Mon Mothma.”

The moonlight catches on her clothes, the gold detailing in her top lighting up. It gives her this glow, one that Obi-Wan can’t explain.

“I suppose I should’ve been paying more attention to Chandrilan politics,” Obi-Wan says.

“If you had you would’ve seen the implementation of a certain policy named no more forgotten children,” She replies.

Obi-Wan can’t help the way he breaks out into a smile. She notices, because her eyes light up in a way Obi-Wan would adore to see more of. She lets her eyes fall over his face, and slowly, carefully, she raises a hand up to his cheek. Obi-Wan lets his eyes close, leaning into her touch.

“Your hair’s longer,” She whispers.

“And yours is shorter,” He replies.

“It fit the whole ‘political advisor that could murder you if she wanted’ look.” Her lips quirk into a smile as she speaks, her head tilting as she jokes.

“Obi-Wan,” She whispers. His name feels like a calling when it comes from her lips. He closes his eyes again, letting himself lean in closer.

“Yes?”

“I’ve missed you,” She says.

“A little dramatic for only knowing someone for three days, don’t you think?”

Her head falls down to his chest, her arms going to wrap around his neck.

“You are so annoying.”

“And yet you came back.”

She looks up then, “I did.”

Obi-Wan brings a hand up to her cheek, and she smiles, bright, the kind that reaches her eyes. And then, without reproach, and without thinking about the Jedi, or the code, or his curiosity, he pulls her in, and kisses her.

The moonlight feels like home, when it wraps the two of them together in its glow. And in that moment, Obi-Wan felt happy. Truly, undeniably, happy.

#obi wan kenobi #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi x you #obi wan kenobi x y/n #sw

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beautifully-tuan · 4 years

Text

A.C.A.B.

here you go anon :) hope you like it

cop!Mark Tuan x badgirl!Reader smut Warnings: explicit sexual content, a bit political lol idk, crime, cursing

Masterlist

a/n : to the anon who requested this scenario, i hope that this is what you wanted. it turned out way darked than i had imagined, and a bit complicated too but yeah. i hope you'll enjoy and don't hesiate to check out my other works and to request if you'd want me to write something for you. ♡

You were a very private person, and you loved that about you. You took pride in the mysterious, edgy and unapproachable vibe you gave off, only a few people knowing the most sordid details, the dirtiest secrets of your life.

But there was Mark Tuan the cute police officer who wouldn't have to know so much about you if he wasn't so hardworking, always getting in your way, always there to catch you when you fall, in the most ironic way possible, almost as if he was chasing after you. Unlike most people, he knew the things you did during the nighttime, and had even arrested you for them. Of course, you were always set free when the morning came, your deeds never grave enough for you to endure more than a lonely night at the police station. But those nights weren't exactly lonely. Nine times out of ten, Mark Tuan the cute police officer was in charge of you. As a good cop, he was obligated to ask you some questions, try to get something out of your quiet, stubborn self. With you answering his questions with silly remarks or other questions, he'd never succeeded.

- "Why did you tag someone's house with spraypaint?"

- "You're really cute, you know that?"

- "How can you be wandering outside at such late hours?"

- "Tss, that ain't no question to ask a young lady."

- "Do you really enjoy getting in trouble?"

- "Do you really enjoy endorsing and perpetrating brutality as a job?"

You weren't exactly what you could call a "cop-friendly" person, and to you, Mark was in the enemy camp. But he really was cute, and teasing him amused you so much that you found yourself enjoying his company - if you could call it like that. Seeing his ears redden in exasperation, and his teeth digging into the flesh of his bottom lip when you got on his thin nerves was oddly satisfying. You would lie if you said you'd never imagined his teeth sinking into your own bottom lip as he'd do things to you on the interrogation table. And sometimes, on nights when your teasing went really far, you could swear the sexual tension between you was palpable in the air. But fantasies were all they were, and reality had always settled a fair enough distance between you, a distance that neither of you dared to decrease. As far as you were concerned, Mark Tuan just made your nights at the police station less lonely, and he made you laugh. You found it amazing, almost poetic, how you would always bump into each other, constantly getting in each other's way, as if it was meant to be. You had hoped to contemplate that thought again next time you'd spend a night in his company at the police station... You had no idea your paths would cross again sooner, at the most unexpected place that was his very house.

After a successful protest you'd participated in, you'd gone to have drinks with some friends to celebrate. They told you that, despite the protest being a success and the government's detrimental project abandoned, a lot of protesters were injured due to police brutality. Normally, you wouldn't have overreacted, that kind of thing being normal, almost conventional. But tonight, you were tipsy, adrenalized, and pissed, so you'd decided to pay the police department a little visit.

You weren't looking for Mark specifically. In fact, you weren't looking for anyone specifically. How could you know which house he lived in when you were literally in a police dorm-town? Your friends called it the "police district". You'd never felt bold enough to sneak in there, but again, you were tipsy and adrenalized. Nothing seemed impossible to you. It was around midnight, and it wasn't difficult to sneak into the first house in which the lights were out. You were quite experienced in this field. As you had expected, they didn't bother with security installations, too arrogant and full of themselves to think anyone would stand a chance against them. You didn't care. You didn't come here to fight anyway. You just wanted to annoy them a little, like you always did.

You hopped inside the house from the window, which, fortunately but unsurprisingly, wasn't locked. You let your bag fall to the ground of what seemed to be the kitchen, and snooped around, looking for anything to break or to mess with. You tried to make as little noise as possible, but your ears were buzzing from the adrenaline. You were probably louder than you thought, or Mark's hearing was very developed... You barely registered his footseps approaching. When he burst into the room, hair discheveled from sleep and dressed in nothing but sweatpants, you were thunderstruck. You jaw nearly dropped at the sight of him, the only thought floating in your mind being "meant to be".

He looked just as flabbergasted, and you laughed. Your laugh then turned into a smirk.

- "Well well... hello, sleeping beauty."

Mark cleared his throat, visibly trying to hide how much your presence affected him.

- "What- what the hell are you doing here?"

- "Umm... I was hanging around, and I thought why not pay you a little visit?" you said, still smirking.

You were lying, and he knew it. There was no way in hell you could've figured out where he lived. If he was honest, he was also starting to believe this situation was a prank pulled on him by fate. He would've turned you in if it wasn't for that thought, as crazy as it was.

- "This doesn't occur every other day, does it?" you teased, feeling bolder than ever after seeing his hesitation. "Why don't we take advantage of this great opportunity and have some fun, what do you think, officer?"

Free from any more hesitations, his response was immediate. Who would've thought that, one night, you'd find yourself trapped between Mark Tuan the cute police officer's body and the wall of his kitchen, as his lips crashed onto yours... You'd imagined what kissing him would feel like more than once, but it was nothing compared to reality. His lips were soft, but the kiss was ruthless, letting out months and months of sexual tension, a persistent need waiting to finally be satisfied.

Impatiently, Mark lifted your shirt and threw it across the room. You held onto his shoulders and locked your legs around his waist, while he left numerous marks down your neck. You moaned and tugged at his hair, eliciting a growl from the back of his throat and causing him to press his growing bulge harder against you. In the blink of an eye, your bra fell to the floor and he immediately started toying with your bare breasts. His lips and fingers worked on your nipples, and you struggled not to moan to loudly, not wanting the entire police district to hear how worked up you were getting.

Soon enough, Mark was carrying you towards his room and pushed you down on the bed, lips never leaving yours. When he finally separated your bodies to catch his breath - and help you catch yours - he ridded you of your jeans. His eyes darkened at the sight of the wet patch that your arousal had formed on the thin fabric of your panties.

- "Fuck" he breathed out. "Soaking wet just for me."

He spread your legs further and pushed your panties to the side before plunging a finger into you. You moaned loudly at the pleasurable intrusion, your head thrown back into the mattress and eyes falling shut. He slowly pumped his finger in and out of your core, enjoying the view of you squirming underneath him. The sounds you made were driving him wild and, wanting to hear more, he added another finger and sped up his movements.

- "Oh my God!"

You were a moaning and whimpering mess, his fingers hitting all the right spots inside you. They felt delicious, but you needed more of him. Trying your hardest to speak through the intense pleasure he was giving you, you uttered:

- "Mark, please" he stopped and looked up at you with lust-filled eyes. "I need you."

He removed his fingers and pulled down his pants and boxers, his angry cock slapping against his stomach. He hovered above you and aligned his member to your entrance. But, suddenly, as he was about to give you what you were craving, he reached for something on his nightstand. Through the dim lights filtering from outside, you barely caught sight of something metallic before you felt something cold wrap around your wrist. Your smirk reappeared as you realized what he was doing. He looked at you intensely, asking you for permission to continue with his eyes, and you nodded, more than thrilled and - somehow - even more turned on. He returned your smile and finished cuffing your hands to the headboard.

Before you could say anything, Mark knocked the breath out of your lungs when he slid inside you in one sharp thrust. You moaned in unison, relishing the intense satisfaction you were feeling. He gave you enough time to adjust to his impressive size, while trying to gather some self-control at how good your tight walls felt around him. He pulled out almost entirely before crashing his hips into yours again, making you cry out his name. He repeated his motions several times, slowly, making you agonize. You pulled on your restraints, wanting to touch him, hold on to him, tryig to lift your hips for more. Seeing how desperate you were, Mark picked up his pace, fucking into you hard and fast, making the bed squeak. Mark Tuan the cute police officer was long gone, replaced by the animalistic man sweating and grunting on top of you, occasionally biting your bottom lip just like you'd always wanted him to.

Your climax was fast-approaching, and Mark could sense it from the way you clenched around his cock. He gripped your hip tighter, possessively, while his other arm went down so he could lower himself and press his body flush against yours. You lifted your legs and locked them higher around his waist as a response, making him hit you from a new angle that had you seeing stars.

- "Right there" he whispered sinfully into your ear when you moaned particularly loud for him.

The sound of his deep, raspy voice was all you needed to fall over the edge, screaming and chanting his name like a mantra, like a "thank you". He continued his thrusts, riding out your high while chasing his own. He wouldn't last long with your walls clenching uncontrollably around him, viciously gripping his member. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, trying to muffle his high-piched moans, because he was dangerously close. After a few more sloppy thrusts, he pulled out, a string of curses leaving his lips as he came all over your abdomen.

The sight alone was enough to turn you on again, and you almost suggested a round two, but you were exhausted, and you were sure he was too. He released you from the handcuffs and handed you a wet towel to clean up. Afterwards, he collapsed next to you and, just a few seconds later, you were both fast asleep.

The next morning when Mark woke up, there was no one beside him. He looked around, wondering if your clothes were still there, but they were gone. He blinked, slightly overtaken. Did he dream what'd happened last night? No, he didn't. He could still smell you in his bedsheets. Then where did you go? Probably home, or somewhere else, who knows. You could be anywhere. Mark didn't really mind, because he could feel it in his guts that you'd meet again someday, probably during one of your reckless nights, and you'd end up with him at the police station again.

He didn't know it yet, but you left another, visible trace of your passage at his house. If he had been careful, if he had paid a little more attention, maybe he would've noticed. He should've known better. He should've remembered that you had come here to do something in the first place. He should've realized that you actually loved getting in trouble, because you caused even more trouble that way. When he would leave his house for work this morning and discover what you had done, he would scoff and shake his head in disbelief, but he would admit that he was impressed. All over his façade wall, crossing his window and front door, you had sprayed in big red letters:

"A.C.A.B - ALL COPS ARE BASTARDS"

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eeemarvel · 3 years

Note

Uncommon characteristics ask, Pyre, numbers 15, 30, 40 and Letter B please!😊

Let’s see if I can manage to not erase this response this time lol. Sorry for the wait and thank you for the ask!!

15. How do they speak? Is what they say usually thought of on the spot, or do they rehearse it in their mind first?

I’m gonna take the best stab at this I can because I’m not exactly the best at describing physical things (although when I think of Pyre speaking, I know exactly what he sounds like).

I’ll say that he’s boisterous, loud, and explicit. He sometimes takes special care to enunciate words with an added degree of sharpness. I can definitely say that Pyre doesn’t rehearse the things he says, even if he does often sound like an actor delivering lines on the stage of Broadway. But his words are not premeditated; he’s got plenty of venom to spare at the tip of his tongue and everything he says, he says with the intention to sting.

His desire to hurt people with his words coupled with his teasing and somewhat flirtatious personality is what makes the things he says so powerful (???). He’s definitely a pro at getting a rise out of people. He isn’t manipulative and doesn’t play mind games, but what he does is good enough. He makes people angry enough to give him a real fight which is what he wants. He just likes stoking fires.

30. Who do they most regret meeting?

It’s definitely not Victor, that’s for sure. Victor is a constant in his life that he has come to expect and has resolved himself to look for whenever it does not come immediately to him because.. well there’s a lot going on there with that, isn’t it? His relationship with Victor isn’t exactly the question so I’ll just leave it at this: Pyre is competitive and egotistical. Victor is the only one alive who he believes to be on his level and he wants to change that. Permanently.

Pyre doesn’t really hold anyone in high enough regard or esteem to have as strong a feeling as regret towards their presence in his life. That being said, there aren’t many in his life. If I had to pick someone, it would perhaps be the Ares Island warden. The person in charge of the prison housing the world’s most dangerous super villains is no Mr. Rogers. At least when Pyre talks back to Victor, he has his powers to fall back on... on AI, he’s just some guy.

40. How sensitive are they to their own flaws?

Ah, now this is the passage that caused me the greatest deal of pain when i GOOFED and deleted it.

Pyre is acutely aware of his ability level as well as areas that have room for improvement or evolution, so much so that he doesn’t need to be using fire in order to practice how to use it. For example, when he terrorized Victor with that huge burning bird, he said he got the inspiration when he heard the news about Victor’s fire flock. He heard that news while on AI but still managed to imagine a way to make that happen without ever having done it before.

But this doesn’t necessarily reflect his own abilities of introspection.

Pyre is stuck in a routine of seeking validation through trying again and again to best heroes at his game. And in a way, it works. Just because the good guys always manage to arrest him in the end doesn’t necessarily mean they’ve “won”. Some heroes come out of fights with him looking ... a bit crispy? And if not badly injured, they are most likely some combination of incensed, riled up, distracted, or dishonored in a way that is not befitting of a hero.

Heroes are noble and good. They take the high road and do not behave the way a villain does: out of anger, vengeance, or spite. If a hero behaves that way, their image cracks a bit, and those cracks are harder to fix than a crack in a bone. If Pyre can create some of those cracks, that’s somewhat of a win, is it not? A hero with a wounded ego is easier to overpower the next time they throw hands.

Oh wow, maybe he is manipulative?

But, I digress.

Pyre is stuck in a routine of seeking validation because that is what he can afford to think about when it comes to imagining his future. To summarize the words of a very long and dead passage that I unintentionally murdered with my own hands: he’s not going to have a revelation on his own. Right now, the game he’s playing works for him. It gives him a goal, every day, for as long as he can keep it up, and those goals satisfy him. He has no reason to stop playing the game. And to be clear, the game is to get as many strong people as possible to prove to him what he’s already thinking: that he’s the best in the world.

I’m not sure how much I want to elaborate on this right now because I’m still debating how much of his story I want to flesh out and with which characters... but for now, just know that he sees no reason in changing the way he does things, no reason to be introspective and take a step towards some change.

B) What inspired you to create them?

When I originally imagined this fic, it was just supposed to be fluff about the YOI gang as heroes. But even back then, Pyre was still pretty much the same character that he is now. I made him specifically for Victor because Victor needed an “archenemy”.

Victor has control over an entire spectrum of power. On one side of that spectrum, we have powers that are more often associated with “good”: water and ice. Those elements can be healing, defensive, or protective. The elements of heat and fire are more often associated with “evil” because it’s hard to do much protecting with something that hurts to the touch. To add insult to injury, he doesn’t really have a choice in the matter because he can’t use water during the day. If he wants to be a hero, he has to find a way to make his power work for him. Victor worked diligently to figure out exactly how to make fire gentle. How to turn a weapon into a shield.

For most people with fire abilities, this isn’t really a problem. For starters, they’re not heroes lol. They just don’t have the sheer amount of power that Victor does. He can make a bonfire with a snap of his fingers without breaking a sweat. Comparatively, someone like Noor can light their fists on fire for a few hours before they start feeling woozy. So normal people don’t feel the kind of pressure Victor is under because they’re playing with matches while he’s got... idk... a bazooka?

Pyre is on his level, but Pyre woke up and chose violence. And in this world, people kind of expect him to in an ironic (but definitely not ironic when they’re right) way... the social culture around powers is kind of like our culture surrounding astrology. People with fire powers are kinda treated the way we treat people who are scorpios or geminis. We just kind of expect someone with fire powers to have a “bad” personality. Idk why I’m rambling but I’m basically saying that Victor could be Pyre but far worse.

Pyre is egotistical. Victor himself admitted he was a bit vain. They’re both competitive, Pyre to a horrible fault, Victor to some degree of regret and embarrassment (heroes shouldn’t behave the way he does around Pyre). Pyre and Victor are both teasing and flirtatious. They’re both dramatic. They both crave attention, in different ways, but again, they’re occupying opposite sides of the same spectrum. And they’re both insanely good at using fire; they’re innovative, sharp, and quick.

Pyre is deeply flawed, horrible, and definitely sorta kinda yes definitely a murderer. Victor, while he has his minor flaws, is no where near the kind of evil Pyre is, so I’m not saying that Victor would just start terrorizing the town after having a bad day. I’m saying that if he wasn’t also compassionate and loving, he could’ve gone down a darker road. Pyre’s goal is to prove that he’s the best. Victor’s goal is to protect those who don’t have the power to do it themselves. That alone puts miles and miles and miles between them on that spectrum they occupy.

Victor needed someone to give him trouble. I also needed a way to show the difference between a hero using fire and a villain doing it.

So Pyre was originally made for the plot, I guess.

TLDR: Pyre is naturally a drama queen, he doesn’t regret meeting anyone except maybe the AI warden, and I made him so everyone can appreciate the fact that Victor is good and not a dirtbag.

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