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instarsandcrime · 25 days

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Tuned Out

Oh gosh it's been uh. Almost a month since I've written something??? Well, I hope you enjoy this one! I loved the idea of a sick L/uc/ifer spiraling, and being broken out of it by A/la/stor's radio show because I'm weak to the idea-- though it can be interpreted as both platonic and Ra//di//o//A//pple.

And here's a quick heads-up: Though this is still the usual fluffy fic, the spiral paragraph itself is a bit rough. So I'm going to put a trigger warning below and in the summary when I add this fic to the list. If intrusive thoughts and vague thoughts of self-harm are too much, please skip the italicized second paragraph. You can still read the fic without needing to include this part, so don't feel ANY pressure to do so if you aren't/will never be ready. Please, pleeeassseee take care of yourselves!

Otherwise, enjoy!

TW: Intrusive thoughts, vague thoughts of self-harm

---

Burning. His skin felt like it was burning him alive. That was the only sensation Lucifer could feel. His tired eyes stared up at the canopy of his bed, face glowing softly with fever. Its flush spread gold across the embedded pearls above, making them sparkle like stars. He sighed, crackling sparks floating from his lips as thoughts poked and prodded at his overheated mind.

Fuck. He really was pathetic, wasn’t he? Can’t move, can’t get up, can’t get a glass of water, eat dinner, call Charlie– call. Charlie? Oh, poor Charlie. She must be so disappointed in him. He chuckled weakly, What would she even say to him that she hasn’t already thought? He could imagine it. He really could. ‘Seriously, Lucifer?! I literally meant nothing to you for years and now suddenly you waltz into my life? And instead of actually spending time with me, you’re calling from a room that could’ve gone to someone who truly needed it, ordering me to wait on you hand and foot like I’m your butler? Like our entire relationship meant nothing? You threw me away, and now you’re going to do it again?! You know what? You deserve this! You deserve to rot in your bed! Get as starving and sick as you want! At least now the inside will match the outside! You’re terrible! I hate you! No. No, you know what? I wish you got your second shot at Heaven. I wish you had at least a week of laughter, fun, and fucking fireworks so they could tear off your wings andyoucanFallalloveragai–’

A burst of static pierced the air, shattering the constricting spiral just before it could break him again– and replaced it with a new form of dread.

“Why hello there all you wayward sinners! Welcome once again to tonight’s show with your host: The Radio Demon!”

“Uuugh!” Lucifer groaned dramatically, snatching one of his many pillows to press over his head.

Right. The stupid fucking radio. From under the shadows, the sickly demon couldn't help but glare daggers at the piece of junk resting on his nightstand. Alastor had requested those old, outdated mortal inventions for every hotel room– specifically from the 1920’s era because apparently he preferred style and substance. Whatever that meant.

Regardless. He insisted that it was needed for announcements, communication, and entertainment. In other words– somewhere, somehow, Alastor was currently studying him and him alone with invisible eyes. Surgically scanning him at the seams for the slightest rip. The slightest tear. As if his prey wasn't the most powerful being here. Dramatic bastard.

“And how are you doing this fine evening, Your Majesty?” The radio sung.

“Go away.” The lump of fluff grumbled.

"Of course not! It is my duty as your hotelier to take note of every little detail of my building, no matter how tiny and insignificant. And I am ever-so-glad I have! It is quite the rare sight to watch our King of Hell lose face to a simple case of the sniffles. Truly a headline for the ages!"

An angry red blush painted over the king’s golden cheeks, immediately pushing himself upright. Towering wings puffed, pillows and blankets tossed about the bed as he went. "Now see here! Sinners get sick. Overlords get sick. Hell, Charlie and Lilith can get sick! Me? I’m just rehhh…Snff! Ugh, resti'g…"

"Resting. Of course. I suppose I will believe you for convenience’s sake--"

"Hhheh…! Het'shiew!"

"--oh! Bless you."

"Het'shhhiew!"

"Bless y--"

"Hep'shhhh! 'Etshhh! 'Tshhh! 'Tshhh-'tshh-'tch! ...HhhhehhHH...! HEH'TSSHHHIEW!"

"My goodness, bless! You sound absolutely miserable. Shall I fetch you a glass of water? Or another blanket, perhaps?"

"Nhhh– no." Lucifer protested between hitching breaths, conjuring a handkerchief with the flick of the wrist, "N-no thahhh...hhhah! Hhhh...”

He finally lowered the cloth when the tickle finally fizzled out, heaving a sigh of relief. “Ndo thadk you. Snff!" He took a deep breath before letting loose a mucky blow into the fabric, "It's fine. I'm fine."

A pause. "Ah."

"What? What is it now?"

"Oh nothing, nothing! I’ll let you get back to your rest. But before I go, could I mention one more thing?”

“Absolutely not.”

“It’s just. Well, I had my first impressions, but I assumed that the King of Hell wouldn't be so cowardly."

"Cowardly?!" Lucifer repeated incredulously, spitting a plume of smoke.

"I see your hearing is as sharp as your wit."

"I'll show you cowardly you…y-you…hhh-!" The demon’s nose twitched desperately, and he cursed between hitching gasps as it tried again and again to just get. The damned itch. Out.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't quite catch that."

"You…you self-important…hehhh…p-pompous…!"

"How flattering of you to notice my worth! And would you believe it? You're absolutely right! I am the fundraiser for this humble project, after all. The guide for these poor, misguided souls. Ones such as yourself."

"Oh, please! We both know you’re...you're no behhh...better than…hhhH–!" Lucifer's handkerchief raised to his face.

"Trying to use your infamous silver tongue through a sneeze? My word! Charlie had told me you were stubborn. But this?"

"Eshhh! Et'SCHHH! HEH'ETSCHH'HHHIEW!" He quickly twisted his head away to let loose a breath of flame, barely singeing the well-abused cloth.

"Poor, poor Lucifer Morningstar.” Alastor teased, his voice as soft and careful as a snake in the grass. The smattering of footsteps echoed across the floorboards, circling the bed. “Always choosing your own heavenly guilt over the needs of everyone else."

"HEH'ESCHH'HHHIU! Hehh! Hhh…hghh…"

"Which is a shame, considering the ill resident who requires attention. Trapped in their own feverish mind. Alone while their partner is away. Unable to move or think or even ask for help properly. But I’m sure you wouldn’t know how it feels for them, considering how indestructible you are."

"...There is?" Lucifer finally croaked, cringing to himself at another gurgling nose blow.

"Of course! While you were hiding in your room with your wings tucked between your legs, I'm afraid you've missed someone very important. Someone close to you."

Lucifer froze. He didn't mean.

"Mmm. Let's see." As the radio host thought stubby knobs spun on their own, playing flickers of songs diluted by time. "Rosy cheeks. Blonde hair. Red eyes that sparkle so damn brightly one could go blind."

Oh no.

"Puffy bow tie. Black fingernails."

Did. Did he get his little girl sick? Please, please don't let that be the case.

"The most spell-binding singing voice."

He thought back to breakfast. How Charlie had eaten less than normal. How she sniffled once or twice at the table. Wait, did her face look pale? Maybe the light didn’t catch it?

A knot formed in the pit of his stomach.

"Wh-where is she-- they, um! That. Resident right now?"

"Oh, performing the usual suffering patient routine. Lying in bed. Being miserable. Quite adament about sleeping the bug off. Reminds me of the ol’ picture books that star wealthy socialites and their sickly Victorian children. The ones who die due to their parents' neglect and mistreatment."

"I could help her." The fallen angel mumbled anxiously as he pushed himself upright. "I could help her right– …now..."

The second he dared to stand he nearly fainted, stumbling dizzily to grab the bedpost for support. From beneath a small string of black tentacles sprouted from the ground, nudging him back into place and under the covers as The Radio Demon tutted disapprovingly.

"I wouldn’t do that if I were you. If you can't partake in the complex act of resting, then what good are you to our dear, sweet Charlie?"

"Shut. Up." Lucifer hissed, "I am a grown adult--"

"--debatable--"

"--and I choose what to do with my free time! And it's my jo-- koff koff! j-job to help my daughter when she needs it!" A shaky finger waved at all six radios. Or were there seven?

"To be quite honest Sire, I would prefer to do my tasks without your meddling. Actually, I would prefer not to perceive your existence at all, thank you very much. Unless..."

"Unless?"

"Unless you'd rather call her yourself. But I know you won't." A mocking tone laced with static, “You c̴̨̮͊o̶̗̤̿ẇ̷̙á̴̼̖ȑ̶͉̕d̶̙͚͗̕.”

“I– wh–” Lucifer laughed in sheer disbelief, snatching up his phone. “Y-you’re– you’re joking, right? I’m not some– some godforsaken hermit!"

"Then by all means, prove it."

"I am!"

“I’m waiting."

"Oh, I’ll do it! I’ll do such a good call. It’ll be the– snff! goodest caller you’ve ever seen.” The King of Hell pouted like a child as he moved his claws.

“Ugh. Lord knows how he’ll act if he gets worse.” The radio mumbled quietly.

“Whassat?”

“My apologies, Your Majesty! I forgot that your company as of late are less of the civilized and more the rubber duck variety.”

"Of all the– if you weren't stuck to Charlie like a parasite I would take the sharpest end of my tail and shove it up your--"

Click!

"Dad?" A voice croaked.

"Charlie!" Lucifer's venom turned saccharine sweet, flipping on a dime. "Hey! Hi! H-how are ya, sweetie?"

"Mmrgh...what time is it?"

"It's. Um. Evening…time? Look, that doesn't matter right now. Are you feeling alright, kiddo?"

"Am I feeling alright?" His patient echoed sleepily.

"Yeah! I uh. IIIII just wanted to check in. See if you were okay."

"Oh. Um, I'm okay." A bit of rustling and a pause. "Are you okay?"

"Snff! Me?"

"Yes, you! You looked so tired at breakfast this morning, a-and you didn’t eat anything which never happens! And you were kinda glowing? It kinda seemed bad but I didn’t want to ask because maybe it was a personal thing and– wait, your voice is…are you crying?!" Rustling turned into the shuffle of pacing slippers.

"What? No! Nonononono! I just--" Lucifer froze, feeling another itch start to build, handkerchief nowhere to be found under the sea of fabric. "Jhhh-just excuse mbe for– snff! For a seggond. Keebp t-talki’g…!"

He quickly pressed his hand against the speaker, stifling into his shoulder until the scratchy wool felt damp. "Hh'ntt! Hh’ngk! Hhh’TCH! ‘TCH! Hhhhh...HT'CHNXT'hiew! Guhh..."

"Sure. A-anyway, you called me pretty early in the morning and after all that and this. Soooo…is there anything I can do to help?"

Desperate claws scrambled to craft a new handkerchief and wipe his streaming face. "N-no! No, no-- snff! absolutely not! Worry about yourself Char-Char, I'm fi--....f-fihh...!"

Hang up, pinch your nose shut, do anything but--

"HET'SHHH'HIEW!" Lucifer doubled over.

–sneeze.

"Oh geez, that sounded terrible!” Charlie gasped, “Is that why you've been in your room all day? Are you sick?"

A sudden, very obvious realization hit him. Silently the fallen king sunk into his mattress, wishing he could be swallowed by his comforter. His cheeks burned. The familiar description. The taunting.

“Can I. Call you back, Stardust?”

“What? Whoa, whoa, wait, we’re not finished here–” With a final monotone beep, the call ended.

"You.” Lucifer clenched his fangs.

“Yes?” Alastor hummed non-chalantly. “YOU.”

“Gracious! No need to shout. Even The Devil Himself should know that a sickly patient musn’t raise his voice, lest it get worse than it already is!”

“Watch your back, bellhop. Next time I see you, no ring of Hell will compare to what I-- koff! I’ll–" The threat died with a wheeze, breaking into another ill-timed fit.

"And that's all for tonight, folks!" The radio suddenly hopped back to life, "Tomorrow's show may be a little dicey schedule wise, as our guest star is feeling quite unwell. Will he finally exit his literal and proverbial cave of sorrows for once in his miserable life? Or, much like his saintly past, will pride once again be his downfall--"

"Dad! Are you– eep!"

Charlie's entrance was suddenly interrupted when a black fist rained down on the damned noise box, breaking in a fit of bouncing springs and wooden splinters. The room stilled until a meek, nervous chuckle finally broke the spell.

"Charlie, dear?"

"Y…yeah?"

"Um. Could. Could I trouble you for a glass of water?"

#snz #snz fic #ha//zb//in//ho//tel//#lu/ci/fer #a/la/stor #char/lie

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1ovede1uxe · 4 months

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04. death xiii, part one┊ ┊⋆ beyond the stars

The blaring alarm on your phone rudely interrupted the remnants of your peaceful slumber, signaling the unrelenting reality that it was already 7:30 am. Groggy from the previous night's exploits, the temptation to linger in bed for just five more minutes was almost irresistible. Nevertheless, with a reluctant sigh, you sat upright, unlocking your phone for a quick scroll, only to be jolted by the realization that it was already 7:55.

Shit.

Your mind was awake, but your limbs seemed to contrast your mind, as each step to the bathroom feeling like an arduous journey. There was no time to wait for hot water in a hot shower; the cool water hit your skin, inducing goosebumps as you hurriedly scrubbed a cleanser across your face. Emerging from the shower, you felt only halfway refreshed, your tired eyes struggling to open fully. Unexpectedly, a tenor scream pierced the air.

Kakyoin.

Propelling yourself through the connecting door into Kakyoin's room without a second thought, you entered to see that with a scorned look nestled in his bed, lay Kakyoin. He spoke something to himself, but the following holler derailed your train of thought.

Kakyoin's sudden thrashing dispelled any doubts. "Kakyoin?" you called, hoping to wake him. The yell only continued, and you moved closer, leaning over his broad frame, shaking him urgently. "Wake up!" His eyes shot open, breath labored. "(Y-Y/N)?" Upon realizing it was you, it almost felt like his breathing calmed. “Alright you two, let’s wrap things up here. Mr. Joestar and Jotaro are already at the airstrip.” Polnareff, now towering in the doorway, stated.

As you gathered your belongings, Kakyoin began to get ready. "I had a dream... a really terrible one," he began to explain, wiping the sweat that dripped down his forehead. "Hah! What was it about? Tell me everything!" Polnareff urged. However, that was the last you heard after stepping out the door.

Walking out of the hotel, a different holler reached your ears compared to the one before. The scene was gruesome – a dog's head sliced open, and a boy crying over it. You stood there, almost entranced yet equally disgusted. Your instinct to comfort the boy kicked in; no one deserves to suffer heartbreak and loss in such a way. Just as you took a step toward him, Kakyoin tapped your shoulder.

"(Y/N), we have to keep moving," he said, glancing at what had captured your attention. "A dog... I remember seeing a dog's body recently."

"Though it's disgusting, it has nothing to do with us. Let's go," Polnareff announced.

Approaching Jotaro and Joseph, you noticed a commotion and heard something about not being able to get the plane.

"Truth is, this baby is sick with a 39-degree fever. There are no doctors in this village; he'll have to be taken to one that does" the salesman explained. Kakyoin tensed visibly at the mention of a baby, and you shared a side-eye with Polnareff.

After some awkward and honestly poor decision-making, somehow, the five of you ended up with a baby aboard the plane as it ascended into the sky. It sat in your lap in the basket peacefully. You weren't quite sure what to do but just stare and make sure the child didn't wake.

After a bit of cruising through the sky, Polnareff began to dose off, his head nodded against the window. You suddenly felt pressure on your shoulder, and you glanced away from this so called precious child for only a moment, only to understand that Kakyoin had been sleeping peacefully and drifted over to you. Face dusted pink, you look up and see Jotaro turning himself back around. He'd definitely taken note of this.

There was a sudden putrid smell in the air, and you definitely could tell the source. "(Y/N)! You're a woman, can you change the baby?" Your once tickled pink face quickly turned to green, mostly out of disgust for the idea. "Wait...What did you just say to me?"

"Ugh, nevermind, POLNAREFF!" The old man hollered; Polnareff stirred. "Change the baby before you go back to sleep." Kakyoin lifted his head from your shoulder to lean to the wall of the plane. He began to mumble and sweat. Polnareff finally was awake. "Ugh... I think I had a bad dream."

"DIAPER!!!"

Polnareff tried every which way to change that damn baby. Even if it was in your lap you would just do your best to look out the window and breathe through your mouth. Kakyoin began to mumble and stir again, catching the attention of Jotaro. "Hey Kakyoin.." He called out softly. Without warning, Kakyoin began to thrash and yell in his sleep. "Kakyoin! what's wrong?!" It was a commotion. You held onto that basket for dear life. “Oh Shit! This is Bad! He bumped the controls!”

“Are we gonna crash?!”

“Someone hold down Kakyoin!”

Polnareff held down Kakyoin with all his strength, blood suddenly dripping from the restrained man’s wrist. The plane was stabilized, Mr. Joestar had saved the day once again. However, this is Joseph Joestar in a plane. This did not last long.

bonus dio tweets :D

previous chapter // next chapter // masterlist

Thank you so much to everyone for the well wishes for me and my mom, it’s very much appreciated! Things seem to be going a lot better with her. I hope you’re all enjoying the series! I’ll probably edit this later tbh, I just wanted to get out a chapter for y’all. Constructive criticism is always appreciated and the taglist is still open to those interested!

taglist: @kerto-p :)

#beyond the stars #jjba #jojo no kimyō na bōken #jojos bizarre adventure #kakyoin noriaki x reader #joseph joestar #jotaro kujo #noriaki kakyoin #jjba headcanons #jojo joseph #jjba smau #smau #social media au #modern au #kakyoin x reader

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jungk0oksthighs · 2 years

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Jungkook drabble – “And even if you don’t feel the same, that’s okay – I’ll always be here for you.”

Unrequited love au, bestfriend!jungkook | Word Count – 1k

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption

Eyes animatedly round and bulging from your skull, you stare at your best friend Jungkook in complete astonishment. He’s very drunk, you’re very drunk. It was decided last minute that the two of you would go on an impromptu camping trip tonight, and so you’re sitting by the fire beneath the moonlight and stars with the man you’ve known your entire life. Except there’s one thing you didn’t know about him, one thing he’s been drunkenly rambling about for almost twenty minutes now.

Jungkook is in love with you.

“And even if you don’t feel the same, that’s okay – I’ll always be here for you…” He sighs dramatically into the neck of his beer bottle, nervously chewing his pierced lip.

“Kookie you’re drunk, stop talking shit.” You snort, there’s absolutely no way he’s in love with you. No fucking way. Not in a million years. You’re blushing, fighting a smile, because in all honesty you’re flattered – Jungkook is quite the catch. Hundreds, no scratch that thousands of girls constantly try their luck sliding into the tattooist’s DM’s on Instagram – always disheartened when he doesn’t respond. Any girl would be lucky to have him, but he’s your best friend… You just don’t see him like that.

“I’m one hundred percent serious. I’ve had it bad for you since you kissed me in third grade.” He’s laughing now, shaking his head in disbelief that it’s taken him more than twenty years to admit this to you.

Ah yes, your first kiss. Jungkook’s first kiss. It was the result of him winning his taekwondo tournament after school, you were so happy and proud of him that you went to kiss his cheek when he was announced as the winner – except he had turned into your embrace at that very moment. Escalating into a very awkward, innocent clashing of lips and teeth between two usually shy children.

“Okay first of all I didn’t mean to kiss you,” You hold up your finger, waggling it in your defence, “And it was barely even a kiss it was more us… Clashing—”

He grabs your stray finger, shaking it violently with a wide grin, “It was a kiss.”

“No it wasn’t!” Your head lolls back from laughter, “That was not a kiss.”

“It definitely was, just admit it you had a crush on me and kissed me.”

You roll your eyes, “That’s not true at all…”

“Fuck me Y/N, nothing like shooting a man when he’s already down.” A pained, forced giggle rattles inside the chest his hand clutches in feigned offence.

“Sorry.” You’re biting your lip to stifle laughter, he’s so wasted that his eyes are reddened by alcohol and so hooded that they threaten to close at any moment.

“So you really feel nothing for me, huh?” He sighs, letting go of your hand and sinking back in the camping chair, shielding his embarrassment with the bend of his elbow.

“I-, well…” You feel guilty, terribly so, that his feelings are unrequited. Of course you love him, you’d die for him without a second thought… You just don’t love him like that, “Can you just let me process what you’re saying here? You’re my best friend… I wasn’t expecting this.”

“Really?” You watch his brow quirk knowingly, “You’re telling me you had no idea?”

“Genuinely didn’t have a clue, I still don’t believe you if I’m being honest… You’re just drunk.” You hum, standing to get another bottle of beer from the cooler nearby.

It’s when you walk past your best friend that he firmly grips the back of your knees, bending them until you collapse onto his thighs. You’re straddling him, peering down at his shit-eating smirk with a warning stare. His palms find purchase on your hips, holding you in place.

“Jungkook what are you doing?” You snort, playfully tugging his long brunette locks.

And that’s when it happens, yours and Jungkook’s first actual kiss. It’s like the world stands still when he angles his face up to yours, noses brushing against each other with nothing more than shaky alcohol-stained breaths between you. He presses his lips to yours so delicately that you almost don’t feel it at first, it’s featherlight, tender… Everything you wouldn’t expect from a big beefy tattoo artist covered with piercings and dark artwork of his life.

You sigh against his mouth, head spinning, heart pounding. When he pulls back you almost feel disappointed, but the love swimming in his brown doe-eyes stops you from feeling disheartened. That’s the moment you realise he’s telling the truth.

“Do you believe me now?” He tucks a wayward strand of hair behind your ear, resting his thumb on your cheek when he cups your face.

You roll your eyes, standing from his lap in one swift albeit not so elegant movement, “No, you’re definitely just drunk.” You lie, mentally unable to deal with this right now as beer and something akin to butterflies warm your body.

“Guess I’ll have to remind you in morning when I’m sober then.” He winks, and you throw his fresh beer at him with a scoff.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

The next morning Jungkook pulls you close in the sleeping bag, nestling his forehead in the crook of your neck, “Good morning…” His voice is croaky and thick with sleep, a contrast to the airy pitter patter of raindrops hitting the tent.

“Morning.” You’re stretching in place, welcoming the way his warm hands squeeze your middle.

He sighs knowingly, lacing his inked fingers with yours, “I love you Y/N.”

“I know.” You smile.

AN: thank u for ur request i hope this is okay! :)

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tidekissed · 4 months

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the eye of the beholder

pairing: argenti and alea

insert: alea (star rail)

word count: 704

trying some new names out becuase I have seven million star rail inserts.

in the never-ending search for idrila, alea might have an idea despite her lack of vim and vigor for the hunt. she didn’t mean to share it out loud, though…

“You know, I just realized I’ll be quite useful finding Idrila if the stories are true,” she says abruptly one night as they sit and look up at the stars after dinner on the surface of a snowy planet. “I know what they’ll look like.”

“You do?!” Argenti sputters, whirling on her in an instant, a flash of hurt in his eyes. “Whyever have you kept this information from me, knowing my ambition?”

Alea shakes her head, eyes widening apologetically. “No, no, nothing definitive like that—it was just a thought I didn’t mean to say aloud. Sorry.”

“I am now curious,” he hums, leaning his head towards her with that blasted smile that makes her chest twist. “Even if it was merely a fleeting thought, it could be of assistance. I humbly inquire as to what your sharp mind came up with.”

“I just… the stories say that Idrila will appear as the person someone finds the most beautiful, right?”

“Yes, that is indeed the story.” He seems to glow in the starlight, resting a cheek on his palm and letting his hair cascade over the side of his face as he stares up at her. His grin is lopsided, which she has come to learn means he is about to ask a question she does not want to answer. “You have a special someone, do you? I’ve never heard of this—pray tell who it is? They must miss you terribly, what with you traveling with me for so long.”

“No, no… I don’t. That shouldn’t come as a shock.”

“You just know your type very well, then?”

“No… I don’t think I have one. Physically, anyway.”

“You’re confusing me, my dear Alea. How then will you know what Idrila looks like?”

“Well…” She shifts nervously as she trails off, drawing her arms across her chest in a defensive position. “I don’t have a lover—or anyone, really—but that doesn’t mean I’m not in love. If I see two of that person and there are no hallucinogenic bugs nearby, I’ll know it’s Idrila.”

Argenti starts to nod in understanding, but his brows quickly furrow in confusion, piercing green eyes scouring her face for answers. “Two of them? I don’t believe Idrila is known for duplicating themself. Why do you believe they will appear as two of the person you love?”

Alea swallows, and hard. “No, no. there won’t be two of them. One will be real, as in the real person. The other will be a doppelgänger.”

“I am somehow more confused than I started. How are you certain the person you love will even be present? I’m with you almost every waking moment and even every sleeping moment, and I’ve never seen anyone we’ve encountered linger long enough for you to…”

As the breath is punched from his lungs with the shock and clarity of diving into frigid water, she manages a whisper.

“Because it’s you they’ll look like. To me, Idrila will appear with your face.”

It looks like it pains her to admit, arms drawn painfully tight over her chest, and it occurs to Argenti that she had told him long ago—when they first met, actually—that she had never been called beautiful before he did. Perhaps, he thinks with a somber sigh, such things as love are painful for her because she grew up in a world where those unfairly deemed not beautiful were unfairly deemed not worthy of experiencing it.

“It’ll just be easy to tell, that’s all,” she chokes, voice barely a whisper. “It was stupid of me to accidentally say it out loud. I was tired and not thinking. I’m sorry. I’ll find my own way off this planet in the morning.”

She shows genuine emotion in front of him for the first time, and despite the circumstances it’s beautiful.

His thumbs catch the crystalline tears that seep from hairline fractures in her iron wall, drinking in her rosy cheeks and glistening eyes as he struggles for the words he needs. Beauty can be expressed in combat, but love requires the spoken word. “Stay,” is what he manages to whisper, his forehead coming to rest against hers. “Please, my dear Alea, stay.”

He doesn’t have to beg her twice.

#deep sea scrolls #CRIIIINGE #anyway. i have an appointment to shove my head under a rock if you'll excuse me #🥀

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mimisempai · 9 months

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Spread your wings, Angel

Summary

Guilt.

The weapon that allows heaven to control its angels.

While Aziraphale believes himself guilty of Crowley's downfall, Crowley will help him break the last chains that bind him to heaven.

Notes

This author doesn't know what she's doing, but she does it anyway.

On Ao3

Rating G - 1624 words

“You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago… I have loved none but you.”

THE END

As the sun rose, Aziraphale closed the book he'd just finished and placed it on the small table next to the sofa, being careful not to move too much so as not to wake Crowley.

"Angel, can I stay with you tonight?"

He hadn't even considered refusing for a second.

Not after what they had just shared.

After all these thousands of years, they had finally realized that they were each other's happiness.

And most importantly, they had told each other so.

Aziraphale looked down at the red head on his lap.

He couldn't remember when Crowley had ended up on the sofa that evening, resting his head on Aziraphale's lap and falling asleep like that.

Things had definitely changed, and Aziraphale couldn't deny that he was a little afraid. Just a little.

Nothing new

He had been afraid of hurting people.

He had been of upsetting them.

He had been of not being enough.

But now he had only one fear: to hurt the being that was sleeping next to him.

Once again.

Crowley, who thought he wasn't good enough, when it was Aziraphale who felt like an endless failure.

As an angel.

As a friend.

He'd done so much damage thinking he was doing good.

Since the beginning of time.

He raised his hand to touch the red hair, but stopped a few inches short.

He clenched his fist.

Did he have the right to touch the one who had been the greatest victim of his blindness?

Did he have the right to lay a hand on the angel whose fall he had caused?

As the red-haired angel raved with infectious joy about what he had just created and explained to Aziraphale with enthusiasm, Aziraphale explained God's plans to him.

"The impression I get is that the stars and your um..."

The red-haired angel helped him continue, "Err, call it a nebula."

Aziraphale continued, "Right. Well, they exist just so that the people can look up into the night sky and marvel at the illimitable vastness of The Almighty's creation."

Looking at the other angel with a satisfied smile, he protested, "But that's idiocy!" and pointing to the infinite sky around them, he continued, "It's the universe, it's not just some fancy wallpaper! Millions of galaxies, trillions of stars, oodles of... everything! It's not just put here to twinkle!"

He turned to Aziraphale and added in the same disappointed tone,“Most of it won’t even be visible from Earth. Why don’t you put Earth in the middle of the universe so the view’s better?”

Aziraphale replied in a wise manner,“It’s not our job to advise The Almighty on the details of creation.”

The red-haired angel protested again,“Well, then whose job is it? I mean, someone has to say, Look, boss, this is a really, really terrible idea."

Aziraphale, though amused, replied seriously, “Well, I suspect that would be considered inappropriate.”

The other angel, still looking disappointed, replied stubbornly, “Well, I don’t suppose anyone could object to me putting a note into the suggestion box.”

Aziraphale answered him in the most serious, learned tone, “I don’t believe The Almighty has actually created a suggestion box. And furthermore, I don’t think it’s our place to start suggesting that there should be a suggestion box.”

The red-haired angel insisted, however, “Well, if I was the one running it all, I’d like it if someone asked questions. Fresh point of view.”

Aziraphale, increasingly worried about the direction the conversation was taking, looked at him as he continued, "You can't just create a universe, run it for a few thousand years, and then stop.

Aziraphale tried to distract him by complimenting his creation with forced enthusiasm, "I like the pinky-blue bit in the corner of the, the nebula. Yes, it's very um, ah!"

Then a little more urgently, he turned to the red-haired angel again and added, wanting to convince him at all costs, "Um, but look, word to the wise, I'd hate to see you getting into any trouble."

And he meant it.

The other angel looked very nice, was talented, had created such beauty, and Aziraphale didn't want anything bad to happen to him.

The red-haired angel looked at the nebula with a gentle smile, then turned to Aziraphale and said in a friendly tone, "Mm, thanks for your help. And thanks for your advice," before adding confidently, "I wouldn't worry, though. How much trouble can I get into just for asking a few questions?"

He turned back to the nebula and Aziraphale did the same. Together they watched the stars fall as the red-haired angel's wing unfolded over Aziraphale to protect him.

Metatron's words to Crowley came back to mind.

“Always did want to go his own way. Always asking damn fool questions, too.”

How much trouble can you get into just for asking a few questions?

Only one.

You fall.

Aziraphale gasped.

He had caused Crowley's downfall.

Aziraphale gasped again.

He had so much to repent for.

But this was perhaps his greatest sin.

"Angel? Are you all right?"

Lost in thought, he hadn't noticed that the demon had awakened and was now looking up at him from his lap, a worried look on his face.

Aziraphale, unable to meet the demon's gentle gaze, covered his face with his hands.

He felt the demon straighten up and his hands grab the angel's wrists, calling softly, "Angel, speak to me."

Crowley pulled the Angel's hands away from his face and repeated, ever so softly, "Aziraphale, tell me what's wrong, please."

Aziraphale tried to pull away, but Crowley held him tightly, his tone even more concerned as he insisted, "Angel! Talk to me!"

Aziraphale cried out, his voice breaking, "How? How can you stand to be here with me? How can you speak to me so kindly? How can you even look at me, knowing what I've done? It's my fault that you... it's... when..."

The Angel had to stop as the sobs threatened to suffocate him.

Crowley grabbed his shoulders, genuinely concerned, and asked, "I told you I forgave you last night, so explain, I don't understand."

Aziraphale swallowed several times before he could speak, "If... If I hadn't told you about God's plans that day, you... you wouldn't have questioned her and you wouldn't have fallen. It's all my fault. So how could you stand by my side all this time when it's because of me that..."

He stopped because Crowley had just put his finger over his mouth.

The demon said firmly, "Angel! Stop this at once! If I hadn't asked questions that day, I would have asked them later. You are not responsible for my downfall. No more than I am. The only ones who are responsible are those who tore me down because I dared to question God's plans. Not you. Not me. Just them. You haven't done anything wrong. Not for one tiny second of my entire existence did I blame you. I never did. I know that I said I was a demon. That it means I lie. But not to you. Not to you anymore. Tell me you believe me."

Aziraphale scanned Crowley's face for a few seconds, looking for the slightest trace of resentment, but seeing none on the demon's face, he nodded slowly.

The demon said softly, opening his arms, "Come here, angel.

Aziraphale snuggled up against him immediately as the demon wrapped his arms around him.

With his lips in the pale locks, Crowley said softly, "Good old-fashioned guilt. Your side's secret weapon. That's how they got you, up there. Don't eat that, don't drink that, don't ask questions, don't step out of line. You've heard it for so long, but it's all over. They don't have anything more to say to you. We're going to free you from this guilt, my angel. I want to see you open your wings, your real wings, and embrace life. I want to see you thrive. Even if it's just to see you borrow my Bentley or throw a ball for the neighborhood shopkeepers. I don't want to see you second-guessing yourself. Stop smiling because you think you shouldn't. I want to see you do what you think is right because you want to, without wondering if it's what Heaven intended. I want to see you reach out and take what you want."

Aziraphale nodded his head against Crowley's chest and whispered, "I want that, too."

Crowley grabbed the Angel's shoulders to pull him back a bit and said softly, "I know you want it. I saw it in your eyes the first time on the wall. When you felt guilty about giving away the flaming sword. I saw it when the flood took away the children. When you felt guilty although you had no responsibility. Whenever your own conscience overrode your angelic nature and made you thwart God's plans, I saw it."

The demon cupped Aziraphale's face in his hands and whispered against his lips, "You deserve to just live, angel. We both do, don't we?"

Aziraphale nodded and murmured, "Crowley."

"Yeah?"

Aziraphale said in a much clearer voice, "Kiss me."

The demon smiled softly and murmured, "Yes, angel, just like that. You just have to want and reach for it."

Then he closed the distance between them and pressed his lips to the angel's, happy to see him finally breaking his chains.

For good.

Quote - Persuasion - Jane Austen

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story 🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable Growing Love series : here (After season 2)

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here (Before season 2)

#good omens #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #ineffable boyfriends #aziraphale #crowley #good omens fanfiction #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #GoodOmensSeason2Spoilers #GOS2Spoilers #GoodOmens2Spoilers #😈😇

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goldeneyedgirl · 4 months

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TwiFicmas23 Day 7: Hybrid Jasper

Good evening! Tonight, we have something experimental. I was trying to put together a one-shot that focused on Jasper as a hybrid because I'm equal-opportunity with my nonsense.

It's still in parts, and I'm not sure that I've captured the vibes that I'm aiming for, but we persevere. I kind of love the idea of Jasper being the vulnerable one and Alice being the protective one and wanted to riff on that concept. Some of the 'rules' and world-building are a little iffy at the moment, but first drafts always need a little work.

Thank you to everyone who has read, liked, tagged, and messaged me. Those tags and messages absolutely make my day and I love every single one of them.

I'm off to sleep off this cold, in the hopes that I can recover fast enough to finish off a couple of planned entires <3

on the edge of dawn.

His past is knotted up in secrets and lies.

And blood, he can’t forget that.

(It starts and ends in rivers of blood, in so many lives worth of blood, that it would be disingenuous not to acknowledge it.)

When he meets the eyes of the recruitment officer and tells him that he’s of-age, he’s not lying. He’s been a grown-ass man for a decade now; just because he’s sixteen in human terms is meaningless. He is more than capable of fighting a war.

(He fights to protect the people that raised him, the cousins who were really his little sisters. He goes to war to make sure that he can send money home, enough to keep them fed and warm and safe. He doesn’t need much, and it’s nothing compared to what they gave him.)

When he runs afoul of Maria, he expects it to be his death. One that is surprisingly appropriate considering his own origins. Instead, it is a fever that cooks him from the inside out, one that he stays lucid throughout, begging for answers, to explain what is happening for water, to know what has become of his poor horse. He sees a lot of people, strange people, that feel like they are all wrong but he doesn’t know why.

He thinks of his little sisters, and hopes that they’ll be okay. He saved a lot of his pay, sent it home, so maybe they will. Maybe they won’t go hungry or get sick.

Maria is exceptionally intrigued by him. This man who doesn’t die, who rambles at her, begs her. And even when the fever ebbs, his eyes are still a piercing hazel. He still bleeds and sleeps and breathes. But he feeds on blood, he can move at least as fast as the slowest newborn, and has a gift that he almost effortlessly weaponising.

He is a marvel, a miracle, a prize.

So she keeps him, and Jasper is mostly reminded of stories about hell from the Bible.

(He can never go home again.)

—

Her visions have shown him since she awoke, but he’s always been very strange in them - like he’s made of smoke and memory, faded and halfway gone. She doesn’t understand it, and it scares her - that very first vision, where he tucks a flower behind her ear and says her name - is her north star, and her touchstone. She doesn’t know who she is without him, and the idea that he could disappear terrifies her to the bone. No one else does that in her visions, and she can’t work it out.

Then she realises his eyes are hazel. Somehow she missed that little detail as she watched him fight and feed and rule Mexico in Maria’s name. They are such a beautiful shade, impossible for a vampire.

And then she sees him sleeping, and it terrifies her that he is so vulnerable and unguarded in such a terrible place. She feels sick at it.

He’s still an enigma, she still has questions, but it’s a clue. It’s something. It helps her shape and frame their future in her mind, knowing that he is not entirely the same as her.

It makes her feel useful, and that’s a nice feeling.

—

He remembers his mother a little too well. She had sharp hazel eyes and hair so light it was almost white. She’s already dead by then, washed out and still, and it’s a single frame in his memory. Something he should never be able to remember. But he does.

(Jasper remembers her best when faced with the bodies. The ones who were taken as a meal, and the ones that don’t survive the change. Bloodless and broken in every way that counts. Her face is always clearest in his mind as he gathers up those dead people, and maybe he remembers his upbringing and says a quick prayer for them. But it doesn’t take long for those prayers to be meaningless mutterings under his breath, part of the routine without any of the meaning.)

Sometimes he wonders what would have become of him in another life, with his mother perfectly dead. His grandmother had no love for him, not in those earliest days; a pious woman, she would have cast him out young if it hadn’t been for his mother’s brother.

For a long time, he’s raised by his Uncle Jed. Jed looks at him and seems to see past all the things that shouldn’t be and the things that make him strange, right down to the lost boy he is.

Jed gives him the family name - Whitlock - and puts him to work on the ranch. It’s a good life, and he likes working with animals, likes that the things that make him different make him useful on the ranch. He likes that he never has to see the old bitch of a grandmother that never let Jasper forget that he was the reason his momma was dead.

(His momma named him. She picked the name out herself and started embroidering it on a blanket because she became too ill. That’s something he tucks in the back of his mind, that possibility that maybe she didn’t hate him, maybe she even loved him.)

Then Jed meets Gracie Wainwright and Jasper is terrified that he’ll have to leave; that being reclusive and unseen is the only way he can stay there, outside San Antonio. Jed doesn’t even let him go to church except at Christmas; for Jasper to grown up, he must be invisible and it’s the one family law they all obey.

Except… Aunt Grace is his greatest champion, the mother he never had before. She is quick to teach him, bringing him books and teaching him his sums, how to sew on a button and darn a sock, and cook a hot meal - “Everyone needs to know these things Jasper, no matter where you go in life.”

And then there are the girls, he beloved cousin-sisters who climb over him and cling to him and are nothing but laughter and soft, kind things. Jed and Grace produce five of them, one after the other, all golden-eyed and blue-eyed and his favourite people in the world. Girls he would die for.

So he does. He goes and signs up for the army because he’s been grown for years, because he’s faster and stronger and doesn’t need food or water. Disease never seems to touch him, and there’s little-to-no chance that they won’t have to leave the ranch. They’ll need to eat and travel, and his stipend will help with that. It’s the least he can do.

(In her letters, Aunt Grace worries about him incessantly, tells him that Little Emma wanders around calling for him, not understanding that he’s not coming home any time soon; that his stipend has been useful in keeping them fed and well. Jed writes him and scolds him for running off and for sending them his money, but always ends his letters speaking of his pride in Jasper, and wishes to come home safely. Jasper’s always felt guilty he never made it back.)

Maria is oddly fascinated by the concept of his family, by how dearly he holds them, and how he still remembers them, still adores them. Vampire memories are supposed to decay; it’s considered a rebirth for a reason. He doesn’t know why his memories stay so vivid, but he treasures them. In the end, it’s easier and safer to stop mentioning them, to pretend the memories are starting to decay, so that Maria stops interrogating him, so that she thinks he’s finally behaving how he should.

The first time Alice sees Jasper bleed, she nearly screams. It trickles into his eyes and he swears, and she’s frozen in a vision that she cannot escape from. He swipes it off his forehead and sucks on his fingers a moment to swipe over the shallow wound.

And it’s sealed. Does he have a healing gift?

She doesn’t know.

But the visions start showing her the things that are to come. The Cullens are still a possibility, but Jasper will be more skittish about joining them, about letting others know about what he is. About having to live with more vampires after South. He’s terrified of Carlisle on so many levels, and the idea of school goes against everything his uncle taught him.

But she’s gratified that he seems happy when they’re together. That he sees something in her, the lost girl, that maybe he recognises.

I love you Jasper, and I know that we’re going to be so happy together.

And she does. She loves that he can walk in the sunlight without notice, but he still hates doing it. She loves that he has no special talent for languages, but has still managed to learn Spanish and French fluently. That he’s never learnt to dance, but he’ll dance with her. That at some point she’s going to try to cook for him, and it’ll be a messy disaster and he’ll just laugh until there are tears in his eyes and tell her that he loves her for trying.

Sometimes she wishes that she could share visions, pass them from her head to another’s because she wants to be able to save all of this for him, to show him that everything is going to be okay. Better than okay; perfect.

Peter is a blessing in disguise. At first, he’s only there to make trouble, only there to test the boundaries and question authority. He hears Jasper’s sluggish heart, sees the way Maria watches over him, and decides that Jasper is the weak link, and he just needs to exert the right amount of pressure to break him.

It goes about as well as expected, and something about the fact that Jasper is the one that returns Peter’s arm instead of throwing it on the pyre cements something between them. Loyalty, understanding, and a sense of fairness.

Friendship and brotherhood comes in time. But that evening, as Jasper realigns the joint and explains to Peter that Maria has tried to rip off Jasper’s arm before but the joints are weird because he was already venomous before being bitten, that it didn’t work. Did fuck up his shoulder for a while though.

Peter is fascinated. That he can be cut and bruised and broken, but they can’t do something as simple as tear him into pieces. That Jasper takes days to heal, and on the long sunny days they stay inside for, Jasper sleeps.

She finds him in Philadelphia and, oh, her heart breaks. In her well-loved dress and too-big shoes with the creases deep across the toes, she looks like a real lady compared to him.

He’s outside in the alley, trying to convince himself to go inside. She’s seen it happen both ways, and that’s why she was late. To make sure that either way, he’s going to find her. She refuses to risk it any other way.

In the flesh, he’s a lot further gone than she expected. Enough that she discards her coat and her shoes as she enters the alley, moving quietly towards him. He’s so thin, and his hair is a tangled mess around his face, and he bares more than one bruise. His clothes are woeful, filthy and too thin for the cool weather. He’s not going to survive another winter like this.

“Hello,” she says, and when he looks at her, his eyes almost pass as hazel, with the ring of fading red around the pupil. But he also looks hunted and haunted, like an animal backed into a corner. “I’ve been looking for you.”

She smiles at him, and he stares back for a moment before he relaxes a little. “I didn’t realise I had an appointment,” he manages, his voice cracking with disuse. He lets her get a little closer, looking at her bare feet, her green dress that has seen better days, the less-than-clean gloves, and the ribbon in her hair. Oh, and her purse.

“That’s okay, because I’m here now,” she decides to brazen it out, and goes closer to sit beside him except he stops her.

“You’ll spoil your clothing,” he says, getting to his feet and he’s so very tall. He has to look down at her, and she feels very delicate and precious as he does so.

“I have a lot of clothing to spoil,” she says honestly, and he still looks uncomfortable. “I’m Alice.”

“Hello Miss Alice.” He sounds uncertain but for her, it’s the most beautiful sound because it’s the very first time that she’s ever heard him speak her name out loud.

—

#jasper hale #alice cullen #jalice #my fic: hybrid jasper #ficmas #ficmas23 #twificmas23 #jasper being 'special' would make maria even more posessive #and peter more protective #and alice going 'oh no i have to look after both of us' when jasper picks a fight and ends up with a bloody nose #poor alice trying to make pancakes and it going so so wrong #alice and jasper trying to work out how to conceal his condition so the cullens don't find out #i will have so uch fun finishing this

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writtengalaxies · 6 months

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Characters: Heehoo

Word count: 629

Spicy Levels: Tame.

Author Notes: ....I blame @cookieface678 for the fact that I can now apparently write the wild man. I'm...just as surprised as y'all are.

The reason you were here in these woods was simple.

You were looking for a legend. Well, sort of a legend. A myth in part.

Honestly, okay, you were out here on a stupid dare from your friends in the middle of the night, looking for trouble.

See, you were the most comfortable with camping, having done it several times before, but most of your friends didn't understand what it was like to just disconnect from the internet. The idea gave several of them pause, and you couldn't really blame them. Why would they do that, if they didn't have to? There was safety in numbers, and you...

Well, you bragged that you've done solo camping trips where your phone was only maybe able to get any sort of signal in case of an emergency.

In hindsight, that wasn't the best idea, nor was it to agree, even jokingly, to it. At least they came with you, helped set up your camp, made sure they knew where you were, so if something terrible did happen, they wouldn't be combing the massive woods for days. Hopefully nothing would happen.

The second part of this was because you had overheard them talking about a local legend. A wild man in the woods.

"Some people say he used to be a god, some local nature deity forgotten by time. People keep saying they see him show up in different parts of the world."

"Oh, c'mon, that sounds like Bigfoot."

"But for real, I heard he's more like a cryptid, though! Because he's way too big to be a person."

You couldn't help yourself, the skeptical mind coming to the front over anything else. "Has anyone actually seen him or taken photos?"

"Photos of the Heehoo?" You had to struggle to not laugh at the ridiculousness of the name, with the weight in which they spoke it, like if they said the name, he'd appear.

"No one's seen it and lived!"

"Some people take photos, but they're so blurry you can't make out what's supposed to be on them."

You scoffed, and thus the dare was born.

Which is how it was nearly midnight as you sat by your crackling fire, enjoying the solitude of the woods. It was beautiful out here, the air just crisp enough that the fire was comfortable to sit near, the stars peeking through the canopy overhead. It was peaceful. But over time, you became...aware. The noises of insects quieted around you, the soft hooting of an owl going silent. Every nighttime woodland noise that is easy to dismiss when it becomes a quiet background song has faded back to nearly nothing. And you are aware.

Aware of eyes on you, watching you, tracking your movements. You really hope it's not a bear, because you did your best making sure your camp was safe from that, but versus a determined bear? You really couldn't do much. You listened, trying to track the movement right back, listening to how the underbrush shifted and sighed, the soft crunch of tiny twigs and the hush of pine needles...

And he stepped forward, on two legs but hunched forward, to use his arms as a support as he paused and leaned forward further. Scenting the air like a dog, dark eyes piercing. He is tall, and muscular, and inches closer to you, as though he's afraid you might run. He glances down at your fire, and the simple meal, then back at you. Somehow, impossibly, you find your voice.

"Would...would you like some?"

He nods, sitting quite politely, all things considered. With shaking hands, you offer him the simple campfire meal, and breath out an incredulous sigh.

"Are...are you...Heehoo?"

He grunts with a nod.

Well.

This was going to be a time.

#my writing #heehoo #wild man wild time #markiplier heehoo #markiplier egos #congrats cookie I can now write heehoo things

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two-red-lungs · 2 years

Text

Collection of Lost Boys thoughts I have:

Wait is Star just David’s beard (slang for ‘dating someone’ as a coverup for sexual orientation). Is that. Is that what’s going on

So David ‘n Michael really just are Hannibal and Will with the whole “how far are you willing to go/trying to kill one another” dynamic huh. Seems fruity to me IDK

New challenge: Marko tries to keep his tongue inside his mouth for more than 15 minutes. He WILL not make it. Put that thing back where it came from or so help me

Does anyone in this FUCKING GANG have more than a singular ear piercing??? Guys WHAT are you doing. Is to match? Is it a matching thing???

If this movie was made in 2022 the big epic David and Michael final fight would have ended with them really aggressively love/hate kissing

The idea that since they don’t wear helmets sometimes one of the boys just fucking BRAINS themselves is so funny to me. (David voice) “Pack it in, boys, we’re calling it an early night. Marko’s gonna need a day to heal after he split his fuckin’ head open on that rock”

Star should date Robin from Stranger Things because A. Robin would be SO head over heels for her and B. Star doesn’t get any attention from the boys and I just know she and Robin would become an inseparable unit

When David blew smoke in Michael’s face on the boardwalk he ABSOLUTELY wanted to kiss the dude. Officer that’s not an undead vampire that’s a repressed gay man who has internalized his feelings so much they come out as aggression

PAUL HAS A COMMENT ABT EVERYTHING??? During the chinese food scene he just HAD to interject like, every five seconds. He’s so chatty. He’s the running commentary. I feel like he could sweep u away in a one-sided conversation honestly

“Michael don’t :((((( it’s blood :((((((” Yes go queen give us nothing, you literally didn’t try to stop him even a little bit

David drinking from the Blood Bottle was just

Do we all agree Dwayne is the silent honeypot and Paul is the talker (not the sweet-talker, more just Talks So Much At You that suddenly you’re in a different location with no idea how you got there)

DWAYNE PLAYING DEAD ON THE FLOOR??? His mental voice just saying “oh yeah, this is gonna surprise em, gonna get em so good with THIS one, the ol I’m dead trick”

They all drive in formation right. Do they take turns on who has to be in the far back because they get sprayed to shit w sand and dirt

IMAGINE THEM ALL STANDING AROUND WAITING FOR THEIR BIKES TO FILL UP AT THE GAS STATION SDUBDFGDFG 🧍🧍🧍🧍

This is terrible but I'm so right okay??? If the boys pick a target who won’t respond to flirting they use Laddie. Walk him over, hand in hand, with him fake-crying like “hey, scuse me, my brother can’t find our pops and he’s real upset about it, think you can help us out?”

Does the blood have a drug effect? BC Michael is clearly zonked as soon as he drinks it, like the dude is toasted

The bonfire scene was.... kinda hot. Idk don’t look at me

What is the Boys’s bedtime ritual like??? They all gotta get up there. They all fall asleep at the same time. Do they talk??? Gossip? Does David slap the backs of their heads and say “shaddup, ‘m tryin to sleep”???

A really epic way to kill a TLB-style vampire would be to trap them in a sunbed and turn it on. Instant smoke/fog machine. Lots of screaming.

None of the boys can sneak up on people, they’re all so fucking jingly

#the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys #david the lost boys #TLB #the lost boys marko #the lost boys paul #the lost boys dwayne

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lykegenia · 3 months

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Happy Valentine’s Day, lovely person 🌹

I love your writing so much (your Nate! And Leah!) and am so happy you’ve started sharing more about Rhi and Mason as well. And whenever you share your thoughts, they are always so well-though out and interesting to read!

Here’s a romance-themed OC question for any OC(s) of your choosing (no pressure to answer on Valentine’s day itself, or at all):

What combination of random objects would your OC use to describe their LI? What do they represent? Bonus question: What would their LI use to describe them?

Dearest Nonny, you have no idea what a delight it was to wake up to this message this morning. Thank you so much for such kind words, it's one of the best feelings to know my characters are loved 🌹

For the OC question...

Objects Leah would use to describe Nate:

A fountain pen, but like, a really fancy one made of tortoiseshell and ebony and gold wire - not only do charming words seem to flow easily from him, but there's a certain elegance in his hands and a lightness of touch that matches the finesse required to use a fountain pen properly (she could never master it). It's also slightly old-fashioned, but there's potential for change as well with special inks or new designs like those glass nibs, which he would probably appreciate even if he was a bit dubious at first.

A cashmere blanket - soft and comforting and cozy (and expensive, because Nate would never compromise on quality). Something that she doesn't necessarily need or was missing before it came into her life, but woe betide you if you try to take it away from her. She's snuggled and comfortable now.

A star chart - not just for his naval background, or his penchant for deep thinking, but because people have always used the stars for guidance. She never really had a direction before UB came into her life, but now she does, and the feeling of looking up into the vastness of the night sky is very reminiscent of the rare mornings where she can wake up before Nate and watch him still sleeping.

Nate for Leah:

A (European) magpie feather - elegant but understated and unassuming, from an intelligent but often overlooked/maligned bird, until you look at it from the right angle and the plain black shimmers into brilliant irridescence. He once listened to her talk for an hour about how structural colours evolved in birds, and wishes she could appreciate that complex beauty in herself.

A lit candle - staring down the darkness of eternity often seemed unbearable at times. There were previous sparks, but nothing to provide the steady light that Leah provides him. The sweet smell of beeswax meant it was used to create church candles in the medieval period, and being close to her certainly feels holy, the flame bright and warm but with a bite if you're not careful. But at the same time, it's precious, because eventually the flame will burn down and go out, and the memory of it will be all that's left.

An arrow - it flies straight and true and pierces its quarry without mercy, and that's what Leah is like in the pursuit of justice. There are also so many stories where arrows are a symbol of devotion, from St Sebastian to Cupid, and he likes the imagery of himself as an Arthurian white stag finally brought down by a strike to the heart.

Bonus Mason and Rhi:

"What the fuck kind of question is that? Rhi's not an object, and if I wanted to describe her, I'd just say she's hot." "Charming." "Don't hear you contradicting me." "Well I know what kind of object you are." "Oh?" "You're one of those metal ring puzzles you get in Christmas crackers that are fun for the first few minutes before everyone gets sick of it." "I like to think it'd take more than a few minutes to get bored of playing with me, Sweetheart." "And you even come with a terrible joke - do not respond to that." "Wouldn't dream of it."

#rhi doesn't mean it #much #she's just surprised mason didn't compare her to a cigarette or something #but fun fact #cigarettes are something he can live without now #he's going to go away and think about this for a week and come up with a really prodfound answer out of context #meanwhile leah and nate are out here falling deep into the romance of it all #i apologise to anyone who hasn't experienced christmas crackers #i got carried away #the wayhaven chronicles #nate sewell #twc mason

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elgatt0 · 7 months

Text

Inside Wolves

Chapter II

======================

Maybe memory lapses are something to worry about

======================

Legend pov

I wake up with a start, fear and despair freezing my blood and leaving my body numb.The dripping sweat made my clothes uncomfortably sticky and squeezed my lungs desperate for air.

The sky that was dark and empty was now clear with a damn star blinding my eyes. But I gain a moment of relief when a worried face blocks the sunlight.

"Hey, are you okay?" It takes a few seconds for the purple spots in my vision to disappear and reveal my hero's face: Rancher, his vivid blue eyes pierce mine in sincere concern, shit.

I take a few deep breaths to let the oxygen bring some sense to my brain. Painfully and slowly I sit up with my muscles clenching tightly, sending painful shocks throughout my body.

Oh, if it's not the consequences of my choices. If I had my harp of the ages I'd go back and kick myself in the face for not taking off those damn extra layers before I went to sleep…

…to sleep? I slept? I place the palm of my hand on my forehead to ease the growing pressure in my mind as I try to remember what happened.

Empty sky....silent forest...apple…red ground…blood...blood…blood....wolf.... sailor........sailor?

SAILOR!

I jump to my feet, ignoring the protests of my bones cracking and the rancher trying to calm me down. I look around for the boy, for his dead body.

I see his body, but he's very alive and talkative for someone who's throat was ripped out. The sailor was acting out an imaginary sword in what I assume was another one of his thousand fantastic pirate stories.

The one-eyed hero was listening with an amused expression on his face. It doesn't surprise me, the sailor was the only one who could make him genuinely smile, besides his wife. I remember the surprise of discovering that the grumpy old man was married, but my greatest surprise was seeing that dark face light up with a smile for the first time. Although I'm pretty sure the idea of making kids with his wife was what really excited him that day.

I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding. A dream, a nightmare actually, but when did I sleep? I lay down on the grass, but I didn't wake up in the same place…Captain Flat Ass threw an apple and then…then…him

Empty sky....silent forest…corpse…red hair…blood...blood…blood...Wolfie…

My head hurts terribly as I feel dizzy with purple clouds filling my vision. A gentle, strong hand holds my shoulder firmly, preventing me from falling into the darkness of fainting.

This goat maniac is really being my guardian angel today.

"What's the matter? You're paler than goat's milk, Did the makeup-free captain visit your dreams?" Said captain gives the rancher such a dirty look that I could hear all the dirtiest words polluting his mind, eager to be spilled from his mouth. I was rooting for this to happen.

"It was nothing, I'm fine." I regained some of my composure and tried to slouch away from the rancher's hand, but he held my shoulder firmly, more than necessary I would say. He was worried, like the damn mother cucco he was, even though he didn't say it in words, he wanted the truth and I was trapped in his clutches, with no lies to escape.

This gives me a strange feeling of déjà vu…

I tried to organize my thoughts, but the train overturned and took everything with it. I must have been standing there staring into the void for a long time because the grip on my shoulder became more intense to the point where I felt a little, familiar , pain, which was impressive given that I was wearing my red tunic.

The rancher notices my discomfort and finally takes his hand off my shoulder with an apologetic look, but still waiting for an explanation. Mr Scarf was also looking at me strangely and silently, I feel like he wants to say something but holds back, probably still upset about yesterday. Until when was yesterday real? It's all so blurred in my mind that it feels like an old dream.

"It was just a nightmare…And back pain, that's all" A short truth without details. The rancher didn't seem satisfied, he wanted to say more, to know more, but he remained silent because he realized he was being too intrusive, good for me.

Maybe not

An awkward wall of silence stands between us, each one wanting to say something but it was there to stop us.

I'm not mad at him, it's just that I'm not used to someone worrying about me…The rancher was a nice guy, cares a little too much but he will always be there when you need him and even when you don't want to need him.... like a dog .

Maybe I'm just overreacting, maybe it's my mind playing tricks again, it's not the first time, the island, the wolf…

A clap of hands breaks the wall and the sound flows again, the captain had a sweet smile but a sour look. "Today is going to be a long day, so do yourself a favor and eat breakfast properly, this team only has room for a grumpy old man" their attempt to try to cheer me up and relax the tension is something adorable, a good move, but I am too tired for that.

I just shake my head and leave without another word, feeling their worried eyes following me.

There is a lot that remains unsaid, whether due to a lack of trust or the right to privacy, secrets, memories, dreams …Sometimes I feel stupid for being so rude about everything, I should talk more, trust more, they are reincarnations of the hero, not Ganon.

Why can't I tell them about Wolfie? It's not like I haven't already tried to bring it up but...Something always stops me… Someone…why, why, why…

My head hurts terribly again as I walk to my things in short steps while my pain follows me in long steps kicking my ass.

I didn't leave it here last night…

I crouch down and grab my bag which, magically, is always full of food in the morning, no longer surprising. Maybe if I use it as a pillow, the wild fairy will leave rupees too, who knows.

I sit leaning against a tree, eating absentmindedly, looking at everything and nothing at the same time. The sun was bright and vivid and the forest was still, strangely, silently morbid.

It's like the saying goes: nothing is so bad if it can get worse. Our arrival in this era was not the best, and the course is getting even worse. That village should have been our support anchor but it only served to sink our leaky ship. But despite everything, why do I feel like they didn't lie?

Someone sits next to me, I don't need to look to know who it is, the sweet smell of magic mixed with moldy earth is enough:

"What do you want?" The question came out harsher than I wanted, but my bad morning mood didn't allow me to feel bad about it.

The traveler raises his hands in a sign of peace "No need to bite, I just want to sit and enjoy nature like you"

"Find another tree to lean your ass against, mine is already here."

"Oh come on! The tree is roomy enough for two a-"

" What do you really want, traveler?"

The humble hero recoiled a little at my harshness, this time my bad mood wasn't enough to suffocate the guilt I felt.

"You're still as sharp as those mountain rocks when we arrived in this era. That's good, I guess hahaha" He laughs, rubbing the back of his head with his hands awkwardly, not knowing how to continue the conversation, or if he should continue.

"Sorry…" The food seems bitter to me now, I blame my mood for that.

"It's okay, I know you're not a people person and I don't want to be nosy but... Since the last battle you seem a little..."

Our last battle....everyone remembers it vividly while I only have blurs of memories…"It was probably for the better" That's what the little guy said when he brought the subject up.

"More jerk than usual" I finished the sentence for him.

"What!? I mean, yeah, a little bit… but No! That's not it! What's wrong? You don't look well, you don't eat much, you're always tense, on alert and what happened a few moments ago…" Of course he saw it, everyone must have seen my drama.

"I know, I know! It's just I…. Wol - It's complicated" I keep imagining how pathetic I looked to wake up in a panic attack, even more so from a silly nightmare, they must think I'm crazy.

Traveler moves a little from where he sits uneasily "You know… last night you-"

"We have to continue" The old man appeared out of nowhere causing my soul to leave my body. How long had he been there?!

"You should share your silence technique with the sailor, my ears would love that" I get up, putting the rest of the food in my bag.

The old man ignored my sarcasm and frowned in disapproval at my minimal eating, not uttering a word. He doesn't need to, his eye speak for him.

He stares at me for a few more seconds before sighing and letting his mouth speak for him this time:

"We will split into groups of 3, this will allow us to explore the area more widely and prevent the enemy from ambushing one of us alone" If they are real I can almost hear it from his mind, glad I'm not the only one getting paranoid.

"And then we gather here, sounds like a good plan" I finished getting ready to play Lost with freaks in a bizarre forest in an unknown era, day 2, but then I remembered the traveler was going to tell me something about last night:

"Hey-" Before I could ask anything, he had already left to join his team. I just watch him walk towards the captain and skyloftian with a strange feeling in my heart. It probably wasn't that important, just my curiosity.

A poke in my ribs changed my focus, the little guy had a big smile that was antithetical to his height:

"Hey, looks like it'll just be the two of us for a while" He waves to me to follow him, the others are already following their paths.

"I thought we should form a trio" I follow close behind as we walk through the forest.

"Well, yes. Our third member ran ahead earlier to check the perimeter, you know him" Rancher , typical of him.

"Wow, someone's not a good boy "

"He'll be fine, he's already faced monsters almost 100x his size, a macabre forest shouldn't be anything"

"Tell that to the old man when he finds out we broke the plan in less than 5 minutes"

" If he finds out" the little guy smirks.

"Wow, what you lack in height you have in courage"

"Very funny, make fun of my size all you want, because unlike you I'm small for a reason, it's my battle tool"

"Yes of course, to bite the shins of your enemies"

"ha ha, have your laughs one day you'll see." He points forward "Well, there's no reason for the old man to be mad at us, our third member is coming"

I look in the direction the little guy is pointing hoping to see the goat-loving rancher.

But I only see the woe-loving beast.

Out of so many heroes, why did he come to us?!

I'm grateful that I didn't eat much earlier because it would be certain that I would throw up everything now due to the strong churning of my stomach.

The headache didn't help my misery either.

As I struggle to keep the food in its place, I see the little guy running towards wolfie, riding on his back like a docile horse.

With his tail wagging, the beast pretended to enjoy the attention... like last time

…Not again…

…Again?...

…Why again?...

...Has this ever happened?...

…Sailor?...no…

…It was not real…

…It was not him…

...It was them…

Bones and metal crushed, screams of agony, the green grass turns red, ran-

The world spins around me, my legs weaken, my knees bend and the ground embraces my being.

Heavy boots and worried voices torment my ears before my consciousness falls into darkness. There was someone else there

" Go help them, I'll take care of the veteran."

" We're going back to the village "

Ordon Village

Prev // next>>

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu #lu fanfiction #lu fic #linked universe fanfic #my silly writing #lu chain #lu time #lu twilight #lu warriors #lu wolfie #lu hyrule #lu four #lu legend #lu wind #lu au

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janetbrown711 · 1 year

Text

Make A Wish

Almost at the star

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15

Ao3 Link

The Warner siblings were doing okay.

Sure, there were a few bumps along the path here and there, Wakko almost passing out being one of them, but ever since Yakko got some food in him, he was starting to look and feel better. Not his usual self, of course (you can’t just shake off starvation like that), but better. Then again, almost anything is a better state than dying.

But still.

Nothing major had happened. They were sailing smoothly up and down the mountains, the wind and snow on their side. They were even having a little bit of fun again. It was… nice.

“So the wishing star can really give you anything you want?” Dot asked. Wakko nodded.

“That’s what Pip said,” He grinned, his tongue sticking out.

“So we’re really gonna get mom and dad back? Wow,” Dot smiled a little. “I’m done with grandma.”

“I think you speak for all of us when you say that,” Yakko laughed.

“What do you wanna do when they come back?” Dot asked her brothers.

“I think I’d give them a big hug and then we’d go back to the garden and have a big fancy picnic all day, just like the ones we used to have on mine and Daddoo’s birthday,” Wakko grinned.

“What about you Yakko?” Dot turned her head to him.

“That’s a good one…” Yakko thought for a moment. Truthfully, he had no idea. He’d been preoccupied with worries about his sibs ever since they died he hardly had the time to envision what he’d do if they came back or never died. He had to give it some thought.

“I’d hug them, obviously. Then, I’d tell them about all the good things they missed, the lessons we’ve given you, the birthdays, and other good things like that. Then, I’d just… spend time with them. We wouldn’t have to do anything- just to sit in a room and read with them in the room too would be enough for me…” Yakko thought aloud.

“Oooo, that sounds nice,” Dot smiled a little.

“What about you Dot?” Yakko asked. Dot sat and thought.

“I think I’d hug them, tell them how much I missed them, and then have mom brush my hair and sing lullabies, and Dad reads bedtime stories… maybe we’d even play dolls together,” Dot hugged herself a little, touching her hair lightly.

“It’s been so long, I-i think I might’ve forgotten…” she blinked distantly.

“It’s okay Dot- mom will be back brushing your hair and singing lullabies and Dad’ll be back with his stories before you know it,” Yakko reassured, and Dot’s face brightened.

“Yeah! They’ll be back before I know it,” She snapped out of her funk.

“How much longer do you think, Yakko?” Wakko asked.

“Probably within the hour,” He estimated.

That felt crazy to say.

“Within the hour.”

His parents were less than an hour away.

This was actually happening.

“Cool,” Wakko nodded.

“Yeah… cool,” Yakko chuckled, still reeling at the thought.

The siblings rode in silence for a moment, each processing what “within the hour” really meant, getting more and more excited the more they thought about it.

This wasn’t some far-off fantasy- the star was right there! All they had to do was reach it first, and since they hadn’t run into any other travelers it actually looked like they’d make it- it seemed luck was finally on their side for once.

“Hey Yakko- there’s someone behind us,” Wakko pulled on Yakko’s pant leg and pointed.

“I just had to jinx it, didn’t I?” Yakko thought to himself.

Yakko sighed and looked.

It was the royal carriage.

“Fire!” A voice from within the carriage ordered.

“You two- get down,” Yakko ordered as a musket was fired from the carriage. Dot and Wakko were quick to obey.

“Of course she has a gun- of course she does,” Yakko growled as he steered them away, as he heard it fire again, piercing a tree just beside them.

“Yakko- are we gonna-?”

“Everything’s gonna be okay, I got you,” Yakko assured, looking back and saw Angelina sticking her head out the window.

She looked terrible. The wind caused her usually perfect up-do to lose quite a few hairs, which were now flapping in the wind. Rage had consumed her, and her usually refined makeup created dark smudgy circles under her eyes. He made eye contact with her for a brief moment and never had he ever seen her with such hatred in her eyes.

Huh.

Yakko had always wondered what would happen if they tried to run away.

Guess that was the answer.

Yakko then put his attention back onto the path ahead, and got nervous when he realized it was about to get a little narrow, meaning he probably couldn’t weave should they aim directly for them, though he could try… Hopefully, the person firing was a better person than their grandmother, and wouldn’t aim for them, not on purpose…

“It’ll be okay,” Yakko said again, sucking in a breath of cold air as he weaved through a few trees before going onto the narrow path.

Thankfully, it appeared the person in charge of firing was either a poor shot or wasn’t aiming for them like he wanted, because no matter what, he always hit the mountainside. However, this wasn’t a good thing, because it caused the snow to shift and for rocks to fall onto the path, which Yakko feared would cause either an avalanche or rockslide- neither of which would be good.

“Is that grandma?” Wakko asked, peeping his head to look.

“I said to stay down,” Yakko ordered, and Wakko went back down.

The cannon fired again, this time sending a loud cracking sound through the mountain.

Yakko always just had to jinx it, didn’t he?

He heard the guard behind on the carriage curse, and Yakko tried to pick up the speed of the sled before anything happened- they were almost down too- After that, it was just an open field to the wishing star.

“Yakko- a-are you sure we’re gonna-”

“We’re gonna make it Dot, I promise,” Yakko really didn’t want to deal with any kind of negativity at the moment. He hadto focus.

Just as he predicted, the guard had shot into the cliff, which was now causing massive amounts of snow and rock to start plummeting down the mountain, in a weird mix of “avalanche” and “rockslide”.

“If we weren’t wishing for our parents back, I’d wish we had better luck,” Yakko muttered, trying to avoid falling rocks as the path widened once more.

“Agreed,” Wakko said, holding onto Dot.

The impending doom as it became clearer that there was no way they were going to make it off the mountain without being knocked off their feet and losing the sled or worse was not.

“Brace yourselves you two,” Yakko said, not knowing what other advice he could give. He had never survived an avalanche- what did he expect?

Eventually, Yakko held onto his siblings too, closing his eyes and bracing himself when he felt the sled get turned over and the three of them were tossed into the air.

Being in the air forced them apart on instinct, and they all fell into the snow with a sharp thud, and Yakko almost thought that was a good thing, otherwise he’d land on top of his siblings and that’s not what he wanted.

With all the strength Yakko had in him, he clawed and dug his way out of the snow, and was relieved that both of his sibs had at least gotten their hands to the top by the time he was all the way out. Quickly, Yakko got the rest of him out, and dug out his sibs, surprised to find they had already reached the plane.

“There it is… the Wishing Star,” he said as he helped Wakko stand.

“Wow…” Dot said in awe.

And “Wow” didn’t even begin to describe it. It was brilliant, it was beautiful, it was gigantic it was–

There was shouting from behind.

Yakko looked back and saw that somehow their grandmother’s stupid carriage had survived.

“C’mon, we have no time to lose,” he said, taking his sibs hands and running for it.

He was not going to lose to her. Not here, not now, not ever.

As they ran, Angelina kept yelling with the guard, and Dot kept turning her head despite Yakko’s constant attempts to get her to stop without letting go of their hands.

“Don’t look back, Dot,” He ordered. Dot didn’t listen.

“I don’t care anymore- get the smaller one!” He heard Angelina shout extra loud, and Yakko panicked and picked up the pace. Dot however, froze in her tracks, letting go of Yakko’s hand, looking back.

“Wakko! Watch out!” She screamed, jumping and shoving him down to the ground and–

An ear-piercing gunshot rang through the plane, and Dot screamed in pain, before falling to the ground.

“Dot!!!” Yakko screeched to a halt and ran back to her, while Wakko remained frozen on the ground in shock.

The snow around her was already turning red.

And Wakko’s face was speckled with it.

“Oh god- oh god oh god oh god-” was the only thing Yakko could say as he knelt onto the snow and examined his sister.

“Y-y-yakko-” She said, shuddering in pain, which only made it worse. Yakko put her head on his knees and held her hand.

He could hear arguing from behind.

“It’s gonna be okay Dot- It’s gonna be okay,” he said, tears already filling his eyes and a tight lump formed in his throat.

“I-it hurts Yakko,” she said, fear in her eyes.

Wakko broke from his frozen state to carefully crawl over. “I know Dot, b-but it’s gonna be okay,”

Yakko looked up to try to see if he could see their grandmother, but he couldn’t. Yakko realized he didn’t care- he couldn’t care. Not right now.

Dot shuddered in pain. “I-i wanna go home,” She said.

“I know Dot, we’re gonna. We’re gonna get our wish and we’re gonna go home, okay? W-we’ll pick you up and carry you if we have to,” Yakko said shakily.

“I-i’m scared,” Dot cried.

“Don’t be scared, I’m right here,” Yakko assured, giving her hand a squeeze. Dot cringed as her breathing got more unsteady. She turned her head away from her brothers.

“M-mommy? Daddy?” She asked weakly. Yakko sniffled and wiped his eyes.

“M-mom and Dad aren’t here yet Dot s-so don’t go to–”

Wakko tugged on his arm. Yakko looked up.

His parents were there, running in the snow with all their might.

“No, they… they can’t…” Yakko couldn’t say anything. The siblings were dumbstruck.

“Mommy! Daddy!!!” Dot was full on sobbing now.

“Dottie!!!” Their parents cried out in unison, picking up their pace until they reached them.

“Y-you’re… y-you can’t…” Yakko couldn’t speak. Wakko practically leapt into his mother’s arms sobbing, while William went and held Dot’s other hand.

“It’s okay, Dot. W-we’re here honey,” William said, placing a soft hand on her cheek.

“Daddy, i-it really hurts,” she cried. “Make it go away, please.”

“I-i know honey,” William said, as he slowly picked her up. Yakko just watched in awe.

“It’s gonna be okay- alright? Everything's gonna be just fine,” he spoke so softly and familiarly…

“I wanna go home. I wanna hear a story,” She grabbed her father’s shirt and pulled on it desperately.

“We’ll go home real soon, okay cutie? We’ll go home and we’ll read you a bedtime story and tuck you in, alright?” He asked. Dot nodded even though the action clearly pained her.

“That sounds good– I-i w-wanna go home,” she sobbed, closing her eyes intensely.

“I know sweetie, I wanna go home too” William hugged her closer, rubbing his face against hers.

“Y-y-yakko,” Dot turned her head weakly.

“Y-yeah? I-I’m here, Dot,” Yakko wiped his eyes, being forced back into the moment. William slowly set her back down again and Yakko held her hand once more.

“Yakko, you’ll go home too, right?” She sniffled and smiled weakly.

“O-of course. All of us- we’ll all be there, okay? We’re gonna get our wish and we’re gonna go home, okay?” Yakko asked, looking at his parents and Wakko.

“O-okay,” she smiled a little more. “We-we’re gonna go home, a-and be together– a big happy family,” she said.

“Y-yeah Dot. A big happy family,” Yakko stroked her face with his thumb, doing his best not to choke.

“Yakko I don’t wanna die,” she looked at him. “I-i’m not ready to die.”

“Th-then don’t–! Y-you can’t die– I won’t let you,” Yakko pleaded with her.

“Yakko I wanna go home,” She cried, squeezing his hand with all the weak might within her.

“It’s gonna be okay, Dot. Y-you aren’t gonna die,” William said, but it was clear the light was already fading.

“I-i’m– I’m sorry…”

Her eyes became glossed over, and she went limp.

No.

No, no, no.

William checked for a pulse.

No.

He checked for breathing.

“This is– she can’t actually– this is–”

Eventually, their father just picked her up and burst into tears.

Yakko couldn’t believe this. It wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening.

Dot…

Dot was dead.

.o0o.

Dot was dead.

Her baby girl was dead.

Lena hadn’t said a word- why hadn’t she said anything?!

She should’ve said something- anything, but now-

Oh god.

She hugged Wakko tighter.

She tried looking down at Dot, but she couldn’t-

God, there was so much blood.

Instead, she looked away- out towards the mountains- where she saw-

No…

She wouldn’t-

She would.

The next emotion Lena felt was rage. It consumed her, mixing in with her grief and anguish. She sprang to life, picking up William’s sword and running toward the Wishing Star, fueled by her anger and hatred.

She ignored any pain felt in her legs, focusing only on stopping Her- she couldn’t reach the star.

“Stop. Right. There,” She said, cutting off her mother from the star, pointing the sword at her mother.

“Angelina,” The queen halted, even taking a step back. “Y-you’re supposed to be dead.”

“You’d know that, wouldn’t you?” Lena glared. “Your assassins failed. William and I survived.”

“And yet, I’m still winning,” Angelina laughed wickedly.

“Not for long,” Lena pointed the sword at her mother, who laughed again.

“You don’t have the guts,” Angelina rolled her eyes.

“You’d be surprised at the amount of anger a mother can have when someone murders their child,” Lena stepped forward.

“They were aiming for that abomination of a younger son,” Angelina rolled her eyes. “It’s not my fault that girl was foolish enough to jump in the way.”

“You do not get to speak of her or Wakko that way,” Lena stepped forward, the sword now inches away from the queen. She laughed.

Angelina scoffed. “You know, I really didn’t think you’d ever be one to commit treason like this. I always thought you were smarter than throwing away your whole life just to get back at me.”

“It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make for my children– something you’d never understand.”

“You know nothing of sacrifice–! All I ever did was sacrifice for you and you never appreciated it,” Angelina shouted.

“Ever since I was born, you’ve hated me. You’ve exploited me, tortured me, abused me, and just– you made my life a living hell! And you want to know the worst part, ‘mother’?” She put the sword down and got right in front of her.

“All of this I could’ve found within myself to forgive, but the moment you laid a hand on my children was the moment you signed your death certificate,” Lena stepped forward.

Angelina chuckled. “Your attachments make you weak, Angelina. For the kingdom’s sake I hope you think about what you’re doing and step down.”

“You know, you’ve taken everything from me,” Lena didn’t regard that comment. “I used to think there was hope for you– maybe if I was just good enough or kind or patient enough– I was foolish, a child even. But now I know you’re nothing but a selfish monster. A monster who I will never let hurt me or my family ever again.”

“Goodbye, mother.” Lena said, before stepping back and stabbing the sword through her.

Her mother smiled still.

“Give Yakko my regards, Angelina. I always did have such high hopes for him,” she laughed weakly, which Lena replied by immediately taking the sword out of her.

Her mother’s body hit the snow, and she was dead without another word.

Good Riddance.

She tossed the sword to the ground.

Blood.

Blood was everywhere.

It stained her blue dress, it stained the snow, it stained her hands, it stained her fur, it stained Dot, it stained William, it stained Wakko, it stained her soul.

She staggered away from her mother and eventually forced herself to look away as tears filled her eyes.

Her actual family needed her.

Quicklys she ran back and gave Yakko a big hug.

For the first time in forever, he accepted and cried in her arms. She stroked his head softly and soothingly as Wakko joined in the hug, before looking away and realizing the star was still there– she had stopped her mother– they could–

“We can still fix this,” Lena told everyone. Yakko sniffled, confused. Lena helped him up, Wakko too.

“William,” She said softly. Her husband looked at her, and she gestured toward the star. Understanding, he stood and picked Dot up.

Lena took in a deep breath, squeezing both of her boy’s hands before walking towards the Wishing Star. When they reached it, Wakko silently asked for her permission to touch it. Lena gave his hand a loving squeeze, and Wakko reached forward, and the star shined brighter, a burst of light shooting through the sky.

Wakko closed his eyes and made his wish.

The star’s glow increased as it expanded, sending a refreshingly warm breeze through the air until it disappeared completely, leaving only grass behind from where the star had melted the snow. Everyone held their breath.

“D-dad..? M-mom? What..?” Dot opened her eyes.

“Dot,” Lena smiled, tears of relief and joy now flowing.

Quickly, everyone wrapped Dot into a big, sobbing, and relieving group hug.

Dot was alive, Angelina was not, and everything was okay.

#animaniacs #wakkos wish #angelina 1 lives au #janetbrown711 #my fics #queen angelina i #dot warner #wakko warner #yakko warner #sir william the good #lena warner #angst #tw murder #tw blood #tw blood mention #tw death

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castexpectopatronum · 3 years

Text

Liquid Amber - Part II [Remus Lupin x Reader Imagine]

Summary: You had been crushing on Remus Lupin for an eternity when you finally decided to ask him out. However, things do not go as planned and you remain wondering just what exactly is going on with this boy.

word count: 1.6k

trigger warnings: none

notes: apparently this got deleted, so i’m reuploading it

Masterlist

“... and I really don’t know if I should have continued with Divination because on the one hand, sure it’s a fascinating subject but on the other hand, Professor Hartshorn is so incredibly ridiculous, you should’ve heard her yesterday- (Y/N), are you listening to me?”

At once, you snapped out of the daze you had been in and looked at your friend who was eying you with a bemused expression.

“Still thinking about him, are you?”

Sighing deeply, you hunched forwards and rubbed your eyes, utterly exasperated – from both, your work and mind. “Sorry, I just... I can’t get him out of my head, no matter what I do.” She smiled. “No worries, (y/n). We’ve all been through that phase. Probably everbody has that one crush they will never forget. It’s normal.”

“Normal or not, it bloody sucks,” you grumbled, leaning back in the armchair. The two of you were currently sitting in your common room, occuping an entire table with your school work. Quills, parchment and half-empty ink bottles littered the entire surface and the books you didn’t necessarily need had already been banished onto the floor where they were stacked into a dangerously lose pile. But as long as they didn’t fall into the fireplace, it didn’t bother either of you.

A huge yawn escaped your mouth and in a rather half-hearted attempt to be productive, you threw a glance at the essay you were currently working on. Once again, it was for your potions class. Like the time you had gathered all of your courage to ask out Remus Lupin but had been turned down and had felt absolutely humiliated for the remainder of the week. Even now, you still had problems looking him in the eye but as Remus was apparenly determined never to speak with you again, it did not cause you a lot of trouble.

Picking up your quill again only to twirl it in between your fingers, you wondered wether Remus was purposely avoiding you. You wouldn’t be surprised if that were he case; he had looked quite constipated when you had asked him if he wanted to go out with you.

Your stomach tightened unpleasently. If you had known of Remus’ profound aversion to go out on a date with you, you wouldn’t have approached him in the first place. You hadn’t planned for him to get into that kind of rotten situation. Maybe you should go and apologise to him. Was that something you had to do?

It had started to rain; heavy drops were whipping against the window and together with the occasional scratching of your friend’s quill made you fall into a hypnotised state while you stared into the depths of the crackling fire.

”You’re not going to finish that this evening, are you?”

You simply shook your head, not bothering to raise your eyes.

Your friend sighed deeply and rolled up her parchment. “Shall we head to bed, then? I’m finished, anyways.” She groaned loudly as she stretched in her armchair, finally educing a small smile from you.

“Yeah, good idea. Let’s go to sleep.”

One day, you would be able to look back at this and laugh about it. Your first heartbreak was a good story to tell your grandchildren. And that, my dear, is how the first bloke I ever fell in love with rejected me, which is great, though, because if he hadn’t, I wouldn’t have married your grandfather and you would never have been born.

Sadly, however, you were far from getting grey hair and wrinkles and telling bed time stories to your children’s children, so you had to endure sitting in class behind Remus and starring at his stupid brown hair which looked so wonderfully soft that you felt the strong urge to run your fingers through it every time your gaze fell upon it.

And thus, you came to the terribly depressing conclusion that you hated your life. But – of course – you found yourself, once again, unable to despise the person that made your life such a horrible mess. Which made it an even more horrible, messier mess.

The ringing bell, which marked the end of the school day, interrupted your flow of thoughts and you quickly gathered your things together, glad for the opportunity to escape.

While walking back to your common room – you avoided the library as much as you could – you again considered approaching Remus to talk things out. You were still unsure wether or not you owed him an apology, and anyway, you didn’t want things to be awkward between the two of you.

Not that you had had many opportunities to become aware of said awkwardness – Remus was definitely avoiding you.

A sigh escaped you, one in a line of many others since that faithful day in the library, and you tried to focus on all the homework and revision you had to do for today. Going over all of your plans in your head, you turned around the corner-

-and collided straight with another person, causing all of the books in both of your hands to fall and spread onto the ground.

The clash’s force made you stumble several steps backwards, thankfully though you managed to keep your balance, arms waving around.

“Shit, sorry, mate, are you okay?” Once you’ve managed to get a stable footing, you lifted your gaze from the stone floor and looked directly into the face of Remus Lupin.

All colour drained from your cheeks.

“Oh. Hi, Remus. Didn’t see ya there.” You laughed forcefully.

Remus looked at you with a startled expression that quickly turned into one of clear uncomfort.

“Hello, (y/n),” he muttered quietly.

In a desperate attempt to chase away the heavy silence lying between the both of you, you hurriedly gathered up the school books that were scattered around on the stone floor. The two of you stood there in awkward silence, clutching your books to your chests. He was expertedly avoiding your eyes while you were desperately trying to find the right words to say.

Surprisingly though, it was Remus who first raised his voice,

“Listen, (y/n), I need to go, so...”

“Remus-”

“I forgot something in the library-” He tried to quickly walk past you but you seized his arm to hold him back. The look he gave you, however, was one of slight surprise and discomfort.

“I’m sorry,” you said, unable to hide the sorrow in your eyes. “Listen, I never...” You interrupted yourself, an uneasy feeling spreading throughout your stomach. “When I asked you out, I never intended on making you feel uncomfortable. I just ... I just wanted to know if I stood a chance. You really don’t have to feel guilty for anything – and I’m sorry for having put you in this situation.” You licked your lips nervously and let go of his sleeve. “That’s it. I just wanted to apologise. Sorry for bothering you.”

Remus did not say anything in your defense. Nor did he say anything to blame you. He did, in fact, not say anything at all. He simply stared at you, his brown eyes almost burning a hole into your skull. As you looked into his piercing eyes, finding yourself unable to turn you gaze away from them, your heart forgot how to beat.

“Remus?” It was no more than a breath, barely even a whisper, but it was enough to snap him out of his daze. He blinked a few times, then took a hasty step back and cleared his throat. You took a shaky breath – you hadn’t even realised you were holding it.

“I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you,” he said hoarsely, looking at the stone floor instead of meeting your eyes. “Believe me, that wasn’t my intention.”

Your face softened. “I know you didn’t want to hurt me, Remus,” you whispered. “I’m not mad at you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He lifted his head slightly but then changed his mind and continued to stare at the ground. “Me turning you down... That had nothing to do with you.”

You took a step back and furrowed your eyebrows. “What do you mean? Of course it had something to do with me.”

Remus pressed his lips into a thin line and shook his head. “No, (y/n), it didn’t. Please believe me.”

You opened your mouth to speak but no words came out of it. Remus sighed.

“(Y/N), I would have rejected any girl that had been in your place.”

Frowning, you attempted to speak – then you understood. “Oh! Merlin, I am so sorry – I didn’t know you fancy boys. Nobody told me.”

Abruptly, Remus lifted his head and gave you a startled look. “Wha- No, (y/n), I’m not gay.”

“Remus, that really isn’t something you have to be ashamed of, no matter what anybody says-”

“I am not gay!”

You paused. “Alright... Then what is the problem?”

Remus attempted to say something but then changed his mind and pressed his lips together. He looked like he regretted ever bumping into you.

As you examined his face and the tense expression upon it, you sighed in defeat. “You know what, forget it. I’m sorry, that’s none of my business. I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry for what happened back in the library.” A forced smile appeared on your face as you turned to leave. You felt Remus’ burning eyes on you until you had reached the end of the corridor, leaving you more confused than ever before.

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin imagine #marauders era imagine #marauders imagine #liquid amber #part two

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mystical-marauder · 3 years

Text

Painting stars

Sirius enters an art shop, hoping to finally buy the supplies he'd been saving up for for months, but walking through that door brings him much more than expected

This is my first oneshot and I hope you like it and I'll post more writing like this hopefully and my writing can also be found on ao3 my username is @loveglowslikethemoon hope you enjoy :)

Today had been pretty quiet with only a couple customers and the shop was closing in 10 minutes, I was ready to go home...

Ding!

I look up from my book, ‘What kind of customer turns up this late?’ I think. I look around to the door, standing there is a tall, handsome young man, his grey eyes excitedly glancing over the shop, his black hair tied up into a bun. His fair skin is disrupted only by a small beauty mark, under his eye. The confident smile that suddenly splits his face as he turns to me, brings out two dimples that break his otherwise smooth cheeks.

"Afternoon! I'm looking for art supplies, I mean I am in an art shop" he says, chuckling. "I actually need some advice, you have a very wide selection and I'm not quite sure what to pick." he gestures vaguely at the shelves full of pencils and brushes, paint and charcoal, canvases and sketchbooks... "You see I love painting but I have no idea which brushes to use, it's embarrassing really."

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about, actually it's quite common, that’s what I’m here for” I reply with a smile “So you said you paint, right? What do you need, brushes, paint, canvases…?”

“I… um… I actually need everything… You see my parents, well, they kicked me out… and I left everything there… but I've finally saved up enough money to buy new supplies so here I am” he explains chuckling nervously. I look around nervously, unsure what to answer to that but I try to remain as steady and professional as possible.

“That's… terrible, I’m so sorry.” I say, smiling nervously, trying to seem comforting.

“It’s alright, it’s a good riddance I guess.” he replies cheerily “so about those supplies, what do you recommend?”

“Follow me, I’ll show you my recommendations. You’ll have to tell me a bit more about your style of painting so I can give you my best advice.” I say, leading him over to the shelves.

I quickly give him an overview of the different supplies before giving him a more detailed review of each product and advice. We slowly go through the shop and I don’t even notice the minutes fly by. As I walk to another shelf, I catch a glimpse of the clock. I should’ve closed the shop half an hour ago but I decide to leave it. I was having fun. What was the harm of staying open a little while longer? As the minutes pass, our chatter becomes less professional and more friendly. We talked and laughed together and soon enough, we’d picked out all his new art supplies.

“Well there’s everything you need!” I say, walking back to the counter. I start counting the price while chatting to him. “That’s £81.99, the easel is on the house for being such an amiable customer. Do come back if you ever need anything else, it was a pleasure to serve you.” I smile sadly, it had been more than a pleasure and I wish we didn’t have to say goodbye now.

“Thank you” he answers, giving me another of his confident smiles “I- I was wondering if umm… this might sound a bit weird but-” his piercing grey eyes quickly shift away, his normally confident appearance fading to show a childlike nervousness. “Before I left home, well, before I was forced out, I was studying anatomy, and well… I think you'd make the perfect model… Would it be alright if I painted you? If you don't mind, of course. Please don't feel forced to accept anything, but I'd love it if you do. And we could get a chance to get to know each other a little better, maybe somewhere where you don't work.” he clears his voice, as though happy to get this over with, and shifts his grey eyes back to me, his confidence returning. A new childish smile splits his face, as though it had never left it.

My eyes widen as I register what he just asked, and I quickly look away, embarrassed. ‘Perfect?’ as the word races through my mind again and again, I feel my face heat a little. Perfect? Me? No one had ever even called me pretty, let alone perfect, but now this man, who looks like a model himself, wants me to model for him and used that word to describe me. I return the smile, although mine is more nervous than childlike. He tilts his head slightly as though reading my emotions but seconds later, he lets out a small laugh which I quickly copy, trying to diffuse the awkwardness that flourished in me throughout this interaction.

“Are you sure you want me? I mean-” I cut off as I watch him nod confidently “alright I'd love to then!” I answer him, flattered, yet I can't stop the slight shake of my hands. What if I mess up? What if he ends up hating me?

“See you then” he says happily, turning away with a wink. I watch him as he walks out, finding myself to be grinning like a child, like him. I only have one thought left, ‘I don't have to say goodbye.’ I stay standing there for a few minutes with this thought before I snap back to reality. My eyes snap to the clock.

“Fuck” I whisper as I work out the time. If my boss finds out I closed the shop two hours late, I'm done for. ‘Oh well, it was worth it’ I think ‘and anyways he might not even find out.’ I start packing my bag when I suddenly realise he didn't give me a name let alone an address, how was I ever going to find him?! My eyes trail back to the door but of course he is long gone by now… I look around, panicked, as though expecting something to magically give me his address and that's when I notice the folded piece of paper on the counter. I slowly open it, my fingers trembling at the thought that it may not be what I think. I flatten out the paper and quickly read the snippet of writing. I smile inwardly, holding the small, unfolded piece of paper, relief slowly flooding through me as I trace the sentence again and again with my eyes, struggling to believe the evening's events.

19:30 tomorrow room 29 Mirror Hotel - Sirius Black

“Sirius Black” I whisper softly, smiling. “It's nice to meet you, Sirius Black”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I try to steady my hand as doubt rises in me again, one thought racing continuously through my mind ‘What if I mess up?’ I reach out and knock on the door hesitantly. I wait for a few seconds, yet it feels like an eternity, before the door is swung open.

“Found my note I see!” he exclaims, standing in the doorway with a huge grin lighting up his face. I smile back, trying to look as confident as he did.

“Here I brought you this” I reply, showing him my bag. I take out a small black book and present it to him, “it’s my favourite book, actually I was reading it when you came into the shop, I thought that maybe...” I trail off, embarrassed. I rub the back of my neck, feeling the warmth radiating from my palm. “I just thought maybe you'd find it interesting, I've read it so many times I practically know it off my heart” I laugh quietly, quickly glancing up at him “sorry I'm rambling”

Sirius looks at me, curiosity in his eyes. A small laugh escapes his lips before he turns to me and takes the book. He flips it, seemingly interested before looking back at me and taking a step back, to free the entrance. “Well why don't you come in?” he asks, before marking a pause, “I'm sorry I don't think I caught your name.”

“I'm Remus.” I respond, looking back up at him.

“Remus, that's a nice name.” he comments, his grin never leaving his face “the book seems interesting! I'll be sure to give it a try” I listen to him talk while I walk into his room, which is surprisingly organised. There isn't much, a table with an old laptop on it, two chairs, a bed, which takes up most of the space, a set of drawers, a small window and, in the corner, the art supplies he'd bought the day before. “You can sit here” he tells me, pushing one of the chairs towards me, I take it and sit down, putting my bag down next to it, unsure what to do next, I watch him walk over to the corner and pick up his art supplies.

“What do I need to do?” I ask, my hands still trembling slightly in my lap.

“Nothing, don't worry” he replies “just sit there and relax, there's nothing to be scared of” he addresses a friendly smile at me, pulling up the other chair to face me and setting up his easel in front of it. He takes out a brush and some paint, mixing them on his palette, and starts moving his hand up and down the canvas in big yet careful gestures. As the minutes pass, I start to feel more relaxed, watching his movements getting smaller and slower. “So, tell me a bit about yourself” he says, his eyes not moving from the canvas.

“Hmm oh well my life isn't very interesting. I grew up here with my parents, they're both gone now. I work in an art shop, as you know, I really like reading and I don't know what else to tell you…” I answer, thinking that my life must be too boring for him.

“That sounds interesting to me, you must know the surroundings pretty well then! Maybe you could show me around a little, I've been here for a few months but I still manage to get lost sometimes.” he tells me, chuckling.

“I'd love to, but only if you show me how to paint” I reply, nodding happily. As the minutes turn into hours and his painting progresses, we keep talking, about everything and nothing. It felt easy to talk to him, no not easy, right. Soon enough, I knew him like he'd been my friend for years. While we talk, his eyes tend to stay on the painting but sometimes they glide over to me, snapping back to the painting seconds later. In what felt like a short period of time, yet was a few hours, the painting was finished.

“Are you ready? If I'm honest, I'm a little nervous but if it's bad, blame it on the fact I couldn't paint for the past few months.” he admitted with a nervous chuckle, grabbing the canvas and hesitantly turning it towards me.

‘wow’

That's it. That's the only thought that went through my head as my eyes met themselves on the canvas. It's so beautiful and…

“Well? What do you think?” he urges nervously. I suddenly notice his hands trembling slightly and his eyes watching me intensely. He always seems so confident, yet I can see the fear in his eyes now.

“It's so… It's stunning… I'm speechless” I reply, looking him in the eyes quickly before turning back to the painting. The painting looked so realistic, my light curly brown hair and pale green eyes standing out against my pale skin, there is only one alteration. Instead of the freckles that normally sprinkle my face, are little stars. They're beautiful, shining like the stars I can now see from the window.

“Your freckles, they're beautiful, they look like the stars in the night sky. I thought I should paint them as such… They're like little beacons of hope and friendship, when I walked into that shop, I never thought I'd make a new friend, and well, thank you for giving me hope.” Sirius looks at me, his eyes sparkling with the same hope he was talking off. As I look at him, straight into his eyes, I feel a smile reach my lips, knowing my eyes have the same sparkle in them. And as our eyes dig deeper into one another, as we share a smile of happiness of who we found, the minutes slow, as though this moment was frozen in time, which I wish could be the case. Suddenly, we both break eye contact, as though embarrassed by the connection we'd both felt in that second. We both look back up to the painting, our eyes meeting again for a second, causing my face to heat a little. I slowly lift myself out of my seat, taking a step towards the painting to get a closer view of the talent etched on the canvas in front of me.

“It's- it's really stunning” I mutter, still speechless, taking yet another step forward. As I slowly edge forward, I notice something, something that had escaped me at first glance, as it usually escapes others' attention. A thin scar, tracing along the bridge of my freckled nose. Freckles which usually hide it, making it hardly noticeable, especially at first glance. A scar that had been given to me when I was only five, by an overexcited grey dog at the park. It's claw had scratched against the skin of my nose, after it had ambushed me. It had left me with a gash, one that never properly healed and could now be observed under the shape of a scar. This scar. The one he had noticed, when no one else had.

“You got my scar” I whisper in amazement. I slowly reach out to touch it, feeling like all that matters now, is this single detail. A small detail yet seeing it there had given me hope. At the last second, I pull my arm back, like an instinct, and, remembering the paint is still wet, I drop my hand to my side.

“Of course I got it, how could I miss it?” as his voice reaches my ears, I glance to my left to find him standing next to me, admiring the same spot as I was. Him. The man who, right now, felt like a dream come true. We both turn to face one another at the same second, almost as though we're in tune with one another. I find myself getting lost in his stormy grey eyes again, knowing that he was looking straight back into my emerald green ones. For a moment, there's no movement, we both stand there in silence, our eyes sparkling at each other, knowing that this is right. A shadow suddenly masks one of his eyes and I understand that a lock of his hair escaped his small bun. I watch it sway slightly before I instinctively take a step forward, closing what little distance is left between us, and reach out. I mark a pause, waiting to see if he'll reject the movement, but nothing happens. Carefully, I grab the small lock of hair and delicately brush it behind his ear.

As I hesitantly move my hand away, Sirius lets out a low throaty laugh, and I suddenly feel compelled to do something I'd never dreamed of. Instead of pulling my hand back, I instinctively slide it down to the back of his neck, cradling it carefully in my hand, and lean forward, closing the distance between us centimetre after centimetre until we collide. It was a short kiss but our movements were coordinated perfectly.

We pull away, almost reluctantly, and I watch his face quickly turn a deep crimson, knowing mine isn’t much better. I watch his eyes, like two storms lost in the middle of all this redness.

“That was… something” my eyes move down, as I utter these two words, as though expecting them to close the distance again. Our faces were still within centimetres of one another, making me struggle not to kiss them again.

“Something utterly spectacular” Sirius laughs breathlessly, intensifying my impulse to lean in again.

The room falls silent again, as I continue to watch the slight quiver on his lips. The only disturbance in the otherwise perfect silence is the sound of light rain splashing against the window and pavement along with our shallow breathing.

For a long while, we stand there, gazing quietly into each other's eyes, not uttering a single word, yet I feel complete, everything I need is right here, in front of me. This man, who has the most luscious hair, elegance and grace radiating from his unpolished appearance, a mischievous yet friendly glint in his eye, who is staring up at me with those mercury eyes.

And in that second, I feel certain that this is where I belong. That being with Sirius is right.

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dottiechan · 3 years

Text

ICEBREAKER Pt. 2 & 3

Read on AO3 (link in bio)

Pairing: Crosshair x Reader x Hunter

Wordcount: 2060 (Pt. 2); 2050 (Pt. 3)

Summary:

Pt. 2: Three are awake on the Marauder. Two are holding onto one another. One is barely holding on. (Hunter-centric chapter)

Pt. 3: You can only keep saying no to your old addictions for so long before they return with full force. (Crosshair-centric chapter)

Warnings: cursing, smoking & implied nicotine addiction

Part 2

The stars streak and melt against the abyss of space, unsteady and bleeding. You miss the stationary points of light, precise and dependable and easy. Stars make constellations that guide you, that show you the way even when you're lost. Hyperspace just confuses you, chills you to the very bones, makes you feel more lost than you already do. Which, to be fair, is not too difficult right now.

Having left the ice planet behind after the successful elimination of a remote Separatist research centre, you're en route to Kamino once more. What's more, you have the cockpit all to yourself, and you sit with your knees up, head rested back, throat exposed, undone by the comfort of solitude as you allow yourself to lower your guard. It'd be peaceful on any other day.

But your mind is plagued by Tech's revelation.

Your rational side knows he must have made a mistake. After all, what's the chance of either of them liking you? And why would they? You're fighting together, and you're bleeding, and sweating, and trying, and maybe even dying together. But that's nothing more than what's expected of you, of each soldier of the GAR, clone or otherwise. You're coexisting now, but you could be reassigned at any moment really. You try to convince yourself that you wouldn't feel the change, that working with a squad other than the Bad Batch wouldn't chafe you terribly, but you see through your own lies.

Of course you'd hate it.

Where would you be without Tech's advice and sage-like aura? Without Wrecker's enthusiastic support? Without Crosshair correcting your stance when you shoot, without him always watching your six? Without Hunter's hand on your shoulder, saving you from dangerous situations, but also, and maybe most importantly, even from yourself?

It would be easy to answer those questions. But you don't have the power to do so now.

So you sit back, wishing for simpler times, times when your greatest worry was Bracca and thinking they hated you. You'd rather they hate you than... than what Tech said. Somehow the idea of either of them liking you in an unprofessional way, even remotely, sends your head spinning. It makes your throat constrict, it makes you feel unworthy and angry and confused beyond belief. The idea of both of them liking you at the same time - as outlandish as it sounds - just makes you absolutely lose your mind.

So you try not to think about them, you try not to think about Hunter's softness, and Crosshair's piercing gaze, and what it would be like to let them close to you. They already feel closer than what you're comfortable with. Maybe they are already closer than you know.

But they can't get any closer. You can't let them, and you promise yourself to shut them the fuck out. No, you don't deserve this, you don't deserve them fucking up whatever respect you've built up with the squad. And you don't have the right to mess up their friendship either. They belong with each other, all of them, and no matter how much you like calling them your boys inwardly, they'll never be yours. They'll always be a family, with or without you. And just who are you to tear it apart?

You try so hard to fit in, but it all seems too much, as if the four walls around you were pressing closer and closer until you suffocated, and you breathe in shakily, afraid of your doubts manifesting into anxiety.

But the slight tremor in your fingers is a telltale sign you can’t ignore. You are good at repressing emotions in the heat of battle, but you weren’t engineered to feel no stress. Nature formed you to thrive on it.

...

He's been awake ever since you refused to turn in and insisted on staying in the cockpit. Hyperspace en route to Kamino is the safest possible space travel for the squad, but he doesn't argue with you. At some point, Crosshair is up - he knows it's him from the very specific way his feet touch the ground. He skulks about the ship for a while before returning to bed. And then it's just you.

He's trying his very best to ignore you, he presses his pillow over his head and bites down on his lower lip so hard it almost draws blood. He hates the power you have over him, he hates how he can't have anything to himself anymore that isn't tainted by thoughts of you. And apparently, he can't even fucking sleep without knowing you're okay, calm, quiet, dozing off, hopefully dreaming about him.

But your next breath, it really sounds disturbed, almost gasping, and his heart clenches in his chest. He'd protect you from your very own thoughts too if he only knew how, but he grows shy whenever he sees an opportunity to really be there for you. All he ever wanted was to make you happy, and he doesn't know how it ended up like this, how his own happiness ended up being intertwined with yours so irreversibly. His own breathing grows a little more restless, chest rising and falling with your anxiety, throat tightening with your worry, mouth running dry with your confusion. And he'd take it all from you if he could, he'd drain you of all of your worries and pains if he knew you'd feel better.

He says he hates the power you have over him, but what he really hates is his inability to fight it.

He slips out of his bed, carefully and quietly to not wake the others, for once in his life grateful for Wrecker's loud snoring as it covers the sound of his footsteps on the metal flooring.

Before opening the door leading to the cockpit, he looks down at himself in his blacks, bandana abandoned with his gear back at the crew's quarters. He runs his fingers through his long curls in vain, fighting the urge to turn back and make himself more presentable, someone you could like. He's not doing this for himself, he scolds himself, but his insecurities keep buzzing in the back of his mind as he presses the button on the control panel and enters.

You've been crying.

The red rims around your eyes shatter his heart into a million pieces almost instantly, and he struggles to say anything for a second as you stare back at him wide eyed, startled. You're beautiful and sad and Hunter just wants to undo your pain any way he can. He'd be your collateral damage if you'd only let him.

"You should be resting," you say suddenly, the heels of your palms flying up to your tear streaked cheeks in a futile attempt to hide the fact that you've been crying. He wishes you wouldn't, he wishes you were comfortable with just being unapologetically yourself around him, sharing whatever sorrows and joys you had in your heart with him.

"I couldn't... You..."

"I'm fine." The little lie is so soft, almost like a caress against his cheek, a plea to let you wallow in your own misery. He'd never forgive himself for walking away now, and he can't understand why you want him to treat you so shitty.

"As your superior, I have a duty to make sure you're alright." He wants to wince when his words escape his mouth - he sounds so strict and stuck up and distant, and he wants to take it all back when a sour smile appears on your lips for a split second.

"I'm not crying as a soldier."

Hunter wills himself to sit, and forces himself to keep holding your gaze even though he wants to retreat. He's afraid, he's never been so close to breaking around you, but that damned shine in your bloodshot eyes doesn't let him back down. He knows he's already started down his road. Maybe it was time to commit to it.

"Well, I'm not asking as your sergeant then. I'm asking as your-"

"Friend?"

"I'm whatever you need me to be."

"I can't talk about it," you say after a short pause, looking away, leaving Hunter wonder whether that flush on your cheeks is because of him or not. He's disappointed you don't trust him, but he can't really be mad at you. He probably wouldn't trust himself in your place. And yet he can't stop yearning and wanting and tripping over his damn feet to make you feel better.

"That's okay. I'm still here, if you need me."

But maybe you don't need him, he thinks, his heart sinking, as he watches the colours of hyperspace reflect in your silent eyes. He stands, a hand stretching out towards you. He grabs the leather of your seat, digits sinking into it with helplessness before letting go completely, of the headrest, of your sadness, of you, and allows his own hell to swallow him up completely. He'll go back to his cot, and Wrecker snoring, and Tech mumbling in his sleep, and he'll listen to your misery in silence, suffering along mutely with every hitched, disturbed breath of yours. If that's how you want it to be, then he doesn't have the strength to change your mind.

You grab him in the corridor, catching him off-guard. He's always been off-centre around you, but so far it was only your retreats that unbalanced him. Your proximity is another intoxicating distraction, and for a moment, he feels like he can't move, he can't swallow, he can't reach out to touch you.

But you're hugging him, and how could he not return it?

Change comes slowly for him. First, it's his fingers that find your hair, and they tangle themselves in it at the nape of your neck tentatively. Your face is turned away from him, but your cheek is pressed firmly against his shoulder, and your arms have him locked in a tight hug, your ice cold fingertips seeping in his own heat. Hunter can't think straight, but he knows he's your lifeline now, and he slowly warms up, and tightens his embrace around you, and eventually holds you as if the world was ending, and you seem to need it. If only he could make your problems disappear simply by squeezing you against himself tightly enough.

It's unprofessional, so unprofessional, and yet nothing felt more natural to him than you in his arms, his nerve endings singing with the joy of your proximity. Now that he knows how sweet having you this close can truly be, he doesn't know how he's ever going to go entire days without your embrace. As if he needed anything else to prevent him from sleeping peacefully. He doesn't think he's slept well ever since you joined his team, and he doesn't seem to find it in his heart to regret it. It's bad, and destructive, and unhealthy, but it's also out of control, and Hunter promises himself not to stand in its way anymore.

No more swimming against the tide.

He just wishes, so desperately wishes he didn't have to hurt Crosshair in the process.

...

Fucking hell, he knew it'd hurt, he knew it'd come, inevitable and destructive like a tsunami, but he never actually believed it would be this bad, this paralysing. He hates it, he just wants it all to stop, he just wants to get out. But loving you doesn't seem to have an exit, and just like with breathing, the only way he'll stop doing it is when he dies.

But what's even worse than all the repressed anger and helplessness and loneliness is the hope, small and fragile but blinking steadfastly amidst the darkness of his feelings. The hope that - despite you being in Hunter's arms right now - somehow you'll still end up falling in love with him. It's false hope, Crosshair knows, but he just can't help holding onto it like a fucking lifeline.

He leans his head against the doorframe for a second, dizzy and momentarily overcome with sickness. Then he turns and lays down, curling up alone. Crosshair can't watch another second of this, of Hunter acting out all his forbidden fantasies until there's nothing left for him anymore.

He squeezes his eyes shut, but all he sees is Hunter's fingers tangled in your hair.

Part 3

You glance sideways, head propped up on your hands. He's surveying the street once more through the scope of his rifle. You consider yourself a rational person, someone who's not gross and would never violate any lines of decency, but there's something so unbelievably attractive about Crosshair as he aims his sniper rifle that you have a hard time restraining yourself from staring too much. Well, maybe you're willing to cross a few lines for him, but what the hell.

This stakeout is lengthy and has you stretched a little too thin anyways. Might as well pass the time with something.

Crosshair seems bored as well, more restless than usual. He lowers his gun and slings it over his shoulder, and you observe his lazy but meticulous movements, hoping to catch his attention before the silence drives you absolutely crazy. He comes to sit beside you on the rooftop as you watch the busy streets below you. You both know the rhythm of this place by heart now. First, there's a great bustling crowd in the late afternoon, mostly the poor workers of the adjacent factory fighting their way over to the beaten up shuttlebus station, and the merchants packing up shop and going home, leaving their stalls behind for the night. Then there are a few odd stragglers later, mostly seeking out the cheap watering hole on the other end of the street. And then around midnight, your separatist spy would finally show up to drop off his intel in the form of old, harmless looking datacards in a seemingly abandoned alley that ends in a cul-de-sac.

And then of course you'd alert the squad before the intel was retrieved, and Tech would make copies and start tracing the spy's sources, while Hunter would inform Commander Cody about the developments. Because there's a war on the other side of the planet that your information can help win, and while things look sad and boring here, at least this dusty city hasn't been bombed into oblivion yet.

"I can't wait to finally get the jump on this guy."

"Tech says we ought to wait a few more days," you remind Crosshair as you stretch your feet out in front of you.

"We're wasting our time here. There's a battle to be won on this very planet. So why are we stuck with this boring job?"

"Don't you like spending time with me?" you tease him, but you're scared of his answer, so you don't give him enough time to respond. "This is important. We're saving lives, Cross."

He bristles at the nickname, but nods reluctantly in the end. You hope it's the job he can't stand, and not you, because deep down you like this, you like not being shot at, you like having the upper hand, you like spending time with Crosshair, away from Hunter's suffocating lingering heavy with expectations posed towards you. You're none the wiser since you had that conversation with Tech some time ago, but you're all the more confused, and you're trying even harder to get back to how things were before. So maybe taking a page from Crosshair’s book and outright ignoring Hunter wasn’t the smartest idea, but you don’t have a better one yet.

"And who's going to save us before we die of boredom?"

From somewhere he produces a cigarette, and he flicks his toothpick off the roof before placing it between his lips. You raise your eyebrows, and he catches your eyes and smirks. He knows you've been trying to beat your own addiction, he knows how Hunter fucking hates the smell of smoke lingering about you, and maybe at this point he's only doing this to spite him, but he lights it, takes a drag and offers it to you.

"I really shouldn't," you wince, your rekindled craving suddenly running rampant in your veins. "I've been off it for a few months now."

"I've only got the one. But suit yourself," he shrugs, and takes another drag, smoke curling past his parted lips so enticingly that you lean closer involuntarily.

"I can't let you ruin your lungs alone." You break, and extend your hand. He chuckles, his fingers brushing against yours as he passes you the lit cigarette. You inhale the smoke, and you remember why you used to be so hung up on this shit as the nicotine soaks in your blood. Then you look at Crosshair, sweet and angry and oh so bitter Crosshair, and you soak him in too, unsurprised when he triggers the same reaction in you as nicotine does.

You remember why you used to be so hung up on him and you swallow hard, because all you can think about is what Hunter would say if he knew.

...

"I think I'm getting some sleep."

"Knock yourself out."

"I don't get how you're not tired."

"I am." If only you knew just how tired he really is, with all the pretending he has to do, with all the looking away whenever Hunter is by your side, hands drawn to you as if you were magnetic. But you are magnetic, you fucking are, he knows, he has a hard enough time to tear his gaze away from you constantly. He dreads to even think of what it would be like to have to keep his hands away from you too. He'd probably go mad.

That's why he never touches you, he avoids you, he withdraws like the losing party he is.

"Well, spyboy has already made his appearance tonight. It wouldn't be characteristic of him to come back again," you shrug. “Maybe we could both turn in for the night.”

"You really don't understand the concept of a stakeout, do you?" A snort and an adjustment to his posture later he's back to being mean to you because he needs to reinforce those walls he's pulling up between you. He'll be as cold as ice and you will burn your fingers and pull back and never come close to him again. Or at least that's the plan, he can't account for all times he's slipped out, all the times you made him laugh, made his heart race, made him wish he was more bite than bark with you. "There's a reason why we need two people here, remember? Someone needs to watch the street while I'm resting. Otherwise it'd be pretty difficult for me to do my job properly."

You take the bait so easily, and the pout and the crossed arms almost makes him smile. "Oh, so that's all I am here? Your backup? Your sidekick? Number two?"

"Pretty much." It clearly hurts you, but you deserve it a little. After all, he's your number two as well.

"It's such a joy working together with you."

Satisfied, Crosshair turns back to the street, ignoring the ache in his heart. He goes against his own wishes, but he's always taken care of himself, and he knows what's best for him. And pining after you like a lovesick cadet is not it, he can do so much better than that. You'll go now, probably pick a spot on the roof that is far away from him, you'll curl up on your mat and fall asleep, angry with him for the rest of the night.

But damn you, you're probably right, and the spy's not coming back again.

When you sit next to him, he's blinking in confusion, blank, nothing witty coming to mind. You sigh, annoyed but already letting it all go. Your elbows are touching, and he's too afraid to move.

"Do you have another cigarette?"

"You think I was lying when I said I only had the one?"

"Yeah. I think you were planning on waiting for me to fall asleep and then smoke them all alone."

"Smart girl."

The praise awakens something feral and primal in you, but Crosshair is too busy fishing out his pack of smokes to see it. You're sitting under the stars soon, ducking behind the half wall to hide the burning tips of your cigarettes, arms pressed together as you lean into his side more. You flick the ash off absentmindedly, and he watches your fingers, knowing he couldn't possibly look into your eyes now without feeling things he shouldn't feel.

"I don't mind being your sidekick."

And there you go again, fucking up his plans once more as he has nothing smart to say. He just sits, and smokes, and ignores the drumming of his heart in his ears as he focuses on you being so close to him. Just one last slip-up, and he'll do better tomorrow, he'll chase you off, he'll make you fucking hate him. But tonight is his, selfish or not. Tonight he will steal from Hunter, and then he'll never insert himself into your life again.

By the time you've put yours out, he's already lighting a second cigarette, and you blink slowly, exhaustion creeping up on you. Crosshair is about to shove you, about to tell you to fuck off finally and get some sleep, but then you put your head on his shoulder and he shuts up.

He's too scared to move, to ruin this moment. Tomorrow, tomorrow he'll stay true to himself, but tonight, he'll stay true to you.

...

"They've missed their check-in."

"Actually, they haven't. Crosshair gave me a status update not long ago. Looks like it’s all quiet - we won’t be seeing more of our spy tonight.”

While Tech is busy tracing the origins of the spy’s latest intel, Hunter paces up and down the abandoned cellar they established as their momentary camp. This temporary imprisonment has them all restless and stupid and twitchy, and he blames his own jumpy nature on being so understimulated. Listening to nothing but Tech’s datapad and Wrecker’s whining all day in the dark and damp confinement of these four walls is enough to drive him positively mad.

It has nothing to do with not seeing you or hearing your voice for days on end, no. Nothing to do with not catching a whiff of your scent in the mouldy air underground. Nothing to do with knowing you’re up on a rooftop, exposed, with no other than Crosshair.

Hunter trusts him to keep you safe. But he’s being irrational and jealous even though it is totally unwarranted.

Because he loves you.

It was a hard labour, to give birth to that internal confession, but he’s never felt so relieved ever since he’s done it. He finally has a name to put to all the yearning and pain and hope he’s harboured for seemingly endless months. But you’re not ready, he knows that. And maybe he isn’t ready to say those words out aloud either, and yet he knows the day will come. Because in the corridor of the Marauder those few weeks ago, while the rest of the ship slumbered, the two of you shared a moment that meant something.

You’ve been careful not to repeat it again, and he’s respected your wish, but he sees the way you look at him. Sees the purposefulness in your avoidance of him. Hell, he can practically smell your confusion. So he backs up as much as he can to give you the much needed time and space to hopefully figure out how him wanting to be close to you makes you feel.

But he likes to keep an eye on you nonetheless, not necessarily just to keep you safe, but also for that. And allowing you to tag along with Crosshair on a stakeout doesn’t exactly help him do that.

So he paces, dragging along his love for you with every step, ignoring his festering jealousy. Crosshair doesn’t even seem to like you anymore, he’s been vocal about it lately too, so there’s nothing to worry about. Despite it being an irrational fear, he still dreads leaving you alone with him, but he won’t have it. He knows you and his brother better than this. He knows. It’s just his mind playing tricks on him.

And as Hunter paces, Tech occasionally glances up to check on his sergeant, his friend, heart heavy with worry not just for him, or you, or Crosshair, but for the future of the whole squad in general.

#dottiechan writes #hunter x reader x crosshair #hunter x reader #crosshair x reader #the bad batch #the bad batch x you #the bad batch x reader #tbb x reader #tbb x you #crosshair #tbb hunter #tbb fanfiction #star wars

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twices-pup · 3 years

Text

Hiraeth

title : hiraeth ( minatozaki sana x fem reader )

word count : 1,592 words

genre : angst

warnings : single mention of alcohol

synopsis : hiraeth (n) - a homesickness for a home you can’t return to, or that never was. ( non-idol au )

side note : i didn’t expect myself to post another fic so soon, but the idea for this came to me at like, almost 1 in the morning and i was able to finish it soon after i woke up, so i thought, “hey, why not post this?” things have been a little rough in my personal life lately, so i guess you can say this is sort of a vent fic? so it might be a little messy, and it got longer than i intended it to be, but i hope y’all enjoy my 1 am emo thoughts :)

You hated this city.

You hated that every time you left your house, you're bound to see something that would remind you of her. You hated that the people around you still asked you about her. You hated that she was only a five minute-drive away from you, yet you weren't able to go see her, no matter how much your heart ached for you to.

You hated this city, but this city was where you were born and grew up in, where your family and friends were, where you had met her. This city—with its roads full of traffic, its bustling streets, and its busy people—was all that you ever knew, so you couldn't just up and leave. Even if every street and corner held painful memories of her.

You used to think that this city was your home, but that was until you had met her, during your freshman year of high school. She was charming in her own way, and had a smile so dazzling you nearly mistook it for a ray of sunshine. When she turned to you, and your eyes met for the first time, you knew right then that your life was never going to be the same again. All because of her.

You had remembered reading somewhere that home wasn't necessarily a place; it could also be a person, a pair of arms that you knew you belonged in.

The closer you got with her, the more it felt like you and her were like two puzzle pieces meant to fit together perfectly. Anything and everything she said or did, even something as trivial as putting a hand on your shoulder, was able to fill you with a sense of warmth and comfort. Soon she became all that you thought about, all that you sought for when you felt lost.

Soon she became your home.

Or at least, that was what you thought.

It wasn't long before you two were practically attached by the hip, and everyone who knew either one of you would know that. Where one of you were, the other wouldn't be far behind, and the fact that she lived just a neighborhood away from you helped. It was really easy for the two of you see to each other; at first you thought of it as a convenience, but time threatened to prove you otherwise.

You didn't know what came over you when you had let the words slip past your lips. You weren't drunk, you swore you never had anything to drink prior to the incident that night. So perhaps it was the heat of the moment, just the two of you sitting on top of a hill overlooking the city, and you ended up getting intoxicated by her instead of alcohol. The light pollution was so bad, there was barely a single star visible in the night sky. The view of the city after dark, however, was almost enough to make up for the lack of starlight. It was beautiful.

She was beautiful.

Hair messy, eyes soft, lips slightly chapped, your jacket draped over her shoulders. No matter how she looked, no matter what she wore, she was never anything less than beautiful in your eyes. Added with the romantic atmosphere, had you lacked self control you would've kissed her then and there.

Thankfully though, you were still able to control your actions. But as your heart raced while you stared at her, it was a lot less easier to control your words.

"I love you."

She diverted her attention from the view to look at you, eyes wide with surprise. A silence enveloped you two once more, one that felt heavier and far less comfortable than the silence before you had uttered those three words. You watched her shift awkwardly, and suddenly you became much more aware of the cold night air biting at the bare skin of your arms and neck. Where had the warmth and comfort gone?

"I love you too, y/n," Sana said carefully. You perked up at her response, feeling a wave of relief and even joy wash over you, but it was short-lived as she continued speaking before you had the chance to interrupt her. "You're my best friend, after all."

You felt your heart sink. Had she really not understood what you meant? Or was she pretending to?

"N-No, Sana," you began, frowning. "That...That's not what I meant. Not just in that way."

To this day, you regretted ever correcting her.

Another silence ensued, this one more agonizing than the last. Your heart was racing, but not in a good way, not in the way she normally made your heart palpitate. Your eyes trained on her every movement, as she avoided your eyes and brought up a hand to rub the back of her neck.

"We...We should head back."

You didn't know what else to say or do, other than agree and walk her back to her house. The walk was, as expected, terribly awkward, neither of you saying anything throughout, and you realized that that was the first time there was any awkwardness between the two of you. You hated the feeling.

Once you reached the front of her house, she turned to you, took your jacket off, and put it on you instead. However, she still refused to meet your eyes that were practically boring holes into her. As she adjusted your jacket, she spoke, ever so softly, "You're my best friend, y/n, you really are. And...And that's all you are to me. Nothing less, nothing more."

Her words were like an arrow through your heart. Not Cupid's arrow, the one that made you feel all lovestruck and giddy, but an actual piercing arrow aimed to kill you. You stared at her blankly, searching her expression for any kind of solace.

She did offer you one, a soft smile, meant to be reassuring and comforting, but you felt neither. "I'm sorry," she continued. "You're an amazing girl y/n, I know you'll be able to find someone else. So I hope this won't change anything between us." She pulled you into a hug, and you wanted to return it had your arms not felt glued to your side, before she pulled away and walked up to her front door. Before she disappeared behind it, she shot you another smile.

Her smile was definitely not telling you that things weren't going to change.

You didn't cry then. You didn't cry on your walk back to your own place. But the second your bedroom door shut behind you, and you were met with your dark, cold bedroom, the world came collapsing down on you. You sank to your floor, and you finally let your tears out.

You didn't see her for the next couple of weeks. You avoided her at school, and refused to hang out with her after school hours. You told yourself that it was what was best for you, some time alone to grieve. But weeks turned into months, yet neither of you dared to talk to one another.

Once you did decide to make the first move, she ignored you as if you weren't right there in front of her, as if you were invisible, as if you didn't exist. She simply brushed past you while talking to a couple of other girls, and she looked...happy. After what had happened between the two of you, she was able to be happy. You could do nothing but watch as she walked further and further away from you.

When you reached your house that day, you received a text on your phone.

"Let's not waste our time fixing something that's already broken"

You felt your heart break for the millionth time since the night of your confession. She had given up on you, on your once seemingly unbreakable friendship. You couldn't blame her, though; she didn't feel the same way you did and there was nothing she could do to force herself to love you back, but even with this knowledge you ghosted her for months, as if she had conducted the biggest sin the world had ever seen. If you were in her shoes, you knew that you'd be exhausted too.

She had given up on you, and you put the blame entirely on yourself.

As you flopped down onto your bed and let your tears flow, you recalled coming across a list of beautiful words from multiple different languages once, beautiful words with even more beautiful meanings. One of them was hiraeth.

Hiraeth.

You finally understood what it meant, how it felt.

She was your home, a home you could never return to, a home that never was.

+ + +

As you drove past her neighborhood on your way to get groceries, you looked out your car window, and saw her. Your houses weren't that far, and the city wasn't that big, so it wasn't your first time coming across her by chance over the years.

But this time she walked down the street, a wide smile plastered on her face and her hand in that of another woman. The other woman was saying something, and it made her laugh. That was the happiest you had ever seen her look.

You took in a deep breath as you turned your head back to keep your eyes on the road ahead, your grip on the steering wheel tightening.

You hated this city, but it was your home. The only one you've ever known, and will ever know.

. . .

please do not repost my work, whether on tumblr or on any other site.

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