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itsclydebitches · 3 years

Note

Why do people get hung up on whether a gay person in media is a good or bad representation of them? I'm gay and I can tell you we aren't all the same? Being gay is our 1 common trait. So as long as they're gay then you've done it. Gay people can be kind, mean, racist, open, kinky, reserved, shy, outgoing, sexist, and literally anything else under the human experience.

Because I am perpetually hungry, let's tell a story about cookies.

You are a bright-eyed, optimistic, baker in the making. Your goal is to wow the world with your culinary skills, so of course you head to The Best Baking School for your degree. Over the course of your studies you learn how to perfect a thousand different cakes, an equal number of pies, and more versions of brownies than most would even assume exist. But cookies... oh, cookies are your passion! You can't wait to learn about the wealth of cookies you can make too. Then, sure enough, that part of your education finally arrives.

Funny thing is though, it's just chocolate chip.

Surely there's been some mistake? The cookie experience is vast and nuanced! Why in the world are your instructors — supposedly the best in the world — reducing cookies to a single class about baking chocolate chip and chocolate chip alone? Hell, why are cookies so sparse in the curriculum as a whole? You're never asked to bake them as a demonstration, or practice with them, and they're definitely not a given across everyone else's baking experience. Cakes, pies, and brownies... they're the default. Cookies are comparatively rare and when you do get to study them, everyone is super focused on the chocolate chip.

Then you graduate and head out into the world, only to find that pretty much everyone is as cookie-blind as your school. A few years back you never would have found cookies in the average grocery store and yeah, the fact that there's a cookie section now is great, but it's, uh... all chocolate chip! Many bakeries still don't carry cookies at all, but when they do it's - again - chocolate chip. Chocolate chip out in restaurants. Chocolate chip at the bake sale. Your friend invites you over and proudly presents a massive sweets tray that includes a single, sad looking, chocolate chip cookie. They beam at you in pride. Isn't it so great?

"Uh..." you say. "Well..."

Every once in a while someone will switch out milk chocolate for dark chocolate, or add nuts alongside chocolate chips. One bakery was even crazy enough to exclude chocolate chips entirely! Crazy according to the press, anyway. Because for years now you've been shaking your head, wondering what exactly is so progressive about realizing that sugar cookies exist. You've found other bakers interested in cookies and, by god, there are thousands. So many flavors! Gluten free and allergy conscious! Someone even made a sweets tray that was predominantly cookies, can you believe it? The problem is, almost none of them are mainstream. Your friend baking cookies out of their personal kitchen is doing fantastic work, but their baking doesn't have the impact that those grocery chains and established bakeries do. Their work isn't going to fix your school's curriculum. Too many people still think that cookies are exotic somehow. They're not the default. And when they do acknowledge their existence, it's chocolate chip over and over. Until one of them adds those nuts and suddenly the whole country is losing its mind about how inspired, creative, progressive their baking is. Meanwhile, you're ready to scream because that baker doesn't even know that something as "exotic" as a gingersnaps exist!

The worst part? Most of these cookies are... bad. Like they exist, yeah, but good god most don't taste good. And that's the whole point of a cookie?? What is the point of buying cookies if the cookies themselves are awful? You go to these bakeries, these restaurants, your friend's house, and you try the very limited cookies on offer, only to find that they've been sloppily baked. Doesn't anyone care that the baker burned their cookies to a crisp? That another straight up forgot to add sugar? This one dropped his on the floor and still tried to serve it to you! But the overall sense is that you should be grateful for getting any cookies at all. "That cookie is an offense to my taste buds," you say and people shake their head at you, disappointed. "I liked the taste of it," one says. "If you don't like it, go buy a different cookie!" Well... easier said than done. "It's not that bad," another says, shrugging in defeat. "I mean yeah, I don't really like it, and the baker stopped making them two years ago... but I'm just happy to have had any cookie at all, you know?" You do know, but that doesn't mean it's any less frustrating. You look at the hundreds of cakes available, these bakers spending decades perfecting their recipes, and wish cookies had even a fraction of that work put into them. You find people who agree with you, absolutely, but there's this this prevailing sense that a cookie is a cookie. Any cookie will do. Supposedly.

Except go long enough and you feel like you're ready to lose your mind. You take some poor person by the shoulders and go, "Doesn't this bother you? Doesn't this make you furious? There is more to the cookie world than these three flavors, 90% of which is chocolate chip! And we deserve well-made cookies, not the crap they've been upholding as the next culinary masterpiece!"

But this person just shakes their head. "Well of course there's more to cookies than three flavors. There's a huge variety of cookies! I know that."

"Yes, but the world isn't selling that variety."

"Of course they are! Just last week I had an oatmeal raisin. That's amazing!"

"Yeah and how many years did it take you to find that?"

"Well..."

"And how did that oatmeal raisin cookie taste?"

Your prisoner pulls a face. "Ugh, not good. Oatmeal raisin is definitely not for me. It's hard as a rock! I really don't understand why someone would want to eat that on a regular basis."

"But it's not supposed to be hard as a rock!" you cry, waving your arms. "That's the problem! Oatmeal raisin is so goddamn rare and then the one time we get it, it was badly baked. Of course people are turned off by it. Everyone who already loves oatmeal raisin is getting pissed because their favorite cookie is misrepresented, they're unlikely to see more of them now, and everyone is still serving the most tasteless chocolate chip cookies I've ever had, acting like this is the pinnacle of cookie baking! Do you even know that a macron exists?"

The person pats your hand consolingly. "Of course I do. My roommate's sister's boyfriend used to bake macrons, you know. I don't know why you're so hung up on this. Cookies can be whatever the baker wants them to be. Provided they're a flat-ish sweet cake, they're still a cookie!"

You hang your head, giving up. "Yes, they can be so many things, but they're not. Let me know if you ever find a bakery actually making the variety you keep acknowledging exists. Bonus points if those cookies are edible. My soul if they're delicious, as a cookie should be."

"You know," they say, still patting your hand. "There's a bakery making chocolate chip with dark chocolate next year. Everyone is talking about it. You should think about buying one before they take it off the menu!"

You contemplate just walking into the ocean.

Now, incredibly long metaphor concluded... switch out "cookies" for "queer rep"! The representation matters because no, just making them gay isn't enough right now. You're right that queer people can be anything under the sun, but right now media isn't providing us with that variety. It's not enough to acknowledge that such variety exists, it actually has to make it into our books and onto our screen. Taking just characters who identify as gay and putting aside the HUGE variety of other identities for a moment (of which we are mostly lacking in terms of rep), where are the gay asexuals? The gay people of color? The disabled gays? Trans gays? Did your gay character appear for just a handful of episodes? Were they killed off? Are they nothing more than a stereotype or comic relief? Is this the only gay character in your entire story? We need to ask questions like this because though gay people can be anything under the sun, our media landscape has only shown a miniscule portion of that variety.

Today, even in 2021, our representation of gay people is still pretty limited to:

You are only coded as gay and evil

You are only coded as gay and queerbaited

You are canonically gay, but a cis, ablebodied, white person

You are canonically gay, but were written terribly/killed off/punished by the narrative/generally making the real gay people watching you feel awful about their identity

You are canonically gay, but you're not human. Gotta other the queerness by making you an alien/robot/fantasy being

You are canonically gay and that's your entire existence. There is one (1) narrative of how you knew by the time you were four, never questioned your identity after that, suffered through a family that rejected you, and now all your major arcs revolve around being gay. You are gay and that is it.

Despite being a list of six, that's still incredibly limiting. Are there exceptions to such a list? Always, but that doesn't mean the list isn't still dominating. We can look at any individual gay character and say, "Of course they can be evil/white/killed off/a joke/etc. because gay people can be anything at all," but when we look at the trends, when we look at ALL the media together, we see that gay people aren't actually depicted as being anything... they're depicted as being these handful of things, severely limiting how gayness is represented. Bad rep. If you hit up the bakery and question why there's only versions of chocolate chip available yeah, the baker can go, "But cookies can be any flavor! Including chocolate chip!" They are not, technically, wrong. The problem is not that chocolate chip exists, but that chocolate chip dominates and other flavors are rare, ignored entirely, or baked so badly it's actively damaging to that flavor as a whole. Yeah, your gay character can be mean. Or kinky. Or murdered by the story. But when so many gay characters are mean and kinky and murdered by their stories — when you're not getting other versions to balance that out and gay characters are still rare enough that it's just 1-2 characters trying to carry representation for an entire franchise — you start realizing that the claim of "Gay people can be anything else under the human experience" is an easy way to shut down the conversation of whether that variety actually exists in our storytelling yet.

It's not enough for the baker to acknowledge that yeah, of course there are hundreds of cookie flavors and of course cookies taste great! They've actually got to learn how to bake them properly and fill up their store with them.

#queer #mymetas

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boonki · 3 years

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“You look absolutely horrible.” For the prompts!

OKAY I KNOW YOU ASKED THIS LIKE THREE HUNDRED YEARS AGO i am so sorry ive had to work a ton lately and have just been so tired, i havent written at all recently

BUT

here you go!! some nice sleepy vibes from yours truly at 2:20 am, apologies if there are any mistakes

_______

The only light on in their shared kitchen space is above the sink, drowning the space in a burnt orange color, like the warm glow of a fire. As he stumbles into the room, Obi-wan nearly misses Anakin sitting at the table, fiddling with droid parts, back curled over and head drooped to study a piece of machine in his hands. How he’s even able to see is far beyond Obi-wan, but he’s learned to let it go throughout the years.

Obi-wan turns the knob on the stove and shuffles the kettle to check for water, startling Anakin out of his meditative state.

“Oh, Obi-wan.” Anakin looks up at him and squints, exhaustion forming neat lines around the corners of his eyes. “I didn’t know you were awake.”

Before reaching up to the cabinet for a well-loved mug, Obi-wan catches how pale Anakin is, how dark purple blooms around his eyes like bruises, how he seems to shrink into himself. Obi-wan has seen Anakin look tired before, especially when he was younger and put so much pressure on himself to perfect his schoolwork, but this is on the particularly bad end of things. Anakin’s hair is greasy, the long curls pushed back and tucked behind his ears, and the small blanket draped around his shoulders does nothing to hide the fact that Anakin is still wearing the same shirt from two days ago. He looks absolutely horrible.

“You look absolutely horrible,” Obi-wan says, the mug settling on the countertop with a clink. “Have you even tried to sleep?”

Anakin frowns. “Hey, you don’t look much better. We’re both awake at what,” his head swivels around as he looks for a clock, and finding none, guesses, “four in the morning? What’s your excuse, old man?”

Obi-wan hums noncommittally at that, amusement assuaging the growing worry nagging at his chest. He pulls a tea bag out of the flimsy cardboard box left out on the counter, and rips the packaging open, letting the sachet dangle into the cup. He lets the silence linger.

With a softer tone, Anakin tries again. “You can’t sleep either?”

Obi-wan pours the boiling water into the mug, watching the color turn into a deep shade of purple, and he gently bounces the bag up and down, encouraging it to steep. “I think you’ll find, my dear padawan, that I’ve evolved past the need for sleep.”

Anakin’s eyebrows flatten, and he snorts. “I’ll make sure to pass that along to Cody, I’m sure he’ll agree with you.”

A smile tugs at Obi-wan’s mouth. “No, I,” he pauses, taking a breath, “I keep waking up. Figured a cup of tea would help.”

All of the mirth vanishes from Anakin’s face, leaving only unadulterated worry. Obi-wan looks down at his tea. They both know a euphemism for nightmares when they hear one by now, considering they’ve created half of them on their own. Fighting a gruesome, bloody, and endless war will do that to a person. Fighting a gruesome, bloody, and endless war where a good portion of the deaths are on your hands, on your conscience, even more so.

The air is still between them, but dense with emotion. Obi-wan rarely admits his nightmares to anyone, and by the myriad of expressions racing through Anakin’s features, he can tell Anakin is struggling with the right response.

Obi-wan sips his tea.

“Sometimes, I,” Anakin starts, clearing his throat, “I wish I knew them better, my men who died. I see them in my dreams.” He’s staring down at his hands, either as a distraction or remembering the blood he’s washed off. The droid parts sit motionlessly beneath them.

Obi-wan leans back on the counter, holding the steaming mug up to his chin. “So do I,” he nearly whispers, grateful for Anakin’s admission, his attempt to empathize with Obi-wan. He wants to say more, wants to sit down and let out the demons haunting his dreams, but he’s afraid that they’d rip all his bandages on the way out and tear him apart completely. It’s easier, he thinks, to keep it all inside, contained, controlled. But in the dim and molten light of the kitchen, with his face hidden in the shadows, he wants to be vulnerable. He also wants Anakin to get some rest.

“Do you want to come sleep with me?” Obi-wan asks, eyes darting up to Anakin’s face.

Anakin’s eyes go wide, and he straightens up in his seat. “What?”

He suddenly realizes what he’s said, and he can feel his ears burn. “No, not like that.” He dips the tea bag in and out of the mug, and Anakin relaxes a bit, though still wary, looking somehow disappointed. “When you were a youngling, you used to crawl into bed with me when you couldn’t sleep. You thought I never noticed.”

“You remember that?”

Obi-wan smiles to himself, gazing wistfully down into his mug. “Of course, dear one. You weren’t the only one who slept better.”

Anakin’s eyebrows are knitted together, his lips parted. “Oh.” He looks thoughtful. “Sure, then. Your room?”

Warmth floods Obi-wan’s chest in anticipation, not at all feeling guilty about his careful manipulation. He knows Anakin could never turn down helping others, it’s in his nature.

Anakin’s little droid project is completely forgotten as Anakin stares at him for an answer.

“Considering I don’t quite feel like tripping over half an engine, yes, my room.” Obi-wan takes one final sip of his tea and sets it by the sink, treading over the cold floor back into his room.

With a scoot of his chair, and loud, heavy footsteps, Anakin follows, sliding Obi-wan’s door shut behind him, leaving the pair in complete darkness. Obi-wan is still in his sleep shirt and shorts from before, so he slips into bed, pulling back the covers for Anakin to join him. He hears the soft thump of clothing dropping to the floor and then a dip in the mattress next to him.

Obi-wan lays on his back, as he assumes does Anakin.

Then there’s a shuffle as Anakin readjusts, and with a slight startle, Obi-wan feels a bare arm rest against his chest, a face in his neck, a leg thrown over his. It’s odd, but rather nice. Obi-wan doesn’t remember the last time he felt so safe.

“Is this okay?” Anakin mumbles into the crook of his neck, blowing hot air over his collarbones.

“Yes.” Obi-wan faintly wonders if Anakin can feel his heartbeat.

“What were your nightmares about?”

Obi-wan considers this. Blood, so much blood, headless bodies strewn over a hopeless landscape, their heads coming to life and blaming their deaths on him, his call, his decisions. Qui-gon, standing in the flames, yelling at him to be better, to have saved him, saved his men, to save Anakin. Stillness, as he stands utterly alone and deserted, everyone finalizing realizing they were better off without him, because he is worthless, unlovable, tainted-

“The war.” Obi-wan answers, his voice cracking. “And you?”

When no reply comes, Obi-wan wraps his arm around Anakin’s back, tracing his spine, the flesh warm and smooth underneath his fingertips. Anakin’s breaths come slow and even, and his hand twitches once.

Already asleep, then.

Obi-wan bites a lip to keep from chuckling. Maybe this is the trick to get him to sleep. He rests his cheek against his hair, presses a light kiss to the top of his head.

“I dream of losing you, dear one,” he whispers out to no one, letting the honesty linger in the darkness above them. He trusts the nighttime to keep his secrets.

When they both wake up in the morning, Obi-wan is sure there will be some level of embarrassment from cuddling, from cracking open their hard exteriors to each other. They’ll probably be sent out to the frontlines and never speak of this again.

He feels the sturdy muscles of Anakin’s sides, the dip of his waist and rise of his hips.

For now, Obi-wan holds him, keeps him safe from the torment of his own brain, and lets him get some much needed sleep.

___

Light billows out from underneath the door when Obi-wan wakes, morning having come and gone long ago.

Anakin has curled further into him, practically seeping into his bones. There’s a leg thrown over his waist, face completely smooshed in his neck, and his arm drapes over his chest, Anakin’s palm cupping the side of his face. Delicate snores come from Anakin’s nose, and Obi-wan’s neck is hot from Anakin’s breath. Obi-wan’s hand is settled in the small of Anakin’s back, the other arm thrown up above Obi-wan’s head.

A languid grin finds its home on Obi-wan’s face, sleep tugging at his edges. He hasn’t felt so well rested in years.

Not wanting to wake Anakin, Obi-wan flutters shut his eyes, and lets himself drift back off, soaking in the feeling of love and security that pool together in his heart.

He can feel Anakin breathing steadily on top of him, peacefully.

The war will have to wait.

#boonki writes #obikin #obiwan #obiwan kenobi #anakin skywalker #anakin #star wars #prompts #ask #sonda walkin #i hope this makes sense #i wrote this at 2 am whats good #fanfic #hurt/comfort #sleep deprivation #obiwan & anakin #obi-wan/Anakin #THEY JUST NEED SOME FUKIN SLEEP DUDE #let them cuddle

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kanonsarchivedblog · 3 years

Text

Nightmares

Word Count: 1425 Warnings: None Genre: Angst Characters: Deidara, Hidan, Kurotsuchi Author's Note: Deidara suffers from PTSD, which presents itself in the form of nightmares and night terrors. Also, Deidara uses they/them pronouns. If you don't like that, please just scroll away. This was inpsired by Lauren Babic's cover of Lovely. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ “Deidara!” Kurotsuchi called, nearly tripping over her feet as she chased after the blonde. “Get back here!”

“Catch me first!” The thirteen year old cackled, grinning as they ducked behind a large boulder, panting softly from sprinting through the crowds. Graduation; Kurotsuchi finally became a chuunin, two years after they had. She was their kohai, their student- she would be learning beneath them and the guidance of their Tsuchikage. Next year, they’d be able to apply to become a jounin. The mere idea had them giddy, had their heart skipping a beat. An official Iwagakure jounin!

The sound of footsteps had them turning, eyes widening in surprise as they stared at three figures, the landscape around them changing. Wait. No, no, this was wrong. This wasn’t the Tsuchikage memorial they’d been hiding behind. This was-

This was the studio they’d created, that had been gifted to them to perfect their art. No, no! Not again, they didn't want to go through this again! The kiln behind them crackled, hot against their back. “Akatsuki?” They asked, brow furrowing in confusion. The strange cloaks they were weren’t fit for Iwagakure’s weather, they noted. “Don’t know, don’t care! It has nothing to do with me.” The fifteen year old declared, gaze drifting back down to the clay spider they were molding. “The only thing I wish to do is continue making my art, hm.”

“Sure, he seems like he’s full of energy,” the one in the puppet- Sasori. That was Sasori! “But he seems like the type to die young,” he finishes, gaze directed upwards towards Itachi. Uchiha Itachi- and Hoshigaki Kisame. They were the ones who brought them in.

Not again, please, not again! They tried to scream, to force their voice out, to plead and beg, but nothing changed. The cocky attitude remained. “Just who the hell are you anyway?” They asked, apprehension coloring their words.

“We know you’re aiding anti-government factions,” Kisame began, head tilting as he studied the blonde. “We’re here to give you a purpose.”

“Purpose?” Deidara scoffed. “I don’t need a purpose!”

“Alright,” Itachi murmurs, shaking his head, “that’s enough. I’ll handle this.”

No, no, no- not again, not again! Deidara panicked, their heart racing as Itachi approached, the tomoe spinning in his gaze. Please, not again!

“NO-” Deidara yelled, jolting up in their bed, chest heaving as the memories of their dream began to drift away. Another nightmare. Their gaze frantically searched the dark room, lit only by the light that spilled in through their window of one of the many neon signs that could be found throughout Amegakure. “Just a dream,” they murmured, reaching up to scrub at their eyes. “A dream.” But it wasn’t a dream. They weren’t in Iwagakure.

They were in Amegakure, in a damned tower with a Buddha’s head that sat atop it, in a village that rained endlessly. No, they weren’t home. A shuddering breath is drawn in as they draw their legs to their chest- a flat chest, one that felt right. Comfortable. A year had passed since that surgery had taken place, the scars fully healed.

Their eyes filled with tears as the adrenaline began to wane, the same moment the door opened. Head snapping up, wide blue eyes studied the figure in the door- tall. Not Sasori. No black tomoe on red irises shining in the dark light. Instead, it was lilac eyes and silver hair. Hidan. “Another nightmare?” He asked, voice gruff from sleep.

That’s right- his room was below Deidara’s. Of course he’d have heard them yell. “Sorry,” they mumbled, shaking their head as Hidan steps in, closing the door behind himself. “They’re coming more often.”

“Well,” Hidan hummed, coming to the other side of the bed,”’s close to when you were brought in, yeah?” He asked as he settled down, making himself comfortable in the pile of blankets and pillows and- was that a stuffed spider?- that made up Deidara’s bed. This wasn’t the first time.

It wouldn’t be the last.

A sigh that devolved into a whimper escaped Deidara as they nodded, face in their hands. “I didn’t want this,” they whispered, voice catching. “I never wanted this. I wanted to be good. I wanted to do good. I never intended on joining, or even on leaving Iwa. I had to run. I had to. Until I could master this,” they motioned with their hands, voice unsteady as tears began to roll freely down flushed cheeks. Pretty, Hidan thought distantly. “I was a threat. I already had this stupid fucking kekkei genkai, and coupled with the- the forbidden jutsu, I was dangerous. But I was good, Hidan. I was a good fucking person!” They yelled, slamming a fist down against their own thigh, hard enough to make Hidan grimace in pain. “I worked for my village and I had a student and now? Now, I’m a fucking S-Class to be killed on the spot. I’m only eighteen, and I’m known all across the fuckin’ nations for doing something that I never wanted to be a part of in the first place.”

Hidan’s brow furrowed inward, a hand reaching out to grasp onto Deidara’s arm, tugging them down gently to lay with him. No words were exchanged as Deidara curled in against him, their sobs soft, muffled by the back of their own hand, the fight in them extinguished just as quickly as it appeared. He could only imagine the pain that had come with Deidara’s borderline kidnapping. He’d heard some details from Sasori himself, a few from Kisame.

Itachi never spoke of it, as if he were ashamed of what he’d done. And he should be.

“One day,” Deidara whispered, breath hot against Hidan’s neck. “ One day, I’ll make it out of here. Even if it takes a hundred years,” their voice is filled with a conviction that surprises Hidan.

His arm tightens around them, holding them closer. “One day, you will,” he agrees, though he isn’t sure what he truly is agreeing with. “Go back to sleep.” It wasn’t even dawn yet, too early to rise and do anything. “I’ll stay. Just go the fuck back to sleep.” When he gets no response from Deidara, he pulls back a touch to glance down- only to find the blonde explosion expert sound asleep, brow still furrowed but otherwise calm. Their face was still wet with tears.

Carefully, he reached up, drying the tears with the edge of one of Deidara’s blankets. They were the youngest out of all of them- the youngest, the most troubled. Aside from maybe Itachi. That dude was fucked beyond belief. But Deidara had only been fifteen, just barely, when they were brought in. He remembered that day- only three months after he himself was brought in.

The screaming. The fighting. How Deidara had decked Itachi and nearly scratched Zetsu’s left eye out before Kisame had gotten ahold of them. How they screamed and growled, threatening to make this entire village ground zero, until Konan had brought them into her office.

The screaming had stopped soon after, and was replaced with sobbing and a soothing voice.

“What the fuck are we even doin’?” Hidan muttered to the dark room, though he received no response. Kakuzu was still asleep in their bed- or, he had been when he’d rolled out at the sound of Deidara’s scream. He’d half expected to find Sasori in here- but that was mere wishful thinking. The puppet master didn’t care about nightmares.

Probably didn’t even sleep.

Sighing, he readjusted, nose scrunching up at how many fucking pillows Deidara slept with. Comfort- he could get that. The kid was barely eighteen, now- and still had these damned nightmares at least twice a week. A part of him wondered what Itachi had shown him. But a larger part, the smarter part, knew better than to ask. Instead, he stayed quiet and did what he could. Which wasn’t much- but, shit, something is better than nothing, right?

He pulled the blankets up high, covering Deidara completely before even bothering with himself despite the chill in the room. He kept them close, tucking their head beneath his chin, into the crook of his neck. Sleep came quickly, sweeping over him and dragging him down deep.

It was strange. Normally, he had nightmares- hell, that’s all he ever had. But on nights like this? He didn’t dream.

He couldn’t help but wonder as he fell into the warm arms of sleep if Deidara had dreams during these times, or if he, too, was dreamless.

#m's scribbles #deidara #hidan #akatsuki #naruto #naruto fanfiction #hidadei #i personally hc & write deidara as being ftm & using they+them pronouns #if this bothers you just walk away.

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wastelandcth · 3 years

Text

Better Love - cth

part two: the wild and us

summary: Maeve and Calum meet. The rain outside puts on a show.

author’s notes: I hope you guys enjoyed the first part of this series! This part had one of my favorite scenes I’ve ever written so I hope you enjoy!

warnings: mentions of drinking, mentions of breakups, mentions of food.

masterlist || request || join my taglist!

part one

Staring in the blackness at some distant star The thrill of knowing how alone we are, unknown we are To the wild and to the both of us

"What are you doing in my hotel?" she asked shakily, her wariness prevalent in the way her voice shook as she stared at the man in front of her.

The towel she was pulling closer to her body felt like nothing in the room with him. Maeve, who had only made it back to the cabin an hour prior, had expected to be alone. She'd hadn't expected to walk out of her shower to find a tall man sleeping in the bed she'd rented out for the week. She also hadn't expected the rainstorm to be so bad, her weather app claiming her entire week here would be sunny and perfect for hiking, so finding a man in her cabin hadn't been in her plans either.

And wow was he a sight for sore eyes.

"What are you doing in my cottage?" he asked, Maeve's eyebrow raising as she heard the trace of an accent, "Mrs. Bagby rented this place out to me, she never said there was someone already staying here," he huffed, his eyebrows furrowing as he studied Maeve's.

"Mrs. Bagby? Who the hell is Mrs. Bagby? I'm renting this from Mrs. Baird," Maeve said, "I was here first! You're the intruder!"

Maeve, who had always been prepared to debate with anyone, was not backing down no matter how exposed she was in front of a handsome man. She wasn't going to stand for a stranger barging into her space, she needed this vacation more than anything in this world and she'd be damned if she let this ruin it. She watched as the man in front of her opened and closed his mouth, looking like a fish out of the water as he tried to come up with a solution to the very obvious problem. If Maeve was honest, she had no idea how the confusion had happened or how they'd both ended up in this situation, but she didn't have much time to think about it.

The thunder outside shook the walls of the small cabin, rattling the jars and the decorations on the walls throughout, and it wasn't until Maeve heard the crack of lightning that she realized just how bad the storm outside had become. The view outside the window had been fogged, the colorful autumn trees disappearing behind the wall of water falling from the sky as the landscape blurred into a mixture of grey and orange with red splotches. Maeve, whose attention had switched from the man in the green hoodie to the raging storm outside, had grabbed the pile of clothes she'd left on the dresser. Without another word, she walked back towards the bathroom and made sure to twist the lock before she let out a breath.

The man in her bedroom for the week had been, breathtaking to say the least. His eyes, although wide and filled with confusion when Maeve had looked into them, were brown and shone even in the gloominess of the weather His hair was short, the tufts of blonde hair curling near the ends. Maeve guessed that his hair had been a darker color naturally, the roots she'd spotted proving her point. He looked like a kind person, maybe he was like Maeve as well, just another person looking for an escape.

That's all her trip to this cabin was meant to be, an escape.

Maeve's life had always been simple if you could call it that. She'd been born on a rainy afternoon, her mother liked to tell her it was because she was meant to outshine the sun itself. Her parents, who'd met in Scotland years before she ever came to take her first breath, had always told her about the magic the country had to offer. They told her stories of the forests so vast and large that even the biggest of problems could shrink down into pebbles that flowed away in the rivers. She'd grown up in a small town, dreaming of the wonders that Scotland had for her when she was old enough to see them.

Maeve had moved when her time at university peaked when her nose was stuck in books that spoke all about the history and the cultures that made up the world. It had been the first time in her life that she'd been away from her parents, from the only home she had ever known, and it had been so thrilling. She went from only traveling to big cities for concerts or when her father had needed to run errands to living right in the heart of all the commotion. The quiet nights that had been filled with only cicadas singing into the night were replaced by the sound of a city, alive and cheerful at all hours of the day. Maeve had never experienced so much at such a fast pace and her life at her university flew by before she had a chance to slow down. One day she was unpacking her bags in her dorm and the next she was accepting her diploma and applying to jobs around the country. She felt the burnout, felt the way her brain tensed whenever she read through application requirements and the thought of having to pack up her life again. She felt the way her eyes forced themself open while riding the train to interviews. She knew that she needed a break, a few days off to remember who she was and what she wanted in life. To make matters worse, her relationship had been going downhill. She'd met James at a social event the school had put on, both of them were in the same program so it wasn't hard to make conversation with him. After too many history jokes and a trip to the campus bar, Maeve found herself awake in his arms as he slept. She'd laid there that first night, looking out at the stars through his window, wondering why she'd felt a pull towards a different place, a different person.

That feeling hadn't stopped since that night, she'd stayed with James, he was a nice guy who made her laugh and kept her company as they both studied. But he wasn't someone she saw herself spending the rest of her life with. She had a feeling that James felt the same way even if they were both too afraid to admit that the spark that had been there before was fiddling out. The arguments were getting worse, the silence lasting longer as time went on. It wasn't until one night when Maeve had been studying for a final exam that it had all exploded. Words were thrown around, tears were shed, and she was left feeling like something was wrong with her. She couldn't understand why she couldn't love James as he loved her, she'd turn distant and pushed him away until all that was left between them was a broken flower vase and tears.

That's why she'd jumped on the opportunity to fly to Scotland when it arose. She'd been sitting at her desk, scrolling through an endless list of applications and teaching opportunities when the email had popped up. She'd read through it a couple of times, making sure she wasn't imagining the words on the screen. Her professor, who'd helped her in more ways than one could count, had recommended her for a teaching job abroad. She would have to visit the school, make sure that it was both a right fit for her and for the administration, but it seemed like they were more than ready to offer her a spot and helping her make Edinburgh her home.

Mrs. Baird, the lovely older woman who had driven Maeve up to the cabin and helped her unpack, had told her that she was glad she'd arrived a few days earlier after Maeve had told her all about why she was visiting Scotland at such an odd time of year. She'd been a curious soul ever since Maeve had stepped out of the taxi that had taken her from the train station out to the main residence Mrs. Baird had seemed to be the owner of. She'd asked Maeve all sorts of questions, which Maeve had taken as to her host just making sure she wasn't escaping from anyone dangerous or anything like that, it was a tough time to be a woman traveling alone.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll love the spot you'll be staying in then. It's very private, it'll be good for you to clear your head and relax before your big interview," she'd nodded as she packed up a few bags with groceries Maeve hadn't recalled reading about on the website.

"Oh, um, I don't think I paid for anything like that, Mrs. Baird," Maeve chuckled and shook her head, "I was thinking of just popping into town and picking up a few essentials."

"Oh don't you worry, darling! It's my pleasure. Plus, the cottage is quite secluded so it'd take you almost half a day to get to the shops and back," she shrugged, "Let's get going, yeah?"

The drive up to the cabin had been slow and gave Maeve a chance to take in the sights. The forest was alive with colors that Maeve's eyes had craved to see. It seemed like everything her parents had told her about the place they'd met was still the same. The trees still sway in the chilly breeze and somewhere in the distance, a river flowed with a power that only came with years of flowing and receiving rain. The drive itself had been plenty enough to get Maeve excited about her days of rest but the second her eyes saw the stone bridge that led to her home for the next couple of days, she knew her life was about to change. After helping Mrs. Baird with bringing in all the bags and thanking her for the candles she'd also brought, telling her a rainstorm was predicted to pass through the next day, Maeve was alone.

Her first day in the cabin had been spent unpacking and unwinding. Mrs. Baird had been kind enough to bring a bottle of Scottish whiskey, telling her," when in Scotland" and Maeve had sampled the liquor, letting it burn her throat as she stared out at the river flowing outside her bedroom window. Her trip had been going great so far, she'd successfully beaten jetlag, had managed not to burn the small kitchen down during her dinner, and she had taken a nice and relaxing show when the rainstorm had shown up the next day. She'd made sure to light a few candles around the place, not wanting to walk around in the dark if the power did go out. Then, of course, everything took a turn for the unexpected when Maeve walked out of the bathroom and was met by a man sleeping in her bed.

By the time she'd walked out of the bathroom again, fully dressed and a little more confident in herself, the power had gone out and the whole cabin had been illuminated with an orange glow coming from the candles. The man was no longer in the bedroom, but the storm outside the window was winding up more and more as the seconds passed. She knew she couldn't make him walk out in the forest during the storm, it was too dangerous and mean in general to kick someone out in the middle of a downpour. So she'd let the guy stay until the storm passed and then they'd both walk down to the main residence and sort out whatever the hell was happening.

"Calum," he mumbled, looking over as Maeve stepped out into the living room, "I'm Calum."

"Maeve," she replied with a nod, "You're not here to murder me, right?"

Calum chuckled and shook his head, which made Maeve warm and sent a shiver down her spine. His smile was nice, a murderer wouldn't have waited for her to get dress unless he was into that, she thought. She'd smiled at him, tugging the sleeves of her sweater down a bit as she looked around the living room. The candles gave the entire room a moody glow, the storm had stopped the sunshine from coming in through the windows and it had felt later on in the day than it actually was.

"So...tea?" she asked softly as she motioned towards the kitchen.

Maeve had found out that Calum, which was a very fitting name for the man sitting across from her watching the rain outside, had been in Scotland for a little over two weeks. He'd been traveling on his own, exploring the smaller cities and seeing what the Highlands had to offer. Maeve had told him about her interview, confessing that she wasn't the most prepared and that these few days before were to help her hopefully calm down. To her surprised, she’d learned that Calum was a professor at a university near his town, both of their widening at the confession of just how similar they were.

"That's exciting, what are you hoping to teach?” Calum asked, his eyes meeting hers in the candlelight, “I specialize in Art History.”

“History,” she nodded, a blush on her cheeks, her eyes glancing down to the cup of tea that had been warming her hands, “I’ve always loved studying it and I want to help others learn about it too.”

“Yeah? I get that. The history department at my school isn’t the best Some older man names Rainer runs it like it’s still warm times,” Calum chuckled, “He’s the worst.”

Maeve laughed, shaking her head as she thought about her fair share of professors who had yet to catch up with the times She thought about what kind of instructor Calum was. It was only his second year teaching so was he the one who made his students excited for lessons ahead? Did he use fun activities and assignments to incorporate them into his plans? Maybe he assigned cool projects, where the main point was to gain a bigger understanding of something a student has been wanting to talk about. Calum seemed like the type and from what Maeve had learned about the man in the short hours she’d known him, she knew he was kind and attentive.

“How was your hike up here?” Calum asked as he set the cup of tea down on the table, his legs stretching out as his head leaned on the back of the couch.

“Hike?” Maeve asked, furrowing her eyebrows as she looked over at him.

“Yeah, I left around like five and didn’t get here until ten,” Calum chuckled and shrugged, “And somehow you look like you just took a leisurely drive up here,” he teased, sitting up as he saw the look on Maeve’s face, “Oh my god, you drove up here, didn’t you?”

"In my defense," Maeve giggled out, holding her arms up, "Mrs. Baird offered to bring me up here"

"Oh, and she forced me to walk for five hours and fall in the mud!?" Calum whined, shaking his head as he let out a groan, "She's so not getting a good review from me, whatever her name may be."

Maeve laughed softly, watching the way Calum ran a hand down his face and pouted over at her. She was surprised at how easily they both got along, usually, Maeve had trouble getting out of her own head and talking to new people. But with Calum things just felt so carefree. She wasn't sure if it was such a good thing, opening up to a complete stranger who had been booked into the same cabin as her, but the rain outside wasn't letting up and she was more than willing to work out a compromise to share with him until the rain stopped and they could take the quad bike Mrs. Baird had told Maeve about before leaving her in the middle of nowhere.

"Do you want to go freshen up? I'm sure your five-hour hike up here more than justifies a nice warm bath," Maeve nodded, giggling as Calum glared playfully over at her, "I'll try and mix something up for lunch?"

"That sounds lovely, if the rain doesn't stop soon I'll make us dinner," Calum shrugged, standing up from the couch and walking over to the entrance of the cabin, gathering his bag and a pile of clothes that Maeve hadn't even noticed were on the floor before making his way over to the bathroom.

The rain had not stopped by the time Calum had gotten out of the bath, much to Maeve’s pleasure since she’d heard his soft voice singing along to whatever song he’d been playing. The rain hadn't stopped while the two ate their lunch, a stew that Maeve had managed to throw together in the tiny kitchen. And the rain had, surprisingly, not stopped while Calum had been bustling around the kitchen a few hours later, making dinner while Maeve read through one of the many books she’d packed with her for her trip If she hadn’t known anything about Scotland before traveling there, she would’ve assumed the Earth was flooding and that her adventure abroad would end before it even started.

It wasn’t until a crack of thunder rocked the walls of the cabin that Maeve realized just how extreme the weather has turned. The window was howling against the windows, shaking the panes with the intensity of it. The power had yet to come back and as the day had gone by, the cabin had only grown gloomier and gloomier. Their only source of light had been the many candles that their host has left them, something Maeve would be eternally grateful for. They crackled and glowed in the darkness of whatever room Maeve would get up to look out the window through. Her shadows mixed with the firelight and danced across the dark walls of the safety she’d come to know in her short stay. The river outside of the house, which was louder now that it was filled with rainwater, had grown taller as Maeve would barely see the giant rocks inside of the river which had caused the small rapids earlier in the day.

It was all terrifyingly beautiful.

Nature had put on a show for her and Calum, letting them in on the secret dance the forest and elements did for one another. The trees danced with the wind, swaying wildly from side to side and switching directions when they pleased. The river water jumped over the stone bridge above it, splashing cold water onto the top and lowering as it sprinkled back down onto itself. The woodland animals, who would be hiding in the safety of their own homes, hidden somewhere Maeve couldn’t quite see but hoped they’d be just as amazed watching the show that the world put on for them. It was all so terrifying and violent, the rain submitting to no one but itself as he disappeared into the river only to come down harder from the clouds in the night sky. It wasn’t until the thunder, which had been singing a song for the forest itself, cracked again that the stone bridge took its final bow.

Maeve watched as the bridge crumbles. It started slowly, one of two big pieces crumbling into the river below as if by accident. But the water was cruel and greedy, splashing upwards and sending more and more stone into its hands. Maeve, who could do nothing more than watch as their only way back out to civilization crumbled and washed away into the river below, gasped and leaned against the window. The glass shook underneath her hands, the wind greeting her palms from the outside and howling in excitement as the once-solid bridge was split into two pieces, never to meet again, as the final act of nature’s show came to an end.

“Did you hear that?” Calum asked as he walked into the bedroom, where Maeve had been watching the show, “Maeve?”

She turned to face the stranger, her wide eyes softening as she was met with the definition of a word she couldn’t place in her brain. Calum had changed into a pair of joggers, the grey material hanging loosely off his hips and only held up by a haphazardly tied knot. His upper half was dressed in a warm green sweater, the color reminding her of the fields of green she’d seen on the train ride to the small town, his board shoulder stretching the fabric a little bit in the candlelight, he looked breathtaking. Maeve knew he was good-looking, it was one of the first things she’d noticed when he’d jumped up from the bed with tired eyes that had been filled with fear. He was beautiful and kind and…stuck with Maeve.

“T-the bridge,” she stuttered out, her cheeks flushing as she realized Calum was still standing in front of her waiting for an answer, “The bridge fell.”

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airi-p4 · 3 years

Text

From above the stars - Chapter 7

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Sorry for the long wait! I’m not forgetting about this story!! I love it and I’m stopping overthinking it so it can progress at last. I hope you enjoy 💙

Chapter summary:

Gabriel offers Marinette something unexpected she can't refuse. At the same time, Luka stops coming to the cemetery, and she can't help but worry: he had promised her he wouldn't disappear...

AO3

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CHAPTER 7 - Lost

Marinette was staring at Luka's only message on her phone, dated from the previous morning (the one he sent to confirm his contact), when she received a SMS: Gabriel Agreste.

She felt uneasy from being summoned again by her late ex-boyfriend's cold father, but despite hating the idea of meeting him, she got ready to pay him a visit. Gabriel Agreste received her coldly as always, but this time, instead of mourning his son, he had an offer she didn’t expect.

"Marinette. I want to reassume the fashion business. I need someone talented to take care of the designs of Agreste’s future collections and I’m confident you could fill in for that job position. I've seen your sketchbooks and Adrien was right: you're very talented."

Marinette didn't know what to say. It's true Adrien had mentioned showing her designs to his father, but he always ended up apologizing because, in the end, Gabriel would never listen to him. Marinette didn't have much time to think as his suggestion progressed.

"Bring me a few new designs the day after tomorrow and we can discuss this matter further. Take it as a test to see if you’re fit for that job position" He asked.

"The- the day after tomorrow…? I- haven't drawn much lately, I'm not sure I can-"

"I'm sure you won't disappoint me. I would really appreciate it if you joined the Agreste empire. You're the only one I can trust"

Marinette felt sick. Not only because of the autoritharism he launched towards her, but also by the word 'trust'. Was it fair he ‘trusted’ her when she was already moving on from the love she used to have for Adrien- his son? Wasn't she betraying both father and son if she accepted Gabriel Agreste's offer? What options did she have, though? She couldn't refuse- she had had her part to blame for the accident and had to take responsibility for her actions. For Adrien...

"Thank you, Mister Agreste. I- I'll try…" she answered unsecure.

"Good. You can go now. You have some designs to work with. See you the day after tomorrow, here, at the same time"

Marinette nodded at Gabriel's cold back in front of her before passing through the main gates of the mansion to the street. She would have been happy to receive a chance like this when she dated Adrien, but now…? She wasn't sure if she wanted it anymore. She knew she needed a job other than helping at her parents' bakery, but how was she supposed to design anything after months without properly working on her fashion designs? Moreover, working with Gabriel made her uneasy. She could already feel the pressure on her shoulders from a task she shouldn't have trouble to accomplish under normal circumstances. These weren't normal circumstances. She didn't belong to the Agreste family anymore, yet she couldn't find the courage to tell Mister Agreste- or worse: to disappoint him. He needed her and she didn't want to fail his expectations- especially when she felt she was partly at fault for his son's passing.

Snapping from her never-ending thoughts about her new job offer, Marinette checked Luka's message on her phone again. ‘Thank you for today’. No matter how many times she read it, it never failed to help her find some calm. Unknowingly, she would always embrace her phone and smile at it. 'I want to see you' Marinette thought on her way to the cemetery, after buying some flowers.

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Marinette knew she was supposed to work on her designs instead of waiting for Luka, but she couldn't stop herself. She waited, patiently, for hours, even for longer than the time he usually left… but nothing: he didn't come.

It wasn't like him to miss his visit to his sisters. Plus, he had promised her he wouldn’t disappear as long as anything unexpected happened. Marinette became anxious. 'Did anything happen to him? Did he catch a cold during the chill night? Did he become wary of her for depending and relying so much on him? Was his promise out of pity?' She couldn't know the answer.

Lonely and distracted, she went to Trocadero, where she usually hung around- either to babysit Manon, to draw and design or on her dates with Adrien- a place full of memories and her favorite corner in Paris. She expected to find the inspiration that used to overflow whenever she held a pencil in her favorite drawing spot.

She sat at the stairs and looked at her surroundings: the majestic Eiffel tower in front of her, the merry-go-round at her right, with cheerful children playing on it, the candy and ice-cream stalls at the left side. A pair of skaters racing, couples, families and groups of friends were also what Marinette's eyes usually enjoyed observing. She tried to look for inspiration on the landscape, but nothing. Her eyes may have been looking at Trocadero, but her head was somewhere else: Luka. She couldn't help but worry something bad may have happened to him.

Inspiration didn't hit as she called it a day. Still concerned, she read Luka's message again before going to sleep.

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The next day the story repeated: her last message was still not marked as read, and Luka didn't appear at the cemetery. Two days in a row without him was starting to be too hard for her heart. She spent the afternoon at Trocadero again, and when she didn't expect it, as a way to cover her impatience and negativity, her solitude, her fears and her desire to meet him became her sole inspiration.

The morning after, Marinette woke up early to go to Agreste's mansion. Gabriel welcomed her with a hug, and soon he asked for her sketchbook. The old man's strict eyes observed: every detail, every color, every choice of fabrics… Marinette could feel his judging eyes on her through her pencil-drawn sketches.

"Marinette" Gabriel called after closing the sketchbook, and turning to face her with piercing eyes. "What's the meaning of this?"

"I- My new designs…" she answered, scared of his glacial look on her.

"This… this is absolutely worthless" he coldly stated, startling Marinette. "I can understand the negative and longing feelings, but this?” he signaled. “This is not Agreste's style. Can you imagine Adrien wearing any of those? What were you thinking? I'm so disappointed…" he sighed.

Marinette gulped and her body was trembling, afraid of the cold man in front of her. She should have imagined her drawings would turn out to be not of Gabriel's likings. It was obvious they didn't fit with Agreste's style, with elegance and high-class as its trademark. She had been inspired by Luka, and the rock style of her newest drawings screamed his name everywhere. But it was the only thing she could come up with in her state, no matter how hard she tried.

"I'm so sorry… Let me re-do them, please" she begged, seeing the chance she had always dreamed about vanish before her eyes at that instant.

"You have one more day. I have great expectations put on you, Marinette. Show me your true potential- the designs my son was fond of"

"Yes sir. Thank you" she bowed her head, quickly excusing herself to walk through the main gates. She was trembling like a little mouse in front of its predator. She needed to throw out those disgusting feelings of inferiority and devaluing. She needed to recover her steady breath and calm. She needed Luka's presence close to keep her feet on the ground. She needed him to keep her sanity.

But, once again, he didn't come to the cemetery. Another day without him around. Another day with growing anxiety and worry. Another day of painful loneliness… but new designs still needed to be done...

Back at Trocadero, she decided to try to keep her head occupied with her drawings. She tried remembering her dates with Adrien- or what she used to base her designs on before.

She remembered walking hand in hand with him, sharing André's ice-cream, sharing one spoon, and being scolded by a baby's mother when she tried to give her baby a candy from the candy stall. She also remembered bumping with the flyer man- Mr Banana- when she had been rushed by Adrien, all his papers flying and scattered on the ground. She still felt a little bad for not helping him recover his flyers (especially when Adrien stepped on some of them). She also remembered riding the merry-go-round with her ‘Prince’ and she, his ‘Princess’. She remembered picnics with their best friends, too. Even the selfish, prideful and arrogant Chloe, Adrien's childhood friend, had finally accepted her as Adrien's girlfriend in front of the Eiffel tower. She wondered where her past friends were now.

The memories she had now were bittersweet- happy but also sad. How much truth and how much fantasy was in her memories? Adrien's perfection had been an illusion of hers. And their mutual friends 'friendship' appeared to be so too, when they hadn't called her in months. At least Chloe still greeted her when they met in the street, and she still brought Adrien flowers once a week. 'What was Gabriel looking for in her designs?' she had asked herself. Her answer was clear- 'the illusion of a perfect life'.

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Gabriel's eyes studied her newest designs the day after. Elegance, class, innovation- Gabriel's lips displayed a faint proud smile under his serious facade and Marinette could finally breathe.

"Marinette. You really are talented. You outdid yourself here" he said, closing her sketchbook to look at her. "I'm going to ask Nathalie to make your designs part of the new collection. With only a few arrangements they'll be perfect. Good job"

"Thank you, Sir", she bowed.

"As promised, I want you to be the new designer of the company. Take it as training. I expect you to become the pillar of this company in a few years". His chin raised to look at her from an upper position. Marinette’s eyes couldn’t possibly open more as she gasped.

"Wha-! With all my respect, I- I don't think I deserve that, Sir" her head sank between her shoulders.

"Nonsense. You're the only one who cared about my son. You're all I have left from him now, my daughter-in-law. You're the only one I can trust" he reassured her with a hand on her shoulders, under his melancholic facial expression. "I count on you"

"Yes, Sir" her mouth automatically responded. Gabriel hugged her in a grateful manner, before stating the work conditions: a full sketchbook of new designs per week. No fixed schedule, just a deadline every Friday. Marinette agreed with the conditions, still doubting her capabilities.

When she stepped out of the mansion, she wanted to scream, to cry, to jump… but most of all she wanted to meet Luka. Three days without him and she already felt like she was losing her mind. She hoped to finally meet him and hug him and tell him how much she had missed him- but nothing: no new flowers on his sisters tombstones apart from hers.

Disappointed and worried, she moved to Trocadero again. Her message to Luka was still unanswered and marked as unread. She contemplated the idea of calling him, but she supposed she would be a nuisance if he was at work- or maybe he was unreachable when he had yet to read her message. She had no claim on him, anyway. There was nothing else she could do. Before she could notice, tears were falling from her eyes.

She must have been showing a very depressing aura, because soon, André Glacier approached to offer her an ice-cream. The candy stall lady offered her a strawberry flavored lollipop and even Mr Banana offered her a paper crafted flower made out of his flyers.

For the first time, Marinette realized she was also part of the landscape she loved the most in Paris, and she was moved by their welcoming affection. The merry-go-round old man also offered her a blanket to rest on the grass. She was exhausted from the swirl of emotions she had been going on these past days and she soon fell asleep. She could have sworn she could hear Luka's guitar nearby- the song he always played- but her eyelids were too heavy to open. 'Luka…' she cried, and she entered dreamland with the feeling of someone's hand softly caressing her hair. Through her almost closed eyes, she could almost swear she saw nails painted in black, but she convinced herself she must have just dreamed it.

That night, she armed herself with courage and sent Luka another message. 'Let's meet tomorrow. I'll wait for you'.

Before going to sleep, she wished to the stars to meet him again… but they must have been angry at her because no one expected a strong windstorm for the next day. Marinette's parents forbade her to go outside in that weather, but she escaped through the back door and fought the winds to go to the cemetery.

'Why am I even here?' she thought, looking at the still unread message. 'There's no way he comes in this weather… I’m such a fool...' Marinette sighed. She could see some tree branches falling down; and cardboards, metallic plates and other pieces of various materials being carried by the windstorm. She sought refuge behind the Couffaine's family mausoleum, wishing for their forgiveness as the clock hit Luka's usual curfew.

He didn't come. Again.

Defeated, she reached for her phone: no new messages. 'What was the point of being there when he was obviously not going to come?' She felt stupid. And maybe she was. She probably was. Stupidly in love, she realized. Was she even allowed to love someone she had hurt so much? Did she even deserve his attention? Or his help? Will he ever come back to her? Was he even real?

She was losing her mind.

The strong howling winds were covering her loud painful shriek. Her hoarse throat felt ready to tear anytime as her crying amplified. When was the last time she cried like that? Right. After her first visit to Adrien's grave- months ago, when she first met with Luka.

"Luka… I miss you… I want to see you… please… I need to know you haven't left me behind too… please… don't leave me alone… Please… I need to know you're safe… I need you..." she cried in exhaustion, her body curled, sinking her head between her knees. With one last check on her phone, she lost all her hope: no new messages, despite the message marked now as read.

He willingly ignored her, she supposed, devastated. He didn't want to meet with her, didn't he? She was abusing his kindness when his suffering was worse than hers. And his sisters… Of course he would secretly hate her… Maybe living had no point anymore, she thought, utterly defeated by the depression she had been fighting since she woke up in that hospital room. Maybe it was her destiny, or a curse. Once again, she was surrounded by her inner darkness.

‘Maybe it’s time to give up…'

"Marinette!" She could hear someone calling. Probably her imagination, she assumed. "Marinette!" The same voice repeated- Luka's voice. She thought she was at the border of losing her sanity when he called again "Marinette!", but this time he appeared in front of her, sweating, with his hair messy from the wind.

If it weren't for how he ran to hug her immediately, she would have convinced herself he was a product of her imagination. But the touch was real. He was real. And he was there with her. "Luka…!" She cried, clinging to his clothes.

"What are you doing here in this windstorm? Haven't you seen the news? It's dangerous! You could have injured yourself" he scolded her, panicking and worrying. "What would I do if anything happened to you…?" he whispered, so low she wouldn't have heard him if his mouth weren't almost touching her ear.

"Luka... Luka! I was- so scared! And worried! I- I've missed you so much!" She screamed between whimpers, as her arms grip tightened around him.

"I'm here Marinette, it's ok. Sorry for being late" he apologized, hugging her tightly. "I'm so sorry"

"Luka, I-" before she could continue, two voices joined the wind sounds.

"Marinette?" "Marinette!"

"My parents," she gasped, recognizing their voices.

With his usual gentleness, Luka offered her his hand and helped her stand up, but she refused to let go of him.

"Go with them. They must be worried" Luka said in his usual calmed voice.

"But-"

"I'll be here as usual as soon as the weather allows me to. Rest assured". His hands on her shoulders were more reassuring than the unreadable look on his face, but he sounded sincere to Marinette and she decided to trust him.

"But- what happened? Why didn't you answer my messages? She cried. "You promised you wouldn’t willingly disappear and yet… I was so worried something bad could have happened to you..."

"I'm sorry, Marinette… Something happened, it’s true, but-” he looked away and took a deep breath before looking at the directions Marinette’s parents' voices came from. “I'll tell you next time. You better go now. Your parents sound very worried"

"Will you really come again?" Marinette asked, squeezing his hand, scared of him disappearing again.

"I promise. I won’t fail you again” He nodded. “Now go."

Marinette was hesitant, but she finally let go of his hand and started walking towards her parents' voices, encouraged by Luka's hurt smile and his slight push on her back.

"Mom! Dad!" She cried, running to hug them.

"Marinette! We were so worried! Why did you escape? It's dangerous! What if anything happened to you, all alone here…" her mother hugged her.

"No, mom. I wasn't alone… I was with-" she turned to signal Luka, but he was nowhere to be found. 'Did she imagine it?' she frowned her eyebrows in disappointment.

"Let's go home" her father said, with his arm behind her back.

Sad and confused, Marinette looked back once again, wondering if her meeting with Luka had just been a product of her imagination. But when she looked back again, he was indeed there, watching them from afar.

In relief, Marinette waved back at him, but he walked away- not before Marinette's mother caught a glimpse of him.

"See, mom? Luka was with me!" She signaled, noticing how she had seen him too. Sabine’s reaction was not what Marinette expected. She had a look Marinette’ had never seen before on her mother’s face: a mix of anger, sadness and fear. Her words only amplified the bad vibrations she was giving off.

"Marinette. You should stay away from that man" she coldly warned her daughter.

Marinette was confused. "Why?"

"Just stay away from him, please"

Why? Why did she have to stay away from Luka? Why would her mother dislike him? Did she know him? Why did it feel like everyone was keeping secrets from her?

Marinette didn't plan to listen to her mother. No matter how massive was the concern and fear her face reflected.

#airip4 #my fic #lukanette fic #fic: from above the stars #endgame lukanette #Pro LukaMari #lukanette #sorry for the long wait!

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capituloperdido1 · 3 years

Text

ACOSAS

Hello everyone! As always please let me know if you have any feedback or want to be added to the taglist.

Enjoy!

Warnings: Mention of SA and anxiety.

Chapter 2

The day had arrived.

She was leaving to the day court today, she was finally leaving the safety of the library.

Gwyn had begun to prepare as soon as dinner had been over, she had talked to Clotho and Merril; the latter had reluctantly accepted and had sent her with even more research prompts to look over during her stay in the Day Court. Cassian had given her a full month schedule of training, and had ensured that she packed the Valkyrae uniform as well as her favorite dagger. Nesta and Emerie had given her a list of souvenirs to bring back; which included an autographed book of one her their favorite smut writer, who happened to be a member of the Day Court.

Everyone seemed ready for her to leave.

Everyone but her.

As much as it excited her, the terror in her bones had not let her enjoy the idea of the outside world.

As she took the last of her bags up to the house, she began to lose herself into her thoughts; who really ensured her that everything would be okay?

Last time she had been in the outside world she had been kidnapped and forced to a crazy Illyrian trial.

The time before that, well... it was better not to remember.

She was not ready to see other people, specially not men.

She looked up and notice that she was in the middle of the stairs leading to the house, with her hand in her chest and bag thrown in the floor.

Was she ready?

She wanted to be.

What was that she had promised her sisters?

Never again.

Never Again.

It was time to see the world.

-.-.-.-.-.

Azriel had been looking at Nesta for an hour, his sister in law had been going on the different things he needed to remember in order to keep Gwyn safe.

-And remember, she told me she was allergic to some types of flowers; and since i don't remember which ones they are it is just better if you just don't let her near flowers- Nesta said.

-Flowers... Nesta what are you saying?- Cassian said, -Gwyn is not a child you are leaving for Azriel to babysit, she is your friend-

He smiled, he knew Nesta a was protective over Gwyn; he understood it himself, even if he never showed it. He also understood the courage and bravery from the priestess to leave the library. He would ensure that nothing would happen to her, he would protect her and help her; even if that meant she could not see any flowers.

His shadows had been singing with excitement since Gwyn had accepted the offer, he had to admit he was excited as well. It was the first mission he had ever done that did not require murder at the end of it, he was protecting someone precious to the court, his family and even if he would not admit it, himself.

This would also be a time for him to think over his actions of the past few months, being away from the one Archeron sister he had tried to avoid.

He had been selfish, he knew that.

Before he could think more about the subject, the light voice of the priestess interrupted his thoughts -Nesta, i am not allergic to flowers- she said.

Azriel smiled instantly, she really knew how to make everyone feel better just by talking.

-I'm ready- she said approaching him.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Rhys had arranged to winnow them to the border of the Night Court and the Day Court, where Helion would be expecting them to take them to his palace. According to Rhys, it had been Helion's idea to show Gwyn the beauty of the day court. Rhys had warned the priestess to be careful of the weather; the day court had the hardest summers, second only to the summer court. But according to Rhys, the cold of the Autumn arrived faster and stronger than in other courts.

Rhysand was right.

The border of the night court and the day court was cold in that afternoon, made even colder because of their surroundings. The forest that separated both courts was now attacked by heavy rushes of wind. It made Gwyn overwhelmed, as if the mother had chosen the coldest weather to make her body colder than it already was. She felt chills running through her body at the sight of the trees; it reminded her of the Blood Rite.

Vile had risen to her throat.

She was trying so hard to control it, her nerves and her thoughts. But taking this step had been harder than she would admit, specially because being surrounded by trees did not allow her to see the sun; it also did not seem to have an exit.

The sound galloping coming near them startled her, and the sight of 3 gold carriages with the most majestic white stallions waited came into view. Stopping barely feet away from them, the carriage doors opened; out of them stepped a beautiful man wearing a gold crown on top of his long black hair. His white robe showed off the beauty of his brown skin, and his smile made his face even more beautiful.

-Gwyn, this is Helion, High Lord of the Day Court- Rhysand mentioned.

Instantly, Gwyn bowed in front of the man; nervousness and fear creeping upon her.

-It is a pleasure to meet you Valkyrae, we have heard wonders about you- Helion said, his voice smooth and soft. -Thank you for coming to my court, i am hoping your stay will be enjoyable and you'll get to see real beauty; the night court has nothing on us-.

She smiled shyly, unsure of sharing her voice with the male.

A tingly feeling on her hand distracted her, she looked over her hand to find a shadow circling her hand as if trying to calming her. She breathed, the shadow giving her a sense of security.

Thank you Azriel.

-Thank you for having me, my lord-she said

Helion smiled broadly, -you heard that Rhys? She is respectful, unlike you and your friends -.

The two lords embraced each other and continued talking.

Gwyn did not listen.

She looked over to the shadowsinger, who seemed oblivious of the shadow on her hand. Maybe it had escaped from his side; maybe he had not sent it.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Helion had given her and Azriel their own carriage, he had made it a point to give her as much space as possible. She was deeply grateful for that.

He had explained that his palace was upon a mountain, surrounded by the main city; he had called it Lux, the city of light.

-Have you even been in the Day Court?- she asked Azriel.

-Yes, but it has been a while- he answered.

The sight of the end of the forest welcomed her, and as Gwyn peered out the carriage window she was graced with the most beautiful green fields. Grass and flowers of every color decorated the mountains, the smell of clear air filled her nose; the day court was beautiful.

The small village homes with farm animals became more frequent as they travel up the mountains, and as the city became clear, she found that the houses of the city circled the palace sitting at the top of the mountain.

The palace was clear, shining and reflecting the last of the sunshine; it was decorated with gold and silver, sculptures of every mythical animal at the top of every tower.

Beyond the palace, the sea was the perfect companion of the city; the sun reflected in the water transforming the transparent liquid into golden waters.

-I... this is beautiful- she said, tears threatening to come.

-it really is- Azriel responded.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

The initial annoyance of having to spend time with Helion was erased at the sight of Gwyn enjoying the view of the Day Court, it was worth it, if it made her smile as she did right now.

He had to admit, the sight was beautiful. The landscape of the Day Court was always one of his favorites. Even if the palace was rather flashy and not very secure.

-We should take a walk on the beach one day- he said to her.

She smiled even brighter -that sounds like a plan shadowsinger-.

Once they arrived, Helion organized a staff of females to guide Gwyn into the palace. Hesitant to leave Gwyn by herself, he sent a shadow to follow her. His shadows obey his every command, even the unconscious ones; he had felt Gwyn's distress when they winnowed into the Night Courts Border, and his mind had told him to do anything to calm her down. It wasn't until he felt her staring at him that he noticed how a shadow circled her hand in comfort.

It surprised him, again.

But he was glad that the dark power he possessed could be used for something good at last.

Helion approached him smiling, -I hope your stay will be enjoyable, i have accommodated your old room. I hope you don't mind-. Azriel felt heat rising to his cheeks, Helion knew how to make things awkward.

-Thank you, my lord- he responded.

He laughed, grabbing his shoulders -let's go, i'll invite you to a drink-.

The palace had not changed much since Azriel had been there, the same extravagant gold decorations shined in every corner of the building. Helion had changed the colors of the furniture into creams and whites, accentuating the light and life that the glass windows provided.

-I was surprised when Rhysand told me it was you who was coming, i thought he would sent Cassian- Helion started, -it seems as if your high lord was adamant to keep you away from Velaris, i wonder why that is-.

Azriel followed the male into the only room that had stone walls. Helion's study had dark wooden shelves in the left side of the room, with a golden map of Prythian as the center table and wooden chairs surrounding it. This was the only place of the castle the high lord never changed, the place where only his trusted people entered.

-I am sure he had his reasons- Azriel responded.

-Rhysand is worried about you- Helion started

Right to business then.

-I am unsure of what you mean- Azriel responded.

Helion scuffed, -Azriel, drop the formalities. It is me who you are talking to. I have known you for longer than most of your friends, i know you - Grabbing a set of cups, the high lord served him what smelled like whiskey.

They sat across each other, the high lord had taken his crown off and was looking at him with deep seriousness. -Rhysand has commented about your fixation with a certain female of his court, someone who according to him you can't love-.

Well then, why was Rhysand sharing that with Helion?

He was going to kill his High Lord.

-How does this involve you?- Azriel said, adding bite into his tone.

-Because i have been in your shoes, shadowsinger- the male said. -I have had many partners in my life, but no one will fill my heart as she did-.

He knew who Helion was talking about.

-But you don't see her in my arms, do you?- Helion continued, -That is because she made a choice, one that i was not okay with; but she choose him over seeing us both being killed-

A silent moment passed, Azriel daring to look at the powerful man in front of him.

-Beron is not her mate, i am. And there is a reason why i am not besides her, even though we have loved each other for centuries- Helion explained - He became obsessed with the idea of owning her, and was blinded by how much he thought he deserved her. She chose to reject our mating bond, and to stay by his side forever.-

-I do not resent her, rather i love her even more for her bravery. I have spent every living moment praying the mother to give me her courage, courage to challenge Beron and save her. But i am unable to- dropping his head, Helion's voice dropped as he talked -Azriel, i am not here to tell you who to love; i am here to tell you that the choice is not yours, or the fox boys. The choice is Elain's-.

Azriel knew that, he knew Elain was not a price to be fought over.

-I am also here to tell you that this trip is not only to find the fourth trove, but also to find yourself- Helion continued, -You will not do any spy work, no torture or military work. You will simply assist and protect the priestess warrior as much as she needs you. Take this as a chance to think about the decisions you have made over the last centuries, it will be the first time you're away from your family for so long. -

-Did Rhysand say that?- he responded.

-No. This is me talking as a friend - Helion answered, -If you find that at the end of this you actually love her, then go for it. But if you find that there might be another reason over your fixation of her, maybe it is time to let your idea of love go. Maybe it is time to relearn what you think being with someone is-.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Gwyn loved her room, the white furniture and rose gold accentuation made her feel peaceful and happy. A canopy bed at the end of the room with curtains of flowers seemed like the most comfortable and cozy thing she seen. There was a small study and pair of shelves on one side; the changing room and bathroom connected with one another, forming practically a hallway on the side of the room.

This was the fanciest thing she ever experienced.

Dropping the last of her bags Gwyn decided to take a bath before going to bed, the females who had helped her get in her room had told her that supper would be in the individual rooms for today; giving them time to rest to begin working tomorrow.

Once she had bathed, changed and ate; she sat on the fancy bed, immediately feeling the softness of the mattress. Laying down, Gwyn prayed that the bed would allow her to have better dreams; maybe she would finally be able to sleep without being awaken by nightmares, maybe all she needed was a comfortable mattress.

Screams of children sounded loud in her ears, Gwyn awoke in the hard bed from the temple of Sangravah.

Where was her sister?

She stood, looking for her sibling as her ears adjusted to the sounds of screams. Someone was here, someone was hurting the girls at the temple.

-Gwyn- Catrin said, -we need to keep them safe-.

Her sister came towards her with almost a dozen children trailing behind her. -What is happening?- Gwyn muttered

-They are here, Hybern is here. You need to get out of here, take the kids to the lake exit. I will stall them- Her sister gave her a small hand to hold on to. Unable to say anything Gwyn saw her sister go into the source of the screams.

Don't go, she wanted to say, you'll die.

Let me go, you deserve to be alive. Not me.

The high pitch of her sister's scream ringed in her ears, Gwyn could do nothing as she heard her sisters voice begging for the males not to touch her. She heard the laughter of the men as they took turns on her, she felt the cries of other priestesses as they all suffered the same fate.

And Gwyn did nothing,

Gwyn stood in place, paralyzed by fear.

Letting everyone around her die, at the hands of Hybern.

Startled, sweaty and with tears filling her eyes, Gwyn awoke from her nightmare.

She did not know where she was.

Panicking, she ran outside of the door. She needed to escape, needed to get back to the library; she was not in Velaris.

As she opened the door frantically, the door in front of her was opened with a thud.

She stood still, shaking and unable to say anything.

A male figure came out of the door rushing towards her; she flinched.

-Gwyn... Gwyn it's me- the male voice said.

She knew the voice, she knew the male talking to her.

Her vision became clearer, as she took a pair of honey eyes looking worried at her. She took in the golden brown skin, the short trimmed hair. She scented night-chilled mist and cedar.

Recognizing the male, she let her vulnerability show.

Gwyn dropped to her knees, letting the weight of the dream settle upon her.

She was safe, she was in the day court.

She was not alone.

She was with Azriel.

TAGLIST:

@imsointobooks , @gwynkyrie

#gwyn acotar #gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel #azriel fanfic #fanfic #acotar #post acosf #nesta archeron #nesta and gwyn #acotar fanfiction

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cherrynojutsu · 3 years

Text

Title: Like Gold

Summary: Sasuke grapples with love and intimacy regarding his developing relationship with Sakura after returning to the village from his journey of redemption. Kind of a character study on Sasuke handling an intimate relationship after dealing with PTSD and survivor’s guilt in solitude for so long. Blank period, canon-compliant, Sasuke-centric, lots of fluff and pining, slowly becomes a smut fest with feelings.

Disclaimer: I did not write Naruto. This is a fan-made piece solely created for entertainment purposes.

Rating: M (eventual nsfw-ness)

AO3 Link - FF.net Link - includes beginning/ending author's notes

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Chapter 3/?: Focalize

It is a tranquil spring evening by the time Sakura appears within view behind the hospital's glass entryway, a blur of carnation and sage and ivory. It is just a few minutes past seven; it seems she is waving goodbye to what he assumes is the receptionist further into the building, out of sight. Then she’s pushing one of the doors open with her shoulder and coming into focus, pastel colors subdued in dusk.

Sasuke notices she’s carrying a plain tote bag, and that there are also two large books and what looks like something reminiscent of a magazine in her hands, neatly stacked and held to her chest. She is wearing a sweater that is slightly oversized, a desaturated green.

Her face lights up when she sees him standing there, leaning against one of the blue columns situated a few steps away, closer to the road; her expression belays something like a mixture of ardor and avidity, and as she approaches, he also observes her cheeks match her hair.

His heart swells pleasantly in his chest; any shred of loneliness he felt in the past few hours dissolves.

“Sasuke-kun,” she chimes in affectionate greeting as she ambles over to him, all lenity and upturned lips.

“Sakura.” Her eyes flash lighter, more vibrant, as she gets closer; they are reflecting glow from a nearby streetlight that flipped on promptly at seven, an electrified yellow-green.

There is a short moment in time where they just gaze at each other, scant amount of steps between them, an oblivion of chartreuse and charcoal in spring twilight.

“How was your first day back?” She finally asks, smiling up at him.

He thinks it over for a second as he studies her, a gentle breeze of springtide. “...Fine. I saw Kakashi and the dobe.”

Her smile shifts into a knowing one. “I’m going to guess paperwork and Ichiraku’s.”

He pulls the health screening forms out of his pocket in answer, and her dimple makes an appearance.

“You can come by tomorrow just after eight in the morning, if that works for you; I’ll be here.” Different hours than today, then, he presumes.

He feels he should clarify that she’s not coming in early just for his sake. “...Shouldn’t I make an appointment?”

Sakura shakes her head. “Thursdays and Fridays I don’t have appointments or surgeries until a little later in the day. The majority of those mornings are set aside for medical research and correspondence with some of the clinics. As long as it’s before eleven, I can step away from things for a bit.”

Research. Interesting. She hadn't mentioned much about that in her letters; he hadn't realized it was something she did regularly. “What kind of research?”

She blinks in surprise, and he thinks she looks a little sheepish. “...It depends. Right now we’re doing some longitudinal studies on mice; behavioral assessment in accordance with certain stimuli, neurobiological response, brain scans, that sort of thing... I’ve also got some poisons I’m looking at for antidote development, but they’re pretty rare, so it’s not super pressing.”

His eyes flick to the books in her arms, a silent question. Her lips quirk upwards even more, then; he tries not to focus on them for too long, because she’s shifting the texts so he can read the titles. The thin magazine-like one is labeled Progress in Neuro-Psychopharmacology and Biological Psychiatry; it must be a research journal. The top book reads Neuroanatomy Through Clinical Cases, and the other reads Molecular Mechanisms of Neurotransmitter Release.

“...Some light reading,” he comments dryly, his version of a joke, and he revels in her soft exhale of breath, a shy version of a laugh. He has missed it.

“I suppose. I actually need to return these; they’re almost due. I meant to do it yesterday, but...” She’s blushing again. Vivid eyes meet his hesitantly before sweeping away. “...I forgot.”

Heat edges up his neck.

“I… wasn’t sure what you wanted to do this evening,” she continues, pursing her lips a little as her fingers clutch the books closer to her again. “I thought maybe we could swing by the library? I’d like to take a quick look to see if they have some new things in yet; it shouldn’t take very long.”

Sasuke muses that Sakura absolutely is the type to visit the library regularly. He used to go often, when he was younger. He wasn’t checking out books of that caliber, though; he wonders how long she’s had them. He also ponders momentarily if rogue ninja status is enough for the powers that be to revoke your library card from the system. Probably.

He hasn’t been able to read regularly for awhile, being away; books have been unnecessary weight, something extra to carry, and also a distraction from what he was trying to accomplish. Though he would accompany her wherever regardless, he realizes he would like to start reading again. It would be something to occupy his free time, when she is busy.

He nods his assent.

“Okay,” she breathes, looking a little relieved and meeting his eyes again, luminescent jade. "They close at eight today, so we should probably get going."

He nods again, glancing down at the books still in her arms. He considers for a second, then holds his hand out. Sakura blinks in confusion, long lashes skimming her cheekbones.

“...I’ll carry them,” he offers, neck heating up again as she stares. “...If you’d like.”

Her skin blooms with color, darker than earlier. “Oh. Thank you.” She hands them to him carefully, soft fingers brushing his. Her touch is delicate, incredibly distracting; her glowing cheeks, even moreso.

She adjusts her bag over her shoulder and then turns; he falls into step next to her as if it's the most natural thing in the world.

They walk just east of the hospital, which tells him the library is likely still in the same location, despite Konoha’s changing landscape. Some of the buildings they pass along the way are under construction. That seems to be a recurring theme in the village right now; much of what he saw earlier today passing through with Naruto was the same. Sasuke wonders if the library will have expanded, too. He doesn’t think he’s passed by it, yet.

There are a few people milling about, but not nearly as many as earlier. He supposes the majority of residents must be retired for the evening, inside their homes with family. There are a few restaurants they pass that smell fairly appetizing, but Sakura doesn’t say anything, so he concludes he was right in thinking that she has eaten already.

“So, how were things with Kakashi-sensei and Naruto?” Sakura asks conversationally, peering up at him from his right. “Anything other than paperwork?”

Sasuke contemplates before responding. “...Naruto and I went apartment hunting.”

Pink brows furrow a little bit as she grins. “Did you invite him?” She asks, though he suspects by her expression she already knows the answer.

He shakes his head. “Kakashi mentioned it as I was leaving and he invited himself.”

She laughs, then, glancing in the direction of the mountain of faces at their old sensei. “Yeah, that sounds like him. He probably appreciated a morning with Naruto out of his hair. He’s been helping there a lot, when he’s not on missions.” She pauses, then adds, “I imagine apartment hunting with Naruto would be pretty draining, though. He’s gotten a little better at cooling it with the nonstop chatter since Hinata, but not by a ton.” She stops again, thinking, before inquiring, “Did you end up finding a place?”

Sasuke nods. “It’s north of here.”

She smiles again, then purses her lips as if she’s considering whether to say something more or not. Finally she adds, green eyes darting to his and then looking away shyly, “...Not too far away, then.”

His gaze softens. “...Not too far.”

They amble by a few street vendors selling gardening supplies, closing up carts for the evening; they must be doing fairly well, as all that’s left over from the day's plantable wares are saplings here and there, and a few starters, small labels detailing their required care poking up from the dirt containers they’re sitting in. There are several taller displays interspersed between carts, stocked with watering cans, spades, gloves, and the like. Sasuke thinks it is quite trusting of the merchants to leave their goods out overnight, evidently without fear that they will be stolen or damaged; many of them are walking away holding only money boxes. It speaks to the relative security of Konoha, in comparison to most of the places he's been.

“Did you get everything you needed for your apartment today?” Sakura asks him after they meander a few more steps.

He blinks. “...Mostly."

“Was there something in particular you wanted to do, after the library? We could stop by a store, if they’re open, and get what you're missing.”

He shakes his head, then admits, “I… didn’t have anything planned.” He worries, then, that maybe he was supposed to plan something. They’re together now, or at least he hopes they are; he'd kissed her, and he would like to, again, if they're alone. Maybe this should have been more formal. He then thinks he should answer the second part of her inquiry: a box and a drying rack would probably be easy to find at a general store, but the majority of places in Konoha that are open past seven only sell food. “...I think the store I went to closed at seven,” he adds.

Sakura looks as if she’s deliberating again. “What are you missing, still?” He notices she doesn’t seem upset that he didn’t plan anything; maybe it’s okay.

It takes him a moment to respond, carefully. “...A small storage box, and a laundry rack.”

She brightens. “I actually have a spare drying rack that I'm not using, if you want it. The washing machine in my unit broke in February, and when my landlady replaced it, she got a washer/dryer combo.” She thinks, then adds, “...And I think I have an empty shoebox in my closet; would that be big enough?”

Something like serendipity unfolds in Sasuke’s chest and begins to vine between his ribs. He thinks unbidden of the blooming cherry blossom tree he can see from his window, just within reach, if he only goes beyond the glass.

He nods. “...Thank you.”

Multifaceted eyes peer up at him warmly. “No problem.” Her cheeks darken again. “We could… walk for a while, and then swing by there at the end. If you want.” Her fingers are gripping the strap of her bag a little tighter. “I wouldn’t mind walking by your building at some point before that, so I… so I know where it is.”

Sasuke nods again, heart skipping a little. He had hoped she would show him where her apartment is tonight, too; he would like to walk her home. He also hopes ‘walk for a while’ means he gets to spend more time with her between the library and going by his building, before they go to hers.

He thinks maybe he should voice that. It comes out as a question. “...We could walk around a bit after the library?”

She’s gazing up at him with red cheeks and smiling with a gentle light in her eyes. “...I’d like that,” she murmurs.

His ears feel warm again.

They turn a corner, and then they are at the library. There is a small expanded portion of the building on the south side now, and it is painted a slightly different mauve-leaning gray than it used to be, but otherwise it appears the same. When they near the entrance, Sakura pulls open the door for him, since his hand is occupied.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, before they head inside, bell on the door jingling.

The librarian working at the front desk nods at Sakura in recognition as they enter, a fairly young woman with chestnut hair. The librarian Sasuke remembers was quite a bit older, elderly now that he’s thinking about it. He briefly wonders if she passed away in his absence. The thought makes him morose; he hopes she just retired. She had always been kind to him.

“Finished with those already, Sakura?” The woman asks, friendly and motioning to the books in Sasuke’s arm as he makes his way to the desk to set them down, Sakura beside him. She must know her well.

“Yes; the journal was interesting, this time. Very relevant to the experiments we're running, and much more substantial than the last edition.” There is something somewhat critical in her voice regarding the referenced last edition, as if something in it wasn’t up to her academic standards. She’s well within reason to be captious; she has become an expert in her field in a rapid amount of time, and if she’s doing research regularly, he’s sure she has the data to back up her assessment. He wonders just what kind of experiments she’s running that have to do with neuro-psychopharmacology; whatever they are, he imagines they must be complex.

The woman is wearing a name tag that reads Ichika, Sasuke can see now that they’re closer. Sakura pulls out what must be her library card from her tote bag; it’s connected to a lanyard with several keys and what he presumes is an ID badge for the hospital.

“Thank you," the librarian says as Sakura hands her card over. As she does so, the woman glances at Sasuke with brown eyes, and then back to Sakura, as if waiting for an introduction. “And this is?”

“This is Sasuke,” she answers, smiling, then adds, “Uchiha.”

“Welcome,” the woman named Ichika greets him, without any malice. Sasuke wonders if she just doesn’t know who he is, or if she’s being friendly because of Sakura’s presence. Maybe it’s because she’s a civilian.

“...Thank you,” he offers sincerely after a moment.

“It was nice of you to carry those books. I know from experience they’re quite heavy. My name’s Ichika.” She gestures to her name tag. “I don’t suppose you like to read as much as Sakura does?” Ichika laughs as she hands Sakura’s card back and starts scanning the books as returned. “I think by now there are more books in the library that she’s read than ones she hasn’t.”

Sasuke glances at Sakura knowingly, and she looks downwards bashfully for a second.

“...I like to, but I don't think I’d understand half of what’s in these,” Sasuke answers honestly, turning his gaze back to the librarian. He sees Sakura flush out of the corner of his eye.

Ichika laughs. Sasuke thinks then that she really must not know of his prior rogue ninja status. “I usually have her write down the titles of the books she’d like us to add, because I don’t know that I can even spell some of the words.” She squints at the last book. “ Molecular Mechanisms of Neurotransmitter Release. I haven’t the faintest idea what a neurotransmitter is, or what it would be releasing.”

Sakura smiles. “Neurotransmitters are the body’s chemical messengers. A release is when the neurotransmitter causes a response in the receiving neuron; they can be disrupted in diseases and biological toxins. Tetanus is a good example; it goes up synaptic terminals of interneurons where it blocks the release of inhibitory neurotransmitters. The result of the block is that motorneurons become overactive, and then cause muscle contractions and spastic paralysis, like lockjaw.”

Ichika blinks blankly. “I don’t know where you keep that information in your head, Sakura, because it certainly wouldn’t fit in mine. Guess I’ll try not to step on any nails in the meantime.” She’s shaking her head, but her tone is amicable. “Well, they’re all checked in, with a few days to spare. I left out the new journals and that other book you asked about in the usual spot, back in the Medicine section.”

Sakura nods, and the librarian’s gaze turns back to him.

"Would you like a library card?”

Sasuke is glad he won’t have to ask. “...I used to have one. I’m not sure if it’s still on file.”

“I can check our records, if you want to browse in the meantime. If it’s not still on file, we can set you up with a new one; you can take books today either way, if you find some you’re interested in.”

Sasuke nods; that was easier than he thought it would be. “...Thank you.” Ichika turns to approach a row of filing cabinets a bit further back behind the main desk area, he assumes to check for his name in their database; he turns to Sakura.

She’s smiling at him as if she wants to ask him a question, but she doesn’t say anything. When she turns to journey further back into the library, he follows. They pass through two interior rooms, organized by genre and alphabet just the same as they had been years ago. The shelves are a little fuller than they used to be; with the population expanding, it makes sense that they now have a wider selection available.

They turn a corner to another interior room, and suddenly he sees a familiar face. His replacement is hunched over in a corner, nose buried in a book that appears from its cover to be about painting. When Sasuke inspects the rest of the room, he sees that the majority of the books in this section have titles related to art.

“Oh, hey, Sai,” Sakura greets casually, heading over to him. Dark eyes glance up at her from his book. Seeing him here must be a regular occurrence, given her lack of surprise.

"Hello, Ugly,” he responds, somehow both cheerful and monotone all at once. Sasuke frowns. He’d been around Sai a few times following the war, before he left for his travels. He never liked his nickname for Sakura.

Sai then looks to him, still standing at the threshold of the room, keeping his distance. He knows him, but not well.

“Welcome back, Traitor," he adds, tone friendly enough. Sasuke supposes that one’s fair. He inclines his head minutely, hand in his pocket.

Sai twists his gaze back to Sakura. "Have you recovered from your birthday extravaganza?"

Sakura blanches and stiffens a little in surprise as Sasuke eyes her with great interest; clearly this was not something she’d expected to be asked about. "Uh… Yeah. It doesn't take long; I eat during and can heal my headache the morning after."

Sai nods. “Yes, Beautiful said you didn’t get nearly as plastered as she wanted you to.” The way he says it is with way too positive of an inflection, as if he’s talking about it being great weather outside instead of crude wording for getting drunk.

Sakura rolls her eyes, then. “She would think that.” She pauses, then looks at Sai carefully. "Ino should be back tonight, right?"

"Yes. I am excited. I'm feeling quite amorous."

Sasuke twitches and his frown sinks deeper, but Sakura rolls her eyes as if she is used to this lack of filter, and gently pushes his book into his face, firmly but carefully so as not to damage it.

"Too much information. Just say you miss her."

Sai smiles as he moves the book away. "It is less information than Beautiful gives."

"That's because she's not normal," Sakura replies, sighing. Sai nods almost mechanically, as if he is cataloging this tidbit on human social interaction away in a filing cabinet for future reference.

There is a pause that is just a bit too long, before Sai offers, “I am researching for an upcoming painting.” Sasuke doesn’t know Sai well enough to understand, but Sakura does; apparently this is his way of telling her that he is busy with his book.

"I won’t keep you, then. Don't let her forget about our plans, though, and tell her I missed our spar this week."

Sai smiles. "She was preparing a new playlist prior to her mission." This also interests Sasuke, but not as much as Ino trying to get her ‘plastered’. He is for some reason having great difficulty imagining Sakura even a little drunk.

Sakura sighs deeply through her nose this time, and says flatly, with no enthusiasm, "Great.” After a beat, she adds, “Well anyways, tell her I say hi. See you. Good luck with your painting.”

Sai nods, and Sakura then turns to go a different direction, Sasuke following close behind. They pass through four more interior rooms before they finally make it to the Medicine section towards the back of the building, where one book and two more medical journals are sectioned neatly away in an empty portion of shelf. The book is just as thick as the one she’d just returned.

“I didn’t know you liked to read, still,” Sakura mentions as she carefully picks up the stack. She’s smiling at him again; that must be what she wanted to say earlier. Maybe she’d expected Sai would be there, that they would pass through the room he was sitting in, and that’s why she’d held off.

Sasuke nods. “...I haven’t read much in a while.”

Jade eyes are soft on his. “Well, if you want to look for a bit, I could look, too.”

He nods again.

XXX

Roughly twenty minutes later, Sasuke leaves the library with Sakura, comparing what they’ve checked out underneath the streetlight just outside; the light has faded enough that it is a bit difficult to read without it.

They still had his information on file after all, though the woman, Ichika, had him fill out a renewal slip and updated his contact information to his new address before giving him a new card. It is a strangely comforting and nostalgic feeling, to know that he was still present in the archives of Konoha in ways he had been unaware of.

He had picked out two books: one about the history of kenjutsu in Fire Country, and another historical text documenting the overthrow of the daimyo in the Land of Silence. He has never been there, given it is beyond the reach of Shinobi authority; he figured it would be interesting to read about. With it being a samurai-led country, it made sense to read at the same time as the book on kenjutsu.

“These sound like you,” Sakura says after scanning the titles of what he’s picked, glancing up at him kindly as she rotates so he can read the information of her own. Cradled in her arms are the Journal of Cognitive Neuroscience, the other scholarly journal, Human Brain Mapping, the book from the Medicine section titled Translational Research in Traumatic Brain Injury, and what appears to be a fiction book, an addition to the others, titled Spoiled Suitopi.

“You read fiction, too,” he observes as he reads the title of the last one, and she takes this as her cue to shift them back together neatly into one stack, largest to smallest.

She laughs a little. “I try to. It’s a good mental reset after reading medical texts; everything starts to blur together after a while. This was actually a recommendation from Ino; she’s into the dramatic stuff, clearly. Sometimes they’re decent.”

Curiosity gets the better of him, and he decides to ask. “...A birthday extravaganza?”

She smiles timidly, expression shifting to something a little embarrassed. “I wouldn’t call it that; she showed up at my apartment last weekend with ingredients for drinks, and then we watched terrible movies in my living room.”

Sasuke is learning all kinds of things about Sakura this evening. “No Sai?”

She shakes her head. “No, that’s a me and Ino thing; he doesn’t really pick up on the nuance of them being terrible, and we figure we don’t want to give him poor examples to follow… he’s got enough of those already, dating her.” She grins a little, then. “Also, he can’t really handle his liquor.”

Sasuke thinks Sakura must be able to hold hers fairly well; she had seemed pretty confident earlier, regarding the morning after. He knows her mentor Tsunade has quite a reputation. He himself has never drank much.

“He’s... interesting.”

Sakura shrugs nonchalantly. "He's better than he used to be, regarding the oversharing. Ino is worse, honestly.”

He considers her words, then decides to drop the subject, because he doesn’t want to think about that. Sakura had said in her letters that Ino and Sai were together; he can only imagine what she knows about them, likely most of it against her will and learned in the manner he's just witnessed.

He shifts his attention upwards; a few stars are starting to peek their way into the night sky. He follows their path north, to the barest hints of lavender sinking below the horizon. It has become even more silent outside, fewer people and slightly cooler temperatures. There is still a breeze. They spent longer in the library than he'd anticipated.

He’s not sure what time she usually goes to sleep; if she works at eight, it’s probably early. He wonders if he should ask.

“Thank you for going with me. I’m sorry it took a little longer than I thought,” she says, before the question comes to him. He shifts his eyes back towards her; he’s about to tell her not to apologize because he clearly spent time browsing, too, but she’s already speaking again. “You said your apartment is on the north side, right?”

He inclines his head in an affirmative.

“We could walk that direction, if you want; there are a few newer things on that side of town I could point out that are kind of interesting. If…” She pauses, as if considering her wording. “If you haven’t seen them already, I mean.” She gestures to his selection from the library, gripped in his hand. “We could drop off your books, too. Not as much to carry back, then, with the box and the laundry rack.”

“...I’d like that.”

She smiles up at him again, tender effervescence. He realizes as they start making their way north that they both have been talking in more hushed voices, as if the blanket of nighttime shifting atop the village has quieted them in addition to their surroundings.

There is something soothing about treading around at nightfall with her. The village is well-lit enough that it’s fairly easy wandering, and lights emanating from windows cast everything softer, more inviting phosphorescence sifting onto the pathway beneath their feet. Earlier today, trekking back and forth between businesses and his apartment, it had felt more unfamiliar, like there was a disconnect and he was just passing through, despite the knowledge that he was transporting things to a permanent living space. It feels decidedly less transient next to Sakura, a hint of sweetness in tart recollections. He watches their shadows for a fleeting moment, cast close together to the right of them, near touching, and occasionally faded by windowpane glow.

There is a casino she points out a few blocks down where Tsunade apparently used to lose money fairly regularly. She explains it was her mentor’s favorite because it was somewhat close to the residence typically taken up by the Hokage; she used to call it lucky, even though she never won. Sasuke finds out through this story that the Hokage residence is still sitting empty; Kakashi has apparently still not moved there, preferring instead to stay where he has been residing for years. Sakura mentions in a softer tone that she thinks it’s because of his apartment’s proximity to the graveyard where his old teammate, the Nohara girl, is buried.

There is a long stretch of silence in which Sasuke considers just how Kakashi has always seemed able to see straight through him. He’s fairly certain the girl had been a medic, too.

“...Naruto’s house isn’t far from the Hokage’s office, either,” Sasuke observes finally, changing the subject. He’s with her right now; he doesn’t want to ruminate too long. He thinks that's improvement.

Jade eyes sparkle up at him. “No, it’s not. I’m pretty sure that was on purpose; I don’t think they intend to move again. I’m sure he’ll give you the tour eventually - he’s pretty proud of their place; Hinata keeps it pretty nice - but it has some extra rooms.”

He tries not to think about the implications of that for too long. Naruto being in charge of a tiny human is not a very reassuring thought, even with his apparent strides in social awareness.

They pass a yakitori place she mentions is good, a few more blocks down. It seems pretty calm for such a restaurant, not as busy as Ichiraku’s usually is, though it’s later now and they’re likely getting ready to close. “I’ve been there with Naruto and Hinata a few times,” she tells him. “At least, when we can convince him to go eat something other than ramen.”

Sasuke hadn’t realized Sakura was that close with Naruto’s wife, though it makes sense instantaneously; she has known her for years. He thinks for a second before questioning, “Is she still as quiet?”

Sakura purses her lips in thought. “She talks more, now, for sure, but she’s still pretty shy around people she doesn’t know well.” She smiles, then. “I think Naruto has been really good for her, actually. Her for him, too; they balance each other out well.”

He supposes that’s true; perhaps Hinata is the reason for Naruto’s continued emotional growth. He ponders momentarily whether he and Sakura will balance each other out well.

She’s looking at him as if he should say something, so he does. “...He had vegetables in his ramen today.”

Sakura laughs. “Yes, she does force vegetables into his food every once in a while, now, so he's more used to them. I think she might have slipped Teuchi some money to start throwing them in his orders, to be honest."

Sasuke snorts, because of course that would be how that came about.

"It’s for the best," Sakura continues, lips quirking upwards still. He tears his eyes away from her mouth after a second. "He was eating pretty much all noodles and junk for so long. Hopefully it’ll start to cancel out with a few more years.”

As they walk farther, he starts to recognize things from earlier today; a bed of alabaster azaleas surrounding a residential building painted green, and a rather large street sign on a corner, right next to an ornate bench. They are getting fairly close to his apartment building. He holds off on saying something for a little longer, though, because he wants to spend more time with her. He hopes that's not too selfish; he has missed her. A lot.

“There’s an interesting place over there,” Sakura notes, pointing out a clearly aged building that he thinks he walked by on his return trip from the market earlier in the afternoon. “They’re only open two or three days a week, but it’s antiques now. I don’t usually buy anything other than books, but it’s fun to look through; they get rare ones in, from time to time. The owner is really nice.”

He nods. That would be a good way to spend an afternoon. He suspects she must have a collection of books at her apartment, then. He wonders how many.

She is mute for a moment, as if in thought, as they pass through another intersection. He wonders if he should be adding more to the conversation, but it doesn’t feel like an awkward silence; just an easy one.

He spies another familiar sign, this one advertising the market hours. “...My building is a few blocks this way,” he mentions quietly, loath as he is for this evening spent with her to come to an end. She looks up at him for a moment, then nods, and he subtly starts leading her in the general direction of his apartment complex.

His building comes into view a short time later. He points it out right before they pass beneath the cherry blossom tree, and Sakura nods in recognition. “Sai used to live somewhere over in this area, before he moved in with Ino. I’m not sure where, exactly. I know he liked how quiet it was, though.”

Sasuke nods as he pulls his key from his pocket, and they cross the street. He had been right about the light pollution; there is little enough of it that one can see the stars rather clearly, more so than one could from the library.

He wonders if he should perhaps invite her in. He thinks of the letters, still sitting on the small end table in the living room.

She saves him from making the decision. “I’ll wait here,” she tells him politely, leaning up against the old brick. He nods.

He goes up the stairway, down to the last door on the right. Once he unlocks his door, he places the two books on the kitchen table inside, and locks the door again behind him. It only takes him a minute before he is coming down the stairs again.

She smiles at him, then blinks when he holds out his hand. She colors, he thinks, when she realizes he’s offering to carry her books for her again; it’s harder to tell with the lack of light.

As she hands them to him carefully, she says, voice soft, “My place is a little south of the library; not by too much.” Her eyes flit to his, then dart away; there is a careful smile on her lips. “Maybe a little over ten minutes from here.”

They wander together in an easy silence, her leading the way more now. There are a few crickets chirping. It was fairly warm out today, so it makes sense that insects are starting to make their return. A gentle breeze continues to waft through from time to time.

He walks close enough to her that he can faintly smell raspberries, each time the wind blows just right. There are even fewer people out and about now, it being closer to nine in the evening; the road is fairly deserted. They go by the library again, lights turned off, and more closed businesses. It soon transitions into older construction that he assumes must be residential.

She was right; it doesn’t take long, around twelve minutes at a leisurely pace, before she points out a building further down the street. “That’s the one.”

As they get closer, he notes that hers is also an older building, built out of cream brick; there is something nice about that realization, that she also apparently chose something older with a bit of history over something brand new. There are few enough street lights that one can see the stars overhead well at night here, too.

“There’s a patio or balcony attached to each unit,” Sakura remarks once they’re closer, pointing at one on the northernmost part of the second story that is brimming with potted plants, much more than any of her neighbors’. “That one’s mine.”

As they round the corner of the building, he assumes to reach the front entrance, she tells him it was one of the reasons she selected this apartment, aside from its proximity to the hospital and her family's residence. "My parents' house has balconies for both bedrooms. It was strange to imagine not having one. This one’s attached to the bedroom, too; it’s nice to sit out there, if the weather’s not too extreme."

It’s a smaller complex, only two stories high. He thinks there must be six units, given its size and the trio of balconies they passed beneath, three small patios in their shadows on the ground level. It is somewhat close to the hospital, as she’d said, but far enough away that it's not necessarily an area that would bustle with activity, even during the day’s busiest hours; it is very still right now, peaceful. They pass through a glass door that is not locked, leading into a common area with six doors, three on the main level, and then three on the second level, with a metal stairway leading upwards. A huge, two-story high bay window sprawls by the main door, overlaid in a diamond pattern, which must allow light to stream in the majority of the day.

Each of the doors to individual units has at least one or two plants framing it, but he knows which one is hers right away. An array of thriving potted plants surround the upper northernmost side door, spilling out to surround the entire right side of the banister that frames the edges of the building. Hers is also the unit furthest on the upper right, like his; another nice realization. A few of her plants are flowering, but for the most part they are varying shades of green, with accents of paler colors. Desaturated and calming, just as he’d guessed she would like, rather than intensities of marigold and cobalt and fuchsia. It's hard to tell in the dim lighting, but as they get closer, he thinks that the few blooms are pistachio and lavender and blush in color, like her hair.

Or her cheeks. Jade eyes are on him again as he finishes walking up the stairway behind her.

He follows her to her door and leans a little against the railing behind him while she grabs her keys from her bag; he doesn’t think she’d mind if he came in for a few minutes, but she didn’t explicitly invite him, and he wants to be polite.

Once she’s unlocked it, she turns back to him to take her books. Her hand brushes his, and it’s incredibly distracting, again. “I’ll be right back.” She smiles at him before disappearing inside her apartment.

She leaves the door slightly ajar behind her, and he tries not to look. He busies himself with observing what appears by her neighbors’ doorways instead. No light emanates from beneath the doors of any of them; he wonders, this being older construction, if more of the tenants here are older, and are perhaps in bed already. The upper units probably aren’t occupied by extremely elderly people, given the stairs, but the ground level units’ decorations appear more classic and refined, less youthful. He notes the pots surrounding the other doors are very matchy, but Sakura’s are less so; hers are various shades of neutral terracotta colors, soft and inviting, some with unique shapes.

She’s back quickly, foldable drying rack and shoebox in tow, closing her door mostly behind her. She also must have set her tote bag aside; it's no longer situated on her shoulder.

He realizes all at once as she meets his eyes, handing him the items she’s gifting him, that he does not want this evening to end.

“Thank you,” he says, voice husky.

“You’re welcome,” she murmurs, just as hushed.

Sasuke studies her eyes for a long moment, trying to commit the life in them to memory, though he already has, he thinks.

“...May I see you tomorrow after you work?” He finally asks quietly, trying to keep the hope out of his tone. He knows he’ll see her for his medical clearance in the morning, but he would still like to spend time with her outside of that, if she doesn't have plans already.

She looks crestfallen, smile slipping a little before coming back. “I would love to see you, but I have dinner with my parents every other Thursday, since I get off at four. They stopped by for a visit on my actual birthday, but they wanted to do cake and a gift tomorrow night after our usual supper time.” She pauses, searches his expression for a moment. “Maybe the day after tomorrow, if you’re not busy? I get off around four on Fridays, too.”

He nods, committing this part of her schedule to memory. “...I’ll meet you at the hospital, then.”

Her smile gets wider. “Okay. I can show you around the other newer parts of the village, if you’d like. The southwest side has really expanded.”

He nods his head in agreement, thinking. He would like to ask for more time with her, before he starts taking mission assignments again, but he also doesn’t want to monopolize all of it; she has years worth of life here, roots other than him that need tending. He hopes she’s saying yes because she actually wants to, and not simply for his sake.

He takes a deep breath, forcing down nervous vulnerability at his next question. “...And Saturday?”

She blinks, then blushes darker, smile growing wider still. She casts her glance downwards to her feet out of shyness, shifting a bit. “Saturdays I work seven to three; I’m going to stop by the market after for some gardening supplies with Ino, but other than that, I didn’t have anything set in stone.” But then jade eyes flick back up at him, and they are slightly apologetic.

His heart sinks for a second, rejection stinging a little behind his eyes. She doesn’t want to see me that often. He’s been absent for too long. She's probably tired of him already, though she hasn’t said anything. He has enjoyed tonight, but he's aware he doesn't make the best company.

“Naruto sent a clone by this afternoon that was going on about an original Team Seven reunion dinner, though. He mentioned Saturday night as a possibility,” she reveals, and his world comes back into focus, heart reversing upwards back into his chest cavity.

Sasuke huffs amusedly, then, relieved. “...Of course he did.”

She sighs wistfully, shaking her head. “Ichiraku’s, I’m sure. I’m pretty sure I’ve tried everything on the menu in triplicate, at this point.”

He eyes her carefully, trying to dry swallow his fear of rejection like a pill. Corrosion, he thinks. “...After dinner?”

Shimmering seafoam again. Happy, transparently pleased, and he’s glad he asked, shoved away the nerves; he’d do it again in a heartbeat, if it’s going to make her eyes look like that. “Of course. We could… hang out here, if you want. Or was there something you had in mind?”

His gaze softens. “Here is fine,” he answers. It is more than fine, actually. He’d go anywhere, if it meant he could soak in her presence longer, but he’s more than a little curious about what her apartment looks like on the inside. His own is pretty sterile, even now mostly put together after the afternoon, devoid of most anything other than necessities. He has an inkling that Sakura is the type to truly make wherever she's living feel like a home, though, given the pleasant spread of life he’s seen spilling out here on her doorstep.

“Okay,” she confirms, dimple reappearing. “I’ll look forward to it.”

There is something in her eyes after a second, gears turning, a question she must want to ask him.

"Would you…" She's talking even more softly, now, hushed as if she's going to scare him away. Her eyes meet his apprehensively as she shifts her weight from one side to the other. "Would you want to maybe... have tea tomorrow morning? I'm… not sure if you have plans or not, but I have a little time, before I work. There's a good place near the hospital, and then after we could get your exam done at eight like we planned."

The vines between his ribs twist pleasurably. She does want to see him, after all. She's not too busy. She's looking at him nervously, as if he would say no, as if he hasn’t spent the last twenty-four hours longing for her company again.

"...I'll look forward to it," he answers quietly, because he will; he likes tea, occasionally. He thinks he will like it better with her.

Her entire countenance brightens somehow, even as she flushes darker. "Oh. Good." She sounds relieved.

"...I can meet you here," he finds himself saying, and her eyes are sparkling at him, now, at what's implied - longer with her, another walk together. "What time?"

She purses her lips now, apparently still nervous. "Would… seven be too early?" Her voice trails off a little, as if in hesitance, as she finishes the question.

He chooses his next words carefully, meaningfully, so there is no uncertainty. "Not at all."

She regards him then like he has done something wholly wonderful, cheeks a rich red in dim light and expression heart-wrenchingly elated.

There is an expectant pause as the oblivion happens again, dimmer now but just as powerful. He really wants to kiss her; he’s been thinking about it the entire evening. He wonders if she has, too, and if maybe she wants him to. There’s no one around, in this little entry area of her small complex, in front of her door and her plants in faded hues.

He decides to go with his gut.

It’s somehow even better, this time, anticipation and lips meeting and a barely audible exhale of breath through the nose on her part, almost like she’s suddenly at ease; he thinks, pleased, that she must have wanted him to. Her hands gently meet his chest, tentatively pressing against him. He would like to do something with his, but it's still occupied, holding what she's supplied him with. He settles for pressing his lips to hers with a little more confidence than yesterday. It’s tender and over much too quickly, much like the evening they have spent together; all soft light settling, lambent and beguiling.

She is crimson when they part for a breath, before shyly directing her gaze away and shifting back down; he realizes that she must have been standing on the tips of her toes to reach him.

Her hands linger on his chest, and then her gaze comes back up to his, almost determinedly.

“I’m… really happy you’re back.” Her face is still flushed, but she doesn’t look away. Her pupils are dilated, bottomless black dwarfing green.

Heat creeps up his neck. His pulse pounds just below her fingertips, as if she’s tugging at his heartstrings with them.

“...I am, too,” he whispers, before he leans down again.

He thinks that he could stay here forever, clutching all that she’s given him, enveloped in a sweet ambrosia of tart berry and newly unfurling plants and soft lips that he’s thought of all day, now against his again.

She gently drops her hands from his chest when they finally part. She’s smiling; she is so pretty.

“Good night, Sasuke-kun.” Her voice is near a whisper. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“...Good night, Sakura,” he murmurs in response.

XXX

The journey from her place to his really is quite quick; he doesn’t see anyone on his way back. Stars are visible almost the entire way, Leo and Ursa Major and Cassiopeia. The moon is a thin sliver amongst them, raised high in the sky.

Once he's inside, he carefully folds out the drying rack she’s given him in the small laundry closet and lays out damp clothes to allow the air to finish the job. He's glad he didn't need to make another trip to the store. A trip with her was better, and she somehow had just what he needed. He thinks perhaps she always has, and his vision has simply been too blurry, obscured by smudged glass, to see it.

Sasuke retrieves the stack of her letters and places them in the box gingerly so as not to further bend them. He stares at the picture for a long time before also stowing it away, sliding the container onto the shelf in the closet for safekeeping.

He doesn’t feel tired yet, and it's not too cold, so he goes to visit the memorial stone, after, as he’d planned. He feels it is the right thing to do, after having been gone so long.

He confronts many things as he sits there, the bevy of crickets and soft swishing of grass the only sounds on this quiet spring evening, a long list of engravings barely legible in the shadows.

Melancholy is one of them, seeping in slowly, as he’d known it would. Grief and acrimony and betrayal, too. A little bit of anger, still. He also experiences sillage, the aroma of his mother’s flower garden and the scent of his aunt and uncle’s baked goods and the smell of an empty house, all blending together in his olfactory senses like it was yesterday, a bitter incense of nostalgia that is hard on the inhale.

This time, though, semisweet berry and antiseptic are also among them, memory fresh in his nostrils, and he experiences a little bit of comfort, too.

Sasuke doesn’t sleep well, after, but when the nightmare comes, gruesome, and he’s awake for the remainder of the night, he has some books to help steady him until seven comes.

#naruto #sasusaku #ssfanfiction #cherry writes #slow burn indeed we doing a snail's pace out here #like gold #fanfiction

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victoria-daydreams · 3 years

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Of Vices and Virtues

Chapter Nine: Challenges

AN: This story has really blown up it’s amazing, not to mention my follower count! I appreciate everyone’s support, you don’t know how much it means to me to see my notifications going crazy from all of you. Again, just leave a comment if you want to be added to the taglist below.

Word Count: 5.8k

Trigger Warnings: body negativity, unresolved trauma, mentions of KKK terrorism, mentions of The Holocaust

Taglist: @azayamari

Chapter Ten: Old Wounds

It was early morning at the Xavier Mansion and I just finished my morning cup of coffee, when I began walking around the mansion. The sound of light clinking could be heard from Hank's lab and I peeped my head in to see him peering down a microscope. I raised my fist and briskly rapped on the lab door which startled Hank in his chair. He looked up from the instrument and flashed me a shy smile.

I entered the lab and crossed my arms together, "What are you doing up so early?" I asked, sliding onto a stool across from Hank.

"Oh, you know how the saying goes, the early bird gets the worm," Hank answered, letting out a nervous chuckle.

I cocked my eyebrow, but didn't say anything as I stretched myself out, "Well, Hank you can have all them," I quipped, with a smile on my face.

"Why are you up?" he questioned, shifting in his seat.

"My body woke up and I couldn't go back to sleep, no matter how hard I tried to force myself," I answered shrugging, as my eyes did a quick glance at the microscope in front of me. "You know Hank, I've been wondering about something," I stated, placing both my arms on the table.

"And what would that be?"

"This serum you're making. It doesn't affect abilities right? Just appearance? Normalizes it?" I questioned him and he gave a small nod. "Why do you hate your mutation so much?" I asked inquisitively.

"Well, where to start? I have huge monkey feet, they're an eyesore to look at," Hank explained darkly, looking down at his shoes.

"Don't!" I scold him and he looked up at me in surprise. "Never say that about yourself Hank. I'm sure there are benefits to your mutation," I commented, trying to get him to see a bright side. "All mutations do," I added, nodding my head.

Hank scoffed slightly, "Like what? Earning another demeaning nickname?" he deadpanned, placing his hands on the table.

"It's not like you're alone in this," I pointed out, but Hank still looked at me unsurely.

"But you have an amazing gift Claudia. You are extremely lucky," Hank reasoned.

"Hey, even the best of powers can have cons," I tell him in an off handed tone. "For most of my life I thought my empathy was a curse. I hated it," I added, balling my fist up.

"Okay, so explain it to me. You asked me so I'll ask you," Hank began. "Why would you hate your abilities?" he questioned.

I sit up straight and fold my leg underneath me, "Once upon a time I wasn't fully in control of my empathic and telekinetic powers. With me, I get emotions, and emotions are real whether they truly are or not. I become the person in a way so much deeper than a telepath could. I am not them, but I am no longer me," I explained, pausing so I could catch my breath. "It was exhausting, the constant migraines I had, not to mention the shields I built to block everyone's emotions worked sporadically," I continued, looking down at the black top of the table. "You have no idea what it's like to be afraid of the damage that you could potentially do because of the powers your born with. But...all of that changed when I met him...my mentor," I finished, looking back up at Hank with a slight frown on my face.

"It sounds as though you don't care for him very much,"

"That's the thing I shouldn't like him, but yet in some twisted way, I owe him everything," I confided quietly. "If it weren't for him, I would have never been able to master my abilities. Hell, even when he was mentoring me I think we just scratched the surface of what I can do. It's probably for the best though, who knows what kind of trouble I would've gotten into or caused," I stated, a mirthless laugh escaping my lips.

"But you could never hurt anyone, you're too kind," Hank insisted, as if it was obvious. I let out a faint laugh, and he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "Why did you laugh at that?" Hank questioned.

"Very rarely have I been called 'kind', that's why I laughed. It's just nice to hear it for a change," I explained, shrugging my shoulders.

Hank nodded his head understandingly and we sat in a comfortable silence. My eyes moved from Hank to the window behind him, my eyes focusing on the magnificent array of gold and pink that colored the landscape before me. It was strange, to be able to slightly let my guard down and become relaxed around Hank, or anyone in the mansion and let them get to know me more. It felt nice to finally have friends.

I focused my gaze back to Hank only to find that he was looking down awkwardly at the floor.

"What is it?" I asked with concern, he fumbled about with his hands not sure to say.

"Claudia, while I sympathize with your plight and what you've gone through, it's still different. I mean, even though you're a mutant your still beautiful, people can't see your mutation and they wouldn't think of you as a freak. They would see you as a goddess," he spoke stubbornly.

"Thank you Hank, I'm flattered," I chuckled, a gentle smile gracing my face. "But I can tell you that not everyone in this world holds that same sentiment," I informed him with a small laugh.

"Well then their blind," Hank stated, a chuckle escaping his lips. He momentarily dropped his stare down to the table before he looked back at me. "Look Claudia, I-uh, I promised myself that I'd find a cure ever since I was a little boy," Hank went on. "And I'm glad you don't care what my feet look like, but it's how I feel," Hank told me with a sigh, the two of us glance at the blood sample that Hank was studying.

Unfolding my leg I stood up from my stool and waltzed over to him, "You know Hank, you're quite stubborn," I mused, letting out a sigh of my own. "But it's your choice," I added smiling, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He nodded, "Thank you," he replied, a sigh of relief escaping him.

I pulled him into a side hug, "That doesn't mean I don't like it though," I muttered, making Hank chuckle.

~~~x~~~

Wearily, I trudged to the door and opened it to find the hallway almost leering at me, like it was speaking to me. Shaking it off, I stepped out into the even chillier air and made my way down to the lab from hell where the devil incarnate himself was waiting for me. I do not have the energy for this today, then again…when have I ever? When I heard him demanding me to be in the lab in two minutes or to suffer the consequences, I considered staying in my room, wanting to aggravate him, but decide against it. I didn’t want to stretch it too terribly much. So, on shaky legs I continued my miserable journey to the basement of-

"Claudia," my head snapped to the side at the sound of my name being called, my eyes slightly wide. Blue eyes and dark hair. Charles. "Are you alright?" he asked softly, standing next to me. "You had a faraway look in your eyes," he commented. "And you also started to make some items in here levitate," Charles added quietly.

He opened his mouth again to speak, but all I could hear was my blood pumping in my veins and I closed my eyes tightly to try and calm down, my head swimming with images of my past. My eyes glanced back over to the window I was in front of and stared through the glass pane, it promised to be a beautiful day. Clear skies, temperature below 60, but still warm enough for us to enjoy. I wasn't there now. I was here. Here, staying in a house that belonged to Charles Xavier. I was as far away from that life as humanely possible. I would never do anything I didn't want to do ever again.

"Claudia?"

I looked over to Charles again, "I'm fine," I breathed, not even realizing that my fingernails were digging into my palms until Charles gently took my right fist and pried it open before doing the same with my left. "I was just...thinking. That's all," I answered, flashing him a faux smile.

It was another skill I mastered over the years, hiding my true emotions. If I were to let them show, people would see me as weak. I turned around fully to see Erik and Moira already staring at me, both of them with different expressions. Moira was visibly concerned, while Erik's lips were pressed together creating a thin line. His eyes, they were guarded, as if he wasn't certain what to think of this situation. Or maybe Erik was always like this. It's hard to tell with him.

I looked back over to Charles, "Please, continue," I stated, motioning my hand for him to speak.

Charles gave me a slight nod and cleared his throat, "As I was previously saying, the wings aren't ready yet. Hank has informed me that he has to put the last touches on them today," he announced, looking between the three of us.

"What wings?" I thought.

Moira ran a hand through her straight brown locks, "It's no secret that Sean has a talent for destroying property, but isn't it counterproductive to throw him out a window of what we're trying to accomplish here?" Moira asked, with slight confusion.

"Wait, we're throwing Sean out of a window?" I questioned, raising an eyebrow in amusement. "I would also love to know the logic behind this," I stated, a grin now on my face.

"Charles and Hank apparently think he can fly," Moira explained, looking at me.

I folded my arms together, "Unless I'm mistaken, Sean's only power is his supersonic scream," I reminded, staring at the telepath. "How does flying coincide with his ability?" I asked curiously.

"It's the sound waves that Sean emits," Charles began. "When his sound waves hit supersonic they'll carry him," Charles finished.

"Interesting," I nodded my head, I slowly turned back around and stared out of the window again. My attention focused on the towering satellite on Charles' land, as I lifted my right thumb to my lip, sensing that this conversation was over.

"Charles, I've been meaning to ask more about your ideas for training," Moira announced, standing up from her seat.

"Ah, yes! I would love to talk about that," Charles answered happily, I could envision his eyes lighting up at the opportunity to discuss his ideas. "We'll talk it over a cup of tea, yes?" he proposed.

"Sounds lovely," Moira agreed.

I heard the two of of them leaving the room, but didn't bother turning around. My eyes were still trained outside, softly biting my thumb. How did I let this happen to me? I thought I was over of what happened in the past. All it took was me to mention him and suddenly the band-aid that was placed on my wound was ripped off and I'm back to being to that frightened girl I once was.

"Are you alright, Claudia?" Erik asked, breaking me out of my reverie. I didn't say anything or look his way. Just nodded. Suddenly, he was in front of me, and I inhaled deeply, and I involuntarily took a step back. "Look at me," he said gently, and I refused to do so. That was until I felt two rough, calloused fingers lift my chin. "Something troubles you Claudia, I don't need to be a mind reader to know that. Your posture and your face are all the evidence I need," Erik finished, as my brown eyes met his blue ones.

"I'm fine," I answered, pushing his hand away. "Just like I said earlier," I insisted, before turning around to leave the room as well.

I was not in the mood to talk. Not about this.

At the doorway of Charles' study I stopped, "Stop fretting over me Erik, you're gonna give yourself a heart attack," I warned, before walking into the hallway.

I hadn't taken more than a few steps when I spotted my shape-shifting friend turning down the same hallway I was.

"Afternoon Raven," I greeted, mustering up a small smile on my face. Raven didn't return my warm expression as she walked past me, and I cocked my head while furrowing my eyebrows. I turned on my heel and stared at her back. "Raven!" I called, walking at a quick speed to catch up with her as she went down another hallway. "Hey!" I called again, this time grasping her arm. "Have I done something to upset you?" I asked, releasing her arm.

"I just don't understand why you are doing what you're doing," Raven murmured.

"What?" I asked, my face scrunched up in confusion.

"I get that you and Charles have a thing going on, but why isn't that good enough for you?" Raven asked lowly, but the anger was evident in her voice. I scoffed as she finally turned around to face me. "You know, I've been noticing that you and Erik have been acting too friendly to be just friends and you just brushed it off saying it was nothing. But now it seems you turned sights on Hank-"

I waved my hands in the air, "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" I interjected, my eyes widening at Raven's accusation. "Raven, what the hell are you talking about?" I asked, placing my hands on my hips. "If you're insinuating what I think you are, first of all how dare you! Second of all, I am most certainly not doing what you're accusing of me of," I stated, defending myself. "Where did this all come from? I thought we were friends!" I reminded, crossing my arms against my chest.

"It's just that, that," Raven began, but ended up letting out a frustrated groan and running a hand through her long, blonde hair.

My face softened and reached my arm out to Raven and gently grabbed her arm, "What is bothering you, Raven?" I asked, the anger inside of me ebbing away as I was truly curious what made her have such an outburst towards me.

"You are! You're so perfect," Raven sighed, frustration written all over her face. "Perfect face, perfect powers, perfect body," she listed, almost spitefully.

"Oh, come on Raven, nobody is perfect," I corrected gently, forcing back a smile as I thought back to when Charles and I were discussing the same thing. "I have my imperfections just like everyone else," I assured, giving her arm a slight squeeze.

"Where are they, because I don't see them," Raven disagreed, shaking her head and then crossing her arms. "You're just saying that to make me feel better," she grumbled.

I smiled slightly, "Truly, I am not," I replied, shaking my head. I exhaled deeply. "Well, I hope yelling at me got whatever that was plaguing you out," I mused, crossing my arms again.

Raven put her head in her hands, "I'm sorry," she sighed, lifting her head back up to face me. "It's just that I saw and heard you with Hank this morning and my mind just created so many stupid scenarios," Raven explained, her face flushed with embarrassment. "And then I saw you and Erik, but I turned ar-" she rambled on.

"I'm sorry Raven, but I'm beginning to notice a pattern here," I chimed in, raising an eyebrow. "Are you following me around?" I asked, my expression turning serious now.

"No!" Raven exclaimed quickly. "Well, at least not on purpose. This morning I went to check on Hank's progress with the serum and then I saw you two hugging and just now I saw you and Erik very close to each other," she explained, lowering her gaze to the decorative rug covering the wooden floor. "Just like when you were sparring," the blonde added quietly, before raising her eyes to meet mine.

"Look Raven, despite what you think I do not have an objective of being with every man in the house, okay? The mansion is predominantly male, so yes, it's going to be more common that I'm talking to someone of the opposite gender," I explained, placing my hands on hips. "Makes sense now?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow at her.

Raven nodded her head, "Oh God, I'm so sorry, Dia," Raven apologized again. "I can't believe I was that stupid to even think that of you," she groaned, hiding her face in her hands temporarily. Raven uncovered her face, "C'mon, let me make you lunch. It's the least I can do," Raven offered, letting out a laugh.

"It certainly is,"

~~~x~~~

"You know what I just adore about you, my dear Claudia? I can break you every night, and you'll still be a viable subject by the next morning,"

I threw punches at the punching bag as if the source of all my bottled up pain was actually here, standing right in front of me. I struck the bag as fast and hard as I could attempting to release all my pent up frustration. Why won't these god forsaken memories just disappear from my mind. I was angry. Frustrated. Upset. Ashamed. Embarrassed. My behavior was unacceptable. I was a broken, scared little girl. I was pathetic. I could never help save the world.

I was so fucking weak.

Never ending questions nagged at my brain as I furiously punched, ignoring the blood dripping off my knuckles.

"Claudia, stop before I make you stop," a velvety voice from behind me ordered.

I turned my head slightly and there stood Erik in his grey sweatsuit, "I'm fine," I stated simply wiping my knuckles on my pants, and positioning myself to continue training once more.

Erik stepped in front of the punching bag, grabbed my wrists in a firm, but not painful grip and pulled me into him, his steely blue eyes gazing intently into my own assessing me like a predator would it's prey.

"You had a thousand yard stare earlier, slightly lost control of your telekinesis, and now your beating a punching bag until your fists are raw and bloody," Erik pointed out, glancing at my bloodied fists. "And you honestly think that you're fine?" he asked, arching a brow and dropping my hands.

"Didn't I tell you to stop worrying about me?" I asked back, annoyed that he wouldn't leave well enough alone.

"But that's what friends do, we worry about each other," Erik informed, folding his arms together. "You would do the same for me, I hope," he added, a small smile forming on his lips.

I took a deep breath and slowly nodded in agreement.

"Come on, I'll clean those up for you," Erik said simply, leading me out of the gym and into a small white room which looked like a small medical bay he lead me over to sink and carefully cleaned my wounds then applied some anesthetic cream. "Sorry if it hurts," he apologized quietly, surprising me with his thoughtfulness. I found myself unintentionally smiling to myself. "What's so funny?" Erik questioned, finishing up with the bandages.

"It's just that...when we first met, I thought you were the biggest asshole known to man," I began, a ghost of grin on my lips. "But now I know that's not true, it's good to know that you're a nice man after all," I finished, pushing off from the sink.

"You think I'm a nice guy, I'm flattered truly I am," Erik replied cheekily. "Any other first impressions you had about me that I should know about?" Erik questioned, arching his brow in amusement while walking out of the door.

"Well, I also thought you were pretty handsome," I started, and Erik' face lit up with what looked like amusement. "But your personality soon negated all of your attractiveness," I added, with a smirk on my lips as I left the small room as well.

Suddenly Erik lifted me up and spun me around.

"Erik! Stop! Friends don't do this!" I said between laughs while attempting to escape his grasp.

"Some friends do!" he countered with a wink. "Now with me being a friend to Claudia, I have to wonder where the real Claudia is. Two compliments within a minute apart, I find that suspicious," Erik remarked, and let out a laugh.

"Erik! Put me down right now!" I scolded, with a smile on my face even though I hated the fact I'd lost control of the situation so easily. From over Erik's shoulder I saw Charles at the end of the hallway with a raised eyebrow. "Charles!" I called, a smile still on my face. "My knight in shining armor, come save me!" I exclaimed, reaching my arm out towards Charles and laughing.

"Don't listen to her Charles, this is just a lookalike. She has been too kind to me today, this can't possibly be the Claudia we know!" Erik claimed, his laughter vibrating against me.

Charles chuckled as well as he followed behind us, "You know Erik, I think you might be on to something," he agreed, smiling at me.

"Charles!" I called again, my mouth opened in shock that he took Erik's side instead of mine and Charles just shrugged an amused expression still on his face. I rolled my eyes and grinned myself before turning my attention back to the metal bender carrying me to the living room. "Hey, let me go!" I ordered, lightly hitting Erik's back with my fist.

"Fine," the metal bender answered simply.

In an instant, I landed hard on the floor with a thud. I watched as Erik walked down the hallway laughing all the way. He dropped me? He knew exactly what I meant when I told him to put me down. The audacity of him to do that. I'd show him, you can bet your bottom dollar that I will have the last laugh.

Charles extended his hand out towards me, "It seems you've taken a tumble, my dear," he remarked smiling.

I grabbed it and hopped to my feet, "Yeah, no thanks to that asshole," I commented, nodding my head in the direction of Erik.

"Ah, it seems we were wrong," Charles began with a chuckle. "There's the Claudia we know," he finished, leading me into the living room and I rolled my eyes again.

I spotted Erik standing with a relaxed posture, his hands in his pockets as he waited for Charles and I. He smirked at me and I just slid my index finger across my throat.

"Well, since the two of you are here, I wanted to test an idea out I had with your powers," Charles started, looking at me. "Claudia, I've been thinking about your empathic powers. We know you can use your 'persuasive' ability on people verbally. I want you to inside Erik's mind and give him an order without speaking,"

"What do you want me to make him do?"

Charles hesitated and looked at Erik, "What do you feel comfortable doing?"

Erik thought for a moment, "Nothing that will cause me extreme bodily harm," he answered, giving me a knowing glance.

Fine, I'd think of something else. I closed my eyes and lifted my mental shields as the confusion, curiousness, and a hint of tiredness sparked through my mind from Erik's. An idea popped in my head and I smiled to myself. I opened my eyes and stared at Erik unflinchingly which he returned, I cocked my head to the side and began my work with Erik's brain.

"You're feeling tired," I began. "Very tired," I added.

Erik let out a yawn as I furrowed my brow in concentration.

"You feel dead on your feet, you should have a seat right now," I suggested. "The chair behind you is just calling your name," I continued.

I pushed my suggestion into his head and Erik squatted down as if to sit down on the chair. But there wasn't a chair, so he fell to the floor on his ass. Erik looked up at me and glared.

I smiled triumphantly, "It's what you deserve," I stated, content with myself.

Charles was happy as well, "Excellent!" he cheered, before holding his hand out to Erik to helping him back to his feet.

"Am I done being the test dummy?" Erik asked, an annoyed expression on his face.

"Yes, you were a great help just now," Charles answered cheerfully, Erik shot me one last glare before he left and I stuck my tongue at him childishly. "A bit of fresh air will do the body good, don't you think?" Charles questioned, sticking his hand for me to leave the room first.

"I do," I concurred, making my way out of the room and towards the doors that led to the stone deck.

I pushed the door opened and the fresh late afternoon almost evening air was such a relief. An immense amount of sudden stress completely wiped me out already. The door behind me closed with a soft click from Charles and walked over next to me.

"What happened to your hands Claudia?" Charles asked, grabbing a hold of them and softly running his thumb across my knuckles.

"I got carried away with the punching bag, that's all. Please don't work up a sweat about me, I just had some steam to blow off," I explained, a reassuring smile on my lips.

Charles' brow furrowed as he looked out into the sprawling greenery that almost resembled the gardens of Versailles. The cool October breeze wrapped around us quite heavily as it sent chills down my spine and blew black strands of hair across my face. Charles noticed how my body reacted from the breeze and quickly took his jacket off and placed around my shoulders.

"Claudia," Charles started, giving his jacket a quick tug making sure I was snug within it. "I want you to know that whatever is bothering you, you don't have to face it alone," he reminded gently.

"What makes you think something is bothering me?" I asked, looking up at him.

"You haven't been your usual self, I mean I've barely heard a witty comment from you all day," he pointed out, a slight chuckle escaping his lips.

"It's better that I do though, you know, when it comes to facing my own problems alone," I answered, before looking over at the gardens as well. "I've done it for years now, what's a few more weeks going to change?" I inquired, shrugging my shoulders before turning my attention back to him.

"Everything," Charles answered, placing each of his hands on my shoulders looking straight into my eyes. "It could change everything, Claudia," Charles repeated, rubbing soothing circles on my biceps before his hands slid down my arms.

~~~x~~~

I laid wide awake in bed, my eyes spacing out, my mind somewhere else, I had been awakened by a dream. Not a dream, exactly, more a memory of a rain made of ashes. The stomach-churning scent of the burning bodies still scorched my nostrils whenever I thought about it. I saw a young boy in ragged striped pajamas and there was also a woman who appeared to be middle aged, but she looked so much older than she should. She was filthy and was in ragged pajamas, just like the boy. And there was a man, a man who looked all too familiar...

That's when I heard something. A creaking of sort. I sat up softly, and my eyes glued onto the door, as the sound grew louder, and soon I knew clearly it was footsteps. I got up and hesitated by my door, until the muffled noises were faint. Creeping out my door, I followed the suspect as I caught their shadow turning to the left in the hallway.

With quiet steps, and making sure to be in line with the shadows, I stalked behind whoever it was. Soon I was close enough to try and take out the figure's features. My night vision not being very strong. But before I could even make out their face, a voice spoke.

"I should have known you would follow me," It was hollow, and low.

I stepped into the speck of light the gleaming moon gave off, "Sorry. I was curious as to why you would be up and lurking around past midnight," I responded to Erik, and moved forth towards him.

"Could not sleep. But I should be asking you the same," he stated gravely.

I shrugged, "Got a lot on my mind," I explained lamely.

We stood there, giving moments of awkward silence, then he began to slip away towards the kitchen. His movement gave me a beckoning signal to follow him. Once there, he dug in the fridge, and tugged out a bottle of beer. He glanced over at me once I sat on the island counter watching him. "Want one?" He asked.

I scoffed at him, my brows raised, and expression saying 'seriously?'.

"I'm too much of a lady to drink beer," I quipped.

A soft chuckle erupted from him and he shook his head, as he pulled out a bottle of pop for me. I gladly took it, and he popped off the caps of both drinks. The two of us taking a swig of our bottles.

"So, what was life like for you before Charles and I hunted you down and dragged you here against your will?" Erik asked, his back leaned against the island beside me, as his eyes roamed over the pictures hanging on the wallpapered walls.

I glanced down at my bottle, my right index finger tracing the rim of the bottle, as I stayed mute after hearing his question. It was a long enough silence to notify him, and let him glimpse over at me.

"Or...don't answer my question," he muttered brashly.

I gave a soft sigh, "I lived in South Carolina until I was five, my grandpa was murdered by the KKK, they bombed his bookstore. It was a miracle that I survived," I began, Erik looked over at me, a sympathetic expression painted on his face. "Then we moved to Pennsylvania, and that's what I considered to be home for me. After I graduated high school, I moved to D.C. and attended college. I graduated and now I'm living the ‘American Dream’ the best that a black woman can," I explained, purposefully excluding certain events that I wasn't ready to share. "Nothing quite special about my life, Erik," I added, before taking another swig of my drink.

"I'm sorry about your grandfather, Claudia," Erik apologized, placing his beer down. "But I know there's more to your story than that. I know there is something or someone from your past that you're running from. Trust me, I know all the signs," he argued softly, and my throat felt awfully dry because of the statement. "If you don't want to tell me about your past, fine. But answer this question for me. Why are you up?" Erik asked again. "And don't tell me another terrible lie," he added.

I sighed, staring into my drink, before answering, seemingly measuring my words, "Sometimes my walls come down when I sleep deeply enough, so my empathy is open. When people have nightmares or sleep fitfully, it can wake me up if the emotional signature is strong enough," I shrugged, a bit embarrassed.

Erik froze, "Do you ever...um...see what people dream?" he scratched the back of his head, projecting nonchalance.

My brown eyes narrowed in speculation on the opening of my bottle, "It depends on if the nightmare is strong enough," I set the bottle down, my eyes sympathetic. "Usually what I see is so fractured that I don't understand it,"

He grunted in his throat in acquiescence, staring at the tabletop, "I've always wondered why Charles never wakes up,"

I shrugged, "Maybe his shields can't drop," I suggested. "He probably made them that way for when he sleeps or needs to block everything, he's had more practice than I. Then again, he's a telepath, so he's working to block thoughts and dreams and such. A person can hide what they think, but rarely can they hide what they feel," I informed.

"That sounded textbook," Erik smirked in humor.

I shrugged, "Probably was," I agreed laughing.

We stood in silence for a moment, before my eyes fell upon his left arm and I noticed the small black numbers. He followed my eyes and extended it fully toward me. The numbers stood out before me almost screaming at me about the pain this man has been through.

"He hurt you, didn't he? Shaw did," I stated bravely, looking up from his arm.

"You...You saw what I dreamed of, didn't you?" Erik questioned, returning my stare and I silently nodded.

"Sorry," I whispered apologetically, and he just mimicked my nod. "H-How old were you?" I asked quietly. "When-When'd it happen?" I asked again, glancing at his arm.

"I was eleven,"

"Eleven?" I echoed, in shock. "That's so young," I breathed.

"You became a bomb survivor at the age of five," Erik reminded grimly, shaking his head.

Neither of us spoke for several long moments before I brushed a strand of hair behind my ear uncomfortably.

"There was a woman that I saw," I recalled. "Who was she?" I questioned, folding my arms together.

"My mother," he answered, staring at me.

I stood staring back at him unsure of what to say or if I wanted to ask the question that was now burning in the back of my mind. I opened my mouth to speak, but closed it and breathed deeply.

"How did she die, if you don't mind me asking?" I asked softly.

"My family and I were put in a concentration camp, as you know," Erik said quietly. His usual calm demeanor had dropped and now he was sad, almost angry. "It was there were Shaw shot my mother point blank and it was there where I discovered my ability," he answered, his mouth forming a thin line.

I couldn't even imagine witnessing your mother being shot point blank in front of you. It was completely unthinkable and horribly wrong. I shuddered at the thought of him witnessing such a thing.

"I'm sorry, I can't...can't even begin to imagine it,"

As if a sudden electric bolt of realization hit me, I was now aware of why I had woken up suddenly, feeling so...angry, so thirsty for vengeance. It was because Erik wanted Shaw so badly. It was the simple thought of revenge. He wanted to avenge his mother's death to finally be at peace with himself and with the thought of his mother's horrific death.

He blamed himself, but he shouldn't.

I placed a hand on Erik's shoulder for comfort, "We're going to get him," I promised, looking into his blue eyes with a determined stare and he raised his hand covering mine and gave it a soft squeeze.

"There was a never doubt that we wouldn't,"

Chapter Eleven: Bottled Up

#x-men fanfiction #black fanfiction #x-men fanfic #charles xavier fanfiction #charles xavier x oc #black!oc #magneto x oc #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #erik lehnsherr fanfiction #erik lehnsherr x oc #black!reader #x men fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel imagine

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estellaelysian · 3 years

Text

Out on the Ranch

7:00

The sparkle of lights seemed to fade in the background as the wind blew, rustling the leaves and blowing like musical notes through the deep grove of trees. The lake glistened under the pure white moon, the water shifting, rippling against the silver sparkle of light. They crossed the pasture toward the fence line in a comfortable silence. Alishka studied the gentle rolling landscape, the undulations of the fence line as it rode the contours of the land and Ethan marveled at how different this place was from where he’d grown up. It occurred to him that he’d just come to appreciate the quiet, almost austere beauty of this landscape. In the distance, the pines and oaks scrabbled together, forming an impenetrable scrim of blackness. Behind them, the chatter of crickets emerged slowly into the night. Despite the darkness, she knew Ethan was stealing glances at her, and he was not being subtle about it.

She smiled. This side of him had been coming out more often, and it seemed to make him an entirely different person in itself. She wondered if he noticed it.

‘So how long has your cousin been married to John?’

‘Six. Seven this year.’

He nodded.

At first when Alaya had invited them over for the weekend, Alishka was sure how it’d go. She wasn’t even sure how Alaya had gotten Ethan to come along, because this was clearly planned in her absence, she had no hint of it until that morning, when they were leaving for the ranch.

‘Do you come here a lot?’ he asked her, pulling her out of her reverie.

‘No, not a lot these days,’ she answered. ‘Everything’s been too busy lately, and she is also settling in…’she trailed off, unsure what to say next.

As the trees densely crowded on his side, he moved closer, and she felt her stomach flutter. He, although, seemed visibly unfazed.

There’s a shortcut from the next fence,’ she said, barely even noticing the words falling from her lips. ‘Then we can get to the river and round from there to the main house.’

He nodded again, not knowing what else to say or do.

The faint murmur of the river was becoming more perceptible as they transversed the pasture in silence. He observed the dark trees huddled together in the distance, looking quite like a very still crowd observing them.

Soon, they had reached the next fence she had mentioned earlier.

‘Okay, so…’

‘We gotta jump over it,’ she said.

If he was surprised by that, he didn’t show. Instead he just nodded, and putting both hands on the top railing, gracefully hoped over.

‘Show off,’ she teased.

Then considered her options.

The slats were too narrowly placed for her to squeeze through, so she climbed up, perching at the top before swinging her legs over. She took his hands as she jumped down, liking their calloused warmth.

They came to a halt on the high bank. The river wasn’t wide, but he had the sense that the slow moving water was deeper than it appeared. Dragonflies flitted over the surface, breaking the stillness, causing tiny ripples that radiated to the edge. Beyond the river, in the dark shade of a gnarled oak tree, he noticed the remains of an old camp and an abandoned fire pit.

After they left the clearing by the river, they started back to the house, dried leaves crunching beneath their feet. The walk itself was leisurely, and none of them needing to talk.

As they neared the house, he noticed Cooper, Alaya and John’s Scottish terrier darting ahead toward the water bowl on the porch; he lapped at it between pants, then collapsed onto his belly.

‘He’s tired,’ he said, a smile escaping him unknowingly.

‘He’ll be fine. He follows John when he rides out every morning.’ She tucked loose strands of hair behind her ear. ‘Would you like something to drink? I don’t know about you, but I could really use a beer. Unless you’d have some scotch with John- I don’t kn–’

‘Sounds great,’ he said, chuckling heartily at her confusion

‘Okay, I’ll be back in a minute.’

As she walked away, he studied her receding form. Who could’ve thought he’d be doing any of this? Who could make sense of it? He was still wondering about it when she emerged outside a minute later, a pair of ice cold bottles in her hands.

She handed him a bottle and they took a seat on the porch chairs. He leaned back and let out a long sigh before turning to face her.

‘What?’ she asked. ‘What is it?’

‘I don’t know… you make all this seem interesting. A lot more interesting than it actually is.’

She tried her best to resist the smile that was forming but failed. ‘What are you talking about?’

He just kept looking at her intently before smiling. ‘Nothing.’

8:00

‘Come on, Ethan, I am starting up the grill. Wanna join me outside and let the ladies hang out?’

Ethan laughed. ‘Ofcourse.’

‘Honey, can you hand me the steaks? They are marinating in the fridge.’

‘Yeah,’ Alaya said. ‘Ethan, would you like some sun tea? I made it this afternoon.’

He smiled. It was hard to keep track of things in this confusion. Alaya and John were chaotic. Very friendly, welcoming and nice, but chaotic.

‘Yes to the sun tea, and I’ll wait outside for you, John,’ Ethan said finally. That way, it’d be easier for him too.

‘Okay, go on, I’ll join you in a minute,’ John said, moving around him toward the fridge.

Alishka flashed him a good luck sign before he stepped outside the door. Alaya poured in the tea in four cups as John pulled out the steaks. She moved back to the stove nd opened a jar of peas which Alishka guessed had come from the garden.

‘Can’t believe you have been hiding such a fine man, Alishka,’ she said, not even bothering to hide the smirk on her face.

‘Alaya!’ she hissed, but she either missed it, or ignored it completely.

‘He is so in love with you! Have you seen it?’

Alishka pretended to focus on her cup of tea.

‘Oh come on! Drop the act Alishka.’

‘Alaya, stop, will you?’

‘No, I won’t. I haven’t spoken for enough time as it is,’ she said with a wink.

Alishka shook her head. She had no idea how she was going to keep up with her cousin’s excited hosting.

8:30

Whatever the two women inside were talking about, Ethan was grateful he had excused himself from it, for it contained too many giggles, unexpected bursts of laughter, and a certain few hushed whispers as well. He took a sip of the sun tea as John prepared the grill.

‘Late dinners are usually Alaya’s thing,’ John said. ‘She loves them.’

Ethan chuckled. ‘It’s the same with Alishka.’

They fell into easy conversation. Ethan responded to most of the questions and filled in the whos, whats, whens and wheres in his life, though only in broad strokes. John did the same, and at the same time, shared some details about his life on the ranch. From what John had said, it was pretty clear that he and Alaya were interchangeable when it came to the tasks, though she mostly preferred to handle the indoors and book keeping while he did the outdoor works.

By that time, their mugs were almost empty. Ethan strode inside to get them refilled and found Alishka and Alaya talking at the table. It seemed they had finished cooking.

As they talked, John held up the grill top. Although it was charred black in places, it looked ready to go. he reached for a bag of charcoal and dumped some into a grill that looked way too old, using his hands to spread them out evenly. Then he added some lighter fluid, soaking each briquette for just a moment.

‘This grill looks … rather old,’ Ethan said uncertainly.

‘Yeah, it is here from my grandfathers time.’ Then, as if he had noticed Ethan’s skeptical expression, he went on: ‘I know there are better grills now, but I like to do it the way we did growing up. Besides, it tastes better this way. Cooking on those modern day grills is like cooking inside.’

Ethan nodded, although he couldn’t relate. ‘And you have promised us the best steaks we’ve ever had.’

‘That I have,’ he said with a hearty laugh.

They let the coals soak for a couple of minutes before he pulled out a box of matches from his pocket and lit the charcoals, stepping back when the flames shot up. The light breeze made the fire dance in circles.

John reached for the thick steak fillets which had been soaking in the brandy. He had already seasoned them with some salt, pepper and garlic powder.

‘Okay, this will be ready soon,’ he announced as the coals slowly turned white under the flames.

9:00

Alishka retrieved the plates and utensils and finished setting the table. Alaya diced tomatoes, cucumber and shredded the lettuce before tossing everything together in a brightly colored bowl just as Ethan and John returned with the steaks.

‘We need to let these sit for a couple of minutes,’ John said, taking off his hat, putting the platter of steaks on the table.

‘Perfect timing,’ Alaya said. ‘Let me just get the peas and potatoes in a bowl and dinner will be ready.’

‘So what were both of you talking about?’ John asked taking a seat. ‘It seemed pretty funny, for starters, amongst other things.’

‘It was nothing,’ Alishka said with a dismissive wave. ‘It was just Alaya being nosy about my life.’

‘Or, it was me being the cousin you always loved and told everything to.’

‘Oh you are not that fascinating,’ Alishka countered.

‘There’s always hope,’ John quipped, making everyone laugh.

Dinner passed easily, punctuated by laughter and stories. Outside, the moon rose even higher in the sky, making it blush with a lovely mix of light clouds and stars.

10:00

Once they were done with the dishes, Alaya nudged Alishka in the ribs by her elbow.

‘What?’ she asked, setting aside the cloth she had been using to wipe the dishes dry.

‘Both of you should go riding tomorrow.’

For a moment, she just stared at her cousin, stunned. ‘You are kidding,’ she finally said.

‘I am not. Come on, you don’t come down here a lot these days, do you? So maybe you could just go riding tomorrow, have some fun and everything. We’ve got three horses, so it won’t even be a problem.’

‘What about John? What about all the chores – I-’

‘You don’t worry about that. He’ll finish work by one, then you both can go riding. It’ll be fun, trust me.’

‘Uh…’

Before she could stop her, she marched past her into the living room where John and Ethan sat talking.

‘Dr. Ramsey,’ Alaya said brightly.

Behind her, Alishka tensed visibly.

‘I was just telling Alishka about how beautiful the weather is these days, and how amazing it would be to ride in such fine weather.’

No.

‘I think you both should do it tomorrow.’

*********

This is me ignoring canon and creating worlds of my own while I am gone. Part two coming soon.

Thank you all for your lovely support and for reading, love you.

Taglist: Let me know if you want to be added or removed

#ethan ramsey x mc #ethan ramsey #open heart #ethan x mc #ethanramsey #openheart #choices #fanfiction

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earth16comicswire · 3 years

Text

Administrator Sly Moore conspires against Darth Vader

Administrator Sly Moore has been in Emperor Palpatine’s inner circle when he was still Chancellor of the Galactic Republic. A cunning political figure hailing from the planet Umbara and who is Force-Sensitive, Moore is dangerous, possibly much more so than the Emperor’s other right-hand person, Grand Vizier Mas Amedda.

When Darth Vader was punished by Emperor Palpatine for his side quest of finding out more information about his son, Luke Skywalker, Moore was one of the allies the Emperor ordered to eliminate the former Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker. After Ochi of Bestoon, a Sith assassin, thought that he had defeated Vader on the volcanic planet of Mustafar, the Administrator felt that she had to pick up the pieces due to knowing that Vader could not be kept down that easily. After Vader got off Mustafar with Ochi as his prisoner, Moore was on board a Star Destroyer pursuing Vader and sending an entire fleet of TIE Fighters after him. However, the Sith quickly defeated the TIEs thanks to his skills as a pilot, his abilities in the Force, and a giant space creature enroute to the planet Exegol.

After she, Vader, and Ochi witness the Emperor’s true power and his plans involving Exegol, Moore also witnesses the Emperor’s armored enforcer being restored. However, this has the administrator concerned and by the end of “Darth Vader no.13,” she is revealed to have conspired with IG-88 and a secret group of followers to finally kill Vader.

Warning Spoilers Ahead

“Star Wars: Darth Vader no. 14” begins on the Imperial throne world of Coruscant where two Imperial cadets are in awe at how Darth Vader survived his ordeal on Mustafar by just being held together by Separatist droid parts. They comment that Vader is basically unstoppable. As Vader strides triumphantly with his new right hand man Ochi of Bestoon at his side, Administrator Sly Moore is not at all impressed.

Seeing her disappointment, Emperor Palpatine instigates jealousy within the Umbaran when he asks if she is satisfied with Vader being restored to full function and health. Sly admits that she failed to defeat Vader which the Emperor agrees and then chuckles as he walks away from her. To make matters worse, as the Umbara follows the Emperor, Grand Vizier Mas Amedda tells her that she is needed at the Prescreen Department. Moore quickly learns that due to her failure, she has been demoted to Sub-administrator. The Umbaran looks on as Amedda and Palpatine take the turbolift toward the Imperial Palace. Several Imperial officers and stormtroopers look on at the now Sub-administrator Moore.

As I continue to read this series, I continue to praise Greg Pak as one of the many writers who knows how to write Star Wars along with Charles Soule. In this issue, the story’s main focus is on Sly Moore and the ongoing battle for supremacy within the Emperor’s inner circle. The inner conflict within the Galactic Empire is nothing new in Star Wars. We have seen plenty of Imperials conspire against each other or their allies. For example, there have been several past stories where the Grand Moff Tarkin has traded blows with Darth Vader. In addition, there have been previous comic issues where the Emperor has sent potential new enforcers or apprentices to kill Vader so that he can replace him. Furthermore, there have been other stories in the Star Wars Legends lore, like “Shadows of the Empire, '' where Vader has deep animosity for the Emperor’s ally and leader of the Black Sun criminal syndicate, the Falleen Prince Xizor. In this latest “Vader” issue, Paks narration and dialogue between the characters are a reminder of how the Sith operate with each other and their allies. I also feel that Pak’s inclusion of the subtle infighting within the Emperor’s inner circle is a reminder of the Tragedy of Darth Plagueis with Wise.

While toiling away at the Prescreen Department with two Imperial officers, the now Sub-administrator Moore discovers that a high-ranking Imperial has been given an invitation to attend the auction of the carbonite frozen Han Solo from Crimson Dawn. Moore also hears the name “Skywalker” and sees this as a potential opportunity to enact revenge on Darth Vader.

Moore begins to put her plan into motion by heading to the repair block where Vader was fully restored back in “Darth Vader no. 12” so that she can get the schematics on his machine-infused anatomy. Mas Amedda catches her and the two discuss their roles within the Emperor’s inner circle and how they serve the Sith and do not have the power to “indulge in their pleasures.” Sly being sly tells Amedda to pretend that he did not catch her while she, unbeknownst to the Grand Vizier, creates a holodisk containing the schematics on Vader’s anatomy.

It is here that we learn how bounty hunter assassin droid IG-88 was able to track down Vader and temporarily have the upper hand on him during their fight in the last issue. It was Moore and her fellow conspirators who provided the assassin droid and his army of droids with the disk.

Toward the end of the comic, we are left off at the part where IG-88 meets with Moore and her followers. The droid tries to terminate his bounty contract since Vader defeated him during their last encounter. Much to Moore’s horror, Vader sneaks behind IG-88 and slices the droid with his crimson-colored lightsaber. Moore and her followers flee from the Sith Lord while they try to kill him. Moore also tries using the same mechanism IG-88 used to defeat Vader but ultimately, Vader overpowers her.

With no choice and admitting defeat, the Umbaran bargains with Vader by mentioning the Crimson Dawn invitation to the auction of Han Solo and also how Luke (who would not be far behind to rescue the smuggler) could potentially kill Vader. Sly makes a promise with the Sith Lord to purchase Solo for Vader so that the Sith could not only take Solo but also potentially fight Luke. The two come to a compromise on the plan. However, at the auction, things go south when Jabba the Hutt and his fellow Hutt, Bokku (who has allied with Vader) outbid Sly. The administrator is puzzled as to why Bokku, who is allied with Vader, is bidding against her. Ochi responds that it is the Hutt’s way to humiliate her and himself which in turn would expose her weakness to the Emperor.The assassin further explains that although Sly was very power with uniting her allies to defeat Vader, the Sith Lord is too powerful to let that happen. The end of this issue leaves off toward where “War of the Bounty Hunters no. 2” ended but with Vader inviting himself to the auction by force choking several Crimson Dawn guards.

As I mentioned before, the character of Administrator Sly Moore is very dangerous and shrewd. Greg Pak brought this character to life. Before the “Vader” comic, Moore was just a character who stood on the sidelines with a brooding expression in the “Star Wars” prequel films. Pak’s take on Sly Moore is a high ranking Imperial official who is an opportunist and a quick study. She is willing to do whatever it takes when an opening presents itself to execute her plan. She also is no push over when it comes to executing that plan by mentioning Luke Skywalker being the only person who could kill Vader and take his place. This shows that she is as much of a manipulator as the Emperor. In the end of the day, it doesn't matter who dies in the fight between Vader and Luke (who she may or may not know are father and son). One way or another, whoever dies, she would probably go for the killing bow.

I also like the direction Vader is going in this arc also. Yes, he knows that Luke is his son however, it seems that the Emperor wants to use that in order for him to have one less Skywalker to worry about. The Emperor is hell bent on manipulating Vader to kill Luke or vice versa since having an enforcer strong in the Force would serve his agenda. Especially if the Emperor was able to seduce someone as powerful as Anakin to the Dark Side. It will be interesting to see if Vader really is set on killing Luke or if this is just a ruse to get the Emperor off his scent of his own plans which involve having his son rule at his side.

The art by Raffaele Lenco and the coloring by Jason Keith played just as huge of a role as Pak’s writing did in bringing Sly Moore to life. The drawings of Sly Moore show the stark differences between her time as administrator in the Galactic Republic to her time as administrator for the Empire. When she was administrator for the Republic, she was wearing a silver, or lighter, gown while under the Empire, she was wearing an all black short trench coat with black slacks and boots. In addition to her clothing, Moore’s facial features are further darkened and chiseled, possibly to show her age throughout the 23-years she has been in service to Palpatine. But I also think that those additional lines and shading on her face make her far more brooding than she did in the prequel films.

Overall, the “War of the Bounty Hunters” arc has been the blockbuster of the summer that has rocked the Skywalker Saga in the Disney era. There hasn’t been such an arc since the Shadows of the Empire that has changed the landscape and expanded the Star Wars Universe. With the inclusion of Han Solo’s ex girlfriend Qi’ra, from “Solo: A Star Wars Story,” pulling the strings by gathering all entities in the galaxy, there is no way that it would be a “Star Wars” blockbuster without Darth Vader. Greg Pak’s post “Empire Strikes Back” Vader is ruthless, determined, and cold-blooded. From what I read, he knows that he cannot take on the Emperor alone but he also knows that Luke could very well defeat him. With that, Vader has no choice but to kill Luke or at least defeat him enough so that he could have one less potentially powerful enemy to worry about. Or, as I mentioned before, Vader is likely playing possum and secretly wants to have Luke at his side (which he actually does) so that they can overthrow the Emperor.

“Star Wars: Darth Vader no.14” is now out wherever comic books are sold.

Writer: Greg Pak

Artist: Raffaele Ienco

Colorist: Jason Keith

Letterer: VC’s Joe Caramagnna

Publisher: Marvel Synopsis: “The Blade Behind the Curtain" For decades, no figure has stood as close to theEmperor with so much mystery surrounding her. Who is theUmbaran? What is her role within the Empire and in the War of the Bounty Hunters? And what happens when she emerges from the darkness to challenge Darth Vaderhimself? Featuring an unprecedented look at the inner workings of the Emperor inner circle – and the return of IG-88!

#star wars #war of the bounty hunters #darth vader #marvel

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sweeethinny · 4 years

Note

DUDE WHATTT!!!! I just read ur jilly reacting to hinny first kisss. Dude it was amazingg. But imagine if jilly were alive and James finding out that his daughter in law got a contract to be a professional quidditch player. HE WOULD FREAK. If u have the time pleaseee write thisss.

OMG thank yooou, i love Jily so much, and i love write them alive!

i hope you liked <3

-----------

It was early August when the Potter decided that they needed to take a vacation, James claimed that it had been so busy years and that they almost never took advantage of the Boat he bought almost five years ago, when he started to take an interest in the subject and see various programs who were dedicated to naval practice

"Does your dad really think he can do it?" Ginny asked as soon as she finished closing her bags, smiling at Harry lying on her bed, sprawled as he waited, arms crossed behind his head and following her with his eyes

''He found a pilot. After my mother convinced him, of course, that he would hardly know how to fly a boat just by watching TV shows''

The two had been dating for a while, since the end of Harry's fifth year, and Ginny had been practically adopted by the Potter family, who included her in absolutely every outing, dinner and any celebration.

Lily and she spent hours talking in the greenhouses, sometimes the mother-in-law said about how the studies she had been doing had been improving and giving results, and that it would not be long before the patients who wounds caused by curses, finally healed. Sometimes they just talked about trivial things, like the gift Harry had bought her, or some gossip they heard.

James was also a big fan, Ginny suspected even more than Harry, hers. They flew and played almost every vacation, and the father-in-law made sure to include her in everything related to Quidditch, always reminding her how good Ginny was.

"Even more than I was, and I was considered one of the best of that time"

So traveling with the Potter was not something new, but traveling with them in the same week that might or might not arrive at the letter that would tell she about the final decision on her contract with the Harpies was too much.

''You'll be accepted, I don't know why you're so nervous'' The two of them had just stepped into the Mansion - even though Harry insisted it wasn't one - and Ginny could barely count the anxiety that was eating at her bones, rhythmically tapping her fingers against the thigh and trembling feet when sitting

''Because everything can go wrong. If they think not ...''

''..They liked you'' Harry stated, squeezing her shoulders and forcing her to stop ''Everything will be fine''

Then, the four embarked for the trip to the port, Lily drove spectacularly well, laughing and having fun with the songs that played on the radio, pretending not to notice how restless her daughter-in-law was, who spent more time looking out the window than playing along with James.

''I think all of this will be good .. We need time out of communication. Of course owls can still find us, but only the most important matters'' Lily smiled in the rearview mirror, winking at the redhead in the back seat.

As soon as they arrived on the boat - named Euphemia, in honor of James' late mother - Ginny thought she would throw up right there, before they started moving through the calm, clean waters. The fear of being rejected and not being able to join any team, made her lose sleep and become more and more anxious, which made Harry worried and spent the nights by her side, talking and telling stories that she had already heard but who asked again just to distract her mind and laugh at boyfriend.

When they started the real boat trip, she felt calmer.

The island they were going to stay on was wonderful, with clear, calm waters, and a sun that made Ginny have to wear sunscreen every hour. But it was totally worth it.

The boat ride was also magnificent, with all that wind in her face, the feeling of freedom and happiness that made her forget the tests she had done six months ago, and the most beautiful landscape she had ever seen in her life.

''I said, Lils, buying that boat was the best way to invest the money '' James said as they prepared to jump into the water, with Muggle equipment needed so they could dive deeper and deeper into the water kingdom who lived there (the pilot would never let them jump with only they bathing suits on, and Lily forbade them to bewitch the poor boy so they could use magic)

"Do you feel better?" Harry asked her as soon as they sat down to lunch, the sun at the top of the sky and the birds singing everywhere; the table was full of light, delicious foods that would not make them throw up as soon as the boat started up again, and Ginny almost moaned when she tasted the salad that Lily made with mango and pineapple.

"Yep’’ And it was true.

[...]

On Sunday morning, Ginny almost jumped out of bed when an owl hit her and Harry's bedroom window. The boyfriend was still sleeping peacefully, too tired from the past few days, much more tan than he had a week ago, and looking even more handsome. Already she had a beautiful burnt shoulders, in addition to the red cheeks that her boyfriend said made she look like a cute child.

“Mrs. Wealey.

It is with great pleasure that we inform you that Holyhead Harpies is honored to announce that Ginevra Molly Weasley, 18, is officially part of the team, and that, if she agrees, the new member should pass by the Human Relations office without fail for effect the hiring until Tuesday, 08 of 1999 ...... ''

They accepted her

''Gin?''

''I came in'' She was still gaping at the letter ''I came in Harry'' And then her realized, dropping the long letter with all the rules and terms, she started jumping with joy, smiling from ear to ear '’I was accepetd’’

After the celebrations with Harry, which were based on many congratulations from him, and sex, the two left the room. The in-laws were in the kitchen, James seasoning the fish they had caught the night before, while Lily prepared a dessert pie. Ginny had always thought that the fact that her boyfriend was an incurable romantic came from having parents like that.

Molly and Arthur were in love with each other, there was no doubt, but Ginny always admired the way James treated Lily, always zealous, making sure she had everything she needed around her, paying attention whenever she started talking, as if Lily was the only person in the world.

''Urgh, you guys give me a toothache'' Harry kissed his mother's head as soon as she noticed them both, smearing his finger with stuffing and licking it, and running when Lily tried to hit him with a wet towel for touching the food

''How are you? I saw that an owl arrived earlier today ... any problem?'' James asked, without looking at any of them, focusing on the knife he used to clean the animal in front of him

''A letter from the Harpies arrived'' And as if Ginny said she had won the lottery, her in-laws turned to look at her, eyes wide.

''And ...?'' James looked more anxious than Harry, when she told him that she had entered

''You are talking to the newest player, reserve, from the Holyhead Harpies team'' She could barely contain her smile, almost jumping with joy again. Saying it out loud made everything more and more real.

''Oh Merlin! Ginny this is amazing!'' Before Lily arrived at the daughter-in-law, James ran over her, passing in front and hugging the girl with all enthusiasm

''I knew you could do it, I knew it! I told Sirius, you play so well! Jones would be being blind if she didn't accept you on the team. Oh dear, have you told your parents yet? Harry, we need to have a party when we get back! We will all wear green, in her honor'' He spoke without stopping, looking at her with happiness ''Now I will have to cheer for the Harpies, I cannot be against my daughter-in-law'' Ginny knew she was red, but it was impossible to try to hide enthusiasm when James was like that ''I knew, since Harry told us that you had learned to fly alone, I said that you would still play professionally ... Oh Merlin, we need to celebrate''

''James dear, don't choke her'' Lily pushed her husband away, and Ginny could see that she and Harry were laughing, looking amused by the moment ''I'm so happy, I saw you were nervous earlier, but I didn't want to meddle ... You will look so beautiful in green''

After the hugs, James decided that they shouldn't spend time cooking, and that he certainly wasn't seasoning that fish properly, so they went out to eat, in a restaurant not far away.

''Your father looks happier than me'' She whispered to her boyfriend when they got home and saw that, somehow, they had ordered a cake decorated in Harpy colors and with her name on top

''He loves you a lot more than he loves me .. You had to see it when I told him I asked you to date''

''I think he'll fall back when we have a son'' Harry laughed, kissing her head and nodding

''You know, you're the daughter he never had ... I don't doubt that he would trade me for you. For free'' James came back from the kitchen, Lily and him seeming to discuss what the best drink for the celebration, if wine, beer or Champagne

"To Ginny! The future star of the Holyhead Harpies'' They toasted - each with a chosen drink.

And Ginny was happy that, on that rainy afternoon in her fourth year, she was in detention with Harry. Because she would certainly never find a second family better than that.

#harry X ginny #ginny weasley #Harry Potter #harry one shot #james x lily #jily prompt #jily lives #jilytober #hinny #hinnyprompt #hinny au #hinny fluff #hp prompt #hp couples

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flowerpowell · 3 years

Text

The Royal Holiday Romance (Liam x MC)

PART FOUR

A/N: Technically it’s still winter so technically it’s okay for me to post this lol. I know the last chapter was posted over a month ago but I hope no one noticed 🙊 Anyway, here’s chapter four of this lil festive mini series! Hope you’ll enjoy it!

Rating: G

Tagging: @twinkleallnight @kingliam-rys @sfb123 @iaminlovewithtrr @gardeningourmet @gkittylove99 @texaskitten30 @delightfullypinkglitter @kingliam2019 @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @lodberg @shanzay44 ❣

Victoria was Tori. Tori was an actress which meant Victoria was the actress that worked with Hana Lee. Which also meant, Liam took a deep breath, she was in the palace when Liam decided to sneak out to meet her. He groaned at the realization.

The guys had asked him all sorts of questions when he recognized Victoria on the picture. He had to confess to his secret meetings with her as well as him not telling her about who he really was. Both Maxwell and Drake insisted on telling her the truth as soon as possible but Liam was hesitant. First of all, Victoria herself wasn’t honest either. Sure, her lie was minor, she still worked in the film industry, and from what Drake told him, she really wanted to be a movie critic. Admitting to being a King was on a whole new level and Liam wasn’t sure he wanted to do that. It felt really nice to be with someone who saw him as Liam, just Liam, not the King.

Liam was headed to meet her but the closer he was to his destination, the more hesitant he was. What should he do? The seemingly unanswerable question echoed in his mind non-stop.

~~~~

This time, Victoria spotted him first. She waved at him as soon as she noticed his tall and slim figure but it seemed like he was lost in his thoughts. She chuckled as he frowned at his own thoughts. Whatever occupied his mind, must have been a very absorbing topic because Liam went straight past her without even realizing it.

“Hello, stranger, may I ask what time is it?” She tapped him on the shoulder but he didn’t even look up.

“Hmm, sure, it’s… late,” he murmured and Victoria laughed.

“It’s good to see I’m not the only daydreamer here. Are you okay?”

“What?” Liam looked up and noticed Victoria smiling at him. “Victoria! Hello!”

“Hi. Is everything okay? You seemed tense.”

Liam swallowed hard and smiled. “Everything’s perfect now that you’re here. It was just… something work related.”

Victoria nodded. “If you need to—”

“No. The only thing I want right now is to spend time with you,” he replied as Victoria’s face lit up.

“In this case, how about we go to that coffee shop and grab a coffee for the start?” She suggested. Liam was just about to agree but then he realized that as much as he wished to be that anonymous Liam, he would be recognized in an instant if he showed up there.

“I’m good. Not really a fan of coffee,” he lied.

“Oh… okay. Would you mind if I got myself a cup?” she asked and Liam shook his head, feeling guilty for not being able to get her a coffee.

What a gentleman you are, Liam Rys, he scolded himself as Victoria disappeared in the café. Not only a gentleman but also a coward and a liar. Good job.

When five minutes later Victoria joined him, with a cappuccino in one hand and a tea for Liam in the other (which made him even more guilty), he took her free hand and led to their first destination, far away from people.

~~~~

Liam thought everything through.

Victoria was amazed at every single thing he organized. He showed her around his favorite park, which, for some unknown to her reason, was empty. He said it wasn’t a popular park to go to, but he didn’t mention the fact that he closed the park for a day so they could enjoy their walk without any people.

He then drove her to another place, the beach, which looked even more amazing covered in the snow. Liam thought about literally everything because just as she started to get hungry, he took out a picnic basket from the trunk.

“Wow,” she commented.

“I hope it’s not too much.” Liam smiled sheepishly. “But I didn’t want us to starve to death.”

“It’s perfect. I’m not sure if eating outside is a great idea, though. It’s so cold!”

“It’s always colder by the sea,” Liam explained. “For our dinner, I’m taking you to my other favorite spot. It’s near the beach but at the same time it’s far enough from the wind.”

“Color me intrigued,” she said before letting Liam take her hand and lead her.

Ten minutes into their walk, she already knew Cordonia was the most beautiful place on Earth.

“Forgotten Falls in their winter glory!” Liam announced when they finally arrived and Victoria stood silent, admiring the view and looking for an adjective that would describe that beauty appropriately. Liam chuckled. “Impressive, isn’t it?”

“That’s one word for it. Is everything so perfect in Cordonia?”

“I don’t want to brag but… yes. Cordonia is absolutely perfect,” he admitted and watched her bursting into laughter.

“I wish I loved my country that much. But being here, I see how easy it is to love Cordonia. The landscapes are stunning, the food is delicious, the people seem to like their King…”

Liam tensed at her words. Did she suspect anything?

“The King?” he asked.

“I mean, I don’t know. But from what Hana told me about him and then meeting his friends, I think he must be a good King.”

Liam let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. She didn’t know anything. You should tell her. You know the truth about her, she should know the truth about you. Tell her.

“I brought some soup. Would you like some?” Liam ignored the voice in his head.

~~~~

Liam outdid himself.

That was the only thing that came to her mind when they pulled up to their last destination. She was well aware of Liam’s eyes on her; she knew he wanted to see her reaction. He knew all too well how much she loved cinema.

“I… I can’t believe it,” she whispered.

Liam laughed. “You don’t have to whisper, I booked the whole cinema for us.”

“Who are you?” Victoria’s eyes widened and his face fell a little. Maybe it was too much? Maybe now she’d be able to tell he’s a King?

“I asked the owner for a favor.” Liam tried to sound normal. “It’s not a popular cinema around here; it’s old and has only one screening room. He was more than happy to help me.”

“This. Is. The. Best. Day. Of. My. Life!!!” Victoria exclaimed and Liam grinned. For some reason, making her happy made him even happier. He wasn’t smiling that much in years. Maybe because for the first time in forever, someone didn’t see just a King in him.

He ignored that thought.

“I have found some short and unknown in Hollywood adaptations of the Grimm’s fairytales and I thought, who is better to watch it with than you?”

“This is… I don’t even know what to say!” Victoria threw her arms around Liam’s neck and hugged him. For a second, he thought he forgot how to breathe. He was nervous she’d see what an effect she had on him as his heart was beating like crazy but when she pulled away she was smiling as if nothing happened.

“It feels like a dream!” She finally said as they walked into the room and Victoria picked seats for them. “I feel like I’m a princess with the cinema all to myself.”

Liam coughed at her words. He needed to tell about he was soon or else he’d lose his sanity.

~~~~

It was a bad idea.

Yes, Victoria seemed to enjoy it, love it even but Liam was painfully aware of everything he had been keeping from her. Every time he heard a mention of a King, prince, princess or a kingdom (which was very often) he tensed and his mind wandered to his own situation. When it was finally time for Allerleirauh, Victoria’s favorite tale, he could barely sit still. The story about a girl who was a princess but pretended to be a servant wasn’t exactly the same as his but he still found similarities. When the mini-movie marathon was over, he felt Victoria squeeze his hand.

“Thank you. This was the best thing someone has ever done for me.” She said and he turned to her, noticing tears in her eyes. Throwing caution to the winds, he leaned down and kissed her. To his surprise, he felt her returning the kiss.

Her lips were cold, maybe because it was winter and it was cold in the cinema, maybe because she was nervous. Either way, he enjoyed the sensation of her cold lips getting warmer with each kiss. They were kissing until the closing credits came to an end and the whole room was silent again.

“I…err…” Liam started and ran his hand through his hair nervously.

“I… should tell you something,” Victoria started, not looking at Liam. “I’m… not a movie critic.” She bit her lip. “I wish I was though. Instead, I’m an actress. Not like a big one or anything. Just some background characters. And it’s fine because acting was never for me.”

Liam opened his mouth to say something but Victoria didn’t stop.

“I don’t know why I lied. I’m sorry. I just… I was nervous if I told you, you’d ask me about the movies I was in and be disappointed because they’re all niche and not known. And I was studying to be a movie critic anyway. And after today… After all you’ve done for me and then the kiss…” She blushed. “I just couldn’t hide it any longer. You don’t deserve to be deceived like that. Will you… forgive me?”

Liam swallowed hard. He nodded hesitantly, trying to calm his racing heart.

“There’s nothing to forgive. You didn’t do anything bad.” But I did. Liam opened his mouth to finally confess to his lie but before he was able to do that, he felt Victoria’s lips on his. He closed his eyes and kissed her back, hoping it’d be an apology he never said out loud.

~~~~

He didn’t tell her.

He didn’t tell her anything after their make out session in the cinema.

He didn’t tell her anything when she told him how light she finally felt after telling him the truth.

He didn’t tell her anything when she told him about the movies she played in.

He didn’t tell her anything when she told him about her wildest dreams and deepest fears.

He didn’t tell her anything when he drove her back to her hotel.

He didn’t tell her anything when she kissed him goodbye and thanked him for the best day in her life.

He didn’t say a word to Maxwell and Drake, who waited for him in the palace, worry written all over their faces.

He didn’t say anything when he looked at himself and in the mirror and saw a coward.

He didn’t say anything when Victoria sent him a message telling him she wanted him to meet Hana.

He didn’t even say anything as he was lying in his bed and realized that he was madly in love with Victoria Brooks.

#the royal romance #the royal heir #choices #playchoices #king liam #liam rys #liam x mc #king liam x mc #choices trr #my fics

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cinnawrites · 3 years

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An Unexpected Painting Session

Summary: After always seeing the Chief Alchemist paint and sketch and paint some more, Kaeya decides to give it a try. Turns out it takes a lot more skill than meets the eye to reproduce something as beautiful as one of Albedo’s paintings.

A/N; FINALLY something that isn’t Thanzag! Here’s my first Genshin Impact work! I’ve been super into Genshin lately, but haven’t written anything until now. Enjoy!

As the cool air of Dragonspine grazes Albedo’s fingers, he drew yet another stroke across his canvas, almost finishing his piece. He took a step back, admiring his work in progress from afar. He loved painting the various landscapes Dragonspine had to offer. Every area he would pick on this mountain to create a new piece offered him a new look on his surroundings. He never got bored of it, unlike other topics of research he has lost interest in long ago.

He loved coming up to Dragonspine. He didn’t mind the cold as much as any adventurer would. He found it quite soothing, in fact. The mysteries the mountain held also drew him in, helping him find many new things to investigate. His lust for learning would never be satisfied, the complexity of these cold summits were proof of that.

Yet, there was another cold and mystifying subject that had enticed him just as much as Dragonspine.

Albedo paced back to his canvas, satisfied with what he’s produced so far. As he continued filling in the snowy peaks in the landscape ahead of him, he thought of said subject. A subject as enticing as the peculiar wonders of Dragonspine seems impossible to think of, yet it stuck to Albedo's mind. The mystery behind a certain Cryo user who loves to go around teasing and flirting with everyone he encounters on his way.

A subject just as peculiar as Dragonspine could be none other than the enigma behind Kaeya, the Cavalry Captain of the Knights of Favonious.

Albedo dipped his paintbrush into another shade of blue as he pondered about Kaeya some more. A man who disappears to Celestia knows where, it was only a matter of time for Albedo to find interest in him. What secrets does he hold? What is he hiding in plain sight? Might he be planning something dangerous? Why does he wear an eyepatch all the time? Why does every word he speaks baffle, yet still draw Albedo in further and further? All these questions were still a mystery to him, and he was willing to do whatever it takes to find the answers to them.

The chill in the area felt a lot colder now that Albedo had concluded his thoughts. He continued to paint, thinking that the change was just a brief gust of wind. However, the newfound feeling of a more chilling air around him lingered. Surely his fire didn’t go out, he could still feel the presence of the heat from behind him. However, there was another presence there, but not one of a campfire, or an object. It was a person.

“My, my, will you not even greet me with a simple ‘Hello’ or a ‘Nice seeing you here’?”

It is almost as if the Archons had heard Albedo’s thoughts and had brought to him the exact person on his mind. He turned to face Kaeya, a smile on the man’s face.

“And what brings you here to Dragonspine, Sir Kaeya?” Albedo asked, placing his paintbrush down, “It is quite cold up here, might I add.”

“Come on now, Albedo. There’s no need to be so formal,” Kaeya advanced towards him, particularly eyeing his artwork, “I just wanted to admire the scenery, the cold is barely a problem.”

Right, Kaeya did possess a Cryo vision after all. There isn’t a doubt that the cold wouldn’t nearly come close to affecting him. Albedo watched as Kaeya tried to get a peek at the canvas, though he was standing right in front of it, obscuring his vision. The smile still lingered on the Cavalry Captain’s face as he tried to look over Albedo’s shoulder, going from side to side as the alchemist followed his every movement. Typical of Kaeya to have such a childish nature, while still acting like an adult. Another captivating thing to note, Albedo thought.

“Oh please, won’t you let me have a look?” Kaeya asked, now standing still in front of Albedo.

“You should have just asked instead of going around me like some sort of child,” Albedo responded, looking up at Kaeya with a calm, yet irritated stare, “If I were painting in front of Klee, she would have done the same thing.”

Kaeya feigned an expression of hurt, putting his hand up to his chest, “You wound me, Chief Alchemist. May I see this wonderful painting of yours that you’re trying oh so hard to hide from me?”

Albedo nodded and took a step aside to reveal the piece he had worked on for Barbatos knows how long now. Kaeya hummed in satisfaction as he admired the work of art. It was of the snowy mountains of Dragonspine, of course, but it had such exquisite and fine detail, you wouldn’t be able to tell it apart from the real thing. The shades of blue and gray used were identical to the landscape. Kaeya looked up at the area in front of him, and then back down at the painting, humming once more.

“Such intricate detail as always,” Kaeya stepped back, looking at Albedo with a smile, “Truly another impressive feat of yours, how do you do it?”

Albedo appreciated Kaeya’s compliments, yet felt a wave of embarrassment overcome him. While praises certainly did feed into his pride, he couldn’t help but feel sheepish when receiving them. Especially when it came from Kaeya, it seems.

“It takes a lot of practice,” Albedo explained, ignoring his embarrassment with a cool expression on his face, “It’s taken a lot of time for my work to turn out like this.”

“Of course, of course,” Kaeya says in a genuine tone. He approached Albedo again, inspecting his art tools, “I wonder if I could do something as wonderful as this as well.”

“Would you like to try painting?” Albedo asks out of curiosity. Surely, it was what he was implying, but he still decided to ask. It was hard to tell what Kaeya meant at times, another reason why he disliked talking to and having relations with people. Kaeya simply laughed.

“I mean, it wouldn’t hurt to try,” Kaeya said, rubbing the back of his head, “However, I can assure you it won’t be a masterpiece like yours, prepare your eyes.”

Albedo nodded, “Well, I suppose you already know the basics of painting, correct?”

“I’d say I do, it doesn’t seem too complex,” Kaeya said, swiftly picking up the paintbrush that Albedo had placed down, “Do you happen to have a spare canvas?”

“Of course I do, I wouldn’t go around with just one canvas to spare,” Albedo reached down into the bag placed at his feet and fished out a fresh new canvas. He grabbed a new paintbrush as well as a cloth, which wasn't as clean as one would expect. He took the brush Kaeya was twirling in his hands away from him, earning a confused and upset expression from the captain.

"Hey, I was going to use that," Kaeya frowned. Albedo traded the used paintbrush with the clean one he fetched from his bag.

"It's dirty," Albedo explained, swiftly and gracefully taking a step towards the fire. There was a cup of nearly frozen water placed right by it. If he hadn't left it there, it would've been as hard as the ice covering the ground all around him. He knelt down and picked up the cup, feeling how cold it was despite the fact that he was wearing gloves. He dipped the paintbrush in the water several times, before quickly wiping it dry with the help of his washcloth. Even if it may not have been the cleanest, it did its job quite well.

Albedo got back up, making his way towards Kaeya who had just been standing in front of the easel. He looked over his shoulder and smiled.

"Do you have something in mind that you'd like to paint? It's much better to have an idea of what you'd like to do rather than going in blind," Albedo asked, now standing next to Kaeya. He handed him the palette, which had all the colors needed for Kaeya to create whatever he wanted. Kaeya seemed to be lost in thought, going through the different options he had in mind.

"I suppose I have an idea," Kaeya says, looking down at the palette in his hands. Albedo expected him to explain what he was going to paint, but instead he said, "Could you stand in front of the canvas? I'd like for this piece to be a… surprise."

Albedo, shocked by the sudden request, stepped away from the canvas. He stood facing the captain, so that he could get a look at whatever he was planning on doing. He also just wanted to see Kaeya’s face shift as he tried painting for the first time.

Kaeya rested the hand that held the paintbrush against his chin, seemingly lost in thought. He scanned the blank canvas before him, then finally gasping and dipping his brush into a color Albedo couldn’t guess. He dragged the brush along, making what Albedo could only assume to be thick and broad lines.

The alchemist let his mind wander as Kaeya painted away, studying the Cavalry Captain intensely. He thought more about the man standing in front of him, trying to come to a conclusion for one of the many questions he had asked himself. Nothing particular came to mind as always.

Albedo seemed to think of Kaeya quite often, and not only just to wonder about his past. He found himself thinking of how charming he is to look at, with such admirable features. His skin was blemishless, being a smooth caramel color all around. He'd heard people around Mondstadt speculate that the skin under his eyepatch would be lighter, but he disregarded those comments.

Kaeya's hair was yet another distinct feature of his that Albedo found quite pleasant. Navy hair as silky and smooth as that seemed impossible to be kept that way, especially when considering he would always style it in a low ponytail. One would expect it to get in the way, but Kaeya didn't seem to mind it at all. This made him all the more intriguing to Albedo, getting the gears in his head turning faster and faster. These features happened to make his heart quicken too, which Albedo just couldn't seem to understand the reasoning behind.

Kaeya’s gaze met his, making Albedo turn away in a quick movement. Kaeya chuckled under his breath, his stare lingering on the alchemist’s figure. He seemed to be finishing up his piece, Kaeya taking a step back, and looking at it from different angles.

“It’s done, would you like to see it?” Kaeya asked, “It could be better, but that doesn’t matter now, does it?”

Albedo paced back towards the easel, surprised by what was presented to him.

It wasn’t a landscape like he thought it would be, nor was it a flower or a tree from the surrounding area. The colors were quite nice to look at, he had to admit. From different shades of yellow to blue, with a teal nearing the color of his eyes, he admired the piece before him. Of course, it wasn’t a spectacular painting, he expected that. What he didn’t expect was to be met with his own face on the canvas.

“It’s me,” Albedo remarked, “You decided to paint me?”

“Why yes,” Kaeya explained, putting down the brush and the palette before him, “You have quite the charming appearance, Chief Alchemist.”

Albedo could’ve sworn he felt the heat rise to his face, but he shook it off, “You’re not that bad of a painter yourself, Kaeya. The colors are quite nice. You could use a bit of work on refining your technique.”

“I expected that,” Kaeya said, putting his arms behind his head, “Say, why don’t you teach me how to paint just like you? Shouldn’t be too hard, coming to see each other between our duties.”

“I think that would be quite nice,” Albedo said, a faint smile on his face, “Why don’t we head back to Mondstadt now? It’s getting quite chilly up here. I suppose you don’t have any duties to attend to at the moment and neither do I, so it would be the perfect time to get properly started.”

“Yes, that would be lovely,” Kaeya replied, helping Albedo put his affairs away for their journey down the mountain.

[date posted; 13.04.21]

#genshin #genshin impact #albedo #genshin albedo #kaeya #genshin kaeya #kaeya alberich #kaebedo #genshin fanfic #fanfiction #genshin fandom #teyvat #writing #game

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calunasteria · 3 years

Text

please, xanny. | sanzu haruchiyo

"𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙗𝙪𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙩𝙨 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡𝙨 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚."

- ever wonder how love will feel like if its with sanzu haruchiyo?

current word count: 2.3k

tw (throughout the series): mentions of drug use and abuse, manipulation (gaslighting) and toxic relationships, mentions of blood, death, and murder, rape (attempt), use of deadly weapons, slight nsfw (??) - kindly tell me if i missed one. thank you.

date started: 07/29/21 (wattpad) | 07/31/21 (tumblr)

date ended: -

02 ! please, xanny.

i still dont know sanzu's background/backstory so this might be inaccurate but i'll try to edit this out once i'm done with the story and once their backstory is out (akashi siblings).

note: not proofread

sanzu was never the type to associate and talk his feelings, emotions, and ideas out loud, not unless if it became too much for him to handle. he was never the type to play hero for someone he barely knows because his heart and mind can only let few people in. once he made up his mind about something, or fixated his loyalty for someone, it can never ever waver.

so for him to do such actions to help this girl infront of him, with tear stained face, ruined polo shirt, and ripped cardigan, under the hazy moonlight, with crisp consternation in the air - was definitely something he wouldn't do on normal occasions.

he doesn't know, his body, and his will just shifted and had a strong urge to help when he heard a familiar yet hoarse voice crying for help, when its literally 3 in the morning in a deserted area.

he and kasumi never shared a conversation before the incident, yet he always admired the way she carries herself with confidence, while her eyes says otherwise, for her ebony orbs were almost dead with dwindling light and maybe that's the reason why he, sanzu haruchiyo is somehow interested in her, inconspicuously.

bright, gleaming rays of the golden sun that passed through the transparent glass window woke kasumi up as it was another day, another day to deal with numerous shits with monotonous routines. but this time, she has an objective to go talk to someone. she has something to look forward to for today.

but was completely shut down when she can't get ahold of the man she was trying to find and talk to. he wasn't at his classroom. he didn't attend his classes either - he wasn't at the school.

why? did i do something wrong? kasumi cogitated. she was hopeful to bring him his jacket back and to formally say her thank you to him, but he wasn't even around. and after a few hours of thinking where he might be and why back and forth, she came to a conclusion that maybe he needs to do something else or that something came up that's why he was absent - but as another day goes by, she never saw sanzu haruchiyo again.

he was avoiding her. and she doesn't know what to feel. she was conflicted and amused because how can he avoid her when they literally study in the same school?

"if he doesn't wanna show himself to me, then fine. all i want to do was to say thank you." she sighed as she walked to their house. booming voices and gut wrenching sobs was heard inside, that caught kasumi's attention making her rush towards their front door, frantically opening the doorknob to see what was happening.

"man, she's still not here huh." kaoru pouted as she sat down on their usual place, but the only difference is that kasumi is not present. and its been days since kasumi stopped going to school and attending her part time jobs- and sanzu knows that something was definitely up. although he can't find any information about kasumi's whereabouts and he was somewhat frustrated so he decided to go on a local bar to drink something when he saw a familiar figure, face lying down on a table, multiple empty alcohol bottles found near her.

what the fuck is she doing here, haruchiyo pondered as he rushed towards the unconscious girl. "hey. wake up." he shook kasumi's shoulder making the girl grumble and squint her eyes towards the person who woke her up. her head was wobbly, and her vision was kinda blurry but she recognised the scent that was bewitching her system at that moment.

"sanzu!" she beamed, lifting her head up to see the man before her, eyebrows furrowing as he can now see her upclose - busted lips and eyebrows and an evident chestnut color with a hint of purple and blue bruise across her face. and he felt that again. he felt this urgency back then when he helped her on that night and here he is ushering and helping kasumi out to stand up, head empty just him following what his system is doing.

"stand up. can you walk?" he asked as he tried to hold kasumi up, her eyes unfocused and somewhat lost. "yep!" she chimed in trying to steady her movements as she was now aware that the person she was trying to find last week was now here in front of her.

"really?" sanzu lifted one of his eyebrows, as kasumi tried to shoo away his arms that was supporting her weight to keep her from falling down. "yes, now let me go." and sanzu did, making kasumi almost stumble down as her vision is still swirling, but sanzu caught her waist gracefully before she fell down.

"hold my hand, kasumi, or i'll carry you outside. you choose." sanzu offered and kasumi noticed the genuine concern hinted on his stern voice.

she took his hand all while sanzu swiftly intertwined their hands together, holding her closely, enough for her to feel his warmth that soothed her overflowing emotions these past few days.

he opened the door's car and guided her inside, setting her down carefully as he walked towards the driver's seat to go start the car.

"wait, where are we going? why did i followed you here?" kasumi blinked earning a small scoff from the man beside her.

"why don't you ask your alcohol intoxicated system, nakashima-san?" he was definitely grinning, but kasumi was too tired to argue and her head was wobbling around as if she's swimming in a tide pool.

"were sobering you up." was the last thing she heard from sanzu before car engine started and the scenery before her starts fading away into illuminated lights.

the car came to a halt breaking the deep reverie kasumi was in, and there she noticed that they were infront of a small coffee shop with a very people in, since its already midnight. "were here," sanzu spoke softly, as he grab another jacket on the backseat tossing it to kasumi who's still processing the things that are happening.

as she stepped out of the car, she was greeted by a sharp, cool, wintry breeze that hit her face gently. her vision is still whirling and she still feels lightheaded because of all the drinks she had but she's in a better state now than she was earlier.

the coffee shop was decorated with retro styled lightbulbs that hanged on wooden ceilings, walls with floating shelves that have books and two and tiny succulents, vintage designed portraits, landscapes, and paintings and the ambience tasted like vanilla and sleepless nights as the coffee's aroma permeated their sensation.

"what do you want to order?" sanzu asked, hands inside his pocket, eyes scanning the menu on the screen at the counter, still wearing his face mask.

"just hot chocolate." kasumi replied, as she fumbled with her wallet handing money to sanzu that just walked past her, quickly muttering her to just sit down and wait for him.

kasumi just stared at sanzu while she waited for him who was now at the counter, ordering and it was not long after he came back with a paper bag and hot chocolate on both his hands.

the paper bag contains a box of chocolate cookies that is freshly baked. "who's this for?" she asked, eyebrows raising at sanzu all while he just blankly stared at her.

"for you." he replied nonchalantly as he went outside the coffee shop, kasumi trailing behind him with so many questions pivoting in her head.

"but i only ordered hot choco? and here's the money. how much is the cookies though?" she protested, trying to keep up with his pace and she noticed that sanzu walked pass his car that was parked a few meters from the coffee shop.

"hey, where are you going? kasumi stomped her foot and sighed loudly because sanzu was ignoring all her questions and she doesn't even know where this man is going.

"sanzu haruchiyo!" she called out, still dizzy and frustrated because of how he ignores all her protests and actions and it was as if sanzu snapped out of his train of thoughts after he heard kasumi yell out his name, he then turned around to see her face tainted with color of crimson red, eyebrows furrowed, and a slight pout on her mouth.

"i'm sorry. just follow me, and you'll see." he went back to her with a few steps, taking the paperbag in her hand so she can drink her beverage while he walks towards the nearby beach. kasumi just followed silently, saving all her questions for later. the walk they shared was quiet yet comfortable even though the wind was all they can hear, and some car or vehicles driving past them.

once they reached their destination, kasumi's hot chocolate drink was long gone and the scenery before her got her awestruck and her breath was taken away.

there was no one on the beach except for them, the sound of the waves crashing was a melody in their ears, and the breeze that blew from the horizon tasted like salt and tranquillity. the sky was painted with dwindling gray, the darkest navy blue, and black ink, with the stars, constellations and crescent moon that adorned the cosmos.

they momentarily locked eyes before kasumi went ahead and ran towards the shore, the sweet and gilded sand soaked her feet was rough, yet the waves was gentle and caring.

everything was so beautiful.

she was beautiful, haruchiyo thought. as her raven hair rode through the wind current and her soft facial features was highlighted by the dim illumination of the moon.

kasumi was playing in the sand when she sat down and admired the sky's reflection on the ocean and it was not long after sanzu sat down too, his zircon gem colored eyes glimmering like the stars that hanged on the night sky. its a shame why he still has his face mask on though.

"thank you, sanzu. for everything," she smiled as she looked at him with adoration, their eyes locked with each other, both orbs filled with unsaid emotions, "but why? why are you being so kind to me? when you barely even know me?"

sanzu just stared at her, unable to answer.

because he himself doesn't even know the answer. why? why did he help her and why does he keep on involving himself with her?

"i don't know." he whispered, words getting lost within the soft breeze blowing from the horizon. "but how about you?" he spoke, as he look towards kasumi who's intently looking at him.

"what do you mean? i didn't do anything much." she replied, her heart getting heavier as the moment passes, being in that place now reminds her of the past she can never bring back.

"you have a bruise on your face. you have a busted lip. you weren't attending school and your part time jobs too. we came here so that you can atleast let go of all your problems." sanzu blurted out, making kasumi turn her head towards sanzu, eyes blinking with amusement while a soft chuckle escaped her lips, stretching it into a wide grin.

sanzu looked confused at her reaction, "no, its just that, you literally said a whole paragraph there, i was shocked. you never said anything more than 10 or more words." she explained, as she lay down on the sand, staring at the stars.

"its just, everything is so shitty. i just found out that my father cheated on my ill and sick mom and he raised his hand at her, and that everytime he'd go out he'll just go whoring around with his bitch downtown. and when i stood up for my mom? he beat me up too. god, when the fuck did it all went wrong?" kasumi ranted, tears falling down her eyes non stop as she let out everything that's been hunting her these past few days all while sanzu just listened intently, his heart sinking slowly in behalf of what kasumi had vented.

"there's no such thing as a perfect family, but that doesn't justify what your father did to you." he muttered, and kasumi sat up, wiping away her tears.

"say, sanzu-"

"haruchiyo." he corrected, voice unwavering.

kasumi was astonished. man, he was definitely full of surprises and as the moment they both share together, stretches on, she felt more and more comfortable with his presence. "haruchiyo, can you remove your mask, please?" she asked, and sanzu was taken aback by her request and he doesn't want to remove it yet his hands moved on his own.

why?

is it normal to feel so fucking connected to a person who doesn't even know you before what happened? to feel so comfortable to someone who barely knows you? to feel so secured with someone whom you only shared a few words and moments with?

he doesn't know.

he doesn't know anymore.

his long, slender, and veiny hands moved towards his face mask and finally removed them.

he thought that she might find it unpleasant, and hideous, just like what other people think, so he just hang his head low but then he felt her warm hands lift his chin up, there he saw her with genuine, fond smile, eyes full of affection.

and oh how sanzu fell in love that moment.

but of course he's not gonna admit it.

he just thinks that its the alcohol with her. yeah. she's still drunk, probably. the male mused, trying to convince himself.

both of them talked and stared at the stars for a long time before kasumi fell asleep. but then after that night, the girl disappeared. she never went to school ever again, nor to her part time jobs.

it was as if what happened that night was a dream.

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