#DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE TO BE CRYING HYSTERICALLY WHILE DOING YOUR BRAIDS

[blackstarising]

anyways. i saw luca finally

[subwaysurf45]

Scrub-a-Dub

summary; Bucky asks you to cut and wash his hair. 

words; 1413

warning: literally nothing this is fluff

Masterlist!

You have always been the one trusted to cut Bucky’s locks, he always asked you to do it rather than go to a barber. He would set everything up and be too shy to ask you to join him in the washroom so he’d sit in the little chair and hope you’d walk in soon, sometimes he could hear you watching TV outside the bathroom and just wait for you to come in for a commercial bathroom break. 

“Bucky, I told you, just ask me,” you sigh and get your scissors out, he gets everything else out. 

“But I feel greedy when I ask,” he trails off and looks down at his feet, you just sigh and stand behind him. 

He tells you what he wants and you begin, it’s simple. just a little off everywhere and a tad shorter at the front, it was his classic cut. On really bad days during a breakdown he’d ask you to shave his head but he would be in hysterics when he’d ask, you never felt like it was really the Bucky you knew talking to you. He always liked his long hair, in the 40′s you’d never see a man with hair that long; unless they were a hippie before the prime. he liked pulling it back into a bun to match you and sometimes taking your hand and manually running it through his hair until you got the hint. 

You snipped away what needed to be snipped, it only takes around half an hour, it’s very easy because of his straight hair. every time you’d look into the mirror to see Bucky’s face his eyes were always closed, he said you gave him ‘tingles’ whenever you’d touch his head. his smile was so cute, the best part is that it was always involuntary. his cheek dimples would pop up and his eyelids gently rested against one another. 

“Aaaand, done!” you placed your scissors on the table and Bucky opened his eyes, his smile flashing teeth as he looked around. 

“Perfect as always,” he muttered to himself, he sat back in his chair even though the cut was over. a cheeky smile grew on his face while he fiddled with his finger nails, you just put a hand on your hip and waited. 

“You have to ask,” you could read his mind. 

“Nooo,” he groaned like a child, “please I don’t want to sound bossy!” he turned around to face you, rather than look through the mirror, “oh c’mon, you know what I’m thinking, please?” 

“Please, what?” you walked over to the tub and sat on the edge. 

“Can you maybe, kinda, um, like, wash my hair- it’stotallyokayifyoudon’twantto!” Bucky just giggled when you started to run the water, his blush had calmed before he slipped off his shirt. 

Bucky leaned over the tub and kept his flesh arm under his chin for comfort, the vibranium arm found your leg and gently rubbed the spot to show his thanks. the water touched his scalp and his shoulders dropped, a sigh left his mouth while you used the detachable head to get all his hair wet. 

You started to hum a tune when you saw Bucky try and look up to find you, he had told you sometimes when he can’t see you his brain makes him think you’re giving him a dirty look or you are just really unhappy. If he’d ask you to make him a cup of tea while you made yours or just to grab something of his from the room, he’d always come trailing behind you after a couple seconds, just making sure you’re not mad at him. 

“I know, it’s exhausting,” he sighed when you stopped the water to grab shampoo, “dealing with me being clingy and following you around,” the song you were humming turned into your way of saying you loved him and that you weren’t mad when he couldn't see your face. 

The shampoo hadn’t reached your fingers yet, so you leaned forward to meet Bucky’s eyes on the edge of the tub. “you aren’t clingy, you’re loving. And Buck, I need you to know I actually love doing things for you, getting you apples and cheese when you watch TV or giving back scratch, I love it.” you kissed his forehead, “so don’t apologize, please.” you leaned back and got some suds in your hand. 

Your fingers went deep into his scalp and massaged all around, his hair bunching up and getting under your hands. a few drops of water trickled down his bare back but that didn’t compare to how much was dropping off of his forehead. 

Bucky just let you do your thing, he didn’t always get his haircut every certain amount of months, it was more when he felt like it was too long and awkward. When you could actually braid the ends was his rule of thumb, and he knew exactly when that was because of how often you did it. Bucky liked fighting with his hair back, he felt like he twinned with you and also it was more comfortable. When he needed to rush out a fight in a last minute mission it was pulled back into pony or bun, but when you both knew you had time during or before a mission he always found a spot in front of you, one elastic on his knee while a hair brush sat on another, waiting for a French braid. 

“Close your eyes,” you said softly as you used the water again to wash it all out, “there you go, pretty boy. Good job, I bet that feels really nice, huh?” you scrubbed around, “you deserve it.”

You couldn’t see it but a few tears mixed with the washed out shampoo, you never failed to make him cry with the simplest praise. all at once a towel was thrown around his head, you shook it around

a bit and made sure it was dry enough. You’d learned the hard way that hair dryers weren’t appreciated, way too loud. The towel did the trick and Bucky liked to let it air dry after you told him heat on hair can damage it, he took that and ran with it. 

The wooden hairbrush Bucky had a legitimate attachment to sat on the counter, you grabbed it and started to make work of the knots at the back. You both were still by the tub but Bucky was sitting upright at this point, his eyes trained on you as you brushed back his hair. 

He always noticed the very tip of your tongue stuck out when you did the little things: gardening, cooking, brushing his hair. You always got embarrassed when someone pointed it out because you saw it as a bad habit. Bucky reached up quickly and ‘booped’ the little nub sticking out, you gently smacked his arm.

“None of that,” you playfully whined, your face heating up. 

“But I think it’s adorable, it means you’re focusing and I like it.” Bucky stated with a nod, his hands making their way to your hips, gently squeezing and pulling at them, “get closer,” he mumbled and pulled you forward. 

“Let me get the back,” you said absentmindedly. 

“Let me help,” Bucky had his smirk, he scooted forward and threw his face right between your breasts. 

“Bucky!” you tried to push his shoulders back, he shook his head for multiple reasons. 

“Oh, did you say ‘get closer’?-”

“-No!-” you giggled.

“Alright,” he pulled you tighter but kept his face where it was, you were just wearing a sweater so he didn’t get skin to skin like he probably wanted. You sighed and started to brush Bucky’s hair at the bac., every so often his face would move around, claiming he was getting comfy, he would turn his head a bit and kiss you through the febric, only making you laugh more. 

“Now, that will be three hundred dollars for the salon de moi,” you giggled and pulled away, “maybe three-fiffty after what you just did,” your eyebrow raised before you began to put everything away. 

Bucky went when your back was turned and threw you over his shoulder, he brought you back to the bed, “how about another type of payment?” he asked as he started to lift up your sweater, “and thanks for everything, by the way,” it got over your head. 

“Love you, Bucky.” 

“Love you, now time for me to pay up!”

[artanddaddyissues]

I saw that you did Nadia’s moments with her baby but it was heavily about a fem MC who carried the baby, which is great and I loved your writing but could you do the same prompt with Portia and Nadia and a male MC? Love your writing!

This is genius honestly!! I can definitely do that for you friend :)

For the original series i'll keep the fem M/C pronouns but I'll do anything else requested! <3

Nadia + Portia moments with their baby

Heads up: LOTS OF FLUFF, M/C has male pronouns, Nadia + Portia carry, kiddo has gender neutral pronouns, Nadia is pink, Portia is orange, M/C is yellow

I added a keep reading line, for your scrolling sanity <3

- She never knew she wanted children until she met you <3

- Somehow, ethereal and incredibly beautiful while pregnant

- Very moody, but she never takes it out on you. "If this baby keeps me awake one more night I might just- Can you give me a massage?" "Of course, come here,," You'd say happily.

- She spends her free time in the library, reading parenting books while you try to find the best midwives in all of Vesuvia.

- You two have grown significantly closer. "Be a dear and shave my legs?" "How-" "I'll show you, it's just the same as your face."

- "Nadia! ITS TIME!"

- After the birth, you sit behind Nadia on the bed and re-braid her hair. As she sits she says, “you’ll be the best father.” A smile spreads across your face and you say, “and you’ll make the best mother.”

- The baby grows up faster than you can blink. At a very young age, they walk and even mumble little baby things.

- "Hey sweetie, lets get out of this engagement-" "I heard that, dear." "Sorry, we'll behave." You wink at them and they giggle, knowing that you'll slip away to have fun in the maze, or the gardens, or the fountain.

- They are big into photography and take you on adventures through the city. "Papa, take me to the fancy bridge! I want to take pictures."

- Access to the best education, transportation, food, clothing and so much more.

- You help them learn a new language with Nadia, also learning yourself.

- "Look what I drew for you!" A picture of you sitting behind Nadia, doing her hair, while they sit in front of Nadia and she does their hair. Smiling from ear to ear, you kiss the top of their head, "I love it! Nadi! Come see our little artist."

- Very supported and loved, has no problem voicing how they feel. Overall feisty but usually right.

- "It's my birthday soon, so, you all have to do what I say." They put their hands on their hips, making you and Nadia laugh. There are many moments like this.

- They're not scared of their mother and fathers royal status and love the public eye but they also have a huge amount of manners and respect. "Papa, stand up straight!" they pinch your hand

- She has prepared a scrapbook the day she found out she was pregnant.

- Pepi has not left her side and you start to get jealous. "Pepi can I please-" The cat hisses at you. "Oh, you did not just-" Portia laughs hysterically

- One day, while she is busy sweeping the porch, you notice how tired she is. "Hey Portia, stand up straight for a second." She turns to you confused, "Sure?" "I remember the midwife telling me this would help you." You step behind her and wrap your arms under her stomach, "Oh I think I know what's going to happen..." Carefully, and very slowly, you lift the belly and hear Portia sigh, "Oh that's great..."

- When the baby is born, ohgod... you're excited!! Nadia reassures you many times and gives Portia many months off work.

- You grab the baby bag, everything you both prepared and soon enough, Portia is holding a beautiful baby in her arms. You're both crying- no, sobbing.

- You made flashcards for the baby, little wooden toys, a play area outside and so much more.

- When the kid is old enough to walk, they're a walking terror. "No! Don't touch that!" "That plant has spines!"

- "Hey Papa! How was the market?" "Great. This kid slept the whole time." She laughs as you show the toddler sleeping peacefully on your back.

- Portia is the very protective mother of the both of you. You're more relaxed, but still reasonable.

- "Hey pops, can we go pick the food in the garden?" "Ask your mom, that's her sacred place-" "MOM!"

- They grow up to be very knowledgeable in everything botany. They help Portia in the garden, sometimes preferring the garden over city trips with dad.

- "Happy parents day!" They got you both a sketchbook, filled with drawings, pictures, letters, poems and so much more. You're brought to tears

- The kid grows up to be very expressive, since they're so supported at home. "Dad, can you help me put this on?" "Of course I can kiddo."

- When the kid turns 12, you and Portia had been planning a party for a while. A trip to Nevivon!

- Every summer, you both go to Nevivon for a few weeks, then to your home for another few weeks.

- The kid loves boats and travelling. "pops! Help me tie this rope!" You laugh and help them.

- "They took your eyes." "And your temper" Portia nudges your side and you laugh

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

Pomegranate Seeds 3

well we got some BIG projecting going on here. if yall didn’t know i had mommy issues before, you sure as fuck do now 😂😂😂

Warnings: insecure Jask, allusions to verbally abusive/manipulative parents, lmao rebellious jask, good ole miscommunication between jask and geralt - but solved quickly, lol swearing

___________

Letter after letter reached Jaskier in the underworld, and time after time, he destroyed them. He didn’t tell Geralt, telling himself it was because the ruler of the underworld had more important things to deal with. He didn’t want to admit he was scared Geralt would send him packing. 

Eventually, Demeter resorted to threats. Threats of famine that she followed through on. She underestimated just how like her Jaskier was, though. He didn’t dignify her tantrum with a response. 

When she sent messengers, he started to worry.

He told Charon to alert him, not Geralt, if another god or goddess came to visit, even one of the more senior demigods. He didn’t want to take any chances. Geralt didn’t need to know anyway. 

But Geralt noticed something was off.

Jaskier would say he was tired, or he couldn’t perfect a specific verse of the song he was writing. Usually it worked, but it was only ever a salve, never a cure, for Geralt’s suspicions. 

“What’s wrong, love?” Geralt cradled him in his lap, lounging in the now lavish courtyard under the pomegranate tree Jaskier had brought back from the brink of death. 

Jaskier nuzzled closer, “I’m just ti-”

“No, I asked you what’s wrong,” Geralt insisted, giving him a gentle squeeze and placing a kiss to the top of his head. 

“It’s nothing,” Jaskier lied, hoping the sigh he accidentally let slip didn’t register, “You don’t need to worry about it.” 

Geralt hummed and went quiet for a moment before he curled a bit tighter around Jaskier and whispered, “Do you want to go home?” 

Jaskier scrambled up, sputtering and terrified, “Did she get to you?!” When Geralt just looked at him with an unreadable expression he started to panic, feeling hot tears welling up in his eyes as he did his best to keep his voice steady, “Don’t send me back. Please, Geralt. Anything but that.”

“I’d never,” Geralt soothed, standing and hesitantly reaching for Jaskier’s hand. 

He eyed the offer warily, sniffing and trying to calm himself, “Then why would you say that?”

“I thought you were unhappy. You’ve been… acting strange.” 

Jaskier ignored Geralt’s outstretched hand, choosing to wrap himself around Geralt’s torso and bury his face in the crook of his neck, “I’m sorry. I’ll be better tomorrow. It’s just, uhm. I’m just a bit off.” 

Geralt instinctively held him tighter, “Jaskier I want you to be happy, not ‘better’.”

Jaskier just hummed, swallowing back his unshed tears. 

“Who were you talking about?”

For a moment, Jaskier had to remind himself to breathe before he could respond, “Hm?”

“You asked if someone had ‘gotten’ to me?”

Tears spilled regardless of Jaskier’s best efforts, “My mother. She wants me to come back. She’s been sending letters and messengers.”

“And you don’t want to?” 

“Never,” Jaskier insisted, “This is the most freedom I've ever had. I don’t have to hide in the treetops to feel any sense of calm, I get to make decisions, I make things grow when I want, for whom I want.”

Geralt ran a hand over his hair, resting it at the base of his skull and brushing his thumb through the little hairs behind his ear, “You don’t ever have to leave. I love you. I want you here.” 

“I love you too,” Jaskier whispered, “I’m just scared.” 

Geralt gently pushed him back just enough to look into his eyes, “There’s a way you could stay forever…”

The hopeful glint in his eyes told Geralt everything he needed to know, so he continued, “If you eat even one pomegranate seed you will be tethered to the underworld. You can stay and do whatever pleases you. But it is irreversible. One bite and your fate is forever tied to this place.” 

Jaskier thought about it for a moment, searching Geralt’s eyes for something, anything, that could make the decision for him, “I could never leave?” 

“Only if the both of us willed it and only for a short time,” Geralt explained, tenderly wiping his tears away, “I could never keep you here if you were miserable. Try as I might to think about anything else, your happiness consumes much of my thoughts.” 

“Hmm,” Jaskier leaned into Geralt’s touch, turning his head to kiss his palm, “Do I need to decide right now?”

Geralt kissed his forehead, “Of course not. It’s just an option.”

“Okay,” Jaskier sighed, curling his fingers around the robes cascading down Geralt’s back, “I like it - the idea. I just… I want to take my time?” 

“Absolutely.”

-

Time wasn’t something Jaskier was allowed apparently. 

The two of them were just climbing out of a lovely bath when a chattering skeleton announced the arrival of a visitor. 

Demeter stood in the throne room with her back turned to them, examining one of the glowing diamonds when they entered. She looked so small, almost insignificant. Her hair was in an intricate braid, she wore a cream toga, adorned with gold that made her look more like a savior than the horror she really was. 

Jaskier gripped Geralt’s hand tightly and pulled them to a halt, knowing very well Demeter wanted him to speak first. It was a stand off he was familiar with. If he spoke first she had the upper hand, hearing his tone and picking apart his words. She always knew how particular her son was with words. 

“Julek. It’s time to go.”

Her voice echoed off the stone walls as she calmly stated her order, not even bothering to turn and look at him. 

Jaskier took a deep breath and squeezed Geralt’s hand, not looking at him for fear of crying, “No.” 

“Playtime is over. You have duties. The humans did not prepare for you to leave. They’re calling it winter,” she snorted as if the idea was as ridiculous as standing on your head in a temple. 

Jaskier grit his teeth, feeling the rage bubble up in his chest, “I don’t care.”

“Clearly,” She rounded on him with a condescending look of disappointment, “It doesn’t matter if you care. They’re still your responsibility.” 

Jaskier took a step forward, “A responsibility you assigned me. You fixed it before, fix it now.”

“I cant.” 

“Tough shit.”

Jaskier wasn’t sure how any of his words were coming out without sounding absolutely hysterical, but he was glad for it. He glared at her, daring her to try again while internally he was scrambling for a plan.

“For this particular magic, I need you. Seasons will take more work than a year round harvest, but you have set them off nonetheless.” Demeter’s voice was softer than usual, though Jaskier didn’t miss the incincerity of her words. She’d raised him. He knew her, probably better than she knew herself for all the introspection she refused to take part in, and he knew she was playing games. 

"Oh? Are you no longer capable?" Jaskier laughed bitterly as he turned to walk toward the courtyard, "The great goddess of plenty and harvest can't sustain what she's built? Unfortunate. I am good at what I do here. I am so good at caring about the souls that end up in our audience-"

"Our!?"

"DONT interrupt me," Jaskier shouted, turned and stomped his heel into the ground making vines burst forth from the marble beneath them, wrapping around Demeter's waist and mouth, "I have also found I'm rather adept at torture when necessary. I love it down here! I love being able to right wrongs and show the righteous to Elysium. I love having a purpose to my actions, not just being someone's unappreciated trophy! And I love Geralt. He treats me so well and loves me so sweetly and wants only to make me happy. Nothing about your 'seasons' and 'bringing life' interests me in the slightest, Demeter. Because that's not who I am. I am rage and justice and I am to be feared, not manipulated. Take your failing crops and go." Jaskier waved a hand dismissively and the vines disappeared back into the ground. 

Without looking back, he strode toward the pomegranate tree in the center of the garden, plucking a fruit from the nearest branch and turning to glare at his mother. Geralt was hot on his heels, glancing between the two but keeping quiet. Jaskier had told him he wanted to confront her himself, without her thinking he’d been told what to say. So Geralt stood by and seethed. 

Jaskier pulled a knife from the holster in Geralt’s belt and sliced a nice section out of the pomegranate. 

“Don’t you dare.” Demeter snarled, standing at the edge of the courtyard. 

Jaskier smirked and peeled the white fiber from the blood red seeds with a casual sigh, “I don’t think your opinion matters much here.” 

Jaskier flipped the knife in the air and caught it by the blade, maintaining eye contact with Demeter as he handed it back to Geralt.

“Are you sure?” Geralt’s voice was just a whisper as he took the blade.

Jaskier picked a particularly dark red seed from it’s home and turned to look at him, “There’s absolutely nowhere else I’d rather be, my love.” 

With that he popped the seed in his mouth. 

[chockfullofsecrets]

Critical Role: Don’t You Know?

(Read on AO3)

Rating: Gen

Summary: Clarabelle just giggles, revealing a little gap between her two front teeth. “What?” she asks. “Don’t you know? Caduceus never starts tickle fights, he knows he’s gonna lose!”

“Belle,” Caduceus says loudly, “maybe you should go check on the tea-”

Beau likes to think she has a good sense for potentially incriminating information, and right now it’s pinging off the fucking walls. “No, no, no, tell me more.”

Wordcount: 3.7k

A/N: fill for this anon prompt! and for a bunch of people who want to see poor Cad get absolutely wrecked, apparently XD 

spoilers for C2E92 and C2E96 - and a little side note that i may have forgotten the timing of certain Greater Restorations while planning this fic, so let's just pretend that the clerics had two more of them to cast that day 🤦

---

Beau doesn’t like feeling jealous. It’s not a frequent feeling, around the Nein, since they’re all pretty much the same level of fucked up, but watching Caduceus and his siblings sit in amiable silence as they work through prepping whatever grows around here that passes for dinner is starting to get to her.

Maybe it’s just too soon, after going back home to Kamordah. She’s fine, or she will be - she loves her friends and they love her and her parents don’t and that’s fine, but -

She grits her teeth. All she has to do is sit here in this corner and wait for Caduceus’ mom to finish making tea in the other room, and then she can take it and run and leave this happy little family tableau to their own devices. She’s got a bottle of wine and access to a trickster cleric, it’s not going to be that hard to have a good evening.

She’s still mulling over what kind of pranks she can play in a petrified temple when the littlest Clay - who’s still a good head taller than her, because fucking firbolgs - finishes scraping the peel off the last unidentified vegetable in her stack and drops her knife with a bright little clank as she turns to her brother. There’s no way Caduceus hasn’t noticed that for every one she’s done herself she’s snuck another into his pile, but Beau’s not going to be the one to rat her out. “Okay, I’m done, lemme look at your hair! I bet I can fix it, I have all my dyeing stuff with me.”

Caduceus eyes his own pile and, very slowly, starts pushing it in his older sister’s direction. Beau chokes back a snort.

Said sister’s eyes narrow. “No!”

The little one pouts at both of them. “But Calliope, look at him, he needs help!”

Big sister - Calliope - takes advantage of the little circle the three of them are sitting in to shove both of their shoulders simultaneously. “No. If you two are taking a break, then so am I!”

Caduceus rumbles out a laugh, already starting to undo his braid. “Sure, but you’re explaining why we’re not done to Mom.”

It’s a low move. Beau approves entirely.

Calliope scoffs and tosses her paring knife in his direction handle-first, laughing herself when he yelps and dodges. “Oh, we’ll see who’s doing the explaining.”

She’s smiling, though, as she gets up and stretches. Beau takes one look at her insanely toned arms and has to swallow convulsively to get her saliva flowing again.

As she wanders off, Caduceus shakes the last of his hair loose and flops the whole pink mass over onto his face. “Don’t pull too hard, Clarabelle, it’s pretty fragile right now.”

“I’m not a baby, Caduceus,” Clarabelle snarks, and promptly climbs halfway into his lap to bury her hands in it and start bemoaning the state of his roots.

The quip slips out of Beau’s mouth reflexively. “You know he’s just luring you in so he can tickle you, right?”

It’s kind of their thing, her and Caduceus, whenever one of their group is standing anywhere in his vicinity and his hands are free. The reactions are great - the warning makes Jester bounce excitedly, Fjord and Caleb go all red and sputtery, Yasha look up in quiet anticipation - fuckin’ adorable, by the way - and Nott threaten to kill them all as she darts away.

And if she’s a little too invested in the way Caduceus huffs and throws her a quiet little smile before reeling his victim in, like they’ve got an inside joke that’s just for the two of them - well, that’s just an unexpected benefit of the chaos.

Today, though, two pink heads snap in her direction. Caduceus makes a panicked little sound, barely audible under all the floof, and isn’t that interesting.

Clarabelle just giggles, revealing a little gap between her two front teeth. “What?” she asks. “Don’t you know? Caduceus never starts tickle fights, he knows he’s gonna lose!”

“Belle,” Caduceus says loudly, “maybe you should go check on the tea-”

Beau likes to think she has a good sense for potentially incriminating information, and right now it’s pinging off the fucking walls. “No, no, no, tell me more.”

Clarabelle beams. “Calliope!” she yells. “C’mere, we have to tickle Caduceus!”

Caduceus’ ears shoot up in obvious alarm. He lunges forward and makes a decent attempt at smothering her through all the hair in his way, but Calliope’s already turning around.

Beau shivers - apparently the smug Caduceus look is genetic. “Did I hear that right, Belle? Caduceus has been going out and starting tickle fights?”

Caduceus lets go of his sister and gets halfway up before Clarabelle tackles him with a war cry. They’re wrestling on the ground, lanky limbs everywhere and absolutely terrible form, by the time Calliope lopes over.

She reaches in with one hand and hauls her seven-foot-tall brother up into a sitting position by the collar of his shirt - fuck, that’s hot. Beau firmly suppresses the urge to fidget as Calliope tugs one of Caduceus’ arms up over his head and yanks his sleeve down to his elbow. “Well, Caduceus? Got anything to say for yourself?”

Caduceus actually whines. It takes serious effort not to gape in shock. “I didn’t do anyth-ING-NO-”

His protests dissolve into near-silent squeaks as Calliope starts to tickle his - hands? Beau watches closely as she drags her fingertips up his forearm, fluttering them lightly in the crease of his elbow, and commits the technique to memory.

Caduceus’ helpless grin is wider than she’s ever seen it. He braces his feet on the floor and tries to twist free, elbows akimbo. “Calliope! Stohop it, I’m - heh - I’m not-”

She snorts. “Not a chance, we’ve got - how many years has it been again?”

“Two hundred!” Belle chirps, and dives in to worry at the backs of Caduceus’ ears with blunt fingernails. The trembling, stuttery sounds he’s making jump an octave as he frantically shakes his head from side to side.

“Ten,” he snickers. “Belle - heeeh, hehe - cut it out, I’m - mmm! - I’m serious, come ohohon-”

Clarabelle turns back to Beau. “See?”

Oh, Beau sees. She’s gonna get so much mileage out of this.

Caduceus looks over at her too, eyebrows furrowing, but Calliope’s already talking over the both of them. “Well, that’s a lot of years to catch up on, I’d better pull out the big guns.”

Caduceus’ eyes widen. Beau decides to help the panic along and mouths big guns? in his direction, slipping her notebook out and opening it to a fresh page.

Caduceus yelps and throws himself forward with alacrity she’s never seen from him, ripping his arm from Calliope’s grip and nearly scrambling past Clarabelle before his big sister takes a step forward and scoops him up under the arms. “Nice try,” she tells him. “Might have worked, if you weren’t so scrawny.”

She drops him on top of Clarabelle. “Hey!”

“Sorry, Belle, you gotta stay out of the way!”

“No, I’m helping!” she insists, and dutifully wrestles her way on top of Caduceus to start tickling his ears again.

Caduceus wheezes and curls into a ball, trying fruitlessly to shove her away. “Belle - Belle!-”

“Let’s see, let’s see…” Calliope muses, crouching down and plucking a booted foot from the pile of limbs. “Legs?”

She grabs Caduceus’ calf and squeezes it like a piece of dead meat. He squeals. “Yep, still ticklish.”

Caduceus kicks her in the knee with his other leg and she staggers back for a moment before surging forward to grab at his hips. “Ow! Oh, now you’re in for it.”

He can’t do anything but flail as she wrestles him onto his back and urges Clarabelle to sit on his belly to keep him pinned. “Nonono! M’sorry - eheheeeeh, Belle, stoppit! - I’m sohohorry! Don’t!”

There’s a pause. Beau leans forward, half excited and half trying to sense genuine distress. She’s never heard Caduceus plead like this - not her fault, the fucker has apparently been hiding his ticklish spots for months, but it’s not like she wouldn’t be willing to jump in and save him.

And maybe she wants to see what Calliope’s arms can do up close. Maybe.

Calliope adjusts her grip on him and smirks. “Heh. No, I think I’m gonna. Belle, you got him?”

“Yep!” she says cheerfully, bare feet planted on each side of his ribcage. Caduceus has managed to press one big palm over her face, keeping her at arm’s length and away from his ears, but she just wriggles her bare toes under him and into the backs of his ribs. “Tickle, tickle, Caduceus!”

Caduceus guffaws and squirms like his life depends on it, but there’s nowhere to go. “Noooo - hahaaaheeh - stop, stop, not my ribs-”

He keeps begging as Calliope levers a hand under his back and starts rooting around for something with a focused expression. She finds it, too - Caduceus screams and arches his back nearly in half as he abandons Clarabelle and grabs desperately for her hands instead. “Pleeeheease! HHAHAH - nonnono - eheaahaaa!”

Beau can’t even see what she’s tickling, but there’s enough potential here to topple a regime. “Fuck,” she whispers. Does this make her the most powerful tickler in the Nein now? Is this what ascending feels like?

She’s surprised that the rest of the Nein haven’t come running yet, with all the noise he’s making. But then again, she and Cad and Caleb are the best at paying attention to their surroundings and Caleb definitely isn’t in a hurry to run towards hysterical laughter.

She doesn’t mean to make any sound herself, but amidst all his struggling Cad’s ears twitch in her direction. “Beau,” he pleads. Shrieks again. “Help mmm-ahahahAA-”

“Hm, who’s that?” Calliope stops tickling, judging from Caduceus’ wheezed relief, and turns to look in her direction. Beau swears that her hair flutter in a nonexistent breeze. “Right, you, the non-important one.”

Beau nearly bites her tongue in despair - why does she have to be such a disaster around every hot woman she meets? “Yep, that’s me.”

Calliope looks at her for a moment, considering. “You look like a fighter. What are you doing all the way over there - you’re not scared of him, are you?”

It’s never been less tempting to confess the time she accidentally hit Cad in the face with some of her weeks-old pocket bacon and he tickled her until she cried. She clears her throat. “Uh, no. No. It looks like you’re doing a pretty good job already, I mean, he’s really-”

Calliope yanks her arm free and uses it to beckon her over. “Eh, come here - Belle, watch it, I’m going to flip him.”

Caduceus squawks in renewed panic as one of his sisters tumbles off him and the other wraps her arms around him and twists him facedown like a wrestling move from the back-alley brawls Beau used to sneak into as a teenager - and, once again, hot.

She swallows again and strolls over as casually as she can while Calliope pins him across the shoulders with her forearm. “Riiight - here.”

She doesn’t even touch, just points to the backs of Caduceus’ thighs, but he obviously knows where she’s leading. “Beau, no,” he yelps.

He tries to pull his legs up beneath him. Beau automatically grabs him just under the knees and drags him out flat. “Hey, hey, where do you think you’re going?”

Calliope raises an approving eyebrow. Beau tries not to blush. “It’s his worst spot - he’s ticklish there if you so much as look at him wrong.”

“We chased him up a tree once,” Clarabelle pipes up. She’s tap-tap-tapping blunt fingernails across Caduceus’ back, sending him shivering. “He stayed up there all night until Dad went to get him.”

“Beau, don’t,” Cad rasps. She’s heard him sound perkier seconds after coming back from the dead. He’s laughing still, quietly, and it sounds somewhere between the lava of the volcano forge they stayed in once and Frumpkin’s rusty purrs.

“Not so fun when you’re the one doing the begging, huh,” Beau tells him. She flicks him, once, in the back of the leg and looks incredulously at his siblings. “So you’re telling me his absolute worst spot… is his fucking butt?”

Calliope shrugs. “He’s so weird, isn’t he?”

All three of them laugh at that, even Caduceus, so Beau figures it’s all right. “Yeah, we’ve noticed. We’re all weird though, it’s kind of our thing.”

“Sure,” Calliope says. “He’s weird and ticklish, though, so if I wanna pin him down and get all his worst spots then he’s just gonna have to deal with it-”

Caduceus peels his face off the ground and gasps out a few strangled syllables that reverberate in the warm air.

Both of his sisters shriek as their eyes fill with black ichor. “Caduceus!” Calliope yells, letting go of him and grabbing for her face with one hand and her holy symbol with the other. “What did you do?”

Caduceus props himself up on his elbows, panting. “Oh, it’s just something I picked up,” he tells her smugly. “Don’t worry, it’ll wear off.”

“After how long,” Calliope growls.

Clarabelle giggles, still draped over Caduceus’ back. “Oh, this feels weird!”

He laughs and starts to crawl out from under them, but Beau’s not done with him yet. Mercifully un-blinded, she snags him around the knees again. “Wow, usually you’re the one telling us not to be mean to people.”

Caduceus rolls onto his side and looks sharply back at her, sighing in relief when she holds her hands up in surrender. “Well, I know these people.” He shoves gently at Clarabelle, wriggles a finger into her side when she doesn’t move. She squeaks. “They deserve it.”

He grins down at her, unrepentant and bratty, and Beau can’t help but grin back.

“So are your thighs really that bad?” she asks. “Or-” she jerks her chin over at Calliope, who’s started praying. “-did you just decide to be a jerk all of a sudden? Also, how the fuck did we not know how ticklish you are? You wreck us all the time!”

Caduceus shrugs. “S’easy to get in your heads,” he says. Beau bristles a little at that, but he’s not wrong - Caduceus has this way of looking at them like he’s going to take them apart one way or another, and the tickling is probably the safer route. Doesn’t hurt that they can always trust him to set them right after, either.

“And they’ll get me eventually, might as well have some fun with it.” He fixes Beau with a stern look. “Now you, on the other hand-”

She interrupts him. “Hey Cad, how long’s that spell supposed to last?”

He blinks. “A minute, why?”

Beau points wordlessly over his shoulder at a clear-eyed Calliope. “Uh.”

Caduceus twists around. “Oh, dear.”

That’s all he has time for before Calliope grabs his shoulders and twists him facefirst back into the ground. “You know,” she tells him, “I was going to go easy on you. Was. You’re lucky I’m not calling Colton in here.”

“That’s ‘cause Colton’s a jerk,” Caduceus says, muffled and remarkably calm.

“So are you, apparently,” Calliope retorts. She forms a vibrating claw with one hand and digs it into his spine, and Caduceus shrieks. “You can’t just blind people!”

“I’m telling Mom and Dad!” Clarabelle agrees, wiping one last black tear from her eye and lunging back in to knead mercilessly at the backs of Caduceus’ ribs.

Caduceus shrieks again, kicking helplessly, and tumbles straight back into hysterical laughter. “Come - hahaAAA - come on!”

Beau’s fairly sure that he’s going to hurt himself if she jumps in, but Calliope looks breathlessly over at her and grins with a bloodthirsty look that Beau recognizes all too well. She usually saves it for enemies, though, or Caleb if he’s being particularly insufferable. “Is that what he does to you guys too? Go on, get some revenge!”

And well, put like that…

It takes a bit of effort to pin one of Caduceus’ flailing legs, especially when he catches wind of what she’s doing and starts kicking even more frantically. “Hold fucking still,” she yells.

Caduceus is losing it, less put together than she’s ever heard him. “I cahahan’t!”

Beau jams the ball of her thumb into the nerve cluster just above his knee until his leg goes dead. “There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“What was that?” Clarabelle says, sounding delighted. “Can I learn how to do that, Callie?”

Beau ignores her, focusing in on her prey. “Let’s see, how many apologies am I looking for?” She’s pretty sure she deserves every single time that Caduceus has tickled her to pieces, but the opportunity to tease Caduceus the way he does with them is too good to pass up. “I’ve lost count at this point, guess we’ll just start the ball rolling and see what happens.”

She squeezes mercilessly at the back of his thigh, making sure he can feel it through his homespun trousers, and he laughs a bit louder and squirms as best as he can, but it’s not enough-

“Huh,” she says, trying to channel Caduceus, and watches his sisters dig into his back for a moment. Something something destiny, calm, balance-

Oh. She grins and spiders her fingers ever so lightly over the vulnerable spot, and Caduceus howls.

Beau settles in, satisfied, and keeps spidering until he’s thrashing and laughing too hard to get more than a couple broken words out. He’s not anywhere near out of breath, not yet, so she figures they’ve got at least a couple more minutes of squeaking, ticklish Caduceus and she’s going to enjoy every single one of them.

“Oh, dear,” someone says, unexpectedly close. Beau whips around to see Caduceus’ mom, holding a whole tray of mismatched teacups and looking like she’s desperately trying not to laugh.

Caduceus’ ears twitch. “MOM,” he wails. “SAVE ME, I’M GONNA DIE.”

She does laugh then, a little misty-eyed, and juggles the tray so she can prop a hand on her hip. “Calliope, Clarabelle, be nice to your brother,” she chides. “He came a long way to find us.”

“But he blinded us!” Clarabelle tattles, painfully earnest even as she grins from ear to ear. “He hasn’t even said sorry yet!”

“Clarabelle Clay.”

Beau’s spine locks up in instant parental-dissatisfaction panic, but Clarabelle just laughs and echoes back “Mo-oom,” before moving her hands and sprawling forward onto her brother. Calliope stops too, with one last dig into his back that inspires a final agonized wiggle, and sits back on her hands triumphantly as Caduceus wheezes and scrambles up to safety.

Beau rocks to her feet, sticking her hands in her pockets, and takes in the full glory of a seven-foot-tall firbolg doing his level best to hide behind his mother. Clarabelle and Calliope get up too and grab their tea, the former sticking her tongue out as Caduceus peeks at her with narrowed eyes.

“If you two are done,” Caduceus’ mom says firmly, “it looks like there are still vegetables that need attending to.”

“Oh, yeah,” Calliope says, and fixes Clarabelle with a look.

“Yeah!” Clarabelle echoes, looking innocently back.

She yelps as Calliope drags her away. Beau shuffles her feet for a moment as Caduceus’ mom turns to her. “Uh - if some of those are for us, I can take them - I know you guys probably want your time alone-”

Caduceus ducks a little further down, and his mom laughs again. “Oh, dear, you can stay as long as you like, but these will be better hot.”

“Got it.” Beau smirks up at Caduceus. “I have to go talk to Jester, anyway.”

She grabs the tray and speed-walks back across the room, barely hearing Caduceus’ hurried “I’ll go help her” before his heavier footsteps echo behind. If it were Fjord or Caleb she’d channel her ki to beat him handily back to the others, but, well - he doesn’t deserve it, really.

He’s walking fast, anyway - once she slows down, it’s only a couple seconds before she can feel his warm presence at her side.

He holds a hand out for the tray. “Don’t tell them.”

Beau looks at him then, still smug, and grimaces. “Oh, Duceus, you’ve got something on your face.”

He makes a face and wipes at his running nose with his sleeve, still trying to catch his breath. “Don’t tell them,” he says again. “I mean, they’ll find out eventually, and none of you are as mean as Calliope so it’ll be okay, but - please.”

She pretends to think it over. “I don’t know, I think your sister’s kind of great.”

Caduceus sighs heavily. “I’m not surprised.”

“I won’t tell them.” She does reach over to nudge at his spine though, expertly balancing the tray, and laughs as he squirms away from her. “You have to… make tea for me every night though. For a week.”

Caduceus blinked. “I already do that, you asked me to.”

“Which is exactly why I’m not gonna rat you out, Caduceus. You’re just a little bit less of an asshole than the rest of us.”

Caduceus looks - surprisingly pleased, at that. Beau tells herself it’s more about the prospect of not having Jester try to jump him every morning than her approval. “I appreciate it.”

Beau hands the tray over and crosses her arms, looking up at him. “You don’t really mind though, do you? Seems weird that you’d keep getting all of us, if you did.”

He shrugs. “I don’t, it’s just- it’s different around family. They already know everything about me.”

That jealousy sneaks out onto her tongue, quick and bitter, before she realizes it. “Well, I wouldn’t know.”

Beau looks away then, speeding up to get ahead of him. She manages to take a single step before something tickles at the back of her armpit and she nearly drops all of her stuff.

She curses and whirls around. “Caduceus!”

He looks evenly back at her. “Yeah, you would.”

It takes a second to connect the conversational thread, but she can’t help but smile once she does. “Thanks, Caduceus.”

He smiles back. “You’re welcome.”

“Deal’s off though,” she quips, and before he can react she’s sprinting down the hallway as fast as she can.

She’s not going to tell on him, but for tickling her? He’s gonna have to chase her down if he wants to make sure.

[heavenlyhaechan]

The Pursuit of Happiness

Pairing: Ten x Gn!Reader 

Genre: strangers to friends to lovers au, fluff, a teensy tiny itty bitty basically nonexistent bit of angst, 

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: very brief mentions of stress, 

Rating: PG 

Note: happy birthday ten!!! 

The day was bright and sunny, which inconveniently contradicted your mood. You wouldn’t have to be outside for long though you reminded yourself, just long enough to get a net of clementines from the co-op down the street. This small bit of happiness would have to be enough to hold you over until finals were finished and you could finally breathe again. 

The bell on the door jingled merrily, another offensive clash with your mood. You headed straight for the produce section, your eyes watching your feet as they moved you forward. You knew your way around this little shop so well you were sure you could find what you wanted with your eyes closed. 

When you saw the last net of clementines sitting on the old wood shelf, the blue of the net complimenting the bright orange fruit, your heart leaped. Well maybe not leaped, but certainly sat up a little straighter. Your hand reached for them, but just before your fingertips could brush the netted plastic it was being snatched away by a quicker shopper. 

Your heart sunk again as you looked up to meet the eyes of the clementine stealer. His dark bangs fell into his eyes and down his neck, and a mole stared at you from under his left eye. He looked a bit confused which only proceeded to aggravate the indignation now building in your chest. 

“Uhhh,” he began, eyes moving back and forth from you to the clementines in his hand. 

“I’ll pay you for them,” you interrupted him, hands rummaging in your pockets for your wallet. 

“No no it’s okay,” he shook his head emphatically. “You can just have them.” 

It was then that you were reminded of the way you’d left your residence, half asleep after a three-hour nap that had been proceeded by your third all-nighter this week. You were in the same clothes you’d been wearing yesterday, wrinkled no doubt, with circles that made you resemble a raccoon imprinted under your eyes. 

And yet if the sympathy of this stranger meant that you got your treasured clementines, then you couldn’t complain. 

“Okay,” you took them from him. “Thank you.�� 

“Sure,” he nodded amicably. “Just know that you owe me.” 

——

“Wow, there’s a lot of people here,” you said to Yuta as you took your seats. Nearly every chair in the auditorium had already been taken and people were still filing in through the double doors that led to the lobby. 

“For good reason,” he told you as he leaned back in his seat. “They’re really good.” 

You had agreed to go with him to see his friend Sicheng and his dance company perform a while ago, so long that it had almost escaped your mind today. You supposed it was a good thing that Yuta never failed to give you countless reminders for everything in your life, from a project due to an event that you had promised to attend with him months ago. 

Just as you began to flip through the program in your lap the lights in the audience went down only to be replaced by a single spotlight. A man appeared from the side of the stage to announce the upcoming performance before disappearing backstage once more. 

The dark and silence that followed made you feel like the entire audience was holding their breath. Then the red velvet curtain parted and the show began. 

——

You clung to Yuta’s arm so as not to lose him in the crowd as you wove your way through the lobby to the door marked with a neon exit sign. He had agreed to meet Sicheng outside after the performance and so there you waited, hands stuffed in your pockets to ward off the winter chill. 

Soon enough a chattering group exited the building, their stage makeup looking comical under the light of the streetlamps. 

“Sicheng!” Yuta cried as his friend emerged from within their midst to greet him. You laughed to yourself at the modest and faintly embarrassed expression on his face as Yuta began to talk his ear off about the intricacies of the show you’d just watched. 

Leaning against the brick wall of the building you watched as people hugged each other goodbye, feeling oddly out of place. Then you were met with the sight of a familiar face with a familiar mole under the left eye. 

“I’m pretty sure you owe me,” he said as he leaned against the wall next to you. 

“Oh, you were serious?” 

“Of course.” 

You stared him down, waiting for him to waver. But he didn’t. Instead, he just smiled at you like you were an old friend, someone who he had shared tubs of popcorn with and borrowed a towel from after a summer day spent in the pool. 

You felt entrapped in his gaze, but it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling. His eyes were warm and comfortable like a rare spot of sun on the wood floor in winter. It wasn’t exactly a staring contest you were partaking in, but you still didn’t want to be the first to look away. 

“I don’t even know your name,” you finally conceded. 

“Ten,” he said simply, reaching out a hand to shake. 

You told him your name and he repeated it back to you, rolling the foreign syllables around on his tongue like they were peas fresh out of the pod. Your name, something so mundane after hearing it so many times, sounded fresh and beautiful coming from him. 

“So how about you buy me an ice cream cone to pay off your debt.” 

“It’s too cold for ice cream.” 

“It’s never too cold for ice cream,” he said cheekily before turning to say goodbye to his friends. 

You stepped forward as well to let Yuta know where you were going, and after an affirmation from Sicheng that Ten wasn’t a creep, he let you go with a promise that you’d text him when you got home. 

——

“So what’d you think of the performance?” Ten asked you before taking a bite of his green tea ice cream. 

You shuddered at the sight, gums cringing in phantom pain. He tilted his head like a cat would at your actions, and you quickly had to explain that it was aimed at him biting his ice cream, not at the performance. 

“It was amazing,” you said after the miscommunication had been cleared up. 

“Yeah?” 

“Mm.” 

Your mind drifted off for a moment as you relived the contents of the show you’d just watched. Some songs had been slow, strange, and hypnotizing. Others were much more upbeat, the energy in the room making you feel like you could fly up into the rafters of the grand auditorium. 

“What about me?” Ten asked, successfully jolting you from your fond remembering. 

“Huh?” 

“What do you think about me?” 

You smiled at the cheshire grin on his face, noticed the way his eyes twinkled with mischief. To yourself you thought, I think I’d like to see more of those eyes, but out loud you said: 

“I think I’d like to get to know you better.” 

——

Months passed and you did exactly that, got to know each other better. You learned that Ten actually hated fruit and that he had only wanted to buy the clementines for his roommate, the aforementioned Sicheng. You saw firsthand how hard he worked, how creativity ran through his veins in place of blood and leaked out of his pores in place of sweat. 

You quickly learned that he shared your affinity for coffee and so, since you only lived a few blocks away from each other, much of your time was spent haunting the local coffee shop. It was there that he told you of his home back in Thailand and of his family and friends there, as well as the story of how he started dancing. 

He talked a lot if you let him, but you didn’t mind. He was fascinating to listen to and to watch. Time and time again you found yourself sinking into the depths of his eyes as you listened, bathing in their warmth. 

He caught you doing just that a few times more than you’d like, laughing kindheartedly at your embarrassment before starting back up again where he had left off. He was always kind, even when he teased you for the purple butterfly sticker you bought to place over your laptop camera. 

“You watch too many crime movies,” he’d said before letting out an exaggerated yelp when you’d punched him in the arm. 

Tonight you were watching yet another crime movie on that same laptop, your blankets creating a nest for you to rest in. Ten sat next to you, his fingers braiding the loose strings on the side of one of those very blankets. Every now and then he would look up to watch you, barely remembering to pay any attention to the movie. 

Your brow creased as you focused on the crime detailed in the film, your eyes wide and reflecting the screen at him. Your shoulders were hunched in and for a moment he wondered whether it was from the cold. This made him realize how cold it was in your living room, despite all of the blankets, and so he slipped an arm around you until you were pulled up against his side and sharing his body heat. 

You jumped in response to his actions, almost crying out from surprise after being so engrossed in the movie before you. 

“Sorry, I thought you were cold,” he said quietly. 

“Oh. It’s okay,” you decided, not wanting to admit how comfortable he was and how nice he smelled. 

“Okay,” he said, moving his arm into a more comfortable position. You jumped again but for a different reason this time. 

“Sorry I-” he started to retract his arm. 

“No, it’s okay I just-” 

“Wait,” he cut you off, his trademark grin growing and filling you with anticipation. “Are you ticklish?” 

“No,” you said quickly, maybe too quickly. 

He let out a giggle and poked your side to test his theory. You jumped a third time, pushing him away in annoyance. But now he was laughing outright and you couldn’t help but laugh with him, any momentary exasperation disappearing as the golden sound poured out of your throats. 

The two of you sat there laughing for far too long and simultaneously not long enough, movie long forgotten. You hadn’t laughed like that since you were a kid, that exhilarating feeling where anything and everything is truly hysterical. 

Eventually, you lapsed from breathless giggles into giddy smiles. As Ten watched you, his heart still pounding like a drum in his chest, he had a rare moment of clarity. 

“I like you.” 

Once he came to the realization it wasn’t something he had to think about saying out loud. Why shouldn't you know? You were the only one that he cared to tell after all. 

“Like like?” you asked despite how childish you felt. 

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “Like like.” 

Your lips parted in surprise at his words, eyelashes fluttering like butterfly wings. 

“You don’t have to say it back if you don’t want to,” he said matter of factly. “I told you so you’d know, not so you’d say it back.” 

The corners of your mouth turned up against your will as you stared down at your hands where they rested in your lap. You realized then how easily smiling came to you since you’d met him. How easily happiness came. You no longer had to convince yourself that your small pleasures and indulgences were happiness, for in the time since you’d met Ten you had simply begun to believe it. 

“I like you too.” 

“Really?” his eyes lit up as he looked at you, mouth curving into a newborn smile. 

“Really.” 

[cjtheghost-14]

After All These Years - Leo Valdez x Reader

Requests: None

Notes: For my first fanfiction I knew I had to do something for my favorite character in the world, Leo Valdez!

Summary: Years ago when you ran away from your dysfunctional family, you met Leo Valdez and quickly fell in love. But, it was not to be. You were torn apart from each other and theres a part of you that never recovered. Years later you live at Camp Half-Blood, being best friends with the legendary Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase. When Percy goes missing the hole Leo left only grows, and when 3 mysterious demigods appear you are suspicious. But then you see Leo. 

Warnings:  Mental Abuse, Swearing, Angst,Depression, Dysfunctional Families, and tons of Fluff.

       Your boots hit the leaf ridden ground silently. Your heart pounding through your chest as you reposition your back pack on your shoulders. You take one last look at your old beaten down and paint chipped house before directing your attention to the path ahead of you. It was pitch black outside, save for the porch light leaking into the darkness beyond. You didn’t know what kind of creatures dwelled in the forest in front of you, but at this point it didn’t matter. After so many years of almost unbearable mental abuse from your (mortal parent), you were finally running away. The only destination in your mind was away. Away from this house of horrors. Away into the great beyond. It was edging into late fall now so you made sure to wear a coat, and pack a few spares too, along with rations, money, and water. You had to refrain from swiping your (mortal parents)’s credit card too, as those cards can be easily tracked. If theres one thing you didn’t want, it would be to come back to this house. 

You take one last deep breath, sucking in the cold night air, before suddenly sprinting away into the woods. Your feet crunch down on the dead leaves as you run. The farther away from the house you get the better you feel, so you speed up, darting through the trees in the dark. A soft laugh escapes your lips. It’s a sound you haven't heard yourself make in years, but the feeling is exhilarating. You laugh again, this time louder. The laughter fills your veins with pure bliss. It’s the happiest you’ve ever been. 

At least, until your boot snags on a tree root, sending you flying forward into the darkness. You put your hands in front of your face, bracing yourself for impact. You hit the ground hard, skidding through the fallen leaves. Then suddenly the ground isn’t there anymore. Your arms fly out and grab a root, sticking out of the cold earth. You look around and realize you're hanging out over a sinkhole. A strangled cry rips through your lungs as you see how deep it goes. The sensible thing to do is calm down and climb out, but your limbs are numb from the cold and the terror. Tears well up in your eyes as your life flashes before you. Your (mortal parent) always blamed you for your (godly parent) leaving, and made it known to the world. You never had a normal life, or a good one for that matter.

 Your hand starts slipping on the root but you're too distracted to notice. Then your cold fingers finally slip off of the root, but before you can fall you feel a warm hand wrap around your wrist. They pull you up and over the ledge of the sinkhole. You immediately stand up and stumble away from the edge, ensuring your safety. Then your eyes drift over to your savior, who’s holding a battery powered lantern that lights up the surrounding area. It’s a Latino boy your age, wearing a grease smeared army jacket. He has wild unruly black curly hair, pointed ears, warm brown eyes, and a mischievous grin creeping up onto his face.  

“That would have been quite the fall, huh?” He says.

“Yeah, I saw my life flash before my eyes.” You say, jokingly making a grimace. 

He chuckles and you smile at his reaction. You had always hid your pain behind humor, and it was an excellent strategy. It was also a plus to make others laugh when you could never yourself. 

“That bad? I can relate, that’s why I’m running away for the…” He trails off, silently counting before saying, “Third time, I think? I’m pretty much an expert by now. Now, what is a cutie like you doing out here?”

You blush slightly and reply with, “Same as you, running away. Except this is my first time.”

“Well…” He says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Since this is your first time and all, how about we stick together? I could show you the ropes.”

You think about it for a moment. Although, what is there to really think about? He seems trustworthy, and it doesn’t hurt that he’s incredibly handsome. “You know what? Let’s do it.”

His eyes widen, “W-woah, really? I didn’t really expect you to say yes.” Then his face splits into a giant grin, “My names Leo Valdez, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m (Y/N) (L/N).”

“Well, let me lead you to my campsite, mi princesa.” At that he takes your hand and starts to lead you through the dark forest. 

***

It had been a few weeks since you had met Leo Valdez, and those weeks had been the best weeks of your life. You had become best friends with him fairly quickly. He was just so funny, cute, and selfless. He had opened up to you about his past and his mother and in turn you opened up to him about your past. At this point he knew more about you than even your (mortal parent). You had to admit, you were falling in love with him. 

You were planning on telling him tonight, huddling around your nightly campfire. Your thoughts were interrupted by Leo finally getting the fire started and sitting next to you on the ground. You lean your head on his shoulder and he wraps his arms around you. The days were progressively getting colder and you two needed to keep warm so cuddling turned into a habit.  

“Hey, Leo?” You ask timidly.

“Yeah, mi princesa?” He responds. 

Leo had started using that name for you constantly. You secretly liked it, but every time he called you that you would simply say ‘stuff it, Valdez’. It was like a inside joke, and you loved it. You’ve never had a relationship like that with someone.

“I-I think I love you.” You say, deciding not to beat around the bush.

He immediately grabs your shoulders and spins you around to look at him. “(Y/N) please tell me this is one of your stupid ass jokes.” 

You scoff, “My jokes are better than yours, asshole.”

“So this really isn’t a joke?” He whispers.

You smile softly, “Not a joke.”

“I love you too.” He says.

He starts to lean down but freezes when sirens start. A group of policemen run into the clearing and yell, “There they are! It’s the runaways!” Before you can even get up off of the ground they pull you and Leo by your arms, leading you to separate squad cars. Your eyes widen as you yell, “Leo!”

Leo struggles against the policeman, but to no avail. “(Y/N)! I’ll find you! Don’t worry, I’ll got to the ends of the earth to fi-” He’s cut off when he’s thrown into he back of a police car. 

“Leo!” You yell again before your thrown into a police car yourself.

Years Later

You sit alone under a tree in Camp Half-Blood, mulling over your thoughts and memories as you stare off into space. You weren’t a fan of being left alone with your thoughts, but your best friend Percy was missing and Annabeth was out looking for him, leaving you by yourself. Your thoughts immediately wander back to Leo, making tears well up in your eyes. Leo still hasn’t found you and you haven't found him, and it was eating you up from the inside out. To this day you haven't had a bond with anyone like you had one with Leo. Sure, you helped save the world with Percy and Annabeth but it wasn't the same.

  After you were pulled apart from Leo, you where sent back to your (mortal parent) and the mental abuse only got worse. It wasn’t until a satyr told you that you were a demigod and took you to Camp Half-Blood that you were finally safe. But as the years went by you developed depression, missing Leo with everything you had. You only occasionally smiled at Percy being an idiot, but that was it. These past few months you've barely talked to anyone though. If missing Leo wasn’t enough, now Percy is missing and Annabeth is hysterical. You could barely keep on going. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of screaming. Your head snaps up as you see a chariot sailing through the sky. No, not sailing...falling. Your eyes widen as you realize it’s Annabeth’s chariot. You jump to your feet as you see it crash into the pond. You immediately sprint down to the crash site where others had already gathered.  

Annabeth is standing there soaking wet and looking frustrated while 3 other figures climb out of the pond. You slow down as you watch each of them emerge from the water. First is a girl, with feathers braided into her hair. Next is a boy with blonde hair that honestly looks...really bland. Your heart stops as you see the next person climb out.  It’s a Latino boy your age, wearing a grease smeared army jacket. He has wild unruly black curly hair, pointed ears and warm brown eyes. It’s Leo. Your Leo.

You audibly gasp, making heads turn to look at you. “Leo?!”

Leo scans the crowd, looking a little confused until his eyes land on you. His eyes widen, “(Y/N)?!”

Then you both simultaneously sprint towards each other, knocking over anyone in your way. Leo slows down as he draws closer but you speed up, slamming into him and knocking him over on to the grass. You start sobbing as you look into Leo’s eyes, which tears are welling up in too. 

“I can’t believe it’s you...” Leo whispers.

“I can’t believe it’s you either...Leo, I’ve missed you so much!” You say. Seeing Leo made it feel like a giant burden was lifted of off your shoulders. Seeing him made you feel complete. 

“I looked for you,” He says. “I ran away again and tried to find you but I couldn’t. (Y/N), I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. We’re together again that’s all that matters.” You say, smiling softly. 

He stares at you lovingly, his eyes drifting down to your lips. Then he kisses you. The feeling was something you’ve never experienced but it felt so right. You kiss back eagerly, running your hands through his curly hair. A series of Awwws sound throughout the camp. You pull back and smile. Leo is blushing like mad but smiles back. 

“Wait, this is the Leo?” Annabeth asks. 

You had told Annabeth all about Leo, but now you were regretting it. A bright red blush creeps up onto your face. 

“He’s kinda scrawny.” She comments.

You and Leo look at each other. A smirk appears on your face. “She’s gotta point there Valdez.”

A mischievous grin appears on his face. “At least I don’t tell stupid ass jokes, mi princesa.”

[mikrowrites]

lost

John B x sister!reader, JJ Maybank x reader

summary: Y/N Routledge looses everything to the sea.

warnings: angst, major character death (but not really *wink*)

a/n: how dare outer banks steal my heart like this!

Y/N had once been scared of the ocean.

When she was five years old John B was so excited to teach her how to surf. The six year old boy was a natural, and had convinced their father to allow him to teach Y/N.

They both sat on a board, the waves bobbing them up and down. John B paddled with her as they dove under a wave together, coming up to stand as he held Y/N’s hand in his. After a steady surf off the wave, they suddenly were flung backwards, off the board and into the churning sea.

Y/N’s lungs burned with salt water, the currents pulling her back under as her limbs flailed, gasping in the seconds she emerged from the surface. She could briefly hear the shouts of her brother and father until they were muffled by the deep blue waters as she screamed.

Suddenly a pair of strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her up and onto a board, Y/N coughing up water as warm hands guided her onto her side.

“That’s it, sweetheart, you’re okay. I’ve got you.” “Big John” Routledge reassured his daughter, pulling her shaking and crying form into his chest.

John B had apologized profusely and cried for hours, but Big John was sure to calm him down and Y/N made sure to show she was fine.

But ocean scared her for some years.

Once the HMS Pogue was acquired when Y/N was 13, she began to warm up to the waters that surrounded her home. JJ Maybank had been an extraordinary surf instructor and John B loved hauling in fish with his sister.

Y/N prided herself on straying from the annoying little sister stereotype. Sure, she and John B would ruffle each other’s feathers from time to time, but they were thick as thieves. Others would assume they were twins without prior knowledge. John B was the brawn and Y/N was the brains. However, a few unlucky kooks learned not to get in a scramble with her.

And Y/N adored her father. He wasn’t always present and was obsessed with the Royal Merchant, but she was a daddy’s girl through and through. She would brew his favorite coffee in the morning, walking into his office where nine times out of ten he was passed out exhausted, his head rested on his desk. Y/N would set the mug on the usual coaster, brush his messy hair aside and kiss his forehead, before closing the door behind her.

Kiera had been a best friend in a time Y/N needed one most. Big John and John B were clueless when it came to “girl stuff”, and Kie was there to be a sister to the girl. How to braid, tame, and cut Y/N’s wild hair, the right amount of mascara needed, a quiet tampon distributer, Kie was there to teach her and pass knowledge onto Y/N’s oblivious brother.

Pope always extended help towards the girl for homework and studying. Y/N made an effort to maintain her grades and would always make Pope smoothies every time he helped her. Y/N would do grocery runs with him to make some spare cash while John B worked on Mr. Cameron’s boat.

And then there was JJ. Ever since the scrappy blonde entered her life, Y/N found herself close to him. He taught her to surf, roll and hit a joint, to ride a dirt bike. JJ was the one who enabled her against John B and Big John’s wishes. Y/N wouldn’t lie that she harbored a crush towards the boy, but would never, ever, admit it.

So of course her heart beat faster as JJ wrapped his arm around Y/N’s shoulders. The girl was shaking, but she couldn’t quite pinpoint if it was the cold stormy air or the fear.

Yes, maybe it was fear.

The fear that ripped through her chest at the sight of John B’s bloodstained hands, how she anxiously hoped for him to evade the police. The fear that squeezed her heart as she embraced her brother so very tight, before he and the Phantom pulled away from the dock.

John B and Sarah Cameron were out there in the storm, and Y/N was so incredibly scared.

The thunder boomed and the tent walls flapped in the wind as the four pogues sat in uncomfortable plastic chairs, waiting to hear what was next. JJ had begun rolling circles on Y/N’s shoulder, whispering sweet assurances in her ear.

“Your brother knows how to sail a storm.”

“They’re probably in Mexico by now!”

“Drinking Piña Coladas on the beach.”

“The Phantom’s gonna get them there, she will.”

Y/N looked up to see three police officers emerge into the tent in neon raincoats, eyeing the teens with a sad look.

She knew that look. She knew it all too well.

Y/N was sitting on the porch strumming her ukulele, looking out at the marshes as the sun rose. John B was out with JJ getting breakfast, and Y/N smiled at the thought of the touristy food at The Wreck.

She was pulled out of her thoughts by a soft knock on the screen door. Y/N turned her head to see Peterkin leaning on the doorway. “You’re getting real good at playing that, Y/N.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Y/N politely responded, smiling nervously. “Is everything okay?”

Peterkin sighed, stepping over to Y/N and sitting in a chair across from her. “No honey, it’s not. Is your brother here?”

Y/N sat up, laying the ukulele aside. “No, he’s... out—why? Did he do something? I swear, if he got into a fight, he was defending himself—“

“No, Y/N. It’s not about your brother.” Peterkin sighed, leaning forward in the chair. “I suggest we wait for him, thought. I don’t want you to hear this alone.”

Luckily John B and JJ turned up about 10 minutes later, the two boys shouting as they ran up the wooden stairs with boxes of food. John B halted in his tracks at the sight of his sister nervously sitting on the couch and Peterkin sitting across from her. The police officer turned over her shoulder. “Hey, John B. Come sit with us.”

The boy nodded, loading all the food into JJ’s arms as he ushered him inside, John B turning and sitting next to his sister.

And Peterkin gave them that look. The glint of the eye, a sagged demeanor, that deep frown.

It was pity.

“Your father has gone missing. He is presumed lost at sea.”

Y/N stood before any of the other pogues could, walked up to the police. She couldn’t force a single world to spill from her lips, she just looked at them desperately.

Officer Shoupe looked a the young girl. Out of the two Routledge kids, Y/N was always the peacemaker. He knew her by that, so much like her gentle father.

Shoupe rested his hand on her shoulder, turning to the three other teens who had now gathered closer. “Did you find them?” Pope questioned.

The officer sighed, squeezing Y/N’s shoulder. “No.”

“So they got away?” Kiara implored them to elaborate, JJ turning to look at Y/N, who kept her gaze fixed on Shoupe.

Shoupe looked to the other two police officers before in a grave voice responded:

“We lost them. I’m sorry.”

Y/N felt like someone had punched her in the stomach. Like the wind had suddenly escaped her lungs. The word “lost” echoing in her head.

“Lost”, like her father had been.

“Lost”, like her brother was.

Her ears began to ring, the noise around her dulling. Y/N’s eyes shifted over Shoupe’s shoulder, staring at the raging sea. The officer was saying something to her, but it fell on deaf ears.

Around her Kie, Pope, and JJ broke down, mourning the loss of their friend, their families entering the tent to help ease their sadness.

Y/N couldn’t hear the sobs, just the words, “lost, lost, lost”. It was when Shoupe removed his hand from her shoulder everything came back like a slap to the face. Her faculties returned and overwhelmed her. The thunder and pounding rain, the hysterical sobs of her friends, Y/N’s own heartbeat.

She noticed JJ attempting to fight the cops, screaming at them and accusing them. Y/N felt a lump rise in her throat, unsure if she needed to throw up or scream.

JJ had been pulled away and brought into an embrace by Pope’s family, and that’s when it clicked to Y/N. She looked at the Heywards, then to the Carreras, and her lips began to tremble. Her chest heaved for air as she watched the families grieve.

Because now, who would be there to grieve with her?

Y/N’s family was dead. Her family was lost.

Her knees connected with the ground, the girl hunched over as the first sob ripped from her throat. Y/N grasped her arms, eyes squeezed shut as tears began to drip down her cheeks.

JJ felt his blood run cold when he heard her scream.

He turned away from the Heywards, immediately running over to Y/N and sliding on the ground, gathering her up in his arms and hugging her so incredibly tight. Fuck, why hadn’t he thought of her? Why hadn’t he comforted her before trying to start a fight with Shoupe?

Y/N screamed into his shirt, gripping the material in her hands. JJ rested his chin on her head, looking up at Kiara and Pope who were still embracing their families.

JJ let himself be selfish for a moment, thinking “lucky for them to have family to cry to”. He was brought back to reality by Y/N sobbing something, the boy looking down at her in confusion. “What was that?”

Y/N heaved a few heavy breaths, her voice heavy with heartache. She repeated the same word over and over, JJ feeling a new bout of tears welling up in his eyes as he pulled her closer.

“Lost.”

[bonjour-rainycity]

Double Heart | Chapter Four ~ Cosima

|previous part|

Pairing: Haldir x OFC

Rating: PG

Word count: 4887

Warnings: None

**Read on Ao3 under the user “bonjour_rainycity” if you prefer!**

A/n Thanks for all your interactions with this story! In honor of all the writing I got done for the World Wide Write-a-thon, here’s a bonus chapter :) 

Translations: Mellon = friend

Haldir wasn’t kidding. In order to make up for the time spent with Alex, he pushes us hard. That, combined with the unfamiliar gait of Rumil’s horse, leaves me sore and aching by the time we finally stop well after dark.

Rumil helps me to the ground, giving me an apologetic look. “Sorry.”

I wave off his concerns, starting my stretching routine. “S’alright. I’ll probably get used to the all-day riding the second we get to Imladris.”

At this, he cracks a smile. “If you want to wash in the river, better go now. I’ll take dinner to Alex.”

I shouldn’t leave Alex alone. But my body aches and is covered in dirt, and a part of me just isn’t ready to face him. I need to take a moment for myself, away from everyone else, to process and think about what all this means. So I skirt around the hill that marks camp and head to the riverbank.

I undress and wade into the river, stopping when the cool water comes to my shoulders. Baranor had supplied me with an extra bar of soap and I use that to cleanse my body and hair of the dirt that attached itself to me during the day. At the top of the hill that overlooks the river, I catch sight of Alex, sitting isolated near the pile of bags that indicate our spot of camp. I purse my lips.

What does his presence mean?

I had been quite convinced that this world is in my head, that I’m concocting some elaborate, possibly lucid, dream and that I would wake up any minute. Or, perhaps, that I had hit my head like Baranor suggested and am now in some sort of coma. But now Alex is here. The memories I have of him clearly show that he’s important to me. I can recall a long line of birthday parties, study breaks, summer camping trips spent staring up at the sky. I remember him comforting me after a bad day, us getting into arguments and then making up, me cheering him on at some sort of competition. But when I try to look at the other faces there, to zero in on any one and pull up memories of them, all I get is a vague blur and a splitting headache. I give up the fruitless effort and turn my thoughts back to Alex.

Alex, who I know I know, is just as real to me as Haldir or Baranor. And each man here acts in a way that I wouldn’t expect — if I created them, wouldn’t they act as I would? I am not stoic like Haldir or silly like Rumil. I don’t posses Baranor’s healing knowledge or Orophin’s attention to detail. And just the sheer vastness of this world…there’s no way I could imagine it all. Even now, we follow a path of which I have no knowledge, so how could I have dreamed up that path?

The ache behind my eyes deepens.

This is too much.

This world feels real. The people feel real. My budding friendships with them feel real—just as real as my friendship with Alex.

I groan, flipping on my back to float.

And I lose the ability to breathe. Because these constellations aren’t the ones I remember. They dance in unfamiliar patterns across the inky black sky, distant and watchful as always, but completely unknown to me.

I love the stars. I love them in a way that causes my heart to ache, that sometimes makes me weep. Night after night I sought them out, charting them by telescopes and my naked eye. I know my constellations like I know the back of my hand—I studied and tracked them relentlessly.

I wouldn’t have replaced my stars.

I release a shaky breath.

A cold dread creeps through my bones, turning the water frigid. Everything suddenly seems more predatory, more dangerous, from the tall grass on the bank to the trees far in the distance….Even the men I travel with.

For one, wild moment, I entertain the idea that they are exactly who they say they are — elves from some unknown realm. Elves, not men. Elves who have pointed ears and wear intricate braids and walk with a grace I could never hope to imitate. Elves who can see far into the distance, hear every comment I make under my breath, ride for hours without tiring, and draw their weapons in less than a second, using reflexes that far outmatch mine.

Elves who inhabit a world that has a foreign set of stars.

The water that brushes against my neck feels suffocating. Gasping, I swim to shore, pulling myself onto the riverbank. It takes me multiple tries to redress, and I realize that my hands are shaking—I am shaking. I collapse into the grass, drawing in heaving breaths. This is too much, this is too much, this is too much!

“Cosima.”

My name comes from over the hill.

It’s Haldir’s voice.

In the beats of silence that follow, all I can hear is my wavering breath.

He calls my name again, closer this time.

I squeeze my eyes tightly shut, concentrating on the sound of his voice. Solid, assured, stable. Everything I do not feel. My breath begins to even out. My shaking subsides. The sound of grass crunching underfoot reaches my ears, and I stand just in time to meet Haldir’s approach.

He settles his weight on his back foot to balance on the slope of the hill, giving me a stern look. “We lost sight of you.”

I stiffen, pulling back from him. “Were you watching me bathe?”

His eyes blow wide. “N-no! Of course not, I-I would not presume to—” I’ve never seen him look so out of sorts. The tips of his—pointed—ears burn red and his eyes dart wildly around looking anywhere but at me.

The sight is so at odds with what I know about him that I can’t help it.

I burst into laughter.

It’s a little hysterical, and maybe I’m crying a bit, but it feels so good to laugh. Haldir lets out a noise that sounds suspiciously like a sigh of relief, and chuckles hesitantly. It rumbles deep in his chest, sounding almost warm. I wipe the tears from my eyes, shaking my head slowly. As the laughter subsides, I study him, taking in everything that marks him as clearly not human.

He feels real.

I pull my gaze from his braids and instead settle on his ice blue eyes. They stare evenly into mine, perhaps studying me too. A wind blows over the river, reminding me just how much I long for my mat and blanket. The fatigue once again makes itself known—much worse after my panic on the riverbank. I shift on my feet, gesturing up the hill. “I think I’m overly tired.”

Haldir inclines his head in acknowledgment, clasping his hands professionally behind his back. “Understandable, given the day you’ve had. I will escort you back.”

I trudge up the hill, concentrating extra hard to not slip in the mud and ruin the bath I just had, Haldir not far behind. We reach the top of the hill and make our way to where the bags are laid out as well as dinner rations distributed.

Alex sits by himself.

He raises his head, his smile of greeting turning to a scowl the moment Haldir crests the hill behind me. He looks past me, addressing Haldir only. “What were you doing with her down there?”

I feel Haldir bristle and once again hurry to de-escalate. “It’s fine, Alex. He only came to get me because I was gone for a while.”

He shrugs, the action seeming jerky and unnatural. “I could have gone to get you.”

I turn and give Haldir a look of apology. I honestly don’t know why Alex doesn’t like him, they haven’t even had a proper conversation. Haldir watches Alex intently, his own mouth set into a hard line. Then, saying nothing, he stalks forward, leaving us alone.

I groan, bringing a hand to my forehead. “They’re not going to hurt me. They’re not going to hurt you, either.”

Alex shakes his head resolutely. “I don’t trust them.”

“You haven’t given them a chance!”

My words—louder than they’d needed to be—ring through the countryside, destroying the peaceful silence.

I sigh, berating myself for once again treating him too harshly. He’s owed the time he needs to adjust. Tentatively, I take a seat across from him. “I’m sorry. I know it’s a lot to take in. It took me a little while to get comfortable with them, too, you’ll—”

“No, Cosima,” he groans, cutting me off. “There is no ‘getting used to them’, there’s no ‘learning to trust them’. They’re delusional. They’re dangerous. We can’t let our guard down and get caught up in that. We have to focus on finding a way home.”

I rest my chin on my hands, feeling overwhelmed and exhausted. Something in his sentence reminds me of the conversation I had with myself in the river. Maybe he’s been thinking along similar lines. “Alex, if you’re talking about getting home, then you believe this place is real.”

He squints, raising an eyebrow. “Of course it’s real. There’s no way we’re both making it up. We’re probably in the plains of Africa or-or maybe somewhere in Europe, I don’t really know. The point is, these guys are lying to us. They’re trying to keep us confused and isolated. We need to stay sharp and look for an opportunity to escape.”

“Escape,” I breathe, definitely not wanting the others to hear our conversation. “Have you seen the land we’re traveling? With no supplies, no horses, no maps—we wouldn’t last two days.” Never mind the fact that just a few days ago, I was considering escape, myself.

“We’ll steal supplies then.” He shrugs, passion alighting his eyes. “It doesn’t matter—we’ll figure it out. In the meantime, learn as much about these guys and the landscape as you can and stop letting them try to convince you that they’re a fictional species. I’ll work on taking supplies. Then, when we have enough, we’ll leave.”

I shake my head slowly. Something about leaving, about separating myself from the group and striking out on our own feels wrong. Every survival instinct I have screams at me to stay put, to not abandon the safety net I found by chance. And a voice in the back of my head reminds me that if I’m seeing different stars…if I am under a different sky…well, then maybe there is no going home. I try to reason with him. “They haven’t tried to hurt us yet. They’ve given us their food, their water, allowed us to ride their horses. They’re helping us!”

He rolls his eyes, clearly about to interrupt.

“Just—go along with it until we reach Imladris,” I beg, holding up my hands to silence him. “Then at least we’ll have seen more of the landscape and will know what we’re dealing with. Maybe there will be supplies in the city that we can take, or even someone with knowledge of how to get back to America.”

He grits his teeth. “You need to stop playing into their lies.”

The two of us stare at each other, equally unwilling to back down.

Rumil appears at the top of the hill, smiling broadly. Either he’s oblivious to our argument or trying to diffuse it. He sets a bedroll at my feet. “For you.”

I look between the mat and Rumil, feeling quite guilty. There are only four bedrolls between the six of us now, and I’ve slept soundly on one for every night of my journey. I don’t deserve that…especially now that I’m thinking of robbing and abandoning them. My stomach churns. “Thanks, but I’m fine on the grass. I don’t want to keep taking your stuff.” I wince. Did that sound too suspicious? Could he know my thoughts?

Rumil only winks and plops onto the ground next to me. “Nonsense. It’s Orophin’s anyway.”

I sputter, the laughter escaping me without any real thought. It just feels so natural to be comfortable with Rumil, the others too. So what if they think they’re elves?

So what if they are elves?

Alex’s foot digs into mine, and my laughter dies. His words return to haunt me. They’re delusional…stop playing into their lies….

Haldir joins us. He sits across from Rumil, completing the small circle, saying nothing. He takes out a knife and what looks like a small rock and begins to sharpen the blade.

It’s clear Rumil doesn’t care for silence and he quickly tries to strike up a conversation. “Obviously you know each other now, but Cosima, you couldn’t remember Alex before today. Has anything changed? Do you remember something more?”

I feel each of their eyes on me and I search through the vague remnants of my memory. “I…didn’t know I knew Alex, true. But the minute I saw him, the memories came rushing back—not everything, of course, but I got more context into who he is and who we are to each other. But no, nothing more than that.”

Rumil raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “And who is he?”

“Her friend since childhood,” Alex cuts in smoothly, responding before I can.

Images of two children running down a paved road, cutting up paper and gluing it to popsicle sticks, trying to hit each other with foam swords, race through my mind.

“We…lived down the street from each other,” I recall, smiling as the memories take firmer hold. “I used to go to your house after school and your sister would watch us until our parents got home.”

“We went to prom together.” He gives a short laugh, fondness softening his guarded eyes. “Only because we couldn’t find anyone to go with either of us.”

“It was better that way,” I declare, the start of a smile twitching at my lips. “Who else would have ditched halfway through with me to get snacks and watch a movie?”

He shakes his head slowly, fondness giving way to nostalgia. “I had fun that night.”

“Me too.”

Look at all these memories you have together. See how long you’ve trusted him? How long he’s stuck by your side? Maybe you owe it to him to trust him now.

“That was good.” I whip around, startled to see Baranor leaning against a tall tree, clutching his healer’s bag. I had assumed he was on watch with Orophin. He makes his way over to us. “Perhaps the more you talk about it, the more you will remember.”

I shrug, heart rate slowing down after the scare. “Hopefully. Right now, it seems like my mind’s gone completely blank. I only have the memories I described. Anything beyond is just that—out of reach.”

“Be kind to yourself. Any progress is admirable.” He smiles, walking to the middle of our circle and crouching in front of Alex. “I’d like to take a look at your head and address any injuries you acquired in your time traveling alone.”

Alex hesitates, then rolls up the end of his right legging to reveal a dirty red and brown gash.

“Alex,” I gasp, recoiling from the wound. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

He shrugs, wincing slightly when Baranor prods at the edge of the cut. “There were more important things to deal with.”

I roll my eyes as a new set of memories—annoying me more than giving me hope—come to mind. “You always tried to be tougher than everyone else.”

He grins, then grimaces slightly when Baranor starts the cleaning process. Despite that, he retains a playfulness in his tone that’s welcome after our arguments. “True. Way tougher than you! That time you fell out of the tree—gosh, we could hear you shouting for miles.”

That memory flashes forward, too. “I was seven and it hurt!” I defend, crossing my arms indignantly.

Alex quirks a teasing eyebrow. “And did you ever climb a tree again?”

I sniff, turning my head to the sky to avoid seeing the blood weeping from the wound. “I can’t remember.”

“Well, you didn’t,” he snarks.

“Must be why you’re afraid of heights,” Rumil muses, reclining on the grass to watch the stars. Stars that I’m not making up. “You’re going to hate Caras Galadon.”

I turn my head in his direction. “Why?”

Mischief shines brightly in Rumil’s eyes. “The city is built into the trees.”

I gulp, wondering how on Earth I’m going to visit a city that’s built so high up, but then Alex catches my eye, and I understand.

We will not be going to Lothlórien.

{***}

The morning greets us with a cloudy sunrise and a harsh breeze.

Haldir eyes the sky warily. “Secure your supplies as best as you can We are in for a storm today.”

I grimace. It’s not that thunderstorms scare me, but from what I’ve learned about Haldir in our few short days together, I have a feeling he’ll require that we keep riding, no matter the weather conditions. Today probably isn’t going to be fun. A particularly gusty wind blows my cloak from my shoulders and I huff, yanking it back into place.

“Here.” I look up to see Haldir offering me a green and silver clip in the shape of a leaf. I eye it in confusion. “It will keep your cloak secured,” he explains, pointing to his own that clasps at the base of his neck.

“Oh,” I take it from him, slightly stunned at the kind gesture. “Thank you.”

He nods once then pivots on his heel and marches back to his horse a few yards ahead. I turn the clip in my hands, admiring its craftsmanship.

“That will come in handy today,” Rumil notes, bringing his horse up the hill to meet me.

I smile in greeting, securing the edges of my cloak with the clip. “Hey, I was thinking. Would you show me how to tack up the horse? That way I can help with that while you do some of your other tasks.”

He nods, agreeing to my proposal, and launches into a surprisingly in-depth description of how to properly care for and prepare a horse for a day of hard riding. I take in as much as I can but, knowing me, I’ll need some repetition and practice before it truly sticks. When Haldir gives the order to leave, Rumil gives me a leg up. But, much to my confusion, he settles himself behind me on the horse, rather than in front.

“What—“

He reaches around me to take the reins and place them in my hands, which have already clenched into fists. “You are not the only one who has good ideas. Today, I teach you how to ride. Do try your best and please don’t steer us into the river.”

I groan at the truth behind his joke but take the reins in my hands, knowing that its a good idea for me to learn. Riding skill will help when Alex and I are on our own.

Haldir doesn’t turn from his watch of the horizon, but he raises his voice loud enough for us to hear. “Do not slow us down, Cosima.” And, though his voice holds the same seriousness it always does, I swear I can hear the smallest hint of amusement.

{***}

By late morning, it starts to rain. The droplets are cold and big, taking away any warmth spring has to offer. Not long after, it begins to pour and the path turns to mud. Rumil switches places with me then, wanting a more experienced rider directing the horse through the worsening conditions. The rain soaks through my cloak, my tunic, my leggings. I shiver. Looking over, I see that Alex is equally uncomfortable and sits rigidly on the back of Baranor’s horse, using one arm to grip his cloak tighter around him. The others seem inconvenienced, but otherwise unaffected. They do not shiver, nor obsessively wipe the rain from their eyes. They certainly don’t react to cold rain like humans.

About an hour later, the storm really starts, the rain having apparently only been an introduction. Flashes and booms fill the air, loud enough for me to feel the vibrations in my chest. The wind howls and blows fiercely, causing the horses to bend against it to keep their pace. Water falls from the sky in sheets, completely obscuring my line of vision and soaking us all to the bone. With a note of panic, I realize that the river is steadily creeping up the bank, mingling with the mud that has become our path.

I shout over the rain. “Rumil!” Tugging on his arm, I point to the rising water, and he uses his knees to spur the horse forward. We pull up beside Haldir, who greets us with a questioning gaze.

“The path is in danger of flooding,” Rumil informs him, gesturing his head to the water mere inches from the horses’ hooves. A crease appears in Haldir’s brow and he glances around, working to form a plan.

To my surprise, he addresses me rather than Rumil. “Can you and Alexander continue in this weather? Is your health in danger if we do not seek shelter?”

Oh, I want to stop so badly. I want to find shelter, to let my clothes dry, to have a break from being pelted by icy droplets of rain. I want a snack and a blanket and perhaps a warm fire, if that’s not too much to ask.

But Haldir is appealing to my honesty, trusting me to give him an accurate answer. He is showing me the same respect he gives to his brothers, to Baranor, and I cannot take advantage of that trust. So, with a sigh, I shake my head. “No, we’ll be fine. We can keep going.”

Haldir nods once, a tendency of his, and raises his voice to be heard by all over the rain. “Leave the path and go uphill. We ride over the plains.”

I shudder. The planes are exposed. We will lose what little cover from the rain that the trees provide. But I push aside my dread and steel myself for the rest of  journey. I can do this.

Hopefully, the rain will stop by nightfall.

{***}

Mercifully, it does. An hour before we stop for the night, the rain dies down, taking the wind and lighting with it.

Rumil has to practically peel me off the horse. He looks me over, eyes widening in alarm, and wraps me in his arms. “Mellon, you are shaking.” I lean into his warmth, though his clothes are as soaked as mine are.

Haldir dismounts and stomps over, giving me a withering glare. He speaks sharply, a bite to his words. “You said you would be fine.”

“And I meant it,” I snap back, annoyed from discomfort and the venom in his voice. “I just need to dry off and warm up, is all.”

He holds his glare steady, probably assessing the honesty in my statement. Or just trying to intimidate me. Finally, he nods, still angry, but resigned. “Baranor is starting a fire. You and Alexander shed your cloaks and sleep as close to it as you can.”

“Don’t you need me too-”

He cuts me off. “We will take care of the preparations for the night. You rest.”

When I make a noise of agreement to his plan, Haldir walks away, taking Rumil’s horse with him. With a final, worried smile, Rumil pushes me in the direction of the small fire, walking the opposite way to follow his brother.

I practically collapse on my bedroll next to the fire.

Across the flames, Alex sets me with an indecipherable look. “That was a long day.”

I huff in agreement, unable to do much more now that my body realizes how drained it is.

A pause. Then, “Do you think we’ll reach Imladris soon?”

I squeeze my eyes shut, wanting desperately to sink into sleep. Instead, I force myself to do some mental math. “Based on the timeline Orophin gave me, we’re probably about eight days away. Though, I don’t know how much the storm set us back. Why?”

He flops on his mat, pulling a probably damp blanket up to his chin. “Just trying to figure out how much more of this awful traveling we have ahead of us.”

I want to roll my eyes, but, before I can, sleep takes me.

{***}

When I open my eyes, it’s still dark out.

The fire has mostly died, though it retains a soft orange glow that gives me enough light to see the faces of my soundly sleeping companions. Alex has not moved from his spot across the fire, but to my right and left are Rumil and Baranor, the four of us forming a circle around the weakening flames. Haldir and Orophin must be standing watch.

I sit up slowly, trying to avoid making noise that could wake my friends. I press my hand against my cloak that is laid next to the fire—still a bit damp. It will need until morning. Twisting slightly to stretch my aching body, I notice the small bundle next to my mat, and curiously pull back the cloth. Inside the makeshift pouch sits a serving of lembas bread and a handful of red berries. I smile, pulling the dinner into my lap.

While I eat, I let my eyes scan the rolling hills of the plains. I’ve noticed that Haldir relaxes camp when we’re surrounded by trees, but in the plains, he sets a double watch. Looking at the landscape, I suppose I understand. The dips and peaks provide good cover—not just for us, but for anyone wishing to do us harm. There are plenty of hills around us of equal height, meaning the advantage of having the high ground is pretty much nonexistant. And, tonight especially, the landscape is encapsulated in a thick fog, obscuring much from my eyesight. But elves have much better vision, I reassure myself. Haldir and Orophin will be able to see just fine.

I hold my breath.

They are not elves. They are men, just like any other.

It seems I have to remind myself of that more lately. It seems too easy, given the differences between us, to accept their story. But as Alex says, they have to be playing some sort of trick on us. But why? Out of malevolence?

Immediately, I recoil from that thought. My companions seem much too kind, much too genuine to be liars. Even Haldir, who defaults to being standoffish and cold, has never made me feel like I’m in danger. In fact, he actively keeps us all from it. Even now, I’m sure he’d much rather be asleep, warming by the fire, but he and his brother brave the elements, keeping themselves awake and uncomfortable to ensure our safety.

How can people like that be liars?

How can they be bad?

Boots squelch against the mud and I look over my shoulder. Haldir walks up the hill, coming back from watch. Upon noticing me staring at him, he raises an eyebrow and comes to crouch between my mat and what’s left of the fire. He holds up his hands, warming them. “Can’t sleep?”

I shrug, fiddling with the edge of the cloth that holds my dinner. “Don’t know why, I’m tired enough. How was watch?”

He smiles softly as he glances around, still seeming to subconsciously take note of his surroundings. “Foggy, but quiet. We probably don’t need two, but I feel better that way, given all the hills.”

I offer him the remainder of my bread and berries, which he accepts with a nod of thanks. “Are we in danger?”

He pauses, chewing a berry. He doesn’t look at me and seems to take the time to choose his words very carefully. “The risks are lessened here.”

“Which means the worst is ahead of us,” I guess.

His eyes leave the horizon and turn to bore into mine. “The four of us are well-skilled in battle and have made this journey a hundred times before.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You didn’t answer my question.”

He only raises his own eyebrow to match mine, popping another berry into his mouth. He stands, brushes his hands off and returns the bundle to me. “I must wake Rumil and Baranor so Orophin can come back. You should try to sleep.”

I nod, my full belly and the warmth from the fire lulling me back into tiredness. I lay down on the mat and tuck my head into the crook of my arm just in time to see Haldir rouse his youngest brother and take his spot on the mat. Rumil gives me a sleepy smile before waking Baranor and the two head off together, presumably to relieve Orophin and take over watch.

Haldir settles on his mat and notices my gaze over the hill. “Goodnight,” he says pointedly, then rolls onto his back.

“Goodnight,” I mumble, falling back into sleep.

A/n Thanks for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs make my day :) Let me know if you would like a tag! And if you’re having trouble being tagged, try subscribing on Ao3! That will notify you automatically when I post there. 

|next part|

|masterlist|

Tolkien tag list: @anangelwhodidntfall @eru-vande

Double Heart tag list: @lainphotography @fangirl-nonsense @themerriweathermage @thophil2941btw @kenobiguacamole @wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse @sheriffgerard @boywivlove

**Strikethrough means Tumblr won’t let me tag you**

[liathgray]

marelle... as a treat

(mild spoilers for later chapters but also... not really?? nothing plot-related)

Edward’s first meeting with Mei Chang started with a knife almost skewering him through the shoulder.

Not the worst introduction he’d ever had.

As it so happens, Al hadn’t really explained why he’d asked her to come to meet with them beyond: we need your opinion on something, please. Don’t RSVP.

Telegrams are a touch too short to explain something as complicated as… all of this. The simple invite was a little bit easier than so it turned out alternate worlds exist and much of what we know about reality could be a lie or half truth at best, another version of my brother got body slammed into our world so now we’re trying to see if there’s a way to send him back without making the world do cartwheels and ruin the fabric of time. Also don’t RSVP.

The only reason said knife didn’t find a snug home below his collarbone was because some sixth sense—lovingly nicknamed dumb luck—raised the hairs at the back of his neck, sent goosebumps down his arm and spat out a loud, inaudible scream of move, idiot.

He threw himself to the side just as a blade whistled through the air and embedded itself into the wood of the bench. Edward looked up, half frantic, to find a young girl, black hair tied into a collection of braids and dressed in warm colours. A lot of pink, his stupid, detail oriented, terribly prioritized mind noted.

Also she had a knife. 

Several knives, actually, held between her fingers and posed to throw. Without his permission, time sped back up and another one went flying. As it so happens, his reflexes didn’t get the memo quiet as fast.

“Mei!” He heard someone cry.

“Hold on!”

Edward instinctively threw up his right arm barely in time and he felt a thump as the blade hit, nailing him just below his wrist instead of where it might’ve sailed between his eyes. He heard the high crack of ceramic being broken and a sliver surely climbed across his forearm.

To his absolute dismay, Edward’s first and only thought in reaction to this was nice shot. 

In his defence, it was. 

“Wait, wait, wait!” Al had his arms hooked under the girl’s shoulders, pulling her back while Ed blocked her from the front and she looked about ready to kick both of them in the shins for it. 

“Let go of me that’s—“

“Calm down!” Ed managed to get her many—many, many, many—knives out of reach.

“But—“

“—he’s not a homunculus! Fuck’s sake Mei—“ She almost elbowed Ed in the nose.

“So why does he look exactly like you?!”

Al dodged a heel to the knee. “Just let us explain!”

She shouted and yelled at them both. Edward watched, unmoving, his hand still half raised and a bit dazed. He couldn’t decided if it was awkwardness or just plain awe that kept him in place, but it sure as hell kept him. Mei slowly calmed as the two rushed to explain, her eyes widening and expression shifting from battle-ready to confusion, then to a mild horror. 

Winry practically materialized at his side, offering a hand to help him up. “You okay?”

He blinked. “Uh, yeah. Knife in arm, but it’s fine.” He yanked said knife from it’s resting place with a lopsided frown and hoped that the damaged had only been to the outer shell, otherwise he was going to have the un-colloquial version of a pickle inside another pickle inside a jar of honey. Translation: quite the predicament. 

Thankfully, his fingers could still move and the elbow didn’t seem any stiffer than it ought to.

There was a sharp gasp, then a voice raised almost to a squeak. “Other worlds?” 

His gaze shifted and found that Al had stepped away and the young girl’s face was going to need to get peeled from the pavement with how quickly her jaw dropped. Edward winced sympathetically because the revelation of alternate realities was never a kind one. It was like having a piano dropped on your head while in a forest—sure, you were expecting a tree, but this was both ten timed louder and a million times more impossible.

He peered over, eyebrows raised as both Ed and Al breathed what looked like sighs of relief, and Mei flushed bright pink to match her attire, hands wrung tightly in front of her, gripping at the fabric of her long coat.

She shuffled forward, mouth pressed into a tight line and Edward was tempted to just hold out his hand for a shake and pretend that first bit hadn’t happened. Who was he to judge anyways? Sheepishly, she glanced up at him, head still slightly bowed. “I’m… sorry. Uh, about throwing a knife at your head. I panicked.”

It was a hysterical situation. What else was he supposed to do other than laugh? Nothing. So he did. “Are you kidding?” For a brief moment she looked stunned, like she was expecting him to be mad. As a general rule of thumb, Edward would never accept an apology for a good shot. He gave her a mild grin. “You’ve got wicked aim.” Edward gave in to the previous temptation and simply offer a hand. “S’nice to meet you.”

Her face immediately brightened, turning to Al. “Oh, I like this one.”

[reinerispretty]

rotations. bonus!AU (sokka x f!reader)

sokka and rotations y/n being star crossed lovers request!?!?! i saw how u answered that ask abt if zuko and suki both werent in the picture and... i am 👀

do you think you could do a rotations au where y/n ends up with sokka 🥺 the babysitting story killllllled me (i read rotations in an all nighter i LOVED IT 💕💕💕)

HI and thank you to those of you who requested this!! i want to preface that this is NOT canon in the rotations universe (if that’s a thing lmao), it’s just a fun what if that i am writing :) but this is not canon for my fanfic!! i just feel the need to reiterate that lmao

(Y/N) had been no stranger to nightmares throughout her life. Haunting images of ghosts and monsters plagued her occasionally but usually faded away with time. They would wake her in the middle of the night with a start and beating heart, but she would find her way back to sleep eventually. 

When (Y/N) opened her eyes, she found her reality to be the nightmare. She turned over in bed and stared at the empty space, perfectly untouched. She shut her eyes tightly and lay there for a few minutes, trying her hardest to suppress the tears that threatened to spill onto her pillowcase. 

The door to her bedroom creaked open and her daughter, Izumi, poked her head into the room. She was nine now, the same age that (Y/N) had been when she had met Zuko, and had a hard time comprehending what was going on. 

(Y/N) sat up quickly, painting a smile on her face for her daughter. “Good morning, little petal,” She said, outstretching her arms. Izumi padded quickly to her bedside, lifting herself onto her bed and fitting into (Y/N’s) lap. Her head rested against her chest and she could feel her mother’s heartbeat. 

“I dreamed about him again,” Izumi whispered quietly. (Y/N) gripped her daughter tightly, pressing her lips onto the crown of her dark head. 

“What was he doing?” (Y/N) asked. 

“He smiled at me,” Izumi said. “He said he missed us.” (Y/N) held in the sob that threatened to wrack her body. She wanted, no needed, to be strong for Izumi. (Y/N) was all she had left. 

Izumi turned, sitting up to face her mother. “You can cry, Mommy. Daddy said it’s okay to cry.” 

(Y/N) felt all of her resolve break. In an instant, it was Izumi holding her mother and (Y/N) sobbed into her daughter’s hair. She held Izumi so tight because she feared if she let go, she would fade away. Their daughter was the only piece of Zuko that she had left. She had his dark hair and amber eyes. Every facial expression she made was a near copy of her father’s. It made (Y/N) feel horrible to admit it, but sometimes she couldn’t look at her own daughter. 

When (Y/N) had started to calm down, Izumi sat up. Her own tears streaked down her face. (Y/N) wiped them away with her thumbs and kissed both of her cheeks. Izumi did the same to her. “I miss him a lot,” Izumi said, her bottom lip wobbling. (Y/N) hugged her daughter once more. 

“Me too,” She said. (Y/N) sniffled and wiped away more tears. “We have to get ready for today. The servants should have placed a white dress in your closet.” 

“I don’t want to wear it,” Izumi sighed. (Y/N) gulped. 

“I don’t either,” She said. “But it’s the best way to honor your father.” Izumi nodded and hopped off of the bed, walking out of the bedroom and returning to her room. Slowly, (Y/N) slid out of bed and moved over to the window. The sun still rose and the birds still sang in the trees. She wondered how life could continue when something so horrible had happened. 

The servants helped her get ready that morning. They fastened her into her white dress and started braiding her hair until she had ordered them not to. Zuko had told her once that he liked it when it was down. “It’s wild like you,” He had said with a smile on his face. (Y/N) could feel the pain stab her in the heart whenever she thought of him. 

Once dressed, she left the room and walked down the Hall of Fire Lords. At the very end was Zuko’s portrait. His eyes were kind, his lips painted with just a lilt of a smile to them. (Y/N) reached out and touched the fabric, holding her palm to it before continuing down the hallway. 

When she reached the dining room, her friends were sat around the table, entertaining Izumi. She sat in Katara’s lap as Aang amazed her with his airbending. (Y/N) felt a genuine smile raise to her lips for the first time in days. 

Sokka was the first one to notice her. He was at her side almost immediately, taking her hands in his. His blue eyes stared into her soul. 

“Don’t hug me,” She whispered to him. “I might break down.” Sokka smiled sadly and walked her over to the dining table. Numbly, she sat at her regular seat, to the right of Zuko’s chair at the head of the table. She chewed the food that the servants had prepared for her, but she couldn’t taste it. She avoided to fruit tarts at all costs. 

“How was your trip?” She asked, directing the question to all of her friends. 

“Pretty good,” Toph said. She hadn’t even sat with her feet propped on the table like she normally would. (Y/N) sat her chopsticks down and wiped her mouth, turning to Izumi. 

“Would you please feed the turtle ducks this morning? They must be wondering where we are.” Izumi pouted and opened her mouth to argue with her mother, but Aang grabbed her by the hand. 

“I’ll go with you,” He said. (Y/N) flashed him a thankful smile as he led Izumi out of the room. 

“You all don’t have to pretend like there’s nothing wrong,” (Y/N) assured her friends as she stared down at her plate. “I’m not fragile.” 

“We know,” Katara assured her, resting a hand on hers. “This is...this is hard for all of us. But we want you to know that you don’t have to be strong right now.” 

(Y/N) opened and clenched her fist around the sleeves of her dress. The feeling was the only thing grounding her to reality. She laughed bitterly. “I haven’t stopped crying for days,” She admitted. “Izumi wiped away my tears this morning. I haven’t been strong at all.” 

“You have,” Sokka whispered. “You’re the strongest person I know.” She turned to look at him. It had barely been a year since he had lost Suki. It had been during a battle and she had died fighting. If anyone knew what she was going through, it would be Sokka. 

“I don’t know if I can do it without him,” (Y/N) whispered, her eyes watering once more. She didn’t even know what ‘it’ was, but as far as she cared it could be everything. Zuko had been at her side since she was a child. Everything she had ever done, she had done with him. 

“You don’t have to,” Toph reassured her. “You have us to help.” 

The funeral was long. (Y/N) stood by Zuko’s coffin with her head raised regally, Izumi at her side. If she couldn’t stay strong behind closed doors, she would definitely stay strong for the people of the Fire Nation. She watched as the people in attendance weeped for the death of their Fire Lord. Barely any of them had known Zuko personally, but it warmed her heart the tiniest bit to think he could have positively impacted them in any way. 

At the end of the funeral, (Y/N) kneeled to the ground. The Fire Sages crowned her Fire Lord until Izumi came of age. They placed the very same crown that Zuko had worn in her hair and she had to squeeze her hands together to prevent them from shaking. 

Her friends stayed with her for a few days after the funeral, but one by one, eventually they were called away. Toph was the first to leave, having to run her earthbending academy. Aang left shortly after on an important Avatar mission. (Y/N) could tell that Katara missed him, so she assured her friend that she would be fine and that she should be with him. 

“Take it from me,” (Y/N) said sadly. “You’ll want to spend every moment you can with him.” 

The only one that remained was Sokka. He read to Izumi every night before she slept and kept her company while (Y/N) attended Fire Lord meetings. He ate every meal with them and while (Y/N) enjoyed his presence, she worried that he was neglecting his duties by being with them. She expressed this to him one night, after Izumi had gone to bed. 

“I’m not missing anything the Water Tribe can’t handle by themselves,” He admitted. “I get the occasional messenger hawk, but I always reply back as quickly as possible.” He had grabbed her hand and given it a tight squeeze. “I’m not going to leave you anytime soon.” 

His room was the guest room down the hall from hers. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, (Y/N) would wake up sobbing hysterically. She rarely dreamed but when she did, they were always of Zuko. She dreamt that he was laying next to her, or that he had disappeared in the palace, but she always found him again. He would take her into his arms, laughing happily, and always he would say, “Do you know how much I love you?” 

That was the moment (Y/N) would wake up, her sobs wracking her throat and shaking her body. Tears would stream down her face faster than she could wipe them away. Sokka would then enter her room, half asleep, and hold her as she cried. She’d try to explain to him what had happened in her dream, but no words what come out. He never pressured her to answer. He would stroke her hair to soothe her and rub his fingers up and down her back. Eventually, she would fall asleep from pure exhaustion, and when she had woken up again, he would be gone. 

Sokka spent months at the royal palace with (Y/N) and Izumi. He was definitely lying to (Y/N) when he had told her he wasn’t missing much from the Water Tribe, but there was no way he would leave her side. Even if he put his feelings for her aside, (Y/N) had been a constant in Sokka’s life when he had lost Suki. She had traveled to the Water Tribe in the dead of winter to offer her condolences from her family. The least he could do was remind her that she wasn’t completely alone in the world. 

It hurt him, knowing she was hurting this much. She had loved Zuko with her whole heart, and Sokka had known that. That’s why he had broken up with her so many years ago. He had seen the longing glances they had given each other over the months she had joined their team. He hadn’t felt right in standing between what was meant to be. But while he hadn’t known then, Sokka certainly knew now that he loved (Y/N) with his entire being. He had for a long time and just hadn’t realized it. And he would take this secret with him to the grave. 

(Y/N) stood on the balcony of her bedroom late in the night. The moon was full and cast a bright light down onto the turtle duck pond below her. Sometimes, (Y/N) found it was better for her not to sleep. She knew “better” wasn’t quite the truth, but she hadn’t had a dream about Zuko in a few nights and feared that it would happen tonight. And while she wanted to see her husband more than anything, she didn’t think she could handle waking up and realizing that he was no longer there. 

She heard her door crack open and turned back to see who it was. Sokka entered her room, his eyes wide with curiosity. He smiled at her once he laid eyes on her. “Izumi’s asleep.” 

“Thank you,” (Y/N) said. He joined her on the balcony. “I’m worried she’s going to start hating me for not reading to her more.” 

“She could never hate you,” Sokka said. “You should hear the way she talks about you. ‘Mommy’s so strong. Did you know she’s the best firebender in the world?’“ (Y/N) laughed at Sokka’s Izumi impression. It was high pitched and sounded absolutely nothing like her daughter. 

“Best firebender in the world is a stretch, I think. Aang definitely has me beat by a little bit.” 

“Nah,” Sokka said, nudging her with his elbow. “You could definitely take him.” 

(Y/N) chuckled, staring at her fingers as they wrapped around the railing of the balcony. “I haven’t cried at all this week,” She admitted to him. “I feel horrible.” 

“Why?” Sokka asked. 

“Because I feel like not crying means I’m forgetting about him,” She sighed, tilting her face up to look at the moon. “And I’m scared that I’ll forget about him.” 

“You’ll never forget about Zuko,” Sokka said softly. “And I mean, it’s kind of hard to when his face is plastered all over the palace.” 

(Y/N) laughed again and Sokka felt his stomach flutter with butterflies. She turned to look at him, her face softening. “I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done over these past few months.” 

“What are friends for?” Sokka asked, but it hurt his own heart to say it. (Y/N) nodded, just the slightest bit of disappointment evident on her face. 

“Sometimes it feels like he’s watching me,” (Y/N) said. “It’s like I turn around and I can almost see him there.” 

“I’m sure he is watching you. You were the best part of his life.” (Y/N) blushed. 

“He’s one of the best parts of mine.” 

“He’d want you to try to be happy.” (Y/N) nodded. 

“I know. It’s just hard. And I’m scared.” 

“Scared?” 

“I guess I’m scared to open up again.”

“Oh. I know that feeling.” (Y/N) frowned. She felt like she had said something so insensitive to Sokka. How could she forget about Yue? About Suki?

“They’d want you to be happy, too,” She assured him.

“I am happy,” He said with a big smile. 

“Really? You’re happy cooped up in a palace with a widow and her daughter?” 

“Honestly, I’ve been the happiest I’ve been in a long time. I love Izumi and I love you.” (Y/N’s) smile faltered at his words. 

“We love you too.” Sokka shook his head. 

“I love you, (Y/N), always will.” 

“Sokka...” 

“And I know you’re not ready and you don’t know if you’ll ever be ready. But that’s okay with me. I just enjoy being around you.” 

(Y/N) grabbed his face between her hands and kissed him. Instinctively, his hands wrapped around her waist and pulled her close. When they pulled apart, both their eyes were wide with surprise. “I don’t know if that can mean anything,” She told Sokka. “I don’t know if I’m ready. I don’t-” 

“It’s okay,” Sokka assured her. He pulled her close and hugged her. “You don’t have to know. I’ll be here regardless.” 

---

Tag List!

@beifongsss @musicalkeys , @aroyaldarknessblr , @itsivyberry , @harryisthesunshine , @coldlilheart , @awesomelupe , @zukosvice , @tomshollandz , @lavendercrystals , 

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

Okay okay forgive me… I’m a HUGE music nerd so when it comes to song fics I have trouble narrowing down… is it okay if I put down 3 ideas and just use whichever you like? All of them have something to do with Silva and a bit of angst… so yeah😅

Nightmares - All Time Low this one is kinda tied into your think about it: “A Lullaby for Noelle” (research shows that babies’ long term memories begin to kick in around age one and explicit memories begin to kick in around the two year age mark) and either takes place just after Nozel told Noelle she will be joining the Black Bulls or within her first few nights at the BB base (if it’s the latter, it’s probably after Asta saved her from when she lost control and she was afraid of being ridiculed but he gave her genuine praise). Noelle has nightmares often, which is understandable given her upbringing. Sometimes though, when she wakes in the middle of the night, she has these very hazy images. Some of a younger Nozel? In few he looks down at her smiling without a braid to hide his eyes. In some she recalls a panicked face and being desperately held against a chest with a heartbeat so fast it seemed like it would’ve burst. The most common was of this boy that maybe was her brother… looking down at her fondly and saying something she couldn’t comprehend in a soothing but almost silent and cracking voice. There’s another but even more blurry of a little girl and a toddler little boy… she can just barely make out what she thinks is confusion and slight smiles… but there aren’t many of those to speak of. The most blurry of them all is the fond kind smile of a woman with lilac silver hair. Whenever these images come to her, it’s almost always after awaking from a nightmare that involved her family. She’d cry, alone in her room, asking the Gods why? What changed them? Are these images memories or just what she wishes were true… why did the blame her, hate her, she just didn’t know what to do. She’d pull covers over her head trying to push it away… but almost every time, she’d have to hysterically cry, alone in the dark, until she’d fall asleep once more from exhaustion.

I SEE STARS - What This Means To Me (Raw & Unplugged) maybe Asta & Noelle from her perspective? Only thing is, in the Verses, you’d change “I'd give just about anything to know she's waiting for me” to ‘I'd give just about anything to know he's waiting for me’. But like maybe once they all safely return from Spade and during one of the Black Bulls signature midnight BBQs at the base, Noelle sneaks off in the woods just to collect her thoughts a little bit… about herself and Nozel actually having gotten to see Acier one last time as she looks up at the moon. Asta noticed and came to see if she was alright and after a few moments of silence asks her why she and Nozel were crying when megicula was defeated. (As far as I know he never knew the tie between the Silva’s and Meg) so she tells him about how Megicula killed her mother… how she feels now knowing Nozel did what he did to keep her safe… and she tells him hesitantly that in the end she and Nozel saw Acier one last time… and that’s why they were crying. Asta is of course comforting and probably hugs her saying he’s happy she got that chance (still completely oblivious of Noelle’s feelings). Noelle had admitted to herself and accepted that she loves Asta, and I don’t think she’d necessarily admit it yet in this setting… but this song just kinda sounds like it could be going through her head along with memories of every time he’s helped her and… she’s just happy. Content for now, happy to have him in her life at all.

As It Is - Hey Rachel Ah, another Nozel + Noelle request. Again, change “Rachel” to “Noelle” (and I checked, both have exactly 2 syllables so it still fits) I can’t imagine Nozel ever actually being caught listening to Alt Rock… but regardless braid boy could legitimately use some angsty lyrics to let some of his pent up emotions out. This song is from the perspective of an elder brother apologizing to his baby sister for not being the brother he should have been… the lead singer Patty Walters explains it best here + the video puts it into beautiful perspective as well. Even if in Nozel’s private quarters or his office after returning from spade (he knows everyone is either asleep or he’s the only one there at the moment) Now that Megicula is gone he’s accepting the brother he can finally be. It won’t be easy and there will be some parts that can never be mended… but just as he vowed to be strong at mother’s grave, he vows then and there to be the brother they all deserve… all while with tears threatening to fall he stared out the window and up at the moon… the same moon unbeknownst to him his sister had been staring at that same night.

Like I said, I really love song fics and I didn’t want to lose them so I hope it’s alright I sent 3… whichever is fine

HAPPY HAPPY 600!!!!! *passes you celebratory cupcake*… *Charmy ate your celebratory cupcake*

Hello~! ^_^

I have to admit that I'm bad with music (and I really should find something new to listen to). But I gave a shot to each of these, and in the end I just went with the one I liked listening to the most. 😅

Anyways, I do hope that you like what I made (it's for Noelle and from the first song) (link here)

And thank you for the cupcake!! (Even if Charmy ate it; it's the thought that counts 😅😂

[hopesbarnes]

Right In Front Of Me

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Wanda’s your best friend. The only person who knows you completely. So if she’s your friend, why does her going on a date bother you so much?

Warnings: None 

A/N: 1. men ain't shit so here's a wlw fic. 2. I am 100% up to write a second part to this if you guys are interested?

Parents call their kids special every day. It’s nothing new. Moms and Dads all over the world think their kid is unique and that they’re different from every other child out there. Your parents though? They were spot on. You were special, and not in the way they led you to believe.

You first learned about your powers when you were 13 years old. One minute you’re eating dinner with your parents. Discussing math tests over spaghetti. Then you felt a rush of warmth and suddenly they were eating with famous singer Stevie Nicks. (Who you had just been listening to prior to the meal). It didn’t take long for the lot of you to realize that by special, it meant mutant. Somehow, someway you were born with the ability to shapeshift. If you can picture the person, you can become that person. DNA and all. 

For the next four years, you felt alone. You learned to control your ability, and not just shapeshift all the time. But you still couldn’t let anyone get close to you. They could find out and put you in harm’s way. So no friends, or boyfriends. Just you and your parents. And you got used to being lonely. It was what was best.

Until one day when you were 17, and Tony Stark appeared at your door with an offer to become an Avenger. You had no idea how he knew, but if he could find out so could someone else. So after a quick conversation with your parents, you packed up and moved to New York to live with actual superheroes. 

It was then you met Wanda. A gorgeous girl your age, who dressed witchily and was a mutant. Just like you. She was the first person to understand what it was like. To fear what you were capable of, and to know what it’s like to hide yourself to save face. It was almost instantly the pair of you became friends. You even moved into the room beside hers and spent every possible moment you could with the girl.

Shopping trips were common (avenger’s got a nice stipend, and you had no bills), movie nights were mandatory, and just grabbing lunch dates was common between the two of you. You were attached at the hip and finally felt like you had someone in your life you could trust.

Until today.

Wanda came into your room bubbly as always and announced, “I have a date.” Suddenly it wasn’t such a good day and you didn’t know why. All your energy immediately drained and your stomach felt tight. 

“With who?” you asked walking towards your connected bathroom to avoid facing her.

“Vision! He asked me to dinner,” she yelled laying back on your bed. You could hear her sigh happily. 

“That’s exciting,” you say with forced enthusiasm. Why was this bothering you so much? You should be happy your friend has a date. 

“You’ll help me get ready, won’t you?” she asks as you leave the bathroom.

“That’s what best friends are for,” you reply sincerely. 

“Thank you!” she says and kisses your cheek before running out of the room. You move your hand to where her lips met your skin. Huh.

A few days later you were over Peter’s house to help with homework. You met him through Tony and became friends. He was the person you felt closest to after Wanda. And he was close to your age. 

You’d spent the last few days confused, angry, and in a funk and everyone let you. The adults of the tower just thought it was teenage angst. But Peter called you out on it.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” he asks between calculus questions.

“Yup totally fine!” you say half paying attention to him.

“Hey,” he says closing the textbook and looking at you. “You know you can talk to me.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong!” you sigh dramatically, “Wanda said she had a date and now I’m completely off. That’s weird right?” you ask ashamed. You should be happy for your friend.

“Can I ask a question?” he says and you smile back at him.

“Always”

“Do you think you have feelings for Wanda?” he says quietly.

“No,” you say unconvincingly, “No!” you repeat. “She’s my best friend. We hang out a lot, but it’s because we’re close. And I mean it’s normal to think she’s cute right? Anyone can see she’s attractive. Her soft skin, and pretty lips. Visions lucky really. She’s a great girl.”

Then after a moment, your eyes go wide and you turn to Peter.

In a really soft whisper, you say, “I think I’m in love with Wanda. And gay.”

“Woah,” is Peter’s response.

“Woah,” you confirm. You’re crying now and Peter pulls you in tight. 

“It’s gonna be okay. You’re going to be okay,” he says and kisses the top of your head while holding you as you cry.

After crying, you were pretty tired and sent Tony a text letting him know you were spending the night at Peter’s. He was fine with it and after Peter explained to Aunt May that you were having a bit of a gay awakening. She brought in a plate of Oreos and told you she loved you before letting the two of you watch a movie in peace. 

The next day after school you headed back to the tower to find Wanda getting ready for her date with Vision. She asked you to help do her hair, and you did while the two of you chatted about things. But as you braided her long hair you realized you really and truly were in love with her. You wanted to kiss her and hold her and date her. But she was going out with Vision, so you put that part down deep inside you and tried your best to be happy for her. 

“I’ll see you later!” she says as she grabs her purse and heads to the door.

“Have fun!” you tell her and head back to your room.

You grab the book your reading and decide to just immerse yourself into it rather than let your brain wander. Until two hours later a visually distressed Wanda opens your door.

“I thought you were on a date?” you ask and she tugs her hair out of the braid you did. She walks over to your mirror and groans at her mascara tears. “Wanda?” you ask getting up to go see what happened.

“So,” she says drawing out the oh sound. “It turns out I am in love with you.” 

“Wait WHAT?” you ask and she laughs at your shocked face.

“It took me on a date with a non-human man to realize that I’ve been in love with my best friend for a while,” she says laughing hysterically. 

“I love you too,” you rush out then put your hand over your mouth.

“You do?” she says and giggles. “What a mess we are.”

“You,” you say laughing, “Need to start your story from the top.”

“I do don’t I?” she says smiling. She grabs your arm and the two of you sit on the bed sitting with your legs crisscrossed and knees touching.

“Well,” she starts, “I was on the date with Vis. And he took me to the zoo, and it was nice. But apparently I kept talking about you. A lot. So much so in fact, he pointed it out. Said ‘You seem to talk about Y/N an abundant amount. It would seem you have feelings for her.’ Then it felt like a light bulb and I started crying and he brought me home, and I told him he’s sweet. But I can’t be with him.” 

You can’t help but have a smile across your face. On the one hand, it all feels fast. Realizing your feelings, realizing your identity, and learning she feels the same way. But on the other hand? This feels right. It feels like you always should’ve been together.

“I can’t believe this whole time you were right in front of me, and I didn’t see it,” she says and leans in closer to you. 

“You’re telling me. So, you’ll be my girlfriend now?” you ask.

“Of course dragoste,” she says and finally leans in close enough to meet her lips to yours. 

Her lips are soft and taste faintly of strawberries. Her eyes flutter close as soon as you reach a hand to brush her hair from her face, and you let yours close too. You need to savor the moment, although you’re sure there’s many more to come. Your other hand grips her waist as if telling her to stay. And she uses her hands to cup your face. The kiss lights fireworks inside you, and all you want to do is kiss her forever now. She moves softly against you and the two of you part ways and stares into each other’s eyes. 

“I love you,” she says again.

“I love you too,” you repeat once more. And you know you’ll be repeating these words to her millions more times.  

[thetenthdoctorscompanion]

25 “Let’s adopt twenty cats together and treat them like our children.” + Sadie/Lydia

“Ugh. I hate men. I hate them!”

Lydia slammed the door to my bedroom, marched across the carpet, and collapsed face-first onto my bed. I snickered, barely looking up from my copy of Heart of Darkness.

“Bad date?”

She lifted her head, violently flipping her hair out of her face to fix me with a stern glare. “It was not a date.”

“Then why are you so upset?”

“It doesn’t have to be a date for me to expect common decency and a baseline of human intelligence. And even if that was supposed to be a date, the four hours I just experienced were so abysmal that they would not qualify as a date in any sense of the word.”

“So he didn’t get you off.”

“Please, Sadie. That’s a given.”

I smirked and finally put my book aside. Lydia had been on about a hundred “not-a-dates” over the course of the summer. She’d narrowed her interests down a few options she had in steady rotation, but every now and then another boy would slip her his number and she was take the chance to switch things up. Unfortunately, the longer the summer stretched on, the harder it became to please her. (Emotionally and physically, judging by the explicit details of the stories she insisted on relaying to me.) I couldn’t remember the last time she’d come home in any state of satisfaction.

I nudged her with my foot, prompting her to drag herself up and lean against the wall opposite me. She tangled her legs with mine, folding her arms over her chest and pouting. I squeezed her legs between mine and gave her a pointed look.

“What?” she snapped.

“Okay, the last thing I want to do is have you bite my head off, but I have to ask. If you’re not going on dates then…what exactly are you looking to get out of this?”

Lydia rolled her eyes at me. “I don’t need to be in a relationship to have fun, Sadie.”

“I know that. You also don’t need boys to have fun. And judging by the last few horror stories you’ve told me, you’re not having fun doing this anyway.”

“Yes, I am.”

I gave her another pointed look, spearing her stubbornness and making her deflate. Lydia sighed and ran her hands through her hair. It looked even more red now than it had last year.

“I have fun sometimes,” she amended. “Most of the time, I just…don’t feel much of anything.”

“Is that…the point?” I asked tentatively.

Lydia pursed her lips once more. “Do you really need to psychoanalyze me right now? I’m perfectly capable of evaluating my own neurosis, and I’ve already spent most of the night being told how I feel by someone extremely unqualified to be doing so.”

I raised my hands in surrender and picked up my book again. Lydia always had to do things her way. If she wanted to plunge herself into a string of meaningless, lackluster hookups instead of dealing with the fact that Jackson was gone, that was her prerogative. Trying to get her to talk to me would only make things worse.

Lydia continued to sulk for a few minutes, then untangled her legs from mine. She crawled across the bed to sit next to me instead, leaning her arm against mine as she toyed with her phone. We coexisted in comfortable silence—Lydia scrolling through her phone to set up her next not-a-date, me flipping through my summer reading for the third time. I hated this book so much that no matter how many times my eyes scanned over the pages, the words kept slipping through my brain. Reading Heart of Darkness, I probably wasn’t thinking or feeling any more than Lydia was.

I snapped out of it when Lydia’s phone dropped on top of my book and, instinctually, I rammed my eyes close. These days, when Lydia shoved her phone in my face, it was usually to share an unsolicited picture or obscene text from one of her booty calls—I was adapting to avoid her phone at all costs, just for survival—but for the moment, Lydia snorted and nudged my arm. When I peeled my eyes open to check, her screen simply displayed a take-out menu.

“What do you want for dinner?” she asked with an air of boredom.

“Dinner?” I blinked at her. “Aren’t you going out? I thought you had a double dude feature lined up.”

“I cancelled. If I’m gonna feel like garbage, it might as well be because of too much pizza instead of lame foreplay.”

She was still pretending to be disinterested, but her pursed lips were hiding a smile. Mine grew into a grin and Lydia gave me a playful warning look.

“Choose before I change my mind.”

“Fine, fine. Girls’ night it is.”

And that was what we did. Lydia cancelled her hookups for both the night and the following day. I texted Stiles to let him know I was bailing on video game night to stay in with Lydia. He tried to trash talk me a little, saying that I was hiding because I didn’t want to lose the tournament, but when I reminded him of our current tally of wins and losses in Mario Kart, he promptly dropped the subject.

Hours later, Lydia and I were sprawled on my bedroom floor, surrounded by empty pizza boxes and sharing a dwindling bottle of rum. Lydia had pulled a bottle from her personal stash and spiked some juice, which we were burning through like gas.

Drinking with Lydia was usually very easy. She knew how to hold her liquor, but she was also way smaller than me. Between my height and her experience, we were pretty evenly matched. I wasn’t sure if it was her bad date, her feelings about Jackson, or sheer boredom, but at the moment, it was easy to tell that Lydia was far tipsier than I was.

“How did you do it?” she asked the ceiling. Her legs were tucked up against her chest, feet dangling in the air, her arms keeping her balanced on the carpet. “How did you find a boy who doesn’t suck?”

“Are you actually complimenting Stiles?” I giggled into my drink. “Wow. Now I know you’re drunk.”

Lydia giggled too, and let her legs flop back to the floor with a thump.

“Okay, I know he’s a dork and he’s a nerd and he’s still very much not cool, but I—I try to be nice to him! I try to be nice because you love him and he loves you and—and that’s so important, you know? He loves you so much, and he would do anything for you, and I—I don’t know how you did it or what that feels like or what that’s like!”

My laughter quickly died away. “Lydia…”

“No, it’s fine. It is. It’s fine because I want you to be happy and I’m happy that you’re happy and I’m happy that Stiles is the one who makes you happy, but even if I—even if Jacks—even if he was still here, I don’t know how much would change, you know? We were never—we were never like that. And he changed a lot. He did, I know, and he did so much work, and he was such a better person, and I—I loved him for it. And I think—I know he loved me too, but—but maybe it’s not the same, because…because if he loved me the way Stiles loves you then he would—he wouldn’t have—”

She wasn’t crying, not yet, but I could see her working herself into hysterics. I hurriedly pushed myself up onto my knees and crawled to her. She whined in protest as I lifted her head into my lap, but she quieted down as I combed my fingers through her hair. Slowly, her breathing began to normalize. She sagged against me, her eyes glazed as she continued to stare at the ceiling, and I moved from brushing her hair to absently braiding it. It was the only thing I could think of to keep her present without prying into her thoughts.

I knew Lydia was hurting without Jackson; I also knew she didn’t want to talk about it. Even now, drunker than I’d ever seen her, she couldn’t bring herself to even say his name. She’d always had her insecurities, but if she’d felt worthless when Jackson broke up with her, it was nothing compared to watching him leave a second time. She’d done so much to save him, and he’d still left her behind.

That’s what brought her to the hookups. It was her way of passing the time, of keeping herself occupied so she wouldn’t have time to miss Jackson. So long as boys still wanted her, she wasn’t worthless. So long as she still had a full social calendar, she was still Queen Lydia Martin, the most popular girl at Beacon Hills High School. So long as she kept moving, she wouldn’t have to confront how much things had changed.

I tied off the bottom of the braid and laid Lydia’s head back on the floor, then scooted across the carpet so I could sprawl out next to her. I laid flat on my back, my head lolling to the side to look at her.

“Hey,” I said, grabbing her hand, “you of all people should know that it’s impossible not to love you. You’re Lydia Martin, remember? Parties or werewolves, boyfriend or no boyfriend—you’re the smartest, strongest person I know. You’re perfect all on your own. Lydia Martin doesn’t need anyone.”

“That’s not true.” Lydia’s voice was soft, and she shook her head at the ceiling. “I need you.”

The words made me smile. I opened my arms as Lydia rolled onto her side, curling up next to me and laying her head on my shoulder.

“Well then,” I said, “I guess it’s a good thing I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good. You’re not allowed to. I’m serious, Sadie. You—you’re gonna live here until we graduate, and then we’re gonna go to college together, and get a little apartment while we job hunt, and then we can get a house, and Allison can come and visit and—cats! Let’s adopt twenty cats together and treat them like our children!”

I snorted, my back rocking off the floor in a way that sent Lydia into another tirade of giggles.

“Yeah, you’re definitely drunk,” I observed.

“I know,” she said, still beaming at me. “But I am serious. You’re not allowed to leave me, Sadie. Promise.”

“I promise, Lydia. I’m not going anywhere.”

[c-rose2081]

Dragon Colds & Rose Petals

Love Like Dragons AU

Bevie | Huma (implied) | Gildry | Mal & Audrey BROTP

—

Evie Grimhilde was a happily married woman. She had been for nearly three months now, and it was marital bliss. But there was a small part of her that was still a lonely, single, Dragon mom. So when Ben walked in on her that day, struggling to keep the human thermometer in Mal’s mouth to take her temperature, he laughed.

Mal, her best friend and a five year old Isle Dragon, had been sick for the past two days. Evie wasn’t sure what brought it on, as Audrey - Ben’s Aurorian Dragon - didn’t seem to have anything. And of course that small, single, lonely dragon mom part of her reared it’s head. What if Mal was terminally ill? What if she died? What if Evie would wake up tomorrow and her best friend wouldn’t be there? It nearly sent her into hysterics. Coddling the cranky, tired spike menace was the only thing that could calm her.

Naturally, Mal hated it.

Ben, thankfully, was a level headed man, and he rescued poor Mal and quarantined her in another room. He then held Evie to his chest and quietly stroked her hair as she rattled off every possible dragon disease she found on the internet and their outcomes.

“I have a friend who’s a vet,” Ben told Evie when she had finally calmed down, holding her close as to keep her from spending the night with Mal - who was no doubt sleeping, “she comes and looks at Audrey every few months, I’m sure she’d be happy to give Mal a checkup,”

And so Evie agreed that a vet visit would be the best option, rather then trusting DragonMD. Of course, she wasn’t aware that Ben and this ‘vet’ were very close friends. Let alone that this ‘vet’ was a woman who he was apparently quite comfortable with. Uma was a pretty, muscly, dark skinned sort with long turquoise and white braids. She stood at least a head above Evie in height, and when she pictured a ‘vet’, Uma was quite far from what she was imagining.

“Uma!” Ben greeted with an open hug, “thanks for coming,”

“You’re lucky, Ben. I just got back into town,”

“Uma works in freight,” Ben explained to Evie, resting an arm around her waist as Uma pulled a rather large black duffle in behind her, “she travels a lot; it’s why you didn’t meet her at the wedding. Uma, this is my wife, Evie. I wrote to you about her,”

“Yeah; all good things thankfully. It’s nice to finally meet you,” Uma replied, Evie smiling in kind and taking her hand in a firm shake. The grip was incredibly strong, and the skin on her palms was callous, “Ben, I hope you don’t mind. But I brought Gil.”

“Who’s Gil?” Evie asked, brows popping up. She expected Gil to be a person, or perhaps a child. Having a large, horn-backed dragon wander in with a rose in his beak wasn’t what Evie expected at all. Like the day she had met Audrey, the girl yearned for her sketchbook, “oh my goodness,”

“I told you. Uma is great with dragons,” Ben laughed, “this is Gil,”

“My boyfriends dragon, actually,” Uma told Evie.

“I’ve never seen anything like him!” Evie exclaimed, jostling as ‘Gil’ nearly knocked her over when he came to bump the side of her leg with a wing.

“Sorry,” the sailor groaned, rolling her eyes as she grabbed the dragon by the back of the neck, “he’s really good with people, and gentle as they come. But he’s just so big,”

“What kind of dragon is he?” Evie asked, kneeling down to have a better look. Gil, unlike both Mal and Audrey, was built like a narrow turtle, and was armored like a tank. He had short legs with four toes each, and an articulated shell covering his nape, all the way down to his back legs. His tail was stubby, but sprouted four impressively long spikes, and his face was wide eye’d with a beak rather then a toothy maw. Gil’s wings, Evie noticed, folded inelegantly against the outside of his shell, a bit like messy accordion blinds. No doubt they were quite large in order to help such a bulky creature fly.

“Gil is a Coastal Dragon. They usually live out by the sea, in the sand,” Uma explained, heaving the creature to the side where he flopped to his belly unbothered, still holding the bright red flower in his beak, “Harry picked him up when he was traveling, and he’s been with us ever since. He’s a lazy beast,” Uma complained, tapping the creature’s shell with a boot, “doesn’t do jack-shit other then lay around all day,”

Evie couldn’t help but laugh at this, only to jump as Gil made a noise. It sounded almost like a tired, sad foghorn.

“He’s been crying like that all morning,”Uma drawled, “the minute he figured out I was coming here, he wouldn’t let me leave without him,”

“Why would he do that?” Evie asked, frowning slightly in confusion as Ben rubbed the back of his head and Uma glanced at him expectantly.

“Princess! Your boyfriend’s here!” Ben called out, his voice echoing through the tall vaulted ceiling of their house. Puzzled for a moment, Evie turned as Audrey’s birdsong reached her ear. It only took a second before the pink bullet - wings fully outstretched - glided into the room. Gil, who had previously been laying down, leapt up faster then Evie ever could’ve imagined for such a stocky beast. His accordion wings unfurled like a whip, and Uma tugged Evie backwards a step as he gave one powerful flap and was in the air.

“Sweet Merlin, he’s massive,” Evie breathed in wonder, watching as Gil captured Audrey in a mid-flight embrace, enfolding her between his arms and resting his large head on her crest, “are they...?”

“Together,” Ben confirmed with a nod, “it was a surprise to us to, once we figured it out,”

“Gil is romantic, the big lug,” Uma chuckled, placing her hands on her hips as Gil transferred the rose he’d been keeping to Audrey, who somehow managed to tuck it behind her ear flap in a very teenage-girl like manner, “he gets it from Harry, I think. Sorry about your rose bushes, Ben.” Uma admitted, grimacing slightly as Ben merely chuckled.

“It’s alright. The gardeners will take care of it,”

“Right then. So, you told me you had a sick dragon here?” Uma asked Evie, “and it’s clearly not Audrey,”

“My dragon, Mal, has been sick for a few days now,” Evie told the woman, returning to fretting over her best friend, “She’s really dull and tired, and even more cranky then usual,”

“Hm, that could be a number of things,” Uma pondered, heaving her black duffle up over one shoulder, “what breed is she?”

“An Isle Dragon. At least I think she is. I got the egg as a gift. Mom didn’t ever tell me where she got it from,”

“Well, let’s get to it then. I want out of here before Gil starts mimicking Audrey’s love songs,”

And so the trio left the foyer, heading upstairs into the large upper floor. Ben had made Mal her own special quarantine room. Audrey’s claw marks were all over the door’s painted exterior, showing where she’d been trying to get in earlier.

“I’ll have to talk to that girl,” Ben mumbled at reaching the door, ruffling his hair and groaning at the idea of having to fix the damage. Audrey wasn’t normally destructive, and Evie thought maybe she was coming down with something like Mal had. But Uma merely shook her head.

“It’s only natural,” she explained, opening the door and flicking on the light, “Audrey and Mal have probably already formed a family unit. It’s normal for one dragon to comfort another in times of pain or illness,”

“But Mal and Audrey quarrel constantly,” Evie complained, “they never get along,”

“Maybe so, but Dragons aren’t solitary in the wild. They build family units to survive. You did the right thing though, keeping Audrey out of here,” Uma admitted, kicking the door closed with a boot. Mal was laying in her basket, snoozing the day away unbothered by their entrance.

“I’m going to go call mom and dad,” Ben said to Evie quietly, “see if I can’t get someone down here to fix the door, and the bushes. You’ll be ok here with Uma?”

“Yeah. Love you,”

Sharing a quick kiss on the lips , Ben gave a half wave to Uma before skirting back out the door and vanishing.

“You two are good together,” Uma commented a little while later, removing a stethoscope from her bag and slinging it around her neck, “I was surprised when Ben said he was getting married,”

“Oh?”

Sinking down onto a low stool, Evie watched as Uma very carefully checked Mal’s heartbeat, “why do you say that?”

Uma switched the stethoscope for an ear tool as she began checking Mal’s ear holes.

“I dunno; it just never seemed like he could find the right fit. Hell, even we tried it out once,” Uma admitted with a laugh. This caused Evie’s stomach to drop like a rock. She didn’t mean for the green eye’d monster to make an appearance, but she couldn’t help it. After all, it had only been a few months, and she was nothing like Uma.

“Uh...why didn’t it work out? You and Ben?”

“Ah, we aren’t anything alike, really,” Uma said, satisfied with Mal’s ears and digging around in her bag for a moment, “I was always gone, you know? And of course Ben has his parents business to worry about. He needed someone who could keep up with him. Ah,” finding what she was looking for, Uma removed a small ‘T’ shaped device from the bag, “let’s just take the temperature,”

With a beep, Uma looked at the little digital screen and nodded. She put her tools away, removing a stuffed toy from inside her bag and tucking it under one of Mal’s fat arms.

“You, Evie, seem like just the right type for him,” Uma insisted with a sharp nod, rising from her place on the floor and wiping her hands on her jeans, “as for Mal, I suspect a cold is to blame for this. Where does she normally sleep?”

“Uh, up in the rafters above my bed. She used to sleep next to me, but I share a bed with Ben now. Audrey usually sleeps on her perch,”

“Ah. I suggest maybe installing a heat lamp up there, or building a nesting box. I think she’s getting to cold at night. Dragons are sensitive to that sort of thing,”

“I didn’t know,” Evie admitted, “thank you, Uma,”

“Anytime. I love Dragons, and Ben is still a great friend so I’ll help him out when I can. Anyway, Mal should be back to her normal self in a few days. Keep her warm and eating normally, and if anything changes, call me again and I’ll come back,”

“Can Audrey be allowed back in?” Evie asked, holding the door open for Uma to leave as the girl shook her head.

“No. Keep Mal in here and resting until she’s closer to her normal self. No need to risk Audrey catching whatever she has.”

“Ok. I can do that,” Evie nodded, following Uma back downstairs. Ben was standing in the yard out front, looking over the trampled rose bushes. Audrey and Gil were cuddled up within the broken branches, warm and content in a nest of prickly thorns and velvet petals.

“I think Gil might be more romantic then you, Ben,” Evie joked, looping her arm through her husbands as the man made an offended noise in his throat.

“So you want rose petals?” He asked, “I can do that,”

“Mhm, whatever you say,”

“So how’s Mal? Everything ok?”

“She’ll be just fine,” Uma restated, “Evie knows what needs to be done. As for you, Harry wants to get together at some point for a guys night.”

“Will do. I’ll call him and Jay when I have time,”

Bobbing her head in understanding, Uma gently prodded Gil with a toe through the nest, causing him to lift his head groggily.

“Alright, big fella. Kiss your girlfriend goodbye, we need to get going,”

Gil gave a sad little moan and Uma shook her head, “no complaints. I’m the captain here. Now kisses, and let’s go,”

Evie couldn’t help her little ‘awe’ as Gil reluctantly gave Audrey a little cheek nudge before standing and romping out of the bushes unhappily. Ben picked his own dragon up from the thorns, cradling her like a baby as she wailed dramatically.

“Do you cry like that every time I leave the house?” Evie asked as Uma hauled Gil into her Jeep, leaving poor Audrey heartbroken and hanging limply off Ben’s arm.

“No,” Ben insisted, using his free hand to grasp Evie’s as he gave it a squeeze, “I’m even worse.”

—

A/N: So...this is officially an AU! I’m calling it the Love Like Dragons AU. Basically Auradon is just a normal city (no prince and princesses, no pirates, ect.). Ben is the heir to his wealthy parents business rather then being a King. And the only ‘magical’ thing in Auradon is the dragons part of it. If you have any questions or suggestions for the AU, ping me :3

[deathwis-archived]

@pseudoneiric whispered : ‘ you were given very clear instructions not to go and do exactly what you did. ’ (ways to react to an injury, to matt from lele!)

“you know, for something not your business, your nose sure is up in it.”

there's an ache in his shoulder, a throbbing sensation nestled between all the nerves skin-deep. it's spreading throughout his body, actually. ; specifically making rounds in his temples where he barely fights back the urge to massage the skin there. matt accurately guesses the newfound tension is from a certain bossy hustler, who remains crowding him even after he's humiliated himself in front of the whole group. the fresh memory is enough to shake him again, ivory skin flushing scarlet when he recalls the circle of angered and disappointed faces invading his space. all while he was crumbled on the floor, cry muffled between gritted teeth ; nursing his shoulder. the so called 'guardian' of this wretched house was a pain to distract. landing matt in hot waters when the thing barreled right past him, rushing the poor big game hunter. since the accident, he's been out of the game taking place outside. forced to lean on the pitying mobster in order to collapse on the couch.

for some reason he can't find an ounce of logic in, lele has made it her duty to stay back. mouth running a mile a minute, tone annoyingly loud as she scolds him the whole time. he digs his fingers into the dip of his shoulder, air hissing between teeth as he does his best to ignore her. if you don't give the hustler what she pathetically craves, which is ( as he's concluded ) attention, then she'll flock away to squawk at someone else. doesn't make the experience any more pleasant, though ... it makes his already overworked brain swarm with unneeded thoughts. images of him giving lele the hell she rightfully deserved. to take his foot and kick out, just to relish in her face when he knocks her down a few pegs. she acts so untouchable, with her posse of people who somehow tolerate her, but matt knows she'll tire everyone out eventually. people like her always do. she'll push too far and soon the professor will be on the victorious end. at least his friends ( few and far between ) are loyal. tim and joey? he wouldn't trade them for anything in the world, even if the savant's been ... talking lele up to him. how awkward, if he's putting it mildly.

( almost as awkward as tim teasing him for liking the nuisance ... okay, so maybe he's giving his friends too much credit )

one thought keeps prattling about. enough so that his eyes find hers, taking in her clumpy mascara and braided blonde hair. matt purses his lips, prepared to see her hysterics when he asks the question everyone's wondering. “why do you care so much about what i'm doing? if i'm raising that blood pressure of yours, you're free to get away from me.” he gestures a paled hand towards the entryway. then, with a little bravo, he also adds, “are can you actually not stay away?”

a little bit ago, before the professor was thoroughly embarrassed, he heard whispers. saw from the corner of his tired eyes as sierra whispered to eva, huddled too close to be anything but a juicy secret he needed to hear. it's stuck with him, slowly creeping under his skin like the pain is. haunting him like the deaths they've witnessed thus far. 'you know, for two people that hate each other, they're literally in every group!'

the heiress wasn't wrong. but matt couldn't be to blame for it! he knows if anyone's to blame, it's the girl before him. and so? he's going to confront it. if lele's duty is to screw up his brief resting, then he's going to make it as miserable for her as it is for him. turn about is fair play, isn't it?