#this is a mixture of plots i find personally grating and plots i enjoyed but have gotten a lot of backlash in various fan spaces | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hqbbg · 3 years

Text

big and bad pt. 2

pairing: matsukawa issei x f!reader

summary: the woods are a dark place.

genre: fantasy

word count: 2.9K

warnings: 18+, dubcon in the beginning, oral (m. receiving), vaginal s3cs, slight size kink, breeding

author’s note: here’s part 2 of my HQHQ server collab! i recommend reading part one so you have plot because otherwise this is just,, pwp LOL anyways, hope you guys enjoy!

part one.

A soft whimper slips past your trembling lips as you feel calloused fingertips slowly trail down the side of your face.

“I already told you, sweetheart: I don’t bite. That is, unless you want me to.” Issei’s lips pull back into a devious grin and you feel your breath hitch. His large hand moves towards your throat and for a moment, you think he’s about to wrap it around but instead continues its trek downwards to follow the line of your collarbone.

“Stop,” you say, but your voice comes out barely above a whisper.

“Hm? I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that,” he teases as his hand moves closer to the slope of your breast. His elbow is still resting against the tree above your head, supporting a majority of his weight.

“I said, stop,” you repeat yourself, trying to raise your voice. Your hands are shaking at your sides, balled into small fists. You hesitate for a second before lifting them to push him away. He uses the hand that had been hovering your chest to grab your wrists, pinning them above your head.

“Is that how you wanna play?”

You shake your head, struggling to move your arms. The bark of the tree scratches against your skin, though a splinter is not at the top of your list of current concerns.

“Let me go,” you say, trying your best to sound assertive. Hardening your gaze, you try to glare up at him, but he only looks back down at you in amusement.

“What if I don’t want to?” He leans in again and hovers his lips above yours once more.

You open your mouth, but can’t find the words within yourself to respond. He shifts his weight so your wrists are still pinned above your head with one hand while he frees the other one to hold your chin up.

Before you can process what’s happening, he presses his lips against yours and pushes his tongue into your mouth. Another whimper bubbles in your throat and you try to free your wrists, though Issei has no intentions of letting you go.

As he continues his exploration within your mouth, you find yourself responding and feel his lips curve upwards against yours. You’re right where he wants you.

He drops his hand from your chin and moves it back to your breasts, meeting much less resistance than the first time. You hum a soft moan when you feel him give the clothed flesh a firm squeeze, using his thumb to brush over the hardening bud of your nipple.

When he pulls his lips away, you’re breathless and panting, unable to help but lean your head back against the tree behind you for support. Issei begins to kiss his way down your jaw to your neck, leaving a messy trail until he finds the one spot that makes your knees weak. Biting your lip to hold back the moans threatening to slip, you try to turn your head but only give him more access to the newly exposed skin.

“There’s no one out here but us, sweetheart,” he hums against your neck. The deep timbre of his voice sends a shiver down your spine and heat straight between your legs. “You can be as loud as you want and no one will hear you.”

You don’t miss the underlying threat, a reminder that you’re trapped and no one will be coming to save you from this.

Too consumed in your own helpless and pitying thoughts, you don’t even realize that Issei’s hand has already traveled further down between your legs until he presses a thick finger against your core.

“Enjoying ourselves, are we?” He pulls back to look at you. You look back up at him, trying hard to suppress any noise trying to fruition in the thick silence around you. However, your efforts are for naught when he presses his finger harder up against your clothed heat, applying pressure as he drags it back towards him.

“Please,” you whimper, unsure of whether you’re begging him to continue or stop. Despite your mind’s blaring alarm, you feel yourself arching your back to press harder against him.

“Someone’s eager,” he says with a teasing lilt to his voice. He brings his finger up and runs it along your bottom lip before shoving the digit into your mouth.

Well, that’s unexpected.

“It’s not going to suck itself,” he says. Your eyes widen slightly as you look at him, meeting his half-lidded, expectant gaze. After another moment, you slowly close your lips around him and swirl your tongue, keeping your eyes locked on his.

He watches you, licking his lips with a dark glint in his eyes. You feel him slowly begin to pull his finger out, only to shove it back into the warmth of your mouth. He hums in approval as he repeats his actions until he seems to get bored. He pulls his finger completely out with a ‘pop!’ and you feel the embarrassment heat your cheeks.

Without giving you much time to dwell on it, he dips his head back down to capture your lips with his own. You respond quickly and continue to press yourself against him as much as you can, ignoring the burn that’s beginning to permeate the muscles of your suspended arms above your head.

Issei takes this time to fumble with your pants, unbuttoning them so he can shove his large hand under the fabric and cup your drooling sex. You gasp and can hardly control your moans when he teases the slit with a calloused finger, dipping it in shallowly to collect some of your essence. With the mixture of your saliva and slick, his fingers squelch as they easily slip in and out of you.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he says against your lips as he continues to maintain a slow and steady pace. At this moment, you want nothing more than to lower your arms and weave your fingers through his hair, put your hands on his broad shoulders for support; anything that’ll keep you grounded.

Your thoughts are interrupted when he begins to pump his fingers faster, effectively stretching you and causing your knees to buckle. In that moment, you’re glad your wrists are being held up because otherwise, you’d be a heap on the forest floor.

“Oh, wait, there was something you wanted from me,” says Issei, pulling his lips away as he slows back down, denying you of the pleasure you find yourself yearning for. Your hands are balled into fists as you try to roll your hips, desperate for more friction.

“Please, Issei,” your voice comes out broken, nearly startling yourself at the dripping desperation. “Stop teasing me.”

“Oh, you want me to stop?” He smirks and you don’t like the coy tone of his voice. Before you can correct yourself, he withdraws his hand completely. He lifts it up between your faces and lazily examines how his fingers glisten under the dim moonlight before looking you in the eyes. “That’s right, you wanted to get out of here, didn’t you?”

You begin to shake your head as you watch him lazily lick his fingers, humming softly at the taste of you on his tongue.

“What a shame,” he says, “but I guess it can’t be helped. If you really want to get out of here, I can lead the way.”

He straightens himself up and you realize just how tall and large he is in comparison to your small frame. He releases your wrists and your arms drop back down to your sides, the blood rushing back all at once to make your fingers tingle. He raises a brow at you, the corner of his lips still tugged upwards, watching you for your next move.

All rational thought seems to flee your mind and you can hardly control your body when you reach for his shirt, pulling him down to kiss him again. He senses your state of hunger and matches your energy, now using both hands to explore your body.

Your hands loosen their grip on his now-wrinkled shirt, sliding down towards the waistband of his pants. When your fingers accidentally graze the tent he’s pitched, you gasp. There’s no way he’s that big.

Issei hardly seems deterred, simply kissing your neck again, though this time is sure to leave marks. Meanwhile, you make quick work to unbutton his pants and tug them down. His thick cock springs to life and you bite your lip in anticipation of what’s to come. Okay, so maybe he is that big.

You lift your hand up to nudge him away from his relentless attack on your neck, using the other one to wrap around his length as much as you can. He pulls away slightly and watches you as you bite your lip in hesitation. You can hardly meet his eyes as you begin to stroke him up and down, using your thumb to spread the leaking precum.

Though his face remains neutral, you hear his breath hitch and feel encouraged to continue. After several more generous strokes, you sink down onto your knees, grateful that you chose to wear long pants that gave your knees some kind of coverage from the coarse and rigid branches littering the ground.

Licking your lips, you take a deep breath. You’re intimidated by his size to say the least, but you’ve come this far and all sense of rational thought is practically out the window. You readjust your grip around him and give the bulbous head a couple experimental kitten licks.

“Fuck,” Issei hisses under his breath as he keeps his eyes focused on you and the way your lips begin to wrap around him.

Similarly to how you’d done with his finger, you swirl your tongue around for a moment before dragging your tongue along the underside of his cock. When you return back to the tip, you decide to take as much of him as you can in your throat, which isn’t as much as you’d personally like it to be.

Slowly but surely, you begin to bob your head and try to take more of him each time you press yourself forward, fighting the urge to gag every time he goes a little too deep. You use one hand to stroke what doesn’t fit in your mouth while the other massages his balls, earning a deep and guttural moan from him.

“That’s it, sweetheart. You’re doing so well,” he coos, using a hand to weave through your hair. When you move to pull away for air, he holds you there and begins to thrust his hips in a shallow pace.

You look up at him with tears beginning to sting your eyes, lungs burning in a silent cry for air. You can feel him hit the back of your throat several times, having to grip his thighs to keep yourself stable and balanced as he continues to fuck into your mouth. Your jaw is beginning to grow sore and you feel lightheaded from the restricted amounts of oxygen you’re given.

When you try to pull away again, he uses both hands to keep you there for a moment and gives one last deep thrust before you tear off of him, coughing and sputtering for air. He watches you with half lidded eyes and a smirk before offering a hand to help you stand. You go ahead and take it, though you’re very aware of the fact that you’d been unable to get him off.

“You could barely handle me in your throat. Do you really think you’ll be able to handle me between your legs in that tight cunt of yours?” Issei raises a brow as he watches you struggle to take off your pants.

“I’m sure you’d like to see me try,” you grumble, though it sounds loud and clear. Issei chuckles darkly as you finally let your pants fall to the ground, stepping out of them. You fail to notice the darker change in his demeanor, as if a switch inside of him has been flipped.

“You’re right about one thing,” he says as he places his hands on your hips. You think he’s about to go in for another kiss, so you’re surprised when he spins you around and pushes your back downwards so you’re bent over for him. “So, let’s see you try.”

A shiver runs down your spine, though you aren’t given much time to think it over as he rubs the tip of his cock between your slick folds. You’re practically dripping for him, clenching around nothing in anticipation. You whimper and reach out, leaning slightly on the tree in front of you.

In the next moment, you’re glad you have some type of support as Issei pushes himself all the way in, effectively stretching you and ripping a loud moan from your throat. You squeeze your eyes shut as he generously gives you a few moments to adjust.

“You’re so tight, sweetheart,” he says, though his voice sounds slightly strained, as if he’s holding back his own moans.

You say nothing in response, simply opting to focus on relaxing your core so that Issei can bottom out within you. When you finally do, he’s quick to continue to push through. Your hands ball into fists as your lips tremble, trying to adjust to him as he goes. When he finally bottoms out, you can feel him practically kissing your cervix, buried so deep inside of you.

“I-Issei, please,” you whimper, trying to turn your head to look back at him.

He humphs in amusement as his hands grip your hips firmly. You expect him to say something, but he simply begins to pull out. Just before his cock completely slips out, he shoves his full length back in and another cry is torn from you as you face forward.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” Issei grunts as he snaps his hips repeatedly against yours in slow, deep thrusts. “You just want me to fuck you like the dirty little whore you are, right?”

You can’t find the words to respond, hanging your head as you continue to moan at the view of his cock visibly stretching you. That doesn’t last for long, however, as you feel him grab a handful of your hair and yank hard, forcing you to arch your back. You wince at the sting, though the sensation of pleasure quickly overrides it.

He pulls you further back so you’re pressed up against his chest, allowing him easy access to use his free hand to reach around to begin rubbing your clit. You clench around him, earning a moan from him as he begins to pick up his pace. You lift your own arm and reach behind you, cupping the side of Issei’s face. You turn your head and press your lips against his, feeling yourself unraveling rather quickly.

“I’m close,” you mumble against him, feeling your knees begin to weaken.

In a few swift and fluid movements, you feel Issei pull out completely and you whine at the loss of contact, having been so close to your orgasm. He doesn’t leave you empty for long, simply turning you around and grabbing one of your legs, hooking his arm under it to keep it lifted. You lean up against the tree, watching as he grips the base of his glistening cock before he teases your entrance again.

“Issei,” you whine, growing impatient. “Fuck me.”

The smirk on his face should irk you, but you’re too focused on your own selfish sensation, begging to be filled again. Without sparing you a response, he sheathes himself inside of you and the new angle has him hitting a new spot within your velvet walls.

Your jaw goes slack as he begins a brutal pace, using his thumb to rub your clit in harsh circles. He finds that spongy spot inside of you, your eyes practically rolling to the back of your head. Gauging your reaction, Issei understands and continues his ministrations to reach the same spot as best he can until you’re clenching down on him and let out a cry of pure ecstasy.

Everything around you seems to flash white and you continue to spasm around him, muscles tensing and toes curling. You feel exhausted already, but what remaining energy you have is being depleted rather quickly; you don’t even have it in you to question what’s happening. Issei doesn’t seem to notice and if he does, he doesn’t show it.

“Fuck,” he grunts lowly as he feels himself hurling towards his own climax.

The last thing you remember is the warm feeling of his seed spilling inside of you until everything goes dark and your body falls limp in his arms.

When you wake, you find yourself in your bedroom. Memories of the events within the forest come flooding back and you jolt up, confused. You look down and see that you’re half naked. Maybe you just got hot in the middle of the night?

Unless everything was just a dream. A surreal, vivid dream.

You tell yourself that and feel only slightly put at ease until you hear a noise from the hall outside your bedroom door. After a moment, the door opens and you feel your blood run cold as you meet familiar gold eyes.

So many questions begin to flood your mind, but only one that passes your lips, “What are you doing here?”

Issei smirks as he walks over to the bed, crawling over you.

“You didn’t think I was done with you, did you, sweetheart?”

#haikyuu #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa issei #haikyuu smut #haikyuu!!#matsukawa x y/n #mattsun #matsukawa issei x you #mattsun x reader #hrnybbg

405 notes · View notes

katrina765 · 3 years

Text

++++

summary: you and reggie have always been good friends. being the manager for sunset curve had its perks, one of which included growing close to all the boys. one night reggie lets his feelings for you slip. how will you react?

song: testify

pairings: reggie x reader[platonic] maybe;)

words: 3.3k

warnings: mentions of alcohol, drinking, swearing, angst, pining, fluff towards the end

a/n: i’m sorry this took so long. i’ve been super busy with school and my motivation hasn’t been the best, but we made it! finally finished testify, so enjoy:) [for plot purposes we’re saying y/n lives in bobby’s house and owns the studio-garage]

++++

he’s lying awake trying to contemplate what this all means. he’s known how he’s felt for so long and yet he can never find the right words to say to you. you always manage to steal his breath away by barely doing anything. you walk into a room, his face lights up and suddenly his palms are sweaty. he’s amazed with the way you speak. it’s as if silk were a sound and it were projecting from your lips.

your lips.

what he’d do just to get a taste, a feel. the poor boy has dreamt of the way they’d fit perfectly against his. he’d imagine the way you’d move in sync with him. it all felt so real and yet he knew if he never built up the courage to talk to you, he wouldn’t get the chance to make those dreams realities.

++++

“luke!” you called, crossing the cramped studio towards the lead singer. he was shouting over the music to a girl who practically clung to his arm. you watched as she batted her eyelashes and took another sip from her red solo cup. “luke!”

you reached the pair, earning a pointed glare from the petite girl. luke hesitantly looked at you, guilt already painting his features.

“can i help you, sweetheart?” she took a step forward, clearly bothered that you interrupted her conversation.

“find someone else to bother, babe.” you roughly grabbed luke’s hand, leading him towards a less crowded area. he gave the girl an apologetic wave before she stormed off towards the drinks table.

“she was really pretty, y/n.” luke groaned, tossing his cup into a nearby bin.

“luke, you said this was only going to be a few people! do you know how big of a mess i’m going to have to clean up? my parents are going to be up my ass when they come home!”

“calm down, y/l/n. have a little fun, get a little drunk! the boys and i will help clean up. scouts honor!”

“you were never a scout- you know what? fine! this is yours to deal with. i may be your official manager, but i’m not your babysitter! have fun with this one, patterson.” and with that you made your way over to a cooler, pulling out a bottle of some fruity drink.

reggie spotted you from a few feet away, his beer abandoned in a corner of the studio. it wasn’t his fault you stole the show wherever you went- even if he was the only one in the audience. his eyes were glued to you and that was how it was. you were completely oblivious to his infatuation with you. that’s how it’s been for years.

the boy watched as you made your way over to alex. he ogled at the way your lips met the rim of the glass bottle, delicately sipping at the liquid.

as you approached the boy in the pink hoodie, his eyes traveled far behind you. they met reggie’s, catching his stare. alex smirked knowingly and nodded to his band mate. reggie hesitated slightly before walking away to grab another beer.

a little liquid luck never hurt anybody. right?

“hey, alex.” you greeted, tilting the bottle back once more. “i thought you weren’t a ‘party person’.”

“i’m not.” he scratched the back of his neck, glancing around the room again.

the studio wasn’t terribly big. normally there was room for your piano, the band’s gear, and a couple couches. sure there was an empty area and a loft, but you never intended to have more than ten people in it at once.

luke’s “small gathering” had turned into a large house party and your poor studio had people so close, they were bumping shoulders. cups were tipped on the floor, bottles strewn about, your mother’s plants pushed to one corner, speakers in the middle of the room blaring some jumbled rock song.

a mess.

“i really only came for luke. he said it was gonna be fun, but i wasn’t expecting so many people.” alex leaned down so you would be able to hear him better.

“yeah.” you rolled your eyes, recalling the conversation you just had with the guitarist. “didn’t really give any of us a heads up. do you wanna-”

a loud crash from across the studio cut you off. in the direction of it, a mixture of cheers and laughs erupted.

with a groan of frustration, you politely excused yourself from the drummer. he flashed you a sympathetic smile as you downed the rest of your drink and walked off.

“hey, man!” reggie took your place next to alex, keeping his eyes on you as he spoke to his bandmate.

alex waved a hand in front of reggie’s face, snapping his fingers a couple times. he chuckled once the bassist finally looked up at him with reddening cheeks.

“if you didn’t want to talk to me, you could have just said so.” alex laughed.

“no- no, i’m sorry.” reggie cleared his throat, taking another sip from his bottle, before continuing. “just a little...”

“distracted?” the boy in the flannel nodded sheepishly. “dude, you have to tell her.”

“you know i can’t do that.”

“why not? everyone sees the way you look at her! it’s better to tell her than to keep it to yourself for another three years.”

reggie took a deep breath. his eyes scanned the crowd in search of you. he watched as you shooed people away from a broken vase- one of your mother’s. you delicately picked up shards of glass, careful not to cut yourself.

“i just don’t want to ruin things with her.” the boy finally exhaled.

“well then at least go help her clean up.” alex’s eyes glimmered with a hint of mischief as he shoved his bandmate in your direction.

reggie stumbled towards you, instinctively smoothing out his jacket. your eyes lit up when the boy reached you. he offered his help and even after you insisted this was your mess to clean up, he stayed and helped you sweep. it was sweet; the gesture. to you it was just a friend helping another friend, but to him, every lingering touch sent a million questions to his mind; was that on purpose? why is she looking at me like that? does she feel the same?

to any onlookers, they’d see the way his cheeks flushed each time your hands accidentally brushed or when you moved to sweep a fallen strand of hair out of your face. reggie was infatuated by you and everyone saw it except you.

“thanks again, reg.” a smile stretched across your face as you tossed the last shards of glass into the bin. reggie had just walked back outside to you with two drinks in his hands; the same fruity drink you had earlier and another beer. “how’d you know these are my favorite?”

“had a hunch.” his cheeks were tinged that familiar pink color, grateful the darkness was there to hide it from your view.

“we should probably get back in there before something else breaks, huh?” you tipped the bottle back, taking another long sip from the sweet drink. as much as you hated the feeling of being drunk and what was to come after, you needed all the liquid courage this bottle had to offer.

reggie tilted his own bottle back, mind racing with a thousand thoughts, but only one that really stood out. for him, it was now or never. the atmosphere was right, there were no distractions- if he didn’t do it now, he’d be kicking himself forever.

i’m losing control now that the alcohol hits my blood flow.

“y/n?” you turned around, walking back towards the bassist.

“everything alright, reggie?” you placed a hand on his shoulder. concern evident in your eyes as you looked up at the flustered boy.

didn’t want to address this, but i really thought that you should know.

“can i tell you something?”

the conversation was short. nothing much said, at least not on your part. it was him who spilled his entire being into one breath. his words hit you quickly, the loud music almost drowning them out entirely. reggie watched as your face fell. you attempted to mask your discomfort with a shy smile; one he knew all too well. it was the same look you’d given so many others before. it was all out there now. his feelings for you, the ones he’d been hiding since he first met the bright, bubbly girl. he’d fallen instantly. now he stood, drink in hand, watching as you walked away. you didn’t feel the same and he knew you never would. his mind ran through everything he could have said to persuade you. “life gets so black and white when i look in your eyes. girl, you just simplify, you make wrong seem so right, turn dark into light.” he’d lost his chance and there was nothing he could do to get it back. if only he’d been better, more charming, would you have felt the same?

++++

he drank that night. reggie tipped bottles back like there was no tomorrow. he drank and drank and drank for the next two weeks.

he knew it was a bad idea- telling you- and yet he did it anyway. alex had suggested it, but it wasn’t his fault. he’d been wanting to do it since before he could remember. it just hurt that you finally knew...and didn’t feel the same.

reggie started skipping band practice. he knew you’d be there, going over gigs you were looking for or just to provide feedback. he couldn’t look you in the eyes without being swarmed with those feelings again. nothing would change for him and he knew that. seeing you there would only make things worse.

the doubt was what ate at him. why wasn’t he good enough? was it something he said? did? there was nothing wrong with you- hell, you were perfect to him- so it had to be something with him, right?

i’ve made a mistake, but this is a whole new kind of rejection.

he could have spoken differently? if he controlled the nerves in his voice he would’ve seemed more put together. what if he said something smoother?

come over here slowly, come get to know my body. got me breaking a sweat ‘cause this is a whole new kind of neglection.

he wouldn’t call it neglect. if anything he was the one avoiding you. it was only after he came back to band practice a month later when he saw it.

you were the only one not to greet him when he walked into the studio last wednesday. reggie didn’t blame you. it was only fair you were a little uncomfortable around him now that you knew it all. so he didn’t mind when you ignored him today.

band practice had started the same as any other day. luke had written a new song and was eager to show you all. alex picked up his parts quickly, reggie was a little distracted, but tried his best to follow along, and you sat on the couch across the room flipping through newspapers and magazines in search of a place that needed an opening band.

“what do you think, y/n?” luke asked, strumming his final chord before placing his guitar back in it’s stand. “stage-worthy?”

“a little choppy on the bass, but otherwise not bad.” you looked up at the boys.

luke, bobby, and alex laughed at your quip, but reggie’s face resembled something of a poorly hidden scowl. in his mind your remark was nothing short of jab back at him. is it bad that he was the slightest bit relieved you even addressed him?

it felt like it had been years since he saw your smile let alone pointed in his direction.

“you heard the girl! pick it up, peters!”

“shut it, luke.” reggie swung his bass back around, ready to play. he glanced quickly up at you to see your eyes already on him. a soft smile rested on your lips as you ducked your head back down to your work.

reggie felt those familiar butterflies arise in him. you still managed to steal his heart even after breaking it.

that’s gotta hurt.

++++

i’m missing you, do you miss me too? i’m missing all your cues ‘cause baby, it’s hot in here and i’m filled with fear, ‘cause i know you don’t like to lose.

“i miss her.” reggie slumped down in his seat, shuffling his shoes gently on the pine floor.

“dude she literally just said she couldn’t make it to bowling.” bobby walked towards his sulking bandmate. he had just completed a turn and glanced back to see the last three pins fall.

it was alex’s go. on his way to the rack of multicolored bowling balls, he patted bobby on the back as a ‘congrats, man!’

“i don’t just mean tonight. after i told her and- and after i ghosted you guys for a couple weeks- sorry about that by the way.” luke dismissively waved him off, nodding for him to continue. “she’s been ignoring me. at first she would at least smile at me, but now she won’t even look in my direction. i know i messed up, but this is just confusing.”

the boys had decided to relax this friday night. after having practice everyday this week and working nonstop, a celebratory pizza and bowling night seemed appropriate. you had actually suggested the small bowling alley a couple towns over for the boys to go. they insisted you come along, but you had already made plans.

they weren’t the only ones with a busy schedule. between managing the band, work, school, and maintaining your own personal relationships, you needed a break. friday was the only night you had free, so you made the most of it. bowling could wait.

“she’s been distancing herself from us too, reggie. not just you.” luke admitted.

“girls are just confusing, man.” reggie looked up at bobby. he tried his hardest to smile along with his friend, but all that was on his mind was you.

he didn’t realize how much it hurt not having you there. it was in that moment when reggie decided keeping you as a friend, would mean he at least kept you in his life. even if your feelings for him never changed, not having you around was worse than losing you.

++++

“is she actually gonna show?”

“dude, why wouldn’t she?” luke and bobby murmured between themselves.

sunset curve stood backstage, tuning their instruments in preparation for their performance. you had spent a couple weeks trying to book this gig. through your hectic schedule you had spent little time at the studio with the boys, but you were still able to ‘work your magic’ -as luke would say- and get them a spot playing at a club.

they were obviously grateful, but seeing as they hardly saw you, they weren’t able to express it. regardless of them practicing in your garage, your time was exhausted running between your work and school.

now you stood front row at the club, waiting for their band- your band- to be announced on stage. little did you know, reggie had been pacing back and forth hoping you’d show. the look on his face once he caught sight of you was one you drilled into your mind.

it was pure joy.

the boys all gave the crowd a quick scan as they reached their instruments. almost at once they all saw you and smiled. their teeth weren’t showing nearly as much as reggie’s, but you could tell they were all ecstatic to see you nonetheless.

to say the performance went smoothly was an understatement. to you, they did phenomenally. it was not only the crowd’s first time hearing some of the songs, but yours as well. the boys were flawless and they knew it. you could practically see the energy radiating off of them as they took their bows.

you took no time in rushing past the crowd to the backstage, waiting eagerly to congratulate the boys.

“you came!” reggie practically leapt off the stage and into your arms.

“good to see you too, peters-” you choked, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“let the poor girl breathe!” bobby chuckled, following the rest of the boys down the steps.

reggie quickly released you, muttering a sequence of apologies. his cheeks burned a bright pink as he finally met your eyes. there was a sort of twinkle he noticed. he couldn’t quite place it as he was blocked from your view, but he saw it nonetheless.

“you guys did amazing up there.” you smiled at the rest of the band. they all took their turn wrapping you up in sweaty hugs.

“no thanks to our amazing manager!” alex cheered.

an assortment of ‘here here’s’ and ‘cheers’ erupted from the boys. they paraded around you, talking over each other as they relived their time on stage from just moments ago.

“celebratory pizza?” luke jumped in question, arms waving towards the door.

“i’m down!”

“you guys comin?” alex nodded towards you and reggie. the two of you stepping away from the group subconsciously.

“we’ll be there in a bit. can i talk to you for a sec, reg?” the three guys behind you exchanged a set of looks. each raising their eyebrows higher than the next. alex was quick to push his bandmates out the door to give the two of you some privacy.

you couldn’t help the blush that crept onto your cheeks as you looked back at reggie. he too had a thin layer of pink dusting his cheeks. the two of you stood for a moment, neither speaking. the seconds between the boys leaving and your first words felt like an eternity.

you shifted from foot to foot, trying to find the right words.

“i just wanted to say-” you started.

“i’m sorry!” the two of you blurted out in unison.

“you first.” you giggled, ducking your head as the boy in front of you stuttered his words.

“ok, ok. i’m sorry for springing all of that onto you a couple months ago and then ditching the band while i drank away my petty feelings. it was pretty shitty- i mean being rejected is pretty shitty too, but the way i reacted was bad. it just hurt because i’ve liked you for so long and when you said you didn’t feel the same, i didn’t know what to do so i hid and-” reggie rambled and only paused to take a breath. you took the opportunity to pipe up.

“reggie...i need to apologize, too. i could have had an actual conversation instead of walking away from you-”

“no!” reggie bounced forward slightly, making you stumble back in laughter. “i mean...your reaction was valid. you probably weren’t expecting it all. you not feeling the same shouldn’t have changed our relationship and i realized that all recently. i’d much rather have you as my manager and friend than lose you completely. so…y/n-” reggie stepped forward again, reaching for your hands. you nervously laced your fingers with his, looking up as he continued on with his dramatic speech. “y/n, will you do me the honor of being my friend?”

you couldn’t help but giggle at his theatrics. reggie was sincere and you could see that. he didn’t want to lose you and even if it was only a month of you two hardly seeing each other, he knew he didn’t want you out of his life.

“reggie…?” your tone scared him. reggie’s eyebrows raised slightly at your sudden seriousness. were you going to leave him right then and there? would you not want to be his friend anymore?

“what if your feelings weren’t all one sided anymore?”

++++

tagged: @caitsymichelle13 @poppin-peters @shmaptainshada @mystic-writings @fantomlovescharliegillespie4ever @dream-a-little-bigger-x @mnmdancin12 @annoyinglyseverehottub @peeurpantsbitch @artificialsweetener15

message me/fill out the form on my navigation to be added to the taglist:)

#we three #one shot #writing #short story #julie and the phantoms #julie and the phat ones #sunset curve #julie molina #reggie peters #luke patterson #bobby wilson #alex mercer #jatp #jatp fic #reggie peters fic #reggie peters x reader #reggie peters x y/n

66 notes · View notes

angelinasway · 3 years

Text

Regaining Hope

Chapter Six

Pairing: Clark Kent/Buffy Summers

Warnings/Triggers:Torture, Violence, Mention's of Major Character Death, Bad Language, Sexual Tension, Eventual Smut

Summary: Takes place during Man of Steel. When Buffy discovers the U.S Military trying to keep quiet about an object buried in a twenty thousand year old glacier, she immediately thinks the worst. However, when a surprise visit to the Canadian Arctic puts her in the path of a mysterious stranger her whole world is changed forever.

Previous Chapters: [Chapter One] [Chapter Two] [Chapter Three] [Chapter Four] [Chapter Five]

[TTH] [AO3] [FFN]

Authors Notes:Thank you all for you're amazing reviews. I never get tired of reading them. I just got to say I adored writing this chapter. It was so much fun and I loved the banter. I'm slowly falling in love with this couple the more I explore it. I should warn everyone that there's a subject that comes up that might offend some of you. I did not write this part to try to do that to anyone, so please don't take it seriously. It was more about showing Buffy's age and what some of us begin to contemplate as we get older. If Buffy was really only twenty-one it wouldn't be a topic that would come up, but I don't think its to far off the mark that a thirty-two year old Buffy would think these thing. Once again, a shout out and huge thanks to my amazing beta Hipkarma for being so insightful and just plain helpful while editing these chapters. I don't know what I would do without her.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter Six

Buffy awoke, as always right around eight. It didn’t matter where she was in the world, she always woke up around the same time every morning. Except, this morning happened to be very different because a large warm arm was wrapped firmly around her waist and a large thigh was wedged between her legs. She blinked in surprise as the night before came rushing back in surround sound and technicolor. From the moment Faith and Gunn woke them up having obnoxiously loud sex to when she first heard Clark moan. The deep baritone of the sound sending such a shock wave of lust straight to her core, she’d never felt anything like it and she was certain she couldn’t have stopped herself from touching him after that even if she tried.

God, he was built like brick wall. A very soft and warm brick wall, but a brick wall nonetheless. Training him was going to be difficult for that reason. She was incredibly strong but he was a hell of a lot stronger than her. Getting hit by him at full strength wasn’t really going to be an option. Though, she could always train him in her suit, which might actually give her a little bit of advantage against anything he threw at her. The suit itself was highly warded, to the point where she could probably get hit by a train and be able to walk it off. So that might actually be able to work, as long as he didn’t go for her head which unfortunately the full leather and Kevlar body suit did not cover. They could definitely work around that though.

She bit her lip, remembering how good it felt to kiss him. It had been awkward at first, but he was an incredibly fast learner and eventually began to take the lead. Heat pooled in her belly at what came after though, the grinding and rubbing that ended in one of the best orgasms she ever had. He really was such a well-built man, everything about him was deceptively large from his broad shoulders to his thighs that were almost as big as tree trunks. Something she didn’t actually notice until she straddled him. The act itself had forced her legs farther apart than she was expecting. So, when he’d pulled her into his lap his cock was suddenly perfectly aligned against her clit, and boy did he feel big. Almost too big if she was being honest.

The familiar throb of arousal hit her; her panties suddenly soaked. She vaguely remembered telling him after he got out of the shower that he looked ridiculous squashed up on her couch and to just share the bed. She was now slightly regretting that, because at this moment she wanted nothing more than to press herself back against the body currently cuddling her and grind her ass against the erection she felt poking her. ‘Yep, it was definitely time to get up.’

She meant what she’d said earlier about not being ready for sex yet and she really did plan to stick to that. She wanted to get to know him first, find out what his likes and dislikes were, what his favorite movies were, hell even what his favorite color was. She truly did believe what Lorne had told her, but she craved the getting-to-know-you portion of the relationship process more than anything. It had been a long time since she had that. In fact, if she was being honest, she was pretty sure she never really had it.

Angel had always hated talking about himself and she remembered very clearly spending a few hours researching him alone just to try and understand more about him. Unfortunately, back then Giles only had his pre-soul history, which probably should have been her first clue that embarking on any type of relationship with him was a bad idea. Riley had been different however, but when they started the relationship, they had both been keeping secrets. So, there had been big honesty issues there. Spike she hadn’t bothered getting to know, at least not before his soul. Oh, there were plenty of times she would slip up and ask him a question about himself, and even be cordial to him, but the personal stuff hadn’t come until those long nights spent together planning against The First. And, then again, after Angelus had killed Giles when she was basically a walking zombie. He would talk to her for hours even if she didn’t talk back just to try and snap her out of her desolation. He told her all about his life when he was human, and would even talk about some of the places he traveled with Dru. He never mentioned Angelus in those times, and she was grateful for that.

It was in those moments that she realized why she and Spike meshed so well. He was very good at taking care of broken things and she was a very broken thing. He was created for it actually, and he needed to take care of her just as badly as she needed to be taken care of. She just hoped Clark could handle the task as well, because she had picked up a lot of the pieces of her shattered heart and soul and begun to paste them back together, but there were still several missing parts of herself that she had lost along the way. She was working on it and had been for awhile but she still had her moments of utter despair and moodiness. Buffy knew better than anyone how difficult she could be.

She slowly tried to extract herself from his hold, but the arm that held her in place tightened. She heard a sleepy moan next to ear and then she felt his body stiffen as he came awake. Clark quickly removed his arm from around her waist and the knee that had wedged itself between her thighs and turned over on his back.

“Sorry,” He murmured groggily.

Buffy turned to face him, a slow smile spreading across her face as she propped her head up with her hand. He was blushing again and she found she rather enjoyed it. “I think we’re past accidental sleepy cuddling, don’t you?”

A sleepy half smile crossed his lips at her words, "Mmm," he hummed. "So, that really did happen."

She chuckled; he was absolutely adorable. "Unless we were sharing the same dream, I'm gonna go with a big uh-huh."

His blue eyes met hers, and his smile stretched into a full grin. His hand reached up and he ran the back of it down her cheek.

"Are you hungry?" He asked.

She nodded. "I could definitely eat."

He sighed. "We should probably get dressed then."

"Mmm," She agreed, rolling on her back and stretching her arms above her head. "Shower first though, and I should probably grab your clothes from yesterday out of the dryer."

His hand reached out again, running it along the flat of her stomach. "You shower, I remember where the laundry room is. I'll get them."

He sat up and then leaned down to kiss her, but she stopped him. "I have morning breath. I really don't think you want to do that before I brush my teeth."

He chuckled and shook his head. "I honestly don't think I care," and then he was on her, his lips sliding against hers.

She giggled, breaking the kiss and saying, "I think I created a monster."

"Well, maybe you shouldn't have taken advantage of me last night." Clark said, a smirk forming on his lips.

Buffy’s mouth dropped open, her eyes widening. "I did no such thing!" She said on a laugh.

"Oh," he said, raising an eyebrow. "I think you did," and then he was kissing her again, sliding his tongue into her mouth before she could protest.

The kisses suddenly turned much more serious and before she knew what she was doing her legs had wrapped around his waist and her arms were around his neck. She felt his hard length push against her and she moaned.

"Mmm," He hummed, breaking the kiss. "I could get used to that sound."

His lips slid along her jawline, until he reached her neck where he placed a few wet kisses and then froze. He pulled away and Buffy’s eyes shot open. His eyes staring at her neck in a mixture horror and disbelief.

"Where...how did you get that?" He asked, his hand coming up to brush his thumb across her scar.

Buffy's own hand came up and rubbed the area. "Vampire bite. Well, three to be exact." She saw a pained look flash across his eyes as his hand came up to cup her cheek. "What is it?" She asked.

Clark shook his head, removing his hand and sitting back. "I just..." He sighed. "I can't help thinking how different your life might have been had I met you sooner." He looked away. “You’ve been through so much, some of it I read and some of it you told me.” He met her eyes, sadness and guilt shining in them, “And I’m guessing that’s only the half of it…and…and I can’t help thinking that I could have saved you from it all.”

She felt her heart melt a little at his words. That was definitely up there with at least the top five sweetest things anyone ever said to her, but he shouldn’t be beating himself up for something that was out of his hands.

She sighed sitting up, her hand reaching for his and entwining their fingers, bringing it into her lap. “As sweet as the sentiment is Clark, you can’t think like that.” She nodded, “Trust me, I’m the queen of blaming myself for things that are absolutely out of my control and the truth is, neither of us can know what would have happened had we met sooner.” She shrugged “I mean think about it. Sure, my life would have been easier but when the big stuff came up, I wouldn’t have been able to handle it as well, and do you honestly think I wouldn’t have jumped for Dawn?” She swallowed, “As shitty as the outcome was and even if I knew back then what I know now, I would do it again for her in a heartbeat.”

“I know,” he whispered, looking down. “I just…what if I could have stopped you from having to jump at all?”

She reached her free hand out, cupping his cheek, “Then I wouldn’t be who I am today. I would have never had the choice to take more power than I already had and have the strength and wherewithal to turn it down. I would have never found the Scythe and been able to use its power to activate the Slayers.” At Clark’s frown, she pulled away, getting off the bed and opened the closet. She unzipped her weapons bag and pulled out the Scythe.

“This,” she said, showing him the weapon from when they first met. “It was made thousands of years ago by something called the Guardians. It was made for the first Slayer and she used it to drive the last Old One from this plain of existence. Then it was hidden until the day I found it. It’s the whole reason Willow was able to tap into the Slayer line and activate the girls. It’s incredibly powerful, and I can feel the power thrumming underneath my hand as we speak.” She put the Scythe back and walked over to him, placing her hand on his shoulder. “Kinda like you.”

Clark swallowed. “What…what do I feel like?”

“Powerful, almost overwhelmingly so,” she said honestly, sitting back on the bed. “But not evil or demonic. Those kinda things usually feel cold, like the temperature suddenly drops and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.” She gave him a small smile, “You feel warm, like I’ve been sunbathing for hours and my skin is that perfect mixture of overheated and sun kissed.”

He brought his hand up, cupping her chin and rubbing his thumb along her lower lip. "And when I kiss you?"

Buffy gasped, heat building in her belly. It took everything in her not to suck his thumb into her mouth. "If I answer that," she said breathily, "we won't ever make it to breakfast."

He blew out a breath, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against hers. "I've never felt so out of control in my life." He opened his eyes, meeting hers. "You...you make me want to lose control."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" She asked, her hand coming up to rub down his chest.

"I honestly don't know," he sighed. "But it scares the hell out of me."

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

He kissed her then, his hand running into her hair before saying, "Don't be. I feel more alive than I have in years."

"I think that makes two of us then." She said softly. "You're not the only one who feels out of control or alive." She paused, "And I think if I don't get in the shower soon, I don't think I can be held responsible for my next actions."

He chuckled, pulling away. "Then you should probably take a shower," he said moving off the bed, "because I'm pretty sure you aren't alone in that either."

Buffy laughed, "You sure you can find the laundry room, okay?"

"I got it," he said, reaching out to stroke her cheek before grabbing his discarded sweats from last night, chucking them on and heading for the door.

Buffy watched him go and then shook herself out of her daze. God, he had a fabulous back. Why had she not noticed it before? This was going to be incredibly hard if they were both feeling this way. She once again opened her closet grabbing what she needed for the day.

****<S>**<S>****

Clark raised an eyebrow, looking at her in amusement, "You really think this is a good idea?"

She grinned, "No, but it’s cheap entertainment and they deserve it."

They were standing in the hallway outside Faith and Gunn’s room. Buffy having the bright idea of getting back at the couple for their shenanigan’s the night before, because as she said, “This was a long time coming.”

"Alright," he said chuckling. "Then hand me the bucket."

"What...why?" She asked confused.

Clark rolled his eyes, "Because I'm going to make the water colder."

Buffy frowned. "Is this another ability you've yet to tell me about?"

He looked at her innocently. “Maybe?”

The look she gave him was both parts annoyed and pouty. “Okay Mr. Secret Keeper, who keeps secrets. Here,” she grumbled, shoving the quarter filled bucket into his arms.

“I think you’ve been watching too much Harry Potter,” he said as seriously as he could, even though he knew it was obvious he was trying not to laugh.

She looked almost offended for a moment, “I have not!” A full-fledged pout finally broke out on her lips, “At least not willingly. Willow makes me watch it every year.” She sighed, “Then we get into an argument about if the Wizarding World is real or not in another dimension. It’s a thing.”

He snorted, "You're joking."

She rolled her eyes, "I wish," and then she shook her head. "Now hurry up, before they wake up."

He grinned, blowing softly into the bucket and handing it back. "There, it should be cold enough now."

She frowned at the water, reaching her hand into the bucket and touching it. Her eyes widened in surprise.

"Wow! That's like seriously impressive." She grinned, "This is gonna be so good." Buffy looked at him, "You ready?"

At Clark’s nod, she said, "Alright, get ready to run."

He watched her take a step back and then her leg shot out, slamming into the door. The lock splintered and the door swung open, hitting the wall hard. Both Faith and Gunn shot up in alarm, suddenly alert and ready to fight.

“Wakey, wakey!” Buffy yelled, before tossing the contents of the bucket on them.

They both screamed when the ice water hit them. Their eyes widening in disbelief. Faith panted from the sudden shock of the water, looking at hers soaked tank top, her bed, and then Gunn before her eyes suddenly swung up to meet Buffy’s dancing ones. The look she gave them both could freeze over hell, it even managed to make Clark nervous enough to start backing up.

“You. Are. So. Fucking. Dead!” She ground out, fury flashing in her eyes.

“Run!” Buffy squealed, already pushing him down the hallway just as Faith shot out of bed. They were both through the living area and out the staff door in seconds, but Faith was fast and she was hot on their heels. The sound of her bare feet slapping against hardwood close behind them.

As they approached the stairwell a giggling Buffy yelled, “Jump, no time for stairs.”

Clark quickly launched himself over the banister, landing on the ground floor and turning just in time to see Buffy do the same. She landed on her feet and looked up in time to see a snarling Faith staring down at them, water still dripping from her hair and tank top.

“You’re dead B!” She yelled.

“What the hell!” Lisa said, coming around the corner a few of the girls hot on her heels just as Faith launched herself off the banister.

Buffy was pushing Clark again and they slammed out the front door and into the cool morning air. He wrapped his arms around her just as Faith reached the door in only a tank top and boxers and shot them into the air just before she could reach them. Both of them broke into fits of hysterics when they heard her scream, “He can fucking fly!”

“Wow,” Buffy said in between her giggles. “She’s really mad, isn’t she?”

****<S>**<S>****

“Okay,” Buffy said, snagging a piece of bacon off his plate. “Favorite comedy?”

They were in a restaurant not too far from the school. It was a very small establishment, but it was busy and the food smelt good. Buffy had recommended it to Clark, saying it was the best kept secret in Cleveland. It had taken them a little while to get a table, but now they were comfortably seated with two delicious looking breakfasts in front of them.

They had been exchanging questions since they arrived at the restaurant. Simple things, from favorite colors, to places traveled, and now they were on to movies. Except Buffy had just stolen a piece of bacon off his plate without even asking, and it was done in such a way it almost felt domestic. Almost as if this was a completely normal occurrence and they had dined together hundreds of times.

“Did you…did you just steal my bacon?” Clark said, raising an eyebrow.

She blinked at him innocently, taking a bite of the salty goodness while holding back a smile, “Maybe.”

He snorted, “Well, now I want a bite of your pancakes.”

Buffy’s face broke into a grin, and she used her fork to cut him a piece of her strawberry and banana pancakes. Leaning over the table and holding out the bite to him, while using her other hand to protect the table from any syrup dripping.

Clark leaned forward, wrapped his lips around the offered morsel and hummed as the sugary taste exploded on his tongue. He nodded, swallowing the bite before saying, “I should have gotten the pancakes.”

Buffy chuckled, cutting her own piece and taking a bite, her eyes rolling up at the homemade strawberry syrup. “I told you.” She said after swallowing. “This place has awesome pancakes for it being such a hole in the wall.”

Clark cut into his eggs benedict and took a bite. “Mmm,” He hummed, pointing at his plate as he chewed and swallowed. “But this is very good too.”

"What do you like better?" She asked.

"Hmm," he said thinking. "Well, it’s not a very fair comparison. One’s sweet and one’s savory."

"True," she acknowledged. "So, I guess the question should be, what do prefer sweet or salty?"

He licked his lips. "That's actually a tough question. My mom is an excellent cook on both fronts, but I think if I had to choose it would be sweet. I love pie and she does make the best."

She smiled softly, "She sounds pretty incredible."

He nodded, "My parents couldn't have kids so them finding me was what she calls a miracle." He smiled, "When I was a kid and my abilities first started showing, she was the one who helped me control it. She taught me how to focus and block everything else out."

"I have to admit, I'm a bit nervous about meeting her." She confessed shyly.

He frowned in confusion, "Why?"

Buffy shrugged, "Well, she raised you, didn’t she? Any woman capable of turning out a guy who so far has been one of the sweetest, most well-mannered men I’ve ever met, must have some superpowers of her own."

He chuckled a blush spreading across his cheeks. "I'm sure she'll be thrilled to know that."

Buffy grinned, shaking her head. "Anyway, back to our original topic. What's your favorite comedy?"

"Hmm," He thought for a moment. "Well right now, I think it’s a toss-up between Talladega Nights and Step Brothers." He said, taking another bite of his breakfast.

"Ah," she acknowledged. "A Ferrell fan. He is hilarious, but I myself would have to go with Sandler or Kevin Smith. I love Dogma and Fifty First Dates is probably my favorite romantic comedy."

He shook his head, "I've never seen Dogma. Isn't that the one that makes fun of religion?"

Buffy's mouth dropped open, "You've never seen it! Okay that's the first movie we are watching together,” Her cheeks suddenly pinkening as she cleared her throat and added. “And yes, it does make fun of religion but in a really unique way where it sends a good message too.” She shrugged, “I think I like it because of how well it rips the Bible apart as far as hypocrisy goes. I’m not very religious, but I mean I do believe there’s something. I don’t know if it’s all the Powers or God or what really, but there is definitely something beyond all this. However, the Bible is one of those things that gets used for evil, far more than it’s used for good. Plus, I’m living proof that some of the sins mentioned in the Bible are complete bullshit.”

He raised an eyebrow, “Because you went to heaven.”

She nodded, “Exactly. Let’s see,” she began to count off her sins on one hand. “Lying, I did a lot of that after I was called, also definitely did not honor my mother and father, I’ve taken the Lord’s name in vain on several occasions, I’ve stolen when I’ve had to, not for myself but for slaying.” She put her hand down. “Not to mention,” She whispered quietly. “I may have killed a few people who were after my sister back then, not intentionally of course but I’m pretty sure I killed at least one of them and I’m almost positive they were very human.” At Clark’s surprised frown she explained, “There were these, god I don’t even know a better way of describing it other than medieval knights charged with destroying the Key, and when we all tried to run, they attacked us.”

“But wouldn’t that be considered self-defense?” He asked with a frown and then added, “And maybe you were allowed to go to heaven because of what you are?”

Buffy snorted, “And how unfair is that. I get to go to heaven with the same kinda vague belief system as other people who live their lives with less red on their ledger than I have, but they don’t.” She shook her head. “It’s also kinda bullshit how no sin is greater than any other, or in Catholicism’s case it only applies to anyone in the church. I mean come on, I’ve heard of the Catholic church in particular, refusing to hold a funeral or allow burial over suicide, and yet they protect their pedophile priests like they are somehow above it all.” She sighed, a blush forming on her cheeks at her diatribe. “Sorry, I have many feelings about this particular subject.” She looked down, “I think that most religions have it wrong. It’s about our intents and choices, if we spend our lives at least trying to do good, no matter if we fall along the way or not, we have a place in heaven. If we however let the darkness that is always around us, whether we know it’s there or not, consume us, then we let ourselves be corrupted. If we begin to enjoy the pain and suffering, we as humans are quite capable of causing all on our own, I think that’s when we become hell bound.” She took a drink of her juice, meeting his eyes again, before adding. “I’m sorry if you’re religious and I offended you. I sometimes forget that not everyone thinks the same way I do.”

He smiled softly. She was really cute when she was passionate about something. He couldn’t really help playing devil’s advocate to watch that spark in her eyes as she got indignant over the topic of religion, but it had gone on long enough. He was trying to enjoy this moment, not offend her.

“I’m not,” He clarified. “I honestly don’t know what I believe. My dad and mom had me baptized as Presbyterian, but I think my dad might have stopped believing after they found me. My mom probably did too, but she would never admit it.”

Buffy frowned, “Then why–”

“Because I’m an alien Buffy,” He shook his head. “Neither of them knew where I was from or what I was. I looked human, but they both knew I wasn’t.” He shrugged, “I think they did it to teach me right from wrong the only way they really understood how. The same way their parents taught them.” He shook his head, “It wasn’t only that though, my dad used stories, his own life stories to drill into me how important it was that I always made the better choice, because for someone like me, losing my temper isn’t really an option if it’s going to hurt someone.” He sighed, “As for religion, I used to wonder why God would make me this way until my dad told me the truth. It’s very hard for me to worship a god that had no hand in my creation. In fact, I stopped going to church because I just felt like an imposter.”

Her eyes softened at his words and she reached her hand across the table and entwined their fingers. “You aren’t an imposter, Clark. I may not be religious, but I absolutely believe in destiny and the prophecy proves you were meant to be here. That somewhere in the ether the Powers or whoever, saw your soul and found it important enough to send a vision to some unsuspecting seer here on Earth.” She smiled, “No matter what happens, don’t ever feel you don’t belong here.”

“Yeah, for what purpose still remains to be seen.” He said, frowning slightly.

Buffy frowned, “I thought your dad said–”

Clark shook his head, “I’m not talking about why my parents sent me here, I’m talking about the prophecy.”

Understanding suddenly came into her eyes and she sighed, “I’ll try to work on Wes for you, okay? I know it’s frustrating but I don’t think he’s keeping it from us because he’s trying to be malicious or hoard information.” She nodded, “I do believe he’s genuinely trying to protect us, but I’m also not stupid enough to believe that’s the only reason.”

He looked at her surprised by her admission as he watched her take a bite of her pancakes. “What…what do you mean?”

Buffy swallowed and licked the syrup off her lips, using her napkin to dab up the excess. “Honestly, I think they’re trying to protect me from myself. Willow said it herself that day in the ship. There’re some things in it that would seriously wig me. Lorne said we’re soulmates, and I believe him, but it’s more than soulmates and I think you feel it too.” She raised her eyebrow at him. “If the prophecy say’s that we are destined in some way and they told me, there’s a very good chance we would not be sitting here right now because I would constantly be second guessing my feelings. At least that’s what they probably think.”

Clark studied her. She really was impressive, he found himself admiring her the more they got to know each other. “You already knew though, didn’t you?”

“I guessed it might be that in the ship, when Willow said what she said. Earlier that day when you were in my trailer and you left your poem.” Buffy smirked, “Clever by the way.” She said, looking at him appraisingly, before adding, “When you passed me, I felt something I’ve never felt before, it was like I was on fire. It was so powerful that even Hardy noticed my reaction and I was definitely not trying to draw attention to you.”

“Oh yes,” Clark acknowledged. “I remember over hearing that conversation.” He smirked at her, “What was it that you called me? Oh yeah, a well-built redneck with puppy eyes.” Watching her cheeks bloom with color was completely worth bringing it up.

“In my defense,” she said, embarrassment shining in her eyes. “I was trying to get him off your back.” Then she frowned in realization, “Seriously, you can hear that far?”

“I can hear anything on earth if I focus,” He admitted, her eyes widening in surprise. “When I was a kid and it first happened, it was like hearing everything at once. I thought I was going crazy.”

Her eyes softened. “That must have been horrible.”

“It was, and scary. I remember how scared I was.” He met her eyes as he thought about her admitting she already suspected that the prophecy said they were destined. “Can I ask you something?” At her nod, he continued, “Last night you said you usually fight things like this and even your friends thought you would freak-out. Why aren’t you fighting it?”

Her eyes dulled somewhat at the question and she pushed the few remaining bites she had around with her fork. “Honestly,” She paused, looking down at her food. “Honestly, I’m lonely.” She admitted. “I haven’t had this type of connection in years and it feels good.” She met his eyes then a blush staining her cheeks, “I thought about it and decided if the Powers are gonna give me something as beautiful as you after all the crap I’ve been through, then I was okay with that. Even this, just us talking and getting to know each other is more than I’ve had as far as romance goes in…I don’t even know how long. I had no idea how much I needed this kind of thing until I met you.”

Heat filled his cheeks at her words and their eyes remained locked on each other’s for what felt like a long time. Clark reached his hand across the table and placed it on hers.

"If it makes you feel any better, I've never felt like anything like this before." He sighed, "I had no idea something as simple as eating breakfast with a beautiful woman, who I don't have to hide from, could feel so good."

Buffy smiled softly, "We are a pair, aren't we?"

He chuckled, and nodded. "That we are."

Buffy’s cell phone rang the next second, her eyes glancing at the caller ID and widening in horror. "Shit," she hissed.

"What... what is it?" Clark asked in alarm.

"It's Dawn." She responded, staring at the phone.

He raised an eyebrow, "And that's a bad thing?"

"If Faith called her and mentioned you, yeah it could be bad." She answered, not taking her eyes off the phone.

"You don't think Faith would tell her what I am do you." Clark said, worry lacing his voice.

Buffy shook her head, "No, she's not that stupid. But I could see her hinting that you are something other as revenge for this morning." She sighed, "Which would just put my sister in a panic."

The phone luckily stopped ringing and Clark watched Buffy sigh in relief, only to have it melt away when her text message chime went off.

He watched her look at the message as the color drained from her face. "Shit!" She said again.

"What does it say?" He asked nervously.

"She said that if I don't pick up the phone, she's gonna show up here, and that I have five minutes." Buffy looked at him nervously and sighed. "Sometimes I really wish we didn't show her how to use her keyness, because unfortunately she's not bluffing."

She looked at him apologetically, "You're about to get the full of Dawn in rant mode, so prepare yourself."

Buffy dialed the number and squeezed her eyes shut as the other line connected and it was answered after the first ring.

“Hello, my beautiful and wonderful sister who doesn’t even bother to let me know she’s back in the amazing U.S. of A.” The sarcasm in the voice alone told Clark that Buffy was about to be chewed out.

“Dawn,” Buffy started, but was cut off immediately.

“So, my dearest sister, Buffy…you mind telling me why my husband is about to send one of his crew members out to fix the door and rent a fan to dry the bed in Faith’s and Gunn’s room?” An extremely sarcastic female voice said over the phone. “Or better yet, who’s this new recruit you’re getting so chummy with…hmm? Also, why the hell didn’t you tell me you were back in the states and not call!”

Buffy shifted uncomfortably in her chair, and Clark bit back his amusement, he had no siblings so this was somewhat fascinating for him. Buffy met his eyes and glared at the amusement dancing there. “Just you wait.” She mouthed, which made his nervousness skyrocket.

“Sorry Dawn,” She sighed. “I should have called, but I had just gotten out of quarantine and Wes was real big on me getting in touch with the new recruit.”

“Uh-uh, you don’t get to deflect like that, because Faith already told me. He felt more powerful than she has felt in long time, but she won’t tell me what he is.” There was a moment of pause before an exasperated tone came over the line. “So, what is he Buffy?”

“It’s not what you–” she started, but Dawn cut her off.

“If you tell me it’s not what I think I will show up there in the middle of Breakers Breakfast, I don’t care how busy it is, now spill!” Buffy’s little sister demanded.

Buffy looked at him and swallowed, “Seriously, this is not the time nor place to start talking about this.”

“He’s there, isn’t he?” Came her sister’s reply.

Buffy’s eyes widened, before quickly blurting, “Have you talked to Wes?”

Dawn paused, “Should I?”

‘Well, this was mostly his idea.” Buffy answered.

“So, Wes is okay with you boinking another demon?” Her sister’s indignant tone came over the line.

“First off,” Buffy growled, making Clark look around to see if anybody was listening. “I haven’t boinked anybody,” she said lowly. “Secondly, he’s not a demon, and third, when the hell did you turn into mom!”

“Maybe when I became a mother.” Dawn said exasperated. “Now give him the phone so I can give him the usual sisterly threats so he can know exactly what kinda hell he’ll reap if he hurts you.”

“Dawn,” Buffy warned.

“Do you actually think I won’t show up there.” Her sister countered.

Buffy’s eyes looked at him apologetically, and he saved her the humiliation of having to ask by holding out his hand. She sighed gratefully and handed him the phone.

“Hello,” Clark greeted.

“Now you listen here bub,” was the first thing she said. “I don’t really care what you are but if you do anything to hurt my sister, I will open a vein and send you to Quor’toth, do you understand?”

Clark cleared his throat. “I have no intention–”

“Of course you don’t,” She interrupted. “They never do. Now put me back on with my sister.” He blinked in surprised and shrugged, handing her back the phone.

“I think your threat was kinda lost on him, Dawn.” Buffy said in amusement, looking at a confused Clark. “I really don’t think he knows what Quor’toth is.”

“Well maybe you should tell him,” Came the snarky reply over the line. “Anyway, you better give me a phone call when you can talk in private, after the kids, me and Xand’s sex life isn’t exactly popping. So, I wanna know everything.”

A blush spread over Buffy’s cheeks, “There’s really nothing to tell Dawn.”

“Liar,” Dawn countered.

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Fine, I’ll call you in a few hours.”

****<S>**<S>****

They had stopped by the school to grab the rest of Clark’s things before he went home. Buffy giving him an extra backpack she had lying around to store them in. Thankfully, both Gunn and Faith were out, so they didn’t have to deal with any unwanted confrontations.

“What time does your flight get in tomorrow?” Clark asked, adjusting the strap on the backpack.

“1000…I mean Ten in the morning.” She answered.

“Do you want me to pick you up?” He asked.

She smiled shyly, “Only if you want to, but there will be quite a lot to do before we can make it to Smallville.”

“Such as?” He asked, stepping closer and brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. Not really knowing how to stop himself from touching her since he knew he wouldn’t see her again until tomorrow.

“Well,” she said, stepping closer. “I’ve gotta open the safehouse and get you a keycard to get in.” She reached her hand up her fingers running along the seam of his outer shirt. “There will probably be some sort of contract as far as payment for helping us goes, that I’ll need to print out.”

“Payment?” He asked, confused.

Buffy nodded, “Of course, If you help us stop an apocalypse or go on a mission with a bunch of Slayers, you get paid. The amount however, depends on how serious a situation it is.” She looked at him softly, “You didn’t actually think we would ask you to do any of this without some sort of compensation, did you?”

He looked away and shrugged. “I honestly didn’t think about it.”

She smiled, “You really are the sweetest guy I’ve ever met.”

When he met her eyes, she had moved even closer, but this time he wasn’t scared. His arms immediately wrapped around her and he lowered his head and brushed her lips softly, not taking it any farther than that. He leaned his head against hers and whispered. “I wish I didn’t have to go yet.”

“Me too.” She admitted, “But it’s okay, we’ll see each other tomorrow.” Then her eyes brightened and she pulled away. “I almost forgot, I got you this.” She reached in her back pocket and pulled out a cellphone. “Here.”

“That way, you can call me if you get bored.” She blushed.

He grinned taking the phone from her hand. “Thank you. I definitely will,” and then he sighed as he put the phone in the backpack. “I definitely need to go, my mom’s probably already worried since I didn’t come home last night.”

“Of course.” Buffy said, smiling sadly, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Clark leaned forward and they kissed one last time, before he stepped back and shot into the air, looking below at the girl who was slowly changing his world.

9 notes · View notes

imagine-loki · 4 years

Text

Ragnarok

TITLE: Ragnarok CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 3: Reunited AUTHOR: traveling-classicist ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine you take care Odin when he was homeless on Midgard (based on the deleted scene from Ragnarok). You take him in and listen his crazy stories about Asgard and Thor thinking he’s just some crazy hobo who needs help. Then one day, Thor and Loki break into your apartment looking for their father. Hela returns in your living room and insanity ensues. RATING: T

AO3 Link: Here

NOTES/WARNINGS: Wow this came out as a big Ragnarok fix-it chapter. These things happen, I suppose. Enjoy, if it’s something that you need. I know some of us feel it.

Also, head to AO3 and please, read the endnote. If you don’t use AO3, I’ll summarize here.

Someone has stolen my material (including this story and my other story, Loki’s Daughter) and every single AO3 authors material and is profiting off of it by marketing an unofficial mobile app called the Fanfic Pocket Library Archive (Unofficial) App. This thing’s been around for several years but as I’m a little new to writing, this is the first I’ve heard of it. I do this for free and receive zero (0) dollars from it. I do it for fun but it’s my intellectual property and no one deserves to make money off of it, especially without my permission.

Please, if you use this app, stop, leave a one star review, report it as inappropriate on whatever store you use (it’s on all the popular ones), and then delete it. This person is hurting fanfic authors like me and many others on this blog! I don’t (and never) encourage sending hate mail to this individual and I don’t recommend you try to contact them directly, please. I don’t know if they know that they’re hurting us but we need to make sure that this app gets taken down.

————————————————————————————————–

Several weeks had passed since Odin had come to live with Theo. They had finally settled into a workable routine. Theo was thankful she could finally work in peace for a full day without Odin bursting into her room yelling about frost giants or the helicopter he thought was an attacking dragon or whatever other mundane event triggered his dementia.

He was content, most days, with reading in the living room. Theo had gotten him a library card and they went to the library several times a week to keep him set up with books. Theo thought about getting him involved in book clubs or other social events but thought he might need a little more time before he could be with other people again.

He no longer spoke about the crazy doctor and he did not bring up the incident that Theo had had with him. For which, she was grateful. All in all, he was a good roommate and Theo enjoyed listening to his stories about Asgard and the battles in the Nine Realms. She was concerned by his comments about the Avenger Thor being his son, but she was not sure what to do about them.

She had asked him how long he had been in New York and he could remember being there for about four years. She assumed he had been upset and displaced during the Battle of New York, like herself and so many others had been. She thought, perhaps, this is where his fantasies about Thor and the Avengers had come from. A lot of people had had psychotic breaks after the aliens attacked. New Yorkers could come back from a lot: freak storms, floods, train wrecks, fires, terrorists, spies. But aliens and super heroes proved to be just a little too much for some.

Her attempts to get him to see a real doctor had all come up short. She did not want to force Odin to do something he did not want to do. She still wanted him to have the dignity of being his own person. He was healthy, for the most part, though she had noticed a bit of bodily weakness as of late. She had just chalked it up to the cold weather and old age. She was slowly working on his alcohol habit. He was down to only a few drinks a week now, instead of one a day. She did have to start hiding the booze in her room, though, after she caught him pinching some beer in the middle of the night one night.

She hoped that with a little more time together, he would come to trust her enough to go to a doctor to address his mental state but for now, as he wasn’t hurting himself or anyone else, she was content with him just being content. She enjoyed living with him. She didn’t feel like it was a chore to take care of him. She loved cooking for him and introducing him to new food.

She learned he had something of a sweet tooth so she kept a jar stocked with cookies or brownies or tarts or whatever recipe she could find. He even began checking out cookbooks from the library that had photos of food he thought looked good or familiar.

“Oh, these look like the apple tarts that Idunn used to make for us. Do you think you could make these? Of course, you don’t have golden apples but I’m sure you could find a decent substitute,” he would say.

“Sure! They look easy enough,” Theo would reply. “Check this one out and we’ll drop by the grocery store and pick up the ingredients.”

When they arrived back at her apartment, she unpacked the groceries. To her surprise, Odin came to her side and helped her. He took out the milk and cheese and a few other things and placed them in the refrigerator. She smiled. She’d have to remove the cereal and oatmeal he put in there later but at least he was trying to help.

He placed her cookbook on the island in the kitchen and took the rest of his books to the living room to read. She put on some coffee for him. She had found that he did enjoy a cup of coffee while he read. She set down a mug for him and he thanked her as he pulled out one of his newest books, a book about modern American politics. He went through books very quickly, so he often checked out ten or more books in a single visit. Among them this time were books about the Afghan wars, the Iraqi war, the American revolution, the Civil War, the civil rights movement, another Norse mythology book, and a book about Nordic style knitting.

She returned to the kitchen and started on the recipe for the apple tarts. She started on the dough and made up the apple and cinnamon mixture. She glanced up at Odin and caught him watching her from over the top of her book. When she caught his eye, he quickly looked down at his book again. She smiled and placed the tart crusts in to bake. When they were done, she pulled them out and added the apple mixture on the tarts. When she was finished, she put the tarts back in the oven.

“Okay, those need a little more time and then we can try them out,” Theo said.

“They already smell delightful,” Odin said.

Theo smiled. She enjoyed how happy he had been recently. It was good to see someone who had been so spiteful and angry and confused, be content and happy with life. Even though, he was still rather confused most of the time.

“Nordic Style Knitting?” Theo read, as she picked up one of Odin’s books from the pile on the coffee table.

“Knitting?” he said, taking a closer look. “I thought that said, ‘knighting’. I must be losing my sight.”

“Aw, I thought you were going to pick up a new hobby,” Theo said, a little disappointed. “Knighting? It has a picture of a woman with a knitted sweater on it looking longingly into mid-distance. How did you think this was about knights?”

“Well, you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. That’s what the librarian lady always says,” Odin said.

Theo nodded. “Well, I guess that’s true. But if there’s anything about knights in here, be sure to tell me because that would be the plot twist of the century.”

“Hmph, a king does not have time for knitting,” he said.

“Right, well you’re not much of a King of a the Dumpsters now, are you?” Theo said, smiling.

“Well, I suppose I’m not king anymore,” he muttered.

“Are you happy?” she asked. He looked up at her and smiled. His eye shimmered a bit in the light.

“Most of the time,” he said.

She laughed. “Well, that’s the goal, isn’t it?” She leaned over the couch and kissed his cheek. “I’ll be in my room for a bit. I’ll be out when the oven beeps.”

She walked down the hallway to her room and flopped onto her bed, playing on her phone. The apartment filled with the smell of apple tarts. It made her stomach growl in anticipation. She rolled over on her back, phone raised over her face, playing Candy Crush. She completely lost track of time and before long the timer started beeping in the kitchen.

“What is that! Who’s there?” Odin shouted at the oven.

The beeping and Odin’s booming voice made her jump. The phone slipped from her hands and landed like a brick on her face. “Ow,” she groaned as she slumped off her bed to get Odin away from the oven again before he started beating it with her rolling pin.

“Odin, it’s just the timer, remember? Our tarts are done!” she said, removing the rolling pin gently from his hands. She pulled on her oven mits and pulled out the tray. Odin’s hand went straight for one, but Theo smacked it away. He recoiled holding his hand and giving her a sour look.

“Not now, you crazy! They just came out! They’re still hot,” she said.

He frowned at her and grumbled as he stalked to the living room and plopped down on the couch again. She smiled and shook her head. She waited for them to cool before plating a few for him and some for herself and walking into the living room to join him. She set the plate down in front of him. When she looked down at him, he had his hands on his head again like he did when he was upset and frustrated. A book was open in his lap.

“Odin? Are you alright? What’s wrong?” she asked, setting the plate down on the table.

“Asgard is not a place, I know that, but I have to remember,” he said, hitting his head with his palms.

“No, no, we don’t do that, Odin,” Theo said, stopping him. “Just take a deep breath, come on.” She picked up the book from his lap. It was the Norse mythology book. He grabbed it from her and pointed to the page he was on.

“Look, look at her, I know her,” he said, pointing to an illustration of a woman on the page. Theo read the caption, ‘The Goddess of Death, Hela’. She looked up at Odin again. He was clearly in distress.

“It’s alright, Odin, here have a tart, remember? We were excited about these. They smell really good,” she prompted him with the plate, but he shook his head. He was really distressed if food would not bring him out of this.

“They’ve got it all wrong. They’ve got it all wrong! Stupid Midgardians. Not you, Theo! Them!” he said, pointing at the book and fidgeting. “She’ll come back. I do not know when, but it feels soon. Very soon. She will kill me.”

“Odin, no one is going to kill you,” Theo said, coolly, trying to keep a calm tone.

“No, no, she will. It’s been foretold that she will,” he panted.

“Odin, those are just stories. No one is going to kill you. Did you see that guard dog of a landlord I have downstairs? He’s not going to let anyone in that doesn’t live here. I promise, no one is going to kill you.”

“I must speak with my sons. I must speak with them now! I must warn them immediately!” he said. “Asgard is not a place!” He pounded on his head again. “Why won’t they listen! Why can’t I remember!”

“Odin, please, stop! Don’t hurt yourself!” Theo grabbed both his hands and held them. He stared at her. Beads of sweat had appeared on his forehead. His eye was bloodshot and glistened with welling tears. Theo sighed.

“Listen. Let me help you. Please,” she pleaded with him, holding his hands. “Take a deep breath.”

“Theo—”

“Shut it! Do as I say,” she snapped.

He sighed and took a deep breath.

“Alright, now let it out.” He did so. “Again,” Theo said, softening her tone now that he was listening to her. She made him take several deep breaths in and out until he was calm. She held his hands so that he could not hit himself.

“Okay, I want you to close your eye and focus on your breathing and make all the other little Odin voices stop talking in your head. Frigga too, if she’s in there,” Theo said. “Sorry, Frigga,” she added, quietly.

“This is silly,” Odin said.

“It’s not silly, just trust me, okay. Rule number seven, remember?” she said. He opened his eye and looked at her.

“Fine,” he grumbled, closing his eye again.

“Good. Sometimes this takes a while. It takes me a while sometimes so just tell me when you have them all shut up.”

She waited for several minutes when finally, Odin said, “Alright.”

“Okay, now let’s think about how this started. You were reading your book and you got to this page about Hela,” Theo said.

“I know her,” he said, quickly.

“Okay, how do you know her? Is she your friend?”

“No, no, no, they have it all wrong here,” he said pointing to the book.

“Alright, alright, well how do you know her? Take a deep breath and think hard about it. Don’t let any of the other voices think over you.”

He closed his eye and scrunched his brow, clearly concentrating hard on this task.

“She… She… is my… daughter,” he whispered. “She is my daughter.” A tear slipped from his eye. Theo looked at him, squeezing his hands. He started breathing hard. His eye flicked around and then up at Theo. “She’s my daughter and I forgot about her. I forgot about her!”

“Oh, Odin,” she said, squeezing his hands. “Don’t blame yourself. It’s not your fault,” Theo said, rising up to sit next to him on the couch. She put her arm around him.

He put his face in his hands. His body shook with silent sobs. “I’m a terrible father,” he whispered. “To all my children.”

“Odin, I’m sure that’s not true.”

“It is. I’ve done nothing but push them away and lock them up, punish them for who they are, for who I made them to be. They all hate me. They all think I’m mad and foolish. And I am. I’ve been blind to them.” He collapsed into his hands again.

Theo couldn’t help her own tears at seeing him cry. She rubbed his back and squeezed his arm, trying to think of something to help him feel better. She knew that sometimes, when people broke down like this – which many of her former roommates had on this couch – it was often helpful for her just to sit with them and listen.

“I’m sorry, Odin,” she said, softly. “I can’t imagine how hard this is for you, but the fact that you realize that you’ve made mistakes may mean that there’s still time for you to fix your relationship with your children; that you can ask for their forgiveness.”

“You don’t understand, girl,” he said, shaking his head. “What I’ve done to Hela, to Loki…the eons of torture and brutality I’ve put them through… there is no conversation that can fix.”

Theo was a little scared by what he was saying now. She wanted to be optimistic for him and supportive, but she had a gut feeling there was something more going on here that Odin was not telling her.

“Well,” she said, her voice a little shaky. “We can only try. For right now, let’s just have a few tarts and try to calm down. Maybe, you can think about what you would want to say to your kids if they were here.”

He sighed. “I would want to tell them I love them,” he said. He wiped away the tears from his face and took a tart.

Theo looked at him sympathetically. She tried not to cry herself as she took a tart too. She took a bite. She was impressed with her baking. They tasted really good, immediately improving her mood.

“Mmm,” Odin muttered. “My sons would love these. Frigga, too. They loved Idunn’s apple tarts.”

“Do I do them any justice? Even without the golden apples?” she said, bumping his shoulder with hers.

“They’ll do,” he said with a little smile. He looked up at her. “Thank you, Theo.”

“Oh, you’re welcome,” she said, standing to get a drink from the kitchen. As she walked, there was a sudden pounding on the door. “Now, who’s that?”

She walked back towards the door, but the pounding got louder. “Hang on! I’m coming!” she said, shoving the rest of the apple tart in her mouth and swallowing it in one bite. She could hear muffled voices outside. There was a loud bang on the door that made Theo jump.

“Hey!” she shouted. “Knock it off!”

There was another bang and the door heaved inwards. Theo jumped back and reached for the coatrack. The door gave one last shudder before shattering into a million pieces across her entryway floor. Theo slammed against the wall beside the coatrack, as two men casually walked into her apartment: Thor, the Avenger and Loki, the alien that attacked New York. She reached into her coat pocket on the coatrack and pulled out a handgun, pointing it at Loki’s head.

“Do not come any closer. What the hell are you doing in my house?” she shouted at them.

“Father!” Thor said, stepping over the broken pieces of door to Odin who was standing by the coffee table.

“Thor! My son!” Odin said, putting his hand on Thor’s cheek. “Oh, my sons! I love you!”

Theo did not take her eyes off Loki, nor the sights of her gun. Her hand was steady, though her heart was racing. He was looking at Odin with brows raised in shock at his adoptive father’s admonition upon their arrival. He looked back at the Theo with her gun pointed at his head. He raised his hands slowly and gave her a gentle look.

“I apologize for my brother murdering your front door,” he said, slowly. “Please, allow me to fix it.”

He waved his hand and the splinters of the door began to reform on the broken hinges. Theo felt a wriggling sensation under her foot. She looked down to see a large chunk of the door wiggling to get free as if pulled by a magnet towards its comrades. She lifted its foot and it replaced itself, making the door whole again.

Loki stepped over to it and tested it, swinging it open and shut. “There, good as new,” he said. Theo still had the gun trained on him. He turned back to her. “Please, put that down. We’re just here for him.” He pointed to Odin with his thumb.

“He… He was telling the truth… All this time? And I thought he was crazy…” Theo said.

“Well, you’re probably not completely wrong. I’m pretty sure he’s crazy,” Loki said.

Odin ran over to them and grabbed Theo’s arm, lowering her gun.

“Theo! You’re breaking rule number five, young lady,” he scolded her. “No weapons!”

“It’s my house. They’re my rules. And I get to break them when GIGANTIC ALIEN MEN COME TEARING DOWN MY DOOR!” she shouted, pointing at the brothers.

“I do suppose that’s fair,” Loki said, looking at his brother.

“No weapons?” Thor said. “What kind of house is this?”

“Thor, don’t be rude,” Loki muttered.

“A safe one!” Theo snapped. “Now, explain yourselves right now!”

“My name is Thor, and this is Loki—”

“I know damn well who you are! Why on earth would you leave your father here to become homeless? Why would you say you would come for him and then just leave him here with no way to contact you?”

“That’s a good question,” Thor smiled at Theo. “You want to answer that one, Loki?” he growled at Loki.

“Homeless?” Loki said. “I didn’t leave him homeless here. I left him in a home. For old people. A retirement home. Where he could play bingo and mingle with old Midgardians and tell war stories and be cared for day and night their healer nurse-doctor people or whatever.”

“And that retirement home went out of business,” Theo said, standing on her tip toes to be eye level with him. “I guess they don’t have a mailing address for Asgard, do they!”

“So, what, they just turned him out on the street?” Loki asked.

“Yes! They had nowhere else to put him!”

“What kind of place is this? Just throwing your elders out like trash?”

“Welcome to America, sweetie. You don’t have the money to pay for yourself, you go out on the street.”

“Thor, this is not what I intended,” Loki said, addressing his brother. “All I did was strip him of his memories so he wouldn’t rouse the Midgardians’ suspicions, but I did not do this.”

Thor shook his head at him and rolled his eyes and turned to Odin. “I’m sorry that this happened father—”

“No, I am sorry, to both of you,” Odin said.

“What?” both the brothers said in unison. Loki stared at him with surprise, thinking he had heard him wrong. Odin turned his attention to him.

“I am sorry for how I’ve treated you, Loki. For the lies I’ve told you. For blaming you, when I should have blamed myself. Your lawless nature, these storms inside you; you inherited from me. And I would never wish that on another soul,” Odin said, tears in his eyes. “You are my son. I just hope that you can forgive me now after all that I have done.”

Loki stared at him, taken aback by his words. He had no words of his own. He looked at Thor and then to Theo. She crossed her arms, gun still in hand. He stared blankly at Odin, unsure of what to do or say or even what to think.

Thor too was in shock. He looked back and forth between his father and his brother.

“Father, I think you broke him,” he said, chuckling a little, putting his hand on Loki’s shoulder.

“I… I…I do not know what to say,” Loki said.

“That’s alright,” Odin said, putting up his hand. “I don’t expect forgiveness right away. Now, Thor, I must speak with you too.”

Thor wiped his nose with the back of his hand, trying to disguise his man-tears. Theo scoffed. Loki was still searching the room for something that could help him respond. He stepped closer to Theo while Odin spoke with Thor.

“What’s in those tarts?” he asked, suspiciously.

Theo turned her head slowly to glare at him, shooting daggers. “Apples,” she said, feigning hospitality. “And a bit of cinnamon and brown sugar. You’re welcome to one if you want,” she said, though a bit scornful. “And you didn’t answer my question. Why did you leave him here?”

Loki looked uncomfortable. “It’s a long story.”

“Start talking,” Theo said.

“I was not expecting this apologetic Odin. He’s never been this way before. Several years ago, Asgard was dealing with an unexpected war with the dark elves. My brother abdicated his right to the throne and Odin was, well, unfit to rule after our mother died. He was willing to sacrifice every Asgardian warrior we had to defeat the elves just uphold some old family grudge. So, I did what needed to be done and removed Odin from power.”

“Jesus,” Theo said, rolling her eyes.

“I brought him here so he would be safe. I removed his memories with a spell so as to disguise his existence. To keep him safe not only from Midgardians but other powers in the universe that might want him dead. I wasn’t expecting them to throw him out on the street!”

Theo shook her head, not meeting Loki’s eyes.

“But I am grateful to you, Theo, for taking him in. Thor is too, though he may forget to say so.”

“Mmm,” Theo grunted. “How did you even know where to find us?”

“Pfft, that crazy second-rate magician that lives on this island too.”

“Oh no, not him,” Theo whined, as a sparkling portal began to appear in her living room behind Loki. Doctor Strange and Wong stepped through.

“I know, right,” Loki continued. “What a knob. He made me fall through one of his stupid portals for thirty minutes while he tried to figure out where you two were. Man’s not a sorcerer. His magic’s more suitable for children than… he’s right behind me…”

“Hello again, Loki. Theo,” the doctor greeted them. Theo cocked the gun in her hand.

#Loki #Lover #God of Mischief #Submitted fic #submission #ragnorok #traveling-classicist #chapter 3

54 notes · View notes

izumisays · 4 years

Text

dear yuletide author

Thank you so much for reading this and taking part in this wonderful annual conspiracy! 

First of all, I hope you have a lovely time! If any of the fandoms below pique your interest, I’m delighted already, and ready to hear all the stories you want to tell.

Fandoms: Chihayafuru, Nirvana in Fire, Thunderbolt Fantasy

As for reading preferences, I’m happy with a wide variety of tones and genres, of any rating, ranging anywhere from lighthearted antics to dramatic casefics. But the core of all the stories I love has always been character interaction and interplay of their competences.

How the characters play off each other and bring out their best/worst, how they’d react to a divergence of events, how true they’d stay to themselves in a different setting – I love fanfiction for allowing us to reconnect with our favourite stories time and again by asking these questions. And there are so many ways to do it! To name a few favourites, I’m always game for POV hijinks, a missing scene, a casefic, canon expansion, backstories and what-ifs.

You may notice that quite a few of my requests lean towards shipfic – those, too, are welcome in a variety of tones – but I also tried to include openings for gen ideas if that’s your jam. Additionally, while it is not usually my top interest, I don’t have anything against AUs if there is something that you are itching to explore: I tend to enjoy them for a new aesthetic that fleshes out the favoured character dynamics in a new light, or a fusion that redefines the playing ground to allow the characters to exhibit their core competences in new and exciting ways.

I would be very grateful if you could avoid a/b/o and similar kinktropes, played-straight soulmate fic, and character interpretation that runs contrary to their core values. If in doubt, please reach out to me on anon - the askbox is open!

CHIHAYAFURU: Mashima Taichi, Wataya Arata, Suou Hisashi

You don’t have to include all three characters, but I’d love to see a fic that explores the connections between them better. I’m up to date with all manga scanlations.

Wataya Arata/ Mashima Taichi

In the immortal words of Henjin Meijin, Arata is that person for Taichi whose opinion makes or breaks him. (His wording may have been different, but if I go rummaging into the chapter archive to find the exact quote, I’ll end up binge-rereading year three into the night again, and then where would my Yule sign-up be?) (On that note, what kind of a MASSIVE LOSER waxes poetics about Taichi’s boyfriend problems to Taichi’s MOTHER, whom he JUST met? Suou Hisashi, that’s who.) Needless to say, that paramount opinion was not always great, and neither was Taichi’s general wellbeing.

Good news is, Arata is confident in his manliness, and he has no problem acknowledging Taichi’s ridiculously pretty and not too bad at karuta these days, and he’s also moving to Tokyo. Taichi’s definitely pretty and has an apartment in Tokyo, where a country bumpkin of paramount importance may possibly stay over until things are sorted out… eventually. Hint hint.

Jokes aside, I pine for the dynamics between the two of them. I nearly lost it, reading the Meijin semifinals — and if you can show me a person who saw them bawl as they crawled into each other’s laps on Japanese national television and didn’t bawl in response, well, that person is sure not me.

I’d like to see a story that lets them build and explore that connect. I do not object to eventual OT3, but I think Chihaya is on a quest to find her own footing and pursue other goals at the moment, and I’d really like it if she was allowed to do this (join forces with Shinobu to drag karuta into a professional league, girl!). I’d like to think that in that space, different bonds and relationships can develop and strengthen, starting with Arata and Taichi.

Taichi the overanalyzer, the hardworker and the looker, the golden boy who at some point surely hit that red button, meme-style: you will be perfect at everything, you will have everything, except the one thing that you want above all. Arata appears to be his perfect foil: steady and serene where Taichi’s scrambling and flawed, adorably awkward and disarmingly sincere where Taichi’s groomed, smooth and miserable about his own deceptions. But they don’t see it like that! And they keep tripping each other up so beautifully!

I’d love to read your take on them growing closer and hopefully smooshing their faces together. Roommates in Tokyo? Long-distance friends? Figuring out how to tell your flatmate you’ve been in love with him since you were 12? Established relationship while hijinks happen? AWKWARD THIRDWHEELING WITH SUOU?!

On that note:

Suou Hisashi & (or / - wejustdon’tknow.gif) Mashima Taichi

I cannot believe that ridiculous man. Did you see a grown ass adult swoon because his unrequited disciple I mean not-friend I mean Taichi just up and went to meet his relatives??? To help reconnect them?? One can do things like this?? What next, being able to make phonecalls like an adult??

Does not compute.

I was there, Gandalf. I was there when the story first indicated that we might be getting an unlikely team-up of the world’s weirdest Meijin and Tokyo’s most miserable overachiever. But even in my wildest dreams I did not dare hope to see them sprawled on the carpet on a humid summer afternoon, Taichi comfortable in his own skin and Suou, erm, probably not very comfortable with his fascination :D He did not sign up for this. He, a grown ass man in what must be his early twenties, is too old for this youthful seishun sakura bullshit. And yet it is he who mournfully accosts Taichi’s mom to talk about how this other boy is paramount in Taichi’s universe. He who gets offended because Taichi knowing how to adult and work the social ropes is too sexy and competent. He who finds something compelling in the painful struggle of genius and skill.

Arata - Taichi - Suou

For maximum indulgence of yours truly, bring those into one place. Arata coming to Tokyo and finding Suou a fixture in Taichi’s life how?! Suou being infinitely pissy at the Fukuyi upstart and yet dragging himself to socialize with the boys regardless like a totally-not-pathetic adult with a social life of his own? Arata being mildly puzzled about the antagonism, but in there for the sweet snacks?

You tell me! I delight in my anticipation.

NIRVANA IN FIRE: Mei Changsu, Xiao Jingyan

Is this a complex, narratively inevitable historic tapestry strangling people with its treads, full of delicious politicking and identity porn? Yes, it is.

Is my burning – nay, primal – desire so simple as to smoosh two faces together and watch them kiss? Yes, it is :’)

I mean, I will obviously not say no if the kissing is giftwrapped in the said tapestry of beautiful, politicky plot, but the fever I can’t get out of my system is this: LET THEM KISS, GODDAMMIT. LET THEM BE HAPPY. I welcome canon divergences, alternative endings, fix-its, insert eps and codas where it looks like they would have kissed (erm, or at least confronted each other in a way that would inevitably end with them making out) if only Mei Changsu wasn’t so caught up in self-loathing and fluffy foxfur coats, and Jingyan didn’t talk too loudly about his so dead, so very dead beautiful ex to hear Mei Changsu weep stoically into his beautiful white furs.

I adore Prince Jing. He is 90% cheekbones and 20% heartbroken pouting over his so very dead friends, and all of it noble and awkward and stubborn and deserving of happiness. Mei Changsu is ridiculous, and capable, and twisted into pretzels of his own creation: not above gloating over his enemies while daintily dipping cookies into his tea, he gets too caught up in weaving the tapestry to notice he is a part of it. Pull him off his high horse, Jing! Render him helpless by being yourself! Do something about being hopelessly charmed with each other, through resentment, loss, bitter pining, and narrative inevitability! JUSTKISSALREADY.gif!!

THUNDERBOLT FANTASY: Rin Setsua; Sho Fukan

I LOVE THIS SELF INDULGENT WUXIA NONSENSE AND I CANNOT LIE!

Sanfan is a mixture UTTER GLEE and deep fondness for the genre staples, self-aware and masterful playthrough of all the wuxia tropes in the book, and one goddamn well-constructed story. It plays the tropes straight, calls them out with a knowing wink, walks the tightrope between the two with panache, and just as you are relaxed and enjoying this trapeze show, it grins cheekily at you, sets the discoball on fire and pulls a bunny out of a hat. It’s DELIGHTFUL and fun and lovingly crafted, just like a good passion project should be.

I want anything that capitalizes on the absolutely hilarious dynamics between Rin Setsua and Sho Fukan (and while personally I end up using the Japanese versions of their names more often, please feel free to go with the Chinese names if you prefer). Sho Fukan does not want any of those heroic quests, he’s the human equivalent of been there, done that mood, and he just wants to REST and hopefully dump a bunch of magical murderswords someplace safe. Rin Setsua is a Totally Respectable and Non-Villainous Member of Society, of which he will inform you firsthand in the most high spoken and verbose way possible, and maybe even produce paperwork that has definitely not been tampered with. He harbours no ulterior motives, ever, and does not trail behind Sho Fukan for any reason beyond the pleasure of his company, and his mission to personally victimize and cockblock every morally derelict villain in two countries, by no-one’s request.

Whether you go shipfic (yiss!) or canon levels teamup circus (also yiss!), don’t hold back your horses. Everything about this is Extra, and should continue to be so <3

I am okay with both expanding the canon and playing with AUs/crossovers/fusions for this one, provided they retain the character dynamics. I love the extended cast as well: any characters including the Seiyou gang (and on that note, if you want to write the Seiyou backstory for Shou’s gang that has no Rin in it, you’re welcome as well), reappearance of the familiar faces from Touri (read: Rin’s victim list, past, future and present), original characters lined up and waiting to be screwed over (guaranteed) and rescued (the administration does not bear any responsibility etc etc).

Thank you for taking the time to read the letter, and I’m greatly looking forward to reading your story — and hopefully, getting to chat about these ridiculous and wonderful characters post-reveals :)

#dear creator letter #yuletide #yuletide 2020

4 notes · View notes

kanene-yaaay · 4 years

Text

Vulnerable

Author’s note:

Thank you all very much for all the support, reblogs, heart and kinds words that you give to me. I can’t call this a christmas gift, but I really hope that you like it and this small oneshot is able to light up your day! ‘w’)s2

Just like all the random ideias this came when I was doing chorus, because, of cooooourse my brain wouldn’t give me a plot when I’m free and with time to write. xDDD

Just a bunch of fluff with all the Light Sides atke caring of Virgil. I love to write these scenarios. sorrey words. No angst today. xP

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* Lee!Virgil and Ler!Logan. However, tickling isn’t the main plot this time. xP

* Hmmm… This is a fluff fanfic with liking for tickling. If you don’t like this kind of stuff, please look for another blog, there are plenty of lovelys and fantastic arts in this site!! ‘u’).

* Something around 4000 words. -w-)b.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any advice is very very welcome!

* Fanfics em português brasileiro (Portuguese Version) ! Thank you so much for reading, my lollipops! Have a wooooonderful day regardless it’s festive or not! Take care of yourself and of your family, friends... Everyone who is dear for you! Byeioo!~

[~*~]

Vulnerable.

This was a bittersweet word. Maybe a little too much bittersweet. It was that set of letters that provoked a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. That kind of set that if he asked to Logan to define it, would receive a very different answer from the one that he really felt to be the real one.

Weak.

He remembers his first days living with the others on the Light Side: spending a lot of time in his room, crackled his fingers with worrying frequency every time he got out from his place and ended up interacting with someone; was always fearful and, when this fear became almost impossible to maintain or hides and someone addressed him a word, the purple lover showed his personality abruptly, with rough and sharp words. The feelings beating, counting the seconds to see how much time it would last until they expelled him from there, because one thing was extremely certain:

“ – I-I can’t understand. – His voice came out in a mix of tiredness and anger, sparkling almost as hard as his sharp, frustrated look. – Why do all of you still doing this? Why are keeping me here? Why don’t you kick me out? Why pretend that I never did anything wrong?? – His voice stuck in his throat before he could release the main question, that one which made his heart hurt for keep it for so long.

‘Why do you treat me like family?’

- You are an essential part for Thomas’ welfare. – The voice from the logic aspect echoed in the room occupied only by the two sides. In truth, initially it was only for Virgil to be there. However, Logan just settled down a few inches away from the first one, a book in hands and deaf ears for the growl that came from the mouth of the anxious aspect. – Your vigilant and awareness about the reality’s state helps him to keep his two feet on the ground. Something that I am grateful.

And then he elevates his glare, taking by surprise the pair of brown eyes, which quickly deviated his attention to the wall, before hearing the phrase that let out from the other lips, in a definitely softer tune.

- None of us is perfect. We never were.

Virgil felt his body relaxes with relief. Absolutely against his desire.

He was not like any of them.

It took a few days for these first reactions to fade little by little. The urge to flee decreased and the frequency he went out increased. He stopped to throw out sharp and rough words to speak less often. He would let himself fall in the steps of the stair and stayed there watching his phone and listening music. Much because it was his favorite hobby, and part because as this he could easily observed (and mot of time unnoticed) the Light Sides interacting.

“- Hey, easy there. – Warm, loving hands gently held his own, and Virgil controlled his first instinct to retreat and flight, quickly recognizing Patton’s voice and gestures. Was it weird that in such short time he already could recognize each of them? By their voice’s timbre, way to walk, the position they had around him… Would it be weird if some day they knew that he already was aware about of all this? – You will end hurting yourself, son. – As the one who wears glasses spoke, he untangled Virgil’s fingers, since the purple lover was crackling them in five different ways since the beginning of the movie, when he was called to join the Family Movie Night.

The paternal side has a special skill to utter more than words said, and Virgil felt his ears burn with the blush that hit his face when he realized how deep, delicate and affectionate that phrase was.

- I am not your son. – Complained in a mix of grumbled and growl that only could be researched and pronounced with a lot of training. Patton laughed and intertwined one of their hands, the other one being free to ruffle the hair strands of the anxious side, who falsely angry puffed, breaking free from the touch.

- Sure you’re not, Hamilson! – Roman smiled brightly, extremely happy and proud for the reference utilized by the heart’s representation. Logan seemed be the only one who really was paying attention on the movie, and soon Virgil joined him.

Partly because the plot was really interesting and part because he wanted to ignore the sense of comfort emanating from his hand, which would be totally separated from Patton’s one if it wasn’t for the two little fingers that still tangled. Again, absolutely against his desire.

And, with the pass (a little more) of time (his own time) he changed from the stairs to the couch and started to do the chores by the morning and not just at dawn, when the others were away or asleep. He also began to smile more from Patton’s dad jokes and the little fights between a Logan without coffee and a sleep-drunk Roman, who didn’t stopped to summon the most eccentrics possible (and impossible) things in the kitchen.

Virgil began to feel equally comfortable listening to his songs even when he forgot/lost/gave up to find his headphones, and, as a thank you, didn’t complained about the 150 stories and/or performances Roman created based in each one of the lyrics. Even if those didn’t have much of that bitter taste from angst that makes the whole climax even more interesting, in his opinion.

Just as he felt free to lean against the back of Logan’s armchair, reading over his shoulders when realized that the one who wears tie enjoyed some book about astronomy, since the theories about of how the Universe and everything with it emerged, were too precious to leave the shame kept him from reading.

The sporadic jumpscares from the logical side as he became suddenly aware about the other’s presence were equally appreciated.

And, in the end, Virgil relaxed and lowered his guard enough to take a nap when Patton sat at besides him on the couch, either to try ‘just one more!’ of the thousands of handworks that he so much loved, or just to lay down his legs after a particularly hard day on the kitchen. Sometimes he would woke up when the paternal side softly pulled him to rest his head in his shoulder or lap (depending on how much both were sprawled out in the furniture), running his fingers through his purple hair from time to time. Sometimes humming something while working or sometimes let himself lean on Virgil for a small nap, too.

“Thomas yawed and it might seem, to anyone who watched from the outside, that he covered the other’s mouth, due how suddenly his voice stopped to excitedly fulfill the air.

- You are tired. – It wasn’t a question. Virgil could not detect the very tone of voice that stuffed his sentence. – You should go to sleep.

The bed where both were resting shifted a little as the human turned to see the hours before undoing the action until he could stare the purple lover aspect.

- It’s still early. Logan said that I should stay away from the cellphone for half an hour before bed.

No answer.

- Come on… - Thomas replied, his supplicant voice mingled with that puppy eyes that should have been considered a cheating so scandalous until the point to have laws to forbidden them. Virgil began to feel his barriers falling. Damn it. – You know you’re the only one who has enough persistence to keep me from picking up my phone and start to watch animals being cute.

The one on the hoodie growled.

- Logan also told me that the yawning is a sign that the body is attempting to stay awake, which means that your theories are so interesting that I am really trying hard to hear any and every bit o-

- Okay, okay!! – He prevented the other from completing his phrase, covering his mouth and rolling his eyes to the laughter that hit its moments later. – Just, stop with this… sentimental stuff. Urg. – And then withdrew his hand, both turning to face the ceiling of the room, seeing more than could actually explain. – So, where were I? Oh, yes. And that is why, if the aliens remained in the area 51 and it really was in Earth, the time travel…

…

And for some time they slept, but, as always, Virgil found himself slightly waking up when he felt the other’s arms wrap him in a firm and affection mixture that had probably taken training and time to research; and, even more surprisingly, the side on hoodie didn’t felt himself pushing him away or sinking to his own room, and yes relaxing and sighing comfortably. Soon allowing his eyes to close and both fall back into the Dream World.

It took a little longer to feel that he really could lower his guards. Talked more, without fear of being inconvenient, wander by the entire Mental Palace like a lost soul (he was really proud of the amount of jumpscares he manage to get from the family), sporadically visited the others sides to chat (but only when he was sure that they were in their room and in rare moments, just as he wished it were visits to his own room); and, finally, starting to realize, step by step, memory by memory, fight to fight, discussion to discussion and intern joke to intern joke which Patton’s card, the debates with Logan, the pranks with Roman and the conversation with Thomas mean.

Which meant being in a famILY.

Which meant being able to be vulnerable, to be himself, to allow himself to be attacked at any time, by acts or words, just for the simple and liberating fact that none of them would do so, and vice versa. Perhaps happened to exists some bruises, however never really wanting to.

“- You never showed me your room before. – Virgil uttered, part afraid to bring this subject up, but the other part, the most insistent, being too much curious to let the doubt arrested himself. His feet played, submerged in the water of the small river that crossed this part of the room belonging to the creative side.

- Maybe because you never seemed like a nature lover…? – The prince answered with a touch of doubt, as he wasn’t very sure about his own statement. In the end he shrugged, which was a little weird, since he was floating and keeping himself in the same place between the river flows by an only vine tangled in his wrist.

- Fair. So, you’re the type that is carried away by the appearances, huh?

- What!?? – With the fright, Roman almost lost his balance, trying to sit up before remembering that he was in the middle of water and not on a solid surface. For a moment everything became a mess of water being splashed to any and every possible direction, something that would worries the purple side, if it didn’t took more than a few seconds to the creativity side stabilize himself again, staring him as he has been slapped in the face. – Pardon me?? I am the romantic side! Nothing to me is more important than the soul, the essence, the heart! ~

Virgil was almost sure that it was some flirt in this sentence, which wouldn’t be such a surprise, since it was almost countless all the times Roman flirted with every side who simply happened to pass for him. The battle between him and Deceit remained as a historical mark in the Mind Palace.

- Mh hm. – Virgil replied, the sarcasm flying from his tongue with an incredible facility, something that the member of royalty was plenty used to. – Just a sec that I’m gonna be right back after fake that I believe in you.

- Take the chance and give me my cellphone to call and cancel that intimacy that you think you have with me. – The sharp look released by the one using eyelashes matched with his royal teasing smile. It took a while, as everything else in life, but both finally had researched a point where they knew the limits to play and teasing. Not everything was always clear as water (Ok. Maybe he needs to decrease his time with Patton.) however, one day the two would get there.

Roman began to suspect when, instead to answer with acid words; the purple lover really got his phone and started to type something. He swam closer to the margin.

- Hey, Roman. What does “Aqui esta mi numero” mean?

- … Heres my number. – Virgil gave what would have been one last click on the screen of his device, and then, from the prince’s pocket, a sound exploded echoing through all the room.

- SO CALL ME BABY!!! HEY, I JUST MET YOU, AND IT’S CRAZY!

The representation of creativity probably would jump something around five feet from the ground if he wasn’t in the river. With clumsy hands and several incoherent half-curses, even more inaudible amid the song and Virgil’s laugh, he took some great time before finally refuse the call, stopping 90% the sound, since the one on hoodie stilled laughing.

- Ha! Jokes on you, Stormcloud! I do adore ‘Call Me Baby’!

The purple lover pretended to wipe a tear from his eye, before staring at him with a smirk shining in his face.

- So, why all the fuzz to hush i- WOW! HEY! – The currents protests was due the vines wrapped his sides, seconds before drop him the water. The prince knew about the other’s swimming skills, so, his only concern was just laughing at his mate.

- ROMAN! – He emerged, a dangerous look glooming and leading a shiver rand down Roman’s spine and a nervous smile spread over his face. All his expression has an only message: - Run.

Survive Advice: If the aspect of Fight and Flight tells you to run, you run. Even if you’re in the water.”

It was about this same time he began to have these dreams, that sweet dreams, which, when you woke up, don’t feel a heavy feeling in the chest but a peace. Those dreams which he would wake up happy, refreshed, ready to open his eyes and feel joy for liking his reality. That kind of dream that was important enough to remember. Most of this kind of dreams involved the three light sides, along with Thomas.

Due this, there was no way he would leave his room is if he was sleepy. Remus had once confirmed to him that he really did speak in he sleep, and Virgil didn’t wanted to risk the others obtained this knowledge in the most cliche and weird way possible.

Which would be soooo much easier if Thomas wasn’t going back to the habit of sleeping at F I V E AM in the days he considered himself on a break.

Nevertheless, sure, nothing in his existence was easy, was it?

So, the second the purple lover opened his heavy eyes, he was aware of four thing in the exactly same time:

1º - He wasn’t in his room.

2º - A blanket covered him.

3º - His mouth was dry.

4º - He had no idea about what time it was.

Trying to remove the remnants from the nap rubbing his eyes, the representation of anxiety went into the kitchen, soon coming back with a glass of water and sat on the couch, thinking how pleasant his dream had been and that he should soon write down all the details to not forget the butterflies in tummy, which still persisted until now.

- You talk in your sleep. – It was not a question. It was a statement. Virgil almost dropped his phone, his body paralyzing for a second, the memories running fast and clear through his brain. Soft touches, smiles, that unbearable and yet so good sensation in his skin…

Laughter.

His face automatically burned as if he was making a tomato cosplay. With little struggling a look, part relaxed and part nervous, took over his expression.

- Is that so? Did I said something? – Took a sip of water. It wasn’t cold enough to soothe the heat that still covered his cheeks and not hot enough to dispel the cold in his belly.

- Affirmative. – Logan adjusted his glasses; putting the bookmarker before close the book and delicacy sets its aside in the coffee table. – Interesting, indeed; and enlightening.

Curse the day that the one who wears tie began to love mystery books and now liked to talk in codes. Who does he think he is? Yoda?? Virgil almost frowned for irritation, but wouldn’t let himself be carried away by the other’s, who carefully observed Virgil calmly lay in the couch with his phone (turned off, that’s true) in hands, game.

- I wouldn’t define a dream like that. – Retaliated with a grin. – They aren’t the best example of logic, you know?

- I do not believe it is more about the dream itself, and yes, what it represents. – It wasn’t his impression, Logan did approached some inches. Virgil’s muscles tensed. – Many times, due being from the human’s subconscious, the dreams can capture things that usually the own conscious mind don’t even realize. Unnoticed memories, ancient facts that seemed been forgotten… - Little break. The representation of Fight and Flight felt the blush increased. He knew. He knew, he knew he knewheknewheknewheknew!! And even worse, he knew that Virgil knew. The purple lover felt a smile starting to struggle to open in his mouth. – Unvoiced wishes.

The aspect on hoodie jumped from the couch in a millisecond, his mind clouded by the nervousness and euphoria, which started to took over his being just for the unspoken words. Logan knew about his dream. His secret desire that, even being relaxed and adapted and feeling loved around them, he wasn’t told to anyone yet.

Tickling.

The aspect of ‘Fight or Flight’ does not trip, Virgil was sure, however, the quickly approaching ground questioned his belief and, when his body collapsed on it and he turned to prevent Logan, realized too late that the said already has sat on his legs, an atypical smile in his face.

- Don’t. You. Dare. – Half smiling, half defensive. The one on hoodie attempted unsuccessfully to break free, until when those words came out from the other’s lips:

- Only if you are comfortable with that.

Maybe it was for the certainty with which this sentence was said, or the affection it represented, or the worry that showed, or even the dream he had before and the chase that made each one of his ticklish spots euphorically tingle with just the thought of fingers wriggling on them.

Maybe it was even for the sincerity and calm in his glare, as if he had said nothing much. Virgil opened his mouth for some seconds, but no sound came out. His eyes met with the hand on his ribs, the sensation to feeling they still being more unbearable than imagining them moving. His entire face blushed, which he tried to hide on his shoulders.

- Whatever.

An amused puff was the only answer from the logic side before his fingers scratched Virgil’s neck, leading the purple lover released a light squeal and pulled his face out of the hiding place, trying to protect the attacked spot. The tickles stopped, which made him open his, almost frustrated, eyes just to find Logan simply wriggling his fingers meticulously in the air, right above his skin, going from a spot to another while spread amount of electrics shivers through his nerves

- I wonder where I should start the experiment… Should I go up and down? Focus in just one spot? Maybe one per time should be the ideal, since you seem be too ticklish in everywhere… - Virgil began to squirm, stopping in the last second with as a frustrated grumble pushed from his mouth. Knowing the representation of the knowledge and curiosity, these wonders were true. However, the smirk growing in his expression make him doubt about that.

After sometime, Virgil opened his mouth, ready to ask for him do something (anything!), which showed to be a bad choice, since in that very minute the fingers met his ribs and a quick giggle let out his mouth, didn’t finding any barrier to stop it. The struggle from the purple lover (and, as it seems, tickle lover, too) to escape becoming a little stronger.

- Nahahahahaha!! Lohohohgan!! – The fingers were making circular motions in the upper ribs. First giving attention to just one, then two, then three then... This before his mind get completely messed and he felt the tem fingers hiking his ribs. – NAHAHAHAHA – Uuuuup. – Wahahahahahahahait! – Dooooown. – NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAT– Up it goes. – TheheheheheHEHEHEheheHEHEHEheHEHE!! – And now he went up and down and in random patters, focusing in just one side before presenting the same treatment to the other. Virgil hugged himself as tightly as he could, seeking prevent his arms to stop the feeling.

- This sounds like a good place. – The logical aspect continued, his calm and stable voice being betrayed by his playfully (and a little bit crazy, it’s important to mention) painted grin. His hands stopped, moving away from Virgil and giving him time to take some sips of air and struggle to not melt in giggles that escaped from his lips. Logan held one of his hands, delicately pushing it up. – Nevertheless I ask to myself how it going to be with this so well hidden spot.

- Lohohohohohgan! Nohoho! W-wahahahahahahait! – His face was bright by how huge was his smile, almost as luminously as the sparkle in his glare. The one who (always) wears tie (and sometimes a unicorn onesie) slightly ned his head, his free hand entering under the hoodie and giving small light squeezes in each one ribs where he slowly walked by, generating a series of laugh intercalated by squeaks and quick jumps. He tried to free his wrist from the other’s hold.

- Yes, Virgil? Is there something that you want to tell? – The purple side, who had the blush spread to his neck, just shook his head, without being able (or not wanting to) pronounce anything. His nose winkled and his eyes were lightly shouted down, maybe having the conciseness that the dark made him even more sensitive. ~

Logan began to trace with an only finger irregular patterns in his armpits, happily watching him curl up a little and put even more effort to lower his arm.

-Plehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehahahahahahase!!

- Do you want me to speed up? Alright.

And then all the five tickler fingers attacked all at once. Scratching, poking, wriggling, drumming and exploring every little piece of researchable skin to tickle from the other.

- LohohohoGAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NAHAHAHAHAHAhahahahahahahaHAHAhaha!!! – Now, the laughter danced more freely and in a higher flow. Logan keep the tickles for a few more minutes, switching between armpits and upper ribs. Since not know the next step seemed essential to get more shrieks and high-pitched laugh.

The logic side retreated, letting the representation of ‘Fight or Flight’ finally lower his arm and curl up, the laugh coming back to little sporadic giggles. When he opened his eyes again, Virgil faced a long dark-blue feather millimeters away from his bellybutton. His glare met Logan’s, noticing how equally his expression was with that crazy scientists, and wondering, for that brief moment, how his own expression looked like.

“Like a light.” Logan would answer if he had the ability to read the other’s mind. “Because it looks like capable to light the darkest night.”

“And…”

- NononononO!

He wriggled the feather into Virgil’s navel, who practically jumped with the sensation that hit without any warning his body.

“He certainly would be a warning to a thunder, or even the coming storm.”

All his nerves and instincts were laughing. Virgil was absolutely sure about that while his mind became a messy cloudy of laugh and happy tears accumulating in his eye’s corner. His smile went ear to ear and it was really impressive that Logan haven’t been hurled by the strength which he squirmed. The laugh reverberated in his chest and filled him with enjoy.

“An adorable storm, indeed.”

He stopped, because the loud sound could attract the others and the most rational side doubted this was something that the one on hoodie would like to. Give him some more to breath.

- My gohohohohohohohohohosh… - He still squirming slightly, wiping some small fallen tears. – Yohohohou arehehehehe ruthlehehehehehess, right?

- I believe that I was quite carried away by the experiment. – He lifted up the feather, unaware about the electric shivers running Virgil’s spine just by this movement. – I suppose that you enjoy light tickles as well, am I right? Would the neck be a good spot for this?

Virgil didn’t answered for a few moments, ultimately agreeing with a quick nod, and feeling the other rise from his, now numbs, legs. Logan readjusted himself by his side, letting the feather softly dance on his neck, tracing his jaw, which trembled for the small chuckles that escaped from the said, until this spot behind his ear, which made him release gaps of laughter.

In the end, Logan got up, going towards the coffee table to recall his book, before coming back together with the glass of water in hands, quickly handing over to the purple side, who still couldn’t erase the euphoric wobbly smile from his face. Seconds of comfort silent permeated between both. Virgil fight against which its representation before breaking it.

- Thank you.

Logan blinked, a bit surprised, before nodding, putting the feather in his pocket and letting a small smile took over his mouth.

- I’m glad for we share this… bounding moment. It was quite pleasant.

- Seriously?

- Sure.

- Well it was… pleasant for me, too.

Quick smiles. Happy glares.

- Don’t ever talk about this with anyone! Not even about the dream! – Sibilated.

- I’m afraid to not know what you’re talking about. – And the one who wears tie left the room, his amusing sentence still floating in the air. Virgil couldn’t help but smile one more time, absolutely against his desire, sure.

Vulnerable.

Now he understood the sense that this word could assume when surrounded by the right people.

Trust.

68 notes · View notes

relishredshoes · 5 years

Photo

Interview given to The Severus Snape and Hermione Granger Shipping Fan Group. (sharing here Admin approved)

https://www.facebook.com/groups/199718373383293/ Hello CRMediaGal and welcome to Behind the Quill, thank-you for letting us get to know you a little better.

Many of our members will know your Unquestionable Love series.

We’re grateful you can spend some time with us today.

Okay, so let's jump into it!

What’s the story behind your pen name?

CR is an abbreviation for “cracked rendition” and that comes from the excerpt from a poem I’ve loved since I was young. Years ago, to help put myself through art college, I did web design on the side and called my little company Cracked Rendition Designs. When I created my pen name, I combined all of these elements together to make CRMediaGal (for some illogical reason I thought it was a solid name at the time lol) and, to this day, I still think about changing my pen name altogether. I figure it’s too late for that now, though.

Which Harry Potter character do you identify with the most?

Luna Lovegood. I wish I’d had her self-assurance and confidence in who she is at that age but, that aside, I identify with how she’s a bit of a loner, an oddball, and tends to be left out (or does until she finds her Hogwarts friends). I’ve really struggled with being an outsider most of my life, so it’s comforting to see that representation in literature but through a young woman who possesses the self-confidence people like myself often lack.

Do you have a favourite genre to read?

I tend to love period dramas, so a lot of the classic novels are my favourites (i.e. Austen, Henry James, etceteras).

Do you have a favourite “classic” novel?

The Portrait of a Lady is one of my favourite novels. I reread it every couple of years.

At what age did you start writing?

I’ve been writing since I was very little, so probably seven, eight, nine-ish? I used to be much more of an artist/sketcher than a writer, so I’d make up stories and write and sketch and staple them together all day long lol.

How did you get into writing fanfiction?

After watching Deathly Hallows: Part 2 at the cinema in 2011. Severus Snape’s death hit me hard all over again (I hadn’t read the last book in a few years), and I decided that I desperately needed to change that for myself lol. Unquestionable Love is the first fanfic (SSHG) I ever wrote and it’s become an ongoing series, so I’m grateful to have gotten the “spark” to write fanfic from somewhere around that time. I decided in 2011 to try my hand at “fleshing out” my little Snape family that had been mucking about in my head for much longer than that.

What's the best theme you've ever come across in a fic? Is it a theme represented in your own works?

I’m a total sucker for the brooding, self-loathing male who thinks himself unworthy of love and redemption and the sunshine, kick-arse lady, aka Centre of His World, who loves him back to life. #GimmeMorePleaseandThankYou

What fandoms are you involved in other than Harry Potter?

I’ve written fics for Star Wars (ReyBen/Reylo is another one of my favourite ships outside of SSHG), The Hobbit (Thranduil/Tauriel), and Les Miserables (Enjonine).

If you could make one change to canon, what would it be? Do you have a favourite piece of fanon?

Severus Snape’s death (he’s NOT dead! #nope #denial4ever).

My favourite piece of fanon is probably Severus being Draco’s godfather. Regardless of where it originated from, I’m all for it.

Do you listen to music when you write or do you prefer quiet?

I used to need complete solitude and quiet to write, but nowadays I can write with some instrumental music playing in the background. It depends on where my headspace is at.

What are your favourite fanfictions of all time?

I don’t read much fanfic anymore, as it’s hard enough for me to find time for my own writing…but off the top of my head, I’d probably have to go with a “classic” - The Tattered Man (SSHG) by Aurette. It’s gutting and heart-wrenching and doesn’t have a happy ending, but it’s a hauntingly beautiful piece that stays with you.

Are you a plotter or a pantser? How does that affect your writing process?

I’m somewhere in the middle. I tend to plot out certain points I want to hit from chapter to chapter (if it’s a multi-chapter fic and heavy on plot, for instance), but writing is an organic process and I enjoy allowing my muse to surprise me as well.

What is your writing genre of choice?

A good mixture of Angst and Fluff (and nearly always with a HEA!)

Which of your stories are you most proud of? Why?

I’m proud of all my stories for different reasons, mainly technical milestones I was able to achieve with the writing or the emotional attachments I had to them at the time that I wrote them.

If I had to choose one (or two because I gotta cheat here haha!), I’d go with either Unto Their Own (SSHG) because the subject matter was so dark and took me to places mentally that were very tough for me to navigate (the fact that I finished that fic is an achievement for me because it could have very well been abandoned at various points in the story); or Unquestionable Love (SSHG), both the original and the series as a whole, because that story has my heart entirely invested in it. That precious family means everything to me and the story, from beginning to present, is my headcanon for the SSHG pairing. I really can’t see them any other way, though I’ve written other stories where their lives turn out quite differently.

Did it unfold as you imagined it or did you find the unexpected cropped up as you wrote? What did you learn from writing it?

Sticking with Unquestionable Love here, the original story came together mostly as expected, though there were a couple darker turns the fic was supposed to take that I didn’t have the heart--or the stamina, I suppose--to end up developing.

One of my dear OCs/one of the daughters was supposed to die at one point in the story and I realised that doing so would have ultimately changed Severus’s fate, as well as the entire course of the storyline. (There is just no way that UL!Severus would survive the death of one of his children, so I guess I’m no JK Rowling or any other esteemed writer who can just ruthlessly kill off their characters haha!) I’ve learned through writing this series that I can tackle subject matters that are very emotionally tough for me and that’s a good feeling.

I’ve also learned that I have something to say, even if it’s not much heard or well-liked, and that that still makes my storytelling worthy of being out there in the fandomverse; or, at least, I try to remind myself that it’s okay to exist.

How personal is the story to you, and do you think that made it harder or easier to write?

It’s intensely personal in some respects and those aspects are difficult for me to discuss. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be ready to talk about them in depth, but I will say a couple scenes in the latter half of Unquestionable Love were incredibly trying to write due to personal experience. I pushed through those moments, though, and I think that, because of that therapeutic exercise, I’m able to tackle other tough subjects in my stories more easily.

What books or authors have influenced you? How do you think that shows in your writing?

I admire various writers, mainly for the love of the language that’s reflected in their writing styles. Anne Rice immediately comes to mind. If I had an ounce of her talent, I’d write with so much confidence lol. I don’t think writers like her necessarily affect my writing style, but they’re certainly people I aspire to write more like.

Do people in your everyday life know you write fanfiction?

Only more recently. I haven’t really allowed any of them to read my work, as so much of it is deeply personal, but just being upfront with my closest friends and family has been a nice development.

How true for you is the notion of “writing for yourself”?

I think this is something, as a fic writer, that’s essential. However, I’m also of the mindset that fandom is about community, and fanfic writers want to engage with their audiences. We want to feel less alone in these wacky and often times complicated scenarios we put our characters through, and we want people to respond to them...hopefully, with a positive reaction.

That’s what it’s all about--interaction--and it can be rather heartbreaking, as a writer, when you don’t receive engagement because maybe your headcanons or takes on characters aren’t popular or are considered outside of the ‘norm’.

For me, I find it too crippling anymore to continue sharing my stories with the fandoms I love when they’re met with silence or hate. There’s nothing more soul crushing than just being dismissed or disliked or not accepted...and that’s why I’ve chosen to post my stories privately (for now, at least).

How important is it for you to interact with your audience? How do you engage with them? Just at the point of publishing? Through social media?

It’s pretty essential to me to be able to engage with readers. I absolutely love it and I wish it happened more often haha. I used to run polls and interact with readers on my fanfiction.net and AO3 accounts (both now inactive) and through my still active Tumblr account (http://crmediagal.tumblr.com/ ). I now have my own website - www.crmediagal.com - where I can fully control the flames and negativity.

It may be temporary but, so far, it’s working out pretty well. It’s made my readership a lot smaller but, at least, I know the people who are there genuinely want to read more of my work and won’t leave me hate comments. That’s so comforting and encouraging.

What would you most like your readers to take away with them when they've finished your stories?

A powerful message of some kind...remembrance...perhaps, suggest one or two of them to other readers and shippers out there.

That’s the only way our stories survive, really.

What is the best advice you’ve received about writing?

That you need to protect your “voice”, no matter how unpopular it may be, and that there is no one else who writes like you and that you should take pride in that.

I try to remind myself of these important pointers when I’m feeling particularly down about my storytelling abilities.

What do you do when you hit writer’s block?

Watch my favourite films or television shows to help re-spark my creativity. I come back to the writing when it ‘speaks’ to me. I no longer press myself to push out writing because, more often than not, the result is going to get tossed and reworked anyhow.

Has anything in real life trickled down into your writing?

Yes, certain experiences and people I’ve encountered in my life have definitely wound up in some of my stories.

Many of my OCs in different stories are examples of that.

Do you have any stories in the works? Can you give us a teaser?

I’m working on a new SSHG story that’s based off of a fun prompt from a dear, long-time reader.

It will start posting at my website - www.crmediagal.com - in the coming weeks/months, so if anyone would like access to it, you can contact me there.

Here’s a short excerpt:

Cradling his head in his hand, Severus stomped to his front door and opened it a crack, jostling the handle loud enough that it caught three people’s attention, the woman firstly before the others.

“What’s the bloody idea?” he snarled, shouting above them.

Each individual—two wizards and one witch—went mute and turned to stare from the neighbouring sidewalk.

“I’ll have you know that this is a quiet street! And I was sleeping!” When the guests next door to him, who were just towing the property line and about to get themselves knocked out, offered no response, he prodded, grinding his teeth together,

“Are you daft, you fools? Do you not comprehend? HEY!”

The two gentlemen, who appeared to be fresh out of Hogwarts—or maybe they hadn’t gotten that far in their magical studies, judging by the stupidity on their expressions—startled and nodded in unison.

“Yes, sir!”

“Oh, my...” the witch, in turn, murmured, seemingly more to herself than anyone else.

Severus identified her vacant, open-mouthed expression at once: she recognised him. As of yet, he had little recollection as to who she might be and didn’t give a damn. He kicked his door open the rest of the way with his boot, jostling the three near trespassers backward a few more paces, and stalked down his steps and onto his sidewalk.

That was when he finally understood the reason behind all of the commotion: one of the branches to the old oak tree that shielded his stoop, and had been there since the earliest days he could recall of his childhood, had crashed onto the pavement, cracking the sidewalk in half.

A part of his iron fence, too, had crumbled under the weight of the broken branch, and there was an assortment of boxes, some severely banged up, scattered across his property.

“What the...? That’s my tree you idiots hit! And my bleedin’ fence...!”

“I - I’m sorry, sir,” stammered the witch with wildly curly hair and worrisome brown eyes, hastily stepping forward to intervene.

“I’ve been trying to figure out how this happened—”Severus turned his glare on her.

“And who are you?” The seemingly thirty-something woman blushed to her roots, which he couldn’t account for, until she spoke in a faint, insecure whisper,

“Um, Hermione, sir... Hermione Weasley. Oh, gosh, I mean, I - I was Hermione Weasley until...” She cleared her throat and attempted to reintroduce herself, flushing in such a manner that it flaunted dainty-looking freckles that dotted her cheeks and nose. Had she always had those? Severus couldn’t remember.

“Oh, bother! It’s Hermione Granger, Professor. Surely, you...you remember me?”Severus went as rigid as a column.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake...” he blurted aloud before he could stop himself. Hermione blinked, taken aback.

“I’m sorry?”Severus’s shock morphed into a tight-fitting sneer.

“I thought I was done with the lot of you.”

Any words of encouragement to other writers?

Try not to get too discouraged by lack of reviews or not making the recommendations lists. Keep persevering and know that someone out there, even if it’s just one reader, will love what you have to share with the world.

Thanks for spending some time with us today CRMediaGal, we’ve enjoyed getting to know you.

#fanfiction #fanfic #pro snape #snamione #sevmione #snanger #hermione #hermione granger #snape #severus snape #snape community #writing

48 notes · View notes

therecusant · 5 years

Text

VLD: I Will Always Find You (1/?)

Author’s Note: So I just kinda felt like doing a little writing practice by doing a post-VLD finale Kallura story, as that was my personal pairing of choice during the show’s run. The “1/?” is because I don’t know how long this story will be, most likely 3 parts total as it’s not meant to be a whole fanfiction adventure. Let me know what you think, hope you enjoy :)

“When I learned you were Galra...”

“Keith, you can do this. The Black Lion has chosen you.”

“The Blade of Marmora can go on without you, but Voltron cannot. We cannot.”

“I’ll always be with you Keith and I’ll always love you.”

Keith shot out of bed with a heavy gasp, his heart racing and his body drenched in sweat. He raised a hand to his head and rubbed his eyes as they strained to make sense of the black that was his room now. It was late enough in the night that even outside the window to his right he could see nothing but darkness. Again, the young man thought, while pushing some of the black hair off to the side of his face. He had been hearing her words in his sleep for the last few weeks, on and off again. They were the words he clung to after she left. It was the only way he could think to describe Allura’s leaving at the time and he remembered the confusion and hurt on Coran’s face as he told him.

Keith always struggled to find the words to explain what they had seen in that realm. Her last moments, giving them all an invaluable lesson to carry with them going forward. She was always teaching them – teaching him – new things. He could never have imagined any sort of diplomacy in his future but here the former paladin was, staying in the guest chambers of a Galra-occupied planet to discuss the next representative of the Galactic Coalition.

Keith did not particularly care this time around, knowing how well Kolivan and Krolia were received by the Galra. They would be re-elected, as expected, and he would fly back to the Blade of Marmora to continue their relief work. He grinned at the realization he was doing exactly what Allura insisted him to do, years ago. Between the three years they jumped ahead to once the Castle of Lions’ entered the Quintessence rift and the two years spent in the Quantum Abyss, it really did feel like a lifetime ago.

She was right when saying he needed to join Voltron’s relief work but of course she was. Allura was always right, even when she was wrong. How much more time he could have spent with her was something often on his mind in recent days. Keith tried to avoid that kind of thinking but since her words started resurfacing it began gnawing at him. Time wasted, time they could have spent together much sooner.

His eyes had finished adjusting to the black, enough to skim over the room and see the framed picture beside his bed on the nightstand. It sat alongside his luxite blade as one of his most cherished belongings. Keith picked the picture up and brought it close to his face to better see it in the darkness. Her arm around him, tight on the red sleeve of the Garrison uniform he wore for the date. She laughed at him when seeing him still in uniform, despite her getting so much more dressed up for the occasion. It was his first and only date and he lacked any real experience in the area but she was so patient with him as he stumbled through the motions.

He originally planned ahead and asked Hunk if he would be willing to help by preparing a meal for the duo but his friend immediately shook his head. At first, Keith felt guilty. It was Hunk’s last day on Earth too, what right did he have to make such a request and take up so much of the Yellow Paladin’s precious time? Of course, he was wrong. Keith misunderstood the meaning behind certain actions often. His mother leaving, his father running back into the burning building, Allura condemning him for joining the Blade of Marmora. He didn’t give himself time to think and understand the why of it. Thankfully, Hunk made a point of it to say it was not his place to be a part of Keith and Allura’s last night together, even as a culinary expert.

It was for that reason the Red Paladin spent the few hours before meeting Allura to find someone capable of helping and ended up doing so through Colleen Holt of all people. Pidge’s mother grinned as she saw him, then glanced over at her husband Sam on the other side of the room, who flashed Keith a similar knowing smile. He knew then that someone had told the Holts about his date and found it then especially annoying when Colleen feigned ignorance to force him to say it himself. She even managed to get him to blurt out he’s liked Allura for a long time and always found a connection to her. His face had never been redder than that moment.

He recalled news of the date reaching Coran and the old man confronting him that afternoon, accusing him of trying to plot a Galra coup once wed to Altea’s princess. He was struck with an initial stutter, confusion and embarrassment overwhelming him, as Keith was hit with the idea of marriage. It was an almost foreign concept given his upbringing. His mother and father had never married and no one ever even knew they were together. He did not even know they were together – or that his mother was an alien – until nearly two decades after and a trip across time and space.

Coran’s usual mixture of silly-stern kept Keith nervous the entire time leading up to the date but he somehow managed to find himself outside Allura’s chambers at the Garrison and calling her name in sync with the knock. The immediate sight of her – white hair usually worn up in a bun let down to the long flowing locks that stretched across the entirety of her back, the earrings in the shape of two leaves, the pink dress that ran only halfway down across her arms and legs, he remembered it all so vividly – left him speechless. He handed her a Juniberry flower that her eyes lit up at as she held the pot close to her chest and smiled back at him before asking how she looked. Keith’s smirk widened in the bed as he repeated the same thing he whispered softly to her back then. “Wonderful.”

They had enough time – thanks to Kosmo – to spend the remainder of the evening watching the sun set on top of the Black Lion. Between them was a single picnic basket and inside a Juniberry pie Keith prided himself on baking, though he did owe the ingredients and preparation to Colleen and Coran respectively.

The spot they watched it from was Keith’s favorite place in the world. It was where his father had taken him as a boy after his first fight, one Keith easily won and was nearly thrown out of school for. He thought his father would be mad – and to an extent he was – but he lifted Keith up over his head so his legs sat on the shoulders and his hands rested on the man’s messy short hair. When Keith transferred to the Garrison, he ended up at this same spot after racing Shiro, a race Shiro easily won. It was his special spot, for the people most important to him. He remembered turning to Allura and seeing the spot of red on her lips that she quickly wiped off with a napkin when he pointed it out and how he snickered when seeing her frantically remove it. He knew he could count Allura among those closest people too.

The night came and they climbed down from the Black Lion this time – Allura was not a fan of using Kosmo’s teleportation, or the wolf itself – before walking back to the Garrison. They stopped by a dead tree and Keith remembered the way Allura walked up and healed it with just her hands before turning to him and telling him that, after all that happened, she was grateful to have met him. It was Keith’s turn to look embarrassed but he managed to compose himself and say the thing that had been on his mind for the longest time, two years too long. He told her that he loved her and she then returned the words before embracing him.

Keith eyed the woman in the picture frame as though he were trying to pull her out of it with his mind to bring her back but he knew it was impossible. Healing all reality was never going to be without a cost. He just found it hard to accept the cost was his entire universe.

The old man smiled gratefully as he took up the jar of food Keith held out and walked out from the front of the line, leading the next in Keith’s column to come up and receive the rations. In each container was a large volume of the same green goop that Keith and the other paladins survived on in the Castle of Lions. He remembered how just a little help from Hunk had enhanced it to the point of something worth looking forward to eating.

“Thank you, sir,” one of the men in Keith’s line said as he took his rations and turned around. Keith nodded, smiling, and then continued offering more until the entire colony had received their share. It was only a day’s worth of food but Keith had only been there to hand it out initially. Behind him was Zethrid, the muscular half-Galra former general, carrying a massive box with even more of the food goo, months of it at the least. She let out a groan as she placed the container down with the loads of others, totally at least three deca-phoebes worth for the group.

The people waved and smiled as he and the others got back on their ship and flew out. Keith normally took the role of pilot but today he was feeling a little under the weather, having had another of the reoccurring dreams. No, dream was not the right word for it. In a dream, you’ll see something. All he had were the sounds. The sounds of Allura’s voice, whispering to him as though she were right up beside him. It reminded him of the aftermath of Nacxella and the hug – more of a tackle, really – that she gave following his attempt to stop Haggar’s bomb.

“You look tired.” The voice brought his eyes off the comet field he had been eyeing from the red-visor window of their ship and towards its origin, Acxa. The blue-skinned, blue-haired woman was staring at him fairly intently, arms crossed and a quizzical look on her face.

Keith gave a small smile as she stepped a little closer. “Some trouble sleeping,” he confessed while turning away. He could feel her eyes on him even sterner than before and with brows raised to further emphasize her skepticism. It was a half-truth and Keith thought it better to give that than the full thing. He was sure mentioning Allura would only draw the others’ concerns unnecessarily. It was just a couple of nights in reflection.

Looking at the reddened reflection of himself coming off the ship’s window, he saw bags under his eyes that told him it was much more than a couple of nights. Acxa seemed to notice them too. “We’ll be meeting up with the Atlas soon, you should get some rest before then.”

“Yeah,” Keith nodded, his gaze back on the comets. He did not notice her leaving but soon Acxa was gone and he was alone in the room.

“Keith, it’s been so long!” Hunk’s hug was so tight that Keith thought he might break under the grip but he managed to squeeze his arms through the vice grip to reciprocate the gesture. “There are so many things I have got to tell you about!” A whimper came from beside Keith and the former pilot of the Yellow Lion released the hold on his friend to greet Kosmo too. “And hello to you too,” he laughed while reaching a hand down to pat its light blue fur. “Man, he’s gotten big.”

“And still wants to jump up on me,” Keith chuckled. The three began walking through the Atlas, passing by halls that contained familiar memories. The former pilot to the Black Lion glanced into the greenhouse Colleen grew the juniberries in and the kitchen unit where Keith learned to bake the pie. Then came the old rooms he and the other members of Voltron stayed in. He froze as they passed Allura’s while Hunk and Kosmo continued on.

“Go have fun,” she told him in that room after the ship docked for Clear Day.

“It wouldn’t be fun without you,” he wished he had said back then. It would have been different had he stayed instead. Could he have stopped her from accessing the entity? Would it have been better that way? Those were two questions he had asked early on after her sacrifice but they soon faded. One still gnawed at him though: what you could you have said to get her to come with you? Not for the entity, not for the war or Honerva or the team. Just to have another night, another memory with her. Why had he not fought harder to have something else?

Kosmo’s whimper pulled him away from the door and he met Hunk’s saddened eyes. “We…we should go meet Shiro and Iverson.” Keith nodded and followed.

At the brig was Iverson, Shiro and another man with dark brown skin and short hair, smiling welcomingly at Keith and Kosmo. “Cadet,” the former Garrison instructor began as he approached, Shiro following close behind.

“How have things been going with the Blade of Marmora?” Shiro asked, though Keith was sure he already knew. They all kept in touch in some way or another, through direct messages using the Coalition’s shared communications or actual video chats. In the case of Pidge, who had often become so consumed with her work she went days without sleeping – which would normally have been a concern, if someone did not know that was just how she was, the group would receive notification logs of her progress. She had gotten something called “CHIP” running apparently, last he heard.

Keith described their latest work while Shiro nodded as though it were all new information and not from the most recent message Keith sent out days prior to their arrival on the Atlas. By the time he was done, Hunk had already left and managed to convince Kosmo to join him with the offer of new treats and Iverson and the man beside Shiro both moved on to other work. Shiro, though, grinned all the while and then placed a hand on Keith’s shoulder when finished. “That’s good work you’ve been doing, I’m proud of you, Keith.” The two former pilots of the Black Lion shared a smile before Shiro then added, “Allura would be proud too.” It stung a bit, the sudden comment. Keith knew he was not the only one thinking about it but he never heard anyone else say it and that helped to lessen the pain slightly.

Shiro seemed to notice the subtle changes in Keith’s expression the same way Acxa did. His brows furrowed and his lip bent a bit, the bags under his eyes making his demeanor all the more noticeable. Rather than comment on the observation though, Shiro simply suggested that he and the rest of Keith’s crew stay the night on the Atlas which Keith accepted.

“I’ll always be with you Keith and I’ll always love you.”

He panted loudly as he shot out of the bed and grasped his head. It stung badly, like there was some pressing against his skull from the inside to try and pry it open. The harsh needling continued as he sat up on the bed and clutched the sides of his head, wincing. Finally, like an explosion, it let out one last jolt of pain before stopping and he grimaced before slowly removing the fingers at his head.

He was in his old room on the Atlas. Kosmo slept close by, at the foot of his bed. He had to be careful not to disturb the wolf’s sleep. Keith was not sure why he was getting out of bed but he left the room and entered the dimly lit hall. He trailed along it until finding himself outside the same room he hovered in front of while touring around with Hunk. His hand moved up to knock before stopping, realizing nobody would answer.

He entered and looked around the empty space, inspecting it as though he were searching for clues. There was nothing to find, he knew. Allura was gone and there was no mystery behind it. All he was doing was wondering what could have been.

His first thought was to leave the room right then and go back to sleep but his eyes fell to the bed they laid in and the thought of having spent another night struck at his heart. He inched closer to it and saw her laying on it with that determined but sullen expression she often had, the one they seemed to share. “It’s okay,” he wanted to tell that face, “you’re going to do it. You’re going to succeed.” Allura seemed to have always been racked with responsibilities and guilt for what had befallen the universe since the destruction of Daibazaal. She was always careful about how she described it though, once she accepted him as half-Galra; to condemn the entire ten thousand years of history meant condemning Keith’s incidental existence, which he already had done enough of himself.

He could feel her hand on his chest, telling him that she was grateful to have met him. That the War, the Galra’s conquest, was able to create something meaningful. Something beautiful. “Something wonderful,” he could hear her whispering again to him.

“I’ll always be with you Keith and I’ll always love you.” Her lips were against his and he could feel her body pressing against his chest, her arms locking around his back and the embrace as he reciprocated.

“I’ll always love you too,” he whispered to the ghost of a memory as the image of Allura in that moment faded from his mind.

#vld kallura #kallura #keith x allura #voltron kallura #kallura fanfic

21 notes · View notes

terriblelifechoices · 5 years

Text

Happy holidays, guys. I actually have a thematically appropriate timestamp!

(And, more importantly, I am DONE with my holiday crafting! Which is weird. I don’t have a project to work on for the first time in like a year. Obviously it is time to start plotting next year’s holiday crafting, but what the hell am I supposed to do on my lunch hour now? Do not suggest talking to my coworkers, for I am awkward and cranky.)

From Chapter 7 of the second volume of Timestamps. Yakkorat said: I just keep thinking about family holidays. The family, both blood family and chosen, keeps GROWING. What’s Solstice/Christmas like at the Graves household? I assume his sister’s family is there. Are Percival’s whole team and their growing families on the guest list? Seraphina and perhaps Marco and Grandmama? What would Graves be like having all his people under one roof? How would Credence deal with hosting such a huge event? LOL. Clearly, I have QUESTIONS. LOL.

And, well. That looked like fun.

Graves Manor, December 25, 1933

“Credence, my grandma is going to come back from the dead and haunt me if you don’t sit down,” Jacob said, exasperated.

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” Credence said mildly.

“You never met my grandma,” Jacob muttered. “You know what she’s gonna say to me? She’s gonna say, Jacob, didn’t I raise you better than this? And I’m gonna say, yes, Grandma, you did. And she’s gonna say, then why haven’t you told that poor sweet pregnant man to put his feet up? And I’m gonna say, well, Grandma, I tried, but you told me not to argue with people in the family way when they start nesting.”

Credence sort of wished he’d met Jacob’s grandma. He suspected she would have gotten along with Grandmama Genevieve and the rest of the coven. Anyone who produced a grandson like Jacob Kowalski had to be pretty special.

“It’s my kitchen,” he pointed out. “You can’t kick me out of my own kitchen.”

Watch me, said Jacob’s expression.

“Besides, you don’t even celebrate Christmas,” said Credence. “So it doesn’t seem fair to make you cook.”

“No one’s making me do anything,” Jacob said. “I like cooking. Especially for family. Besides, it’s not like wizards celebrate Christmas the way non-magic folks do, anyhow.”

He had a point. As far as Credence could tell, American wizards celebrated the winter solstice more than they did Christmas. Wizarding celebrations had less to do with the birth of Christ than they did celebrating the return of light after the long, cold dark of winter. The only reason wizards didn’t celebrate on the solstice itself was that not participating in traditional holidays was the sort of thing that stood out to No-Maj’s, and it was better to blend in.

“I like cooking too,” Credence pointed out. He even liked cooking the No-Maj way, even if using his wand was faster. There was something comforting about it. Magic was all very well and good, but every once in awhile a man wanted to enjoy the work of his own two hands and knowing that he’d made something -- that he’d provided for and nourished his family. Surely Jacob, who fed everyone who came into his orbit if they didn’t move fast enough, would understand that.

Jacob sighed. “C’mon,” he pleaded. “Let me practice my expectant father hovering on you, would you? Sit down. You can still help, as long as you’re off your feet.”

Credence considered that. He probably owed it to Queenie to let Jacob get the fussing out of his system now, or he’d just spend all night fussing over her.

“Alright,” he said, stepping away from the stove and letting Jacob take over tending the pot full of gently steaming milk.

Jacob added in a generous handful of Speedwell’s chocolate and a teaspoon of vanilla, stirring the mixture carefully.

Credence watched him work. Jacob had magic all his own. The fact that it didn’t manifest as wizarding magic didn’t make it any less magical. His heart and his kindness were magic enough.

His cooking was pretty magical, too.

He looked out the kitchen windows into the back garden, half-listening for sounds of distress. There was a lot of excited screaming from Gally and Ollie, who would probably be getting tired soon and need to come in. Arthur and Gwen and Lance were doing a fair bit of shouting too. The epic snow battle had been going on for nearly fifteen minutes now. Credence could hear Robert laughing at something -- probably Percival and Seraphina, who were ridiculously competitive sometimes. Especially if the stakes were as ridiculous as a snowball fight.

From outside, he heard Percival give an indignant yowl of rage, and then a faint whumph as snow exploded everywhere.

“Cheater!” Seraphina shouted back.

“A filthy cheater!” Lance chimed in.

“You’re just jealous you didn’t think of it first,” Percival said and then squawked. Credence suspected someone had hit him in the face with a handful of snow.

Jacob sprinkled cinnamon over the hot chocolate mixture and brought Credence a mug. Credence took it and inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of chocolate and comfort and home.

“You make the best hot chocolate,” he said.

“Aw,” said Jacob. “Thanks. Think I should dish some up for the hoard outside, or do you want to put a warming charm on it?”

“Might as well do another mug,” Credence said. “Olwen’s probably going to need to come in, soon.”

Right on cue, he heard Olwen start crying. There was a brief lull from the snowball fighters, and then Dindrane came inside, balancing Ollie on her hip.

Ollie scrunched up her little face and wailed. She was only three, and she’d had rather a lot of excitement already. It was about time for a tantrum.

“Oh, baby,” Credence said, getting to his feet. “Are you all tired and cranky?”

“No!” Ollie said, still crying.

“Of course not,” he said. “You want some of Uncle Jacob’s cocoa?”

“I’ve got her,” Dindrane murmured. “Sit down.”

“Is everyone going to tell me that?” Credence asked, exasperated.

“You’re a million months pregnant,” Marco pointed out. “So, yes.”

“Jumping Jehoshaphat!” said Jacob. “How are you so quiet?”

Marco raised his eyebrows and indicated the din outside with a tilt of his head.

Jacob snorted. “Yeah, no,” he said. “I wouldn’t have heard you coming even if it were dead silent out there.”

Marco shrugged, adjusting his hold on Gawain. “Trade you,” he said to Dindrane.

“Eight,” Credence muttered. “I am eight months pregnant, not a million.”

“No one wants to be told they look a million months pregnant,” Dindrane informed Marco.

“I didn’t say he looked --” Marco sighed and changed tactics. “You should be resting.”

“I will ban fussing,” Credence threatened.

Marco bounced Olwen in his arms and leaned in to whisper something to her. Olwen’s tantrum subsided, and she pressed her red snotty face against his neck. Marco didn’t seem to mind.

“Marco Ramirez, literal baby whisperer,” murmured Dindrane.

“I’m very soothing,” Marco deadpanned.

He said it like it was a joke, but Credence suspected there was a grain of truth to it. Children instinctively knew who they could trust. And Marco -- who was entirely unflappable -- practically radiated calm, which babies and children seemed to find soothing.

Or at least, his children did. But that might have also been because Marco was family.

“Is that cocoa?” Queenie asked, padding into the kitchen on slippered feet. She was wearing the burgundy sweater Credence had knitted for Jacob and dark colored trousers he thought she might have stolen from Tina. He was fairly certain they weren’t his, although Queenie was good enough with tailoring charms that he probably wouldn’t have noticed if they were.

Credence still wasn’t sure why being Tina and Queenie’s adopted younger brother meant that they could borrow his clothes. He generally only minded when Tina wore his trousers better than he did. He had enough things. If his sisters wanted to borrow them, that was alright with him.

Besides, it wasn’t like he hadn’t borrowed one of Tina’s hastily re-tailored blouses a time or two. It was, if Percival and Seraphina’s stories were any indicator, just something wizarding siblings did.

“Hi,” Jacob said, his smile going faintly besotted.

“Hi,” said Queenie, leaning in to kiss him.

“Good nap?” asked Jacob.

“Mm, still tired,” Queenie admitted. Credence had spent the morning commisterating with her over how much work it was to grow a whole new person, and he’d managed to convince her to go take a nap while Jacob had grateful raptures in the background. “But the baby wants cocoa.”

“Cocoa for two, coming up,” Jacob said.

“How’s the snowball war going?” Queenie asked.

“Winding down, I think,” Credence said. “Did they wake you?”

“I’d have put up a silencing charm if I minded,” Queenie assured him.

Credence made a mental note to put a silencing charm on Jacob and Queenie’s room anyway. “They should be coming in, soon,” he said. Hopefully the kids would be tired enough for a nap. Well, hopefully Galahad would be. Arthur, Gwen and Lance seemed to have the boundless energy of youth, in addition to being a bit too old for naps.

“I can go get them, if you want,” Marco offered. He accepted a cup of cocoa from Jacob and shared it with Olwen, careful to keep her from spilling.

“Let them have their fun,” said Credence. Gawain made a fussy sound from Dindrane’s arms. “Uh oh,” he said, getting carefully to his feet. “Someone wants his Papa.”

At fifteen months old, Gawain was not quite too big to hold, even with the disadvantage of Credence’s pregnant bulk, but Credence didn’t think he could carry him for very long. That was, he thought ruefully, one of the few things he disliked about pregnancy. He wanted to be able to hold his babies, and Gawain wasn’t old enough to understand why he didn’t fit in Credence’s lap anymore.

“Are you excited for Christmas?” Credence asked Gawain.

Gawain babbled at him. His vocabulary wasn’t very big, but Credence listened attentively anyway.

“That’s right,” he agreed, when Gawain was finished. “You’re going to have a good time tearing up the wrapping paper.” Galahad and Olwen both had when they were Gawain’s age. Credence just hoped Gawain didn’t enjoy tearing paper as much as Olwen did. Olwen had made the correlation between wrapping paper as a thing it was fun to tear and ordinary paper, and had torn the pages out of four books before her paper tearing rampage could be stopped.

At least she hadn’t gotten in to Percival’s office. Or his. It could have been worse.

“Story, Papa?” asked Olwen, squirming free of Marco’s hold. “For me and ‘Wain?”

“What story?” Credence asked.

“A Daddy story,” Olwen decided, which meant a Merlinian legend.

“Do you want me to get Daddy and have him tell you a story?” Credence asked.

Olwen thought about it. “Daddy story,” she said again.

“Alright,” Credence said. He stuck his head outside the kitchen door carefully. “Can I call for a ceasefire?” he asked.

“Aw, Tio Credence,” Lance said.

Gwen took advantage of his distraction to shove snow down the back of his coat. She was very much a Graves, sometimes.

Lance swore at her in a mixture of English and Spanish.

“Swear jar!” Credence and Percival both said.

Percival brushed snow off of his knees, red-cheeked and windswept. “I could use a break,” he admitted.

“Good. You need to come in and tell a story.”

Percival gave him a speculative look, clearly wondering whether or not that was a code for something scandalous. It would have been, while he was pregnant with Olwen. It hadn’t been with Gawain, but that didn’t stop Percival from wondering.

“Oh my God,” Credence hissed. “No. Olwen wants you to tell her a story.”

“Ah,” said Percival. He leaned in and kissed Credence’s cheek, rubbing his cold nose against Credence’s and then Gawain’s, making their son shriek with laughter. “Can’t blame a man for trying.”

“I can hear you,” Seraphina called.

“Then stop eavesdropping!” Percival called back. He took Gawain from Credence’s arms and balanced their son on his hip. “Do you want a story too?” he inquired.

“Oh, tell the one about Arthur and Cath Palug,” said Dindrane.

“Am I telling stories to everyone now?” Percival inquired.

“Might as well,” Robert said easily, trooping into the kitchen behind him. Lance had Galahad in his arms, and they seemed to be discussing who could drink more cocoa, which Credence suspected was going to end badly.

Percival looked around the kitchen and shrugged. “Well,” he said. “Alright.” He transfigured a chair into a loveseat big enough for him and Credence and Olwen and Gawain and cleared his throat. “A long, long time ago,” he began.

Credence conjured up a throw pillow and used it to support his back, relaxing into one of the few comfortable positions he could manage and rested his head against Percival’s chest. The familiar words had the feel of ritual, well-worn and comforting.

Ma used to make them read Scripture on Christmas. Even now, Credence could still remember the familiar gospels: Luke and Matthew, even if the exact chapter and verse had long since been lost to memory.

This was better.

#my fic #comment fic #Possible 'verse #The Graves Brood #percival graves #credence graves

19 notes · View notes

spring-blisss · 5 years

Text

30 question challenge!

Rules:

- Tag the person who tagged you

- Answer the questions tag 20 people

I was graciously tagged by lap-of-the-gods , the queen herself! ✨👑

How tall are you? 5′2 or 157cm (really short, really thicc)

What colour and style is your hair? Euh, curly (not massively but the shape is there) and it is now in a what I guess would be called a long bob

What colour are your eyes? A very odd mixture of brown and green, depending on the light, my mood, if I’ve been crying.

Do you wear glasses? I probably would need to, but nah for now

Do you wear braces? I did, but not the glued type, just a thing I used to pop into my mouth and take out at night

What’s your fashion sense? Middle aged middle class habitat kitchen type of woman or homeless

Full name? Georgiana. I have no middle name, my parents couldn’t be arsed lol

Where were you born? Romania

Where are you from and where do you live now? Romania and I now live in Brighton, I absolutely love it

What school do you go to? All about that uni life

What kind of student are/were you? I was literally A*, I have no shame, call me teacher’s pet woof woof

Do you like school? I liked it, I never agreed to the method of teaching that we have in Romania but ya know, what doesn’t kill you

Favourite school subjects? Euh, I guess the languages always fascinated me, I speak 4 and ¼ and then History was always a favourite. And Literature! Never forget literature!

Favourite tv shows? Peaky Blinders, Call the Midwife, Ekaterina (amazing Russian series) and euhhh I guess Family Guy and Bob’s Burgers

Favourite movie? Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit saga, Les Intouchables,Bohemian Rhapsody, La piel que habito - what can I say, I’m an international hoe

Favourite books? Anna Karenina, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, Animal Farm, 1984 and a non-fiction book which I have devoured I was so captivated - Her Majesty's Other Children: Sketches of Racism from a Neocolonial Age

Favourite pastime? Reading, cooking, baking, puzzles and coming up with fictitious plots for a dream life with my best friend

Do you have any regrets? Not one that I would be consciously aware of at this time

Dream job? It sounds silly but interior design bc sims

Would you ever like to be married? Yes, which is funny because I have not had a relationship that was incredibly meaningful but I think maybe that’s why I love the idea of marriage so much?

Would you like to have kids? Yes

How many? 3. I am genetically prone to twins so you know.. perks I guess

Do you like shopping? I enjoy the occasional debit card pleas to stop spending money

What countries have you visited? Not that many hah does my own country count since I’ve seen 85% of it? If not then Spain, France and Bulgaria. Oh and Moldova.

Scariest nightmare? As someone who suffers from nightmares on a more than regular basis, this question made me cackle. I couldn’t even begin to describe what my mind can muster up. But I guess the worst ones are when I’m drowning and/or dying and I can feel my brain trying to jolt me awake but I fall into a different dream of the same nature and when I finally wake up I am all cold sweat and crying. Fun times.

Any enemies? Nah, my skin is bad as it is without the negativity.

Do you have a significant other? No

Do you get along with your family? We’re like any other family I suppose. If you mean only my parents, we’re the best trio that has ever existed. The rest? Yeah, we’re alright.

Do you believe in miracles? Maybe? I don’t know, I find it gives people hope and strength to believe in something extraordinary happening overnight so I guess the miracle is being able to keep going.

How are you? I am so happy and grateful for my life these days

This was great fun, thank you for thinking of me!

I would like to tag everyone who wants to have a bit of fun and share their answers!

#ask me a question #question challenges #question list #tag game

6 notes · View notes

theadorablespderman · 6 years

Text

To Glory

Description: The score at Laser tag is neck and neck. With Peter's quick reflexes, the boy's are sure to win. That is, until Michelle decides to play dirty.

Spideychelle

f/m

Oneshot

Notes: Hey guys, here’s a little gift for the fourth even though it has nothing to do with the 4th of July! But yeah here you go, this was a prompt request on Ao3. Prompt: Take me laser tagging then push me into a corner, shoot me, and run away.

Also thanks to my fantastic beta @you-guys--are-losers

This was so fun to write and I hope you guys like it too! I loved doing it and I’m always accepting prompt requests if anyone has any! Also look out for an announcement later today about a possible new story! Love you guys and enjoy!

Peter’s team was winning.

Crossfire of red and green lasers assaulted Peter’s vision. He rolled away from the steady neon glow of a wall he’d taken cover behind as soundless lasers scattered around him in a frenzy. He could feel the coiling madness of competition urging him forward.

Peter’s best friend was pinned down a few yards away, crouched behind a sickly green alien statue. Ned’s arm was crooked around the statue’s base. He was blindly firing his gun, so not to risk shots hitting his vest. Red lightning from the room flashed across Ned’s body. Peter looked up, acutely aware that he was exposed to the room, as saw two figures curled around a pulsing wall. One burst of the light momentarily illuminated one of the figures. Sleek black hair turned purple in the light. A face of pure determination. Cindy. Peter couldn’t make out her companion before the figure rolled away.

Light flared in Peter’s vision, rendering him blind as he sprinted behind cover. Kitschy toxic waste barrels bit into his back.

There was the acute feeling of static, electricity a current of warning under his skin. Peter flung his head around, catching a lithe figure attempting to sneak up on him. A surge of anxiety filled him. He barely dodged the laser to his chest. The artificial sound—like a phasor—as it issued from the gun urged Peter to fire his own. The red lights of the vest lit up, turning white before flashing three times. There, he saw the face of MJ before her vest went completely black to the room. “I swear to God I’m gonna get you back.” In the storm of lasers and the room’s flashing lights, Michelle’s silhouette was gone.

Peter guessed he deserved that. He’d killed her—including everyone else on her team—several times. The girls-versus-boys match was close, but Peter had to admit he was keeping them afloat.

Peter rolled closer to Ned--now merely a silhouette, as MJ had been--still pinned against the alien statue. Finding cover close to the wall, Peter managed to stay out of the black lights. His shoes were offending white sneakers he’d been stupid enough to wear today.

Ned’s vest flashed, three times white. Peter dropped to the floor. Red lasers scanned nearby. Ned was feet away.

The bored voice of the laser-tag official boomed over the speakers. “Red team takes the lead.” Every light in the room flashed bright red before dying back into the mixture of flashing rhythm they’d had before. Ned’s ‘death’ had put the girls barely ahead of the boys.

On the balcony above, there was a concussive pounding. Feet beating the metal grating. It could be Abe, Flash, or any member of the girl’s team. The pounding faded away. The blood in Peter’s ears was thrumming, they had to get back ahead.

Alert eyes, barely glinting with light, stared at Peter. Diving against an adjacent wall to the statue, Peter dodged another burst of laser-fire. Two quick shots out and Peter watched two vests flash white. One on the balcony, one of the ground level, right in the middle of the floor. From the frustrated growl, he assumed the latter had been MJ. Something akin to smugness swelled in his chest.

“Team Green takes the lead.” The lights blared green. Died away into chaos again.

“Leave me!” Ned cried. “I’ve got guns on me from all angles!” The point meter on Ned’s chest was low. Peter assumed he’d been stuck here for most of the game.

Snatching Ned’s vest, Peter pulled him close, imagining this was battle. The clunky laser guns in their hands morphed into rifles. The pinging and swishing sounds bouncing across the room turned to gun fire. The damp smell of a dingy arcade morphed into the balmy smell of sweat and tears. Peter unleashed his determination onto his friend. “I’m getting you out of here! No man left behind!” With a firm shake, and a spattering of more laser fire, Ned nodded.

“Stay behind me. I’ll get you out! Most of the girls congregated on the upper deck. If we can get—” Another set of fire. Peter fired around the statue, catching the flash of a vest in his sights. Three staccato flashes of white light. A curse on the balcony that sounded like Cindy. Peter and Ned’s corner was suddenly no longer assaulted by light. “Go!” Peter yelled. He rolled out across the worn black carpeting. Landing on his feet, he darted a safe distance to a plastic wall of slime, seemingly oozing from the balcony above.

A tremble forced its way through Peter’s bones, alerting his senses. Ducking, Peter barely evaded a laser headed straight for his heart. He called out to Ned, who in turn set a shaky few shots in the direction of a gun poking around a glowing pillar. It turned from blue to orange. No white light.

Ned, electing not to copy Peter’s somersault away from the alien, merely ducked and ran. They both ended up backing a large slime wall. Holes in the slime gave Peter a look at their attacker.

Glowing pink in the lights, her face turning then a vibrant blue, was Betty Brant. Her gun was at the ready, yet she wasn’t shooting. It looked like she was waiting. Lights burst on the balcony. Green and red beams clashed in the air. Someone shouted. It sounded like Flash.

Over the roaring sounds, there was Abe’s voice. It cracked in hast. Peter could tell he was running across the balcony. “It’s a trap!” His feet pounded overhead before instantly dying. “We need back up! I repeat we need back up!” His voice cracked again and then was silent.

“Shit.” Ned slapped his gun against his shoulder. The thunder above their heads intensified. Feet pounded the metal grating of the balcony. Shadows passed between the cracks in the floor.

“Red Team takes the lead.” The room pulsed again with taunting red light. Peter growled.

From above they could hear a shuffle. Someone’s gun knocked something metal, creating a resounding ping.

Swallowing the pulse in his throat, Peter peaked out of the gaps in the slime once more. There was Betty, hidden under a pillar, barely visible between to neon walls. The red of her vest flickered when she moved. She was hiding, and Peter didn’t know why. Something told him MJ was plotting something.

There was a familiar sizzle across Peter’s nerves. He bounced on his haunches, ready, scanning the room. Light continually swept across their eyes. He could barely get a good look at the room.

More pounding above. Flash screeched. “Mayday! Mayday!” Green lasers cut across the room. Peter caught just the shadow of white light over a wall. Lasers answered the call in a clap of red and green

“Green Team takes the lead.” Flares of green. Bursts of adrenaline.

More lasers overhead. Betty was still a hunched figure across the room, never moving to take place in the action on the second floor.

“It’s a bloodbath up there, they need help. Run up to the balcony, I’ll cover you and be right behind.” Peter pushed Ned before holding him back for one last message. “Betty is over there behind that pillar, try and stay out of her sights.” Peter pointed Betty’s way. Ned nodded, readying his gun.

With the release of Ned’s vest, the boy bolted across the room. He ducked here and there. Betty stood. The red lights on her vest a beacon for Peter’s laser. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

How many people were on the balcony? Why was Betty a lone figure on the ground level?

Betty cut around, aiming at Ned. He dodged the fire. Peter was about to let his laser fly when his instincts pulled him away. Blood thrashed painfully inside his head. Peter lurched behind a flashing neon wall. He barely dodged one, two, lasers that hit the spot he’d just been in. He shot blindly around the corner. A knife of shock pierced his head as he realized there was a second person on the ground level besides Betty.

Peter attempted to see if Ned was okay. He couldn’t tell from his skewed vantage point.

Close to the floor, Peter poked his gun, then head around the corner. He fired three determined pinpoints of green light at his attacker. She rolled behind a drum of toxic waste. There was a flash of hair, pulled into a ponytail. It was a mess of kinky curls. Peter’s lips tilted up. He aimed his gun at a flare of red light bursting from MJ’s vest. Peter could see her bare shoulder, the wolfish grin on her lips. His pulse squeezed tight in his throat.

Before he could pull the trigger, alarm bells whirred in his head. Abe screamed above, “No man’s land! We need a sandwich!”

Peter and the boys had come up with code names for certain situations when they went laser tagging. No man’s land meant everyone one was pinned down and needing a sandwich meant they needed a flank. They could win this. They just needed to flank the girls.

Ned was trapped by Betty. Peter could hear the synthetic sound effect of MJ’s gun. Could see her laser hitting the wall. The floor. The shots were threat more than an actual attempt to hit him.

Peter took a calculated risk.

He rolled behind the adjacent wall. Purple light from the it flooded his vision. Overhead, one, two, three lasers fired on the balcony. There was a cry. A grunt. Someone swore.

Every light flashed ominous red. Green. Back to Red. The score was fluctuating so fast the referee couldn’t keep up. He merely bumbled, “Uh, Red Team takes the lead.”

“One-minute left in game.” The lights sputtered, white, warning of the time.

Peter couldn’t let them win.

Pulsating with energy, the room went still. Peter was electrified. His body, vibrating with adrenaline, cut through the thick air.

He could vaguely smell popcorn from the arcade. The lights overhead swung around in giant loops, orange, blue, pink. The weight of the gun in his hand steadied him. Calmed his racing heart. They would not lose today, he would ensure it.

Across the room was Betty, gun tucked into her shoulder, a smug smile etched on her face in the spooky blue flash of the lights. She looked like a silenced killer. Her gun aimed right at Ned’s cover. She was ready for him to make one movement she could fire at.

Peter hit Betty, a long shot from across the room. Ned bolted from behind his cover, up the stairs and onto the balconies. Betty’s vest flashed. Her laser died just as she’d begun firing at Ned. Peter ducked behind another slime wall, not taking time to evaluate his surroundings.

The room flooded with green light. “Green Team takes the lead. Five minutes remain.”

Peeking out of a gap in the plastic slime, Peter watched Betty drop her gun. Her vest lights flickered back on. Her gun continued to dangle, even after she came back online. Peter could just see her vest, her arms, and the smile crawling across her face. Her eyes flicked over to him, made contact.

Peter’s spider sense blared inside his body. “Oh, shit…”

The smell of popcorn turned bitter, burnt. Peter scrambled to his feet, gun at the ready. He was kicked back against the plastic slime. His vision burst. There was the black floor, the cheap shutter of the slime against his back. A halo of light around a dark head.

“Oh, shit is right, Loser.” It was MJ. Her black tank top and pants virtually invisible to the arena. Her sharp eyes tormented him as they raked over his body. The tangles of her hair looked like a triumphant crown glittering in the neon lights. Her sly smile seized up Peter’s breathing. Pink light hit her face on one side, died. Blue light hit her cheeks from the other side. Peter was dazed, frozen by her kaleidoscope of colors.

In his stupor, MJ smacked his gun out of his hands. Her body pressed into his, pinning him. The wall groaned. It was a sound Peter matched as her lips crashed into his.

The world zoomed in, kicking the air out of Peter’s lungs before exploding back out again. MJ’s lips were dry against his but warm. He could feel her breath giving him life. Could feel the lightheaded thrill of her lips dragging and pressing against his.

Her fingers wound into his hair, yanking on the strands. Peter managed a sharp inhale, clasping his hands to her hips, dragging her closer to his own body. The arena was everything and nothing at the same time. He was acutely aware of lights flashing, voices yelling, but nothing could penetrate him now.

Her lips tasted like tea and honey, and something musty and arousing buried under all of that. He tasted them the same as he’d watched the lights reflect off her chocolate skin. She was a kaleidoscope created by God himself.

Fingers pressed on the back of Peter’s neck, dragging his lips impossibly closer to her own. She was everything, everything, everything. He squeezed her hips ever tighter, feeling the sharp bite of her bones beneath his palms. Her tongue ran across his bottom lip and they both gasped. Peter opened his mouth, eager as he began to wrap his arms around her slender waist.

She broke away, leaving him dazed.

She was a blurred epiphany as she faded away from him. Colors still played across the plains of her face. In her eyes light reflected back darker. Richer. And that stupid grin on her face. The grin Peter thought was because she’s just kissed the crap out of him, grew into a devious smile. Her lips were still swollen, and the tip of her nose was blotchy from the kiss.

Her gun rocketed up between them. She pulled the trigger. The lights on his vest flashed white, blinding him. “You’ve got to be kid—MJ!” He lunged for her. Oh, he was going to murder her, or kiss her. He didn’t know.

Red flooded the room, the referee’s voice cracked across the speakers. “Red Team takes the lead. Twenty seconds remain.”

MJ dodged him, propping her gun towards the ceiling. Another cryptic smile. “To glory, girls!” Her voice was so loud, so sudden that Peter jumped. The room erupted in shouts and calls. There was an explosion of laughter and cries on the balcony. A jumbled sound of guns firing, and red lasers cut across the top half of the room. Peter saw three separate bursts of white lights against the walls. He knew immediately that the boys had lost. That the girls had set them up.

He had no doubt that MJ was the mastermind behind everything.

“What the hell was all that, MJ?” Peter growled, letting the world crash back into him. The lights were nearly strobing now. A countdown from ten was blasting in the arena. Peter couldn’t seem to move his arms anymore, starting to wonder if MJ’s kiss had meant anything at all. She seemed so unaffected by it.

“Me winning, Loser. I told you I’d get you!”

He set his jaw, letting the truth crash over him.

That was, at least, until MJ came within a few inches of him, again, leaning her lips down just enough to brush against his own. His skin was burning from the inside out. The heat in his face was unbearable. “Of course, that doesn’t mean that I didn’t set this whole plan up just so I could kiss you.” Every word her lips formed around brushed against Peter’s. He made a move to fully kiss her again, feeling a writhing sense of frustration deep in his gut. God, he wanted to get her back.

MJ yanked her head away at the last minute. She was already bounding away from him, cackling. “Bye, Loser.” She called it over her shoulder, disappearing into the concoction of lights flashing erratically while the time ticked to a close. The horn blared, the game over.

“Red Team takes the game!” The speakers blared.

Peter couldn’t bring himself to care, his mind still frozen in the memory of the kiss.

Every light was frozen in the color they’d been when the time stopped. Peter could see MJ walking to the door through the patchwork of light. The rest of their friends followed her. “This isn’t over!” He shouted around the knot in his throat. Heat writhed deep inside him, watching MJ’s hips sway through the door.

“I certainly hope it’s not!” Her voice filtered back to him, the only promise he needed. A smile took over his face and he finally moved to exit with his friends.

To glory, indeed.

#spideychelle #spiderman #spiderman homecoming #spider-man: homecoming #spider-man #marvel #fanfiction #fandom #mcu #lasertag #prompt #requests #michelle jones #michelle/peter #peter parker #peter parker/ michelle jones #ned leeds

111 notes · View notes

mimiplaysgames · 6 years

Text

Beloved Memories, in Notes (Vol. I)

Fandom: Pre-Birth by Sleep Rating: T Pairing: Terra/Aqua Other characters: Ventus, Master Eraqus Word Count: 5,675 One-shot (part of a series) Fluff / Hurt/Comfort / Mutual Pining

Summary: Aqua and Terra have been friends for a long time, endlessly practicing and studying for the cultivation of their efforts - the title of Keyblade Master. While their relationship has always been comfortable and close, Aqua realizes that the way she has been seeing him has been changing. Now, she is left with trying to define what that means.

AO3 FF.net

A/N: This series will be a supplement to my longform fic, Strength to Protect the Things That Matter. It is designed to be enjoyed by itself, but consider that it also acts as a prequel to that one, too.

For readers of my other fic, this series should enrich that experience, especially those wanting more backstory. That being said, this particular volume will be tied to Chapter 13.

I really hope this is enjoyable! Please send me thoughts. I have ideas for a Volume II (and I promise it will not be as gargantuan as this, lol!). I am taking ideas for more volumes, so if you have any suggestions or questions you want answered about them (or like headcanons), shoot me a message. Anything not already planned as fluff for the main fanfic will be posted as part of this series.

The photographs-in-book scene was written to James Horner’s “Flying Forward in Time,” from We’re Back! A Dinosaur’s Tale. Aqua’s gift scene was written to Daniel Licht’s “The Wedding,” from Dexter Season 2/3.

A Tale of Awareness

It was the aroma of the ginger tea and his touch that awoke her.

Aqua had slumped over a desk in the library, on top of an open book when Terra stopped by with some of his own brewed mixture. He rustled through her hair to wake her.

She took a sharp inhale, rubbed her eyes, and found the tea that he offered her. He shook his head gently with a tsk-tsk, as though to say that she was being naughty by sleeping on her studies.

But this was always their flow. Genuine support for each other that hid behind constant teasing.

Aqua gave a slight hum as she drank it, which was strong in the kick of flavor, and she was grateful he brought it to her. Yet this was to be expected. He always brought her tea late at night.

“Where is Ven?” she asked.

“Out slaying some dragon.” He took a seat in front of her.

“I think I’m too tired for your sass, tonight,” she said, her voice raspy.

Terra let out a soft laugh. “In his dreams, tucked away in his bed.” He smiled at her, and this woke her up a little more than the tea did.

He brought a couple of his own books and opened one, although he paid no attention to it.

“Whatever you were reading must have been so exciting,” he said.

Aqua placed her hand on the page she was on and closed the book to reveal a large leather cover with carved designs.

“The Affairs of the Heart,” she read.

“How romantic.” His eyes were focused on the page in front of him, but his attention was clearly somewhere else.

“Like you’d know. Have you even read this one? It’s one of our mandatories.”

Terra looked up at her, his gaze focused and confident. He had that small, adorable smirk she always knew him to carry whenever he was going to start getting cocky.

“Ye heart is delicate and tangible, and thou must lifteth ye Key-sword bequeathed to ye in honor, for thy Key-sword shall ne’er be wielded to perform betwixt lyght and dark,” he said as he enunciated his words in order to sound fancy.

Aqua tried to control her laughter but it came out instead as a snort.

“And all ye Key-sword bless-ed shall journey on behalf of the lyght, yea verily, and bringeth peace instilled upon all thine hearts shared,” he continued as she laughed.

“That sounds pretty much right,” she said.

“I guess so, I think I made half of that up.”

“You want to see what I found?” she asked, her eyes lighting up. She grabbed a book from a stack that she built next to her. Terra took the same mug he offered her and drank a large gulp.

She sifted through the pages and then turned the book towards him.

“Look at this,” she said as she pointed to a specific spice among a list of them.

Terra tried to read the word out loud, but had trouble with it.

“Turmeric,” she corrected. “Apparently, I can make a cake with this.”

He was intrigued. “A spice cake?”

Aqua relished at his interest, always needing an opportunity to share this kind of excitement with him.

“Yes! And look here. There is this interesting spice...” she turned the book back towards her. “Hy-sso-pus. Hyssopus. It seems like I can use this one to mix with others for our meat dishes or something.”

She continued. “Oh! And another one...” She quickly turned some pages. “Annatto.”

“Where would you find all of these?” He set the mug down.

Aqua sighed. “Somewhere out there.” She gestured with her head to the stars outside the large, ornate windows of the library. “It would probably take me years to find them, but I would love to be able to play with them now.”

Terra let out a small half-sigh, half-chuckle. “Maybe when you are allowed to go on your own missions next year, you’ll have the time to search for them.”

Terra was eighteen, while Aqua was seventeen. They had just passed their preliminary exams, and were on their way to take their Mark of Mastery the next year. For now, he was allowed to go on missions by himself because he was older.

Aqua smiled as she leaned onto both of her hands. “You nervous about your first mission?”

Terra let his mouth hang, carefully considering his words.

“We’ll see how I feel tomorrow,” he finally said.

The next morning, Aqua and Ventus waited in the castle foyer, hoping to get a chance to give Terra a good-luck parting.

It seemed like forever before he finally made his way to say good-bye.

“What’s the mission?” Ventus asked excitedly.

Terra held up a small card with some notes. “I have to keep watch over a mother elephant and her calf who are working in an abusive circus.”

“That sounds pretty easy, you got this!” Ventus said, his eyes glistening. He had always thought of Terra as the most amazing person he had ever met.

“I’m sure you’ll do great,” Aqua said. It did sound easy, and she suspected there was probably a lesson behind it as well if the Master chose this for him. “Do you know how long you’ll be gone?”

“Long enough to get the job done,” Terra said as he exhaled slowly.

Which shouldn’t take that long. As he boarded his glider and drifted off to the sky, Aqua took notice of the silence left behind once she couldn’t hear the hum of his flying anymore. It will probably be just a day or two. No big deal.

That presence stayed with her, however. There was suddenly no one to study with her late at night when Ventus was asleep. No one to distract her from those books and start conversations that could sometimes last for hours. She made breakfast for one less person. She sparred more often with Ventus, who was skilled enough to keep up with her.

However, her equal wasn’t there to challenge her when she needed it.

He wasn’t there to joke about her faltering form when she tried to counter his incredibly strong attacks. He wasn’t there to try to psyche her out with his incessant provoking. He wasn’t there to give her earnest praises every time they finished a duel, or discuss techniques to get better.

Ventus teased her as well, but the way it was done with Terra was different. For a friend that she has known since she was eight, growing up with him meant she knew every twitch he showed on his face. It meant she understood him perfectly well, possibly better than he understood himself. They used to be inseparable.

But it wasn’t just that. On the third night he was gone, when she brewed her own tea and didn’t like the taste of it, she caught herself thinking of his deep-blue eyes and strong jawline. I’m being silly. He’ll be back soon. There’s no need for this...

The morning after, she looked outside the window from the foyer, to see him flying back. Her heart beating on her chest and a smile beaming on her face, she ran over to the entrance, but stopped short after what she witnessed.

Terra stormed into the castle, his eyes red. He looked at her for just a moment, a look of complete despair on his face, and he continued on without breaking his stride or saying anything to her.

She followed him to the library.

“Terra, what happened?”

Terra threw some books onto their table, and opened one while he maniacally flipped through some pages.

“I just need to study a little,” he said curtly.

Just like him to get distant and snarky when he got upset.

“What good is studying going to do for you now?” she asked.

“Just... something...” Frustrated, desperate.

“... What happened to the elephants?”

The question made him stop his frantic search through his books, and he took a deep inhale. It looked as though he was trying to stop himself from crying.

“I agreed to work for the circus,” he said, his voice shaking. “I made sure I was tasked at taking care of them. And I did. I took care of her, made sure she was fed and clean. The little one felt comfortable around me and we played everyday.”

He put his hand to his face as he continued. “But the little one was born with very... large ears. Some kids were picking on him during a show, and the mother got so upset.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “She attacked the humans in defense of her baby. I understood why, and I tried to stop her. I tried to help my co-workers stop her, but...”

He turned around and leaned back on the table, his hands splayed out over the surface. “The ringleader decided to separate them. They locked her up in all of these chains. She couldn’t even walk in her cage.” He regained some composure to keep his voice calm. “They made the little one into a clown. To be made fun of every night while he food was thrown at him. He won’t even play with me anymore.”

Aqua didn’t realize her eyes were watering. She walked over to his side, and leaned back on the table with him.

“What kind of monster would do that to a mother?” he said.

“You’re right, he’s a monster.” She knew how sensitive Terra was. He was strong, and he was optimistic about his endeavors, and probably a little too often he would overestimate his abilities. These kinds of events were things that Terra always took so personally.

“They are so lucky they have someone like you to care about them,” she said softly. “You’ll find a way to help them. But you won’t find the answer in these books.”

Terra kept his gaze towards the floor, refusing to look at her. It wasn’t just that he was sensitive. She knew that he often felt embarrassed over his failures, as if it would taint his reputation. Not that he needed to impress her of all people, but it didn’t make sense that he felt he should anyway.

He looked utterly defeated. He whispered, “what is the Master going to say?”

There wasn’t a good answer to that, except to gently put her hand over his. She wanted him to relax, and realized that she was the one who couldn’t when she felt his thumb hold her fingers. The movement made her stomach flutter, as if she yearned for the touch. She missed him, yes, but this much?

She squeezed him a little, which prompted him to turn his hand upward so that she can hold it. His hand was warm, and she saw him lean toward her, although he kept his stare towards the floor.

Her thoughts lingered on his touch. They had held hands before, plenty of times in fact. Mostly to guide each other when they were hiking dangerous terrain, or when they were children so that they wouldn’t get separated.

They actually used to touch each other much more often. They used to wrestle when they played. As they got older though, that became awkward. He would call it less appropriate, and never initiated it again. By that point, they were older and were more interested in perfecting their fighting techniques, so it wasn’t something either of them missed.

It didn’t register to her how long they had been holding hands in silence until she heard the Master walk into the library.

“Terra,” he called out.

Terra quickly slipped his hand out of hers as he faced his Master, his posture erect in military style.

“Yes, Master.” He had wiped any evidence of sadness or anxiety from his voice, as he usually did to appear like he was in control.

“We shall talk in my office,” Eraqus said before leaving the library.

“Yes, sir,” Terra said as he followed.

Aqua leaned on that table by herself, looking at her hand while her heart beat a little harder.

“How did Terra not beat that guy up?” Ventus asked as Aqua filled him in about the ringleader. The two were dusting the hallways of the second floor. Every day there was a chore to do. It couldn’t be helped in a castle so large with so little residents.

“How is he, anyway?” he asked her.

Aqua shook her head. “You know what he’s like. He’s completely wrecked over the calf.”

Terra had been in the Master’s office for quite a while now, and the chores were a distraction when they grew tired of waiting for him. It took a couple of hours before they finally finished, and thought to take a break outside. It was then that they saw him head down the entrance hall and out the front entrance.

“Terra!” Ventus called out, but it was too late as the doors slammed shut. “He didn’t even say goodbye.”

Normally he would, so what happened?

Aqua walked downstairs as Ventus followed, to see the Master standing there.

“Master?” she asked.

“I have instructed Terra to not come back until his mission to free the elephants is complete,” Eraqus said, walking back toward his office as though nothing pressing had happened.

"Sir?” she asked after him.

“He needs to learn to juggle his setbacks. Life is not always going to be easy for him, especially as a Keyblade bearer.” He wrapped his hands behind his back, pensive but strong on his word in a hierarchy where what he said was law. There wasn’t a point to stand up to him.

And an order like that wouldn’t make Terra feel any better about himself.

“You’re such a worry wort,” Ventus said, breaking the silence as she stood there thinking to herself.

“Don’t tell me you aren’t.”

“Just a little, but it’s Terra. He can handle it. I swear, your worrying is going to bite back at you hard one day.”

Aqua gazed out the window of the library four days later, sitting on her usual spot, with the same open book - but unable to concentrate. The day was bright and the sky full of clouds, yet there was no overcast. A good day to spend outside instead of stuffing her mind with words, but she preferred to finished her responsibilities guilt-free. She just wasn’t doing a good job of that.

Ventus sat across from her. The seat directly in front of her was too special, too reserved for Terra, for him to take it. He also had an open book and attempted to finish an essay. Instead, he just fiddled with the pen, and it smacked against the table over and over.

“Ugh, Aqua, save me from myself.” Ventus tossed the pen aside.

“You really need to learn a bit of patience.”

“You really need to learn a bit of patience.” His voice became shrill so he could pass as sounding like a girl. “I should be rewarded for spending at least ten minutes reading this stupid thing. It’s so much better when Master reads things to me.”

He looked at the book she was reading, with its archaic language. “I really don’t look forward to reading that,” he said. A moment of silence, and then he stood up from his chair. “I’m going to train a little.”

“Ven.”

“Just for, like, ten minutes. I can’t stand sitting here any longer.”

Aqua shook her head as he walked away. It meant that her, or in the usual case Terra when he was still around, would have to sit with him at the last minute to finish the essay before the deadline.

Alone, she had nothing else to do but to tend to her book, finding a flow so she could let the words pass by. She didn’t bother to check the time when she heard footsteps behind her.

“You done procrastinating, Ven?” she called out, only to see Terra stand in front of her with a mug of tea, and a large stain on his shirt.

“As you can see,” he said as he pulled on the fabric, “Ven already assaulted me with a hug, with not a care in the world what I was holding.” He gave his usually sheepish smile, in so much better spirits than the last time she saw him.

“Terra!” The surprise was well-welcomed, and she knew she had the goofiest grin across her face. But she didn’t care. “You have to tell me how it went!”

He sat in front of her. Finally, a sense of normalcy.

His response was a smile, and she said, “so it went well?”

He nodded. “I tried to get him out of his shell. I even helped him visit his mother, although I had to cut it short. It was awful, taking him away from her. But eventually, I got him to open up after... well...” he shrugged a little, his eyes darting around like he was about to admit a secret. “Is it bad to get an elephant a little drunk?”

“Terra!”

“It was an accident, I promise.” He held his hand up as if he was vowing. “But it worked,” he added, searching the library for anyone who might have been listening in.

Aqua took the mug he set aside for himself and sipped his tea. Delicious. Things were finally back to where they belong.

“Anyway, they are back together,” he said. “Mother and calf. He became an overnight sensation with a new act we setup together and they are out of the circus and are onward to better show business.”

“That’s so wonderful. What did you guys plan?” She took another sip.

“It wasn’t me, really, it was him. He can fly. Now I can say that I’ve seen just about everything.”

She nearly spit the tea out. “Terra. A flying elephant? Ridiculous.” Always him to be making fun of her even when she seriously needed to hear good news.

Terra’s eyes widened as he laughed out loud. “You don’t believe me?”

“A flying elephant, sure. And I can breathe underwater.”

He leaned forward a bit, his eyes narrowing with a cocky smirk across his face. “Want to bet? I demand you make me that beef pastry I love when I prove you wrong.”

A challenge. She looked him in the eyes. They were determined, full of life, and yearning to succeed. Her stomach gave a flip. Has he always been that beautiful?

That beef pastry he wanted was this ridiculously large fillet steak coated with mushrooms and pancake batter that was terribly easy to ruin or burn. Getting it right was laborious, and it took hours to prepare.

But she was ready, and at this point she even felt like he didn’t even need to ask her.

“Fine. Prove me wrong,” she said. “When you fail, though, you will do all my chores for two weeks.”

“It’s a deal,” he said.

Terra’s triumphant return was not only met with praise from Master Eraqus, but it left a sense of ease within Aqua and Ventus, who were far less antsy with him around.

Sparring with him made her feel as though she was getting back on track, like she was training for her own improvement again. Terra was the complete opposite in fighting style. A warrior bent on using his sheer force to shatter his opponent. She was an acrobat, a mage determined to parry her opponent with mental accuracy and swift counterattacks. Sparring with him always sharpened her sense of evasion, because meeting some of his more broad brute swings directly was never an efficient idea.

After their duel was over, Aqua noticed the amount of sweat dampening his shirt, and the way his muscles moved as he breathed heavily. His hair was messy but it framed his jawline perfectly. His shoulders were broad, but had they always been? He had grown up so much and she knew this, so how was it she was just noticing this? What exactly changed?

The flutter in her stomach became unbearable and she could feel her cheeks getting hot, so she faced away from him and started her own exercises. Flips like a gymnast, with her hands and without, as she traversed from one end of the room to the other in a long line. The blood sent to her brain and the sensation of the air passing by her were enough to re-settle her senses.

At it worked well, until she saw that he watched her do it. Was that something he normally did, observe her practice? Such a strange and tense, yet gentle, stare. They locked eyes and he didn’t falter from the gaze, until he smiled gently and broke the connection.

Days went by and the two of them didn’t lock eyes like that again.

It was much safer to watch him spar with Ventus, like she did on a new day like today, when the Master came in with a sense of urgency.

“Terra, I am sending you on another mission,” he said, holding up a card with some written information. “It is a rescue. You are to go to this world and assist these two fellows from an organization in saving a kidnapped six-year-old orphan girl. She has been missing for a month.”

Aqua gasped. “That’s so horrible.”

Terra couldn’t hide the feeling of anger in his voice. “What kind of people would do-”

“Terra,” the Master interrupted. “Remember what you and I spoke about. Your focus should be on the girl. This world is one devoid of magic, so you mustn’t rely too much on the Keyblade. You are also forbidden from harming the kidnapper.”

Terra took a hard swallow. “Understood, sir,” and bowed his head.

“The same rules from before apply, too. You are not to return here until you have completed your mission,” the Master said with a stern demeanor, though not with cruelty or scorn.

Aqua stood up quickly, not really knowing what she was going to do. Object to the rules? Offer comfort? An orphan girl. So young, too. This would hit Terra really hard, since he was one also before the Master came to adopt him.

Before she said anything, Terra faced his two friends with a forced smile and said, “well, I’m off. Don’t worry about me.” He left so quickly that she didn’t get a chance to say anything.

Aqua put her hand on Ventus’ shoulder, whose facial expression absolutely betrayed any sense of control over his emotions.

“This one will be tricky,” he said quietly.

Each day that followed, Aqua tried to make it pass as normal. On the tenth night he was gone, she sat in the library, with that same book that she could barely finish, and a mug of tea that wasn’t brewed properly.

I can bake very well, but I can’t make a decent cup of tea to save my life.

She tapped her fingers onto the table. I need to know if he’s okay. Who is he with right now? Did he find her?

Is he even taking time to think about me?

Flustered, Aqua marked her place in the book and shut it closed, retiring for the night.

On the twelfth day since he left, Ventus offered the brilliant idea of visiting the waterfall nearby the castle. It was a place with a special memory: it was the first place they took him after he recovered from his sickness when he arrived. And it was Terra’s idea then. He begged her to go with him, his smile so wide it would have been infectious if she wasn’t in such a solemn mood.

But he didn’t allow her to reply to the idea. He just pulled her along with him.

The waterfall was genuinely a picturesque scene. The water rolled over several sloped rock, all smooth from its constant work. There was a cliff that wasn’t too high, where she and Terra taught Ventus to jump off from. The water pooled into a decent sized lake, which further ran down a gentle stream.

But this was the difficult part. No location in this entire world was a safe place where Aqua could be rid of Terra’s memory. Everything here she shared with him. It was probably something Ventus was aware of, too. Which meant that he probably also felt an ache somewhere due to the absence.

Aqua minded her own business sitting atop a boulder by the lake’s shore, Ventus entertaining himself by practicing strokes. She just wasn’t in the right mood to have fun - her mind was too focused on memories of them coming here as children, when they didn’t think about anything in the world that would make them sad. And she was so lost in thought that she didn’t notice -

- when he crept close to her underwater just to grab her by the leg and pull her down with him.

This method worked to distract her. She surfaced with hysterical laughter, and the two splashed water on each other, though it quickly deteriorated into a competition. She won.

When they were done, they left the lakeside to dry themselves.

“I miss him,” she said as she put her shoes back on.

“I miss him, too.” Ventus was putting on his shirt. “I don’t really think this was an easy one for him.”

“I know he’ll be fine,” she said, looking off to the distance. “He’s brave, smart and resourceful. He’ll be able to make that girl feel safe. It just really hurts. It’s so strange not having him here.”

She chuckled out loud as she stood up. “It’s like I’m missing a half of me.”

“Oh. I see.”

Ventus contorted his face into a strange expression. His eyes narrowed, and his smile was wide but he gripped his lower lip with his teeth as it pulled upward toward his nose. Much like he discovered a very scandalous secret.

“What’s that look for?”

“He’s brave, and smart, and resourceful, and strong, and tall, and handsome.” He emulated a girl who is swooning with his hands, and his voice kicked up a pitch with each word that came out of his mouth.

Aqua replied nothing to this except to push him back into the water. Strong, tall, and handsome. It embarrassed her to even consider Terra any of these things, but they were true.

Back at the castle, Aqua took stock of the food in the kitchen’s expansive cabinet space when Ventus bursted through the doors in order to make an announcement.

“Aqua!” he called out in an almost whisper - a quiet announcement. “He’s back! He’s completely passed out in the library.” It was silly that he tried to lower his voice since the library was very far away from the kitchen and there was no way that anyone could hear him from there.

Not that she thought too hard about this. Aqua dumped the food she was counting and ran to the library, noticing that Ventus stayed behind. Probably some nonsense about giving us space. Still, for this she was grateful.

And there, she saw him. Laid out on an ornate white and gold couch, on his side as he draped himself over a fluffy pillow, his face buried in it. A large, wrapped bandage was tightly knotted over his left arm.

She gently walked over to him, and couldn’t help herself but graze over his hair with her hand. Gently, so she didn’t wake him. Her smile was so wide that her cheeks hurt. I’m so glad you’re home.

A brown paper bag sat on the desk they normally shared for studying. The Affairs of the Heart was stuffed with papers and photographs where she had last marked it.

Opening it, she saw the first photograph. Terra smiling, in what looked to be a swamp, with bloodied rags tied around his left arm. He was with a blonde little girl in pigtails by his side, and two mice on his shoulders. She flipped the photo to see the scribble of a six-year-old’s handwriting. My heros. Tera, Bernard, and Ms. Bianca.

The next photo, the girl had jumped up on Terra as she hugged him around his shoulders, her smile brimming wildly. Terra flashed a gorgeous, toothy grin as he hugged back. The kind of smile caught mid-laugh, and the only way he’d ever be caught on camera doing this.

Aqua’s stomach contorted into knots as she stared at the picture. Oh, she’s so adorable. And him...

A clip from a newspaper, with the headline, GIRL KIDNAPPED FROM ORPHANAGE FOUND. The kidnappers, two pawn shop owners, were arrested and charged with child trafficking and attempted child homicide.

A letter from the same girl. Dear Tera, thank you for sayving me and Mr. Tedy. I praid for you and you came. I want to now, am I good enuff to hav perents like you? Love, Penny.

A photograph of Penny and her teddy bear, with an adult man and woman, standing on a street covered in snow. Another letter from her. Dear Tera, thank you for fynding me and Mr. Tedy perents! Now I hav a famili. I will tell them abaut you. You jumped on the alligaters and fell in the water. That meen man held a gun at you. You sayved me from drowning. Plees com visit me soon. I want to tell you abaut my cat. Give your frends the jinjersnaps. Love, Penny.

Aqua had tears running down her face, and she wiped them away. The gingersnaps must have been in the paper bag.

Another newspaper clipping. The headlines read, Wonder Elephant Soars to Fame! Miracle Mammoth Startles World!

A photo of Terra feeding a large elephant some peanuts, and calf with enormously large ears reaching for him with its trunk. She flipped the photo to its back to see Terra’s scratchy and uneven handwriting. Dumbo and his mother.

The last photo. Dumbo in the sky, his ears stretched out as if they were wings. Clearly, she lost the bet. On the back, Terra’s handwriting again. Dumbo. You owe me a steak pastry, exactly the way I like it cooked. P.S. Show Ven.

Aqua laughed in a whisper. He still slept soundly and peacefully on that couch, like he spent a lazy day instead of accomplishing any of these astounding things. Her heart pounded, and her chest swelled with a nervous excitement when she confirmed that yes, he really did seem different this time around.

Aqua set up all the necessary ingredients on the kitchen’s island to make Terra’s favorite dish as Ventus sat on the dining room table, struggling to finish what he called a stupid essay that did nothing for him. She saw him mumble to himself across the bar area, not turning a page for what seemed like an hour.

She heard footsteps, and when she peeked, she saw Terra approach them with a large hula hoop decorated with green and white stripes, and a fabric bag.

“Whoa, what’s that?” Ventus jumped off the dining room table.

“Hello to you, too,” Terra said as he put the fabric bag down on the surface of the bar.

He flipped the hula hoop in the air. “This is for you, Ven. Some of the dancers in the circus taught me how to play with it.”

A small pain twanged in Aqua’s chest at the thought of women flirting with Terra. It probably was fair. There was no denying he became good looking as he aged. That wasn’t exactly what bothered her.

Terra demonstrated some movements with the hoop as he twirled and sweeped with it. And Ventus was so ridiculously excited that it there weren’t words to describe it. Taking the hoop, he tried to imitate the movements, and smacked himself on the face. Next, he tried jumping with the hoop. He threw it into the air and caught it.

“It could be good practice for something. He has way too much energy,” Terra said in a low voice as he sat at the bar.

“You’re hurt?” She gestured over to his bandage.

He waved her concerns away. “Just a flesh wound.” He grabbed the bag and put it in front of him.

“This is for you.” He gave a small smile as he crossed his arms and leaned on the surface of the bar.

“It better be as hypnotizing as that hoop,” she said. She had no expectations when she unraveled it. Probably something that he grabbed on his way back.

But it wasn’t as simple as that. It was a group of things that he would have had to travel far away to find, for the sole purpose of hunting them down for her. A tin can of bright yellow turmeric. A bag full of spicy red annatto. A wooden box of forest green hyssopus.

All proof that he didn’t just put in all this effort into a difficult search for them, but that he was thinking of her as well. She got light-headed at the thought, and her heart beat fast.

There he was leaning on his hand, with this excitable smile on his face. He was anxious to see her reaction. As if he had been looking forward to giving this to her for ages.

Aqua slowed down a shaky laugh to seem in control of her emotions. Her smiled widened. “Terra, you’re amazing.”

There was a twinkle in his eye, as though he wasn’t expecting such a response. He tried to keep a smile, but he was obviously nervous. “Do you really mean that?” he said in a low voice.

Did she really mean it? Yes, Terra was amazing. In the things that he was able to achieve. But in a different way, too. Amazing in all the qualities that he showed to others, to her. Amazing in such a way that she realized it made her wish he would look at her like that every single day.

She glanced over at Ventus. He let the hoop drag on his back while he watched them. He rolled his eyes dramatically, and she was sure she’d hear his taunts later that night.

“Terra, you are back,” the Master’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

Aqua took this opportunity to turn away to focus on the ingredients in front of her, grateful for the opportunity to calm down.

“Terra, you did wonderfully,” she could hear the Master say behind her. “I’m so proud of you.”

She smiled to herself, knowing full well that these kinds of words will make Terra’s spirit soar with pride and a newfound confidence for the rest of the day. A sense that he could achieve what he wanted. He deserved it.

And she, too, wished he kept watching her as she worked, knowing that he instead kept himself busy as he exchanged words with the Master over his journey. Ventus scurried over and exclaimed that he, too, wanted to hear about these wild adventures.

Aqua listened on as she lovingly spiced the raw meat, with the intent of making it absolutely perfect.

This piece includes references to Dumbo (1941) and The Rescuers (1977).

Thank you SO MUCH for reading this loooooong post! It took eight hours of labor, lol. I promise the other volumes will not be as long. Let me know what you think, and if you have any suggestions for further one-shots in this universe, shoot me a request.

#terraqua fluff #terraqua fanfiction #kh fanfiction #mutual pining #aqua #terra #ventus #eraqus #strength to protect the things that matter #i listened to whole lotta vanessa carlton when i wrote this #vanessa carlton #incredibly mortified to share this #holy shit #my fic

32 notes · View notes

guksthighs · 6 years

Text

Chalet Girl ( i )

C.1: FIRST TRACKS ON THAT FRESH POW

ONE | TWO | THREE |

Pairing: JIN X READER

Excerpt: ‘ There was no feeling that could compare to the wind whipping on your face, the snow fresh and untouched that you cut through with a confidence that was needed when you were off course. ’

Genre: fluff, snowboard au

Length: 1.4k

A/N: this doesn’t follow the actual chalet girl plot but it IS about a girl in the snow sooOOooooOO,,,

anyway my bro donated me this au and i love her because she is the best for this blessing

"Stop ditching me with all the scared ones," you were shouting at Jin and you swore you could hear him chuckling over the sound of Taehyung's teeth chattering. The chairlift had come to a halt and your anger had bubbled up at your situation; wedged between the boys who were scared of heights every day was getting tiring.

"You woke up late," your brow creased at this comment; firstly because it was untrue as Hoseok was only staggering down the stairs of the chalet as you polished off your final waffle.

Secondly, you had woken up late because someone had stolen your phone whilst you had been asleep meaning your alarm had not woken you up on time. You knew it was Jin who had stolen it to play games, you had his favourites and he refused to get them on his own phone.

"I had my skiis on before Jimin had finished washing his face," you called back, the chairlift swung as you tried to prod Jin with Jimin's pole; but his broad shoulders were just out of reach and in the end the pole fell from your hand and you were extremely grateful for the wrist strap although Jimin was now shaking as his gaze was locked on the snow-covered floor that seemed so far away now.

"Don't drag me into this, my skincare routine is only a few minutes less than Guk's," Jimin muttered, but he had looped his arm with yours and was clinging on for dear life. Your gaze was distracted by the orange skies and looming empty white slopes; the boys always insisted on going out as early as possible. Eventually, you tore your attention from the silhouette of Jin's broad shoulders as instead, you turned to Jimin to inspect his skin, sighing when you realized a massive flaw in his ritual,

"It's all hidden by your mask anyway," you could see him roll his eyes through his reflective goggles and couldn't help but laugh at how easy you found it to get under his skin. An icy wind whipped at your hair, and you pulled Jimin tighter to warm you up, sighing in relief as with a jolt the chairlift continued to move.

You could just about make out the deck of the hotel you worked out, where you would be clearing tables and serving scalding hot chocolates with steam rising from them in a few hours. But for now, you were free to do what you love, snowboard.

Although Taehyung and Jimin continued to grip onto you, their teeth chattering with a mixture of fear and the cold that made your eyes slightly water, "I'm going to raise the bar now, we're gonna slide off nice and easy and make those first tracks," you spoke slowly, pushing the bar away and trying not to laugh as Jimin squealed slightly at the sudden loss of safety.

The ground was quickly approaching and you watched as Jin and Jeongguk slide off their seats with ease, then staying where they were so they could help with the disembark, but it was Jimin who was their focus, not Taehyung or you.

Jimin was not suited to the slopes, but you still managed to drag him out of the chalet every morning and today was no different, as you hooked your arm with his and as your board touched the hard snow under you, you pushed away, dragging him with you, with some help form Jeongguk who latched onto the boy's other arm and yanked hard.

"How are you not used to this yet?" you laughed, bending over to strap in your other foot to the board as you waited for the rest of the boys, the familiar click making a bright smile spread across your face.

The boys cheered as Yoongi was the last person to slide off the chairlift and as everyone made the last adjustments, pulling down goggles and strapping in their feet but you were bored with waiting, grinning at the boys before punching the air and pushing off to slide down the hill, shouting behind you, "let's go shred that fresh pow!"

There was no feeling that could compare to the wind whipping on your face, the snow fresh and untouched that you cut through with a confidence that was needed when you were off course. But this was not an unfamiliar landscape to you and from trial and error you had learnt all the things not to do as you propelled down.

"Y/N!" your head turned to catch Jin overtaking you, leaning so far back he was almost touching the snow, the white powder sprayed everywhere as he slowed down next to you, turning to look at you and blowing a kiss, "See you at the bottom!"

Jin took off with ease and you watched him glide in front of you, moving from side to side of the slope, dodging the numerous fir trees that loomed from the ground blocking your path and adding extra difficulty. This was one of your favourite trails and as you continued to pick up space, the flask in your rucksack began to clatter slightly, causing you to slow down allowing the rest of the boys to catch up.

"You've lost your touch Y/N," Namjoon called, his skis cutting through the snow as he mirrored Yoongi's sleek turns as if they were mirror images of each other and you just scoffed, trying to hide your awe at the small movements that had them gliding past huge fir trees at some of the fastest speeds found on the slope.

Yoongi was the current holder for the fastest speed on the slopes, and as you watched the ease with which he moved down the hill it wasn't hard to dispute. His figure soon became smaller, as he got to the rockier section you watched him stick his poles into them and use the momentum to dodge with as little effort as always.

When Hoseok overtook you, you knew you were at the back of the group. His back was covered in powder snow from failed tricks and a smile spread across your face as you watched him find a fallen tree, jump onto it and skid across the parks with a loud yelp of excitement.

"Hobi watch out!" You yelled, but it was too late and he tripped off the edge, rolling as his laughter turned to one loud scream; Hoseok was well known for this and you wondered if he was even surprised that he had fallen off, or if that had been his aim the whole time. You sped up to give him a hand, gloved fingers grabbing onto his hood as you pulled him into a sitting position before moving past him.

You heard laughter and turned to see the younger boys behind you, Jimin bombing down the slope in a straight line with Jeongguk on a board behind him, shouting, "Try and move side to side to slow down!" Taehyung was in fits of laughter, his poles digging into the fresh powder unevenly and you wondered what they were thinking.

The feeling of your board wobbling snapped you back to the present, and you quickly bent your back to dodge a small black rock that stuck out of the snow with a light dusting of powder on it from the previous boys who had passed it. The end was coming into sight, the dip in between the valley where you had once bought a flat pack table with Jin, after you had first found the spot.

Jin was in the distance laying on his back in the snow, his arms and legs opening and closing and rolling your eyes, you sped up. The first one there is meant to help set up, but of course, he would be enjoying his victory that he would use to make you do all the work, even if you had a shift in a few hours.

Finally reaching the end, you slowed down and pulled your helmet off, skidding to a halt at his figure and watching the snow land on his form, "Y/N." Jin sounded uncharacteristically serious, his brow furrowed as he sat up and dusted himself off, "I am getting snowboard of all these skiers."

Your eyes widened as you tried to stop the laugh that bubbled up, until Jin burst into laughter, slapping the snow as he muttered the joke to himself whilst shaking his head and finally you laughed, even if it was the fifth time you had heard the joke, that week.

If you enjoyed this, please do not hesitate to like, reblog and comment~

And tell me your thoughts in the comments/ask box <3

For my drabbles: click here

For my fics: click here

198 notes · View notes

izumisays · 4 years

Text

dear yuletide author

Thank you so much for reading this and taking part in this wonderful annual conspiracy!

First of all, I hope you have a lovely time! If any of the fandoms below pique your interest, I’m delighted already, and ready to hear all the stories you want to tell.

Fandoms: Nirvana in Fire, Spinning Silver, In Other Lands, Thunderbolt Fantasy, Grasshopper Jungle

How the characters play off each other and bring out their best/worst, how they’d react to a divergence of events, how true they’d stay to themselves in a different setting -- I love fanfiction for allowing us to reconnect with our favourite stories time and again by asking these questions. And there are so many ways to do it! To name a few favourites, I’m always game for POV hijinks, a missing scene, a casefic, canon expansion, backstories and what-ifs.

NIRVANA IN FIRE: Mei Changsu, Xiao Jingyan

Is this a complex, narratively inevitable historic tapestry strangling people with its treads, full of delicious politicking and identity porn? Yes, it is.

Is my burning – nay, primal – desire so simple as to smoosh two faces together and watch them kiss? Yes, it is :’)

SPINNING SILVER: Mirnatius

Spinning Silver is a beautiful story, a polyphony of voices that echo the key themes with poignance in individual tales coming together into a bigger picture: admirable female characters, complicated families, bargains and stakes and wordless bonds, all spun and woven together with so much care and craft! While I really liked the whole journey, it’s two characters in particular at whom I’d like to get a closer look.

Irina and Mirnatius: both shipfic and/or gen. Irina the ruler, with an iron will and unwavering hand: I would absolutely like to explore the court life under her rule, after the events of the book. In between running a country and cleaning up a demonic mess, does she find a thought to spare about Mirnatius? Does she harbour any resentment or sense of obligation, or indulgently tolerates him as part of the ornamental royal regalia? Is there a role she envisages him playing? Does she box him into that role, or allow herself to be surprised?

MIRNATIUS, hands-down my favourite POV in the book. How does he get on after demon loses his hold on him? What kind of person he is on his own? I’d like to think he doesn’t lose all his edges, and perhaps gets high-headed and displaced now that his mind is vacated off its demonic freeloader, and there is a quest for find his own place in the new reality, before he can be that dramatic artistic bisexual with no interest in statecraft that Irina gleamed in him.

How do the power dynamics between them change, and how much of that stays the same? Is there any genuine love to be found between them, eventually? (The answer doesn’t have to be yes – for all that they are the same species, I tend to think their circumstances are more complicated than Miryem and the Staryk’s, and less forgiving.)

IN OTHER LANDS: Luke Sunborn

Elliot is a spectacular narrator. Novel-shaped case in point: In Other Lands.

Having said that, what I really, really want to see is a story that makes Luke a narrator, or otherwise puts him at the center. I have it on good authority that he makes one fucking adorable narrator (novella-shaped case in point: Wings in the Morning), but why stop there, right?

Luke/Elliot, either post-canon or slightly amending canon, is always a delight. Luke crushing on Elliot for years in a resigned, semi-unaware (or aware!) manner - he gives Elliot Dale’s name only as a distraction, to get Elliot off his back, and watches with horrified eyes how every member of his family is suddenly out there to set him up with the wrong boy! Luke handling the thought of Elliot the boyfriend with awkwardness unbefitting a Trigon champion (granted, Elliot is kinda more prickly than an average glass ball). Luke having 110% confidence in Elliot and admiring him sass people into submission from the sidelines.

A look at Luke’s friendship with Serene - completely compatible with Luke forever crushing on Elliot, just saying ^^. I suspect lack of Elliot’s Serene goggles could do marvels to building nuance to her character: a little less emphasis on gender-reversed dudebro comedy, a little more of someone who is clever enough to balance multiple things, connect the dots, and learn, and stand by what she believes is right.

Competence kinkkk. Forever admiring the bookish people, refusing to stop trying to catch up, and zero time spent being conceited about own achievements while fully embracing his role of a champion and defender - that’s the Luke I love <3 Luke’s brand of leadership & charisma - an introverted champion, well-loved by people and easily tired of company of not his people.

Figuring out life after graduation! Casefic of them solving a mystery and preventing a war breakout! Getting assignments and storming the castles! Building cross-cultural competence by throwing Elliot at new people and watching him sign up new pen friends and treaties!

Sunborn family fic! A holiday get together? Drunken exchange of family stories? Another terrible competition that Elliot boycotts? Rachel reading Luke’s letters from year one and with great amusement observing the progression of his “THAT ELLIOT” feelings. (I would so die to read an epistolary fic that documents Luke’s Elliot problems) God I love the Sunborns, especially Rachel <3

I’m not particularly fond of Dale, on understanding that he got enough screentime already, so I’d be grateful if you didn’t center the fic around him. Obviously no objections to him as part of class ensemble, whose names Luke continuously fails to remember.

If you are writing a Luke/Elliot shipfic (which is a prospect I would whole-heartedly welcome!), just a note to say that I don’t get particular kicks out of wingfic poetics. I mean, I’m alright with that as part of the “golden and beautiful” package and acknowledgement that Elliot sure gets his kick out of them, but I personally find wings-as-harpy legacy and associated emotional baggage/pragmatism mix Luke feels on the subject more interesting to investigate. All the rest of their ship chemistry is very much welcome, in whatever proportion you enjoy doing it most.

THUNDERBOLT FANTASY: Rin Setsua; Sho Fukan

I LOVE THIS SELF INDULGENT WUXIA NONSENSE AND I CANNOT LIE!

If you had told me a year ago that I would commit a definitely not-insignifiant amounts of emotional investment into a Taiwanese puppet show written by Urobutcher, I’d have laughed in your face. I am so glad my lovely friends know me better than I do, and tied me to a chair long enough to show me the first few episodes, and smugly watched me breeze through two seasons and a movie of this tropey goodness.

Whether you go shipfic (yiss!) or canon levels teamup circus (also yiss!), don’t hold back your horses. Everything about this is Extra, and should continue to be so <3

GRASSHOPPER JUNGLE: Robby Brees

Do you ever, like, read an insanely cyclical, epic zombie apocalypse book that is probably narrated from the rubbles of the fallen fourth wall, and walk away softly clutching at your heart, whispering “Oh Robby”?

I sure did.

I mean, I definitely loved all the obsessive, crazy, cyclical shit the book did. It’s a trip and a half! Austin is a hilarious guide to the crazyland of zombie apocalypse and multiple identity crises, and I enjoyed him tremendously. If you want to dabble in recreating that, I’ll happily read it! But my heart longs to answer some important questions like, Will Robby Ever Get Appreciation He Deserves, Do They Get Laid, and most importantly, What The Fuck Happened That Night When They Got Drunk and Shit Got Transcendental. (I feel it in my heart of hearts that their dicks must have, or at least should have, touched.)

Play however you like with it -- coda, AU, fixit, crack (oh god, if there was a canon that was borderline crack itself), futurefic -- I’m gonna look forward to any and all permutations.

A note to say that I don’t harbor any ill feelings towards Shann! My primary urge is to coddle and adore Robby, and I leave it up to you to negotiate the hows and whys :)

FWIW, I have a copy of Exile from Eden on my hands, but haven’t cracked it open yet. It’s entirely up to you if you want to include whatever is in there: I’m going to be pleased with just GJ material as is! If I do read Exile anytime soon, and if it significantly changes my views on the subject, I’ll add a note to that effect.

#dear creator letter #yuletide #yuletide 2019

6 notes · View notes