#❛ step into the daylight and let it go — ooc.

[cauterisen]

since it's the fifth anniversary of this album i still think this is a kimicoded intro AND a kimicoded song

[heartspower]

tag drop ♡ will add more if i need to but this is what i got for now lmao

[halfway-happyyy]

into gold III {rooster bradshaw}

synopsis: rooster bradshaw’s emotional baggage could fill a cargo container ten times over. he is the single father of a precocious and bubbly six-year-old, and despite his best efforts, has fallen head over heels for someone arguably more damaged than him- his daughter’s first grade teacher.

characters- bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw, frankie bradshaw, female ooc scout wallis (she/her pronouns)

word count- 3200+

or- the one where rooster can't cook, and lays everything out on the line for scout.

read part one and two

An aluminum wing catches a ray of flaming sunlight, rendering her momentarily blind. The moment passes and she catches sight of the plummeting aircraft expecting to see the words ‘LT Beau Wallis “Atlas”’ painted across the side, but what she sees instead is ‘LT Bradley Bradshaw “Rooster”’. A strangled scream tears at the tender flesh of her throat as she watches his FA/18 explode into the side of a mountain before he can safely eject from it. Another precious life snuffed out like a candle in the night. Another love lost forever. Her scream never materializes.

Scout Wallis jolts awake from her nightmare, her entire body covered in a slick sheen of perspiration. To steady her erratic breathing, she studies the movie posters that adorn the walls of Jake’s bedroom. Most of them are westerns; vintage, gun-toting shoot-em-ups that make her long for the simplicity of her grandfather’s cabin.

“Bad dream?”

Jake’s voice catches her off guard before she nods her head. He moves from his spot on the chair in the corner of the room to the bed, taking a seat beside her.

“Must have been out a little while,” She yawns. “Are you almost ready? What time did Rooster say to be over for dinner?”

Jake moves to brush a strand of hair away from her face. “Before we do anything, you and I have some unfinished business to attend to first, Wallis.” Scout suddenly feels the end of their time together looming close, like the ticking hands of an invisible clock. Silence settles a little too long between them before he finally sighs, “This isn’t going to work out between us, is it?”

And it breaks her heart a little bit because in every lifetime apart from this one, she can see herself with Jake Seresin.

She shakes her head, piteously. “I’m sorry, Jake.”

He lifts her hand from beneath his duvet and kisses the back of it gently. “No apologies, Wallis. Frankie’s crazy about you,” A sobering realization sets in behind those beautiful viridian eyes, a flash of something sorrowful passes through them and then it’s gone. Jake swallows hard and shrugs his shoulders. “Rooster is too.”

Scout watches him leave the room, wishing with a pang, that there were something she could do or say to make herself feel a different way, but if there was anything that losing Beau had taught her, it was the importance of letting go when the time came.

They meet on his front porch fifteen minutes later, both regarding each other with a thoughtful intensity. Jake’s the first to break the silence.

“I meant what I said the other night.”

Scout cocks her head in question. “What did you say?”

Jake sighs and squints into the waning daylight above. “That he’d take good care of you. He will take good care of you if you let him, Scout. And you deserve it.”

The inexplicable sting of looming tears pinches behind Scout’s eyes as she opens her arms for a hug which he reciprocates. They stand entwined for a couple of minutes, neither one of them wanting to part just yet.

Jake breaks away first and clears his throat. “Alright Wallis, get outta here.”

She steps down off the porch, walks the few steps toward her car, and then turns to face him. “I’ll see you around, Seresin.”

He grins. “Not if I see you first.”

~

Scout stands poised before Rooster’s front door. She considers setting the mason jar of shells down onto the frayed welcome mat and making a run for it, but no sooner has the thought crossed her mind that the door is opening, and Frankie is standing on the other side of it. She’s dressed head-to-toe like Jessie from Toy Story: cow print, a hat, boots, and all.

“Miss Wallis!” She grins and then excitedly follows that up with, “Papa they’re here!”

Scout hears a pot bang in the kitchen followed by a choice curse word and stifles the giggle that tickles the back of her throat.

“Well, let them in Frankie!”

She herds Scout into the living room and then peeks back out into the growing darkness of the late May evening.

“Where’s uncle Jake?”

Scout swallows hard; fumbles around for something appropriate to say when Rooster appears from out of the kitchen, his cheeks flushed.

“Hi.” He breathes out.

“Hi,” Scout's gaze drifts to the youngster. “You look spectacular Frankie. If I’d known, I’d have brought my Buzz Lightyear costume.”

Her eyes widen in delight. “You have a Buzz Lightyear costume?”

Scout nods.

Rooster rests a large hand atop Frankie’s head. “We’re going through a bit of a Toy Story phase at the moment.” He too, cranes around in search of Jake. “You by yourself?”

Scout nods slowly. “Yeah, Jake couldn’t make it.” Their eyes meet then, and somehow Rooster understands everything without a single word being uttered between them. “But I made sure to stop by to drop these off for you.” She hands Frankie the jar of shells and turns towards the door.

“You’re not staying?” Frankie asks.

Scout doesn’t miss the disappointment in the little girl’s tone. She turns back. “I don’t want to be a bother…”

Rooster shakes his head adamantly. “You could never be a bother. Besides, we’re having Frankie’s favorite.”

“Pancakes!” Frankie squeals and makes a beeline for the kitchen.

Scout sighs happily. "How on earth can I say no, then?"

“It wasn’t supposed to be pancakes,” Frankie licks a glob of maple syrup off her finger. It had been twenty minutes since they’d sat down, with Frankie being the first to break the silence. “But papa had an accident with the steak.”

Scout’s gaze travels to the charred piece of meat in a cast-iron pan at the back of the stove and giggles.

“Thanks Frank.” Rooster rolls his eyes and reaches over to pinch the apple of her cheek, playfully.

Scout swallows her bite and shrugs. “I tend to prefer breakfast for dinner over steak anyway.”

“Me too.” Frankie agrees.

While she’s in the washroom, Scout watches Rooster push the last of the bacon from his plate onto hers. “You full already?”

Rooster shakes his head no with a small smile. “But Frankie loves the stuff and that’s enough for me.”

Scout doesn’t allow herself much time to reflect on the things she looks for in a significant other, but watching Rooster sacrifice the last of his dinner to appease his girl, she can’t help but feel endeared to him more.

As soon as the eggs and bacon and pancakes have been devoured, Frankie turns to Rooster and asks if she can grab the ice cream.

“Why don’t we wait a little bit? Scout might be a bit full of dinner still.”

Frankie falters in confusion. “Your name is Scout?”

Rooster’s cheeks redden and he scrambles to explain himself, but Scout gives her head a soft shake.

“It’s simple Frankie. When you and I are at school together, you need to call me Miss Wallis because I am your teacher. But when we’re like this- or, if you see me at the beach,” She throws a wink Rooster’s way. “You can call me Scout. Does that make any sense?”

Doubt clouds her beautiful green eyes, but she nods her head regardless.

“And I would love you to grab the ice cream. My dessert tube is far from full.”

Rooster watches her head for the basement and then promptly apologizes.

Scout waves it off. “Not at all. It was bound to happen at some point. I’ve just found that it’s best to be as honest with them as you can- as is appropriate.”

Rooster watches her and she feels naked under his gaze but it’s a vulnerability that she doesn’t immediately shy away from. She reckons she could get used to it; likes how it feels akin to standing under a warm shower, or letting sunshine warm your frozen bones on a cold day.

“You do well with her.” He concedes after a while.

Scout allows herself thirty seconds to remember the seedling that had once grown in her belly and smiles. “She’s a wonder, Rooster. Truly.”

“Papa, can you help me please?”

“I’ll be right there sweetheart,” Rooster pushes himself back from the table with a happy sigh. “Frankie has helped prepare a very special dessert this evening. We’ll be right back.”

Scout takes this opportunity to fully drink in the beautiful space around her. The kitchen opens onto the living room which is all whitewash and navy-blue accents. A pair of sliding glass doors lead out onto a half wraparound porch, where a rope swing bench hangs from the second story awning. Open windows give way to the calming staccato of waves crashing against a shore nearby, and she decides then that her favorite part of the house (minus her two dinner companions) may just be its proximity to the ocean. It is entirely charming in its coziness. From her spot at the table, Scout can see that most of the wall space in the living room is hung with pictures Rooster collected during his time in the Navy, and of different stages of Frankie’s life. Her, as a fresh and endearingly wrinkly newborn, next to one that shows him and a toddler Frankie next to his beloved plane. Beside that picture is one of Frankie and Maverick at her kindergarten graduation. A warmth that had felt foreign to her for so long settles in next to her heart and refuses to budge.

“Are you ready Scout?” Frankie’s lilting voice, brimming with excitement, knocks her from her reverie and makes her smile.

“I’m ready, Frankie. Your dad said you worked extra hard to put this dessert together.”

Frankie, suddenly unusually shy, nods her head.

“Alright Frank, you grab the ice cream.” Rooster gestures to the rapidly melting tub behind him and carries a steaming dish of apple crumble to the kitchen table. He tops her plate with a heaping spoonful of the crumble and two healthy scoops of vanilla bean ice cream.

Scout takes a bite and lets her eyes fall shut, savoring the slightly tart taste of the warm apples on her tongue. “This is delicious, Frankie. You did a fantastic job.”

Frankie’s lips turn up into a toothy grin. “Thank you.”

They finish their dessert in silence, and when it’s over, Frankie tugs on the sleeve of Rooster’s t-shirt and leans up to whisper something in his ear.

Rooster frowns. “Why don’t you ask her yourself, Frank?”

Frankie turns to Scout, her expression bashful. “Scout, can I show you my seashell collection?”

Scout passes a napkin over her mouth and nods emphatically. “I would love that, Frankie. Lead the way.”

The rest of the house is just as charming as the main floor, and Frankie’s room is somehow exactly how Scout would have imagined it would be. A white, wrought-iron bed sits beneath a powder blue mosquito net, the top of it crowned with twinkling fairy lights. Behind the bed, a large whimsical rainbow takes up most of the far wall, and a sneaking suspicion tells her that Rooster had something to do with it. A lamp in the corner of her room emits a soft yellow glow, and an array of random wooden furniture takes up the rest of the quaint space. Frankie cradles her jar and points to a blue, paint-chipped shelf beside her bed.

“Mav made that shelf for me for my shells.”

Scout walks the short distance to the shelf in which she’s referring to and drops to her knees in awe. She’s sure Rooster had a hand in helping her organize everything, but even still, her collection is immaculate. There must be over a hundred shells on display- some ranging from the size of a quarter to some the size of a dessert plate.

“These are incredible, Frankie.”

The little girl carefully unscrews the lid on the jar and begins to add them to her collection, ranging in size and color.

“Thank you for helping me, Scout.”

Scout swallows back the sudden tide of emotion and smiles. “It was my pleasure, Frankie.”

“Do you have a favorite one?” she asks.

Scout sighs. They’re all so beautiful. After a while, she points to a small red starfish. “I think that one.”

Frankie grins. “That one’s my favorite too. It always reminds me of Patrick, from Spongebob.”

She’s not sure how long they spend huddled in front of the myriad of shells, but Scout reckons she could listen to Frankie talk about them for the rest of her days and never grow tired of it. A knock at her bedroom door pushes her from her daydream. She glances up to meet Rooster’s gaze, his head leans against the door frame.

“Hi.” Scout smiles.

“Hi you two.”

“Come look at the ones I added, Papa.” Frankie insists.

Rooster pushes himself from the frame and crosses the short distance to where they’re crouched down, planting his hands on her shoulders and leaning in to take stock of the priceless new additions. “You’ve outdone yourself this time, Frank.” He murmurs after a few moments. “But I regret to inform you that it’s time for bed.”

Scout doesn’t miss the exasperated groan that emanates from Frankie.

“Just a little longer, Papa?”

Rooster laughs. “It’s already past your bedtime, sweetheart.”  

Scout rises from her crouched position and places a hand atop Frankie’s head. “Goodnight my friend. Thank you for showing me your wondrous collection.” A thought crosses her mind. “When we do our last show-and-tell before year end, why don’t you bring some of your shells in? I’m sure the other kids would love to see some of them.”

Frankie’s eyes light up. “I would love to!”

Scout grins. “It’s a deal, then. Goodnight Frankie- and sweet dreams.”

She wanders back downstairs, not entirely sure if she should stay. She figures the least she can do is wait to say goodbye to Rooster. A picture on the mantle above the fireplace catches her attention. It depicts a very young Maverick, with his arm wrapped around someone who bears an uncanny resemblance to Rooster. Scout studies the photo; the smiles of the young men speak volumes of excitement and adventure, of youth, and the ability to believe that they would be safe in anything they set their hearts on. Rooster joins her then.

“Is this your father?” she asks, though she reckons she already knows the answer.

Rooster nods before clearing his throat. “Yeah, that’s him.”

Scout smiles. “He looks like you.”

Rooster shifts from foot to foot, as if crafting his next words with care. “I never really thought so, but my mother was adamant that he and I were cut from the same cloth.” He hooks a thumb over his shoulder. “Would you like to stay for a drink?”

Scout wants to say no. She wants to thank him for dinner, and for the companionship that he and Frankie had gifted her this evening, but she just can’t shake the feeling that she’s supposed to be here.

“Yeah, I would.”

“Is there anything you’d like? I’ve got wine, beer, whisky…”

Scout shrugs. “I’m easy. Surprise me.”

Rooster smiles and nods his head. “Alright. I’ll fix us something if you want to find a seat on the porch.”

She does as she’s told and settles onto the swing, reveling in the sound of the ocean nearby. Rooster joins her a little while later, offering her a tumbler of whisky which she gladly accepts. He takes a seat at the opposite end of the bench and raises his drink to her.

“I’m sorry to hear about you and Jake.”

She snorts around the rim of her glass, takes a sip, and shakes her head. “No, you’re not.”

Rooster’s expression is suddenly sheepish. “You’re right. I’m not.”

They’re silent for a moment, Scout already feeling the whisky warming in her belly, causing her cheeks to flame and a flush to start at the base of her throat.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Rooster gazes at her, his expression unreadable, and nods his head. “Anything.”

“Frankie’s mother, what’s the story there?”

A puff of air escapes his parted lips as if he’d been holding it all in. “Not much of a story at all, really. She, uh, left when Frankie was about a year old.”

Scout can barely fathom it.

“Her and I were young when we met. We figured that marriage and children were the next obvious steps, so we took them together and when life got real, she hit the road.” Rooster takes a deep sip and continues. “She tries to get a hold of Frankie every now and then. Always spews some bullshit about coming to visit her, but she never manages to materialize. Fortunately, Frankie and I do alright on our own.”

“You do better than alright, Rooster.” Scout murmurs.

“How about you?” He asks. “You ever been married?”

Scout hesitates before nodding her head. “Yeah, actually. I was married for five years before he passed away.”

It sometimes still feels surreal to her when she says it out loud. That someone could be so close to her for so long and mean so much to her, and then gone at the blink of an eye, keeps her up most nights.

Rooster’s face drops. “I’m so sorry, Scout.”

She swallows back the building emotion and offers a half-shrug. “It’s one of the costs of flying fighter planes for a living, isn’t it?”

Rooster’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Your husband flew planes?”

“There’s a reason I told you I didn’t date men in the military.” she simpers.

They’re silent for a while, the only noise between them the calming sound of waves against sand.

“You’re lucky you live so close to the ocean.”

Rooster smiles, but there’s pain in the depths of his burnt-honey orbs. “My old man perished over the ocean in 1986, so I think I did it to feel closer to him.”

And Scout, maybe more than anyone, understands that completely.

“It’s fucked up, isn’t it?” He muses.

Scout shakes her head. “There’s no right or wrong way to grieve, Rooster. You do what you can.”

It is not lost on her how perfect this night has been, but she knows her time to go is fast approaching. She tips back the rest of her drink, favoring the way it scorches the delicate lining of her throat as it goes down and gets up from her spot on the swing.

“I shared more of myself with you tonight than I have with anyone in a long time.”

Rooster gazes at her. “I'm honored.”

“It’s time for me to go, though. I wanted to thank you for this evening, it was wonderful.”

“It was a pleasure to have you join us, truly.” Rooster follows her to the front door and leans on the frame for support. “I want to take you out, Scout.”

And there it is again. No bullshit. A man who tells her exactly what he wants, and it causes butterflies to take flight in her belly. She thinks of Beau and Jake, and the hell of it all is that she likes Rooster. God, she likes him so much. So she says the only thing that she can think of in that moment, and then regrets it immediately.

“I want to be friends, Rooster.”

And there’s so much more that she could say to him. I want to be friends to get to know you. I want to be friends before I scare you off. I want to be friends before we get in too deep. But the right words fizzle and fade before she can voice them.

Rooster walks her out to her car. He hasn’t said anything in the wake of her admission, and she wonders if she's already fucked everything up. But then he simply tells her, “I’ll take what I can get, Scout. Frankie and I aren’t going anywhere.”

And despite everything, she believes him.

[evilyr]

tag   drop .

[taliswift-blog]

tags !

[taylorali-blog]

i haven’t written an intro in like...900 years, so bear with me

about the mun :

hello hello new friends, i’m red, i’m 21, i use she/her pronouns ! the only fun fact i can think of is that last year when i went to the reputation tour and we were heading down to our hotel lobby to pick up our postmates, i found myself in the elevator with taylor’s dancers. it was very, Very awkward. i’m also kinda awkward, but i promise that i don’t bite & that i just wanna love on all of you and your babies ! give me all the connections, all the plots, all the things. i’m super stoked to start writing with y’all 

about the muse :

TAYLOR SWIFT has just arrived in hollywood and the TWENTY-NINE year old SINGER is already causing a stir! the CISFEMALE was seen leaving lax in a hurry, but not before the paparazzi could snap a few stunning photos ! from the looks of it, SHE/HER is going to be the new talk of the town. 

i’ve been playing taylor on and off for too long of a time, tbh — the fun of bringing her into a new group is that i get to kinda reinvent her and i never try to play the same taylor twice which is sksksks fun ! the only thing that stays the same across the board is that my taylor lives by the quote “be like a snake: be nice to people until they step on you”

sagittarius, slytherin, esfj

taylor’s bisexual, she’s not openly out to anyone beyond her immediate family and select friends and has no plans to come out any time soon. due to that, her public relationship history in the sake of this rp is very, very grey & i’m pretty much throwing it all to the wind until we accept said faces in the group & we have the chance to plot ! yeehaw creative liberties !

taylor is incredibly business-oriented; she doesn’t like to use the word calculating to describe her but there is an absolute method to her madness and she’s whip smart. she, for the most part, knows exactly what she is doing when she does it. as the years have gone by, she has strayed from the whimsical, carefree approach on life and everything she does is mapped out to a T. she’s iron-clad in her defenses and every move she makes has contingency plans for contingency plans. i think of it like this: her 1989 era was very rigid and impersonal after the release of the album. during the drama of 2016 taylor took her space and because she was out of the public eye, had to learn how to rework her life without such rigid structure. the reputation era was very blase and ‘i don’t give a fuck’ and the lover era is veering back into that commercial, "faces on, people !!” tone — because of all this, she can sometimes come across as cold and detached to the reality around her ? she’s in tune with the world but sometimes she doesn’t get that she has to switch the lens of ‘this is a business move’ into like, real life

*off key* truuuuUUUST issUUUUUES ! she’s super fucking guarded. she makes it seem like she lets people in very easily but that’s not necessarily the case, she’s just very good at making people feel accepted and included

forgiveness is easier said than done with her. she’ll say that she forgives you but her actions will scream “hi i’m holding a grudge”

if you have taylor in your corner, you have her there for the long run, period. the only time she willingly walks away is if she feels unwelcome or disagrees with something that’s been done/said (most usually towards her lmao)

i know labels died in like, 2015, but one of my favorites that i’d use to sum my t up in one word is cosmogyral —  the definition of the word cosmogyral is ‘whirling around the universe.’ she’s never content with stagnancy, she likes to constantly be thinking and doing and moving and striving to be all the things, essentially. taylor’s a very strategic, take no prisoners kinda girl; she’s also a huge dreamer with a big heart that often gets shadowed by all her steel that she keeps up. she tends to live in her head quite a bit, which comes at its costs. the big part that i usually read into with the cosmogyral is that they are incredibly volatile, they’re easy to flip or turn in their moods and are pretty fickle. taylor is the type of person who will change her mind a lot about something and she’ll be hella stubborn about it every time as if she didn’t feel some other type of way five minutes ago

positive traits include: sage, silver-tongued, fastidious, idealistic, intrepid, driven, hopeless romantic, affectionate, fervid, convival, generally a cinnamon roll (unless u invoke the Sin)

negative traits include: convoluted, self-isolating, sybaritic, clinical, somewhat neurotic, opinionated, lives with her finger on the trigger, vindictive, still sometimes kinda naive

i try not to write taylor as a caricature of herself ? because sometimes i feel like people do ? where the muse takes me is where the muse takes me and i probably won’t have a single explanation for it so this is me apologizing in advance !

anyways, i’ll shut up here ( otherwise i will go on forEVER ) so i can go grab a quick bite for dinner and then dedicate my evening to loving up your starters and babies ic & ooc ! ik it can sometimes be intimidating to message a whole ass stranger but if you wanna plot or just talk ooc, give this actual novella a like and as if by magic, i shall appear in your ims for all the things ! like i said above, i’m really excited to write with everyone and AHHHH I CAN’T WAIT love y’all already x

[lavenderdreams22]

Impossible - Fenrys x Reader

Request: Omg! The fic with Fenrys is so good! Can you write another one? Like they have an argument?

A/N: I hope this is what you were looking for, anon! There really aren’t any warnings… maybe some OOC moments for some characters, some suggestive themes? I haven’t finished Kingdom of Ash yet, so if some details are wrong, sorry!! Also, very quickly edited.

*****

The beach. You had always loved the beach. But today, the sight of the waves crashing against the shore brought a sour taste to your mouth.

Fenrys had been gone for about a week on a mission assigned to him by Aelin. You were glad that he had been given something to do. He was becoming restless, and you feared that he may tear the walls of your shared home apart if he was left to his own devices for much longer.

No, him leaving wasn’t what had made you so upset with him… It was his return. He had gone directly to Aelin to give his report, which was to be expected, but then he had disappeared. You had searched for him, hoping to say hello and spend a few moments with him before you, yourself, had to leave for a week.

The beach was the last place you could think of to check, and he wasn’t here.

You threw your arms up as a particularly nasty wave crashed against the distant rocks. Even the North Sea seemed to be taunting you.

Turning on your heel, you stomped back towards your horse.

“Fine…” you mumbled to yourself. “If he doesn’t want to see me, then he won’t.”

*****

You found Elide waiting with Lorcan and the wagon that the three of you would be taking on your travels.

“Surprised lover boy isn’t joining you.” Lorcan spoke, drawing you from your thoughts.

“No idea where he is.” You shrugged, climbing in and turning to offer Elide your hand. “Let’s go before we lose anymore daylight.”

“You don’t want to say goodbye?” Elide asked, accepting the hand you offered to help her up.

“He didn’t bother saying hello.” You shrugged. “So, he doesn’t get a goodbye.”

Lorcan snorted and rounded the wagon to take his own seat. The two of you got settled as he took over the reigns. With a nod from Elide, the three of you were off.

“Are you okay?” Elide asked, patting your knee.

“I have never been better.” You plastered a fake grin on your lips that you hoped was convincing.

The look she shot you said that it was exactly the opposite.

*****

Dorian’s castle hadn’t changed since the last time you had been here. Chaol greeted you at the door, a warm smile on his lips as he pulled you into a hug. You searched around for Yrene, but he shook his head.

“She’s tending to the baby.” Chaol could barely contain his excitement.

“I will have to visit before we leave.” You said into his shoulder.

“Yes, you will. Yrene will have your head if you don’t.” He released you and you nodded. “Dorian is in the throne room.”

You patted his shoulder in thanks as you passed.

The greetings shared between the other two and Chaol were muffled as you rounded the corner. The double doors that led to the throne room had been left wide open, and Dorian sat atop his throne, examining his nails.

You cleared your throat as you entered, and his head snapped up. The grin that pulled at his lips was contagious, and, before you could stop it, you were grinning back.

“Hello, Y/N.” He strode to you in a few steps and pulled you into a bone crushing hug.

“Hello, your majesty.” You made to bow, but he laughed, pulling you back up by the arm.

“Seems we have much to discuss, old friend.” Dorian gestured towards the door behind you. “Shall we?”

*****

The time spent with Dorian was short lived, and you found yourself dreading the ride home.

You knew once you arrived in Terrasen, Fenrys would be there. He would demand why you hadn’t said goodbye, and there would surely be an argument.

“You seemed pretty sure of your decision to leave without saying goodbye a week ago.” Lorcan said, snapping the reigns.

The horses moved with a jolt, and you reached out an arm to steady Elide. You weren’t sure how Lorcan always seemed to know what you were thinking.

“I was.” You responded, “but now I’m not so sure it was the right choice.”

*****

Dawn had just broken when the three of you arrived. The wheels and hooves seemed to echo in the quiet streets of Terrasen, and you groaned.

“Can’t we just walk the rest of the way? We’re surely waking up every living thing from here to Eyllwe.” You said, crossing your arms over your chest.

“What do you suggest I do? Leave the horses in the middle of town?” Lorcan snapped.

You rolled your eyes, and Elide giggled at the two of you. You and Lorcan always fought, though neither of you wished bad on the other.

“We will be there soon.” She said with a shake of her head. “Then you two can get a good nights rest.”

You knew he’d hear you, that he had been waiting for the sound of hooves on stone. You could practically feel his anger down your mating bond. With a shudder, you wrapped your arms around yourself.

*****

You had been right, not that you had doubted yourself. As you pulled into the gates of Aelin’s home, you caught glimpse of a white wolf sitting in the courtyard. Your heart dropped at the sight of him.

Elise reached over, giving your leg a quick squeeze and Lorcan brought the wagon to a stop.

“Good luck, Y/N.” Elide said as she stood. “Looks like you’re going to need it.” She glanced over your shoulder and you didn’t need to turn around to know who she was looking at.

Lorcan helped Elide onto the ground, and the two of them made quick work of getting inside.

You huffed out a breath, trying to reign in your heartbeat. Fenrys was glaring holes through the back of your head.

“A simple ‘welcome home’ would suffice.” You said, finally standing and climbing out of the wagon. He was at your side in seconds.

“A simple ‘goodbye’ would have been better.” He growled, helping you to the ground.

The second your feet touched stone, you pulled out of his grasp. Hurt flashed in his eyes before he trained his face into something impassive.

“Would have said goodbye if I had been able to find you.” You mumbled.

He took a step towards you, but you stepped away from him again.

“I didn’t even know you were leaving. I had to find out from Aedion. Aelin wouldn’t even tell me where you went off to.”

“Aelin has some sense, then.” You rolled your eyes before setting off towards you home.

“Did you have fun with Dorian?” He spat, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh yeah. Loads of fun.” You pushed past him to start the short journey to your home. “Really wore me out.”

He let out a low growl. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Fenrys had an awful jealous streak, and for a moment, you felt guilty at the implication that you had made. But you steeled your nerves before you turned back to him.

“Where were you?” You couldn’t keep your voice from cracking.

He only stared at you, his brows furrowed.

“I looked everywhere. I even went to the beach.” You shook your head.

“You obviously didn’t look hard enough.”

Your lips parted in surprise at his response. You and Fenrys never fought. It was rare that the two of you even got mad at each other. As passionate and intense as you both were, you were also soft and gentle with each other. Your tempers were normally reserved for other people or training.

“I’m going to bed.” You turned on your heel again, “find somewhere else to stay for a few days.”

He didn’t follow, and you struggled to keep the tears from falling as you ran the rest of the way home.

*****

It had been five days. Five days for you to think, think again and then over think the interaction that got you to this point.

You knew you had been too sensitive, and that you had overreacted, but your pride wouldn’t let you admit it to Fenrys. Even if he was gazing at you across the training ring with regret and longing.

As upset as he had been, he had honored your wishes for him to stay away for awhile. You had run into each other a few times in the past few days, and you had a hunch that Aelin and Rowan were doing all they could to force the two of you into the same room.

“Y/N, Fenrys.” Aedion called out, “Aelin would like an audience with you.”

You nodded, setting the wooden sword you had been practicing with to the side and nodding at Gavriel. He offered a small smile and turned to Lorcan to continue his training.

Fenrys hesitated for a moment, his eyes never leaving your retreating form as you crossed the room towards Aedion.

“Are you coming?” You asked, stopping by the door, finally meeting his gaze over your shoulder.

“Oh.” He scrambled to catch up with you. “Yeah, I’m coming.”

*****

When you got to the throne room, the two of you stopped as he knocked.

“Do you have any idea what she wants?” You asked, leaning a shoulder against the wall as you waited for permission to enter.

“No idea.” He shook his head.

“Hmm.” Was your only response.

You examined him. He looked tired, as if he hadn’t been sleeping. The thought of his restless nights tugged at your heart, but you quickly shook the thought from your mind. You were mad at him, you reminded yourself.

“How are you?” He asked, avoiding your eyes.

“I’m great. You?”

He cleared his throat, and you knew him well enough to know that he was struggling to form an answer that didn’t sound what he thought was absolutely pathetic. You hoped he would tell you he missed you.

He settled on, “I’ve been better.”

Before you could respond, Rowan opened the door, beckoning the two of you into the room.

“Hello, Rowan.” You greeted as you stepped past him.

Aelin sat atop her throne, watching as the two of you with a blank expression. It made your hands sweat.

“Good morning.” She said, her queen voice coming out in full force.

“Good morning, your majesty.” You said, and Fenrys bowed.

Aelin chuckled and motioned for you two to come closer.

“I have a task for the two of you.” Aelin started. “You leave as soon as you can pack a bag.”

You both froze. “What will we be doing?” He asked.

“There seems to be some unease near the mountains. Something about bandits attacking travelers. I need the two of you to take care of it.” Rowan nodded as he joined her, standing behind her throne.

“Just the two of us?” You asked.

“Will that be a problem?” Rowan asked, irritation lacing his voice.

“No, of course not.” You shook your head.

“We have a horse waiting in the stables for you,” Aelin said, “You’re free to go. I expect to hear that you’ve left within the next twenty minutes.”

You both nodded before turning to leave.

“I need to come by for some of my things.” He murmured.

“I expected as much.” You replied, shutting the door to the throne room behind you.

*****

An hour later, the two of you were atop the horse, and several miles from the city. The ride so far had been dreadfully quiet. Having him pressed up against you like this was making it harder to be angry with him.

You adjusted yourself in the saddle, and he chuckled behind you.

“You’re going to be in for a rough trip if you’re already uncomfortable.” He said, his breath fanning over the back of your neck.

“The saddle isn’t the problem.” You snapped back.

“I stand by my sentiment.” He tightened his hold on you.

“They only gave us one horse on purpose.” You pouted. You were aware you sounded like a child, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“Most likely. They’re getting sick of having me in the castle.”

“You’ve been staying at the castle?”

“I have.” He cleared his throat, “not quite the same as our bed, but I suppose it could be worse.”

You nodded, leaning back into him ever so slightly. You missed the way his arms felt around you.

“All you have to do is ask me to come back.” He whispered.

“Maybe I don’t want you to come back.” You said, but he only chuckled. The sound rattled around in your head. 

“Your body says otherwise, my love.”

You shook your head, moving as far away from him as you could when you were sharing a saddle. “Knock it off. I’m still mad at you.”

*****

That evening, the two of you stopped to set up camp. The rest of the ride had been silent, and you were growing more and more agitated as time went on. He seemed perfectly content and happy to sit in silence, though, and that made you even more upset.

“Would you mind helping to set up camp? Or would you rather glare at me for the rest of the night?” He asked, his back still facing you.

You didn’t answer, and after a few heartbeats, he sighed.

“We should talk,” he said.

“Why? You seem perfectly happy acting as though nothing has happened.”

“Y/N…” he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Where were you?” You asked, “the day you came back… after you reported to Aelin. Where were you?”

“I was with Aedion. Ironically enough, he and Lysandra got into a spat, and he needed an ear and a shoulder.” He shrugged. “I didn’t know you were leaving until he asked me if I was going to say goodbye to you.”

“I looked everywhere for you.” You said.

“I was still in the castle.” He said, “and by the time I came to find you, you were gone.”

“I’m sorry I left without saying goodbye.” You whispered.

“And I’m sorry I didn’t come find you sooner.” He said, taking a step closer to you.

“And I’m sorry for cursing your existence on our favorite beach.” You grinned at him as he belted out a laugh.

His laugh. It was like music to your ears. It was something that you missed dearly, and now you were so grateful that you got to hear it again. The brief chuckles on the horse were nothing compared to this.

“C’mere, my love.” He opened his arms.

You flung your arms around him and pressed a kiss to his lips. He pulled you as close as he could, and kissed you back.

When he pulled away, humor was dancing in his eyes. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“But you love me anyway.” You replied, pressing another kiss to his lips.

“You’re right. I do love you anyway.” His answering grin made a blush creep to your cheeks.

“So...” you started, glancing once at his lips. “What should we do to make up for the last three weeks apart?”

“I can think of a few things.” He pressed another kiss to your lips.

You swore to yourself that you would never spend that much time away from him again.

[vermillionmars]

YOU CAN'T HIDE — !!

yandere! funtime freddy x reader

cw/tw ; yandere, sadism, blood, strangulation, cutting skin idk, ooc ( ? ), manipulation ( ? )

a/n ; i have had this in my head for a week...please don't judge me...also this is rly bad ik, i just had to get it out of my system before i exploded / lost all interest and motivation to write lol, i can't write bloody scenes v well sadly. also baby is probably ooc idk im not going to rewatch sl gameplay for this lol

“ — YOU CAN RUN, YOU CAN'T HIDE ! ”

❝ Bring you down here, in the dead of night. Keep you working, try to survive. We are secretly watching you, too. Trying our best to get at you. Run. ❞

Steady your breathing. Keep calm, don't make a sound. Hide yourself from his view, make sure you're invisible. Don't let him know where you are, don't let him find you. These were all things you told yourself, over and over again. They were meant to reassure yourself, to provide yourself some momentary comfort.

They worked, but only for a few minutes. Because just as soon as you'd convinced yourself you were safe, you heard that familiar, glitchy voice. Funtime Freddy was broken, in desperate need of repairs, but no one really stepped up to fix him. It wasn't that it was an impossible task—anyone with experience could repair him in a jiffy—it was that most people were scared of him. And rightfully so, considering you cowered in fear from simply hearing his footsteps.

You were naive to think you would be different from previous mechanics. It's just a robot, you told yourself. You can do this. But you, quite clearly, couldn't. The night started off well. You did as the Handunit told you, performing your duties like a good employee. But then came the task of fixing Freddy. The Handunit was of no help to you right now, it was ominously silent, like it had no clue what you were intended to do, or it hadn't noticed anything went wrong.

Or maybe it simply didn't care. Maybe it expected you to fend for yourself. You were the one who took the job offer, after all. You were responsible for your own actions and if you put yourself at risk of getting murdered by some children's animatronic, then the company wasn't responsible whatsoever. Circus Baby's Pizza World was, under no means, responsible for any injuries caused to you, regardless of whether or not those injuries came from their animatronics.

So you were hopeless, pretty much.

❝ You can run, you can't hide. We'll always seek, we'll always find. You can run, but you can't hide. We'll always seek, we'll always find. ❞

Oh, but you couldn't be blamed for being frightened by the large robot. Whose bright idea was it to make these things six feet tall? And not to mention the faceplates that opened up to reveal their freaky endoskeletons...Jesus, wasn't this enough to give kids nightmares?

Maybe the animatronics weren't so scary in the daylight. But in the dead of night, deep underground, they (specifically Funtime Freddy) shook you to your core. Maybe you were just a coward.

But you weren't willing to quit this job because of your cowardice. You had to survive this, to make it through the week. Then you could collect your paycheck and leave. You could go home, watch that trashy soap opera that kept playing on your T.V. seemingly on loop, and never think of this place again.

No Circus Baby, no Ballora, no Funtime Foxy, no Funtime Freddy. Just you, The Immortal and the Restless, and your lovely bowl of popcorn. It was just a few more nights, in the grand scheme of things. It might've seemed like longer to you, but it really wasn't that bad!

A loud, metallic clank changed your tune quickly. You took it back, this was horrible. You couldn't go another night stuck with these robots.

❝ You can run, you can try. You can run, but you can't hide. You can run, you can try. You can run, but you can't hide. ❞

You tried to think of happy things. Your paycheck, your compensation for surviving this job. Your friends, the ones who had been worried sick when you told them you'd be working here. Your parents, who urged you not to take the job at the place with a history of child murder. Your—

It was no use. No matter what you tried to get your brain to focus on, all it could think of was the situation you were currently in. It was either that or flashbacks to moments prior to this, and you honestly couldn't tell which was worse.

What led up to this...oh yeah, your job to fix Funtime Freddy. In all your hiding from him, you had almost forgotten that was why he was seeking you out. It was part of your job to repair him, and you had come here with every intention to do so.

He was supposed to be powered down. The Handunit told you so. He wasn't. He was faking it, you could tell. But you couldn't do anything about it, so with shaking hands you began pressing against the small buttons on his face. There wasn't much movement at first, a slight twitch here and there as you poked and prodded.

When his faceplates successfully opened, however, he quit his deactivated act. You screamed embarrassingly loudly when he jumped at you. Scrambling around the room, you gripped onto any surface you could find to steady yourself.

From there, your night quickly deescalated into madness. It was an endless cycle of squeezing yourself into crevices and tight spots and then changing your spot as soon as you heard the robotic bear, and the both of you were growing weary of it. You were tired, exhausted from all the running and hiding. Funtime Freddy was...well, you couldn't know his emotions (if he had any) because you weren't him, but you could guess he was growing more and more agitated.

You held your breath as you heard him make another step.

❝ They're laughing while finding. I'm hiding, I'm trying. I feel like she's lying, I feel like I'm dying. She's guiding me quietly, instructing me blindly, afraid of what might be. I feel like I'm dying. Hide. ❞

"You seem to be in quite the predicament."

A voice resonated through your mind. You recognized it, of course. It belonged to Circus Baby, the ringleader of this animatronic circus. She had spoken to you on your first night, but hadn't said anything else after that. You weren't quite sure how she was talking to you, because she wasn't present in the room or anywhere close, and Freddy didn't seem to hear her. Though, you weren't going to question it.

"Don't worry, I'm here to help you."

You didn't believe her, but what other choice did you have? You nodded, unsure if she could see your motions or not. She appeared to be able to, oddly, as she replied quickly after.

"Good. All you have to do is listen to me, and you should be safe." You caught onto the ‘should’ rather fast.

'Should?' You parroted back. She hummed softly, clearly not as concerned as you were.

"Yes, should," she paused. "I’d like to believe I have a good grasp on the mindsets and thought processes of my coworkers, however, I cannot guarantee your safety. Funtime Freddy is unpredictable at times—he is erratic and acts on his emotions. So, I can only hypothesize the best possible outcome and how to get there. If you’re worried by my uncertainty, you’re free to go about this your own way, I will not stop you. Just don’t blame me when your organs are rearranged."

She said all of that so calmly, it unnerved you. Regardless, you accepted her offer. 'Why do you even want to help me?' You asked in your head.

"It’s really none of your business. If you wish to know, however, I need you. Not you specifically, of course, anyone would do, really—so if you die, it’s not that big of a loss. I would just prefer not having to wait for the next unfortunate soul to make their way down here."

You were too confused to ask anything else, which Baby seemed pleased about. A bang startled you into remembering Funtime Freddy was still here. "Relax," Baby began. "Do you see Bon-Bon?"

If your memory was correct, Bon-Bon was the puppet attached to Freddy.

"You're correct. The bunny has a mind of its own. He and Freddy are...friends, I suppose. It is perhaps the only thing that can calm him down. So, use it to your advantage. If you can convince it to help you without alerting Freddy—don't ask, I don't know how to accomplish that either—or can convince it you already left the room, you'll be safe. Freddy will listen."

You gulped. Okay, so planning time…Baby's idea was far too risky, you deemed. You couldn't get to Bon-Bon without getting to Funtime Freddy, so that was off the table. You needed something else…You glanced at the door briefly. There was little chance you could open the door without being followed, but…maybe that’s what you wanted.

❝ I hear a sound… (It's prolly just a mouse!) I see them in the dark... (I only saw a spark!) I know there's someone there… (Not as far as I'm aware!) Why don't you believe me? ❞

You zipped across the room. As you were no longer being sneaky, Freddy’s eye caught sight of your form instantly. He laughed to his puppet pal.

"You saw that, r-ri-right, Bon-Bon?"

The little rabbit placed a plush hand against his cheek. He looked contemplative, as if determining whether what he saw was a human or something else. "It’s probably just a mouse, Freddy. You know how they are, and with the cold weather they’re probably desperate for warmth—"

"N-no, Bon-Bon, I swe-ea-r! They were here e-earlier to make repa-air-airs, I doubt they’ve l-l-eft yet!"

"Freddy, I think you should let it go. There’s always next time."

"There won’t b-be a next time-e, Bon-Bon!" Whether that was in reference to the coming end of the week (and therefore your job) or in reference to his plans on killing you, you weren’t sure. It could’ve very well been either, or even both. It was hard to tell with these freaks.

Nevertheless, his distraction allowed you to reach the door. You made sure to be as loud as possible as you twisted the doorknob. It opened with a long creak and the path to the Funtime Auditorium opened up. Freddy perked up at the sudden sound. You shuffled back to a hiding spot.

"Birthday k-kid!" It wasn’t your birthday, and you weren’t a kid either, but you had learned this was just a part of his programming. His feet stomped, shaking the floor and you. He chuckled, probably calling you ignorant and stupid in hushed whispers to his puppet. You could care less what he said about you.

❝ Maybe you're right… (It's just another night!) But I heard a creak… (Just go back to sleep!) I'm always quick to rage… (So go back to your stage! Wait...Now I hear it...) Run. ❞

"Making your own plan, are you?" Baby chided. "I thought I said to make use of the Bonnie puppet. But if this is your course of action, I suppose I can't stop you. Good luck…" What did she...mean by that?

Funtime Freddy made his way into the Funtime Auditorium slowly, torturously. You just wanted him gone already so you could lock him out of Parts and Services and you could stay in the room for the rest of the night. Finally, his feet came in contact with the flooring, and he was fully in the room.

You were quick to approach the door. You fumbled around and locked it, then paused. You breathed in deeply, then shut it with as much force as physically possible, slamming it and possibly partly breaking it off its hinges.

You could no longer hear Circus Baby. She wasn’t talking…why? Did that mean you were safe, if she was no longer guiding you? Or did it mean—

Cold, metallic hands (paws?) clamped down on your shoulders. They pressed into your skin through the polyester work uniform. Oh, so that was why.

❝ What's that sound? I know someone's there, hiding in the shadows, thinking I was unaware! Who's that I see? The birthday boy-to-be! Let's invite him over, hurry up before he's bolder! ❞

You were too scared to look him in the eyes. Freddy didn't mind. He just dug his hands further into you. Neither of you spoke, the silence was engulfing.

"Surprise! I fo-ound you," Freddy said, breaking the silence. It was odd to hear him speak directly to you—all this time, he had just been making comments to himself or calling out to you, as he wasn't close enough to get his hands on you and actually say anything. "Ch-ee-er up, birthday kid! We're your f-friend-s!"

You didn't reply. He made a noise that you interpreted as a scoff (it was hard to tell with his glitchy voice), and he lightly shook your shoulders. "Bi-i-irthday kid?"

He repeated his call, again and again. It would've been funny, if he weren't a giant hunk of metal fully capable of killing you. At your persistent lack of a reply, he shook you roughly back and forth.

"Freddy! They're clearly frightened, you should let them go now!" Bon-Bon, thankfully, caused Freddy to loosen his grip on you.

The bear frowned—well, as much as a robot can frown. "B-but Bon-Bon!" He let out a mechanical sigh, removing his hands from your shoulders.

You took a shaky breath. It was still rather dark in the room, you couldn't see either Bon-Bon or Funtime Freddy in their entirety. You only saw the outlines of their bodies. The door was still closed, locked. You had no clue how Freddy had even gotten in here (perhaps he slipped past your gaze and entered the room before you shut the door?), but you had no way of getting out. Not with Freddy right beside you.

Then, to get out, what did you need to do? You could just run, sprint to the door and scramble to unlock it. But Freddy would never let you get that far, he would hear and see you the moment you started moving.

Freddy suddenly moved, directing himself to the corner of the room. He sat down with a resounding thunk...right by the door. It was almost like he knew what you were thinking, and quickly wiped away any chance you had of succeeding.

❝ Oh Bon-Bon, let's make this fun! You can't deter me this time, no I'm done. I won't go back to my stage, it's my new trend. Well, let's go say hi to the new friend! ❞

"Sit with m-me, friend!" Freddy's tone was cheerful, friendly even. You didn't trust it, not one bit. "C'mon, it'll be f-fun!"

You reluctantly sat down next to him, longingly looking at the door. He reached for your waist, and pulled you closer to him. You started at the contact. It was sort of like a hug, except not very warm or enjoyable.

“Why were you run-n-ning, birthday kid? Why did you hide from m-me?” He sounded rather sad at first, but there was something more sinister behind his tone. "Are you scared?"

There were two answers to that last question, both of which were wrong in some aspect. If you said yes, he clearly wouldn’t be happy. Or maybe he’d be delighted, actually, reveling in your terror. You didn’t want to potentially give him that satisfaction, but if you said no, you’d be lying not only to him, but also to yourself. He would likely be able to tell your deception, too, seeing as you weren’t the greatest of liars.

"Yes…" you admitted nervously. Better to be truthful than risk upsetting him if he found out you lied, after all. "I’m sorry…" you weren’t, but Funtime Freddy accepted the answer regardless.

"It’s alright, fr-r-iend," he mumbled something that you couldn’t hear (despite the echo of his voice), then whispered to Bon-Bon. The puppet looked down towards his bow, not meeting either you or Freddy’s eyes. He gave a tiny nod, and covered his eyes with his hands, plush ears drooping down. "You made a mis-stake, but you just have to lea-r-rn better! I can help."

"Wha—" He didn't give you a chance to reply, because he suddenly dug his fingers into your neck. You gasped, rushing to soothe pain, however Freddy pressed against your skin harder. Harder and harder, he scraped your skin. In spite of his dull, hardly sharp fingers, he somehow drew blood—it trailed down from your neck slowly.

❝ I knew I was right to think I would find you over here. Well isn't it intriguing that you seem to be just a little bit weary of Bon-Bon and me. Well there's no need… ❞

He smiled wickedly, eyes conveying the same, twisted emotion. He moved his thumb to your neck, wiping the blood onto it. He was all too passive about having his thumb stained red, eyeing the smudge like it was natural. Like he had seen the sight far too many times, and had grown desensitized to it.

"S-see? Was that so ba-ad?" It wasn't the worst of injuries you'd ever had, you conceded, it was just the knowledge that he was fully capable of much more that made it so bad. There was nothing stopping him from biting your head clean off, or knocking you out with his microphone (that you had only now realized was discarded on the floor).

He could snap your legs in two or three or four or five parts if he so pleased. It wasn't that hard of a task—your bones were brittle and weak and pathetic, especially compared to a 350 pound animatronic. It was child's play to him, all he'd have to do is put his entire weight on you, and you'd be out like a light. That was, no doubt, the reason every other mechanic had quit...or maybe they hadn't exactly 'quit.'

"I sa-aid, 'was t-that so bad?""

"O-oh! N...no…" your voice came out as strained, hoarse.

"Good! Thank me. I helped you, like I said, right? You'll be better now..."

You shivered. It was the first time you'd heard him speak without a stuttery echo. It was threatening, foreign and weird. You vaguely wished he'd go back to glitching.

"Don't ignore me, now. Do you need...extra help? I can provide that, if you wish. Can't I, Bon-Bon?" Bon-Bon waved his paw in confirmation. "Do you want that, birthday kid?"

You were well aware it was a rhetorical question. Even if you answered, Freddy wouldn't listen to your protests. He would just continue without a care in the world. So, you kept your mouth shut.

"Bon-Bon, what do you think?"

"I-I think you should lay off the topic for now...you can discuss this with them later, y-you know! It doesn't have to be right now, it could be tomorrow, or, or next week even! I think they're tired—"

"I shouldn't have asked you," Funtime Freddy sighed. "I said it before, there won't be a next time. Because they'll—you'll—just collect your paycheck and leave as soon as you can, won't you? It always happens…time after time...I don't blame them, the previous workers. It's not their fault they couldn't handle getting a little messy."

He patted your head condescendingly. He ruffled your hair, messing up the hairdo you'd worked on for a solid ten minutes to perfect. Then, he yanked on a tuft, and pulled violently. You cried out at the harsh snatching action. "But you're different from them, aren't you, friend? You know how to have a fun time, don't you?"

You whimpered, rubbing the spot he ripped the hair out of. Shaking your head and casting your view to the tiled floor, you dreaded his response. You didn't think you were mentally or physically prepared for how he could respond.

"What's the pained look for? I'll just teach you. There's nothing to worry about, [Y/N]."

"You...know my name?" He had never called you by your name before. It was always 'birthday kid' or 'friend,' or the very rare 'pal' or 'buddy.' You had been convinced he didn't bother to learn your name, or anyone else's.

"Of course I do, silly," he pointed to your uniform, and the shiny name tag attached. "It says it right there!"

You felt stupid for forgetting about the name tag, but in your defense, the only time you saw it was when you got dressed before coming to work. "Oh…"

"Back to business…" his hands reached for your neck. Not again…This time, he wrapped both paws around you, and squeezed, twisting around the skin and making it fold in on itself. He treated your neck like a wet wash rag or a towel, hanging it out to dry and wringing it of any remaining water. "Let's have fun!"

You felt like you couldn't breathe, his grip firm and tight. Your chest felt constricted and tense, it was so, so painful. You let out rough, anguished coughs. Could he just get this over with already, and kill you? Crush your chest with his weight, slit your throat with some sharp object...anything was better than this.

Squeeze. Paws, frigid and solid clasped down again and again. He maneuvered rhythmically, gaining a vicious pleasure from your pants and coughs. Twist. Fingers, dug so deep they could surely feel the underlayer of skin, twirled bits and pieces of your neck together and overlapped them. He let go briefly, to watch your long, unsteady intake of air, before he pinched immediately after, and let go. Agonized sounds tumbled from your lips, yelps and groans and screams.

All of your features communicated torment and terror. You hadn't processed it at first, too caught up in the moment, but there were salty, wet tears streaming down your face. You were sniffling, too, snotty-nosed and pitiful. But hey, at least you got a second to breathe, right?

Freddy gave one final, malicious wring of your neck, before he relaxed. He scanned your body, noting the cut from earlier and the dripping blood, the newly formed marks across your neck, and the tears. He chuckled airily, turning towards his bunny pal. Bon-Bon had his eyes covered and ear drooped down again, like when Freddy had made the cut against your skin.

"Yo-ou can open your eyes now, Bon-Bon. There's not-othing scary anymore…" Bon-Bon reluctantly did so, though he closed them as soon as he saw your miserable appearance.

"Freddy! Don't you think that's a little too...harsh?"

"Don't be su-uch a nag, Bon! They're abs-so-lutely fine. Just a little rough-oughed up."

❝ We know you want to deactivate us, but we just can't let that happen. Every night always, it never changes. But we can make accidents happen. ❞

Bon-Bon glared as best he could at his friend, and detached himself from his arm. He jumped down, falling flat on his face. He picked himself up, and started crawling, considering he didn't have legs.

He made his way over to you, which wasn't very far. He was slow, though, so despite the close proximity, it took him a good few seconds. He reached you, and jumped (somehow) onto your thigh.

He pressed a soft paw on your jeans, and stared innocently up at you. He offered one of his hands to you, and you slowly took it. He giggled softly.

"I'm sorry about Freddy! He's a little mean, I know…" 'A little' was an understatement. "I know you probably can't forgive him—I-I wouldn't either! But I'm not like him, I promise!" His already high-pitched voice raised a few octaves.

"So we can be friends, right? If," he started whispering now. "If you're friends with me, then Freddy might be less cruel...an-and I want to help!"

Funtime Freddy watched the both of you closely, curiously. He couldn't hear Bon-Bon's words now, because he was purely speaking in low, hushed tones. The puppet tugged at your finger and gestured for you to move him closer to your face. You did as he wanted, and he wiped your tears away. "You'll let me help, won't you?"

❝ We can make accidents happen, we can make accidents happen. We can make accidents happen, we can make accidents happen! ❞

You nodded—what else was there? Let Bon-Bon crawl back to Freddy and cry that you rejected his friendship? He'd strangle you again, or worse. Bon-Bon's eyes shined happily, and he jumped back to his companion.

"Wha-at did you talk ab-out, Bon-Bon?"

"Oh, nothing! I was just discussing something with my friend~!"

"Your friend?" Freddy peered at you intently. "The-them?"

"Of course, silly! Who else?"

"O-oh, Bon-Bon, that's great! You should've told me you were fr-riends with the birthday kid s-sooner! We could've had a party-y…"

"Aw, I'm sorry Freddy! We can always schedule that for some other time. I'm sure my—our—friend won't mind!" You would mind, in fact, but Bon-Bon was currently keeping you from dying, so you wouldn't complain.

"You wo-won't mind, wi-i-ill you?"

"Haha...nope, I won't mind a-at all…!"

"How fun! Whe-en should we ma-ake reservations, frie-end?"

"I—I get to pick…?"

"Of co-ourse! It's yo-our party, isn't it? I would hate-e to ruin your party plan-nning fun…"

"Ah...alright...then, how about...tomorrow?" You hoped that was a suitable reply.

Thankfully, it was, because Freddy perked up and clapped his hand with one of Bon-Bon's. "See-ee you tomorrow, [Y/N]. Don't keep us wai-iting…" He then unlocked the door (of course, he struggled to, with his big hands) and opened it.

You thanked him halfheartedly, and rushed out of the door. You slammed it shut, and sighed in relief. You were free to go now...so you did, running as fast as your feet could take you. You were going home after what felt like an eternity stuck here…

You'd have to come back the next day though, right? You told the rabbit and the bear that you would, and while you didn't particularly care if either of them got their feelings hurt, you also needed your paycheck. If Freddy believed all three of you were pals now, maybe he'd be softer?

Before you could leave the pizzeria in its entirety, you heard a voice in your mind. Baby.

"So, you survived…?" She sounded vaguely surprised. You understood why. "And...you're coming back, are you? Do you wish for pain? Or are you truly that desperate for your paycheck?"

You said nothing. "Nonetheless, I applaud you. Though, you certainly aren't the prettiest sight at the moment…"

'That wasn't my fault…'

"I'm aware. I warned you, so I can't feel all that bad about your current state...still, you should rest and patch yourself up. I suppose I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight."

You wished Baby a goodnight in return. Finally out of the place, you found your car and hopped. You sped off, not looking back once.

Your house was peaceful, as was your state of mind. You weren't dead, just damaged emotionally and physically. But that was fine. It was nothing a little T.V. couldn't fix. You snuggled under a warm blanket and prepared yourself some popcorn. That same soap opera was on again...it was very clearly the vampire's baby, why didn't he understand that?

Yelling at the characters for their stupidity, you shoved another piece of popcorn into your mouth. You felt bad for Clara. Vlad was an idiot.

[audreysmusings]

your friend, ben | obi-wan kenobi

pt.I “rescued”

pairing: obi-wan kenobi x female!reader

part I

summary: obi-wan, now going by the name ben, rescues the reader after an encounter with pirates on tatooine. they both have a shared past, but covers to keep while inhabiting the planet. will their pasts get in the way of a possible friendship?

setting: set between episode III & kenobi (2022)

word count: 2.9k (omg i did not think it was that long)

warning(s): unedited writing, canon typical violence, slightly ooc obi wan (i say this because i’ve never written him before), let me know if i need to add more

author’s note: hey everyone! i’ve not written for a while now, but after watching kenobi, i was sucked back in. that being said, i’m really not sure how well received this will be. i have a general plan for the direction of the series, but i’m not sure if it’ll be wanted. still, i’m posting because i cannot get enough of obi-wan & i hope i can do the character some justice with this. i didn’t want the reader to be related to the jedi & i do have a plan for her & some conflict we’ll see soon. all i’m saying is i’m getting megara & hercules vibes from the reader & obi-wan.

please let me know if you’d like to read more!

i hope you enjoy!

27 BBY, Tatooine

It was a dark night in the desert, the air was cool, and the lack of sun welcomed all sorts of creatures to reveal themselves. Night on Tatooine was anything but serene. The shadows held secrets, cruel intentions, and wicked characters allowed to come out of hiding and roam free. Daylight offered safety and security, the twilight offered no such comfort.

The nightlife of Tatooine made up for its ordinary and rural daytime habits. The land was lawless past sundown. With crime high, security low, and a lack of imperial interference, this was every criminals’ playing field. Obi-Wan lived far from the epicenter of the planet’s crime world, far from anything lived in really, but ever so often there were stragglers. Like tonight.

There was a group of three figures, a rodian, a droid, and a figure shrouded in armor. Pirates or bounty hunters, maybe a mix of both. The closer the group got, Obi-Wan realized there was a fourth figure. Shrouded in a cloak with their head hung low and binders around their wrists, a captive.

The group suddenly stopped, not close enough to his home for him to pick up on conversation, but not too far to be out of eyesight. The three pirates moved to form a line and face the bound captive, their weapons aimed. Whatever intentions this band had, they were not hiding it. He hesitated, not sure whether to turn the other way or help the clear victim in the situation. It could very well be a trap of some sort. Whoever these people were, they didn’t acknowledge his presence if they know of it.

As he slowly approached the group, hiding behind rock formations, their voices were more clear.

The cloaked figure, still bound, spoke with confidence, “You’re making a mistake, boys.”

Her voice had a slight drawl to it, but it was clear she wasn’t from Tatooine. She sounded regal, her tone matching that of the politicians Obi-Wan had been surrounded by in the days of the Republic. Something about it was familiar enough to set off a light in the back of his mind, but besides the borderline familiarity he felt upon hearing the voice, he set it aside.

The armored man snickered and the rodian retorted right back in his native language.

It’s you who is mistaken. If you don’t come with us, you’ll never make it through the night.

You spit at them in response and shook your hands once more, attempting to reset the binders on your wrists.

The man in armor took a step forward and kept his blaster aimed at your head, “We have two options here: you agree to come with us and we wait for your ransom to be paid by your boss, or we leave you here defenseless in the night and come back to find you dead or gone by sunrise.”

“That’s assuming my boss doesn’t know you’re the ones who took me. Which I’m sure he already does or will figure out given the lack of rapport among you criminals.” You retorted, nodding to the other pirates.

The man chuckled, “Not if we’re the ones who return you and lead the crusade to finding your killer.”

You snorted at that, “No one would believe it for a second. You’d be just as dead as me!”

He stepped closer and pressed the blaster right against your temple, “You’re not leaving me with many options, sweetheart.”

You kept your chin high and spoke lowly, “You do realize that if I were to go with you it would be clear who my kidnappers were when you jump ship and leave this planet. You’d be putting a price on your head even you could never balance out, Jorel.”

The man, Jorel, held your gaze and lowered his gun, “Then I guess we’ll just have to leave you here.”

Before he could turn around you kneed his stomach and kicked his blaster out of his hand. The droid and rodian immediately cocked their guns at you before you could do anything else. Jorel stood back up and was laughing.

“The golden girl has some fight in her. Jabba would be proud.” He sneered.

He dusted himself off before making his way towards you. You scowled at him as he approached your frozen figure, still restrained. He held your chin and spoke lowly, “I wish I could say I’ll miss you, but that’d be a lie.”

You turned your head sharply and refused to meet his eyes, choosing to look at the ground, “If you think there will be no consequences to this, you’re wrong.”

He snickered, “I don’t think you know enough about this to really understand you won’t live to see the consequences.”

You stayed silent. Jorel gave a small nod to the others and they started to move around and behind you. In a swift movement, he shoved your shoulders back. Unable to catch yourself due to your restraints, you landed on the coarse sand with a thud. The shove knocked the air out of you, causing you to gasp for breath and strain against the binders.

Jorel crouched down to whisper in your ear, “I know you know better than to make any noise in the night, but just in case…”

He trailed off and before you could think, much less say anything, you felt a swift, yet forceful hit to the base of your jaw. It knocked you out.

When you wake up, your head is pounding and your chest feels tight. You slowly open your eyes to an unfamiliar room and furrow your brows as you take in your surroundings. Your vision is blurry, but you can make out shapes and implied lines. It’s a small room, a pallet of light neutrals and brown. You’re laid out on a cot with a thin blanket strewn lazily across your form.

You try to sit up, but your body is screaming for you not to. You barely lift your head up before you give up with a groan.

“Ah, you’re up.” A cool voice calls out.

“Where am I?” You ask, voice hoarse.

A man is walking around and he comes back to your side and gazes down at you. Your eyes begin to focus when he gets closer and you take in his features.

Maker, you must be dreaming. It can’t be him.

“You’re safe. Away from those pirates and recovering well, all things considered.” He answers simply.

“Pirates?” You repeat, furrowing your brows.

The man nods and gestures over to a pair of binders that rest on a small table. A dull pain makes itself known along your jaw and the memories of Jorel and his gang start to flood your mind.

“Oh, no. This can’t be a dream then.” You mumble, more to yourself than the kind stranger who rescued you.

“A dream?” The man repeats.

You chuckle dryly, “I’d only see a face like yours in my dreams.”

Jorel had to have done more once you were knocked out, your body should not be this weak. You struggle to sit up and settle on resting your weight on your elbows before looking the man up and down.

Right height, same build, same features, same eyes. It was definitely him. You’re staring. Who wouldn’t be? But, before you can inspect him further, he’s left your side and rummaging around in a wooden chest.

“They must’ve hit your head pretty hard then, I’m afraid my face is far from what I’d hope anyone could dream of.” He calls out over his shoulder.

You shake your head lightly, “No, it’s not that. You look like someone I once knew.”

The man stills, his back to you.

“A friend.”

“I have no friends.” He announces finally.

You stay silent, not sure where to go from there. He makes his way back to you with a small, warm cloth in his hands. He hands it to you and you place it lightly under your jaw. You study his face once more, becoming more sure by the second that it was in fact Obi-Wan in front of you.

If he recognized you, he didn’t address it.

You weren’t sure if the former Jedi would even be able to recognize you now. The last time you saw him would have been in the glory days of the Republic. Before both of your lives had been dashed away like a small speck of stardust in an instant. You represented the last of a dying age, the strength of the senate before it was corrupted. The galaxy had been far from kind to you since the rise of the Emperor.

You could only assume Obi-Wan endured a worse fate, judging by the fact that he now lives in the farthest point of the galaxy from anything significant. The man in front of you was no longer a regal warrior. He was aged, tired, and most of all, his eyes practically drowned in sadness. His soft auburn hair was grown out above his shoulders and there were silver strands poking through. His face, still handsome, adorned some new lines and wrinkles. You noted that they seemed to enhance his features more than anything.

You wondered how long he’d been here. Surely someone as powerful as he would choose a better place to exile. You weren’t here by choice. No one was here by choice. Maybe he wasn’t either.

You hesitate before questioning him, “What might I call you?”

He looks into your eyes and you can see a hint of recognition behind them, but he does not play with the idea.

“You can call me Ben.”

You nod slowly, “Well thank you for rescuing me, Ben.”

He doesn’t reply, instead he sits down on a wooden stool next to your cot.

“So, who exactly did I rescue?” He asks carefully, staring straight ahead.

You frown, unsure if he’s playing a game, or if he truly doesn’t remember you.

You answer honestly, confirming Obi-Wan’s suspicions. He could not ignore it anymore or chalk up your appearance and mannerisms to a mere coincidence. But the last time he saw you, you were on Coruscant, a senator, not someone taken hostage on Tatooine of all places.

“I take it that you’re not from here, then?” Ben asks.

You shake your head, “I got here a few years back.”

‘Before you became a war criminal and I fell from the ranks of a leader to something as insignificant as a grain of sand on this planet’ stays on your tongue, better left unsaid.

“I haven’t wanted to go anywhere else since.”

The words feel bitter rolling off your tongue, their aftertaste leaving nothing but spite behind. The statement surprises Obi-Wan, he’d assumed you were on a mission of some sort, not an inhabitant of this planet.

He studies you, his eyes flicking from your own to your injuries.

“You should be fine once you get some rest. Nothing’s broken.”

You nod, “I’m grateful, Ben. I must admit I wasn’t sure what would become of me at one point.”

“You say that as if you deal with this sort of thing often.” He muses.

You chuckle lightly, “I’m afraid I do.”

His brows raise up at your admission, “You ought to be more careful, then.”

You shrug, “I always manage to get out unscathed.”

He snorts at that.

You turn and look at him with an amused expression, “Besides, I always have friendly desert hermits save me in the night.”

Obi-Wan lets out a small smile at that. You sit in what you could only call a sweet silence before he clears his throat.

“I suggest you stay the night, I know those pirates are not the only dangers out there this late.” He announces.

You raise your brows, feigning shock. “My, my, desert hermit! Maybe I was too quick to call you friendly.”

He rolls his eyes, “If you’d like to be at the disposal of sand people, be my guest.”

You pretend to consider it.

“Their intentions may be more pure than yours, Ben.” You retort with a sly smile, accentuating the drawl on his ‘name’.

Obi-Wan huffs out a breath of air before turning to you with an amused gaze, “Do you always try to seduce your rescuers?”

“Do you always let it go this far?” You counter.

His smile fades and turns into a slight frown, “As I told you, I have no friends. It’s rare I get a ‘hello there’ from a stranger, let alone a come on.”

His honesty baffled you, the Obi-Wan before had a sharp wit as his defense, this one just seemed to have blatant honesty. Maybe that was the difference between an Obi-Wan and a Ben. No show, no defenses, just honesty. Something the war could’ve benefitted from.

“Well, if you’d like, I could be your friend.” You offered, angling your body towards his.

Obi-Wan sighed, “I can’t imagine what you’d gain from being my friend. I’m a lonely desert hermit as you so eloquently put it.”

“I never said lonely.” You interjected.

“It was implied.”

You pursed your lips at his retort. Clearly, any semblance of the man’s pride from before was worn down. You had the desert to thank for that.

“I don’t know about you, Ben, but it’s not often I encounter a friendly face.”

Familiar as well, you thought.

You continue, “That in itself is something to gain from a friendship. Kind eyes in a less than kind world.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t agree more, but there was something keeping him from acknowledging the fact that you were no stranger to him. It was a strong feeling, tangible in the air around you, that this was not the time. He was sure you’d already recognized him, but he felt certainly that you’d both be more than happy not to open up wounds of the past so soon.

Plenty of time had passed and it changed him, he knew it had changed you as well. Though you seemed normal on the surface, he could sense a shift in your countenance. Something only true despair and loss can do to a person. Something he recognized on his own face every time he saw his reflection. Though your strong will had not died, something else had. There was less of a warmth around you, something that had enveloped and surrounded him in the past.

A part of him wondered again if this was a trap. He couldn’t imagine what could possibly bring someone like you to place like this. You deserved to be in far better conditions than this, he’d seen you thrive on Coruscant and light up a room with your aura. Something dark must have happened, he was sure of it. He did not question it was the Emperor’s doing, no one as bright as you could be left to their own devices. You’d be a constant threat to the Empire.

Breaking himself out of his thoughts, he looked to you once more, “I suppose you’re right.”

You smiled softly, “I usually am.”

“Although, if we are to be friends, I need at least a days notice for when you’re in need of rescuing.”

If only he knew.

“I’ll make sure to keep you informed then.” You told him, your smile not quite meeting your eyes.

He nodded in approval before you spoke again.

“If we are to be friends, my one condition is that I need you to know what you referred to as a ‘come on’ earlier was no such thing.” You stated matter of factly.

“Ah, my apologies then.” Obi-Wan replied.

“Believe me when I say you wouldn’t be able to handle it.” You continued.

“Because you know me so well.” He interjected.

You nodded firmly, “As I said before, desert hermits rescue me frequently and they happen to be my area of expertise.”

At that, Obi-Wan, or Ben, apparently, let out a hearty laugh. It was something you hadn’t expected, something he did not expect either. This was probably the first time he’d even conversed with someone not involving directions or orders.

It was dangerous, Obi-Wan thought. He shouldn’t let someone in after all these years, risk blowing his cover. Especially someone he knows, or rather, knew. He has no true familiarity with this version of you; the kind he rescues from pirates at night on Tatooine of all places. Although he’d been your security detail more than once in his days as a young knight, so this was really an example of what had been prevented by him in the past.

What puzzled him more was the fact that you lived here. Even more so the fact that you didn’t address him, or really, past him. Obi-Wan, not Ben. It seemed you were in some sort of hiding as well. From what, he did not know. Though if the friendship were to continue, a secret part of him hoped to find out. To be able to be honest with you. That being said, he wasn’t sure what this could even lead to. Everything in his mind told him not to engage, but he had to trust that the universe sent you to him for a reason.

It was not like Obi-Wan to think that way, but after so many years alone, it had started to wear him down more than he’d like to admit. It was foolish really, to think anything good could come from you reuniting. But, a companionship with you seemed too tempting to say no to.

He chose not to dig further into why.

By the time you had woken up, Obi-Wan was gone. The only sign you hadn’t imagined him taking you in was a note next to you when you woke up. It read:

Stay out of trouble.

Until next time.

Your friend, Ben

[oblivionumbra]

Yay! I'm so happy you are taking requests. Thanks for answering! ❤️ I was wondering if I could get a fic with Ellis from L4D where him and the reader (female) have a young daughter together named Nessarose? No smut involved, just really fluffy little family fic. Cute, and I want you to have fun with it! I'll enjoy anything you post. Thank you again, I appreciate you!!! 🌝🥺

I absolutely adore this! My heart!!!

Left 4 dead Ellis x Fem! Reader Parenting at it's finest

(A bit OOC for Ellis)

You felt a smile tug at your lips as you watched the door to your bedroom slowly opened. Your husband was still sound asleep beside you, loudly snoring unaware of the small figure that snuck into your room. However, you pretend not to notice the little one that miserably hid how quiet their steps were. It wasn't until said little one was within arms reach was when you made your move. Yanking the covers off you and your husband, you lunged off the bed and wrapped you and your daughter in a blanket cocoon. "COME HERE!" You yelled scaring the daylights out of your daughter. The loud screech that followed after, woke up your husband a thud telling you he fell out of bed. "Ellis, love are you alright?" A muffled. "Yeah!" Made you and your daughter laugh.

"I almost had it!" Nessarose exclaimed as you made breakfast. This made you softly chuckle as Ellis held an ice pack to his head. "Well, your steps were a bit loud sweetie." You say as you place the plates down. Ellis made exaggerated kungfu moves. "Yeah, you gotta be sneaky like a ninja." Shaking your head, you nod to Ellis. "Not to mention your father's snoring like a damn grizzly bear woke me up way before hand." To this he looks at you with an offended look, Nessarose loudly laughed. "I don't snore." You raised a brow and look over at your daughter who took your side. "Daddy, you snore really REALLY loud. Like shaking the house loud!" Ellis placed a hand over his heart and let out a gasp. "My own daughter goin against me! What has the world come to!" You rolled your eyes and softly laughed.

Just then your daughter smiled up at you. "Can you teach me how to be a ninja mom?" You shrugged before standing up with your plate. "If you wish to be a good ninja first you must do the most important thing to becoming a good ninja." She beams up at you waiting for you to finish the sentence. Ellis chuckles knowing where this is going. "All good ninjas go to school and get good grades." You laughed as Nessarose deflated in her chair. "But school is boring!" Ellis points his fork to her then to you. "Yeah but how do ya think me and your mom are awesome fighters in those stories we tell ya?" With a little huff she lowers her head. "If it means becoming the best ninja in the world-" Suddenly she jumps from her chair almost scaring you. "-then I will go to school to become the bestest ninja in the whole wide world!" You pumped your fist in the air. "That's the spirit! Now lets get going, don't wanna wait on the road to become the bestest ninja now do we?" She hopped down from her chair and took a hold of your hand. "Let's go!"

[eirist]

Little Bits and Pieces of Heaven

EVENING OF THE SEVENTH

One-shot #: 29

Disclaimer: One Piece (and its characters) belongs to Eiichiro Oda-sensei.

Reminder: I have no beta-reader. Any grammatical and spelling errors are solely mine.

Warning: OOC possible. One shot.

Rating: T

Note: For @bloodshot13​. You wanted a Japanese Festival. AU. So here it is. I must say it is an awesome suggestion and would be a pity if it’s only going to be a drabble. Besides the story itself wanted to be a bit longer so I yielded. Enjoy!

I used the Japanese Tanabata Festival for this hence the title. And for wordplay reason as well. I think this festival is a good choice of setting for these two’s not-so-perfect first date.

Summary: Not all first dates are perfect. And with Zoro and Nami… this shouldn’t come as a surprise at all.

“You’re late.”

A pout appeared on pinkish lips before a familiar I-knew-it-look appeared on Nami’s face as she stared him down.

Zoro scratched the back of his head. “It’s nothing new,” he retorted—a bit weakly though—trying to justify why he made her wait for him for a good fifteen minutes.

“I shouldn’t be surprised,” she deadpanned. “It’s a miracle you even made it here.”

Zoro glared at her for that comment.

Nami glared back… more viciously. “Zoro, this place is just a ten minute walk from your apartment! Fifteen from mine and I still got here before you!” She explained with a huff.

“I’m here now aren’t I?”

Nami regarded him with eyes promising excruciating pain solely for him.

“If this is your idea of dating a girl, you definitely suck Zoro.”

“Oi!”

It didn’t occur to the green-haired idiot that Nami hated standing alone at festival’s entrance, waiting for him to arrive. It didn’t helped that a lot of couples who passed by gave her lingering, wondering gazes before whispering to each other making her feel uncomfortable.

“Let’s just go,” Nami spun around to leave him still scratching his dumb head. “We’re wasting time.” She said it in a rather curt tone that made Zoro feel dread coiling inside his stomach.

Damn it! They barely made it past the festival entrance and Nami’s already mad at him.

It only took three strides for him to catch up to her as she entered the festival street. It was filled with people of all ages. Japanese lanterns hung overhead lighting the whole place, along with decorations made from colorful papers in different shapes. There were ornamental balls with their colorful streamers everywhere while stalls for food, games and other items for sell bordered both sides. Children ran around them, as their parents breathlessly tried to catch up, warning them that they might get lost.

“Oi Nami,” he called as the orange-haired girl pouted her way through the festival’s jam-packed and noisy street. “Come on. Wipe that sulky look off your face.”

“Hmph!”

“Fine!” He huffed, feeling his temper flare at her tantrum.

Nami tried to hurry away from him and Zoro rolled his eye as her effort was futile while wearing a yukata.

He followed her with a scoff as she continued making her way through crowd, ignoring the stalls around them. She was heading at the end of the street where a bridge leading to the temple was situated. It was lit up with the same lanterns that were hanging above them. Bamboo trees lined up its sides decorated with tanzaku in different colors.

“Nami.”

“What?!” She hissed barely glancing at him as she continued walking, her wooden sandals clicking angrily at every step.

“Why are you angry? I arrived here didn’t I?”

She stopped in front of a stall selling candy apples and chocolate bananas and stared at him in disbelief.

The idiot had forgotten that they agreed to meet an hour earlier than what their friends had set so they could enjoy the festival together without any interruptions.

Nami didn’t bother reminding him of that. What’s the use? Instead she just pressed some fingers to her temple to subdue the impending headache that is Zoro.

They still haven’t made it past ten minutes together and she’s ready to kick the living daylights out of his moronic ass.

“Ugh. I give up,” she groaned after a few seconds, shoulders slumping dejectedly.

“What now?” Zoro growled at her.

Nami lifted her eyes to glare at him again. This was supposed to be a sort-of-‘romantic’ evening between the two of them.

They finally agreed to try and move their relationship one step further a week ago… from long-time friends to lovers finally…

She thought that this festival is the perfect opportunity to test the waters for their first ‘date’.

Did she honestly she believed things are going to be easy with this man? Not when it looks like Zoro still has to grasp the concept of ‘dating’.

This will definitely take a lot of work. A damn LOT of work!

She let out an exasperated sigh and Zoro’s brows furrowed.

“Let’s just go hang wishes on those bamboos and wait for the others so we can enjoy this festival.” Nami mumbled as she turned away from him for the second time that night, practically giving up the thought that they can pull off anything akin to a date at this festival.

Zoro frowned at what she said. Wait for the others so they can enjoy tonight?

Her statement actually hit a spot.

Weren’t they were supposed to enjoy this together? Wasn’t that the plan?

He ran a hand along his hair in frustration and followed her silently.

This time Nami was not hurrying away from him. She strode ahead in a cool manner, head shifting left and right as she observed the stalls lining the street.

His frown deepened.

Ok, maybe it’s his mistake for being late. But it’s not his fault he kept ending up on the other side of the street from the where the festival is taking place! It was too crowded and the directions posted for its location were confusing.

He had circled the area thrice before he spotted Nami—looking really pretty in her mikan-patterned, light-green yukata with her hair up in a side bun and decorated with a bouquet-like kanzashi, its dangling beads swinging slightly from her movement.

There were curling wisps of her orange hair framing her face and it made him want to reach out and touch them just to feel their softness against his fingers.

Zoro clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, mentally chastising himself as he recalled the look on Nami’s face earlier as she peered in the crowd waiting for him to show up.

It dawned into him that he didn’t like that expression on her.

He reached out to grasped her hand in his, stopping Nami in her tracks.

“Hey… I’m sorry ok?”

Nami looked surprised with what he said. She looked down and blinked at their joined hands disbelievingly before shifting her eyes up at him.

Then she pursed her lips as if trying to stop herself from smiling at him.

“You’re an idiot Zoro.”

“Yeah, I know.”

This time she didn’t fight the smile that wanted to appear on her lips.

“I should’ve expected this,” she said with a roll of her eyes as she squeezed his hand that was still clasping hers. “Next time… I’ll just pick you up in your apartment to save us time.” She stared straight in his eye, daring him disagree with her.

“Fine.” He answered and Nami looked startled at how easily he agreed. “If it saves me from your pouts and sulking as we—OUCH!”

Nami deliberately stepped on his feet with her wooden sandal with a cheeky smile on her face.

“I’ll make you regret saying that.”

It was Zoro’s turn to groan.

She tugged at his hand, urging him to continue moving forward into a less crowded spot near the bridge.

“Honestly… I’m looking forward spending this time with you,” she admitted quietly as they stood near the stall that sells tanzaku.

“I know,” he nodded and gazed at her seriously. He reached out to touch the curling wisp of her hair with his fingers. He was right. It was soft. “Me too.”

This one hour spent alone with him is precious for her and it is the same for him. They are still at beginning of their relationship… their friends still doesn’t have any inkling about the change in their status yet.

Nami had the right to be pissed at him earlier because he just wasted some of what was supposedly their time together.

They smiled at each other before Nami gave the sleeve of his yukata a rather hard yank.

“Let’s go Zoro! We still have a lot to do before the others are here.” Her tone immediately turned domineering as she pulled him towards tanzaku stall. “We need to hang our wishes on those bamboos first!”

Zoro just snorted and she grinned back at him.

“And you still have to treat me with some yakitori and candy apples!”

“Hah? Why should I do that?!”

“This is a date Zoro! The guy usually shelves out the cash when you’re out on a date!”

“You witch! You’re just trying to get back at me for being late!”

Nami gave him her most dazzling smile.

“That too… And we still have to check all the stalls with those games. You promised me goldfishes remember?” She pointed at the stall for goldfish scooping.

“I have?”

“Yeah… you did…” Nami glowered at him. “You’re bragging about your scooping skills the other day. And we made a bet on how many you’ll really be able to catch.”

Zoro laughed. That they did. “Fine, I’ll catch you some alright?” He conceded and gave her a soft smile that made Nami melt on the spot.

He reached for her hand again as she lead them towards their first agenda for the night.

They still have half an hour to enjoy their date without their cheeky friends intruding. Well… if worst comes to worst… he and Nami can just sneak away from them to enjoy the fireworks and the rest of the festival together.

[nomazee]

Komorebi (6)

komorebi, final.

synopsis: Tsukishima dislikes the amount of parallels there are with you and Hinata. He dislikes the way you’re so energetic and exuberant when you want to be, and the way you can get along so well with people. He dislikes the way that people are naturally drawn to you, and the way you’re so willing to put time into your dumb gifts and snacks and treats for a team of boys you barely know. But Tsukishima does not dislike you. And he supposes that’s part of the problem.

series content: developing relationship, (sort of) ooc tsukishima, strangers to (sort of) friends to lovers, angst, fluff, slow burn

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six

(the final part!! i don’t wanna ramble too much for right now so all of my final thoughts will be at the end! 

love yall :) )

☾.:°∗★.:☆:.★∗°:.☽ 

Just like that, Tsukishima is back to square one. 

The world goes silent for a few days. He hates to admit that he’s losing sleep over you, but at this point he’s too far gone to care what anyone thinks about him. Except for you--and while he knows that assuming things is bad, he can only conclude by the way you looked so scared of him before, that you do not think he’s a good person. 

(The gifts you gave him nearly contradict that assumption. But he ignores those for the most part. The scarf you gave him a while ago rests on a chair in his room and more often than not he finds himself staring at it during the deep hours of the night. He hasn’t worn it yet.)

Yamaguchi keeps giving him glances during class--not that that’s any different from before, but it irks him more now that he’s actually seen you. The blonde wonders if his friend knew about you, knew that you were going to drop something off in that moment and just never thought to warn him. Maybe you two were plotting that together, like an odd sort of revenge tactic. 

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know a lot of things. What he does know is that he’s tired, and he misses you, and he wants to be warm again. 

The morning is cold when we wakes up. He wasn’t really sleeping--it was one of those nights of a daze of exhaustion where he kept blinking himself awake. At five-thirty AM, he sighs, staring at the blank, matte wall of his ceiling. Tsukishima wills himself to crawl out of his bed and get ready for school. It’s still dark outside, the flames of daylight creeping up on the horizon while he steps around his room. 

He’s ready to leave by six. His mother is awake, sitting in the kitchen sipping hot tea and scrolling through her cellphone. She catches a glimpse of her son walking through the front door--Tsukishima feels her pensive gaze on him but refuses to say anything, just like always. 

The air is cold. Despite the long-sleeved uniform he’s wearing, Tsukishima feels ill-prepared to face the day, in more than one way. Nevertheless, he lets go of his reluctance at the door and trudges onward in the frigid air, nose flushed with red and cheeks going numb in a matter of seconds. 

(The scarf is in his bag now rather than his desk chair, hidden beneath his books and folders and pencils. He wants to wear it, knows he should, but his guilty conscious tells him to leave it unworn for now.) 

The walk passes by quickly, far too quickly for his comfort. Before Tsukishima knows it, he’s faced with the front doors of the very school he dreads to enter. 

His fingers tingle with numbness as he pulls at the metal handles of the door. The school is quiet, empty for the most part. The faint shuffle of teachers in their classrooms echoes throughout the halls as his feet lead him to Class 1-4. 

There’s a faint pitter-patter of footsteps from inside the classroom. Tsukishima passes it off as one of his teachers, again, but the sight he’s met with when he walks through the doorway gives him a disturbing sense of deja vu. 

You’re there, at his desk--the same bracelet from a few days ago resting on top of a box that  you seem to have just placed on his desk. You blink up at him owlishly. He can only return the gesture, dumbstruck as he is. 

It’s too reminiscent of the events from a few days ago. Once again, his eyes are prickling with stinging pain and his throat dries up. 

He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what to do.

What does he know, he wonders. He knows he hates crying. It’s unfortunate that that’s the only thing he seems capable of doing. 

It’s all overwhelming for him. The cold of the outside lingering on his skin, the sheets of sunlight pouring through the window as the sun rises, your eyes, your sheer presence in front of him. It piles on his shoulder and soon he feels liquid heat pouring down his cheeks. 

Tsukishima Kei is crying. In front of you, in a classroom, watching you grip the box in your hands and stare at him, unmoving. 

His throat hurts. He tries to choke down any audible sobs, but loud, ugly sniffles echo throughout the room. He wants to fall through the floor, squeezes his eyes shut so he doesn’t have to look at you. He can’t bear to know that you find him pathetic, even more so than he already seemed in the last few weeks. 

Distantly, he recognizes the sound of footsteps coming closer to him but tunes them out in hopes that he’s just imagining them. A hand finds its way to his shoulder--it’s warm, and he flinches. He knows it’s yours, knows by the heat of it and the comfort he feels from a simple touch. It’s the first time he’s felt your touch, but he feels so light now--so warm and comfortable and cloudy. 

“Kei.” It’s your voice. It swims through the air and into his ears, sobs only increasing in severity at the sound of his first name on your lips. Your other hand comes to rest on his cheek, both sets of fingers gently brushing away the pouring stream. 

Fond. Tsukishima Kei is very fond of the feeling of your skin on his. He hopes he can become well-acquainted with it, if he tries hard enough. 

“Kei, it’s okay.” You’re so soft, voice low and lacking any hostility he expected you to have. Your thumbs pat at his under eyes, soaking up the wetness that pools. 

“Can you look at me?” He’s stubborn, hand coming up to grip your wrist and lips clamped tightly shut to reduce the shiver of his entire body as he weeps. A gentle shake of his head makes you sigh--he knows the way he’s acting is so uncharacteristic but he can’t help it. Not with the feel of your hands on his face, your voice, the sound of his first name spoken by you still ringing in his ears. 

“It’s okay. It’s alright. I’m here.” 

You are here. It seems impossible to him, but you’re here. With him. With your hands giving him warmth and comfort and fondness. Everything he ever wanted. 

His eyes blink open. Tsukishima Kei looks at you--really looks. Your lips are upturned, gentle as is the rest of you. The sun is halfway above the horizon now, the light from it filtering through the leaves of the trees that are planted outside the window. The golden rays hit your eyes perfectly, changing the hue the slightest bit and making him stop his tears momentarily--just to admire you. 

You blink at him. You smile. Tsukishima Kei is in love, just a little bit.

☾.:°∗★.:☆:.★∗°:.☽

(so... this has been a wild ride. 

first off i wanna say thank you for all the support i’ve received throughout this whole thing! it really means so much to me. i love you all so much. 

im very proud of myself for finishing this. this is by no means the greatest product i could’ve created--it was a little bit messy, and the word count of the entire series (ab 6000 i think) is lower than some long oneshots i’ve seen.

there’s a lot of things i could’ve done better--no doubt about that. but i am very proud of myself for making this. for finishing a WHOLE multipart series,,,,yes it was short but......its here! i did it! i’m finished! very happy with this. 

this series was mainly set in tsukishima’s own head--and i know it was probably at least a little disappointing that it was NOT action-based---and the fact that it was tsukki-centric was definitely a downer to some people because you didnt really get to feel what.... YOU would feel in that situation. we didnt get to see that here. 

and its okay if that’s what you disliked most!!! in truth i think that was one of my biggest weaknesses writing this series. but i liked it this way, i think. i like trying to analyze characters within my writing and i think that, at the very least, this was a good challenge for me to try to take on with characterization and the like.

anyways....that’s it i think! thank you so much for supporting me, really. i’m very thankful for everyone whose liked or reblogged any of the parts to komorebi. you are all incredible i love you. <3) 

(pssst!!! i’ll be talking about my 200 follower event soon. if you wanna participate, be on the lookout for that!!)

[chromosome23hq]

august 11th, 1997, 6:05 am, silverhouse apartments

One fine morning, with a mug of coffee in one hand and a watering can in the other, Billie Foster was not prepared for the crack of a gun to kick her into a vision. A crowd. A masked figure. Mayor Peter Webber, now with a hole in his forehead. So many lives altered in one fell swoop that the crowd overwhelmed her. A small stampede had Billie stumbling back into her apartment. Coffee in her monstera and water soaking her feet. She didn't get a chance to see anymore details, only a masked figure and an untimely death.

It’s not something Billie can just ignore, especially when it comes to the death of a public figure, much less the mayor. She needed to tell someone, an officer of some sort who can protect the mayor from anything. It’s when she remembers them, the Omegas. It’s a part of their job description to protect the weak and innocent, which includes the mayor. A heavy and deep sigh leaves between her lips. This is not how she wanted to start her morning. 

august 14th, 1997, 11:45 am, somewhere in the city

This has to be the most boring protection assignment in the world. For the past few days, all Yazmín Navarro Montes’ (also known as Siren) done is escort Mayor Peter Weber everywhere to defend him against an assassination threat. He still has his bodyguards, but extra cushion with Yazmín here, as Prism described it. Of course, it’s unspoken that this also works as great publicity. She had wanted nothing to do with it, which meant Prism had to pick her for this. Her luck always worked that way. Today, she’s starting to wonder if this threat was real at all, or a phony stunt to benefit the mayor and the Omegas. There’s been no suspicious figures lingering around his office or home, no attempts, and no threats sent to him. 

Still, Yazmín doesn’t slack on her job. She always has an eye out, ready to push the mayor out of the way or stop a would-be killer. They’re outside for a few minutes when something starts to bother her. There’s water everywhere she can sense, then suddenly there’s a spike. It’s nowhere near winter, but something freezing just entered the vicinity. No one stands out in the crowd, until—

Already running behind schedule after sleeping in late, Ethan Sato pays no heed to his surroundings as he cuts past a gentleman on his journey to class. He’s cursing himself internally, vowing for the umpteenth time to start going to bed earlier, when his internal monologue is drowned out by a wave of terror. Ethan stops in his tracks, his heartbeat thundering, panic squeezing down on his chest. Breathe, he needs to breathe. He takes in one, shuddering breath, knowing that this—whatever this is—isn’t his, then turns around and he sees—

“Oh, my God.” He claps his hand over his mouth. Behind Ethan is the Mayor, haloed by his own blood as he lays on the footpath. It takes Ethan a solid minute to process what he sees, what he feels, before he scrambles backwards, yelling, “Help! Somebody help!”

As soon as his co-worker had walked in, Jaewon Oh had scampered off for his break. An entire hour away from inane questions was exactly what he needed. Deciding to take a stroll to his favorite nearby coffee shop was done automatically, he ate there almost everyday. Unfortunately for him, his hour was coming to an end and so he made his way back with an extra sandwich in his hand. 

He was contemplating whether or not he could get away with leaving the store early when he saw it. Or, rather, them. A person in a mask appeared seemingly out of nowhere and Jaewon, curious, watched as they walked ahead of him with purpose. something about this didn’t feel right, he wasn’t sure exactly what was going on but there was a sinking feeling in his gut. 

Should he do something? No, yes? He was just about to shake off the feeling, not wanting to get involved in business that wasn’t his own, when he saw a man ahead of him go down. It took him a moment to register that it was the mayor and said mayor had just been shot. The masked figure was running and Jaewon watched, frozen to his spot, as they did so. On the sidewalk ahead of him the mayor lay dying, the particles of energy around him turning a meek gray as the life left him. 

Jaewon took several steps back and pressed himself against a storefront, brows furrowed. it couldn’t have been a normal bullet, a gun going off was loud. this had been too quiet. suspicion rose in him, humans could quiet a gun, sure, but not to that extent. could … could it have been a mutant? Jaewon looked back at the scene that was now filled with people, all as terrified as they were shocked, and wondered. It certainly seemed like a possibility. shit, he’d just witnessed the mayor getting shot, the mayor being killed. Soon enough police sirens would echo down the street and detectives would go looking for bystanders. Not wanting to be questioned, he quickly walked in the opposite direction and stewed in his own theories.

Sitting on the stairs of a building that had been ‘under construction’ for five years now (he’d been keeping track of time—the crew seemed to have abandoned it), David Castillo withdrew his flask and took a swig, eyeing the passersby—trying to find who best to focus on. Woman with the dog thinking about how the groomers screwed her poodle’s nail polish up completely? (he didn’t agree, they looked marvelous)—she walked by too fast. Man with the shirt that read ‘D.A.R.E - to keep kids off drugs’ and was already thinking about that sweet weed he would score later? Also too fast. 

That was the only problem with a staircase in the middle of an ‘under construction’ type of place!

Voices swirling around, from those thinking about their affairs to those thinking about their loyal spouses, he shook his head viciously. 

And then a strong voice emerged. 

Strong emotion.

Strong passion.

Strong thought.

‘Got ‘em.’

Followed by screams—real ones.

And a silence. Even amongst the screams... a silence.

It’s too late. 

There’s barely any noise between the mayor standing in front of Yazmin, and dropping to the ground. Blood is everywhere. Some of it’s even on her suit, her hands. She had bent down to hold the wound without thinking, before realizing it’s all too late. 

There’s people running away in the crowd, and that’s how she knows the shooter isn’t far ahead. She’s running before the bodyguards do, head going through anyway she could to slow them down. Every option can lead to civilian injuries or worse. Shit! Yaz speeds up, water rising from her side pouch and striking out toward the assailant’s ankle as they round the corner. It misses by an inch. 

As she enters the alley, she sends a dozen sharp edged droplets at the wall with a yell for them to stop. But no one’s there. The only evidence that remains is a spray painted symbol.

august 17th, 1997, 5:34 pm, ramer cemetery 

Peter Webber is found dead on sight. Upon inspection, they’re unable to find a bullet but water is found. Because of Yazmín’s ability and past criminal record, the suspicion falls onto her. Banks and schools are closed early that day, and remain that way until the funeral. National news channels cover it nearly twenty-four seven, wondering how the mayor of one of the most prominent cities in America was shot in broad daylight and by who. All channels in New York cut into their current programming to broadcast the funeral, from the funeral home to the drive to the cemetery. Crowds line the streets during the procession to show their love for the beloved mayor, as well as grieve his loss and the loss it is to the city. His children and wife thank those for being there with them through this difficult time. The vice mayor, who was sworn in days before, tells the city they’ll get through this together and follow the vision Mayor Peter Webber had.

august 18th, 1997, 9:30 am, new york city hall

This isn’t the first time that Han-Byul Song (also known as Prism) stands surrounded by cameras, microphones, and journalists waiting for what he has to say. But he can say that it’s the first time dealing with them like this. Individuals who once looked at him as if he was like them, now they see him as something else. It doesn’t sit right with him, none of this sits right with him. However, he’s a professional and never the type to let someone see him when he’s at his lowest. With a straightened back and squared shoulders, Han-Byul begins his statement. 

“Ladies and gentlemen of the city, my name is Prism and as you all know, I’m the current leader of the Omegas. We are tasked with protecting the lives of the innocent, both mutants and non-mutants. Recently, we were given the mission to watch over and protect Mayor Peter Webber, sending one of our own to act as one of his bodyguards.” His eyes fall on Yazmín, the young mutant standing beside him with a cold stare and a rigid body. “Despite our best efforts to protect the mayor, we—” Failed. The words fall from his tongue but it doesn’t feel like he’s the one saying it. He can see the questions that are ready to leap out of their mouths, the hunger in their eyes, beasts. They were all beasts. “However, this doesn’t mean that our mission ends here. We’re now undergoing an investigation to look for and capture the person behind this. Once we find this individual, we’ll bring justice to all of you but also Mayor Webber.” 

There are questions, lots of them, and he answers, some of them. There isn’t enough or maybe that’s what he tries to tell himself as Yazmín takes his place to read over her apology. He’s listening but also not, he’s mainly just watching her and the crowd. Even though she was there acting as a bodyguard, she’s a suspect. Just because of her ability, just because she’s a mutant, just because they needed a scapegoat. 

OOC INFORMATION:

Mayor Peter Webber died on August 14th, 1997 and his funeral was held on the 17th. Various radio talk shows and news articles report on his death. Your muse can react however they want to this! 

The masked killer is Daichi Kato (played by Admin Kashia). No muse is aware of him killing the mayor, outside of Magneto. Yazmín is under the suspicion of partaking. 

This marks the true beginning of The Brotherhood showing themselves to everyone, which also means they’re recruiting people in. Your muse has the decision to join them but be aware of the true purpose of The Brotherhood! The spots are unlimited. 

If you play a Xavier student or staff member, things will be tense as Charles plans on what to do next.

And that’s the way the pussy crumbles.

[sunnywritesstuff34]

At Times,

(Oh boy oh boy, another installment in the “Sasuke is raised by the Akatsuki au” yay. This one is a little weird and underdone but I. I tried. Also sprinkled some mythology in there because i wanted to. hurrah. Anyway, here is some fluffy stuff, yeah. good ole fluffy. next one probably won’t be. but you know. also I am jumping all over the place this timeline is not linear i will be jumping all over the damn place so you know. @ghostjellyfishheart i made another one.)

TW and CW for: child injury, semi-gratuitous depiction of serious injuries, sort of amnesia, fucked up sleep schedules/habits, kidnapping, distress, probably ooc characters, this is a long one brace yourself but its mostly fluff i swear, tell me if I missed anything. 

Sasuke woke up alone, for some reason. He opened his eyes carefully, sitting up. That action wasn't without pain of course, suddenly it felt like liquid fire had been poured into his veins, specifically his arm. He hissed through his teeth and looked blankly at it. His arm looked the same as the last time he looked at it, except a lot worse. A lot worse. Broken, it was clearly broken at the elbow. Well, it looked like he wouldn't get to sleep in afterall. Sasuke looked around him to try and get a grasp on his surroundings, and found that he was sitting in the middle of the woods, propped up against a tree. He groaned as he tried to get to his feet, scanning his surroundings again. He didn't see anything or anyone, but forced his sharingan away regardless. What happened? He couldn't remember. He must have gotten separated from the others, he’d been on a mission with Sasori and Deidara, right? And then… something happened. Sasuke felt panic grow in his chest. There had to be somewhere close he could go to collect his thoughts. His arm was beginning to scream, the numbness from unconsciousness wearing off. He was awake now, and the pain was only going to get worse. He gritted his teeth. Oh well. He’d been through worse. Conveniently, when he looked around, he found a path not too far from the tree he’d woken up at and began to follow it. He felt… heavy. Sasuke reached into his pocket, trying to figure out what he had on him should the need to defend himself arose. A couple of kunai that he nearly stabbed his fingers on when he reached into his pocket, and… something else. He pulled it out and his face twisted in disgust. A Hidden Sand Village headband. Was that who found him? Maybe? He was half tempted to throw the band into the brush but decided against it, tucking it back into his pocket. Not too far away, he came to a town that he… recognized. Degarashi Port, he realized. How did he get to Degarashi port? That's in the land of tea. Where is Sasori and Deidara? Itachi? Where is… anybody? Fuck, he’d really stepped in it now. He couldn't remember if something had happened, couldn't remember how he ended up here. Well that's head trauma for you, he thought bitterly. He probably had some type of head trauma. That was a good explanation. He was wearing his traveling clothes, his cloak and a sun hat he could use to cover his face if he needed to. Walking through the town, he tried to go over what he could remember. He’d been with Deidara and Sasori in tea country to assassinate some major leader. They had been scouting out a piece of land to see if they could camp there. And then… and then Sasori shouted something, and the scorpion tail, and then Deidara’s face looked more alarmed than Sasuke had ever seen it… and then nothing, for a while. And then… he paled. Fuck. something had happened, something bad. He’d been captured by someone who recognized him somehow, for what he was, who he was. Something about his eyes, something about the sharingan, forcing him to show it to them. Somehow he managed to get away; either he killed them and ran or stole away. Either way, he was in public now, so getting kidnapped wasn't so much an issue anymore. No one would snatch a kid in broad daylight in front of everyone, or at least, he didn't think so. 

He meandered down the road, trying to clear his foggy head and look for a plan of action. His broken arm was tucked under his cloak, safely out of sight. Other than that, he didn't look like anything out of the ordinary, for the most part. He turned a corner into an alleyway, leaning back against the wall. He knew this place like the back of his hand because of how many times he’d been there, it was kind of ridiculous how many bloodthirsty people there were in a place called the land of tea. He needed to get back to the land of Wind, he needed to get back to the lair. Deidara and Sasori had to be somewhere else. Whoever captured him had been smart, they probably led them to somewhere that was a dead end. He had to get back on his own, and Sasuke could do that. Probably. Maybe. Hopefully. No, he had to. He would. He would get home. Whatever happened was important, he knew that. He had to get back home because of… because of what? Couldn't remember, whatever it was, he had to get back to the Akatsuki lair. When had he started calling it home? 

“Oh my god, hold on, I know that kid!” Sasuke turned around just in time to lay eyes on four people. One of them was tall, white haired with an eyepatch and a bored expression. The other three were kids, around his age. One of them was dressed in a long sleeved crop top and his skin was so pale and grey Sasuke almost thought he was dead. After a few seconds of looking at him, he understood better. Black hair, serious eyes, fake smile. He's seen that before. The third person is a girl, short pink hair and wide green eyes. And the fourth… he felt his heart jump up into his throat. Blond, blue eyes. A stupid, stupid fucking smile. His mind flashes back years to being stranded at a boring hotel with an obnoxious boy around his age. Part of him wants to disappear, and the other part is grateful to see someone who’s just a little bit familiar. The blonde ran over to him. 

“Sasuke!” he called. “Hey, hey Sasuke! It's me, it's Naruto!” He remembered that name, and he remembered that face from a long time ago out in the country side. Sasuke must have been around twelve then, bored out of his mind because of how long Kisame and Itachi were taking to get a job. He didn't have a single friend his age at that point, (he still didn't, but he wouldn't think about that) so it was kind of refreshing to meet someone else like him. Even if it came in the form of a loud annoying boy with the brain of a toddler that screamed his name constantly and had no idea what it meant to keep his voice down. 

“Naruto,” Sasuke said bluntly. “I um- I can tell. That it's you.” The other three people followed behind and Sasuke did his best to figure them out. The girl, pink hair, is looking at him with something like admiration. He couldn't tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing. The other two seemed more cautious, the black haired one still smiling blankly but more on guard and the white haired adult… Sasuke got the creeping feeling that he was being analyzed right back. He tucked that into the back of his mind for later. This person was dangerous. He knew that much. 

“Who’s this, Naruto?” the girl asked. Naruto glanced at her. 

“Huh? Oh! Sakura, this is Sasuke.” He turned back to his friend. “And Sasuke, this is Sakura, Kakashi, and Sai. Sasuke’s a friend from a while ago, on that journey with Jiraiya?” Sasuke’s head was turning particularly slow. He blinked. 

“J-Jiraiya? Like the legendary Sannin?” Naruto’s smile grew wider. He probably thought Sasuke was impressed by his trainer, but in reality, Sasuke was thinking well, the last time I met a Sannin, he tried to cut out my eyes and/or use me and Itachi for creepy ritual stuff, that was not a good time. Of course, Naruto didn't need to know the inner workings of his mind. In his confused and half delirious state, Sasuke wondered idly if Naruto had a similar experience with Jiraiya. He doubted it, frankly. 

“Hello. My name is Sai,” the black haired boy said robotically. Sasuke didn't trust him, and he didn't trust that smile. At all. Still, he gave a half wave with his good hand. 

“Sasuke knows Ninjutsu!” Naruto said proudly. White hair, Kakashi, raised an eyebrow. 

“Oh? And what village is he from?” Naruto frowned. Sasuke tried not to grimace. He remembered his interactions with Naruto very, very clearly. They traded techniques, beat the hell out of each other a little bit, had a lot of fun and shared memories and thoughts they hadn’t ever shared with anyone before, and then… and than Sasuke noticed the leaf headband and disappeared without a word. He used any excuse to be anywhere else, because this kid was a leaf ninja. He couldn't risk it. He could never have been friends with someone like that. 

“Hey, I never gotta ask. Where ya from anyway?” Naruto asked.

“H-Hidden Sand,” Sasuke said quickly, pulling the almost forgotten badge from his pocket and showing it to them. Kakashi seemed to approve, and Naruto smiled. 

“Damn, Sunagakure? I've got some friends from there, that's-” 

“What's a Sand village ninja doing this far south?” Kakashi asked contemplatively.

“Lets just say I got… separated from my squad,” Sasuke told them, a plan beginning to form in his foggy mind. “I know the area here, I could help you get back to Fire Country. Do you think you can help me get back to Suna? I… erm… a sort of… diplomatic mission?” Naruto smiled wider, something Sasuke hardly thought was possible. 

“Sure! Gaara’s the Kazekage, he’s like, my best friend. No problem at all!” Kakashi sighed.

“Okay, what could possibly go wrong? Just a little pit stop at Suna, nothing more, nothing less…” Sasuke felt himself let out a breath of relief. At some point they started walking back towards the woods after Sasuke pointed to a couple of spots on the map, and at one point or another, the pain in Sasuke’s arm began to build. He stumbled on the forest path. 

“Woah there kiddo, what's going on?” Kakashi asked. The sensei gently moved him to a tree and had him sit down against it. The girl, Sakura, moved forward, and after examining him for a second or two she uncovered his arm. Kakashi raised an eyebrow as Naruto and Sakura winced. 

“Y-You're arm is broken!” Sakura exclaimed. Sasuke blinked at her blearily. 

“Uh… y-yes,” Sasuke managed. “It… it is.” She picked up his arm gingerly and began to look over it with a solemn expression. “I need to set it, and then apply some medical jutsu. It's a bad break. Why didn't you say something earlier, stupid?” she demanded. Sasuke blinked at her again. 

“S-Sorry. Today has been… rather trying,” he muttered. 

“Yeah, sure seems like it,” Naruto muttered. “We should make camp, the sun’s setting anyway and it's dangerous to go down these roads in the middle of the night,” he glanced at Kakashi who sighed and nodded his ascent. 

“Hate to admit it, but you're right. Sai, come on, let's go find a clearing.” Sasuke looked over at Sakura, the pink haired girl. Her eyes were clouded with worry, concern. He didn't understand it. He didn't know her. Why was she… Sakura sighed and put a hand to his forehead. 

“Sleep, okay?” she breathed. “You look exhausted, and it won't do the healing process any favors if you try to stay awake. Just rest, you're safe now.” You're safe now. It had been so long since anybody had said that to him. He didn't know if he liked it. He wasn't safe. Sasuke… was never safe. He had never been safe, never would be. But then chakra flowed from her fingertips, and he was lulled into… something. His eyes closed. Consciousness slipped through his fingers like sand. 

When Sasuke woke up, he was more tired than he had been in a long time. His periods of rest were typically dreamless and seemingly endless, unless they were plagued by nightmares that left him screaming for help and tasting blood. This time, he woke up slowly, almost… gently. He woke up to a forest ceiling made of leaves belonging to trees he had never seen before. He sat up slowly, not wanting to strain himself. 

“You're awake, teme!” Sasuke blinked and looked to his right, just to find a very enthusiastic Naruto looking back at him. He frowned and his answer was instinctive. 

“Of course I am, dobe.” Naruto only grinned more. He looked like he did when they met all those years ago. That pale kid, Sai, walked over. 

“Hello,” he called, and Naruto turned to look at him. 

“Sasuke’s awake!” Kakashi walked over too, surveying all of them.

“Yes, it appears that's the case,” he mused. “I hate to say this Sasuke, but you should probably try to go back to sleep. These idiots only have a few more hours of sleep left before we have to head out.” Sasuke only nodded. If there was one thing he was familiar with, it was weird sleep schedules. He was used to waking up at the crack of dawn or the middle of the night at the drop of a hat. That's just how he’d lived and had to live. He suspected that these ninjas must have lived a similar way. It certainly seemed that way. He had to fight the waves of rage that crept into his chest at seeing their headbands. Leaf soldiers. They were leaf soldiers. In any other circumstances he would slit all of their throats and run, but he needed them. And besides, he didn't know if he’d ever be able to do that to Naruto. Ever. It was disturbing, how averse he was to hurting this Konoha dog. It didn't feel right. He only nodded at Kakashi’s instruction and laid his head back down on the bedroll, frowning. 

“What… where did you get this extra bed roll?”

“It's mine! I let you sleep in it,” Naruto chimed in. Sasuke blinked at him. 

“And… why did you do that?” Naruto rolled his eyes.

“Uh, you were injured. You obviously need it more than me.” Sasuke couldn't help but smile. 

“That's… thank you.” He rolled over and froze after a moment. He sat up again. “Where’s- where’s my sword?” Naruto frowned and went rummaging on the other side of his sleeping area. He produced the chokuto, scabbard and all. Sasuke breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Geeze, all that for a blade?” Naruto muttered. After a few seconds of looking at it, he asked another question. “Why’s it so important?”

“I made it myself. Forged it with some help. It's called Kusanagi.”

“That's a cool name.” Sasuke closed his eyes and laid down. 

“It means grass cutter.” He mumbled, thinking of old stories his brother used to tell him in the dead of night. “There’s a whole story about it. Once there was an old god who roamed the plains of earth. He met some younger gods when they told him about a giant snake that terrorized them and kept eating their daughters. They offered their daughter’s hand in marriage if he could defeat the snake. When he did, he found out that there was a sword embedded in the snake's tail, a sword that could control the wind. He used it to ward off flames rising in the dry grass plains, that's why it was called grass cutter.”

“Wow,” Naruto muttered. “That's a cool story.” 

“Mhm,” Sasuke mumbled back. “It was one of my favorites.” They both nodded off soon after, and Sasuke fell asleep oddly well for being with the enemy. Better then usual, anyway. 

[taylorali-blog]

to the anonymous in my inbox, thanks for the information? i guess? i’ve been playing taylor for years now and i’ve read just about every “psa” on her that there could possibly be on tumblr, therefore i struggle to see why you’ve sent me this message. i understand that taylor’s not always made the most politically correct decisions, that that leaves some people not fond of her and i respect that, and if the admins ask me to drop taylor due to whatever your aforementioned psa says, then i’ll gladly take a step back. until then, please take whatever grievances you have with me and my fc either off anonymous and in an IM or to the admins, or merely block me and continue about your day.

thanks! xx

[sinnhelmingr]

tell me about heldolin possible reconcilliation? // @usedhearts​

rubs my filthy little gay hands together. oh yeah baby talk complicated wlw to me--

So, the groundwork for this hypothetical: Our little AU for 3, where Gwyndolin is saved from her canonical fate by a daring rescue on the part of her ex-wife. The two have been distant for some decades, ranging from cool hostility to open disregard, but with that underlying air of disappointment lacing every interaction. There’s nothing to salvage, but Hel’s not the kind of person that can leave anyone to what was planned, regardless of their interpersonal issues. One fraught road trip through enemy territory until they reach safety later...

Well there’s a lot to work through. First being Lin’s lingering trauma surrounding her captivity. Her we get the first hints of reconciliation in Hel’s refusal to let her deal with it alone. Yes, Gwynevere can help, and yes, her realm is safe and offers whatever support the wayward queen requires, but no one here saw it. No one here understood what the Valley had become. Even if they have lingering disagreements, Hel is the one sleeping on the floor of Lin’s chamber rather than in her own bed, because she can’t stand to think of someone she once cared for dealing with all of this alone. It helps, in some way, because Lin does need someone there and is going through it trying to cope.

Every possible reconciliation attempt proceeds from there. Hel has gone through, well, hell and back to save Lin and is still devoted to making sure she’s safe, but it’s not romantic. It’s honestly just Hel doing what she perceives as the right thing. Whether it helps or not, or her role could be filled by anyone else Lin cared for, it doesn’t matter because she’s the one there. And like it or not, she’s not going anywhere. From this, we have a variety of options but the two I personally see working out are these: 

Lin coming to rely on that, sort of clinging to Hel even if not literally. When not dealing with any official business regarding the ongoing political nightmare, she might drift towards Hel, wherever she is within the palace. 

Alternatively, given the mood of most of their interactions post-divorce, there’s a chance it starts as resentment. That Lin can’t stand to be in her shadow, clinging to her in the daylight when her struggles are easier to bear. 

Either way, the two are at least within physical proximity to one another, given Lin’s mental health and coping skills. Which is, inevitably, going to lead to a lot more run ins with her nephew.

Hel in a lot of ways has come to care for Lothric as if he were her own, because my God someone has to love that kid beyond his brother. Someone has to care about his wellbeing. He’s irreverent and he’s anxious and he’s struggling but determined to keep going, hardly the pious saint of the royal family’s propaganda. His wit is sharp and at times cruel, and he’s unsure about a lot of things but trying to hide that fact. Lin’s going to have to, through watching Hel interact with him, accept that her nephew is in fact more than a sacrifice -- for now. I think it’s Lin showing initiative to defrost ice queen around Lothric is going to start changing Hel’s demeanor towards her as well.

Like that’s not to say Lin changing overnight to team ‘hey yeah let’s not roast a living person with autonomy who never had a chance to live!’ is what it would take. That’d be unrealistic and OOC. I think it’s just. Hel being able to see that Lin can set aside her pride or stubbornness just long enough to get to know her sacrificial lamb as a person, as something more than what the rest of the world makes him by hers and Nev’s design. Lin defrosts to Lothric, Hel defrosts to Lin. It’s equivalent.

I think that would be the tipping point to sort of lessen the feeling of obligation between them. Maybe they can finally start talking again like people who are on at least civil terms, if not outright friendly. In my head it plays a little like their initial childhood interactions where Lin is reticent but observant and Hel is the more daring of them. She leads, and for a time, to a certain degree, Lin follows. And during the course of the narrative, as the latter grows stronger, as she acclimates herself to life outside of a cage, Hel starts to back off more and more. 

Maybe Lin won’t need her so much now, maybe things will go back to normal. And instead, Lin still leaves the door open between them, as it were. Just because she’s no longer so reliant on Hel doesn’t mean she wants her gone. 

Or maybe she tries to keep her distance if she’s still fighting against certain imminent realizations. Maybe she tries to shut the door but finds, as always, Hel has a key and she just. Accepts it over time. It’s her choice whether to come and go, just as she can choose to tell her to leave. 

Another vital step in their potential reconciliation is that it not be built upon reliance or obligation -- now they can see each other as relative equals.

By this point Hel’s been doing everything short of actually saying the words to convey she’s not stopped loving Lin. Even if she doesn’t realize it, there’s no other way people can take her actions. For Lin, I don’t know if it’s that simple but we can talk it out next time you’re online because Christ I’ve been typing this so long the weekend is over and you are back at work. The vibe I get from your Lin is that even if she cares she’s daddy’s girl and stubborn as hell once she’s been hurt. She’s either unsure or unwilling to convey that she’d like to patch things up. Which is valid, she’s been through a lot, there’s so much to work through before she even thinks of romance ever again. She’s especially been through the loss of her daughter, and that bond comes before anything else.

(Sidenote for those who are not privy to our discord lore: Let’s put a pin in the fact that at present Lothric has decided his salvation lies in overriding his mother’s decision to just lock him in the kiln once he’s ‘ready.’ He’s seen how Hel can influence his aunt and said ‘Yes, of course, I have to Parent Trap them into a reconciliation and then Hel will convince Aunt Gwyndolin I deserve to live and Mother won’t have any allies left!’ All the while his primary lackey is just questioning what version of the Parent Trap he saw because that’s not the plot at all-- /j. Anyway there’s three idiots -- two princes and a physician -- out here trying to play matchmaker despite the fact none of them have any romantic experience. This can only end well.)

I feel like the real test is going to be whether distance makes the heart grow fonder. Hel’s got other responsibilities out there, and once assured Lin is in a more stable place, that others will be there for her in a way that helps, she has to take care of them. She has to be with her own people, has to make sure they are safe, keep an eye on the world beyond. She’s gone like a thief in the night, and Lin has to learn how to navigate the world without her, furthering the balancing act between them returning to normal. Hel rode off on her big black horse and no one cna say for sure when she’ll be back. She comes and goes through the kingdom like a storm, staying just long enough to cause problems but gone with the slightest shift in atmosphere. The horse comes back only weeks later. Its rider does not. Instead, perched upon that black stallion is a familiar crossbreed, tattered but hanging in there.

Hel saved her, at the cost of her own freedom. What can Lin possibly think about that?

So it’s a flurry of Lin campaigning for her sister to send a party to save Hel, Nev saying that she can’t do it yet, possibly as she is is too busy with the fracturing of her own kingdom to lend the men. All the same, she forbids Lin from going off and doing something drastic. Tells her younger sister to stay with her daughter and help Yorshka heal. She needs it. Which works bc we have that big dramatic Hel returning to the castle drenched in blood and falling cinematically into Lin’s arms. It’s the drama these wlw deserve. 

And as we know, Lin insists on being Hel’s own caretaker while she recovers. To the point she scrutinizes every move Lothric’s physician makes in checking that the newly returned Death isn’t badly injured. Lothric thinks he stays winning because now Lin’s doing the same ‘demonstrate love but don’t speak it’ bullshit that Hel is so adept at. He’s buying his physician drinks after this despite her protests that alcohol does not sit well with her--

Hel eventually recovers enough from the strenuous battle and escape to start moving around the castle more. She confesses that, despite gossip saying this was some act of passion to show her devotion, she didn’t do this for Lin. She did it because it was the right thing to do, because Yorshka was in danger, and it had nothing to do with her mother. Something that breaks Lin’s shell completely because it proves Hel is still the woman she fell in love with. She didn’t risk her life and return the one Lin loves the most as a hollow token meant to win her heart again, she did it because her conscience has never steered her wrong. 

Now try this one on for size: One day it dawns on Hel that something is missing. She tears up her room seeking it only for Lin to finally be That Bitch and hold out her exes wedding pendant -- one she found that Hel never stopped wearing, if the fact it was still around her throat when Lin stripped her of her bloody dress is any indication. Hel’s been found out. Lin’s about to start asking some serious questions.

And if one of them can finally confess at this point that whether the love stopped or never did they feel it now just as they did before, that’s not the end. That’s not reconciliation. Because the fact remains that they broke up over an act that Hel considered pure evil, when Lin helped decide the ultimate fate of Lothric. Reconciliation is going to depend wholly on how AU we want to go, if Hel and the revived Artorias are able to convince Lin that this is heinous and even if it is what her father would have wanted, it isn’t right, it makes her just as terrible as he was. If Lin can finally see to reason or at least sentiment over legacy and duty, then I can see the pair moving towards actual reconciliation and spending at least the last days of a dying world together and at peace with their ultimate fates. If not... Oof. There might be other ways to make it work once Lothric goes rogue and says he won’t be kindling, if Lin can admit that yes, that means all the cruelty was for nothing and she was wrong (like her sister does), then maybe some slowburn reconciliation could take place.

But ultimately it’s going to depend on both character development on Lin’s part, whether by choice or in spite of resistance, and Hel proving that all the things Lin has accused her of (changing, being untrue, being corrupted by heresies) are untrue. Changing and steadfast characterization in tandem. Barely even friends (after the divorce) then somebody bends unexpectedly--