#HURRY IT UP PLEASE. two years is simply unfair. we should be learning more about nations despite not being in them | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

beifongsss · 4 years

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princess yue [sokka]

Pairing: Sokka x reader (one-sided)

Requested?: no and i’m so so sorry but i really needed to just write this bc this idea had been nagging me for the longest time and im really really sorry but the reader is the Yue’s older sister it just works with the idea im sorry they’re related to a character. also i’m sorry that the reader is female. Also, do they ever say what happened to Yue’s mom? I don’t think so, so in this fic she’s dead.

Summary: You’re the crown princess of the Northern Water Tribe. Yue, your sister has just turned 16 and is already betrothed and although you are slightly older, you are not. That changes when the avatar and his friends arrive, but not in the way you think.

In this story, Yue is her normal sixteen, Sokka is fifteen going on sixteen, and the reader is sixteen going on seventeen. So you’re a year older than Sokka. also this is short and not happy but i really needed to write this.

i’m sorry :(((

.masterlist.

You had struggled with your position as crown princess for as long as you could remember.

You were Chief Arnook’s oldest daughter, just one month shy of your 17th birthday when the Avatar and friends arrived. You had greeted the group upon arrival, welcoming them to your home.

As the future Chief, you had taken it upon yourself to give the Avatar and his companions a tour around the city and you had been immediately taken with the Southern Water Tribe boy. He had made many sarcastic and witty comments throughout the tour, causing his sister to continuously smack the back of his head. You had found them endearing, even teasing him back sometimes and causing his face to break out into a blush.

To say that he had been thoroughly surprised when you were introduced as the crown princess during Yue’s birthday dinner was an understatement, panic clear on his face as he remembered his earlier behavior.

He had later apologized for his language, only to be surprised when you laughed it off, finding his honesty and humor refreshing. As crown princess, and as a woman, you found it hard to interact comfortably with the members of your community. You were constantly battling with the Council, always trying to prove that you were worthy of the throne even if you were a woman.

The moment you knew that you were fond of the Southern Water Tribe boy was when he quite literally crashed into you one night as you took a walk around the city.

“(Y-Y/N)!” Sokka had yelped, cheeks blushing and eyes wide as he realized he had addressed you in a less than formal way. “I mean, Your Highness.”

You stared at him as he bowed. “Good evening Sokka. Please, bowing isn’t necessary and (Y/N) is fine.”

Sokka smiled as he stood up straight, an embarrassed blush spreading across his face. “What are you doing out here?”

“I find that taking long walks around the city helps to clear my head,” you admitted, looking away from the boy. “Would you like to join me?”

Sokka blushed brightly before speaking. “I’m actually on my way to meet with y-your sister.”

“Oh?” you replied, your eyes widening at his words. You felt your heart drop slightly and you found yourself silently chastising yourself for your feelings. You forced a smile onto your face before continuing on your way. “You should hurry then. Make sure to stay out of sight and have a good night Sokka.”

“Good night (Y/N)!” the handsome boy replied, already making his way to the bridge where Yue was waiting for him.

Your heart felt heavy as you walked back to the palace, both from knowing that Sokka was interested in your sister and because you knew that even if Yue liked him, she was now betrothed.

Your eyes burned slightly as you sat as your desk, shuffling through various Water Tribe scrolls. The council had been giving you multiple tasks to prove your worth as the next Chief and this week they had you learning about the way Water Tribe currency had changed over the centuries.

You leaned back in your seat, rubbing at your eyes before your door slammed open. You jolted up, relaxing when you noticed it was only Yue.

“Yue, what are you doing here?” you asked, standing up and walking over to greet her. You grew concerned immediately when you noticed her sobbing. “What happened?”

Yue threw herself into your arms and you immediately embraced her, guiding her over to your bed and sitting down.

“I-It’s nothing,” Yue hiccuped, trying to calm herself down. “It’s s-stupid.”

“It can’t be stupid if it’s making you upset,” you chided softly, getting up and closing your door. “Now c’mon. What is it?”

Yue didn’t speak, instead reaching under her coat and pulling out her betrothal necklace. You nodded in understanding before sitting back down. “I take it Sokka found out?”

“How do you know about Sokka?” Yue gasped, looking up at you.

“He told me!” you cried, raising your hands in defense. “I bumped into him on my walk and I asked him to join me but he declined and said you were waiting for him.”

Yue looked at you for a few seconds before crying out. “You like him!”

“No I don’t,” you replied, feeling a blush creep on to your cheeks. “You like him.”

“Fine, I do,” Yue stated, crossing her arms as a smile spread across her face. “But so do you.”

“It’s not a big deal,” you said, trying to tell your sister that you didn’t plan on making a move on Sokka.

“Yes it is! You never like anyone!”

You winced lightly at her words, knowing she was right. “It doesn’t matter Yue. We are not talking about me. We are focusing on you.”

Yue’s face fell as she remembered why she had come to you in the first place. “You’re right. He found out I’m betrothed and I really like him but I can’t be with him.”

“That’s unfair,” you said softly, your heart breaking as you looked at your sister. “He really likes you, you know?”

“He does?” Yue asked, looking up at you. “Aren’t you upset? You like him as well.”

“I’m not,” you replied, wrapping your sister up in a hug. “I care about you so much more than I’d ever are about some boy. And yes, he really does like you.”

Silence engulfed the two of you as Yue quietly let our her tears and you thought about how to help her. You closed your eyes as you came to a possible solution, tightening your grip on Yue.

“It will all work out. I know it.”

The next day, you found yourself in the Council’s chambers, dressed in your formal Water Tribe clothes. Your father, Chief Arnook, stared at you uncertainly as he thought about what you had told him the night before. To his right sat Hahn, Yue’s betrothed.

“Why have you called us here?” Anheir, the Council’s leader, asked.

“I have come with a proposition,” you replied, walking up the Council and bowing deeply. “One that I think will please everyone.”

Anheir looked at his fellow members before glancing at your father, who simply nodded once. “You may continue.”

You didn’t get a chance to speak as voices filled the hall.

“...and here is the Council’s hall,” Yue spoke. “This is where they give their judgement whenever anyone needs to settle something.”

The hall went silent once again as Yue turned away from the group she was with and faced you. You nodded at her before glancing at her companions, bowing when you noticed Aang, Katara, and Sokka.

“I’m sorry father,” Yue said, bowing as she faced the Council. “I wasn’t aware there were any proceedings going on today.”

“It’s quite alright my dear,” Arnook replied swiftly. “I’m afraid this was something very last minute.”

“What’s going on?” Aang asked, eyes wide as he looked around the grand room.

“We are settling an important matter concerning the crown princess,” Anheir said before motioning to the empty seats beside Hahn. “Perhaps the Avatar would like to sit and observe how our Tribe’s Council operates? Your companions are more than welcome to stay.”

You closed your eyes and inhaled sharply as they agreed. You shook your head slightly as Yue sat down, shooting you a confused glance. You hadn’t wanted her here during your proposition.

“Now Princess (Y/N),” Anheir addressed you once more. “You may proceed.”

You nodded once, glancing at your sister before speaking. “As you know, I am next in line for the throne, and in a little more than a year I will be ascending and taking my father’s place.”

The council exchanged disapproving looks, which didn’t go unnoticed by the Gaang.

“What’s their problem?” Sokka grumbled almost imperceptibly as he leaned closer to Yue. The princess didn’t flinch but acknowledged his words with a whisper of her own.

“Our tribe is very traditional and they do not believe that a woman, much less one who isn’t betrothed or married, should lead us,” Yue replied, her eyes shifting towards Sokka. “They don’t want her to be in charge.”

“That’s dumb,” Sokka replied, shooting a glare at the Council. Yue smiled softly at his response.

“I am also aware that you disapprove of me leading the Tribe. Please don’t deny it, I’ve heard what you’ve said to my father,” you continued, your lips twitching when you heard Aang and Sokka try to choke back their snickers. “That is why I have come to you today to offer you a solution to ease your worries.”

You took a deep breath before continuing, “I believe that the Council will feel much more at ease if I have a husband ruling at my side; someone to help me when making important decisions that pertains to the good of our Tribe. I do not think I will be able to find a husband within a year, especially not with my duties as crown princess. This is why I am here today to ask you to let me take my sister Yue’s place in her betrothal.”

The room erupted into gasps at your words. The Council looked bewildered, exchanging surprised looks with one another. Katara was also surprised at your words, letting out a gasp. Aang and Sokka’s jaws dropped and Yue stood up, making her way over to Arnook.

“Father! You can’t possibly allow her to do this. It’s my betrothal,” Yue cried out. All her life she had looked up to you for being independent, claiming that you didn’t need a man by your side and refusing every betrothal that had been proposed by the Council. You had always told her that you would be the first single, female Tribal Chief. You were everything she had ever wished she was.

“Sit down Yue,” Arnook said, his face remaining impassive. “This is the Council’s decision.”

Frowning, Yue walked back over to Sokka, but didn’t sit.

“What happened to being an independent, powerful leader?” Anheir finally asked, a mocking edge to his voice. Your jaw clenched at his words and you tried to control your temper. Meeting Anheir’s gaze, you threw yourself to your knees.

“Forgive me Council,” you stated, keeping your head bent down as you forced the words out. You were doing this so Yue could be happy. “I was wrong. There could never be a powerful female leader and I was foolish to think I could change that.”

“(Y/N), you can’t possible mean that!” Yue cried out, beginning to step forwards before she was held back by Sokka, who gave her a subtle shake of his head.

“Indeed you were,” Anheir said, agreeing with your statement. “We agree with you. You don’t have what it takes to rule alone. We approve your request. From here on out, Princess Yue’s betrothal to Hahn is no more that is, if the men agree as well.”

You shifted your gaze to your father who still remained emotionless. He met your gaze and you nodded your head, sealing your fate.

“I have no objection,” Arnook said. “I wanted her betrothed to Hahn when she first turned sixteen. I am proud to see she has finally come to her senses,”

“Father, don’t do this,” Yue begged once more. She was promptly ignored.

“What about you Hahn?” Anheir questioned, turning to face the handsome young soldier.

Hahn walked over to you and bowed deeply before straightening, a proud smirk on his face. “It would be my honor to marry the beautiful princess.”

He picked up your hand and pressed a kiss to it. “I will get started on your necklace right away.”

“What about me?” Yue cried out. “Don’t I get a say in this?”

“Be quiet Yue,” you cut in sharply, your face set in a harsh glare. “Your opinion doesn’t matter.”

Yue’s face fell immediately at your words, tears springing up in her eyes. She turned away from you, running from the hall as the Gaang went after her.

~ “I don’t understand.” Yue spoke sadly as Katara gave her a hug. “Why would she do that? She never wanted to be betrothed and if she did she always said that she wanted it to be on her terms.”

“Maybe she did this for you,” Katara said softly, trying to calm the girl down.

“I did.”

Everyone turned to face the door, where they found you leaning against it. You were still dressed formally, having followed Yue immediately after the Council had dismissed you. You walked closer, sitting on Yue’s other side and wrapping an arm around her when Katara stood up.

“What?” Yue asked, looking up at you through her tears. “Why?”

“It was the best logical course of action,” you commented with a shrug. “At least this way the Council is satisfied, I am no longer at risk of losing the throne, and Hahn gets to live out his weird power hungry fantasies.”

Yue chuckled at your words. “But now you’re engaged. To Hahn! You hate him!”

“I don’t hate him!” you exclaimed, earning a challenging look from your sister. “Okay he’s not my favorite person but at least he’s nice to look at. That’ll make being married to him somewhat easier. Besides, you would’ve been miserable with him.”

“But you had a chance at happiness,” she countered. “You could’ve had a chance with Sokka!”

The boy in question choked on his spit at Yue’s words, looking at you with disbelieving eyes. Katara’s jaw dropped, not believing that his brother had somehow managed to woo not one, but two princesses. You blushed as you swatted Yue, silently berating her for exposing your feelings.

“No, he likes you. Even if I had a chance with him I would never forgive myself for being with him when I knew you liked him,” you spoke softly, your gaze not leaving Yue. “That’s why I had to do this. Without Hahn, you’re free to be with whoever you want. I already cleared this up with dad. Your happiness means the world to me Yue, and as long as you’re happy, I will be the happiest woman in the world.”

Yue looked up at you with glittering eyes before engulfing you in a hug. “Thank you. I just wish you had told me before you did it.”

“You would’ve told me not to,” you laughed, hugging her close. “But this is the happiest I’ve seen you since mom died.”

The two of you hugged tightly, Yue finally understanding why you had gone ahead and butted in to her engagement. The silence didnt last long however, as Sokka spoke.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” he began, a small smile spreading across his face. “But both of you like me?”

Katara rolled her eyes and smacked the back of his, causing everyone to laugh. “Shut up Sokka.”

“Ow!”

once again i apologize a million times for making the reader yue’s sister but this idea had been bugging me for so long and i really had to write this out.

taglist!

@mywigglybaby, @musicalkeys

#sokka x reader #atla sokka x reader #avatar #avatar: tla #avatar: the last airbender #avatar x reader #aang #katara #sokka #yue #princess yue #zuko x reader

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the-darklings · 4 years

Note

yooo!!!! that 2nd part to the vampire au was soooo good, i think you should at least make one more, just saying. also, loved how you included more of john in this one!

𝙑𝘼𝙈𝙋𝙄𝙍𝙀!𝘼𝙐: 【01】| 【02】| 【2.5】| 【03】| 【3.5】|

wc: 4.1k 🤡

“The situation in the East keeps escalating,” the man beside you speaks and you listen silently, not letting any emotion show at his reproachful tone. “Camorra’s power keeps growing. The more treaties they establish, the more creatures they recruit into their ranks, the more their power peaks. You and Johnathan must stay focused. The High Priest says that this war is just beginning.”

“We are focused, Winston,” you say and wince when a jolt rushes through your body. Walking is painful and even with the mild warmth of the sun and gentle breeze brushing against your skin, a bead of sweat still trails down the back of your neck. Your back feels raw and inflamed but you fight not to let your discomfort show. “John has been away for two weeks dealing with the werewolves and—”

“And your little incident was deemed as a failure,” the older man cuts you off, glancing your way as his hands fold in front of him. “The Camorra Devil…honestly. What were you thinking? You’ve been told not to use the Holy Text. You’re lucky it was Charon that found you and not one of the many foul things prowling those streets.”

You huff a breath, clenching your jaw. “I'm aware. What was I supposed to do? Let the Devil drain that girl?”

“One human life is not worth your life,” Winston says sharply, his eyes narrowing. “You and Johnathan are the only Holy Hunters of your generation. You fail to realise your own importance.”

Hardly.

Stronger, faster, smarter, and with prolonged lifespans. You are not supernatural but you are hardly human either.

You are neither. You are both.

Your and Jardani’s names are known wide and far and being considered a legend before your death comes with a certain amount of scrutiny. Expectation.

Something the High Priest, The Adjudicator, nor Winston ever fail to remind you of.

“I thought the Holy Church protects all. Cares for all life equally.”

Winston’s head slants, the look in those old eyes knowing. “The Holy Church cares for the bigger picture. Which, at this time, is winning this war.”

He steps ahead of you and you watch his dark robes in the sunlight as his fingers brush over the rose petals.

The Prayer Garden is in full bloom. It’s a site of reflection, of prayer, of hope and atonement.

But the sickly sweet scent of flowers makes you dizzy so you try to slow your breaths, focusing on the man before you instead.

“You will track down the necromancer again and remove him,” Winston states after few minutes of tranquil silence between you. “And once that is done you will return to the church for your Remaking.”

“Why?“

It slips out before you can stop it and your mouth snaps shut, a sting of regret following right after. Winston twists to face you, his eyes narrowed, and he pointedly glances around the garden, making sure that no one heard your slip up.

At the church, there are no questions, only obedience. The will of the twelve priests and especially the High Priest himself is to be followed without questions or doubts.

And their will is that you are not ready to use the Holy Text. That you need to undergo Remaking often—at least twice a year, if not more—and do so without question. Despite the agony of having to lay down on that cold slab of stone and feel the Holy Text being recarved into your skin anew.

You’ve learned long ago how to stop the tears and the screaming. Not when you know that the High Priest’s hands will not be gentler for it. If anything, the blades always cut harder, more intently, and whether it’s to encourage or quell the anguish has always been beyond you. But the way the man always traces his work as if in reverence after never fails to leave you feeling dirty and used.

It’s unfair that you have to go through it over and over again when Jardani hasn’t visited the catacombs in years.

They say it’s because your power is less stable than his. That the Remaking simply keeps that potent holy power in your veins flowing freely so it never fails you.

Yet it always makes you feel the opposite. Usually, you’re left feeling heavy and aching with pain for days after. Muffled somehow.

Winston gazes at you for a long moment before nodding his head. “Come with me.”

You, as always, follow him without question and the priest is mute as you approach a more secluded area of the garden. Few wander here, and if they do it’s for reflection only.

“You have a fierce heart,” Winston begins and you blink, trying to focus on his words. “It burns right out of you. And while it makes you special, it’s also your greatest enemy. You feel too much. Want too much.”

His brief glance at you is telling enough.

Jardani.

Winston has never spoken his suspicions out loud but you know he’s always suspected that the nature of your relationship has long since changed.

“I—”

“Don’t bother. The less I know the better.”

His words are hard as the look in his eyes and your gaze lowers.

He knows that if anyone found out the punishment that would befall you would be terrible. Brutal. So he doesn’t ask. He won’t risk it.

Silence follows again and you swallow heavily, blinking at the heat of sun against your face. Gods above, even with your lightest clothes, you can’t help but feel like you’re cooking in your skin.

Your back is twinging with dull pain and you silently curse the vampire prince for the thousandth time.

Every since your encounter with the Camorra’s Devil, the prince has been appearing in your sleep every night.

It’s been two weeks of him haunting every second of your slumber.

Every night you escape by breaking out of his grip and every night he makes it harder to do so. He’s testing you, you know that. Seeing just how far that power in your veins can be pushed.

He drives you near insane with his silky whispers and promises of joy and pleasure and power. With every sly suggestion and accidental caress. He never oversteps and that, perhaps, makes it even worse. You want to hate those green eyes.

But he’s found a way to burrow himself deep under your skin. He marvels at your abilities, always eager to see more—as infuriatingly alluring as he is arrogant.

Every night you awaken from your feverish dreams with your skin slick with sweat and your back aching. The Holy Text seems to itch for hours after, and the only way to suppress the raging fire in your veins is to submerge yourself in a tub of freezing water for at least half an hour.

It’s gotten so bad that you see him in every dark corner now. Catch glimpses of his green eyes everywhere you look and hear a whisper of his voice in your ear wherever you go. However hard you look, however, he’s never actually there and you know that he can’t be. He is breathtakingly powerful but even he would never risk coming into the beating heart that is the Holy Church itself.

“Are you listening to me?”

“What?”

You blink, snapping out of your thoughts and find Winston frowning at you, his lips twisted into a dismayed line.

“What’s gotten into you lately?” he questions briskly, the heavy furrow of his brows telling a tale of his subtle worry. “You haven’t been the same since—”

“Your Holiness.”

Your address interrupts Winston’s shrewd words and you bow to your waist, gritting your teeth at the flare of agony through your back muscles. The High Priest, or The Elder as some still refer to him, expects nothing less. As one of his Holy Hunter’s you only have to bow your head, others have to get on their knees before the man.

Something deep down in your chest scratches and snarls as you stare at the ground, your head ringing.

Do not bow to him—

A hand touches your chin, raising your head and effectively banishing the distant voice that sounds too much like the green-eyed prince from your head.

“My child,” the man utters, his voice soft. You keep your eyes lowered respectfully but he raises your chin higher and you focus on him only, overlooking the familiar raven-haired man behind him. Even if your heart yearns to look at him. It’s been two long weeks without him after all. “It pleases me to see you out and about once again.”

“I apologise for any worry caused.”

The High Priest brushes his thumb against your jaw and something in your gut twists.

Winston and your Jardani are quiet and you don’t dare to look away from the man before you. His white robes billow in the faint breeze, adding to the sounds of nature and trees.

The man inspects you for a long, solemn moment, unblinking.

“I hope this can be a valuable lesson to you, my child,” he says, and there is just enough ice lacing his voice that it feels like one of your blades scraping against your throat. “My words are to be heeded. Always.”

Your heart hammering in your chest, you only manage to dip your head in small a nod. “Yes, Your Holiness.“

The man finally releases your face and you try to mask you relief.

“Good,” he mutters, his dark eyes piercing. “I assume Winston has informed you of your next course of action?”

He doesn’t wait for your reply, his voice stern but tempered, “You will hurry with your task and then return for your Remaking,” he continues, pausing on the last word and something shifts in those dark depths just for a second as he scrutinises you. “I need my Holy Hunters strong and pure. This war will get worse before it will get better.”

Pure.

A manic laugh almost bubbled out of you there and then.

Pure. What a joke. If only he knew about the wicked, sinful things you and Jardani do in the folds of the shadows. If only he knew how your bodies tangle together till you can’t separate your edges from his as you drive each other to ecstasy. Smothering every whimper and moan and sigh, stealing and hoarding every moment between you out of fear that it might be your last.

There is nothing holy about what you two do in the dark. Or perhaps you’re wrong. Perhaps the holiest thing about either of you is how you share each other.

Because there is divinity to be found in the feeling of his mouth on you.

“Come, Winston,” the High Priest calls out, his gaze finally moving away from you and towards the older man. “Johnathan has returned with some interesting information regarding the werewolves. The Table must hold council.”

Winston dips his head graciously and the High Priest glances at you again before looking behind him where your Jardani stands clad in black. He’s like a storm could, an ink stain, marring a perfectly happy scene.

“Do not disappoint me, my children.”

A warning if you’ve ever heard one, even if his voice remains amiable.

You know better than to doubt its sincerity though.

You both bow as one, and force yourself to speak the monotonous oath out loud, “I have served. I will be of service.“

You don’t look at each other the entire way back to the Northern Building.

The Holy Church has massive, sprawling grounds with several buildings all blessed to withstand attacks from the darkest creatures lurking throughout the land. You doubt even Giovanni D'Antonio with all his endless, monstrous power could break through the wards etched into the very air here.

You and Jardani keep easy, meaningless conversation as you pass other members of the Holy Church. Nuns and priests and healers. Forgers of weapons. Other hunters. Just human. Ordinary apart from being trained.

You and Jardani are a different breed. Standing apart from everyone else here.

You’ve managed to keep your relationship a secret by never giving anyone any room for suspicion. Except for Winston, clearly, but that man always had a gift of reading you both like an open book.

The Northern Building is special for one reason. That reason being that the entire structure belongs to the Holy Hunters and no one else.

Of which there are only two in this generation.

You keep several feet distance between you, partake in dull, meaningless conversation that won’t catch anyone’s attention the entire way there.

But the moment the doors close you slam into each other eagerly, your hands greedy and desperate as you tangle in each other.

Your back hits the door and you hold back a wince of pain as he kisses you with enough passion to stall your breathing. His warm sigh tickles your lips and you moan into his kiss, tangling your fingers in his raven strands. The heat between you, the tingle of pleasure that comes from simply kissing him, manages to dull the pain a little and you melt into his embrace.

Your dark shadow.

Gods above you’ve missed him. So very much.

“I heard about what happened,” he whispers against your mouth when you part for breath and his thumb strokes down your cheek. There is a brief second in which his touch gets replaced by a man with cold eyes and eerily calm voice but you shake it immediately. “I worried. Are you injured?”

His other hand rests against your lower back and you ignore the pain that touch brings, focusing only on him. You lean forward, pressing a kiss against the corner of his mouth.

“I’m fine,” you reassure him and tug on his hair, delighting in the familiar gleam in those dark pools. A desire for you. A flame that never stops burning no matter how much he insists that you shouldn’t do this—shouldn’t touch or kiss or fuck like the world is seconds away from ending. But he can’t deny you. He can never deny you. “Missed you,” you add because it’s true.

His expression softens, the impassive man fading for your eyes alone. “I missed you more,” he tells you softly and lays a careful peck against your lips; fleeting and tender.

But you don’t want fleeting and tender.

Your nails drag against his neck and his expression strains under your deliberate coaxing.

“Jardani,” you hum quietly and kiss his jaw, pressing into him. “My Jardani. My umbra mortis.“

“You’re upset.”

You still. “I’m not.”

“The Remaking—”

“Don’t.”

Your voice is an icy, shaky exhale. Jardani just looks sad but a shadow lingers across his expression, too. He hates seeing you suffering. But this isn’t the outside world, he can’t kill those that would harm you. All he can do is wait for when you are brought back from the ceremony, swaying and delirious, and too weak and drained to do anything for the next three days. All he can do is hold you as you sob into his chest after, begging him to never let them touch you again even though you both know that there is no other choice. He doesn’t bother making you promises he can’t keep.

He touches your face then, your foreheads almost touching. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s agony, Jardani. I can’t—”

His fingers smooth over your hair, his expression dark, distant. “If there was another way…”

Your smile is bitter. “But there isn’t. I must obey or they will force me. And if they ever find out about us they will kill me or banish me—”

“No,” he cuts you off and this time his voice is lower, harsher; practically a growl that rumbles from deep within. “I would never let them hurt you. I would kill them all.”

You cup his face, desperate to have him closer. “I hate it here, Jardani,” you confess in a wet whisper. “This place is a prison. I feel like I'm suffocating here. Have been for years.”

He kisses your cheek and then again, trailing up. Your brow, forehead, nose; a handful of caresses at the time. Lastly, he kisses your lips, dragging you to him carefully and you hold onto him. Your shadow and sanctuary and home.

“I will find a way,” he vows quietly against your quivering mouth, his voice a deep rumble. “I will find a way, moy svet.”

My light.

His mother tongue rolls off his tongue effortlessly and you shudder at the dark, reassuring blanket those words wrap around you.

You kiss him again—all teeth and hunger and fingertips seeking his heat—and with his strength he picks you up easily, your legs wrapping around him soundlessly.

You don’t make it to the bedroom.

You awaken in silk.

You’re so used to it by now that for a handful of seconds you don’t stir, simply lying there.

He isn’t beside you.

A surprise.

He seems to delight in watching your expression when you wake up with him hovering near or trailing his fingertips down your arm. Once you woke up with his arm partially curled around you, holding you close, practically against his chest.

You punched him right in his smug face.

A downside of this being the dream world is that no real damage could be done. It still didn’t stop the swell of satisfaction you felt at the way his head snapped to the side, clearly haven’t had expected an attack even with his finely honed predator instincts.

Or perhaps he simply didn’t see you as a threat.

Or trusted you enough to lower his guard which was a thought you had banished the second it came because it was absurd.

You had felt self-satisfied until he laughed, grinning widely, his cheeks dimpling.

“You’re a delight,” he had purred and his lack of wrath had been as surprising as realising how appealing his smile is. “Now imagine what you could do with an immortal’s strength, hm?”

But he is not beside you this time.

Your head slants and you find him sitting a little further away from the bed, bathed in the beam of light coming from a window overhead.

It takes you a moment to realise what he’s doing.

He's painting.

A brush between those long, graceful fingers moves lovingly like he’s taking all the care in the world to make sure that whatever he’s trying to capture is done so to perfection. As if not one mistake could be afforded.

At least this time he’s not naked.

It took you a few visits to realise that you come to the dream world dressed in whatever you had fallen asleep in.

Though the realisation that the vampire prince sleeps naked between his silken sheets had warmed something in your blood.

“My mother was a great lover of art,” he begins conversationally, still focusing on his work. You sit up deliberately, watching the ripple of his back muscles as he shifts in his seat, facing away from you. “Personally, I never saw much appeal in it. Just a bit of paint on canvas, you understand? That changed after she met Eternal Death. There is indeed something, hm, extraordinary about creation in such a form.”

Your bare feet touch the floor and your fingers grip the edges of the bed as you observe him silently.

From this angle, you finally get a glimpse of what he’s working on.

It's you.

But not.

The woman depicted on canvas has your features. Your lips and nose and hair and colouring but—

But your eyes are something else. They look like they’re raging from within even though your expression is captured as calm and composed—almost empyreal. Your gaze is strong, consuming, sensual and fierce. It demands to be looked at. Respected. Admired.

He’s painted you as you could be, you realise numbly, an immortal like him.

His head turns towards you when you stand shakily on your feet, your fingers gripping the side of your nightgown tightly between your fingers.

The vampire prince eyes you with a slight twitch of his lips as light plays across his tanned skin and wild curls.

He’s dangerous.

For the first time, you feel that understanding settle deep in your bones but—

“Do you not like it, amore?”

“I want to leave.”

If you didn’t know any better you would say that he looks disappointed at that. But it’s gone in a blink, whatever it is, so you can’t be sure.

“You are free to leave whenever you please, bella,” he tells you dismissively, raising the brush back between his fingers. “Don’t let me stop you.”

Brushing past him, you let your fingers clench, trying to pull on the power in your veins.

“I don’t want to come here anymore,” you bite out, glancing at him over your shoulder before turning to face him fully. “I'm done playing your games.”

Santino’s head tilts, humming in consideration, and it’s hard to think of him as a vampire—the enemy—when he looks so breathtaking in this blinding, warm light. When he looks so approachable, almost normal.

“Hm. You are exceedingly attractive when angry,” he notes with a sliver of a smirk, peering at you curiously and the green of his eyes is piercing. “What other angry words are you going to bestow upon me, hm? I do so admire a sharp tongue.“

His attention transfers to your mouth and you scowl at him.

”Enough, Santino.“

Shit.

It slipped out.

You’ve always addressed him as “D'Antonio” or “vampire” but never by his given name.

His smirk disappears instantly, something stuttering across his expression; a flicker of emotion you don’t quite understand passing over his features.

“Say it again.”

You don’t think you have seen him sound or look quite so serious.

“What?”

“My name,” he utters, his gaze burning. “Say it again.”

Forcing oxygen into your lungs, you breathe a deliberate, vicious, “Santino.”

He’s in front of you in a blink and fear is not the reason why you step away. He stalks closer, his lips parted and you see his fingers form loose fists.

“Again.”

It’s an order and your lips press together when your back kisses the cold stone of his room.

This isn’t real, you try to remind yourself, it’s just a dream. But one’s mind has the power to make things real. The Dream Realm is just as powerful as any other reality.

His hand braces next to your head and you stare at each other for a halted breath.

His body is tense, coiled, his attention focused solely on you. With the light falling from behind him, it looks like a halo is caressing the crown of his head. He resembles an angel even if you know the devil lurks beneath.

“San-ti-no.”

He leans closer and you exhale forcefully, your lips parting.

“You,” he murmurs softly and you feel his fingertips brush up your bare arm, making goosebumps explode across your skin. “Are more dangerous than sunlight."

You force your suddenly dry tongue to work. "I thought… that the sun doesn’t affect a pureblooded vampire like you?”

He’s close enough that you can feel his breath against your lips.

Not real. Not real. Not real—

“No, it doesn’t,” he agrees lightly under his breath, the velvety promise of his lips brushing against the edge of your jaw. “Ah, but it’s very good at something else, bella. Can you guess what that is, hm?”

His lips part against the curve of your jaw, a puff of air tickling your skin, and your head tips to the side, his large hand coming to grip your hip. You’re not sure which one of you he’s trying to steady.

“No.”

His nose slips down, dragging against your skin and he freezes, inhaling deeply. A low snarl erupts from deep in his chest and he nuzzles against your neck intently.

Through the dizzying haze, there blooms confusion, but then you remember the fact he can no doubt smell Jardani on you. Maybe even scent you earlier lovemaking. You would be surprised if the intensity of it didn’t leave a mark.

“It’s very good,” he hisses against your ear, his breath prickling against your skin and his fingers flex against your hip. “At making us weak.”

Choking down a gasp, you try to pull back but he ducks his head against your neck again, his lips pressing a featherlight kiss against your fluttering pulse.

“They’re lying to you,” he reveals in a hoarse whisper when his head lifts and your eyes clash. He looks ravenous, wild. His eyes are more black than green. “You are so much more than they’re trying to convince you, amore. Let me show you. Let me."

His grip on you constricts.

You blink; once, twice, and bare your teeth at him before promptly snapping the tether between you in half.

There is a glimpse of fury before you are dragged back to wakefulness.

You fly up into a sitting position, your skin damp and throat dry.

Every inch of you tingles made only worse by an acute ache between you thighs.

”Fuck.“

…

an: hahaha…….i’m in trouble :) also apologies for any mistakes. one edit only and done at 2:30am ayyyy. hope you enjoyed jfghfdg please don’t try and ask me why i’m actually trying to build a world/lore/plot because “i’m stupid” will always be the answer jhdfg. also I just really dig the feral/dark vibe of this AU so *shrugs*

#john wick x reader #santino d'antonio x reader #john wick #john wick fic #vampire au #supernatural au #we love clownery!!!! goodnight!!!#s: no one could be him #s: i can wait

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jonghoshoe · 4 years

Text

Hearts Awakened, Love Afraid

Proofreading? idk her, I almost lost this entire fic I refuse to read through it all rn.

Summary: Seonghwa hasn't had a letter from Hongjoong in weeks, he finds out why.

Pairing: Seonghwa x Hongjoong, side Wooyoung x Yeosang

Word Count: I finally hit 3k words :)

Contains: I honestly don't know what to put. It starts okay but gets sad real fast, there’s death and mentions of blood, homophobia, references to suicide ig? Maybe a descent into madness too.

It’s fucking dark ok.

@mingi-ivity

Used lyric prompts from @taesblue . ‘’Can I trust you if I give you myself?’’ And ‘’Will you now forever remain out of reach of my arms?’’

It’s barely dawn when Seonghwa receives the letters, stacked up high and bound with a ribbon. He recognises it as being from one of his shirts as a child, he and Hongjoong had play fought that day, and when it’d torn off he had insisted that he kept it, fabric still attached and fraying thanks to the expert seamstress.

The collection of writings is passed to him by a masked man, an associate of Hongjoong apparently, he wouldn’t give his name but Seonghwa feels as if he’s seen him before once, when Hongjoong had brought him to a lovely garden as children, it was by a small house at the edge of the city. Hongjoong knew him supposedly, though the man was a teen at the time. Despite face now being covered. He’s almost positive it’s him. He’d told them his name back then, Seonghwa doesn’t remember what but it was something biblical.

Seonghwa and the masked man don't exchange many words, the man simply confirming his relation to Hongjoong, saying that he had passed and had wanted these passed on to him.

It isn’t until the twilight of that day when Seonghwa finally has time to read the pile of letters, his royal duties taking up so much time of the day. And he can already feel his gut wrenching when he reads the note atop the pile.

If you’re reading these then something has happened and I have no use in keeping them. Maybe something has been revealed, I’ve gone missing or been killed, maybe I just finally needed to let things be known. Maybe my whole crew has been compromised.

‘Seonghwa.

Throughout the years I've written many letters left unsent to you, sneaking me into your lessons has paid off after all. Had I been illiterate like most who are as unfortunate as me, you may have never kept in contact for so long.

Please take the time to read my letters, I know most of it is inconsequential now, but I feel bad having never sent these.’

The handwriting is shaky, Seonghwa has seen Hongjoongs writing, as recently as just a few years ago, though it was rarely tidy, it was generally steady, he can’t help but worry for what state he must have been in while writing that.

He worries even more for what’s been left unsaid. Hongjoong had kept in touch with Seonghwa even after becoming a pirate and a fugitive, he was well liked in the city and seemed to make as many friends as enemies wherever he went, so he’d always found somebody to deliver the messages back to him.

It’s unfortunate they had to resort to letters, but after they’d both grown up a little more and were told the implications of their social statuses. They rarely had time to meet anymore. Seonghwa always gave his friend as much gold as he could when they met though, as a helping hand but also so Hongjoong could buy the stationary for writing his letters, which Seonghwa had encouraged he send.

The first letter is easily recognisable, Hongjoong had always signed his letters as a child with badly drawn stars, insisting they reminded him of Seonghwa.

They go pretty standard as far as letters go, nothing too surprising in the content of them, but Hongjoong had always been a perfectionist, and most of the letters compiled here are similar to ones he’s already received, likely first drafts. It’s cute that he kept these, the first draft is always less thought out than the edited final one, but for Hongjoong, who wears his heart on his sleeve, Seonghwa supposes these are rather embarrassing, none of his emotions held back as he scrawls whatever came to mind that he’d wanted to tell his friend.

The letters begin to stray as he grows older though, Hongjoong must be in his late teens at the time of the first one.

‘Seonghwa!

Work today was so much more exciting than usual. I have a secret to keep! I obviously can’t send this to you because of that, but I’ve written to you so much that it’s easier to do that than write a diary entry.

You remember Wooyoung and Yeosang? They went on a date during our break today! But they told me I can’t tell anyone, Apparently boys aren't allowed to date eachother?

I think that’s unfair, They’re both so in love! I can’t imagine having to hide that from anyone! They’ve been together forever and can’t even say they love one another? It makes me sad, Imagine if you couldn't openly love anyone? What a depressing world that would be!

I don’t really have anything else to say, but I never knew boys could like boys! Can girls like girls too? Can you like both? I wonder if I’ll ever like a boy.

-Hongjoong’

Seonghwa chuckles at the letter, clearly it hadn’t been sent in case it had been lost and his friends were outed. Now he supposes Hongjoong sees no reason to hide the truth anymore.

The next letter is dated to a week after the event.

Apparently, there are no rules at sea, you can do and be whatever you want! That’s why there’s so many of them! San said he’d ask his friend about it next time he comes to town, so Wooyoung and Yeosang can love freely!

‘Seonghwa!

Today was awful, the boss caught Woo and Yeo holding hands and fired them! For holding hands! When we all met later for dinner together, San mentioned he knows a guy, a pirate!

That sounds so romantic and cheesy, leaving behind an uncaring world to sail the sea with you beloved. Sounds like the plot of a romance novel!

-Hongjoong’

I might go with them, apparently a life of piracy is the most free you can get, I’d like that. I think it’d be nice to not have to worry about everything I do here, about living, about working, about whether my friends will be okay.

I don’t know how I’d message you though, I doubt I can send letters from the sea!

Ah, so that’s what had spurred his life of piracy. He’d wanted freedom for himself and his friends. Seonghwa feels a little bad now, he’d berated Hongjoong for what he’d done when he first found out, calling him irresponsible for doing something like that.

Of course it was all in his head though, Hongjoong had already taken to the sea by the time he found out, and never stayed anywhere long enough for Seonghwa to send him a letter, he could only receive them.

The next letter is dated two days later.

He’s assured us we’ll be okay now though. Also! I learned that the pirate is the same guy we went to the garden with as kids! It almost seems like fate.

‘Seonghwa.

We had to leave in a hurry, I never knew that my friends love was illegal! They were going to be arrested and Sans pirate friend was at the docks so he let us board with him. We couldn’t prepare for this at all, I can only write this because I keep it my stationary in my bag at all times!

We’ll have to work here, a boat doesn’t take care of itself after all. Nor does a crew feed itself. But we’re assured we’ll be safe. He trusts we’d never do anything we aren’t supposed to so he and the older pirates said they’ll mentor us!

Gosh- I probably can’t send this, too much detail that others shouldn’t know. It happens a lot right? People try and intercept royal mail? I’ll need to rewrite this before I can send it to you. Make it less harmful for you if it gets out. Can’t have the public hating you for talking with a pirate now can we!

-Hongjoong’

That explains the rush then, why he was here one day and gone the next. Seonghwa wonders when Hongjoong had first been able to send his rewritten letter.

The letters continue for a while, mostly uneventful, they mostly consist of Hongjoong writing down his conflicting feelings regarding the position he’s found himself in. Seonghwa also learns the pirates name is Eden, he thinks that must be the man he saw today. Though why he is somehow still here when Hongjoong and his crew are, remains a mystery.

‘Seonghwa.

We were separated from Eden today, things went wrong and we ended up on opposite ends of the city we were in. We left as soon as we could. Eden said we should leave before him if anything like this is to happen. We have a rendezvous point. In case we’re separated. An island a long way North from here. Hopefully he’ll be okay.

I’ve been appointed leader now, it’s...weird. I never saw myself as being in a leadership position, he said I was most fit for it in his absence. I don’t see how, but I’ll have to live up to it now.

Is this how you feel, Seonghwa? Being in a position of power that you didn’t ask for? I can’t imagine royalty have much say in their succession to the throne.

You must have been crowned by now, It’s been years since I left. I wish I were able to say the real reason. I probably could by now, but I’ve kept it so long. I can’t even remember exactly what it was.

Our newest additions, Mingi and Jongho, have been a big help. They’re always a reliable shoulder to lean on in times like this. I might go visit them later, They’re good listeners. I don't know what lead them to this life, they’re both such kind people.

Though I suppose so were Wooyoung and Yeosang.

I don’t know if I’m ready for a leadership position, no matter how temporary. And if Eden doesn’t return...

I don’t want to think about that now. I’ll go above deck, maybe I can distract myself. Yunho is good at cards, maybe I’ll play with him for a bit.

I wonder if these diary-letters will ever see the light of day. If they do, I hope they’re only read by you Seonghwa.’

Hongjoong hadn't signed off the letter this time. Maybe he was so eager to distract himself that he forgot.

He relates to him, about the leadership thing. Seonghwa hadn’t at all wanted nor been prepared for taking on the throne. But he had to anyway after the passing of his parents, nobody else was eligible. The people will probably grow tired of him soon, he refuses to take a wife. And if he can't make an heir then he leaves nobody to ascend to the throne when he himself dies.

Good, it should be kept that way. Let him be the last one to be forced into this.

The next few letters are as expected, detailed accounts of what happened while they sailed to their destination. Mostly just Hongjoong getting used to leading everyone. Yeosang and Wooyoung were wed, apparently the captain is able to do that. It sounds like a lovely evening, even in Hongjoongs hungover description of it the following day. There’s a letter detailing their arrival to the island, and that strange things had been happening. It gets the most concerning about three days in though, as they tried to go inward to climb a small mountain there for the best vantage point.

‘Seonghwa.

We’re at the base of the mountain now. Everyone keeps joking that San should have no trouble climbing it. I can tell they’re on edge though.

We aren't alone here. I’m certain of it. We all feel as if someone is watching us.

Things are out of place that shouldn’t be, or go missing, or we’ll think someone is there and then they’re not. There isn’t much in the way of living beings around us, so we can’t possibly chalk it all up to that.

I can't wait to get off this damn island. I don’t know what’s here and frankly I don’t want to. Whatever it is, as long as it doesn't follow us back onto the ship then we’ll be fine.

Hopefully we aren’t just all going paranoid.

I can find moments of peace in moments like tonight though. I’m up in a tree, impractical for writing, I know. But the leaves block out the sky.

I like watching the sky, the stars remind me of you. I wonder if you watch it too?

I don’t know what life I wanted, But now I’m sure this isn't it. I was so stupid as a child, if only I’d known about my feelings sooner.

I think I may be in love. With you.

This is so disjointed, maybe I’m going crazy after all.

It’s so stupid, I can never return now, I can’t leave my friends and by now we’re wanted in most places near our home, likely there too.

That’s what you get when you try to teach a bunch of kids to steal, we only didn’t get caught because we were so fast. We wanted freedom, and we were willing to run until our legs gave out beneath us to get it.

All I know now is this is not the life I want. It’s the one I've chosen, but it wasn’t a very thought out choice.

If I could fix things, I’d return to you, maybe confess my feelings. You were always so accepting weren't you? I’m sure even if they aren’t reciprocated, you’d never hate me for it. But I can’t return, not now. If could, Can I trust you if I give you myself? Would you hide me away from the world? So I could finally be with you?

Will you forever remain out of reach of my arms?

I would continue writing, but something is happening in the distance, it may be nothing, but I should wake everyone and check just in case. ‘

Yet again, it isn’t signed off. Seonghwa is worried, not even processing this letter before he moves onto the next one. It’s barely legible in words and writing.

‘ Seonghwa!!!

Its us its us itsus???

More us? They look like us

they arent us, we are us.

firefirefire so much fire

and smoke and mirrors

the sea? will I find them through the sea??

they came through mirrors??

where were the mirrors?

they have the answers

I should go

I need answers

they said they have them

what answers?

do I have questions?

bloodbloodblood

they were bleeding

are they real?

are they hurt?

theyre us are we hurt?

are we real?

I need answers

I have to go

through the mirror through the water through the sea

I need to go

will I come back?

maybe I can if I go

im sorry I cant give you all happiness

I wish I could give you freedom

if I get answers

I need answers

I need you

I need Seonghwa

I miss Seonghwa

I love Seonghwa

I want him iwanthimiwant

take me back take me back rewind it all

take me back to him

how?’

break the clock

bring me back

i want out

When Seonghwa finally reads the last letter, the writing is neat, but it isn’t Hongjoongs.

Seonghwa can’t bring himself to read the last letter, not after this.

Hongjoong loves him?

What does he mean by more of them?

Why is he only saying all of this now?

I don’t know what happened, Everyone is missing. I’ve searched all over the island and found nothing.

‘Seonghwa.

I’m sure you’ll recognise my name from Hongjoongs letters. I’m Eden.

I’m going to return to you and give you his letters, you deserve to have them. It’s the least I can do for the both of you.

I don’t know why I’m not being affected like they were.

I don’t know you, But Hongjoong talked about you often, I always wondered when he’d come to terms with his feelings, it seems that it was too late.

I can't give you anything to bury, but I found a piece of his shirt beside his letter, I don't know why it's bloodied, but you should have it more than I should.

I'll leave it in an envelope with the letters.

I’ll tie the stack with his ribbon, though I suppose it’s really yours.

He never took it off in the entire time I met him.

I hope despite all of this, you can somehow carry on.

-Eden'

I won't stay long, I should return to the sea, I should warn people about the island.

I hope for your sake that our paths never have to cross again.

'Carry On'

Seonghwa doesn't know if he can. Doesn't know if he'll ever get over what he and Hongjoong could have been, ever get over the haunting words of his last letter, if he'll ever stop keeping that shredded piece of cloth in his pockets until it's nothing but threads.

Seonghwa doesn't know if he'll ever be able to carry on without Hongjoong.

He just wishes he knew where the island is. Wishes he could search for Hongjoong himself, he needs to see with his own eyes that he's not coming back.

Because he has to come back, there's so much they missed, so much they could have done, could have been.

He needs to know what happened, he needs to know what Hongjoong saw, what made him walk into the water to find answers, what took Hongjoong away from him. Seonghwa has been waiting all this time for Hongjoong to come back, for him to maybe change his appearance and return with a new name, to finally be able to see him again.

He needs his own answers now.

To talk with him, laugh with him, smile with him.

If he knew what he does now, to maybe even marry him.

Maybe he'll go down to the docks tomorrow, the sailors always love to chatter and gossip. if Eden is true to his word. Maybe Seonghwa can find that island,

Find Hongjoong.

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oskarwing · 5 years

Text

Worse than Chickenpox

Word count: 1966 Summary: Number One has a bellyache but he can’t go complain about it to Dad again. And anyway it not as bad as Chickenpox. Or is it?

Author’s note: This is my second TUA fic I post and it’s Luther-centric again. I swear I got ideas for the others too. Anyway. Hope you enjoy :)

Number one often had bellyaches for no reason. He had no idea why but he had gone to Dad with it and Dad had said it was nothing after he checked him and he said that in his disappointed voice he normally never used for One and that made him feel very bad. Instead he went to Mom who gave him a hot-water bottle and tea before bed to make it better and who - he was pretty sure - didn’t have a disappointed voice.

So when One woke up with really bad bellyache he thought it was one of those that didn’t matter so no reason to go to Dad with it. Maybe that evening Mom would make him some tea and a hot-water bottle but no reason to bother Dad with this again if it was all just in his head anyway.

“It’s time to wake up, honey!” Mom knocked on his door.

“I’m already up!” One called and crawled out of bed. Being up early was what Astronauts did. Or that was what Pogo told him at least. When he was big, One was going to go to space too like an astronaut. Dad had promised.

“That’s good, dear. Get ready now.”

Number one did quickly, listening to Mom wake the others.

He put on his uniform, brushed his teeth and then went to the stairs downstairs. The bellyache wouldn’t go away though which was weird. Normally One had to concentrate on something and he could blend the bellyaches out for a bit. He put a hand on his stomach. It was too early to ask Mom for help. They would have training after breakfast and you couldn’t run around with a hot-water bottle during training.

Number four was the first of his siblings to join him at the stairs.

He hadn’t tied his tie yet and he looked as if he hadn’t combed his hair either but Four’s hair was harder to comb, One knew that. He had heard the nannies complain about it often when they still had nannies, now they had Mom who would probably fix Four’s hair after breakfast or training. Number one could take care of the tie now though.

“Here,” he set and reached out tying it quickly losing the rime they had learned for it.

Number four grinned. “Thank yooouuu!” he said and hugged him quickly. Four loved giving hugs.

“You really need to learn how to do this, Four. Two and me we can’t always go around tying it for you, you know?”

“Yes, yes,” his brother agreed nodding his head and looking around at other things.

One knew that he was looking at ghosts of course, he knew that those ghosts were really scary and that he was crying a lot because of them.

Number one wanted to put an arm around Number four and tell him that he would protect him from the ghosts today, because that was what he was supposed to do protect all of his siblings from the bad stuff that came with being like them, but a gigantic bellyache stopped him and he curled up around it a hand pressed on his middle.

“Are you okay, One?” Four asked and stared at him.

“Yes. Just a bellyache.”

“Is it worse than chicken pox or not as bad as chickenpox?” Four asked innocently, they had had chickenpox last year and since then every sickness was put in this system of not as bad or worse than chicken pox. It was a very good system.

“What’s with chickenpox?” Five spacial jumped to them like he always did a frown on his face, he had been one of the first who went down with chickenpox and it had been really bad for him because he had been so sick he was too weak to jump and also because he had been especially itchy.

“I got a bellyache but it’s not as bad as chickenpox,” One explained simply.

“Oh. Good,” Five said and made a face.

“You can’t get chickenpox again, Five, remember? ‘cause we got it once we can’t get it again,” Four said and smiled at their brother.

Once the others had joined them at the stairs they waited for Mom to ring the bell that let them know they were allowed to come downstairs.

They had only started to eat breakfast at the big table with Dad since their last birthday and it made One very proud even though now they couldn’t talk with each other anymore. But that was just how grown-ups ate, without talking and getting educated.

They went downstairs in pairs holding hands. One and Two. Three and Four.

Five and Six. And little Number seven at the end with no one holding her hand.

“Stuh-st-stop p-pulling me, O-one!” Two complained. “I’m not pulling you’re just not fast enough to keep up!”

“Nuh-Not tr-t-true!”

They stopped bickering immediately when they saw Dad just as Number three and four stopped talking about what they would play on Saturday behind them. Their eyes cast down they went to their seats, having to climb them a little as they were too big for them.

‘Not for long anymore,’ One thought. Pogo said he was having a real growth spurt and he should be able to get on the chair easily soon. It would probably still be a few years until he could reach the ground with his feet though.

Their father nodded at them as a sign that they could now start to eat. They all ate quickly, especially Number Two who heard that if he always finished his plates he would grow faster and he really wanted to grow faster than number one.

On any normal day Number One would have eaten just as fast as his brother but today he was the slowest of them. His belly really hurt today and he wished that it would stop. It had never hurt that badly.

‘Is it as bad as chicken pox though?’ One asked himself remembering Four asking about that earlier. No, it probably wasn’t as bad as the chickenpox had been. Chickenpox were itchy and annoying and you got a high fever and number One didn’t have a fever if he had Mom or Pogo or Dad would notice.

Training was horrible that day and One normally really, really liked training. But today it was horrible his belly was aching so badly that he couldn’t pull any punches and Number Two had lots of reason to laugh at him.

By the end of it he was sweaty and miserable and belly was hurting even more now.

Number Two made fun of him and his bad performance even after the training was over and Dad looked so disappointed, he had shouted at him a lot.

One felt awful.

But he still changed out of his workout clothes and got ready for school time.

Normally One liked training a lot more than school time but today he really liked school time better because he was sitting down and his belly wasn’t hurting so badly anymore.

Plus he was good enough at school time too. Not as good as Number Five or Number Seven who were pretty much perfect at it but he was right in the middle a little behind Number two in reading and a little in front of him in maths.

Since he was a little behind on reading Dad made him do that before he could do any maths or science, which One found a little unfair but Pogo would sometimes give him some texts about space and astronauts so that he would at least be interested in what he had to read.

Today Pogo hadn’t found any texts about space for him and he had to read a text about stupid bodybuilding and how to stay up on proteins.

It was such a boring text that he had an even harder time reading it than he normally would and with the belly ache it was even harder and really could this day get any worse?

“Pogo, can I go to the toilette, please?” he asked and looked at the chimpanzee.

“Well, how far are you with your assignment, young master One?”

“Uhm… on page two now…” One said. “Please, Pogo? I really need to!” he pleaded.

“Alright, alright. But be quick.”

“Okay, thanks Pogo!”

“It’s alright don’t tell your father though,” Pogo said and ruffled his hair and One giggled a little despite feeling so bad. Pogo made him laugh often and he also hugged him, Dad never did that.

He had no idea what he was doing on the toilette, he just wanted to get away from sitting at his desk and staring at the letters as they started to run into each other while his belly hurt so badly and sometimes walking helped against the bellyaches. This time it hadn’t of course and now he was sitting on the toilette his belly hurting worse than ever before.

There was a knock at the door.

“H-hey, One,” two’s voice came from outside the door. “I guh-gotta go too, h-hurry up!”

One sighed and got up slowly, making a grimasse, his belly still hurt really badly but he walked up to the bathroom door and opened it standing in front of Number Two.

“Fuh-finally, I th-thought you w.. One?” The annoyance is gone from his voice. “A-a-are you o-okay?” Two asked him.

One opened his mouth to say something but suddenly he was feeling very dizzy.

“M-Mom! Come q-qu-quick! There’s s-so-something w-wrong with One!”

Then the world turned black.

When One woke up again he was in the infirmary.

“Oh, honey, you’re up,” Mom smiled down at him. “No, no sitting up yet,” she said putting a hand on his shoulder to keep him from getting up. “You need to rest still, you’ve been very sick,” she told him.

“My belly was hurting again,” One told Mom and rubbed his eyes.

“Yes, sweetheart,” Mom said putting a hand on his cheek and frowning. “You’ve had appendicitis. How are you feeling now?” she asked and looked at him softly.

“Tired,” One admitted and looked up at her and she smiled at him.

“Do you want me to let your siblings in?” she asked him. “They were all very worried about you.”

“Really? Yes please!” One said nodding his head.

Mom smiled nodding her head and opened the door where his siblings are all already standing and waiting.

“Your brother is awake,” Mom says and the others storm in.

“One!” Four is fastest and next to the bed first. “Two said you just fell down like after going to the toilette! Don’t do that!” he said and shook his head moving forward to hug him.

Two nodded his head. “You d-did. Your e-ey-eyes wah-went up, got a-all w-white and you just c-collapsed onto the gr-ground!” he told him shaking his head.

Seven was frowning at them. “Why didn’t you tell anybody, One?” she asked, softly.

“I don’t… I just thought it was a normal belly ache like I sometimes got…”

Five was frowning too. “You really should have told us about it.”

“Whatever,” Four said waving his hand. “This was way worse than chicken pox!” he said and Six nodded his head.

“Way worse,” Three told them. “Pogo said that we all gotta tell when we’re hurting because if ap-pen-dic-tis gets too bad you can… die!” she explained sounding out the word ‘appendicitis’ but One had to admit that it was a long and hard word.

“No! You’re not allowed to die! None of you! Ever!” Four said shaking his head so fast that his curls were flying around. “I don’t want to see you as ghosts!”

Six put his hand on Four’s back. “Don’t worry, we’re not going to die Four.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” Six said and One nodded his head in agreement.

Silly number Four. None of them would die.

#The Umbrella Academy #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #five hargreeves #ben hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #kid fic #sick fic

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nikkxb · 6 years

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Worlds Apart

Howl’s Moving Castle Pairing: Howl/Sophie Rating: Teen Summary: Being famous makes paparazzi an inescapable evil. Sophie, however, isn't famous and doesn't know how to handle it. Famous AU for AU Yeah August Author’s Note: Major thanks to @fimbulvctr for beta services and generally forcing me to get my shit together.

“Miss Hatter! Miss Hatter!”

Sophie ran up the steps, her key card already in hand as she pressed it against the sensor. Hurry, hurry, hurry—

Cameras flashed, people yelled, attention was being drawn, and now they knew where she lived. They knew her name, they knew her address, they probably knew the route she took from work, and she wouldn’t be surprised if they hadn’t already figured out where she worked. The door finally clicked open and she rushed in, closing herself off from the pandemonium on the street.

She could still hear them through the door over the rush of blood in her ears. Forcing in deep, slow breaths, Sophie tried to ground herself. Tried to calm her racing heart and drain the tension riddling her limbs. One foot in front of the other, she carefully made her way to the stairwell and climbed.

Four flights up and her heart was still racing.

She locked herself into her apartment, purse and keys onto the small table by the door, then crossed and immediately shut the blinds. They shouldn’t have a good angle to see into the apartment, but she didn’t want to take the chance. She’d already risked too many chances and made too many mistakes. How could she have ever believed herself capable of this?

Her coat was hung in the front closet and she retrieved her phone from the pocket. A flash of the screen showed three missed calls and two voicemails from her sisters and a single text from Howl.

Howl.

It was all his fault.

That wasn’t fair. She hadn’t walked into this unaware. It was next to impossible to have not heard Howl’s name over the last five years. His movies had been huge, from the summer blockbuster to the highly esteemed, award winning film, and his photogenic face was plastered all over the city. Howl hit it big and ran with it and Sophie had been aware of his fame long before she stumbled into him behind the bakery her sister worked at.

Still, her emotions were unstable and not even the poetry of his text could settle her nerves. Shutting off her phone before she did something she’d regret, she tossed the thing onto the coffee table and made her way into the bathroom.

A shower would help. The spray of water would drown out the echoes of reporters that knew her name, the weight of curious stares as she ran the day’s errands, and the sinking feeling in her heart that convinced her this wouldn’t work out.

Howl thrived in his world. The fame, the fortune, the glamour, all of it. His larger-than-life personality fit well on the screen and charmed even the most jaded interviewer.

She didn’t.

And she wouldn’t.

So if she suffocated in his world and he withered in hers, how much longer could they drag this on before it ended?

An incessant banging came from the door when she got out of the shower. Steam followed out the open door and with her robe pulled tight around her, she tentatively approached. A peek through the peephole gave her no information. The person banging on the door was too close to really get a good look at them.

Latching the chain, she unlocked the doorknob and cracked the door open.

“Sophie.”

Just the sound of his voice sent a pang through her heart.

“Howl.”

“Sophie, let me in.”

“Howl—”

“We need to talk,” he interrupted, panic written all over his face. “I’m not leaving until we talk and I will resort to saying everything I need to say in the hallway where your neighbors can hear.”

He just would, too.

“Howl—”

“Please,” he added in a whisper, his forehead falling against the wood. “Please. Don’t close the door on me.”

Her hand stilled, her heart tugging at the genuine pain in his words.

“I didn’t know. Michael saw it and told me. He found the source of the leaks. I never— Sophie, I never wanted this for you. Please,” he begged as blood-shot blue eyes met hers through the small opening, “please let me in.”

There was nothing left for her to do but nod.

The cup rattled against the counter, her vision filled with the desperation lining Howl’s shoulders. She’d never seen him so anxious, so out of control, but she didn’t say anything. As soon as she had opened the door, he burst in, closing the door and locking them in before enveloping her in his arms.

“Howl—”

“Just—” He pulled in a sharp breath, his heart thudding against her cheek and his cheek pressing into her hair. “I’m so sorry.”

“Howl, it’s not your fault.”

“But it is,” he argued. “It is. I should have known. I should have been more careful. I—”

“You shouldn’t have to change your life to accommodate me.”

He went still, his arms tightening briefly before he pulled back. Just enough to look at her, study her expression and cup her cheek, allow a fleeting glimpse of emotion flash across his face, then he released her. That emotion was more than she was prepared for and Sophie did what she had always done: ran and hid behind the veneer of being polite.

Making a pot of tea was a polite thing to do for a guest and even with Howl’s huff, he let her. He took her empty words to heart and stepped out of his shoes, leaving them by the front door, then made himself comfortable on her small, ratty couch.

Just looking at him pierced her heart. There he was in beautiful clothes that seemed casual but fit too well and were just too clean to match the worn furniture she owned. And they really did fit him in all ways. Howl had always been larger than life and it seemed unfair to quell all that he was into her compact life.

Sophie brought the two cups with her and sat on the other end of the couch, drawing out a frown from him. He took his cup, stared down into the dark liquid, then set it on the table without a taste.

“You’ve made up your mind,” he said, defeated.

She said nothing, simply looked down at the reflection in her cup.

“Sophie, please. I’ll— We—” His hand swiped through his hair, sending the strands into disarray. “Please.”

“Howl.”

He sucked in a hiss, his eyes closing in pain.

“We live in different worlds. I don’t fit in yours and you don’t fit in mine—”

“So we’ll make our own world.”

She stopped, all at once wondering why she didn’t think of that while believing it wouldn’t — couldn’t — work.

“Sophie.” His desperate plea pulled her from her thoughts, the fear shining in his beautiful eyes tearing new wounds beneath her sternum. Still, she waited in silence as he stilled his shoulders, pulled in a breath, then met her gaze head on.

“I want to change my world.”

Her lips parted and he held up a palm.

“Please let me say this.” Howl waited for her nod. “I want you. I want you in my life and by my side and with me. I want what we’ve had, I want where we’re going, I want to hear your voice in the morning and smell your hair at night. And above all of that, I want you happy and I want you happy with me.

“That?” He waved a hand toward her window, gesturing at the crowd that had been there an hour ago. “The posters and billboards and cameras and high profile life? Not worth living if you’re not in it.”

“Howl—“

“Give this a chance,” he continued. “Give me a chance. Give me the opportunity to learn how to shut them out and how to balance my work and your privacy and how to make you comfortable. Let me build you a place in my life that will make you happy. That you can live in. That you will stay in.”

Her throat burned and her breathing turned heavy and Howl’s voice dropped to a beautiful, soft lilt that exposed the emotions he rarely showed.

“I can’t lose you.” His hand found hers and she let him lace their fingers together. “Not to this, not when there’s a chance, not when I know we can make it work.”

“What if we can’t?” she asked, the unspoken fear finally bubbling to the surface.

“We will.” He lifted their hands and kissed her knuckle. “If you have the strength to get up on the morning, then I’ll have the strength to keep you safe. My security team is already working on this and my agent has attacked the press. It should buy us enough time to get you better protected and them off your trail.”

“Howl, we can’t live our entire lives inside.”

“No, we can’t, but we can live our lives free of that abuse. Celebrity couples do it every day, there’s no reason to think we can’t be one of them.”

His thumb soothed over her skin, circling and circling as if he couldn’t stop touching her. The memory of him doing the same the past weekend over her neck, her spine, her hip, sent her heart fluttering in her chest.

“How did you know?”

Pain welled up in his eyes, but Howl — the ever in-control, poised Howl — somehow kept it from falling. “I didn’t. I jumped to the worst possible conclusion and couldn’t let it happen without a fight.”

“So if I had opened the door for you with arms wide open—”

“—I would have fallen into your arms with relief.”

He had done that anyway.

“And,” she added in a small voice, revealing the truth she was ashamed to admit, “if I had refused to answer the door?”

“Sophie,” and she couldn’t help but look at him when he said her name in that beautifully soft voice, “I would have slept on your doorstep.”

He would have. She knew with certainty he would have. He would have done anything to salvage what she considered throwing away.

“That’s a bit extreme, isn’t it?” Sophie grasped for humor, hoping to alleviate the weight on her chest. “The papers would explode about the stalker Howl.”

His lips twitched, but the pain didn’t leave his eyes and the weight twisted.

“Howl…will you stay tonight?”

He moved, finally closed the distance between them and pulled her into his chest. “Forever,” he said into the curve of her neck. “I will stay forever if you let me.”

I like the idea of them having a slow romance. They meet in the alley and Howl is smitten immediately. He bumps into her again and again and finally gets her number. They have quiet dates over the course of a couple weeks, then he progresses them into dating exclusively.

This happens after their first weekend together. Up until this point, they were quiet and careful, but Sophie staying with Howl all weekend was too good of gossip to keep quiet. The doorman of Howl’s apartment building sold the story and it made him a good amount of money. When they find the leak, his subsequent firing and blacklisting through the industry made him have to move.

It’s a hard journey for them because Howl is set and Sophie is skittish, but they make it work and this is the foundation they build on.

I'm not happy with either characterization. It's been a while since I read the book and reading back over this, it's obvious. Both characters are more movie-based than I wanted, so I'm left completely disenchanted with what I wrote. Still, for some reason, I've decided not to delete it. Hope you can enjoy it for what it is.

#howls moving castle #howlsophie #howl pendragon #sophie hatter #fanfiction #auyeahaugust #au yeah august #famous au #my stuff #worlds apart

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nayleaharvez97 · 4 years

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Stop Separation Divorce Staggering Cool Tips

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7 Ways To Save My Marriage

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Save Marriage Couple Walkthroughs

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#Stop Separation Divorce Staggering Cool Tips #Can You Stop The Divorce Process

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godinsesen · 4 years

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Can I Stop A Divorce Marvelous Diy Ideas

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sunset-wishes-upon-hill · 7 years

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Tape 14

Chapter I: Tape 14

Summary: Hannah Baker has survived her suicide attempt. Unbeknown to others, she has left a 14th tape, hidden, in the case of her unfortunate survival, of her warnings to the people who caused her so much pain and misery. She makes a Faustian bargain with a mysterious woman who promises to help her deliver what they deserve and the happiness she desperately craves AU Revenge. Eventual Clay x Hannah

A/N: I’ve been obsessed with 13 reason why and I just couldn’t help but imagine what-if scenarios should Hannah survived her suicide attempt! I’m not sure whether I should make this a full story or if this will remain a one-shot (I know it’s really bad for me to start a new story when I have so many other stories I could be finishing/updating but I just had to get this out of my head!

Hannah Baker never knew life could be so bitter, miserable and dark. It was nothing to what her mum used to tell her. Perhaps she has been too naïve and too foolish, maybe she wasn’t ‘adult’ enough, maybe it was her that was doing it wrong and others perfectly right. She tried to be the happy, vivacious, bubbly and outspoken girl. Her mum called her a happy soul, her happiness so contagious that it spread around like wildfire and a smile so big it awestruck anyone who saw it. But one day, somebody told her she wasn’t good enough and she had committed the huge mistake of believing that person and all others who said the same and she still had no idea why she deserved such hate.

Her eyes fluttered open to a bright, harsh light and for a moment, she wondered if she was granted an entrance to heaven, for being good and kind and taking her own life was insignificant compared to how she lived her life.

“Oh, you’re awake.”

Hannah rolled her head to her left side toward the voice. It took her a moment for her eyes to get used to the lighting and the blurry figure soon settled into beautiful, blonde and blue eyed woman elegantly sat in a plush armchair.

“Welcome back to life, Hannah Baker.” She smiled, “Unfortunately, you’re diligent little effort weren’t enough. Life’s cruel till the end, huh.”

“W..Who are you?” Her voice came out in a hoarse whisper.

“I’m your friend and an ally.” She revealed, and then the mysterious woman nodded toward her arms, “The doctor said you should try not to move your arm more than necessary.”

Hannah slowly leaned down to study her bandaged arms and let out a hiss as sharp, burning pain shot through her when she tried to move.

“You managed to damage your tendons and nerves. So wave goodbye to any chance of a decent hand-movement life. Or don’t –– waving goes too.” Then she held up a mini cassette player, “I enjoyed your tapes, by the way, you have your way with words. My favourite was the 14th one.”

“Where’s my parents?” She managed to ask, the white room and furniture blending into a colourful vertigo.

The woman stood up and elegantly strode toward her bed, sitting on the mattress near her arm.

“They think you’re dead.”

Hannah frowned, her face furrowing with confusion, “W-wait? What?”

“I think it’s good to talk things through once the drugs wear off.”

“N-no..what..w-wait..please…” Hannah raised her arm in desperate attempt to grab hold of departing woman.

The beautiful, mysterious woman seemed conflicted for a moment, as if she was debating whether to talk to the drugged out of her mind Hannah versus waiting for her to come out of the state. She seemed desperate and hurried.

“Well, simply put, I’m your answer to tape 14.” She said, “This time, let me tell you a story. There was a girl, just like you, and one day, someone told her she wasn’t good enough and she believed that. Her inner voice screamed that ‘you are amazing; you’re good enough; you’re the best’, but she drowned it, stomped it down, buried it, and she let other people reign over her heart and soul. She was strong. But even the strongest people have their breaking point. The girl tried so hard to please everyone –– she was the poster child for yes girl, and soon enough, she forgot how to value herself, her time and even how to say no. The girl, lost and lonely, went from person to person, looking for acceptance, for friendship, for love. In the end, she was angry, angry with herself; angry she can’t please everyone and be in their good book, angry that she always seemed to mess up everything she did, angry at the world, angry at not meeting up with the expectation of the world. And thus cue her life of self-destruct, misery and shame and guilt.”

Hannah’s eyes start to water, and she felt like she was bleeding again.

“And that’s not all we have in common.” She revealed, “…Our souls were destroyed by the same person.”

Hannah’s eyes widened, her head whipped upward so harsh she was sure she had a crick in her neck.

“You didn’t think it was only you or Jessica, did you? I.. have the honour of being his very first victim. Anyway, I think it’s enough for today. We can talk more when the drug’s out of your system.”

Hannah learnt the beautiful; mystery woman was Emily Caesar and she wasn’t so much older than she was. Just by a mere year in fact. And she learned she was Emily was 15 when Bryce forced himself on her in his swimming pool.

“I can help you.” Emily said, “But only if you allow me to. Unless that tape 14 was just a spur of the moment recording, I won’t stop you if you decide to go back to your old life again. You should consider my offer carefully.”

“W-Why do my parents think I’m dead?”

She smiled as if she expected such questions, “I’m rich and money goes a long way. Forging the death of a little nobody from some town isn’t so hard –– particularly, if she tried to kill herself. Makes it easier than, for example, if they became ill from something and you tell the parents you died, we’d have to do a bit of more of convincing. But you were dead, for few minutes; it was enough time for your parents to see you get carried out in a body bag.”

Hannah’s eyes clenched shut, forcing away the imagery of her mum and dad crying and shouting for their dead baby.

“Why me? Why not someone else?”

“For one, we’re quite similar being the tragic hero in our little fairy-tale. Two, we share the same scars and enemy of course. Three, I absolutely loved your tapes. I think it’s quite a fun way of haunting people from the grave. I thought you were going to be that ‘you made these mistakes, now look what you’ve done and hope this forever haunts you while you live’ kind of person, until I listened to your 14th tape. I want to know how serious you are.”

Hannah stared at her bandaged wrists; the doctor had warned her that she might never be able to regain full function of her wrists ever again.

“Do you want to know what happened to those thirteen people?” Emily asked, “I can show you their files I got from the private investigator. But one thing they all share in common: they are living a very happy life. Justin and Jessica, they’re applying to go to the same college; Zach, numerous offers of scholarships from prestigious colleges, coaches fighting to take him on to their team and a beautiful girlfriend; Marcus, a great honorary student and beloved student body president as always..should I go on or do you want to read the files in detail?”

Hannah’s fingers twitched. She was meant to curl them into a fist but even a smallest movement resulted in pain and numbness.

“And look at you. You’ve lost everything and now you lost your hands too.” Emily shook her head, “When a girl decide to kill herself, people act as if one night she just decide to slit her wrists in her bathtub. Then they decide to notice you; teachers acting as if they knew you, students acting as if they’ve been your best friends for ages, make a little memorial with shitty flowers you don’t even like, few couple of selfies hash-tag RIP, hash tag will be missed and loved, hash tag heaven gained another angel and few features in the newspaper talking about how loving daughter you were, how much of a dedicated student you were, how you had so much to look forward to.” Emily scoffed, “It’s pathetic; suddenly you’ve become some kind of poster child for anti-suicide prevention. It’ll be like that for few weeks or so, and then the society will deem the case closed and move on,” She snapped her fingers, “Just like that. And you know what’s so unfair, to the ones involved, to people like us, we will continue to live on forever in that incident while people who caused all this, forgets about it and move on with their lives. That’s the difference between us and them.”

Hannah couldn’t hold back her tears and now it was freely flowing down her cheeks.

Emily’s voice softened, “Why do they have to go this far? Maybe they have a shitty life. Maybe they’re just as fucked up as we are. Maybe the only way to they could bear to live is by making other people just as miserable as they are. They don’t really have a reason. It just so happens that you were caught in their web. Whether you put it up with it or put up a fight, it makes no difference. In the end, you get killed. If you don’t like that…risk your life…and retaliate. I’m giving you that chance.”

Then she slid the sharp razor toward Hannah.

“Make your choice, Hannah.”

Hannah spent most of her days in the small clear room, entirely glass with a desk facing her. Everything was a blur – the nurses and the doctor’s faces, the constant prick of needles in her arms, the time and she had trouble listening to people talking to her. Emily visited her every day, but she made no further mentions of nor did she seem willing to continue their previous conversations.

One day, she was allowed out of the tiny room and she soon realised she wasn’t in the hospital but in a little cottage that belonged to Emily. Hannah explored the beautiful garden with Emily tagging behind her. The scenery that would have normally tugged her heartstring seemed to have become dulled down in its response. Boring almost.

“Do you like flowers?” Emily asked as she observed Hannah slowly reaching up to touch the petals.

“…Not anymore.” She pulled away.

“How could you? When the world is so shitty.” Emily ripped a yellow flower from the ground and threw it on the dug soil, “How can flowers be lovely in your eyes when everything is scary and detestable. The flowers, people, and the world.”

Hannah glanced at Emily before something caught her eyes; a spider and a wasp that was trapped in its web. Emily’s words began to ring in her head. The wasp desperately flailed in the web and the invisible strings wrapped itself around its victim tighter than before as the spider crept toward its meal. There didn’t seem to be much hope for the wasp. It will soon be devoured and killed by the spider, just how the nature intended. The wasp fought against the spider with its sting. It seemed like a futile, losing battle.

Then something miraculous happened much to Hannah’s surprise, the web snapped and the wasp and the spider fell onto the ground. Hannah stared at the two insects wiggling beneath her.

Whether you put it up with it or put up a fight, it makes no difference. In the end, you get killed. If you don’t like that…risk your life…and retaliate.

Retaliate. Just like the wasp. Desperate to live. Want to live. The wasp was such an insignificant insect, a vermin and an imitation striving to be the real Bee. But still, it wanted to live. Not matter how pathetic its existence seemed to be and how useless it was, the wasp still fought to live. Want to live…Hannah wanted to live. She might be worthless and useless and good-for-nothing but she still deserved to live. She deserved her share of happiness. She deserved her place in this world.

Hannah brought her foot down and stomped hard on the spider.

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