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deadsetromance · 1 year ago

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IN THE WEE SMALL HOURS OF THE MORNING

(not my gif!)

gerard way x gn!reader

summary: he's your roommate...but maybe he's more than that.

warnings: unedited writing, fluff, no use of [y/n]

note: so sorry i haven't posted in forever! i have a few requests and a few more half-complete drafts, so hopefully those should be up soon <3

you supposed there were worse roommates out there. actually, thinking about it, you realized how lucky you were.

you got along really well with your roommate, gerard. he’d been sharing an apartment for nearly two years now, and you were sure you knew him better than you knew yourself.

you know he forgets to take the coffee pods out of the keurig, and sometimes he leaves the heater running for too long.

you don’t think you’ve ever seen him sleep. sometimes you wonder if he’s a vampire or something, what with the scribbling coming from his room at all hours of the night.

to be fair… you’re hardly any better. you sleep little more than he does, when you do fall asleep it’s usually on the couch, and you leave the television on all the time.

you’re incredibly lucky, you realize. lucky that he’s as sweet as he is, bringing you coffee in the mornings, and stopping by your job on his commute. he’s even slipped a few drawings your way. some are drawings of you, others are silly little doodles he gives you when you’re having a bad day. sometimes, he’ll show you characters for the comics he’s working on, asking for your input.

you realize that you’re lucky that he’s so helpful, that he’s not a creep, that you both get along so well. you’re lucky that you’ve found a friend who will sit and watch television reruns with you when neither of you can fall asleep.

that’s why you slip a record under his door one night. you don’t know if he even likes sinatra, but you give it to him anyway. there’s no special occasion really, you just thought of him when you found in the wee small hours in the record store you visited. you don’t sign your name on the post it you stuck to it. all you write is “from one insomniac to another”. you feel embarrassed for some reason you can’t place, and something slithers in your stomach. maybe you shouldn’t have given it to him…maybe he doesn’t like sinatra. it’s too late now though, it’s already done.

☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎

it’s late one night…or early, depending on how you look at it. you’re tired, whatever movie you were watching forgotten and on mute. you can hear gerard milling around in the kitchen, you can smell the coffee he’s brewing. you’re tired, but you can’t fall asleep.

“thanks for the record” gerard called from the kitchen. “i really liked it”

you smile, one of those hazy tired smiles, the kind you do when you’re between being awake and asleep. “i didn’t know if you liked sinatra, i hope it’s ok”

you miss the way he grins at you, too busy yawning.

“it’s great i actually…” he walked off in the middle of his sentence, a habit you’d noticed he had, only to come back with the disk in his hands. “do you mind?”

it didn’t matter if you said no, he already turned to put it on, smiling back at you as he dropped the needle to the record.

“what are we watching?” he asked, sitting next to you on the couch. close enough to be touching you, but still far enough to give you space. it’s like a paradox, you think, but then you tell yourself to shut up. you’re too tired to know what you’re talking about.

“i dunno, i stopped paying attention.” your eyes flit to the movie playing on the television, watching the car chase for a moment before turning your attention back to him. “you’re going to keep yourself up all night drinking coffee this late.” you might have frowned at him if you weren’t too busy beaming.

he knew you were teasing, you could tell by the glint in his eye. “i just need a few finishing touches on my project and then i’m done.”

you didn’t say anything more for a while, taking a moment to take everything in. the record playing softly in the background as you curled closer to gerard. his head resting on yours as you listened to his breathing, memorizing the pace of his heart.

it’s quiet…intimate, and you’re tired. tired and happy.

“you tired?” he questions softly.

“a little,” you don’t know why you’re whispering.

“do you work tomorrow?”

“yeah, i open,” you groan, rubbing your eyes. you think you feel him press a kiss to the top of your head, but you don’t want to get your hopes up.

it’s quiet again, though this time it’s too quiet. you’re left with thoughts of gerard running through your head, and you wish that one of you would say something. you should be ashamed, you scold yourself, thinking of him the way you do when he’s sitting right next to you.

“what are you thinking about?” he prods gently. he’s soft with you, the way he always is, careful not to overstep with his questions.

“nothing really,” you lie, because you’d rather not risk what comfort you have now. “what are you thinking about?”

it seems like he didn’t expect the question to be turned back on him. he hesitates, and the silence is thick…too thick. his face is illuminated by the light from the tv, and he looks nervous. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look quite as terrified as he does now. the lighting shifts, and he’s blanketed in darkness again, but you notice something change in his eyes.

“i think i love you” he whispers against your ear.

you feel like you can’t breathe. you think you heard him wrong. you’re worried this is all a dream, a good dream, the kind that would leave you reeling when you wake up.

you want to hear him say it again.

you lean your head back against his shoulder, and he breathes out with a shudder. you watch the explosions on tv as your hand finds his. “i love you too.”

that’s it then, everything is out in the open. maybe you’re tired, but you sigh gently as he cups your face in his hands. thinking back, you can’t exactly pinpoint when your feelings for him changed, but you suppose it doesn’t matter now. he loves you and you love him. it’s surprisingly simple.

“can i…?” he doesn’t need to finish his question as you lean in closer to him. his breath is warm, and he smells like coffee and sleepless nights, and you’re waiting for him. your eyes are closed as you breathe him in, and they stay that way as he kisses you softly.

he’s…soft, softer than you imagine, and you can’t help but smile.

in the wee small hours of the morning, he is yours, and you are his.

#gerard way x reader #gerard way #reader insert #x reader #my chemical romance #my chem #mcr #mcr fanfiction #mcr fanfic #fanfic #sfw #prtygoth

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harfanfare · 4 years ago

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How to win a heart of Floyd Leech?

a/n: Someone requested this; ask got deleted by accident! Hope you will like it, Anon!

Warning!

Once you start walking through the specific points of the guide, your life will be exposed to the presence of Floyd Leech. Interrupting the action at one of the stages may cause many problems; F. Leech categorizes stopping as "boring", which puts the user of this guide in great danger.

The only way out is to get to the very end. Or not to start at all.

You act at your own risk.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

‏‏‎

1. Be an easy new target.

To one’s surprise, it is much harder not to catch his attention.

You can easily become another entertaining target of Floyd, mostly by doing silly things or him just considering them as ones.

And to automatically get labelled as “silly”, you just need to fall into one of his traps—he prepares them for someone else, maybe for goldfish, maybe for another person given a sea-inspired nickname, expecting to enjoy watching how familiar face twitches with terror as he jumps into the scene and tightly embraces passing student.

But no. You were the one who showed up in the wrong place and time as Floyd jumped out from his hideout, scaring you half to death. With a strangled yelp, you sharply backed away. After gaining a slight flush on your cheeks, you recognised who you just bumped into and quietly gasped.

However, he was much more bewildered than you were.

He had never encountered somebody who wouldn’t just freeze under his touch. Jumping away, gasping, muttering half-hearted apologies and flushing? That’s new.

That’s also entertaining.

Even after your quickly disappearance from the scene, his gaze somehow inexplicably started returning to you.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

2. Visit Mostro Lounge often.

“We’re looking for someone who would like to work part-time for Azul~” Floyd said, sliding poster across the table. He popped up in front of you unannounced, having your thoughts return to dark reality.

“Oh,” you replied quietly, packing your things faster. “Good luck with it.”

You got up from your seat, but the thought of letting you go just like that didn’t even cross Floyd’s mind.

“Ehh? Shrimpy, aren’t you going to try?” he asked, frowning. You winced a little at the nickname he called you, not sure how to feel about it. “You know, you won’t work there for free.”

Azul will grant your wish.

You fidgeted a little, questioning your response. You heard—who didn’t?—rumours that Octavinelle leader could fulfil any request for a certain price. Ones were working for it, others were paying, and lasts were trading their request with Azul’s one.

The thought of having anything just by working in some café made you consider the offer again—this time quickier.

“I will go,” you decided.

“Hooray!” Floyd smiled cheerfully, just as if he won some grand prize in the lottery. “But what could Shrimpy possibly wish for, to change your response so drastically~?” he wondered but didn’t get any answer in return.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

3. Be honest.

“Shrimpy...”

You passed Floyd, without sparing him a look. Anyone who has known you for a while would notice that your movements were a bit stiff and creaky.

Once you heard Floyd’s voice, a wave of tiredness struck you as if you didn’t get any sleep last night after working your shift in Mostro Lounge.

There were so many people to serve, so many things to do... and yet, you couldn’t help with anything, still not knowing how everything works, messing up with orders and breaking some plates in process.

Floyd buzzing around you, asking you some random questions (“Shrimpy, have you done it before?”). You answered them quickly, but each of them bumped you out of rhythm, making you forget what you were doing. It also didn’t help that Floyd certainly liked you being disoriented, replying with a shrug and grin on his face at your thundering glances.

So now, after gaining a little trauma from working in Octavinelle’s café, all you could do is ignore Floyd’s presence, silently accusing him of your infamous fiasco.

“Hey, Shrimpy!” he called you again, catching you up. “Are you mad?”

“I am not mad,” you snapped and took an unstable breath. “Look, I just started working, and on my first day I made already so many mistakes—”

“Yeah,” he replied indifferently. “And what with that?”

“...I couldn’t even correctly serve drinks—”

“Oh, stop!” Floyd muffled your mouth with his hand, an annoying look on his face. “I know where it is going. And no, you can’t quit a job, after all my efforts to get you there. It will get boring again!”

“But—”

“Stop, stop, stop,” he corrected his hand on your mouth, now not letting even a sound get through his fingers. “Azul knows that you tried your best. And for these plates you broke, he already added them to your paycheck. You need to practice! Not to give up, Shrimpy!”

You looked up at him, quite stunned by these words. Perhaps he quoted someone from the book or heard someone talking like that...

But it was encouraging. In some way, considering that you couldn’t protest, having your mouth covered. But still, it was encouraging.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

4. Take classes together.

You can have the power of controlling Floyd’s behaviour, making other students’ life easier. Or you two can be a walking disaster.

Turning alchemy lesson into putting random ingredients into a boiler and praying that the mysterious mixture won’t explode.

History classes started being a regular pinching ritual to keep yourself from falling asleep (you are being pinched more, even when you don’t feel sleepy).

In contrast, flying lessons are peaceful. Nor Jade, nor Floyd, nor Azul are fond of these classes. Floyd is much eager to stand both feet on the ground, watching you practice or having you sulking next to him about heights.

However, if you are a calm, shy, or tranquil person, exchanging little notes or drawings will be a little habit of yours. Handing them discreetly under the eye of sir Crewel is quite a challenge, but it also gives satisfaction once the note was given.

Floyd throws away most of your paper conversations, but the ones he really likes, he cherishes them by keeping them with him, stuffed in his pockets. He will be irritated if anyone would like to see what you two were writing about, even if the talk was about new strawberries delivery for the new recipe.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

5. Being ticklish or not.

There are two possible scenarios, whether his new, lovely target is ticklish or not.

If is: prepare for being touched a lot. Observing how you quiver with surprise, when he lightly—he especially makes his touch less fierce, knowing very well that tickling isn’t violent—wraps his hands around your waist, making you hold your breath.

He would tickle you a lot, very often making you cry out of laugh and pain that follows sharp writhing and fidgeting, but never that much, to seriously upset you. That’s some luck in such unlucky situation.

If not: he will try to find other weak point. Or will try to make you ticklish—his hands are particularly cold and pressing them to your warm skin, might make you give him a reaction he would enjoy.

Albeit, if you also won’t return any expression even then, he will seriously search for some other weakness. Slightly biting an ear lobe, whispering next to your ear or anything that could make his smile appear, once he made you put him somewhere between “I despise you with each and every cell” and abstract mumbling with the heat on your checks.

Oh, he loves your reactions so much.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

6. Learn all nicknames he gave other people (you will unlock an option to slightly dish other people).

“Oh Lord...” you muttered to yourself, as your gaze followed scribbled list of names that Jade just passed to you. He willingly connected all student’s names with pseudonyms Floyd gave other people and handed the roaster over to you once you helped him with some kitchen cleaning.

“There are so many, right?” Jade replied with a polite smile on his face. “I’m sure you already memorised some of them, being around Floyd that much.”

You nodded mindlessly as you tried to get names into your head. You mouthed them soundlessly one by one, motivated to learn them by the end of the week.

The chuckle that escaped Jade’s lips startled you, and you realised that he still was in the room. Or that you didn’t leave the Lounge even after your shift has already ended.

“My brother surely didn’t exaggerate anything about you,” he said, his tone a bit more buoyant than ever, although you couldn’t be sure as the thick air of mystery still echoed in his voice. “I wonder how it will finally end?”

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

7. Always share your takoyaki with him.

“What are you hiding, Shrimpy?”

You shuddered at a voice that you did not want to hear at this moment, not for all the world. Unless that the world included a chest filled with takoyaki, which you could give to certain somebody.

You felt that instead of a shashlik of tasty balls, you were holding a knife in your hands, a veritable proof of a crime you had committed. It weighed heavily in your grip, and Floyd's approaching footsteps did not make your situation any better.

It was a time to hide the evidence.

You pushed as much as you could into your mouth and swallowed a few balls without even gnawing them much. You almost choked on them.

“Me? I?” you asked innocently. You sincerely hoped that no sauce or a stray piece of cake was left on your face. “What could I possibly hide?”

"Hmm, hmm~," he drew closer, and you needed all your will gathered, to make yourself stay where you were. Even without looking in the mirror, you knew you were all pale on the face. “With my little eye, I spy something...”

His gaze went down, just to your hands, which you tried to hide behind your back.

Not giving him a clear look at your palms or wooden stick, you turned around on the heel and run with all your might. Your muscles felt somehow stiff as if they also didn’t see a chance to win this race.

Now Floyd was sure you are hiding something, and there is no chance he’ll let it go.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

8. Watch him at his basketball practice.

81:30 for the blue team!

“Floyd once again started playing wild,” Ace breathed with clear regret in his voice. He glanced your way, frowning at you. “It’s your fault. Please come at practices when Floyd is in my team, not otherwise.”

You laughed awkwardly as he walked away.

A moment later, Floyd reached for a bottle with water and a towel you bravely guarded through the whole practice. He smiled wholeheartedly, happy with the win, water, and your presence.

“How did you like the game?” he asked once he changed from PE clothes and you two started heading towards Octavinelle.

“It was really fun!” you admitted, a speck of amusement appeared in Floyd’s eyes. “The red team didn’t have much time to capture a ball before you got hold of it again.”

“Hehe~ I’m glad you liked it,” he said. “I really like to play basketball, even more than ever, when I know that you are watching! That’s why,” he added, sincerity well-heard in his voice, “you need to come even more often!”

You nodded happily.

You just couldn’t mind it, all that accompanying him.

It was... fun.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

9. Dance, dance, dance!

Heels tapped on the floor and the sound of these steps would probably have spread through the room, if not for the jazz music pounding through Mostro Lounge’s speakers.

Floyd pulled you closer, letting a playful smile on his lips stretch even more. You couldn’t help but smile back, before gasping as he spun you around your axis. You lost balance and would fall if not steady grip around your waist, as Floyd leaned on closer to you, making you bend on one leg more and entirely rely on his touch.

Last notes of melody faded, and you still were in that pose, facing each other. With each second, Floyd’s face was changing from some form of amazement to amusement, finally letting you properly stand.

“Ha... When did you learn to dance so smoothly?” you asked smiling in wonder.

“Hehe~ With legs you can dance a lot more than in the sea,” he answered. “On land, it’s super fun~”

You nodded at his words.

Floyd was a wonderful dancer.

But you can’t be sure if being a good dancing partner is the only thing that made you feel all warm and fuzzy because butterflies still didn’t leave your stomach.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

10. “Let’s do something fun!”

“Here is your paycheck,” Azul handed you a white envelope, sealed with a stamp with the Octavinelle logo. “And you, [Name], was also working for some request, right?”

You nodded as you stared at the envelope.

Somehow, knowing how stupid the lingering thought in your mind was, you couldn’t bear to look up. If you would, your gaze would probably ignore all the elegant furniture of the room, even the owner of the room, Azul, just to settle on Floyd.

If you saw anything more than his shoes, that stupid thought would make their way outside, turning plans into action.

And Floyd unknowingly did everything to make them come true.

“Shrimpy,” he cupped your face with his hands, judging by his voice he seemed quite... worried? When he made you look in his olive and gold eyes, you started holding your breath. “Are you okay?”

With that question, your strong will to wish for something expensive or practical was broken.

You started fidgeting more, not knowing how to express your thoughts in words. “I think I have a request... a question for Floyd, rather than for you, Azul...”

Azul nodded at first uncertain and the room has fallen into silence once again until you spoke.

“Well, Floyd,” you turned to him, trying your best not to wander your gaze away from him, “Please, take your time with answering, but I want your response to be, uh, honest.”

You were tripping onto your own words, embarrassment soaring in your body as you started to think that you should’ve kept quiet. But Floyd was patient with your answer, as well as Jade and Azul who observed the situation as if they predicted it before.

“I mean- Okay, just answer the question.” You took an erratic breath. “Would you like to—”

“Sure!” Floyd interrupted you before even hearing the whole question. “I would like to do everything with you.”

You stood there, all confused. But, by Floyd’s expression you knew that he guessed what you wanted to say. Face heating up, you forgot about Azul and Jade, who hid a chuckle by turning his head to the side.

“How fun,” he said as Floyd wrapped his arms around you, as if shielding you from other people in the room.

“I won’t share Shrimpy with you, Jade. Not a chance.”

#floyd leech #floyd leech x reader #floyd x reader #floyd #twisted wonderland floyd #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #twst x reader #twst imagines #twst floyd #twst floyd x reader #anonymous

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wallwriterstuff · 4 years ago

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These Violent Delights ||Alec Volturi x Female Reader||

Part 3 of a request for @tiger-khans-blog

Part 1 - Obsession Part 2 - When You’re Lost I’ll Leave My Gaslight On

Warnings: Yandere!Alec, obsessive behaviour, unhealthy relationships and implied non-con later on. This is possibly one of the darkest fics I have ever written so please be aware if controlling behaviour, gaslighting etc. is triggering to you, do not read this fic.

This fic in particular contains graphic descriptions of violence and injury further down.

Words: 5543

Summary: With no idea what is and isn’t real anymore you’re beginning to lose your mind and suspect your loving mate isn’t all he seems to be. Desperate for some semblance of sanity you try one last time to clear your head, and the consequences are dire.

Demetri had suspected that there was something more going on beyond the surface. Y/N Swan was quite a sweet little thing and he had missed her greatly, but he respected her decision – as had Felix – to create some distance between them so she could learn to get along with Alec. Now Demetri was wondering if she’d ever made that decision at all. With increasing frequency Alec had burst into his room or the throne room with the declaration you were missing, and Demetri had immediately put his gift to good use. In almost all the situations Demetri had prepared for the worst, perhaps he’d find you kidnapped or injured somewhere after an outing gone wrong? But every time he’d found you you had been perfectly fine and dreadfully confused as to why he was there at all.

You were always doing quite mundane things. He didn’t even need to track you half the time to tell Alec you were at that little café whose pastries you adored. Sometimes you ventured further out, wanting to see the leaves changing colour in autumn in the park nearby. Other times you were literally right on their doorstep, drawing on the edge of the fountain. On those occasions Demetri stayed with you, letting you have a few minutes more of freedom, because he had started to notice a disturbing pattern – every time he found you you looked more and more lost. You had adamantly refused to accept Alec had not seen your note the first few times, but the doubt slowly crept in until you were entirely unsure of what you had or hadn’t done. Alec was never violent upon your reunion, playing the part of the concerned mate perfectly. He was always so relieved to have you back, but the boy seemed oblivious that you were obviously suffering.

You had lost that spark you used to have in your eyes, and your posture had become more slumped over. You were meeker, agreeing to whatever was put forward to you without question more often than not. Demetri was sure he could tell you the sky was purple and you’d whole heartedly agree, even if the blue was staring you right in the face. Your withdrawn personality didn’t seem to trouble Alec but it bothered him greatly. He wasn’t sure how it had happened but you were a shell of your former self, an anxious, meek little thing who looked nowhere near as happy as she should given she had found her mate. He had caught you in the kitchen once, tired from a day of studying Italian with Marcus as you had become want to do, berating yourself for dropping a pan on your toes while cooking. To say he was surprised to hear your cursing your ‘clumsy human hands’ was an understatement.

No, no Demetri was beyond suspicious, especially when you began to go ‘missing’ more frequently, looking more and more desperate each time he found you further and further out. You had fought him the last time he found you, pounding against his chest and begging him to not take you back. His concern had brought him in all good faith to Alec’s door while you slept one night.

“What can I do for you?” Alec asked, head tilting curiously. Demetri frowned.

“It’s about Y/N. I have some concerns, Alec.” He answered. Alec’s frown immediately depeened, his eyes growing darker.

“What concerns? Is she sick? She seemed fine when I left her to sleep.”

“No, no nothing like that, though I fear her mind may not be healthy. She seems…anxious, desperate to be out of the castle. Is there something going on Alec?” he asked. Alec’s already dark eyes turned black, the red leeching out of his irises so fast Demetri was almost shocked. His expression was cold as an arctic wind and his voice held little room for argument when he answered him.

“That is of no concern to you, she’s shared her worries with me already. You overstep Demetri, she’s my mate and I’ll care for her how I see fit.”

“I simply want to know if there is anything I can do to help. It’s no secret we care for the girl to Alec, let us help.” He frowned.

“What she needs from you, Demetri, is to be left the hell alone. Stop filling her head with poison. I know you talk at the fountain. She’s upset because you suggested she might be allowed to visit her family one day. They haven’t written to her in months, the false hope crushed her. Leave my mate to me and stop poking your nose where it doesn’t belong.” He snarled quietly. Demetri hissed quietly, his irritation flaring.

“What are you talking about? A letter arrived for her Tuesday gone.” He received a door to his face as his answer, the wood actually splintering a little with the force Alec slammed it with. He knew you had been getting letters frequently from the Cullen’s and your sister, he had seen some of them when the secretary was sorting the mail out, so why hadn’t you been getting them? If you were in such a deep spiral surely it was a contributing factor. The only thing he could think of was that the secretary hadn’t delivered them. But why? he flitted straight to her desk without another moment to spare, finding her packing up to leave for the evening. She jumped at his sudden appearance.

“Demetri, I didn’t see you there, how can I help you?” she was a new girl, the fourth one in the past two months, and he didn’t care to remember her name. His head tilted.

“You received a letter the other day for Y/N Swan did you not?” he questioned, leaning against her desk. She frowned, nodding.

“I did, I gave it to Alec to deliver, did it not reach her?” she asked, looking somewhat anxious now. Demetri paused, letting his mind work it over. So, Alec had been supposed to deliver that had he? How many more had he gotten his grubby little hands on? Demetri felt a quiet sense of horror dawn on him. It made a lot more sense suddenly, why you weren’t getting any of your family’s letters. Alec had taken them all to keep you from getting in touch with them. Was your silence towards himself and Felix the same? Orchestrated by Alec so not even you knew the real reason the three of you no longer spoke?

“Not on this occasion. Not to worry, thank you for your help, sweet thing.” He shot her a charming smile to mask his sudden anxiety and disappeared as quickly as he came, heading straight for the throne room. Maybe you hadn’t been going mad at all, maybe Alec was the one driving you insane…

“What is the meaning of this intrusion?” Caius growled, beyond annoyed with the way he had flung the door open in his haste. Demetri grimaced.

“My apologies Masters, but I need to talk to you urgently.”

You had to get out this time. The walls of old buildings scraped at your hands as you bolted down one alleyway after the next, swinging around corners and doing your best to stay upright as the cobblestones did their best to trip you. You couldn’t take it anymore. Your anxiety was at an all time high, panic attacks in the morning a common thing as you dreaded the day ahead – another day of disappointing Alec in all your human imperfection. There was no one you could turn to for comfort either, not with Demetri so busy all the time. He was less of a friend and more of a guard, dragging you back each time you left as Alec had promised you his duty as a guard entailed. The worst part was that you knew your feelings of inadequacy were completely unnecessary because you weren’t the one in the wrong, Alec was.

It had become more and more obvious he wasn’t letting you leave the castle, and sneaking out when you could became your one chance to see sunlight, to have any sort of freedom. When you’d tried to ask him about it he’d brushed you off again, telling you you were being silly and reminding you of all the times he’d taken you out to the Gardens, all the gifts you’d been given as apologies for missed opportunities to venture out into the world…but he’d been lying as long as you’d known him. Maybe he had learned to control his urges, but not his darkest impulses. Alec had wanted you all to himself and he had managed to succeed with his lies and deceit. It had been a complete accident, when you came across the mountain of lies he’d told. You had been waiting to surprise him (having stayed up to wait for him to finish his guard shift) when you spilt a glass of apple juice down your shirt. His closet was the closest place to find a replacement and it would hardly be the first time you’d taken a shirt of his.

The shrine in his closet was just too much.

Everything that had gone missing lay at an alter dedicated to you. Tears blurred your vision as the flash of ivory and familiar, scribbly writing permeated your mind once more. Letters – Bella’s letters. Your sister had never forgotten you. Alec had simply made you think she had. You had been right all along, the bundled-up letters proved as such, he had always been a monster. Selfish and ugly all the way to the core, Alec Volturi had never been your Prince Charming. How many other lies had he told? He’d isolated you until all you had was him, till you relied on him to get you through your day. No more. You tripped over your own feet, vision blurred by tears. The ground rushed up to meet you, a sharp sting ripping through your knee as you cried out, catching yourself with your hands before you could smash your face into the stone. Gasping for air, you tried desperately to fill your lungs, the rising hysteria making it difficult to steady your breathing. What if you couldn’t escape? Demetri always found you and he’d drag you back there, you knew he would. He couldn’t be allowed to find you, not this time, you had to keep moving and –

“Signorina?”

Your head snapped up, body scrambling to right itself despite the deep throbbing in your knee. A young man not too much older than yourself was slowly coming towards you, hands raised and expression concerned. He had a sort of roguish charm about him, tousled dark hair and equally as dark eyes (too lose to Alec’s angry onyx to be of any comfort) set in a tanned face. He had more colour to his skin than Alec could ever hope to have. With the sleeves of a plain white shirt rolled up to his elbows, top buttons undone and smart pants on, he must have been coming home from a shift as a waiter perhaps, maybe a barista in one of the fancier coffee houses in town, but you didn’t trust him at all. How could you trust anyone when the one person you had relied on had been a lying, manipulative, deceitful little –

“S-stay back.” You stammered, scrambling to get to your feet now. The tear in your skin oozed fresh blood, dampening your skin and making you whimper. It wasn’t that it hurt necessarily, though it did sting terribly, it was more the fear that you knew what lurked in the shadows of Volterra and if anyone smelled that…well, Demetri was a hundred times more likely to find you now, wasn’t he?

“I don’t mean you any…erm…ah…hurt?” he tried, his accent thick and his English clearly not at the level of fluency. If you were in a better state of mind you’d be at least grateful he tried, however he was still approaching you and you didn’t enjoy his proximity when you needed to move. You had to keep going, had to get to a bus stop or a train station, something! Was there even a place like that in Volterra? There had to be right? You took a step away from him, your leg failing you so you half fell, half limped forward. His arms were around you in an instant and you screamed, wriggling desperately to fight him off.

“Let me go! Let me go!”

“Merda! Smettila di lottare!” (Shit! Stop fighting!) he cursed, tightening his grip on you. Legs flailing, you threw your head back in a desperate attempt to get him to let go, your skull protesting as bone crunched beneath it. His arms dropped and you darted forward, only for your knee to give way once more. With another loud curse the boy was on-top of you then, glancing around wildly to see if anyone had noticed your scuffle yet. His weight atop you was almost suffocating given how much trouble you had already had breathing, and tears filled your eyes as you wriggled to try and be free of him.

“Get off of me! Help!” you screamed. Blood dripped from his nose onto your cheeks, hot and thick and oozing slowly down your cheek. “Stop it!” Strong hands encircled your wrists, pinning them harshly to the stone beneath you. It dug into your spine uncomfortably and it became very clear very quickly you were not escaping this boy.

“Stop!” he snapped, muttering a few choice words in Italian you had heard Felix use once or twice. His expression was contorted into a mask of pain, his nose swollen but not broken and his body holding tight to your own to keep you from moving. Your struggling was only serving to make you brush against him though, and it was clear the effect it was having on him was not helping him decide to let you go. If you had been in your right mind, you would have understood this boy was only trying to help, stop you moving to ensure you didn’t hurt yourself further, but in the moment your reality was warped and far too terrifying for you to see sense.

“Fuoco! Fuoco!” (Fire! Fire!) Your father had always taught you to tell fire rather than help, it attracted more attention he said. You didn’t attract the kind of attention you wanted. The boy was thrown off of you in a blur of movement, his body smashing into the brickwork of the house across from you. You heard the bones shattering, his ear-piercing scream ringing in your ears as a black cloak obscured his attacker. With or without the cloak you knew who it was, the smaller, lean stature, the ferocity with which he tore into his victim. You whimpered, eyes turning away from the poor boy. There was no way to help him now, not when Alec was busy popping his bones through his skin like one might spear a sausage with a cocktail stick at a party. Rolling to your front, you tried desperately to get your trembling limbs to cooperate, your hysterical screaming echoing off of the walls.

You had barely limped three steps when the screeching behind you abruptly cut away into a gurgling sound. Ice cold hands found your shoulders and you whirled desperately to try and fend Alec off, only to freeze at the sight of the poor, mangled boy behind you. His actions may not have been good, but he didn’t deserve to be folded in on himself like a human pretzel, bones poking out of his skin and blood gushing from an open wound on his throat. He was drowning in crimson, choked by the same saccharine liquid Alec was licking off of his thumb now, onyx eyes boring into your own with his usual apathetic expression hiding the pure mania in his eyes.

He hadn’t even fed, he’d killed the boy for sport.

“See what happens when you go out alone little human?” he asked. The bile rose in your throat too quickly to stop it and Alec obligingly held your hair as you turned to the side and threw up at your feet, hot acid burning the back of your throat and stomach churning violently. Panting, you kept your wide-eyed stare fixed on the cobblestones. Even then it wasn’t enough, a trail of blood slowly seeping its way towards you, descending downhill like some morbid snake writhing between the stones. You couldn’t keep the tears away this time as Alec’s breath, metallic with the scent of another man’s blood, sent a wave of dizziness over you.

“P-please…please d-don’t…I can’t…” your head spun, too many thoughts and feelings crashing and colliding and rendering you a stammering mess before you finally grew mute, your body growing cold. Alec held you tenderly, like you were the only thing in the world to him that mattered, his embrace as soft as cotton but cold, as though death itself had shrouded you. In the distant parts of your mind you recognised he was talking to you, but you didn’t dare listen. He was the serpent that tempted Eve, a voice of velvet spinning spider webs to ensnare you. Dimly, you noted that the boy’s blood was running past your toes now.

Was this how it ended for you? Had Alec finally had enough of your obedience training? Clearly it hadn’t worked. You felt filthy to the core for enjoying his embrace, but his arms were strong and held you when your legs couldn’t anymore, his honeyed words a balm to your aching soul, promising his own brand of everlasting love - the same brand he’d gotten you hopelessly addicted to. Even his scent made your head swim, fresh linen that should be so crisp and clear, refreshing, just drowned you further. Nobody would come for you now. Alec had finally gotten you in his grasp just as he wanted and you were far, far too tainted for anyone to save. The wounds his love had inflicted too deep, festering and rotting you from the inside out, and the worst part was, you had let it happen.

You had accepted every kind word, every smile, every present, every touch, as a gift bestowed on you that you were unworthy of. So blinded by the dazzling display of redemption were you you hadn’t seen beyond the surface of the superficial affection he laid at your feet, too enamoured with all he had become to see the old monster lingering in every smile and darkening of his eyes. Alec had never changed, he had simply wore you down, so when his frozen fingers pushed your jaw upward and to the left you didn’t fight, because deep down you knew you’d never stood a chance.

“It’s alright Y/N, you’re only human,” he whispered, “You can be forgiven for that…”

“How?” your voice cracked. Forgiveness seemed impossible. If Bella or your father or anyone you loved could see you now you knew forgiveness would not be the word on their lips. How could you be forgiven for letting yourself fall so far? How could you be forgiven for being the reason that poor boy didn’t go home tonight? He had chosen to try and help you and it had only gotten him brutally murdered. The only thing Alec had ever been right about was that you were only human. None of the terrible things that had happened to you or anyone surrounding you were your fault. The blame lay solely at Alec’s feet.

“By acknowledging your flaws and becoming something more.”

Somehow, despite all the evidence before you, you really hadn’t expected him to bite down. Some part of you still thought he was above that maybe. It was like lava pouring straight from his mouth into your veins, filling your wound until it spilled over and shot down your arms, through your torso, scorching your nerve endings. It spread rapidly and you couldn’t bite back the bloodcurdling scream that left you. Alec held you tight as your body jerked, trying to escape the inescapable, the agony was all internal, a fire consuming you from the inside out.

“Alec! Alec what did you do!”

“What I had to to protect my mate!”

“Good god Alec…”

“Look at this mess.” The voices were indistinguishable, heightened and then muted, blending and yet distinctive. Your vision was too blurred to figure out the faces behind the cloaks swarming you, ripping you from one cold embrace to the next. Everything was too hot and you couldn’t escape it, no way to tear yourself out of your own body as it was flooded with acid.

“Shhhh, shhh little human.”

“Demetri get her out of here before she draws attention to this scene.”

“D-D-De-“ you barely got half of his name out before another scream broke through your throat. You didn’t have the strength to hold it back, couldn’t feel the grip your friend had on you. The world was slipping away inch by inch as you drowned in a pool of molten fire, the surface disappearing and taking you with it. Maybe this was hell? Maybe your weakness had earned you a spot in eternal fire and torment and this was only the beginning of a very long forever?

“Just give in Y/N, let go, just let go.” Somewhere through the pain you were sure Demetri had said this to you, and you battered heart didn’t know how to take it. It beat erratically, every frantic thud hoping beyond hope it would take you closer to a reunion with Bella, with the Cullen’s, with anyone you held dear. Did Demetri just want you to fall unconscious or did he mean you to really let go? What did you have to wake up for in Volterra after all? Alec would never let you leave, that much was clear now. You tried to hold onto these thoughts, really debate them and use them to ground you and keep you there, but they scattered like ash with the rest of you as the fire built to a raging inferno and melted everything you ever were.

The intense agony was all you knew now. What else could you do? Trapped in your head your only option was to count the seconds between one wave and the next, each drowning bout of flame lapping at your soul, disintegrating who you were piece by piece. By the time the fire had started to recede you weren’t sure how much time had passed, if time even had meaning. You were amazed your heart had held out under the assault of venom. It started at your extremities, like something in your chest was winching the fire back in, but as the sweet and numbing relief of the cold crept in at your toes the fire in your heart burned hotter. A grunting sound was the first thing you’d heard beyond the screaming in your head for a while, and you realised it was you, desperately fighting back the cry building in your throat as the white hot core in your chest blazed through the last of your humanity.

By the time you slumped back down, your consciousness drifting back to you slowly, you were struggling to remember how you had gotten in this predicament in the first place. Where were you? Who was around you? You wanted Bella, oh you wanted your sister so badly. The air around you felt heavier on your skin, saturated with sharp scents that overpowered your nose and made your tongue tingle when you opened your mouth for that first gasp of air. Your eyes were next to snap open, immediately focusing on the cracks in the wooden beams and the stone ceiling, the dust mites floating in the air. There was an assault of noise next, voices chattering and laughing, birds twittering, cars honking and more, so much more. Hands flying up to your ears, you noticed how it felt different to move, more fluid somehow, and the bright shine in the corner of your eye mad you sit up and move your hand back towards the light.

It glittered. Your hand was crystal, reflecting light and throwing it against the walls where it shattered into rainbow patterns, dazzling your too focused eyes.

“Y/N?”

Danger. Danger danger danger danger danger –

“Felix, give her time…it’s alright young one, we are not here to harm you.” Another foreign voice. You moved so fast everything should have blurred, your body twisting and turning agilely as you shot off of the soft mattress and hit the hard wall with crushing force, stone chipping and falling around you while you dug your nails into the natural rock of the wall. The noise that ripped from your throat was threatening, air rushing up from your lungs and pushing out between your teeth. It shocked you enough to make you freeze, brain scrambling to catch up because there was no way that noise had come from you. Wait, who were you again? Who were they? The voices seemed familiar, but different, their faces to. The men were beautiful in a way nobody should ever be allowed to be, the flawless planes of their faces also reflecting diamond light across the walls as one slowly crept closer to you. Another hiss of air escaped your throat, warning him to stay back.

“Now who needs to give her time.” Felix, that’s what he’d called him…Felix! Your mind dredged up the murky images on demand, and you couldn’t help but frown as you tried to clear the image in your head. It was like watching the memories flow through dirty water, Felix and Demetri helping decorate your room with you, avoiding you in the corridors, no longer talking to you because Alec –

Alec!

“No.” you whispered, startled again into standing up straight, hand flying to your throat as a foreign, bell-like voice rang out. Demetri paused, letting your wild eyes take in the room.

“He is not here Y/N, the Masters’ are punishing him for his…indiscretion, by making him miss your awakening.” Felix chose his words carefully as Demetri slowly continued forward. It was so hard to focus, so much noise, so much to see, so many thoughts spinning rapidly through your mind. It worked faster now, you noticed, your brain working at top speed in a way you knew you’d only achieve with a substantial amount of caffeine if you were still human. Thoughts of Alec consumed you. Where was he? What had become of the boy he had murdered? Would he be kinder to you now you were no longer human? No longer imperfect…

“Y/N, try to focus, I know there is a lot to process right now.” Demetri sounded apologetic almost and your eyes snapped to him.

“I want to go home.” You whispered. Even as you said the words there was an uncomfortable tug in your gut, like something sharp had nicked at your intestines almost. The idea made you uncomfortable.

“What you need right now is to feed.” Demetri amended, his hand gentle on your arm. His words started an inferno in your throat. It was like the worst sore throat you’d ever had multiplied ad infinitum, the burn scorching from top to bottom while your gut twisted horribly. You weren’t just hungry, you were starving.

“Of course that’s what she needs, what newborn doesn’t?” the voice was smooth, so hypnotic you couldn’t help but relax, silently pleading to hear more. If your blood hadn’t already frozen over, you swore it would have upon seeing Alec again. He held what you assumed was the secretary in his arms, given her smart attire, but it was difficult to focus on little else other than the thrumming of her pulse, the tattoo in your brain even more hypnotising than his voice had been. Neither Demetri nor Felix could catch you as you dipped beneath their arms and snatched the body straight out of Alec’s hands, desperate to stop the burning in your throat.

“Y/N don’t!” Demetri’s voice sounded far off, almost like you were listening to him through cotton wool. The sound of blood flowing, a heart thumping…it was far far louder. Your body moved on autopilot, teeth clamping onto soft flesh. After that first burst of sweet, hot blood, your mind went completely blank. The taste was sublime, so intense on your tastebuds like nothing else had ever been. It soothed the fire in your throat some, a torrent of red dousing the flames and soaking your skin. When you could no longer take mouthfuls of the saccharine substance, a needy whine bubbled up in your throat, the tap running dry far too soon for your liking. Your throat still itched.

“Shhhhhh, I know, I know. Do not worry my love, we’ll find you more.” That voice, that hypnotic voice…with the fire in your throat calmed somewhat it was clearer in your ears, helping to ease your desperation and focus your mind some. The fingers in your hair were gentle, the occasionally brush of their skin against yours warm and inviting. You leaned into the tender touch gratefully. There was a scent too, the most intoxicating, fresh linen and pine scent, a hint of something smoky lingering underneath. Inhaling deeply, you let strong arms pull you into a firm chest, taking in lungfulls of that heady scent and letting your turbulent thoughts calm to the rhythm of the fingers running through your hair.

“Alec…”

You gasped slightly, eyes snapping open from your half-lidded gaze. The name had filled you with fear, trepidation, but the sensations surrounding you right now…you were in a safe, hazy little bubble, it was difficult to feel the fear you thought you should. You had totally forgotten he was even in the room and it was no small shock to you that he was the one holding you, that he had created this internal sense of tranquillity you were drowning in.

“I will not let my mate starve, the Masters’ and their punishment be damned.” The smooth bass of a sprightly young voice that filtered in your ears was so similar yet so different. Alec’s voice was nothing short of mesmerising and when you looked up at him his face was just as distracting. Smooth, flawless skin, pale as the moonlight on ocean waves, stretched like an unblemished canvas across high cheekbones and a strong jaw. You could trace the perfect curve of dark eyebrows with your finger, run your hands through the soft tresses of dark hair that framed his face and brushed his eyes. Crimson red eyes peered into your own, softened by adoration and desire.

It was as if your very heart burst forth from your chest to reach out to his. You never wanted anyone else to look at you the way Alec did. Suddenly, nothing he did had mattered, because you were the imperfect one before. This man before you…you saw it now with your new eyes, saw his God-like status for what it really was. You had been unworthy until now. He had elevated you to the same status, was able to love you deeply now.

“Alec.” You breathed his name like it was a quiet prayer. His fingers moved from your hair to your jaw, slowly tracing over your cheekbone with his thumb.

“Welcome back. You are…you’re breath taking.” He gently lowered his forehead to yours and you pushed back lightly, desperate to envelop yourself in the warmth his skin now radiated.

“Really?” you whispered.

“Of course.” Alec promised. You closed your eyes, drowning in his heavenly scent.

“Y/N…you’ll need to feed some more. Perhaps we can then contact the Cullen’s and see about getting you home. We don’t usually allow newborns to stay in the castle.” Demetri spoke up finally, shattering the peaceful quiet surrounding you. That pinching sensation in your gut was back again, your eyes widening. Alec had finally accepted you! You were finally good enough and Demetri just wanted to – to send you away? No. No absolutely not. Any thoughts of going home that you had once entertained were long gone. You couldn’t leave now, not when you had to show Alec how grateful you were, how you were better now like this.

“Do I have to go?” you whispered. Alec shook his head.

“Of course not Y/N, your place is here, with me.” His lips were so soft on your own, a shiver rolling down your spine at the rightness of it. He was your perfect fit. You were made for all of his light and dark, to bear the brunt of his best and worst. You hadn’t been before, but you were ready now, ready to survive his obsession.

These violent delights have violent ends

And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,

Which, as they kiss, consume. The sweetest honey

Is loathsome in his own deliciousness

And in the taste confounds the appetite.

Therefore love moderately. Long love doth so.

Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow. Friar Lawrence, Romeo and Juliet, Act 2 Scene 6, by William Shakespeare

#twilight #twilight fanfiction #alec volturi #alec volturi x female reader #demetri volturi #felix volturi #dark themes #obsession #request

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monstersandmaw · 4 years ago

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Evening to ya, Ghosti✌️😆

Sorry if the wording sounds silly, but I wanted to ask if you know any rituals I could do for the New Years. 🤣 Christmas hasn't been exactly an easy time for me for various reasons and I tend to get the holiday blues pretty bad, and for a long old while New Years has felt very similar. I'm doing my best to feel hopeful and to have some faith for the new year, but it's turning out to be trickier than I anticipated. So I wanted to ask for suggestions as to do anything that could help feeling more hopeful, I dunno. :3

Though feel free to ignore this if you don't have the energy for it. I hope you had delightful holiday however you celebrated!!! 😊💖💖💖💖

Hey anon! (it’s now afternoon here in the UK, and it was morning when I started this! I got a bit carried away). I don’t know that I’m necessarily the right person to ask about this, but here are some ideas of things I’ve found helpful/centring/calming anyway which you could draw from. Other folks, please feel free to chime in with your favourite ways to put the old year to bed and welcome in the new one!

(first of all, I’m sending you lots of virtual ghostli hugs to help drive away those holiday blues. That sucks, and I’m so sorry it’s been so tough for you.)

Here’s a rundown of what’s below, and I’ll put in a ‘keep reading’ so that it’s not an incredibly long post! Some of it is more on the ‘spiritutal’ side of things, and others are just mundane and practical things.

Congratulate yourself on making it through the clusterfuck that was 2020

Make some tea and meditate on what’s been and what you wish for

Go outside, be still, and breathe deeply

Let go of negative events and thoughts by writing them down, then safely burning the paper

Disconnect from social media for a few days (or however long you’re comfortable with)

Start a bullet journal

Write lists of goals for 2021 and then refine/distill them down to 3 manageable objectives

Commit 100% to 6 months of positive change

Pick three dates/months in the year when good things will happen, and make them happen (including growing veg/fruit)

Light a candle on the full moon or New Year

Ok, so, first of all, you’ve made it through this year!! That’s no small accomplishment, given the sheer volume of absolute shite that has been flung at us from all angles, no matter where in the world you live. Celebrate that. Seriously, I’m not being flippant. Take a moment of stillness wherever you are, be ‘present’, and just think about the fact that you’re here, right now, reading this post. Not everyone is here any more for one reason or another, but you did it. Congratulate yourself and celebrate that. Treat yourself to a slice of cake (or something you really enjoy) specifically to celebrate making it through 2020.

Make a cup of tea (try a new blend or recipe perhaps, or stick with your absolute favourite), or make a comforting drink of your choice. As you pour the water into the cup, breathe in the steam and enjoy the scent of it. Try and imbue all the positive things - memories, achievements, moments etc. - that you encountered this year into the tea/drink, and think about them growing in strength as the tea steeps, and envisage them continuing on to next year too. When you drink the tea, you take the positive thoughts into yourself and they become a part of you. You could try it in the morning with a caffeinated drink (if you enjoy those) and let it fuel you for the day, or you could try a herbal tea at night to let the good vibes steep overnight while you rest. Make it part of your daily routine; a private meditation.

Go outside and find a quiet spot somewhere and either stand or sit and just soak up the atmosphere. If there’s a tree nearby, think about the way its roots are planted in the earth, its trunk stands tall, and its branches reach towards the sky. Feel that space inside you. Breathe deeply in and out, visualising your lungs filling to the deepest parts, starting at the bottom. Count to four for each inhale, and six out (or whatever you’re comfortable with, so long as the exhale is longer than the inhale). This will help to still you and calm you.

If you have something fireproof (can just be a ceramic bowl), take a piece of paper and make a moment to write down all the negative things about this year, using a pen that you’re comfortable with. If you’re not one for words, draw pictures. You can make it really beautiful or just scribble it all down - it doesn’t matter. Get that shit out. Look at it for a while and read it through, mentally letting go of each thing as your eyes pass over it, then light one corner (carefully!!!) and let it burn somewhere with good ventilation (a cooker hood is good for that, but outside is better). Visualise all that negativity being swallowed by the universe and let it go. My favourite line from the Seamus Heaney translation of Beowulf comes at Beowulf’s funeral when a Geat woman is singing her grief at his passing to the sky, and there’s the simple sentence: “Heaven swallowed the smoke.” How beautiful is that? The sky swallowed up her grief as she poured it out to the universe. The negativity might take some time to vanish from your life (it’s not going to disappear at the same time as the paper, sadly!), but watching it go can be the first stage of letting things go. I did this last year, and I’m only just letting go of the last things on that list, but it was a start, and it made me feel more at peace.

Disconnect from social media. I know that with so much more happening online this year out of necessity, we’ve become even more dependant on our phones and computers, and it’s wonderful that we have this chance to connect with people when we can’t see them face to face, but social media can also act as a crucible for negative feelings. People usually post the best or the worst aspects of what’s going on for them or what they care about, so it leads to a skewed view of both the world and of what’s going on amongst our connections. It’s easy to start feeling insignificant next to someone else because of their achievements or their looks etc. and it’s also easy to start to get a bleak outlook when the news is full of terrible stories and people are reacting to it in a volatile and often knee-jerk way. Take some time off - uninstall the apps, or put the limiter setting on, or just step back - for a day, two days, a week, whatever you’re comfortable with. It doesn’t have to be forever. If you use those platforms to talk to people, tell them what you’re doing, and give them another way to reach you if they need. No need to isolate yourself completely!! Think about how you felt before you started it (write it down?) and do the same afterwards, and compare. If it didn’t work for you, then that’s fine too.

Start a bullet journal! Now is the perfect time to start bullet journaling. I first started this year when I felt like time was slipping through my fingers and my life was out of my control, and it’s really helped me to get a sense of order back. It’s not the magic cure-all for procrastinators and time wasters, trust me, but it can help to organise your mind as well as your day, and keep track of your habits etc. It can be literally whatever tool you need it to be. There’s a trend on social media - particularly Instagram and YouTube - that shows off these gorgeous journals that are basically works of art in themselves, and while it’s absolutely fine to aspire to that if you want to, the essential point of the bullet journal is to be a tool. You can buy print-outs from Etsy if you don’t fancy doing your own spreads. But don’t get completely hung up on pretty spreads and layouts because you won’t use it fully then. If you’ve got ‘new book fear’, like I did, make your own! I literally started my journaling by folding a few pieces of paper over, slapping a few stickers on them to cheer them up, and writing some lists. I didn’t buy a ‘proper’ journal until July 2020 when I’d got the hang of what I wanted out of the tool, and how to use it. I adapted one or two things, and I’ll be changing one or two things for next year, but it was a good way to start.

Here are two ‘minimalist’ journals and styles that I found helpful when setting mine up. They focus on usefulness and practicality, rather than overwhelming, artistic spreads and cutesy designs. I’m about to do a ‘plan with me 2021’ journal video for YouTube, so I’ll put that up when I’ve finished it, in case that’s helpful.

Elsa Rhae

Pick Up Limes

Write down the things you want to achieve for 2021. These can be more abstract concepts like ‘more organised’ ‘healthier’ ‘start a business’ etc. Then, when you’ve got as many things as you’d ideally love to achieve/accomplish/manifest (don’t hold back at that stage), take another piece of paper and choose a maximum of six from that first lot to focus on, and below that, choose just three absolutely essential things to focus on. Make those your things for 2021.

Now, this one is a personal one for me, so it may not be applicable at all to you/others, but I’ll share it anyway. For me, I need to make some significant lifestyle changes for my physical and mental health. So, I’ve decided to commit to 6 months of really hard work to bring about those changes. Time is going to pass anyway, from January to June. Six months will come and go anyway. Where will I be in six months’ time? I could be physically and mentally exactly where I am today. That thought is super depressing to me. Or, I could devote 200% focus, commitment, and energy, and bring about those changes, and be the ‘me’ I want to be in six months’ time.

It’s like the adage of ‘given a week to write a speech, it will take you a week, but given a day to write the same speech, it will take you a day’ - your brain will tell you it takes the amount of time that you have at hand to accomplish the task, and that’s simply how long it then takes. Use those three things from the 2021 list above, and commit to making those three things happen.

As an aside, tell someone (whose opinions you value) that you’re going to do this. By telling someone, you’re helping to cement the idea in reality, and you’ve got a support to turn to if it gets rocky, someone to cheer you on, and someone to celebrate with who knew what a struggle and commitment this was to you in the first place.

Pick three points in the year where good things will happen. Book yourself something nice, save up for something and have it delivered then, or tell yourself that you will have achieved [x] by May, or September, or December. For me, it’s a working draft of my novel, and certain health goals by October, but make it yours, and keep those points fixed in your mind. It will help 2021 not to be one amorphous mass of time, and will give it structure and form. You could also choose to grow something in a pot - lots of vegetables can be grown cheaply from seed in a pot on a windowsill, and you’ll have something tasty to eat at the end of it!!

Here’s a slightly gentler idea to finish with:

On New Year’s Eve take a moment to yourself, go outside if it’s not raining or too cold etc., light a candle, hold it (safely) in your hands, and be still. It doesn’t have to be exactly at midnight, but it will help your focus if it’s dark. Otherwise, go to a quiet part of the house and turn the lights down so that the candle flame is your focus. As before, think about what you’ve achieved this year, and be honest, not just negative! It’s very easy to say ‘oh I didn’t achieve anything, it all sucks, it was all awful’, when there will be tiny victories tucked away in there, I promise you, even if it was the toughest year of your life. Then think about where you are at the moment, mentally and physically. Acknowledge that state of being. Look at it with honest eyes. This moment is not for anyone else, so you don’t need to colour it one way or another. It’s for you. If you’re finding it hard not to be negative, be neutral. Let those thoughts come and go, and then turn your mind to the future. Mentally feed those negative thoughts into the flame in front of you, one at a time. Say it out loud if that helps, but do what makes you comfortable. Let the light from the flame fill your mind and your heart, and think about your intentions for the new year.

Tonight (30th Dec) is a full moon, so if that is significant for you, you may wish to do this tonight instead of tomorrow.

I hope that some of that gives you some inspiration, and I hope that people will chime in with their own new year’s rituals and habits. Be honest with yourself but not harsh, and be positive but not unrealistic. This year has been one hell of a ride, and we’re not done yet... Here in the UK, we’ve got the highest numbers of Covid that we’ve ever had, we’re in the harshest lock down (Tier 4) and can’t visit anyone, and we’re also going through Brexit (which is proving a nightmare for everyone, especially small businesses...).

Control the things you can control, and learn and employ systems to ride out the things that are beyond your influence. And take heart - you have a family of folks on here, all across the world!

#new year ritual #new year #resolutions #new year resolutions #rituals #ritual

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sincerelyasomebody · 4 years ago

Text

For This Moment || Jose "Sad Eyes" Guzman

(GIF Credit: @merakiaes)

A/N: Grammatical errors are expected, took a few days to write this. Kept getting distracted. Added background-ish info on Sad Eyes. Tried to mix in what has been mentioned on the show and what I came up with. Please let me know if changes need to be made with the Spanish translations.

Pairing(s): Sad Eyes x Reader

Summary: Everything happens for a reason.

Warnings: fluff, friendzone(d), language,

Word Count: 2716

- ♤ - ♡ - ◇ - ♧ -

The sheer joy on the children's faces and the sound of their laughter, as they watched Principal Nichols be dunked in a water tank, was definitely going to be a highlight for this year's Freeridge Elementary Fun Fair. (Y/N) cheered with them as he was met with a pie to the face, exiting the tank, from his wife Lois. She laughed when a few of her colleagues ambushed the pair with silly string.

A great way to officially declare the fair to be open.

(Y/N) maneuvered her way through the crowd, saying quick 'hello's to the parents of her students, and walked up the pathway leading into the school hall. The space had been split into two areas – hers was the booth of prizes with Kira and Lyall, the music teachers. Instead of the multiple game booths having their own set prizes, winners of the games would be given a token. The amount of tokens won equated to what kind of prize you could get. On the other side of the hall was face painting which Rachel, David and Connor, all fifth grade teachers, were in charge of. This would be (Y/N)'s first time in charge of a booth and she was bubbling with excitement. As a past pupil of the elementary, she was happy to know that the fun fair was still going. Only this time more planning, effort and funding was put into it. The hall was beginning to fill up with those wanting to get their face painted, so she decided to look at the classroom photos from the past hung up on the walls. It didn't take long to spot the familiar second-grade classroom photo that hung up in her parents house. Her eyes scanned through the faces until they landed on the boy in the black button up shirt, khaki shorts and scuffed up shoes; Jose Guzman.

A boy she hadn't really thought much of when the school year started. Until an incident involving both of them allowed an interaction to occur.

Mr Macks (a college student on placement) tried to entertain the students, while their teacher Mrs Robin left to do some photocopying, but it was proving to be difficult. Even more so when he stepped in to deal with a scuffle between three students. He sent them to the reading nook at the back of the class, with the message that Mrs Robin would talk to them when she got back. Then he focused his attention on the rest of the class.

(Y/N) held the drawing of her Poppa's garden, scribbled over with a marker, tightly to her chest as she sat beside the window. Bobby sat next to the library shelf, with his arms folded, and Jose sat in the space between them with legos in his hands.

All three of them knew they were trouble, they just didn't know how much trouble they were in.

"Bobby's a shithead," Jose whispered.

(Y/N)'s eyes widened, "that's a bad word!" She looked over at Mr. Macks who continued to read to the class, "you're gonna get in more trouble!"

"Are you gonna tell on me?"

"No." He gave her a nod, "good."

"Okay if I don't tell on you, you can't tell on me."

"Why would I tell on you?"

She looked at Bobby, "because he's not a shithead, he's an asshole."

They stared at each other for a moment before bursting into giggles, their hands quickly covering their mouths. However, this caught the attention of Bobby, who glared at the pair, "you're not allowed to talk."

"You're not allowed to talk," mocked Jose, "shut up, asshole."

(Y/N) giggled and looked over at Bobby's face, "yeah, shut your face shithead."

"Your mama played you when she put that big ass bow on your head," (Y/N) turned around and was met with a smirk, "Lyla teased you the whole day."

Jose 'Sad Eyes' Guzman.

No longer the boy in the picture, but a man.

"I had a sore head and she got a bleeding nose," responded (Y/N) with a shrug.

Before he could reply, (Y/N) was called back over to her booth. A line had formed and those waiting were getting antsy. She gave her old friend a smile and then dashed back to where she was stationed. Quickly checking over the prizes and helping those in front of her choose what they wanted. When (Y/N) had been offered a job at her old elementary, she immediately packed up her life in San Diego and moved back to Freeridge. Despite San Diego being her home all throughout college and two years post graduation, Freeridge would always hold a special place in her heart. Upon returning she had moved into an apartment a few blocks away from the school and also her parents home. Moving back felt different, but a good kind of different. She was surprised that the interaction with Sad Eyes (she was unsure if she had a right to call him by his government name) wasn't awkward, considering the way their last interaction had ended. But, (Y/N) concluded that they had both grown since then.

Exchanging tokens for prizes, chatting with some more parents (mostly discussing their child/ren's progress) and grabbing more prizes from behind the stage was beginning to take a toll on the woman. Thankfully, the fair was almost over - just another hour or so, before the staff and parent helpers would pack everything up. With the prize booth looking a bit empty, she decided to take a walk.

"I'll be back to help pack up," she told Lyall and smirked when his focus was on Kira, talking to a group of her students, "ask her out."

He gave her an eye roll, "get outta here." With a laugh, she moved in front of the booth and walked out of the hall. A bouncy castle on the front field caught her attention, but she stayed away from it when she noticed the clown printed on the front. She followed the smell of (food) which brought her to the junior courtyard of the school. Buying herself two and a (drink), she sat herself down at an empty table. She ate and drank, enjoying the somewhat peaceful atmosphere. Her eyes scanned her surroundings and just happened to land on Sad Eyes. She stood up when she noticed he was cradling his hand in the other. Catalina, his sister, walking beside him. She threw her rubbish away and walked up to them.

"What happened?"

He shook his head, "nothing, I'm fine."

Catalina scoffed, "dumbass punched the button for Oso to be dunked and now it's most likely bruised," she then smiled at (Y/N), "lookin' good, chica." She then nudged her brother, "tell her she looks good, idiota."

Laughing, (Y/N) shook her head, "thanks, Lina, I'll take it from here." She was met with a smile and nod, before the young woman walked off. (Y/N) gestured for him to follow her. They walked into the front office and made a right turn into the sick bay. (Y/N) had him sit on one of the bunks. Gently taking his hand into hers, she looked it over, "it's not swelling up, so it doesn't appear that anything's broken, probably bruised like Lina said." She turned around and grabbed an ice-pack from the refrigerator, wrapping it in a towel and placed it on the hand, "here you go."

He smiled at her, "thanks bubs."

The sound of her old nickname mixed with the situation at hand, caused a reminiscent wave to wash over her.

"I guess it's official," (Y/N) gently placed the cloth wrapped ice-pack on Jose's shoulder, "congrats, how do you feel?"

Gently laying back on the couch, he winced as another ice-pack was placed on his stomach, "siento que me voy a desmayer." "

"Jose."

He laughed, but quickly stopped, "mierda!" (Y/N) handed over the ibuprofen and a cup of water. Gulping it down quickly, he handed the empty cup back, "I was kidding."

She snatched the cup and put it on the coffee table, "better be… but you feel any different?"

"I guess the only difference is that I know my Ma and Lina will be taken care of if anything happens to me."

(Y/N) flicked his forehead, "don't say shit like that," smirking she looked at him, "Mama G's gonna kick your ass."

"She's gonna kick both our asses," he looked at her, "I got jumped in and you skipped a day," a smirk appeared on his face, "not a good look on your college application, Miss (L/N)." "

"Shut up."

He reached out and squeezed her hand, "kidding, bubs, you'll be accepted in whatever college you want."

"You think so?"

"With your grades, extra curricular activities and the recommendation letters you're gonna get? Kind of hard not too," he replied, "but, you've got time until the application process."

She nodded, "yeah," shifting on the couch, she smiled, "so, have you got a street name?"

"Yeah."

Looking at him expectantly, "well, what is it?"

"Sad Eyes."

(Y/N) gave him a smile, "no worries, Sad Eyes."

He sighed, "Sad Eyes?"

"It's your name," she pointed out and gently removed her hand from his, "you can stay in here, but I've gotta help with the pack up." Just as she stepped back, he got to his feet, "Sad Eyes just –"

"Jose, (Y/N)," he cut her off, "okay? Not Sad Eyes."

"Everyone else calls –"

"You're not everyone else, bubs." His eyes locked with the (colour) orbs, he was familiar with, "when it comes to you, I'm Jose."

"Alright, then, Jose," she laughed when he gave her a goofy grin, "you staying here or what?"

He walked through the door, "let's pack some shit up."

She followed after him. The junior courtyard was filled with parents and teachers alike packing up the tables and chairs. They made small talk along the way. Entering through the side doors, she hurried over to help Lyall take down the leftover prizes and place them into boxes. Anything that was in good condition would be kept for next year's fun fair. Kira carried the boxes onto the stage. (Y/N) took over sweeping the hall with Rachel because David and Connor were using the brooms as swords. Jose tried to help, but (Y/N) didn't want him to injure his hand even more. Her coworkers didn't seem bothered with having a Santos member in close proximity. Once everything was cleaned and packed away, Kira and Lyall made their way to the staffroom where a lunch was held to say thank you to the staff and parents for their help.

(Y/N) decided to opt out of the lunch, when Connor, David and Kira joined the pair and asked if she was coming along. Parent-Teacher conferences were coming up soon and she wanted to make sure her classroom was all set up for it. As it was her first official year teaching (after graduation she worked as a learning support member to gain a bit more experience 'cause she felt she needed to do more groundwork) she wanted to make sure it was presentable.

"It doesn't look like anything's changed," commented Jose, as he followed (Y/N) into their old second-grade classroom, and put his ice-pack on her desk.

She laughed, "yeah, just a few things to keep up with the new generation," she walked over to the reading nook, "remember this?"

This time he laughed, "how could I forget? Bobby was and still is an asshole and a shithead," he shook his head, "can't believe Mrs Robin made us write him apology letters, even when he was the one who started the whole fight."

"He was her favourite," replied (Y/N), as she rearranged a few books, "but, I didn't mind 'cause I made a new friend that day."

A silence fell between the duo, but she didn't think anything of it. She moved through the classroom straightening up things as she passed by. Jose watched her and couldn't help but smile. He couldn't deny that he missed her when she moved away for college. Being involved with the gang allowed him to be a part of a brotherhood and he was so caught up in it that he didn't recognise that he was pushing her away.

Until it was too late.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N)."

She immediately stopped what she was doing and turned around, "what?" Realising what he was apologising for, she shook her head, "Jose it's fine. It was years ago."

"That doesn't make it okay," he replied, "if I could go back and fix everything, I would."

(Y/N) stuffed her hands into the pockets of her jacket, staring at the Santos party across the street. She watched as the party-goers laughed and danced to the music. Her heart sank at the sight of Jose with his arm wrapped around a girl. Spooky noticed her and shouted, "(Y/N)!" With the call of her name, Jose looked up. He quickly got up from where he was and walked to where she stood, a bright smile on his face.

"Are you gonna stand there or come and join the party?" he laughed.

She bit her bottom lip, "no… I just – uh, Lina told me where you would be," her eyes drifted over to the party and then back to him, "after we waited for an hour for you to show up."

His eyebrows furrowed, "show up for what?"

"My birthday dinner," (Y/N) explained, "just finished actually, the celebratory mood kinda died when Lina let it slip that Spooky was also throwing a party," she kicked at the curb, "not a surprise that your priorities have changed, but it doesn't mean it hurts any less."

"(Y/N) I –"

"I get it. But, it wasn't just a birthday dinner you missed. It was the fact that I announced that I'm graduating," she blinked back the tears, "at the top of my class. And, I wanted to make sure everyone that helped me along the way knew how much they meant to me, you know? It fucking sucked 'cause the one who has always supported my venture outside of Freeridge promised they'd never switch up… and then switched up."

Jose moved to hug her, but she held up her hands. He watched as she wiped her eyes and looked at him with her (colour) eyes. The (colour) eyes that always allowed him to know what she was feeling, when the words didn't leave her mouth.

"(Y/N) –"

"Whatever, enjoy the rest of your night, Sad Eyes."

And with that, she walked off.

"Unfortunately, time travel hasn't been invented yet, so you can't go back. But, that's okay." She stepped towards him, "I wouldn't want you too. I'm sorry as well. For ignoring all of your calls. If I could go back, I would pick up every single one and answer." She wrapped her arms around him, "I missed you, Jose."

He kissed her head, "I missed you too, (Y/N).

They held each other close. Jose rubbed his hands up and down her back, loving the feeling of having her back in his arms. (Y/N) breathed in his scent and squeezed him tighter. She listened to the rhythmn of his heart, before stepping back to look at him. He smiled at her, hands still caressing her back.

All of a sudden the atmosphere shifted.

His hands wandered down to her waist giving it a gentle squeeze, while hers gently gripped his arms. Slowly, their faces inched towards each other until their lips touched. Jose trailed up a hand to the back of her head to deepen the kiss, (Y/N) happily accepted it, hands moving to wrap around his neck.

"Been wanting to do that since you punched Bobby in the face," he commented once they broke apart.

"That's interesting, 'cause I've wanted to do that since you poured the bucket of legos over his head."

Jose kissed her nose, forehead touching hers, "gotta be some full circle kinda shit, querida."

"Yeah, it's gotta be," (Y/N) replied and pulled him back in for a kiss.

- ♤ - ♡ - ◇ - ♧ -

Spanish Translation(s):

Chica - girl

Idiota - idiot

Siento que me voy a desmayer - I feel like I'm going to pass out

Mierda - shit

Querida - honey

#sad eyes #sad eyes guzman #sad eyes x reader #sad eyes guzman x reader #x reader #reader insert #onmyblock #onmyblockfanfiction #los santos #freeridge #sincerelyasomebody

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thewatermelloncat · 4 years ago

Text

Written Notes

Summary: Inspired from the prompt given to me by Anonymous:

Okay, so, Allison usually does most of the care taking. How about a flip on that? Allison gets a cold and her siblings take care of her.

Author’s Note: I’m sorry this took me so long to write. I got stuck about halfway through but now I’m happy with where the story went.

Warnings: None

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Weakness isn’t in the Umbrella Academy’s vocabulary. From the moment they were each adopted there was no sympathy for anything. Their mother as a robot cared for them but she was incapable of that emotion. Pogo as their father’s assistant and master of the house was confusing, he too cared for the children but if there was any sympathy, he wouldn’t act on it. As for their father – forget about it.

Trainings had their fair share of bumps and bruises, missions even more so. Though there was never anything a few stitches and a bandage couldn’t solve. As soon as they were patched up, they went straight back to it.

Sickness still made its rounds but it was kept under wraps. It was a little backwards how training with bumps and brushes made you stronger after you had shown weakness in getting hurt. Where training whilst sick showed weakness because you had allowed a foreign presence into your system when your strength had failed.

Their father as a scientist should know that this was unavoidable, yet he never acknowledged it. It was always the children’s fault for getting sick.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Gone is Allison’s usual smile and bright eyes as the family sits around the breakfast table. Throughout the allotted mealtime she had barley touched her food, merely pushing it around her plate to make it look like she ate more. With it being forbidden to talk no one had the chance to ask her what was wrong before they had sat down, but it is fairly obvious that she is sick. Pale skin and slumped posture are clear giveaways.

She swallows painfully at their father’s call to stand, pushing her chair out at the same time as her siblings.

“Training will commence in an hour” he announces as usual. Though unusually instead of leaving afterward, he turns to her. “Number Three, I expect your appearance to be fixed beforehand. Dishevelry is not tolerated here.”

Sheepishly she looks down at the tangled ends of her hair. She’d overslept and hadn’t had time to brush it properly before coming down to breakfast.

Thankfully her father says no more and stalks out of the room. The siblings all wait a few moments out of respect they don’t have for him before they too step out from in front of their chairs, push them in and exit the room.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Stupid question but how are you feeling?” Luther asks as they file into Allison’s room. They don’t normally hang out together before training but her siblings had all followed her from the dinning room and she hadn’t questioned it.

She shakes her head as she sits herself on her bed, not bothering to groan in discomfort and risk a searing pain in her throat.

“We should tell mum” Diego suggests as Klaus grabs Allison’s hairbrush from her dresser and hops up behind her on the bed.

She swallows painfully ready herself to speak. “No, she’ll” – her voice cracks from the few words she spoke and Ben cuts her off.

“Save your voice for training” he advises, handing her a notebook and a pen from the desk.

She nods, taking them from him and beginning to write.

She’ll tell dad.

As she holds the notebook out to them, she looks up to see Five and Vanya whispering to one another, heads leant in close. They step apart and Five offers his hand out to Vanya but she flinches, moving her arm away from it and stepping further back. He shrugs seeming unfased and blinks out of the room before Vanya leaves out the door.

“Could be laryngitis” Luther’s suggestion draws her attention back to the conversation. Part of her kind of hopes it is, at least it would make the pain in her throat a little more worthwhile.

“I don’t know” Ben says. “Does she have a fever?”

Suddenly Diego’s hand is at her face and she leans away from it on instinct, ignoring Klaus’ yelp of protest when the plait he was working on in her hair gets messed up.

Diego fixes her with an apologetic look for surprising her and reaches forward again now that she is prepared for contact. All the while Klaus mumbles to himself about having to start on her hair again.

“Bit warmer than normal” Diego relays a puzzled look on his face which is reflected by the rest of the siblings around him.

“Maybe we should tell mum. Get her to check” Luther says.

Allison goes to shake her head but stops herself last minute remembering Klaus plaiting her hair behind her. Instead she quickly picks up the notebook.

She scribbles out and shows them before any of them can leave the room. They all look at her with varying looks of disagreement but Five blinks back in the room before they can verbalise it.

“Mum’s in the medical wing. Couldn’t get any pain relief.”

“I’ve got a stash in the left draw of my desk” Klaus says casually like it is an everyday thing to mention.

Five opens his mouth then closes it again as a range of emotions cross his face. “I would lecture you on this but seeing as we are now in your debt, I’m going to leave it for now” he says finally before blinking out of the room again.

The next time he appears Vanya walks through the door with him, carrying a steaming mug in her hands.

“It’s only lemon with a bit of honey. Nothing special” she tells Allison as she hands the mug over to her.

Allison purses her lips in a smile, letting her know that she is touched by the gesture nonetheless, before taking a sip. The flow of liquid hurts as it rushes down her throat but the heat relaxes the muscles as they contract. She puts the cup down on the bedside cabinet when Five throws a box of pain killers onto her lap.

After popping one out of the pack and swallowing it with a swig of tea, she audibly winces in pain and swallows hard to keep from coughing.

“Keep drinking it” Luther gestures to the tea, reading the look of pain on her face.

“How is she going to train if she doesn’t have a voice?” Klaus asks, lowering the last of the two plaits he had been working on down in front of Allison’s shoulder.

Around the room a silence falls, not because Klaus had asked and logical question but because none of them knew the answer.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Their father had been particularly hard on their individual training throughout the week. So, when Allison had gone to bed the night before with a sore throat, she thought nothing of it. Overtraining sometimes did that to her and she could always manage it, so it was no big deal.

Means to say she didn’t appreciate waking up in the morning not just late but with the ache in her throat multiplied tenfold. Especially when she knew that it was the day that they had to perform their individual training in front of their other siblings.

One thing she is lucky for is that she knows her brothers won’t hold it against her if her voice runs out. Though the same cannot be said for her father.

So far, they’d seen Luther show them what he had been working on. Watching him leap from bannister to banister across the foyer, far too graceful for someone of his strength. Next to her Allison could sense Diego hoping that he would stumble or fall, but he never did.

The whizzing of knives had punched through the air as they sailed past the group before sinking themselves into various targets around the room. Sometimes the group had to lean back on instinct as the knives chaotically curved around them, though none of them ever come close to hitting them.

Though now, it is the time that she had been dreading. She chews at the inside of her cheek nervously as Diego steps back into his place in the line. Next to her she feels Klaus quickly squeeze a hand around her wrist when she steps forward. With the grip let go, she continues to the centre of the foyer where her father is waiting for her.

She tunes out what instructions he tells her, her nervous heartbeat too loud in her ears. Though she knows what to do regardless, her eyes flicking up to Pogo as he moves toward the two of them. All going to plan she will have to rumour him into tapping his walking stick on the ground three times before rumouring him again to hold the walking stick in both hands.

Her siblings had always joked with her about making someone do something stupid like hop around on one foot or make them only able to speak backwards for an hour, but their father would never allow silliness like that to be a source of training or to occur at all for that matter.

Suddenly Allison becomes aware of her father stopping speaking. Swallowing convulsively, she prepares herself to speak.

“I heard a rumour that you” – if she’s honest her voice was clearer than she had thought it would be, but that doesn’t stop her father from interrupting her.

“Speak clearly” he barks.

“I h-heard a rumour…” her voice stutters before it dies in her throat.

“Again!”

“I heard a rumour that” – she cuts herself off at her voice continuing to crack.

“Announciate, Number Three” her father commands, taking extra care to pronounce the word as if he is mocking her.

“I can’t” she explains with her voice no louder than a whisper and her posture cowering beneath him.

“You were born with a voice box, yes?” he stares down at her. “Therefore, you must be able to speak.”

Allison says nothing, trying to steady her breaths to keep from crying in front of her father. When she’s settled enough, she opens her mouth to speak but Diego cuts in before her.

“S-she ca-an’t… she’s s-sick” her heart twists listening to him stutter as he tries to defend her.

“Repeat yourself Number Two” their father demands knowing that he won’t be able to clearly.

“He said, she can’t. She’s sick” Five speaks clearly for him through tightly gritted teeth. The amount of bite to his words is shocking and Allison looks at him begging him to back down. The only sign that he sees her look is the quick flick of his eyes to hers before he averts them to glare back at their father, though he says nothing more.

“I will not have this disruption in amidst training!” their father demands before turning back toward Allison. “Until you see fit to co-operate Number Three, you are dismissed.”

His cold words sting in a way that Allison can’t yet explain and she can do nothing to stop the tears falling from her eyes as she walks away.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“What happened?” a quiet voice catches Allison’s attention as she walks past Vanya’s room, seeing her sister standing in the doorway.

Allison moves her mouth to speak but closes it, both in knowing that her voice will fail her and not finding the right words.

Vanya shakes her head to stop her from trying to speak, seeming to be able to read her mind and noticing the tears falling from her eyes. Wordlessly she steps forward into the hallway and takes Allison by the arm, accompanying her back to her room.

“I heard a lot of yelling” Vanya says as they step through Allison’s doorway.

For now, Allison only nods her head as Vanya passes her the notebook that had been left on the desk.

My voice didn’t work. Dad got angry.

She writes then shows to her.

“That’s hardly your fault” Vanya’s face twists in a sympathetic frown.

Allison shrugs not bothering to touch the pen back to the page, she knows the message will get across. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t her fault.

“Did he send you back?” Vanya asks.

Allison nods as she writes.

Said that I was dismissed until I ‘see fit to co-operate.’

“That’s…” Vanya stops short, not knowing what to say. It isn’t until she notices Allison is crying again that she finds the words to speak. “Hey, hey” she breathes as she crouches down and places her hands on her sister’s shoulders. “None of this is your fault.”

She didn’t know much about her siblings’ relationship with their father despite living under the same roof as them, but from what she could gather it wasn’t any better than her own.

“Let’s look at it this way” she comforts her. “He sent you back from training so you might as well use the time to get some rest, yeah?”

Allison sniffles thickly and wipes the tears from her eyes, finding sense in that. Even if she didn’t, she wouldn’t argue with the idea of getting some sleep.

At the nod from her sister Vanya lets go of her shoulders and lets Allison climb into her bed. When she lifts the covers the notebook slides off onto the floor and Vanya picks it up. As she is about to place it back on the desk a flash of movement catches her eye and she turns back to see Allison holding her hand out for it.

Obliging to her sister’s wishes she steps forward and places it into her hand, waiting as she scribbles something onto a page. When the notebook is flipped around, she doesn’t stop a small smile from spreading across her face at the written note.

Thank you.

#tua #umbrella academy #umbrella academy fanfiction #allison hargreeves #the rumour #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #five hargreeves #ben hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #reginald hargreeves #sickfic #whump

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k347 · 4 years ago

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A little note for all the wonderful people who are taking a moment out of their precious time to visit this little online space I created...

(I felt the need to write this because of some 'not so great' anon asks I've been getting ever since I started here and also because I've witnessed several of both, the good and bad fandom meltdowns in these couple of years)

From My Heart To Yours-

If it isn't clear to you by the kind of things I post or if you are new to this page, let me clarify it in one single sentence. This Is A Stucky+Evanstan Blog. There will always be mostly (if not all) evanstan and stucky content posted here. If you are uncomfortable with the ship, feel free to filter the 'evanstan' / 'rpf'/ stucky tags. I completely understand why it can be bothersome, icky for people, why some of you might disapprove of it. I acknowledge, respect and understand your views, feelings and opinions, I truly do. All I am asking out of you is to not be disrespectful, dissmissive about those of mine. Please understand that you don't have to see the things/content you don't want to on your dash. The block and unfollow buttons, options for filtering tags are there for a reason. Feel free to use them if you are uncomfortable with a blog or person (including me). It'll be taking the high road and bowing out gracefully if you make a habit of using these available options instead of passing around judgements and unnecessarily cruel critisism about people whom you've never even met/ know nothing about.

Personally I adore both of these Fandom Ships. I have for a long time. But it doesn't mean I don't support you if you love/are a part of some other fandom. I don't mean to disrespect or hinder any of the other ships even if they are regarding these same characters. I try and make sure to not intrude on anyone's creative space and expect that the same attitude & decency will be returned.

This blog is my way of letting out, expressing all that love, adoration I feel. I strive to be more creative with my thoughts, my way of expression as a person with each passing day. And being a part of this fandom helps me immensely with that. I've met some amazing people online because of this. Made good friends. It is a very dear thing to me. I have talked to folks who've experienced online hate from unreasonable, anonymous sources, I've also experienced a fair share of it myself. As someone who is a psychology-enthusiast-&-student-for-life, I can assure you the (good/casual/neutral/bad/hateful) things you say to or about people leave their impacts. Not just on them, but on you too. It might seem insignificant or small, irrelevant even; but it does change the way your thoughts work in daily life. Be careful and stop before you train your mind to naturally focus more on the bad things about other people rather than the good ones. So again, I kindly request you to not be mean or hurtful to anyone you meet online (or even in real life, actually.) Offering disrespect and negativity never made anything better in the history of ever.

Lastly I would like to give my two cents about another issue (that I feel can get really toxic if we are not careful) with the fandom culture. I have made no secret of the fact that I am a fan of Sebastian Stan and Chris Evans. Yes, I have and will always post a lot of appreciation posts about them (solo and together), their works and projects, some old tbt moments. You will even find imagines, headcanons, theories, fanfics about them along with the ones about the fictional characters they have played/continue to play.

But that doesn't mean I am going to act delusionally and ignore/ unacknowledge the fact that both of them are their own person. Two actual, real human beings. I don't mean to project any of this content that I am creating on them and their lives. Making anybody uncomfortable is not my intention behind doing this, not at all. I prefer to look at it this way- "This is a world that I've created in my own mind. For fun and entertainment. Sort of like an AU. Parallel Timeline. But please understand that the stories, theories, things I'll post and write on here are pure conjecture, a lot of speculations. Hypothesis and supposition. I don't want to lose the grasp on reality and be drawned in it too much or completely, up to the point at which violation of real people's boundaries starts to become a usual routine and doesn't feel wrong."

I do not agree with the mentality of blaming, hating on people/past partners in their lives for no other apparent reason than the fact that 'they know my favs'. I completely agree that there are actions and things which people need to be held accountable for at times. Yes, you can talk about it with me but please try and remain respectful (if not that, at least be decent enough) toward all the parties involved.

Even though we as fans have invested a lot of our time, creative efforts and emotions in these two men; It does not mean they owe us, or need to explain every part of their personal/professional lives.

Please remember and don't let it be hard for you to accept the fact that these two people are not the exact fanfic versions of themselves that you read about on tumblr, they are not some experminted and perfected, flawless personalities that you've created in your own minds. It is possible for humans to mess up at times. It is only natural. Don't judge people based only on their worst mistakes, or more precisely the negative stuff you read 'online' (which 9/10 times is pure speculation and made up. fake. not facts.) Chris and Seb do not need to cater to every whim and need of the fans, they do not need to make decisions based on what people feel about them online. They can and should do whatever they want to with their lives without having to experience judgement and public scrutiny about every little step taken. Please stop putting celebrities on a pedestal and measuring them up to some impossible, unrealistic standards. If you feel too much devastation, hurt over some action of your 'fav', my advice would be to take a step back. Relax. Distance yourself from the Fandom for a bit. Do not let the 'stanning' consume you, your behaviour, rational thought process and most importantly don't let it ruin your kindness.

I love the analogy that there lives a good and a bad wolf inside every human being. Your reactions, response to things, all of it depends on which wolf you decide to feed and empower at the given moment. Choose kindness. Choose gentler responses. Choose Love over Hatred. Always.

I think the lovely @musette22 (who btw, is one of the most compassionate, talented and creative people I've met here, because of our shared love for these boys 💙) voiced this thing better than I ever could.

My apologies, if the note got too long and too deep for your liking.

I promise I am not always this boring and 'let-me-lecture-you' kind of a person 😂

On this Blog you'll also find-

A lot of silly Ramblings, Scribbles and Rants

Lot of terrible jokes and puns (you know the kind where they are so bad that they're good😅)

Fluff and smut

Q and A with the anons.

AUs

Speculations, ideas and a lot of gushing

Reblogs from all these great, talented, amazing people in the fandom

A lot of 'Marvel' things

Incorrectly placed correct quotes

Sometimes extreme use of emoticons and gifs

😂♥️😄🔥😜👻💌💦💪😇🤷

Running commentary, discussions about newly released information, keeping tracks, meltdowns, breakdowns, again rambling! , ocassional full doses of sarcasm

Sometimes going 'too much in detail' 😉

My attempts at writing stuff

A lot of content for Evanstan and Stucky

Drawing parallels, a lot of 'connecting the dots' between Chris and Seb content. Weaving the pieces of informations together.

Headcanons and stories inspired from that.

Low key, actually at times very very high key roasting of Endgame.

Lots and lots of love + appreciation showered on the movies in Captain America Triology.

Getting nostalgic and adoring the good old memories, Celebrating the present moments and Wishing for many more happy ones in the future.

All of you are very welcome here!

My ask box is always open for anyone and everyone who is interested. Send asks, questions, prompts, requests, suggetions, your ideas, theories anytime you want.

I am always up for conversations and discussions.

Lots of Love,

@k347

💙

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cozy-possum · 4 years ago

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How I Became Yours: Prologue

Summary: A re-write of the classic How I Became Yours, Zutara comic

This can also be read over at my Ao3 account

The war is over. The war is over. You can rest. You can rest. Aang sighs draping himself against the bench he’d found outside of the council meeting. He tries to brush off Roku and the rest of the avatars humming in his head.

Aang, you need rest. Rest. The war is over. Aang swats out with his hand trying to shove his past lives from the room but ends up smacking Zuko in the face.

Aang “You need rest.”

“Zuko..” Aang looks horrified; he knows he’d hit the scar, the way the skin under it had felt, almost like dragon scales.

“Stop waxing poetic about it; I can hear you thinking.” Zuko laughs a little, a small chuckle and Aang looks nervous but releases the breath he was holding.

“We have a lot to do.”

“Yes; for the moment we all need to be together; to plan our next moves; to pull my nation’s ruling back to its own shores.”

“So you’re saying we’re all going on a trip around the nations? Like old times.”

“It was two weeks ago Aang.” Zuko’s face is back to his usual neutral expression, the faintest hint of a smile on his face.

“Yes; we do need to; mostly the Earth kingdom; Agni knows my people have destroyed much of it.”

“The water tribes?”

“Later; they; the North was able to resist us, Katara and Sokka would be better suited as go betweens.” Zuko gestures to them as they walk up, Toph following with Iroh who drags them all back from the council meetings to the garden for tea.

“Not the Avatar?” Aang looks a little hurt and resigns himself to quietly sip his tea.

“You and Toph need to help the Earth Nations that were devastated by mine. Suki would also be a good ally to have; anyone who knows Earth kingdom traditions, and anyone who can soften the blow of what’s to come.”

“What’s to come?” Sokka furrows his brow.

“The lies and manipulation in Ba Sing Se need to be destroyed if we want to rebuild peace.” Zuko states drawing his gaze to his Uncle who narrows his eyes back at him.

“While I’ll be your council I am not one to rebuild a city I tried to lay siege to.”

“I’m not asking that; I’m simply reminding you how traditional tea brewing is vital to Ba Sing Se; there’s a tea shop that needs it’s owner back.

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”I kissed Katara” Aang’s nervous about leaving; Zuko can tell just from how he shifts on his feet, let alone the fact Aang is giving him a recount of the only two days that had passed while they hadn’t been constantly together in the palace.

“Did you like it?” Zuko shrugs a little curling inward unsure of how Aang wants him to react.

“No; it was like kissing you.” Aang laughs; Zuko knows he must have looked offended.

“Sorry; I’m sure you’re a wonderful kisser; but it wasn’t anything I thought it was; we’re friends, we’re meant to be that way I think...” Aang chuckles to himself and Zuko shakes his head fondly.

“I’m wounded, Avatar Aang; I thought us two were meant to be together!! Two halves of the same whole; two nations able to restore peace!” Zuko offers a half smile and a wink; throwing his arms up and dramatically twisting around in front of the ornate mirror in his bedroom. He can hear Sokka laughing and he tenses up; knowing that if Sokka is around not only will Katara be but so will his advisors. He wonders how relieved they’re feeling to be leaving the Firelord's den. Zuko had asked Sokka and Hakoda to step in on advising; besides his Uncle’s council he wasn’t sure how trustworthy many of the generals' words were. His lingering suspicion of them from before the war made him uncertain; he never knew if they would advise something to unheedingly sacrifice more lives to make him look bad. With the war over they didn’t have to worry much about fights or keeping control of colonies; but Zuko was most concerned about releasing the varying prisoners and some of the towns that were being destroyed under the Fire Nations rule right away.

He knew there was a long way to go but with everyone having discussed plans and the smaller changes he’d already been able to make he knew it wouldn’t be long before they would all see each other again.

With Toph and Aang agreeing to work with the Earth king, and Katara and Sokka agreeing to work with their father to bridge the north and south tribes; Zuko relaxes a little. Enough to assure his Uncle that he can return to running the Jasmine Dragon. Iroh seems reluctant to leave but Zuko refuses to let him stay, even threatening him with making all of his tea. Iroh rebuttals he’d happily put up with it if it meant being near him and Zuko shakes his head reassuring him that he’ll be visiting as often as he can.

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Aang writes letters every week; at first Zuko had gotten swarmed with three days worth of mail, small half scribbled updates of everything Aang and Toph were doing; the poor messenger hawks he’d given them were exhausted; and after a refueling and two day rest did he respond, in one multi-page letter, requesting they do the same; if not to spare the poor hawks, to spare his servants from thinking something was wrong if the Avatar was sending in seventeen letters a day.

Aang responds later that week two tubes on the messenger hawk’s back detailing everything that had been happening that week; which was to say Appa had eaten at least five new fruits, and that Momo stole someone’s hat. That Toph was improving her sandbending, using it to clean up towns that the Fire Nation had tried to dam and redirect rivers from. She’d also been working on her metal bending, all of the factory pieces and parts that the Fire Nation wasn’t bothered with retrieving was giving her plenty of practice with sculpting tools and other items for the villages and towns to trade and use in rebuilding.

They’d met up with Suki and Sokka, who were travelling to the north pole with Katara, although Katara had trailed behind checking up on a river town they’d helped before.

Zuko knows it’s silly but he writes each of them letters; well he tries; he combines Aang’s and Toph’s as they’re travelling together, as well as Sokka and Suki’s; they’re a couple anyways is how he justifies it. Which means he has to write a letter just to Katara, it's a good excuse for the first few letters which cover at least three months of travel. He doesn’t blame anyone; he’d been swamped with his Firelord duties as well as trying to rekindle his relationship with Mai, something he was nervous about, now that he was the firelord, and he’d abandoned her to his sister, he’s not sure how she’ll feel about him. By the time he figures out she forgives him; that she’s more than happy to be by his side, although she hates the meetings and council members that drag him away; their false pretenses of peace and caring for the firelord annoy her; she discusses this with Zuko more than often and he’ll laugh it off, assuring her no one but her knows the best ways to take care of him. He’s not sure why he dreams of a soft blue light and a cool touch that night.

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Mai always laughs when he reads Aang and Toph’s letters aloud. They’ve moved on from the earth kingdom villages; they’re working at restoring some parts of the air temples and improving the structures that hold them upright. Which means Toph is flying most of the time to reach them and Aang details her reactions to returning to the earth. This usually involves her covering herself in a layer of rocks and then letting Aang use them as target practice for his air or firebending. Toph notes he’s gotten better at his control; she’s able to make nail sized pieces of rock that he can hit and splinter without damage to anything around it and only a few misses compared to the disaster he’d used to be when it came to targets. Sometimes they’ll do it while they’re flying, an excuse for practice they both know they don’t really need anymore with the war finished. It’s a good distraction for Toph, while her dislike of flying never changes, having earth to focus on helps .Aang comments in the letters that she’ll often warp the meteorite bracelet when she gets nervous which is usually whenever they’re flying. While the restorations are underway; increasing the structural integrity is a slow delicate progres that calls for carefully fortifying the pillars and rock structures from the inside; Toph has developed a side project. Her quest to create Toph statue’s in every place they visit. So far they’ve been small palm sized sculptures of her, as she didn’t want to bother the townsfolk or scare any of the wildlife. Since the air temples are uninhabited by humans for now Aang assured her she could make them bigger; they’d visited each temple deciding that the Western one was in need of the most repair and help. Moving the debris and damage that was caused from combustion man was a surprisingly easy task; most of the pillars were scattered around the temple and very little of it had fallen from the cliff face below. Aang knows the restoration isn’t as simple as that; that Toph can really only help with the structural things; that the artwork and murals might not be things she can construct; he wonders if he’ll be able to find everything to mix the paint with.

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He grows to enjoy Suki’s updates, matter of fact reports that hold very little personal information. Just details about the towns they visited and rankings and tallies of which ones appear to need the most help. Which towns need which supplies. Areas that need the fire nation troops to stay; their influence part of the economic growth and removal could cause worse devastation than leaving them. He’ll often interspersing these reports with Sokka’s humour. Trying to avoid the overwhelming darkness that his family has caused dragging him down. Most of Sokka’s attempts at humor were jokes that reminded him of Uncle and Zuko would try to return the joke with one of his own; or borrow yet another half remembered joke from Iroh. Sokka also includes a string of training and sparring ideas for both of them; they’d been trading tips and tricks after both finding out they’d studied under Master Piandao, Sokka offering moves he would use his boomerang for or fighting moves he’d seen earthbenders repeat. Zuko offered firebending stances and the meditation he would use; as well as the training he’d use for his broad swords. Sometimes he would find Suki’s handwriting in the margins, adding tips from her use of fans or noting some things Sokka was saying were things she had taught him. Both Sokka and Suki were enjoying the weather, the clear skies and fresh air proving to be good for training and practicing sparring with their weapons of choice. Sokka also includes drawings of what Zuko assumes are the animal’s or scenery they’ve been seeing. It was mostly various hills and the occasional house; but he’s tried to draw what Zuko guesses is a gilacorn.

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Katara are his favourite updates; he claims it's due to her discussions as a budding diplomat, as well as the doodles of waterbending forms she includes; things he can relate to being the firelord and moves he can try to incorporate into his fire bending when he spars. He explains to her that the palace staff is slowly warming up to him; they’re less stiff and he’d even managed to avoid a reaction of terror when he called one of the older chefs by name. He tells her that the turtle ducks have returned to the pond, not that they ever left but they had been hibernating and he includes a crude drawing of a turtleducking with a note in case she’s never seen one. He sends a second letter scrambling after he’d sent the first one; realizing that she’d spent plenty of time around the pond, practicing her waterbending. Mai rolls her eyes lovingly as he grumbles about the mistake of sending the letter too early and making a mistake; she laughs a little, chiding him about using the royal scribes.

Katara writes back almost instantly, the turtleduck drawing he’d done is included, but there’s another one beside it, obviously drawn by her, Zuko keeps it folded in his robes to laugh at. Her drawing is almost real life, his is a little more impressive than Sokka’s. A doodle he gets weeks later, Katara having no doubt shown him Zuko’s attempt. Her actual letter is just as impressive, Zuko’s a little amazed Hakoda hasn’t named her chief successor; and then he’s panic stricken that he doesn’t actually know any watertribe customs. He resolves to brush up on their traditions when they meet next. She is slowly working on teaching some of the northern waterbenders the other styles of water bending, mostly the bending of water in plants; while they’re surrounded by snow and ice she worries one day they won’t and she’d never want any of them to feel cut off from their bending.

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He doesn’t receive letters for another few months; then it becomes a solid year. He finds out when a swarm of messenger hawks show up that the birds had been through a storm and had gotten turned around twice before finding their way back to the original senders, and once they’d been refed, they’d made their way to him.

He replies to each letter individually; it takes him three days to get through them all; and before Mai can drag him to bed, he’s offered a meal and a seat in the Council for the weekly meeting they have. He gets through the meeting and falls asleep the minute he curls under the tree by the turtleduck pond.

The letters continue for the next two years; a comforting back and forth habit for all of them to keep in touch. It doesn’t replace actually seeing them; and while he has Mai most of the servants and palace staff still avoid him in a social context. The letters stop for a full week. Zuko asks some of his staff to be on the lookout for the messenger hawks.

They bring him one a day later; he pulls an invitation out; obviously done by Hakoda, but the doodle signature is Sokka’s, he grins, laughing a little but responds immediately.

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Hakoda is bringing everyone back together in Ba Sing Se for Sokka and Katara's announcement as councilpersons for the water tribes. He also includes a note about the celebration of Aang's achievement in the complete restoration in the Western Air Temple. Sokka has added a note about it being Katara’s birthday as well, and that Zuko will need to get her a present. This information brings the resurgence in his lack of knowledge about water tribe customs. He knows a few earth kingdom ones but assumes those don't translate and he resists the urge to send a frantic letter to Sokka or even their father and settles for researching everything in the library and asking any of the palace staff to inquire about water tribe customs for an eighteenth birthday celebration.

He finds the water tribe scrolls on his desk the next morning, and three pirates in the jail awaiting sentencing. He also finds one of the scribe's notes about necklace making, and he reads over them, noting that apparently hand crafted items are the biggest compliment to pay to someone you admire; and a necklace is the ultimate expression of that. He stores that idea content that the water tribe scrolls and bending formations will be good enough as a gift. He thanks his servants and makes sure everything is prepared for his trip to Ba Sing Se. Mai declines to come and he assures her he won’t be long; she assures him she’ll survive without him; he knows it’s as good as her saying she’ll miss him. They share a kiss before he leaves on his trip. He didn’t tell his Uncle he was coming, hoping to surprise him, it had been two years since they’d seen each other.

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When Zuko gets to the entrance to Ba Sing Se he’s not really sure where to go; his feet try to make him return to the house he’d lived in with his Uncle but the carriage he’s riding in brings him to a sprawling house in the uppermost ring; the avatars home; the guide tells him.

He’s not surprised that Sokka is the first one to hug him; Aang follows, slightly taller than the last time he’d seen him. Toph offers him the usual shoulder punch and he sweeps her into a hug, carefully keeping her feet on the ground so she doesn’t lose her bearings. Suki grins pulling him into a hug twisting her face so she doesn’t smudge her warrior face paint.

“Do you have a mission?” he smiles a little and she grins back.

“Of course; I’m in charge of security.” She laughs and Zuko shakes his head. She leads him back into the house; where he greets Katara; surprised by the hug she gives him.

“Missed me that much then?” He grins at her and watches as she looks away slightly. She looks older; he’s sure they all do; but her hair hasn’t changed; it's down a natural wave to it, save for the bun and looping strands that frame her face. He wonders how different he looks. He knows his hair has grown out more; it’s not the length he had it when he was banished but it’s long enough where he no longer has to force it into a barely long enough ribbon.

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“Now before the party later today we have to stop at this wonderful tea shop we never got the chance to visit.” Toph grins as the rest of the group move to follow. Zuko leads the way, they’ve all chosen to walk and he’s surprised how many people seem amicable to him, he reasons it’s because of who he’s walking with but he jerks slightly when Katara nudges him forward when a few people call his attention.

“Yes?” He’s grateful he’s been able to master the neutral expression because he wants to frown when they bow to him. He resists the urge to bow back; his advisors had informed him it was unheard of; still he inclines his head smiling when they gasp a little.

“Firelord Zuko; it’s so wonderful to see you out in our city.”

“Well it is home to one of the best tea shops in any of the nations; the Jasmine Dragon.” He grins when they look excited and nod.

“We’ve been there; the service is wonderful.” He laughs a little recognising one of the older members as one of the guards he had served. They make it to the Jasmine Dragon uninterrupted. Zuko figures he deserves to be childish as he hides behind the rest of them, making shushing noises as they enter the tea shop.

“Welcome to the Jasmine Dragon.” Zuko swears he can feel his Uncle looking for him; how his voice waivers at the word dragon; Toph leaves the group first moving to hug Iroh; Zuko can feel the ground shifting slightly and he rushes past while his Uncle’s eyes are closed. Grinning as his apron is still on the hook after these years. He ties it automatically and can’t keep the smile from his face as he stands to the side watching the group finish greeting him

“Uncle- um Iroh.” Katara nods to the empty seat and he shakes his head.

“Please; we insist. Excuse us.” Katara waves her hand as she pulls Iroh into the seat. Iroh looks amused and Katara smiles at him saying something Zuko doesn’t hear beyond the blood rushing in his ears.

“Welcome to the Jasmine Dragon; I’m Li, your server-” He’s surprised he got that far before his Uncle hugged him. He gets them all their tea; he’s about to let his uncle make it when Katara shakes her head offering him her seat as she assures him she'll supervise Zuko.

The tea tastes almost exactly like when his Uncle makes it and it’s enough to make Zuko sigh in relief.

Zuko serves everyone and settles into the seat between his uncle ant Katara. He’s watching Katara as she flicks her wrist; he knows most of the table misses it. He knows his uncle didn’t but when he complements the mixing her face lights up.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were spoiling him.”

“So what if I am? The man who freed Ba Sing Se deserves his tea made exactly how he likes it.”

“Ohhh, and here I thought;” he holds his hands up with a sly smile creeping on his face, it drops for a second when Katara makes eye contact with him, her eyes shimmering at whatever comment he’s going to add.

“I see what you’re doing; making us depend on you for our tea first; and then what; it’ll never end Ms. Water nation diplomat; pretty soon we’ll be having trade routes and intermingling of cultures.” Zuko chuckles.

“Conspiring with the Dragon of the West himself! Truly a stroke of genius.” Zuko’s chuckles fade nervously at Katara’s now unreadable face.

“Sorry. Was that inappropriate?” Zuko curls inward slightly.

“Oh no; it just wasn’t funny.” Katara’s smile and Sokka’s bark of laughter make him grin, until he feels the flick of cold tea against his neck and finds that the tea in his cup has turned to ice.

“And here I thought teaching those kids waterbending would have improved your sense of humour from being around them for years.”

“But I wasn’t with Sokka?” That makes him laugh again and Katara smiles back at him, hiding her continued laughter by turning to check on everyone else, she starts to ask about some diplomacy meeting and Sokka jerks her chair.

“No working on your birthday missy!” Sokka grins, Katara scowls and Zuko nods along with Aang who has a solemn look on his face.

“Yeah, listen to your brother; you can’t work on your birthday; save that for tomorrow, when he’s passed out from a hangover.” Aang laughs at Zuko’s joke so Zuko counts it as a win.

“Oh I was wondering where I should bring the present I have for you.”

“Present?” He can see Katara’s eyes turning towards Sokka and narrowing.

“Uh yeah; it’s your birthday; you get presents on that day; I mean in the fire nation you do.” The terror strikes through him as he realizes Sokka may have been joking about the gift.

“That’s really sweet Zuko; thank you; I guess I’ll have to open it later?”

“You can open it whenever we get back to the house; it’s there with all my things.” He can see Sokka narrowing his eyes at him and he shifts slightly backwards in his seat.

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”They were in the library I thought you would have more use for them; and they’re yours by right anyways; this doesn’t seem like a very good gift now that I think about it…” Zuko hangs his head slightly; Katara doesn’t seem to hear him; she’s focusing on the scrolls, waterbending forms and movements he’s assuming she’d seen before but with how delicately she’s holding the scrolls he thinks maybe she hasn’t.

“If it’s stuff you’ve…” he trails off looking confused when Katara grabs Sokka’s hand and pushes him towards the scrolls she’s holding.

“That’s..” He doesn’t finish instead pushing Katara aside slightly to just stare at a corner of the page. He cranes his neck, noticing they’re looking at the notes written in the margins. He hadn’t bothered reading the waterbending notes; he barely opened the scrolls themselves just to check they weren’t anything cruel on them. He reads it now; understanding dawning and his throat tightening in empathy, he tries to swallow it away but the thought of finding something his mother had left just for him; is suffocating. He understands why both her and Sokka are tearing up. He’s struck with a sinking feeling as well; these must have come from the raid; from the day she was killed. Zuko feels a little sick but brushes it aside for now; his friend's happiness comes first. In addition to the fact he has a party to attend in a few hours and refusing would be seen as rude at the least and an act of war at the very worst.

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ddagent · 5 years ago

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Hi!Today is my birthday, I just turned 29yo and I'm pretty sad , cause I'm still single and have never been with anyone before, in all my 29 years in this world - not even a kiss or holding hands or anything actually:( So I was wondering if you would like to write something with Brienne being my age and still alone and with no experience with dating/relationships, but then she meets Jaime. Maybe in a ModernAU setting?Or maybe you know some fics like that and can recommend them to me? Thank you!

Hello, Anon! First of all, HAPPY, HAPPY BIRTHDAY! Second of all, I understand why you’re sad. But take it from someone who has a smattering of experience that, looking back, feels more like ticking things off a checklist: there is no deadline for things like this. Anyone who says otherwise is a prick, and I will beat them up on your behalf. Anyway, happy birthday, and I hope you enjoy.

“Oh, I think there’s been a mistake?” Brienne asked, calling after the wedding planner as she walked past. “I seem to be on the children’s table.”

The planner pinned a sickly sweet smile to her features. “Don’t be silly, dear. That’s the singles table.”

“Right.”

The planner did not give Brienne a second moment of her time; instead, she darted off to attend to another issue in the Stark-Maegyr nuptials. Drawing in a tight breath, Brienne followed the directions to table 28. She knew a few of the children: Rickon, Sam Tarly’s boy. The kids of Talisa’s friends. And there was her place setting, ‘Brienne Tarth’. She’d been invited as a courtesy: she worked with Robb’s mother at Winterfell University, and Catelyn had made several comments about Brienne getting out more.

Sitting at the back with a bunch of adolescents was surely not what her mentor had had in mind.

Still, at least she wouldn’t be interrogated as to her constant singledom and her lack of plus one. Maybe she could steal some of the colouring sheets the guest on her left had been given. Coloured crayons in various reds and golds; sheet after sheet of lions and knights. The place setting read ‘Jaime Lannister’. Brienne frowned. She didn’t think the Starks knew any Lannisters.

Behind her, someone barked out a laugh. She turned, and was faced with the most beautiful man she had ever seen. One of Talisa’s friends, no doubt. They were all so lithe and beautiful. Probably why the wedding planner had stuck Brienne in the back.

The man reached down and plucked Jaime Lannister’s place setting from the table. He grinned. “And here I thought the Starks didn’t have a sense of humour.”

“I’m sorry?”

He showed her the place setting. “I’m Jaime Lannister. Oh, and they even gave me something to do whilst old Ned raves about how proud he is of his boy.” The man dragged out his chair, nodded at the five-year-old beside him, before turning to Brienne. “So, how did you rate the children’s table?”

“I was told it was the singles table.”

Jaime winced. “Ouch.”

“Quite.”

If being relegated to the children’s table wasn’t bad enough, now Brienne had to suffer through the wedding with what was the most gorgeous man in all of Westeros. Dark golden hair fell across his face; a salt and pepper beard covered his jaw. His green eyes were vivid and deep and Brienne felt her cheeks flush when she caught his gaze once or twice. Fuck.

Whilst the rest of the wedding guests took their seats, their table busied themselves with school talk and colouring. Seeing she had no paper, Jaime passed her a picture of a knight and a gold-coloured crayon. “So, can you tell time yet?”

Brienne snorted, and began shading in the knight’s helm. “I hope so. I’m doing my PhD at Winterfell University. You?”

“I keep getting the threes and the nines muddled up.” He smirked, and Brienne found herself warming to the man beside her. He’s just being nice. You’re the only person he has to talk to. “So, no plus one? I’m surprised.”

Her crayon hesitated over the paper. “Everyone says that. They say it so politely, so pitying.” She began scrubbing at the paper so hard her crayon stabbed right through. “I know what I look like. I’ve long accepted I won’t get to have children, or be married, or hold hands, or be kissed—”

“—you’ve never been kissed?”

She held her crayon out like a dagger, pointing it at the man’s eyes. “Don’t judge me. Not everyone looks like the Warrior reborn. I bet you could smile at the bride and she’d elope with you.”

He shrugged. “Probably." Jaime took the torn colouring paper, balled it, and threw it in one of the rubbish bins nearby; earning the respect of most of the children round their table. Rickon shared with him his blue crayon, and Jaime gave her a lion to colour in. “I’ve only ever kissed one person.”

Brienne stared at him. Jaime was eight, perhaps even ten years older than her. “That sounds rather romantic.”

“It would be if she’d only kissed me, too.” He slumped back in his seat. “Trust me, I might have ticked a few boxes off the list, but there’s still a whole bunch of things I’ve never experienced. I turn forty next year, and I’ve never woken up beside someone.”

“There’s still time. You’re not that old.” He dropped his jaw, placing a hand upon his chest, as if he was offended by the notion and did not look like a thousand older man fantasies Brienne had had through the years. “I mean, my friend’s grandmother is getting remarried next month. There’s always time.”

“Olenna Tyrell?”

Brienne nodded, a crease forming in her brow. “Yes.”

Jaime grinned. “She’s marrying my father. The granddaughter's planning it all, right?” Another nod. “See if she can’t get some colouring sheets for the guests. I’m really enjoying myself.”

Brienne honestly thought he was joking. Why would Jaime Lannister, who was used to high-end cocktail parties and lavish events, be satisfied sitting beside her and scribbling in a colouring book? But then she saw his picture. A knight, coloured deep blue, with their hair as golden as the crayon in Brienne’s hand. Their eyes were the exact same shade as hers. She caught Jaime grinning, and found her own mouth lift into a smile.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad being at the children’s table after all.

#anonymous #mine: paragraph prompts #ship: braime #braime #jaime x brienne #these fills of mine just keep getting longer and longer

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diddlesanddoodles · 5 years ago

Text

Dumpling ch. 17

(author’s notes: I’M NOT DEAD!)

Keral sent along his message to Hev the blacksmith informing him of Nenani’s need for a new marker with a servant who came to replenish the wine decanter and deliver a few papers and notes to Maevis. Once a fresh post of tea had been brewed and Keral’s wine glass filled, they got to work.

In no time at all, the number of books being taken down from the shelves were taking over the table and along with them came seemingly endless rolls of parchment upon which Maevis furiously scribbled as many notes and citations as his quill and ink could produce. Keral, for his role, thumbed through various books and whenever he came upon something, he slipped a small piece of parchment in the page and sat it before the magician. The library had taken on an air of solemnity.

However, as was his nature, Jae did not much care for the weight of the room and did his best to keep the mood from sinking any further.

“So a smoke mage,” he wondered aloud to to one in particular, lounging against a stack of books. “What makes a smoke mage so dangerous? Because by the name alone, I think the fellow may have drawn the short end of the magic stick.”

“No mage is inherently dangerous,” Barnaby said. “But we do not know this mage’s intentions and what we do know is that they are violent and not above meaningless killing.”

He was on his second cup of tea and comfortably seated on a cushion close to where Maevis was working. After trying to aide in the research himself and suffering a slight dizzy spell, Maevis all but demanded that the old archivist sit and rest.

“It won’t do to tire yourself, my friend,” the magician had told the human gently in an attempt to mask his worry. “Best rest a while.”

“I am fine,” Barnaby replied with a disregarding wave, but he still lowered himself onto the cushion nonetheless. “Just a bit over excited, mind you. I’ll be right as rain in a bit.”

“Not very nice t’be worryin’ old Meeves now,” Keral added. “He already frets over ya like a hen. Won’t be helpin’ ‘im much to be actin’ fragile, eh? Let us do the heavy liftin’ and if ya remember anything, we’ll write it down.”

Barnaby huffed mildly at being accused of acting fragile, but stayed put and did not refuse Jae when he handed him his tea. Nenani watched with confusion as the two giants worked and fussed and Jae fidgeted. She knew very little of magic and prior to meeting Maevis, she had never seen it used.

“What’s a mage?” she asked.

All at once, she became the focus of the room and she felt her face flush. Perhaps it had been a silly question.

“Well,” Maevis began thoughtfully. “A mage is a person who uses magic.”

“Like the kind of magic you do?” she asked.

“Not exactly,” he replied patiently. “I learned magic from studying it in books and from other magicians. A mage does not learn magic, they are born with it. Sometimes they are called Elementals, because a mage’s magic often times coincides with a particular element.”

“Like fire?” she asked. “Fire mages?”

“Correct,” Maevis replied. “Though it is also important to note that while all Elementals are considered mages, not all mages are Elementals.”

Nenani made a face. “I...I don’t...huh?”

Keral laughed at her as he sat a book down. “Elementals are human, but one of us big folk could be a mage. We just wouldn’t be called an Elemental. Like that Bertol fellow.”

Now it was Maevis’s turn to make a face and Keral released a loud bark of a laugh.

“Oh, come now,” Keral replied. “Don’t y’know Bertol is the greatest prophet who ever lived?”

“Bertol the bumbling buffoon,” Maevis replied dryly, “Is as much a prophet as that tea pot over there and not nearly so useful. And only by the skin of his teeth does he have any right to claim himself a mage.”

Keral grinned, laughing. “Don’t care fer his ramblings either then? Hm. Neither does the King.”

“I would not blame King Warren if he should one day decide to place that idiot in the stockades and conveniently forget him.”

“Who is Bertol?” Nenani asked, glancing between the two giants, feeling more confused than ever. Mages, Elementals, and now prophets?

“Bertol is a Vhasshallan mage,” Maevis replied sourly. “He is thought by many in Vhasshal to hold the gift of foresight. That he can see the future and make predictions based upon his visions. He was the one responsible for the Gold prophecy.”

“Gold…?” she asked, trailing off.

“It’s why Warren’s called the Gold King,” Jae added before biting into a biscuit.

Seeing her confusion, Keral reached for a book sitting on the edge of the table, a smallish black volume with gold lettering, and he flipped it open and began to read. His voice was even and mellow, but the words that sprouted from his lips brought with them a sickening sensation of her guts being pulled and ice dripping down her spine.

“The river runs uphill to the dying songs of the fall of fools and Kings that tear flesh from bone and the crown from the mountain. Water runs red with fire and shall rise when the old blood runs new. The flesh taken will be paid in blood and the dead walls will rise with gold.”

He closed the book with a snap and tilted his head down to regard Nenani with an open expression, but froze, brows drawing together, and he bent down. “Ya alright there lass? Yer a bit pale.”

In depths of her memory, she could feel the cool stone of the catacomb and see the empty hollows that once held eyes of those that had once been a person. Those voices chanting. Her dreams that played out in her mind every night. The smell of smoke, the screams of men dying as the fishing boats burned. A man in black, his face obscured by the skull of a stag. Her Uncle calling to her as he died.

And those words…

“...shall rise when the old blood runs new.”

She felt thick fingers wrap around her shoulders and Kerals voice broke through the fog of her mind. Abruptly she broke free and she was no longer within herself but back at the library. The scent of smoke and ash replaced by that of parchment and ink and tea. And Keral’s body odor.

She met his eyes and was surprised to find her cheeks wet. “I...I don’t know...”

“Oi now, don’t go lettin’ them words scare ya. Yer alright,” he told her quietly. “Nothin’ to be upset about. They’re just words, remember. Besides, it already came to pass. Nothin’ to fear, eh?”

Barnaby and Jae were both studying her with a mixture of expressions from worried to bewildered. Now aware that everyone was intently focusing in on her, Nenani flushed and scrubbed at her cheeks in slight embankment. “Sorry. I’m fine.”

“You’ve had quite a day,” Maevis said, an air of suggestion in his tone. With a gloved hand, he waved behind towards the door just beyond the curtain. “Would you like to have a rest?”

“Best thing t’do would get ya back to th’ kitchens,” Keral added as he rubbed his chin in contemplation. “But if ya showed up without a marker, Farris would have a right apoplexy.”

“Yeah, Hev’s work is good,” said Jae. “But metal working takes time. And it’ll take most of the afternoon for Connor to do the detail work.”

Nenani shook her head. “I’m fine. I don’t need to rest. That poem, er – prophecy. I’ve heard it before, but I didn’t know it was a prophecy.”

Maevis expression of concern shifted into mild disdain. “Yes, well. I wouldn’t put much weight nor worry to those words. The one responsible for that dribble has as much foresight as a week old turnip.”

“First a tea pot and now he’s a turnip,” Jae sniggered. “So which one is he?”

“What has that poor old buggar done to earn your ire, Meeves,” Keral asked. “Didn’t think you had it in ya t’hold a grudge. Even against someone deserving of it.”

Maevis took a moment to take a long and slow breath, placing his folded hands atop the table, and seemed to collect himself.

“Anyone can string together phrases with grandiose words so vague as to be perfectly useless,” Maevis replied, his irritation smoothed over, but still there. “There are many who take themselves for grand prophets and mostly their predictions fall to deaf ears. Bertol has managed to convince people his words are true and by the God’s graces, I haven’t the foggiest inclination as to why they would listen to him, of all people.”

“He had good timing,” Keral offered in response. “Folks were looking for something to cling to. They'll cling to hope if they smell it. Makes ‘em desperate.”

“My meaning, precisely, Keral! Words have power when people make it so. Bertol’s words were hallow and meaningless. Just enough vague enough for opportunistic fiends to take advantage. They see themselves in his words and are convinced that they’re meant to grander things. Bertol’s words are reckless. And therefore, dangerous.”

…………………………………………….

“Tell me master Barnabas,” Keral said with surprise formality. He sat in the same chair, but his glass of wine had been replaced by a cup of tea by Maevis after the ranger had all but drained the pitcher all on his own. Beside him stood a small stack of books. Maevis held his own cup and nursed it. Beside him sat a much more impressive amass of books and tomes.

They had paused their research for a break and Barnaby was looking over the slate he had given to Nenani to draw on, showing her how to hold the chalk and how to use the lines to create an image. Keral had been watching them with an enigmatic expression, though Nenani tried not to let it bother her. Keral had managed to subvert her expectations of what kind of a person he was, but there were occasions she had caught glimpses of something else.

Something that she could not help but feel nervous about. But no one else seemed at all concerned, so Nenani decided she was just being silly.

At hearing his name, Barnaby looked to Keral inquisitively and the ranger continued. “How common was red hair in Silvaara?”

The question was odd. Odd enough to catch the room by surprise and then as a consequence, all eyes turned to Nenani. The only one of them with red hair.

Feeling the weight of their curious eyes, she shrank away from their peering gazes. “What?”

Barnaby turned back to Keral, perplexed. “Not too common. Black or brown is more common, such as young master Jae. I myself had brown hair. When I was young. And had hair. Why?”

“What about the highborns?” Keral asked. “Nobles and the like?”

Barnaby’s eyed widened as understanding struck him. “Oh. Well, red was much more common. A genetic consequence of the blood purity obsession that took over the last decades. Though it was wildly held as truth that those with red hair were born of fire and were more likely to hold the Flower’s blessing.”

Jae watched with mild curiosity and then laughed, eyeing Keral skeptically. “What? You think Nenani’ might be a long lost highborn?”

Keral shrugged. “I get curious. The Hill tribes are all brown and black haired save for the last one Farris picked up from Dornbey. Poor sod had quite the reception when I delivered ‘im to Gregis. It was all m’lord this and m’lord that. Practically swarmed th’fellow. He was already outta his head. Poor bastard.”

“Well,” Barnaby continued, glancing at Nenani. “That was one subject I had hoped to broach with you dear. As Jae may have explained, I am an archivist and I write histories. Whenever a human comes to live here on castle grounds I write down their histories. To persevere what little of Silvaara remains. And after your first visit and all that transpired, I had quite forgotten to ask you about who your parents were as I did not want to upset you any further. And Keral has made a fine point. Your hair color tells me I may be able to find your family history if you can tell me your family name.”

“Family name?” Nenani asked, thinking back. “I don’t think we have one...”

“Oh, nonsense,” Barnaby replied. “Everyone has a family name. We’ll start with your father, then. What was his name? Many families passed down names to the first born sons. I might be able to trace you to a particular family.”

“That’s how I got my name.” Jae added in.

“Hayron,” Nenani said. “Papa’s name was Hayron.”

Barnaby, who had taken up a quill and spare parchment to take notes, paused and he peeked over the top of the parchment with raised eyebrows. “Hayron, you said?”

Nenani nodded. “Yes. My Uncle’s name was Halden.”

He placed the the quill and parchment on his lap and seemed to consider her for a moment as though seeking something in her face. After a long moment, he asked “And you’re mother?”

His tone was quiet and almost...seeking?

“Oira.”

The longing look in his eyes dissipated and he nodded. Almost sadly, as though he was disappointed in her answer. “Oira. Hm. I do not know that name. But I do remember Haryon.”

Nenani blinked. “Huh? You knew Papa?”

“And Halden in some respects, though I cannot recall ever speaking to him very much. He took his duties quite seriously, if I’m remembering correctly. They were junior members of the Thorn Guard.”

“Yes!” Nenani exclaimed excitedly. “He told he once that he was in the Thorn Guard. But I don’t know what that is.”

“Oh, whoa. Thorn guards?” She heard Jae whistle and glanced back at him to find her fellow human grinning. Behind him, Keral was expressionless, but his eyes were sharp and focused and she knew his interest had been peaked.

“Hayron is an old name that is fairly common among the Thorn Guard families. However, I only knew one Hayron with a brother named Halden. They were the sons of Captain Hayier.”

Nenani was quiet a moment. “I remember his sword. It had thrones on it. The one they think killed him.”

Barnaby’s eyes turned sad and empathetic and he sighed. “Your father was a good man. Dedicated to his duty and family. All sons of Thorn Guards were under immense pressure to perform and live up to expectations. Competition for high ranks was fierce and even being the son of the captain was not a guarantee of a rank. He earned his mark. As did his brother. I am sorry to know that fate was not so kind to him in the end.”

“So would that make her a Daelg?” Keral asked suddenly. “Or was it Daeleg? I was never much for studying all them Silvaaran Houses.”

“You had it correct, sir. It is Daelg. Unless there was another pair of brothers named Hayron and Halden in the Thorn Guard,” the archivist replied with a grin. “I would be most confident that you’re family name is Daelg.”

The name did not stir any memories and it felt foreign and odd. However, she was not nearly as curious in regards to the name as the revelation that Barnaby had known her father. She had questions now. So many questions. But mostly, she just wanted to know him more. It seemed forever ago that he died. A whole world away in another time. Another life even.

“So, she is highborn?” Jae asked, glancing between Barnaby and Nenani. “I don’t have to start calling her m’lady do I?”

Keral snorted into his drink and turned away to cough into his elbow.

“No, the Thorn Guards were not nobility,” Barnaby replied, amused. “They were in a caste all their own. Above merchants and below Nobles. Once upon a time, marriage between them and highborns was permitted, but it was almost always for a financial gain or the belief that the two would produce exceptional progeny. However it fell out of favor decades prior to the war and in someways expressly forbidden in the name of blood purity. The King and therefore his court were all obsessed with the idea of pure blood. The more pure the line, the higher chance that they would produce a mage of fire.”

“Fire Mages.” Keral added with a final and disdainful cough to clear the tea from his lungs. “Crazy bunch of inbreds.”

“So,” Jae asked. “Speaking of Mages and all that. What exactly is a smoke mage, then? If that’s what you think might be skulking around the countryside killing Vhasshalans.”

“It is an ancient variety of deviant magic. So rare, there does not seem to be any contemporary sources ever describing the existence of one,” Barnaby replied. “But when I was a lad, I was told that a smoke mage is a fire mage that sinned so greatly that the Gods stripped them of their blessing and their fire and leaving only the smoldering ruin of a person. Cursed to wander the world, creating chaos, and suffering in their wake.”

“Well,” Keral said, standing and stretching out his back. “Smoke mage or not, I’ll be needin’ more to work with than an old folk tale. I appreciate your help lads, but until we know more, the only thing to be done is to be out there scoutin’ and reportin’.”

“You’re going back out?” Jae asked. “You just got back.”

“Not tonight. I’ll be with the boys organizing the routes first. First light tomorrow, perhaps,” Keral regarded the boy with a lopsided grin. “Why? D’ya miss me when I ain’t here to hold yer hand, lad?”

Jae glared at the giant. “No.”

“Yer welcome t’use my room when I’m out if ya be needin’ a place to hold up,” Keral said. “Beats sleepin’ in them moldy tunnels.”

Jae glowered, his cheeks flushed. “No thanks. Your room smells like armpits. Besides, I like the tunnels. You bastards can’t go in after me.”

“Young master Jae,” Barnaby snapped indignantly. “I cannot condone such language. Least of all when a young lady is present.”

“It always amazed me how that for a King’s ward,” Maevis observed with a suppressed grin. “Your decorum lessons never have seemed to find proper purchase.”

“Warren does not keep me around to lick his boot,” Jae quipped with a shrug. “He’s got advisers and the court for that.”

Keral laughed. “Ah, well if ya changed yer mind about the room, the offer stands. Y’know the way in.”

The ranger gave his made his excuses and an apology to Maevis’s for leaving him with all the books to put away, but the magician wave him off.

“Nonsense. You never put them back in their proper place when you do feel inclined to return them, so it matters not. I know you have your duties to perform and would hate to keep you from them. I will let you know if I find anything that might be of use.”

With a grin and a wave, the ranger was gone.

#dumpling #Fantasy Story #Giant/tiny #Magic #Mages

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gumnut-logic · 5 years ago

Text

Wings & Water (Part One)

Title: Wings & Water

Part One

Author: Gumnut

Feb 2020

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: “I needed to get your attention.”

Word count: 5451

Spoilers & warnings: Marks & Wings AU, Wing!fic, shapeshifting, Virgil/Kayo, Gordon/Penelope (eventually)

Timeline: Sometime post-‘John’. All the fics can be found on Ao3, the timeline order and artwork can be found on my website.

Author’s note: This is the universe I write when I’m feeling tired, off or unable to write anything else. It is little more than self-indulgence usually, an exercise to find my writing mojo, to play with sensation and description. So tired one night a few nights back I scribbled down what was supposed to be just a scene with Kay and Virgil on the beach. The characters apparently had other ideas and now I have another WIP ::headdesk:: Why do I even try? So, I’ve given up trying to write it in one go and now offer you Part One instead of a complete fic. Fortunately, it does not end on a cliffhanger or anything and could almost be considered complete except for one serious plot thread which is actually quite subtle anyway..

Many thanks to both @scribbles97 and @vegetacide for the read throughs and advice ::hugs you both:: I got wibbly and those who read my Tumblr may recall the ‘floppy’ Virgil post I made in the middle of writing this. Here be the Floppy Virgil I was talking about. I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

It had been a long mission.

Virgil hit the locker rooms with a drawn out sigh. The irrational part of him just wanted to shed uniform in a trail behind him, but his disciplined mind refused to let him. So his baldric was shed and stowed for cleaning and redeployment along with his tool kit and harness. His boots did get kicked under the bench and he would no doubt get words about it later, but at this point he didn’t care.

His mark ached.

And his mind was a battlefield for angry brothers.

He shed his uniform, draping the heavy material over the bench. His black undershirt quickly followed and the cool air of the room hit his skin causing it to goose pimple in response.

His groan as he bent over, stretching the dark lines sculpted into his back, came from somewhere deep inside. He needed to lift, but god, he was tired.

A glance at the shower stalls and he longed for the water drumming on his skin, but the cubicle was too small, too confining. He had to stretch out.

The smallest of groans.

It had been a rockslide. Steep mountain side. Small village.

Children.

He closed his eyes.

They didn’t often lift during rescues. The whole mystic behind their wings was something that either terrified the rescuees more or resulted in amazement and a hailstorm of questions, most of which none of them had time or care to answer.

And god forbid if the media was there.

Which in this day and age only had to be a phone.

A little boy had fallen from a height and Virgil had reacted on instinct. Lifting his massive eight metre span within an eye blink, he launched himself into the air just in time to save the toddler from the sharp rocks below.

The film was still showing on loop on CNN.

The questions of his heritage, their history, previous shots of the Tracy brothers flying...it all came up again.

None of them were happy.

John and Eos did their best to contain the outbreak, but there were limits.

Virgil just wanted to hide.

Kay was still inbound. Alan was up with John, and Scott was still on site at the rock slide. Gordon had come home with Virgil, but his brother had spent the whole trip mentally kicking himself and the aquanaut had promptly disappeared after the necessary post-flight tasks.

And was currently circling the Island waterbound.

Water.

A frown as he bent over to pick up his uniform. Perhaps Gordon had the right of it. A swim, to rinse the clammy feeling from his skin, to stretch out, to relax.

The uniform was chucked in the laundry chute and he grabbed a towel, throwing it over his shoulder. Deciding his undershorts satisfactory, he headed down to the lagoon.

-o-o-o-

Shadow was a beautiful ‘bird to fly. Kayo had flown all the Thunderbirds at one time or another, but Shadow was just elegance in the air, a ballerina up against the rest of the fleet’s brute strength.

Of course, this had its downsides. She was quiet, but not as strong as her sisters. More prone to engine damage under stress and she could carry much less. But these were small sacrifices to let her dance in the sky. More the bird of prey she emulated than should ever be possible.

Kayo flew out of the setting sun on approach to Tracy Island, killing her ‘bird’s forward momentum and activating the docking platform, ready to receive. As was her practise, she flew a standard sensory loop around the perimeter of the Island on approach. She took the opportunity to double check the Island’s security sensors with those highly sensitive scanners built into her ‘bird.

It was reassuring to see all the check sums add up nicely.

Particularly considering the media shit storm currently underway.

She had been on the other side of the planet, liaising with Penny. But the moment she saw Virgil on the nets...Penny had urged her to go. Kayo had no doubts the aristocrat would follow shortly as soon as she could tie up their business.

The Tracys hated what the media could do to them.

This wasn’t the first time. Probably not the last. But that didn’t stop it from hurting.

She knew Virgil. She knew it would get to him first.

Scott would rant and rave. John would steam in his station until Eos called for help. Fortunately Alan was already up there so would probably drag him down with the first excuse he could come up with. Gordon would disappear into the ocean.

Penny would have to go fishing, literally.

Alan, out of all of them, cared the least. She wasn’t sure why, but the youngest just turned a blind eye and shrugged the rest off. Though she did have some knowledge regarding an anonymous caller on a late night talk show the last time this had happened. It hadn’t sounded anything like Alan, but the presenter had been verbally shredded in a very exacting way.

Alan was a smart young man. He didn’t take well to his big brothers being compared to water fowl or chickens.

It was the chickens that probably did it.

But no one other than her and Eos knew he was responsible and she planned to keep it that way.

As Shadow banked she flew over one of the beaches and Kayo got a glimpse of a figure in the water. For a split second she assumed it was Gordon, but the more familiar and intimate profile sank into her mind as she turned back for docking.

It was Virgil.

Her heart tightened.

It had definitely gotten to him.

She hurried through docking procedures and post-flight, hitting the lockers and shedding her uniform as quickly as possible. She unpinned her hair, threw on a sports bra and shorts and darted through the house and out into the trail that led down to the beach.

It was the same beach where he did his regular workout. The same beach he had caught her out and kissed her silly so long ago.

It was a beach with wonderful memories. No doubt the reason why he had chosen to come here.

She wasn’t quiet on approach this time. Her flip flops cracked twig and gravel alike. She wanted him to know she was there.

She needn’t have bothered.

He was waist deep, staring out into the water. His whole upper torso was cast in the gold from the setting sun, leaving his mark an iridescent intricacy of a starry midnight of lines and swirls across his back, shoulders and biceps. The light couldn’t touch it and, as always, she found it mesmerising.

Her feet reached the edge of the water and the wavelets of the lagoon caressed her toes.

She opened her mouth to call his name, but he suddenly hunched a little and lifted.

Black feathers splashed into the water and he groaned aloud, startling her.

God, he was hurting.

But before she could say anything, his wings unfolded to their full span, flinging water in every direction.

They never failed to impress her. Black, iridescent and just huge. He stretched them out to their full extent and held them there. His arms appeared above his head and he stretched with another groan.

Kayo threw herself into the water, wading in behind him, reaching up to rest her hands on his shoulders, brush her cheek against his soft downy back feathers.

He tensed for just that second before recognition set in and he melted under her touch.

“Kay.” His voice was rough and ever so weary. His arms came down and his wings drooped slightly into the water.

Her hands slid from his shoulders, brushing gently across feathers enough to make him shiver, before slipping up under his wings and arms to curl around his chest where he caught them and held her close.

She exhaled amongst down. “I’m sorry, love.”

His breath came out as a soft sigh, his body wilting just a little more against her. “Had to do it. Had to save him.”

“I know.”

His head dropped a little more and she needed to see his expression.

Ducking, she dove under his wing and surfaced in front of him, pushing to her feet as water ran off her body.

His eyes were ever so sad.

Touching a finger to his cheek, she leant up and kissed him gently.

His response was immediate, drawing her in with his arms, his wings leaving wake as they skipped across the water surface to encircle her. His kiss drew her in, his passion feeding hers and for a moment there, it was just the two of them.

But reality quickly intruded at that thought because it never really was just the two of them.

She broke off the kiss, wrapping herself around him, drawing his forehead down to touch hers. “Tell me.”

Another soft groan and he looked down.

“C’mon, love.”

“Gordon blames himself. He feels he should have been in place to prevent the child from falling. John disagrees. I disagree. But he won’t listen. He’s hurting and I can’t help him.”

She had done her best to understand the three brothers and their connection. They could hear each other. Not words, just sensations, emotions. The impressions Virgil described were ever so visual, so tied into how her lover’s mind worked, they were quite frankly amazing. He spoke of starlit blues and magnesium bright golds when speaking of his brothers. But how he processed these into interpretations of what they were thinking, she did not know.”

“Can you tell where he is?”

“Circling the Island like a lost soul.”

“Penny will be here soon.”

“Thank god.”

She brushed the back of her fingers against his cheek, nails dancing over two days’ stubble. He was so tired. He needed sleep. But she knew he wouldn’t be able to until his brother found some peace.

A decision and she straightened slightly. “Swim with me?”

He leant in and kissed her forehead, her eyebrow, her temple, her cheek...he trailed his lips all the way down to her mouth and again took moments, his tongue slipping in between her teeth seeking hers. His arms tightened around her, lifting her in the water, almost clinging.

Her eyes closed and her only sensation was him.

-o-o-o-

Virgil sometimes wondered how he had survived before finding Kay’s love. Obviously, he had, and he had been happy as a member of an extraordinary family, but now her touch was capable of consuming him, blocking the world out and giving such comfort to his soul.

He broke off the kiss and ran his fingers through her wet hair. Her hands moved to his chest, brushing through fine feathers and hair alike.

The need to rest was aching in his bones, but the tired spark who was his younger brother was fizzling in the back of his mind and the silent fury of John so far above them was a burn that gave him no relief.

He didn’t blame them. No, there was no fault in this, either in the effect or the reason. All he wanted to do was reach out and reassure. But Gordon wasn’t listening, John was still juggling the after effects as he and Eos took out copies of that damned video and the commentary that came with it.

There were no fuzzy or poorly caught video files. Technology compensated for lighting and speed and the footage of himself running, his feathers sprouting through his uniform as he moved was ever so clear. His yell as he launched himself into the air, even the sound of straining wing beats as he took off almost vertically could be heard. He weighed more with all his kit strapped to his body and it had been hard work to get airborne at that angle and speed.

But he had managed it. Caught the screaming child mid air. He had been forced to gain more height to even out his flight before banking in an arc to land beside a screaming parent.

He didn’t speak her language, but the terror in her eyes as handed the boy over was not only for his safety, but for the man who had saved him.

There had been murmuring as he folded his wings and walked away. He had let his wings go and forced himself back into routine. Just another rescue. Just save as many as he could.

But the staring, the wide eyes, the touch of fear, the question of ‘what are you’ that hung in the air hovering over his bent back as he worked to save a young girl.

The whispering.

The remorse stirring in his younger brother.

He could feel Gordon on approach. He wasn’t far away, still looping the Island. Perhaps...

He shook himself and found Kay staring up at him, worry in her eyes. Her fingers, once again brushed his cheek and he kissed them. Hands on her waist, he turned in the water, taking her with him until he was facing the shore, his back to the horizon. He stepped back and let her go.

“Virgil?”

“I need...” He needed her. God, he longed for her touch. But he also needed his brothers. He needed rest.

He took another step back, moving deeper, his wingtips dragging against the swell.

She frowned at him in worry. “Virgil, what?”

A flash of midnight alarm and he let himself fall backwards into the water.

Virgil closed his eyes.

-o-o-o-

This was all his fault. The child had been part of a group of villagers whose homes were on the top of the cliff that had fractured, taking out the the rest of the village below. Virgil had identified the area unsafe with Two’s scanners while on approach and Gordon had been assigned to shore up the cliff edge with nanocrete. Which he had, using a pod. But he had returned on foot, not convinced it was fully secured and filled a few more cracks to make sure the cliff wasn’t about to collapse before Virgil could finish the evacuation below.

His back had been turned to the village behind him. He should have kept an eye out. Several families had refused to leave their homes no matter what John broadcast across Two’s external loudspeakers in any language.

He had seen the little boy out the corner of his eye and moved to stop him, but the toddler had taken a fright at the sight of Gordon dressed in his protective equipment and the long snake of delivery tube in his hands.

He had yelled in caution, but the child only startled more, a mother screaming somewhere off to the left. The little boy stepped backwards...and was gone.

Gordon’s shock screamed across to his brothers and Virgil responded.

As Gordon hurried to the edge, his brother was already airborne, great black wings beating hard to gain height and the intense concentration of he had to do, foremost.

Virgil caught the little boy, shooting up past the edge of the cliff and Gordon in a great black-blue-green streak.

The little boy was screaming.

His brother circled around and brought himself into land gracefully in front of a tearful mother.

She took her son, obviously terrified and hurried away.

Virgil’s shoulders dropped just enough for Gordon to notice before those wings folded and vanished.

People were talking. Muttering. Words of fear. At least one obvious obscenity despite the language barrier. As Virgil approached Gordon, the words grew louder.

Someone threw something.

Virgil helped him finish securing the cliff edge and then they had flown back down with the pod.

Scott was liaising with local emergency services, but the questions being flung at him when Gordon arrived to report, had nothing to do with the emergency.

“I’m sorry, what you are asking is our private business and I repeat we have no comment. Now can we please save these people.”

One emergency services officer was replaying Virgil’s flight on his phone with several of his buddies hovering around.

While Virgil had donned his exo-suit and was shifting rubble off a trapped family not twenty metres away.

Scott lost it in the calm and deadly way only Scott could two seconds later. Another two seconds and all those emergency personnel were fleeing from Commander Tracy whether they could understand him not.

“Is the cliff secure?” Those angry blue eyes were glaring at him.

“Yes.”

A swallow and a red flush to his cheeks. “Assist Virgil, deploy the pod for anything he can’t lift.”

“FAB.”

Gordon spent the next three hours doing exactly that.

Hardly a word was said between the brothers beyond the necessary. Virgil was very quiet and Gordon even more.

John, so far above them was spikes of anger as he wrestled with both the networks and the language on site. Gordon didn’t need a translation of what was being said with his brother so highly tuned to understanding.

And it was all Gordon’s fault.

If he had been paying more attention.

If he had been fast enough to stop the child.

If he hadn’t scared him further.

Gordon did not have wings. The world did not know of his ability and he was damn glad they didn’t. But his gentle brother had been cornered into lifting a handful of times on rescues and every time it was the same. Curiosity and terror.

Scott had lifted in public before as well, but Johnny hadn’t been seen since the attack and Alan had never been seen at all.

Of course, that didn’t stop the press. There was artwork out there guessing what colour both Gordon and Alan’s wings were, not to mention the conspiracy theories surrounding John’s absence.

If they knew Gordon grew fins instead...

They weren’t the only Aves out there, but the ability was so rare, it was a novelty.

The depressive and exhausted cloud hovering over Virgil just drove Gordon’s guilt deeper.

John instinctively tried to calm him, but the man wasn’t great himself, slowly approaching boiling point like a pot simmering on the stove. There was only so much his brother could tolerate and no doubt the slander was vile.

On the way back to the Island, Virgil had tried to talk to him, but by then Gordon was too angry with himself to respond intelligently. As soon as they landed, he was out the hatch and headed to the water where he shifted and let himself go.

He flew through the ocean, his wings those of his eagle ray form. His change muted his brothers somewhat, though not entirely and he had no doubt they could still feel him.

It was just stupid. He could have easily prevented it, yet he hadn’t and Virgil had been exposed again.

The water blurred around him as his thoughts took him in as many circles as those he made around the Island.

He knew the moment his brother stepped into the water.

Virg.

For god’s sake.

He just wanted to be alone. To think.

An emerald spark shot across the ocean at him. It was full of worry and love and so his big brother his heart clenched.

But he didn’t deserve it.

That didn’t stop Virgil.

A wave of exhaustion, fear for his safety and concern followed that spark.

Virgil was such a motherhen.

And he loved him for it.

But he didn’t deserve it. If anything, he should be apologising to his brother. It was all his fault!

Virgil’s mental sigh was almost a physical thing.

Gordon arced away from the Island and further out into the sea.

As he looped around the familiar beaches and outcrops, anger again sparked from far above and Gordon wondered what the hell his star brother had found now.

All his damn fault.

A spark of blue-grey suddenly radiated from Virgil’s direction followed by a wash of relief and desperate love.

Gordon mentally blinked and smiled. Tin had his brother.

Her touch was like fire to the gentle man. Gordon could not feel her at all, but Virgil’s reactions were enough to alert both John and himself to her presence...which led to interesting times...sometimes.

But for the moment, Gordon was only grateful she had his brother in hand. She would look after him.

Gordon dove deeper, revelling in the cool water streaming across his body.

Tin and Virgil had been a surprise to both John and Gordon. A spark of which neither of them had been aware, burst into flame and both of them reeled as their brother lit up.

Gordon felt it was truly something beautiful. Virgil deserved so much happiness and his sister blossomed as their relationship developed. Gordon wasn’t one to pry much beyond blackmail material, but his brother’s joy just overflowed into everything and everyone around him.

So it was with some shock that he received the first flickers of panic and a sensation of...drowning!

The eagle ray shifted mid beat and was replaced with a shark, the mako’s slim and speed-designed form throwing him through the water towards the beach where his brother was now struggling.

What the hell had happened?

It only took moments for Gordon to reach the waterlogged Ave, Tin struggling to pull Virgil out of the water, his fully spread wings hampering her efforts, his weight and drag formidable.

A leap and Gordon shifted mid-air, landing smoothly on his feet in the chest high water behind his brother and grabbing his feathered shoulders as Tin pulled desperately at his arms.

Between them, they got him upright, his wings still hanging in the water.

“What the hell, Virgil?!”

John was sparking all over the place, fear and fury, the astronaut was getting closer. No doubt, heading down on the elevator.

“What were you thinking?!”

They were both supporting him, one on each side, step by step dragging him towards shore.

“I needed to get your attention.”

“What the hell? By drowning yourself?!”

“I knew where you were. I was safe.”

Gordon stopped in the knee high water, waves muttering at his legs. “Why?!”

Tin’s expression was fast morphing from fear to rage and she yanked on her lover causing him to stumble.

Eight metres of black wings were dragged out of the water and onto the sand. The winged brothers were as nimble in the water with their wings spread as Gordon was in the sky in his ray form. In other words, not at all. They weren’t sea Aves. Their wings were not waterproof and while they did possess enough natural oils to prevent any damage to the feathers, they were extremely cumbersome underwater, heavy and that was why all the brothers let their wings go before diving into the ocean.

“Why didn’t you let them go?!” Tin was furious.

Gordon found it totally understandable since he shared the feeling.

A distant murmur off to the east suddenly swelled to a roar and Thunderbird One shot into the Island’s airspace, hovering a moment before rising up in preparation to dock.

John had obviously let the cat out of the bag. None of the three middle brothers could sense the eldest or the youngest.

But that was what comms were for.

As if to emphasise the point, the faint dot of the descending elevator appeared far above the volcanic peaks and made its way down between the jagged rocks.

A matter of minutes and they would be mobbed by brothers.

Gordon stood in front of his brother and glared. “Explain it to me now.”

Virgil’s whole posture was one of exhaustion. His eyes bloodshot, eyelids at half mast, his wings dragging on the sand. “I needed to break the cycle. you were so angry with yourself.” A hand reached out and landed on his shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault, Gordon. Let it rest. Let me rest.” Please. And Virgil was folding himself up, crouching down to sit on the sand his wings were covered in.

“Why didn’t you just call me?”

“I did. Again and again. You wouldn’t answer.” A sigh. “Too angry.”

Gordon opened his mouth to retort, but nothing came out. A pause. “You could have drowned!”

“No. It wouldn’t have gone that far.”

“How do you know?!” Tin was livid. “That was stupid, Virgil. You made me watch and I couldn’t pull you up-“ She broke off, struggling to compose herself.

Virgil reached up and pulled her to him. She resisted, but he insisted, and swearing through her teeth, she folded down beside him. He tucked her under his chin, muttering quiet apologies over and over again, his eyes closing.

Gordon took a step back, sensitive to what had suddenly become a private moment.

He looked up as his sense of John swelled above him, to see three brothers gliding over the palm trees. A rush of backwing breeze as six feet hit the sand.

Scott’s silver grey wings folded and vanished first, followed by Alan’s gold-blond flicker of feathers. John’s prosthetics whispered closed with just enough difference to the others to declare them artificial, ever reminding them of what had been done to their brother.

Gordon stepped in between Virgil and their brothers, holding up his hands.

Scott frowned, eyes barely leaving the pair curled up on the sand. “What happened?”

“He’s tired. Leave it. Probably my fault.”

That only served to narrow his older brother’s attention on Gordon. “What happened?”

John broke off with a flash of frustration and stormed past to crouch beside Virgil, his hand coming to rest on his brother’s shoulder. Murmured words Gordon couldn’t hear, but flashes of emotion danced around his head.

It was then Gordon realised that it wasn’t only Virgil who was exhausted.

“Scott, he did it to get my attention. He was successful, if overly dramatic. Blame it on the day if you have to. I’ll kick his ass later, I promise. If he survives Tin, that is.” Gordon eyed the pair. He knew his sister. This wasn’t over and he didn’t begrudge her at all. Of all the stupid things for his brother to do...

“Are you okay?” Alan’s voice sounded a little small.

Gordon sighed and strode over to his little brother who looked even smaller with the lack of shirt. His bro really needed more sun. Too much time spent in space. If he wasn’t careful, he’d end up glowing in the dark like Johnny.

He dropped a damp arm around Alan’s shoulders and grinned as his brother squirmed.

“You’re all cold and wet.”

“Comes with the territory, little bro.”

“Ergh.”

But he didn’t pull away.

Scott eyed the both of them, but his lips thinned anyway and he turned towards the huddle of brothers and sister on the ground.

“Scott?”

His brother turned to him.

“Be kind.”

The man frowned a little before nodding once and turning back, his silver mark glittering in the shadow of the vanishing sun.

-o-o-o-

Okay, it was a stupid thing to do.

John’s hand gripped his shoulder like a vice and the short sharp words cut at him. What had he been thinking?

“I don’t know, John. I just...don’t know.” He curled himself around Kay. His wings were sodden and covered in sand, he desperately need to preen them clean, but so, so tired.

He closed his eyes.

The midnight sun of his younger brother swelled and enveloped him. The intensity of worry, anger and love that came with it, his brother’s fingers on his feathered shoulder and two words.

It’s okay.

Virgil’s eyes shot open, seeking turquoise in the dimming light. “John?”

His brother’s eyes widened. Standing beside Alan, Gordon’s head shot up, a worried query thrown directly at the both of them.

But John still hadn’t answered him. John?

Oh, shit.

What the hell?

But Scott interrupted and John shook his head just enough to stop Virgil saying anything.

Kay was staring at the both of them.

The eldest was oblivious to the entire exchange, his focus still on a younger brother who had done something stupid.

“Virgil, I need to know what happened.” His big brother’s voice was calm, but demanding. “John said you were in some difficulty. That you were drowning. Why were you in the water with your wings lifted in the first place?”

“I...” Turquoise, blue, green and brown were all staring at him in the approaching darkness. “It was nothing.” He looked down shaking his head. Please, I just need sleep. God, please just let me rest.

John straightened, his hand still on Virgil’s shoulder. Voice quiet. “Scott, maybe later? We’re all exhausted. Virgil has been awake for almost thirty-six hours.”

Scott’s eyes glittered in the darkness for a moment as they darted to his middle brother. The commander’s lips thinned even further. “We debrief first thing in the morning.” Back to Virgil, his eyes softening with worry. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Virgil blinked, his tired mind frozen in shock. What? He didn’t have to explain?

Be thankful and move. John was lifting him under one shoulder while Kay had slid under his other one. Somewhat dazed, he found himself on his feet, turned around and led back into the water.

Suddenly Gordon was there with Kay. John stepped back and let Virgil go as they stepped into the waves. They went in deep enough for him to fully submerge his feathers, Kay and Gordon helping him wash off the sand.

They didn’t let go of him once.

God, these feathers are huge. Must be heavy. How the hell does he support them? Tank body, tank wings, I guess.

Virgil frowned and stared at Gordon. What?

They’re darker than night, yet catch the light. Gordon had one gentle hand on Virgil’s forewing and was combing ever so carefully through his flight feathers.

Stealth wings. The thought was humorous, but no smile appeared on his little brother’s face, his frown of concentration dominant.

Virgil continued to stare.

Gordon shook his feathers ever so gently. “Okay, bro, I think I’ve got most of it out. Tin, you’re side done?”

Virgil turned to find his beloved Kay finishing up, her touch soft and loving despite the anger on her face. “We’re good.”

“They’re all yours, Virg.” Gordon moved in closer and gently squeezed his shoulder. “Don’t drown yourself again.” A small smile and he walked back to shore.

Something slipped away with him.

Kay was less liking to let him go, scooting in and grabbing his hand, leading him back to shore. As they approached, the four brothers on shore stepped back and gave Virgil room.

The sand was firm under the soles of his feet.

Kay stepped out of reach and he was clear.

Bracing his feet, he expanded his wings fully, ignoring their tired complaint, and shook them. Leaning over slightly, he pushed them through the air, their huge beats threatening to lift him off the beach.

Water scattered everywhere. Wingdraft caught the tideline detritus and flung it across the beach. Two of his brother complained as sand was tossed with it.

Alan ended up with seaweed in his hair.

But god, it felt good.

He wanted to jump into the sky, to fully stretch himself out, the feel the wind in his face.

“Virgil!”

John and Gordon said his name together, both of them frowning as if twinned. It would have made a great photographic moment if they weren’t projecting so much worry.

Or if Kay wasn’t standing beside them, her expression even worse.

He didn’t need to look at Scott to know what he would be thinking, lack of mental connection or not.

Okay.

He slowed his wings, enjoying the feel of the air rifling through his drying feathers. As the draft lessened, Kay approached him, her hands landing on his bare chest, only to slide up to his shoulders and the back of his neck.

Her fingers climbed into his hair and she brought his forehead down to hers.

“Let them go, love.”

He closed his eyes, his hands landing at her waist. One more stretch of his wing muscles and he shook his feathers before folding them neatly across his back.

Then he let them go.

To say she kept him on his feet wouldn’t have been a lie.

So stupid.

So tired.

Kay slipped under one arm and he suddenly found Scott under his other.

Virgil frowned. “I’m fine. I’m not sick.”

“I’ll let the medscanner reassure me anyway.”

“Scott-“

“Virgil, home, medical scan, bed. That’s an order.”

Mumbled. “Not on duty.”

Kay poked him in the ribs. “Move your ass.”

“Well, in that case...”

Gordon snorted and his brothers and his Kay took him home.

-o-o-o-

End Part One

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Virgil Tracy #Gordon Tracy #John Tracy #marks and wings

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abundanceofsoph · 4 years ago

Text

SkyFire 1: Chapter 21

On the Road Again cont. & Rascal Flatts: August 2015

Word count: 3.3k

SkyFire 1 MASTERLIST

>Instagram posts

As August began, the band found themselves back in New York. Following a show in Pittsburgh they arrived in the morning, the day before they were scheduled to appear on Good Morning America for the shows Summer Concert series and since it was scheduled to be filmed in Central Park, a mere stones throw away from Avengers Tower, it made sense for them to stay there instead of booking hotel suites for all of them.

Tony and Steve were glad to have Rori home, if only for two days, having missed her while she travelled with the band for the last 2 months and she’d missed them too, of course, happy to be home briefly before continuing on with the tour for another month. That evening they all crowded into the living room in the penthouse with Sam, Bucky and Thor joining the Stark-Rogers family and the band. They watched a movie, Aurora curled up against Tony, his arm wrapped around her shoulder. She fell asleep at some point, waking up when Louis started throwing popcorn at her, causing Niall to laugh hysterically. They didn’t stay up too late, aware of how early they would need to be up the following morning.

They sky was still dark when they woke the next morning and the sun was still hidden behind the city skyline, barely lighting the sky as they left the tower and walked across the road towards the southwest corner of Central Park. They were joined by the bands security team as they made their way up West Drive and across Sheep Meadow to reach the Summer Stage in Rumsey Playfield. Despite the pre-dawn hour, fans were already camped out across the park, having slept out overnight to ensure their spots for the concert and the five of them dashed towards the backstage tents behind the stage, avoiding drawing the attention of the fans in the soft morning light.

Finally, the sun rose into the sky, warming the summer morning and Aurora grinned with pride as they boys sat on the stage in front of all their fans, talking about the upcoming album, the rest of the tour and Louis’ exciting baby news. By the time the interview concluded, and the boys prepared for the first song, the morning was already warming up and Aurora removed her jacket, revealing her sundress and her most recent tattoo, a rose nestled between her shoulder blades, the stem tracing down her spine. She lifted her hands into the air, joining the fans surrounding her, cheering as the boys stepped back out on the stage and started the performance.

By the time the last song came to an end, Aurora made her way out of the crowd and towards the backstage tent, throwing her arms around Harry once he made his way of the stage.

xXx

After leaving New York, the tour stopped in Rutherford and Baltimore before taking 9 days off and while Niall, Liam and Louis used the time to fly home and see family briefly, Harry and Aurora headed for the coast to spend a few days on the beach.

Aurora barely wasted a moment to drop her bags inside the little beachfront cottage that they’d rented before she was out the door and heading down to the warm sand. Harry joined her a few moments later, wrapping his arms around her stomach as he came up behind where she was standing, her eyes closed and face turned towards the water, soaking up the afternoon sunlight, their toes digging into the sand below them.

They spent the next few days swimming in the ocean, reading or watching movies in the evenings and revelling in the opportunity to spend time alone together with nowhere to be or no one demanding their attention for one thing or another. On their last evening they were curled up on the porch swing, looking out over the moonlit waves, a blanket thrown over their laps to ward off the cool breeze blowing up off the ocean. Harry had a glass of wine in one hand, his other resting around Aurora’s shoulders as her head lay on his shoulder.

“So, there’s something I need to tell you before we get back to the tour,” Harry said, breaking the comfortable silence that had stretched around them in the summer night. “Something the boys and I have been talking about for a while now.”

“Should I be worried?” Rori asked, lifting her head up to look into his eyes.

“No,” Harry promised, “but we’ve decided to take a break. We’re going to go on a hiatus for a year or two.”

“What?” Aurora asked, surprised by the news, having had no idea that it was even an idea before now. “But things have been going so well. Why?”

“We’re all exhausted,” he explained. “None of us have gotten the chance to see our families or live our lives for more than a few weeks at a time in years. We’re in our early 20s and we’ve been working non-stop for the last 5 years. Zayn leaving just made us realise that this isn’t healthy for any of us and we decided we should take a year or two off now before any of us burn out. I don’t want any of them to leave like he did, I can’t do that again. If we all take a break now, we can make sure that doesn’t happen. I just hope the fans don’t hate us for it.”

“Oh Harry,” Rori sighed, wrapping her arms around her boyfriend and pulling him tightly against her. “They’ll be upset but they’ll support you guys no matter what happens. So will I.”

“I love you Rori,” he whispered. “Don’t know what I’d do without you in my life.”

“Good thing you’ll never have to find out,” she replied, smiling warmly up at the man she loved before kissing him. “When are you going to announce it?” she asked softly when they pulled apart.

“In a few weeks.”

xXx

Aurora and Harry flew into Columbus, Ohio the day before the band was scheduled to perform there, and while Harry headed for the stadium for rehearsals and interviews, Aurora took a cab to a local music studio.

She was nervous as she climbed out of the cab, adjusting the hem of her shirt as she made her way through the front doors and gave her name to the receptionist behind the front desk. She was buzzed through the doors to the right and instructed to take the first right and then the third door on the left. Aurora knocked as she opened the door and stepped into the control room, the large window in one wall looking into a spacious live room, instruments and microphones already set up and waiting. There were 3 men sitting in the control room, who all stood when she entered, stepping forward to introduce themselves. Gary, Jay and Joe were all lovely guys, and Aurora was a little star struck at first, having been fans of Rascal Flatts for years, but after spending most of the day chatting and getting to know each other she quickly got over that and was able to look forward to working alongside them for the 2 weeks without the overwhelming anxiety.

The following night Aurora watched the boys from the side of stage and once they left the stadium, she spent the evening wrapped up in Harry’s arms back at the hotel.

“So, Toronto, Chicago, Milwaukee and then you’re back with me,” Rori mumbled in the darkness.

“You’ll be so busy writing number 1 hits that you won’t have time to miss me,” Harry chuckled, trying to brighten his girlfriend’s mood.

“I know it’s silly,” she said. “It’s only 2 weeks but I’m so used to sleeping next to you every night.”

“It’s not silly, love,” Harry promised. “I feel the same, and I really wish we were gonna be together when the hiatus announcement drops.”

“You’ll have the boys with you. You’ll be ok. Just remember the fans love you guys so much. They could never hate you.”

“It’s gonna break their hearts though,” Harry mumbled. “Hate the thought of hurting them after they’ve given me my dreams.”

“And that’s why I love you.”

xXx

For the entirety of the two weeks Harry was gone, Aurora spent almost every moment she could in the studio with Gary, Joe and Jay, revelling in the opportunity to spend uninterrupted time writing and playing. She’d never set aside so much time to write music, usually spending an afternoon here or there, or scribbling lyrics in the back of notebooks while she studied, and she loved every minute of it.

“Ok I’ve got half of something,” Rori said one morning after they’d piled into the studio. “Just a half assed melody and a verse and chorus I came up with last night.”

“Alright well let’s hear it,” Joe said.

Aurora flipped open her notebook to the page she scribbled on the previous night and began to sing what she had, humming when she didn’t have the words to fill the gap.

I know we're running … usually two different ways But we need more than just a quick kiss and a wave goodbye I need you and only you by my side Why don't we turn off the phones, get somewhere alone? I'll trace that smile on your face, 'til the stars fade away Baby, cut off the lights, let our hands talk tonight There's things that need to be said, …. Got good love to be made, take as long as it takes One touch at a time, let our hands talk tonight

Joe picked up his guitar when she finished singing and started to put together the melody, asking her to re-sing certain sections, and then Jay was joining in with the bass line and Gary started piecing together another verse. They spent a few says working on the song until they’d finished Hands Talk and moved on to work on something else.

They played most of Yours If You Want It to Aurora towards the end of the first week and she made some suggestions to the unfinished song, writing a section to slip into the song about 2/3rds of the way through.

Every dollar, every dime, every drop of rain Every single thing I could beg, steal, or borrow Every yesterday and tomorrow Well every grain of sand on the beach Every blade of grass under our feet Baby your name is written on it And it's yours if you want it

“I love it,” Gary said, singing it through a few times for smiling widely. “Inviting you down here was the best idea we’ve ever had.”

The second week of Aurora’s stay in Columbia, she and Gary put their heads together and wrote Are You Happy Now over the course of a few days and after Gary sang the song through with Joe and Jay accompanying him on the guitar and bass, and Aurora playing the piano, all four of them were grinning from ear to ear with excitement.

“This one’s good,” Jay said.

“Let’s go through once more I want to try something,” Aurora said, already starting to play the opening keys of the song. The guys laughed at her eagerness but joined in quickly and when they reached the bridge and the third chorus, Aurora joined in on the vocals with Gary.

“Now that I'm not around,” Gary sang with Aurora echoing the line. “Now that you've finally,” Gary began, Aurora joining him on the second half of the line, “lost what you thought that you needed, never would have treated your heart, like you did. What goes around comes back around.” “It's been that way forever,” Gary continued. “Baby, just look at you now,” they sang together, Gary dropping out to let Aurora finish the line alone, “barely holding it together.” they alternated the next four lines seamlessly, Gary singing first and then Aurora.

“We're so in love.”

“but you gave that up.”

“Just look around.” “Just look around.”

And then they sang the last chorus together, occasionally alternating lines, dipping in and out of the lyrics, watching each other to read which lines to take and which to leave for the other.

“Oh wow,” Jay said when they finished the song. “That was incredible.”

Aurora smiled, blushing as all three men gushed about how great hers and Gary’s voices had blended together.

“This going to have to be a duet,” Gary said, before sitting down with the lyrics and working out where to split the song between the two of them. In the end, Gary took the first verse and Aurora took the second, while they sang the chorus’s together, layering their voices together as the song built toward the final chorus, following the same arrangement they’d sang the first time round and then Aurora played out the final few notes on the piano. After practicing the arrangement a few times, they called it a day and agreed that when they came in the next day they would get in the technician to record the song in full since Aurora only had 2 more days left to work with the boys before she had to drive the 2 hours up to Cleveland to meet back up with Harry and the tour.

They spent every minute of those two days recording the track, Aurora not only laying down her vocals but also playing the piano on the track. An hour before she needed to be on the road, they were all crowded into the control room to listen to the finished song, no one making a sound as it played.

Aurora was grinning from ear to ear when the song faded out to silence, immensely proud of the song and all the work they’d put into it over the last week.

“Thank you so much for this opportunity guys,” she said, turning to look at each of them.

“We should be thanking you,” Joe laughed. “We’re the ones that have 3 incredible tracks for the next album thanks to you. I don’t think we’ve ever had such a productive two weeks in our lives.”

“Me either,” Rori agreed. “But honestly I just had so much fun, so thank you for inviting me down here.”

“You’re welcome, Rori,” Gary said. “There’s actually something we wanted to ask you before you leave. We usually perform at the CMAs in November and me and the boys were talking last night. We were wondering if you’d want to come down and debut Happy Now with us?”

“You want me to sing at the Country Music awards with you?” Aurora asked, shock clear on her face and in her voice causing all three men to chuckle.

“We do,” Jay replied. “The songs bloody great. You in?”

“Absolutely!” Aurora cheered, grinning broadly, all three men hugging her tightly before she said her goodbyes and climbed into the cab waiting for her outside.

xXx

Unlike the previous year when Harry had gone to New York with her at the end of her time on tour, this year she stood in the departures lounge of the Buffalo airport watching as Harry walked away from her to board a flight to Montreal. She tried to hold back the tears threatening to spill from her eyes, knowing that she would see him in November for the CMAs. She held it together right up until he turned around to wave goodbye one last time and the sad expression on his face pushed her over the edge, breaking the dam and sending the tears dripping over her cheeks. The moment Harry saw them, he dropped his bag and run back towards her, causing Niall to pause where he had been walking beside him.

Harry swept Aurora up in his arms, gripping her tightly as her breath stuttered. She tried desperately to pull herself together, knowing that her reaction would only hurt the man she loved, making it more difficult for him to get on the plane that would take him away from her.

“9 weeks,” Harry whispered. “9 weeks and I’ll be back.”

“I know,” Rori replied, her face still buried in his shoulder. “I love you.”

“I love you too. God, I don’t want to get on that plane,” Harry said. “I want to stay here with you and never leave again.”

“You’d be bored,” Rori joked, pulling back from the hug and pecking his lips one last time.

“Never. This hiatus can’t start soon enough,” he sighed.

“You have to go,” Rori urged, pushing him away gently, noticing Niall still waiting by the gate. “Call me when you land.”

Harry pulled her in for one last desperate kiss before turning and walking back to Niall. He didn’t turn back this time and Aurora held her breath until he disappeared from view. As soon as he was gone, she let the sobs break through her chest, slowly walking through the terminal towards her own gate. She waited in the private lounge until her flight was ready and then made her way on board, settling into her first class seat. She put on her headphones and shuffled Four, a soft smile ghosting over her lips as she listened to Harry’s voice, leaning her head back against the seat with her eyes shut as the plane began to taxi down the runway. She let herself wallow in her sadness, knowing that she would need to put it aside when she reached home in about 2 hours’ time. Leaving Harry was never easy, and she hated the months they spent apart but at the same time she had desperately missed her family and was anxious to see them again. She was also excited to start back at school the following week, eager to begin her final year of college, knowing that once she graduated she would be free to travel the world with Harry and very little would keep them apart now that the band was going on Hiatus for the next year and a half.

xXx

A few days after she returned home, Tony and Steve were scheduled to appear on the Late Show for the first night with the new host Stephen Colbert, and since she didn’t have any classes the day they were needed at the Ed Sullivan Theatre, Aurora decided to join them for the day. Having appeared on the Late Show a couple of times when it was hosted by Letterman, Aurora somewhat knew her way around the theatre, although it was interesting to see the subtle changes that had been made for the shows soft reboot with a new host. She’d watched Tony and Steve’s interview from the green room, smiling softly at Steve awkwardness and Tony’s absolute calm in front of the cameras and the audience. Colbert asked them about the team, about leading them together and of course he asked about their relationship. Tony took the lead with most of the answers but when they were asked what it was like having your husband next to you in a fire fight, it was Steve that answered first.

“It’s the best and worst part of the job,” he answered, his arm slung over Tony’s shoulder. “Fantastic because there’s no one I’d trust to have my back more than Tony, but it’s also completely terrifying because if he goes down, I know I’m out of the fight too because I’m going straight for him and getting him out of there.”

They answered more questions about Avenging before being asked about family life.

“Never planned on being a dad,” Tony said. “But Rori’s such an incredible woman and she’s made both of our lives so much better in the last 4 years. Can’t imagine not being a dad anymore.”

“And Steve,” Colbert asked, “what’s it like being a stepdad?”

“Like Tony said,” Steve replied, “Aurora’s so incredible and being her dad is probably the best thing I’ve ever done with my life. I’m very lucky to have her as my daughter. As our daughter.”

NEXT CHAPTER

OR CONTINUE READING ON AO3

#skyfire #skyfire fic #aurora stark #dad!tony #iron dad #step dad steve rogers #stony #stony fic #boyfriend harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #superfamily #harry styles #tony stark

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juleswolverton-hyde · 5 years ago

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Confessions of a Coffee-Eater | 02

Genre: Smut, College/University AU

Pairing: Student!/Poet!Namjoon x Student!/Poet!

Warnings: sub!Namjoon gets a handjob in the classroom during a lecture, allusion to smoking

Summary: It is in hard times beautiful things can occur and the addiction of primal instincts be suppressed in their proximity. However, when two souls from different social worlds meet in a poetry class, any former urges gain a new direction.

Some of which are sensual in emotion.

And may not be reciprocated.

Masterlist

Previous part / Next part

There is a lyric which dictates that “sorry” seems to be the hardest word and last night while pondering a way to offer sincere apologies for the unintentional harassment the true meaning came forth as the song played on the radio. Replayed itself again and again as a pen twisted between fingers free from the engraving ink on skin, waiting for any potential customers. The last of the twilight cigarette smoke dissipated before settling into the corner of the back office to catch a few hours of sleep since the last hours of the night shift are dead in business.

The sole idea is offering a cup of anything but fantastic coffee from one of the machines spread around the building and hope a listening ear will be given to a remorseful poor man from Ilsan. A concept that becomes more and more terrifying with each step advancing towards the university building outside the city centre that both students and professors complain about, especially with having to attend and give morning lectures.

The cafeteria is bland like the rest of the dated interior which makes one think more of a high school than a proper academic environment, the only attempt at enlivening the area being the crisp white picnic tables standing in a neat row against an ugly brick wall between the stairs and the guard’s booth. Across from the still empty benches sits the wronged woman, engrossed in noting something down and thus not paying any attention to the anxious onyx beanie passing by towards the tiny coffee corner.

Ignorant to the split second of stopping to simply gaze for a little bit at how flowing hair falls over the shoulder clad in nighttime fabric, the outfit of the day not out of place in an office as the blouse on top of monotone pants and made more interesting with golden accents in the form of a belt and watch radiate a chic mood.

She’s way out of my league. But still, I have to apologize.

Bearing the thought in mind, begotten in that instance of allowing romantic fascination without perverse intent to overtake body and soul, the debit card with little money on it is used to pay for two cappuccinos. Fortunately, last night’s tips make up for the expense so some groceries, later on, will have to be paid for in cash.

The coffees in hand, slowly the table at which Y/N is still working on something is approached while trying to keep breathing under control and composure steady. Notwithstanding, it crumbles to reveal a hint of panic when the busily scribbling pen is put down and eyes look from the page to the steaming cup of caffeine to a well-meaning man in a denim jacket beneath a grey vest with a brown collar.

A slim finger points at one of the bright yellow cups on the table. ‘Is that for me?’

‘Y- Yeah.’ A hand automatically rises to rub the back of the neck, gaze slightly averted to hide cheeks burning as the temperature inside seems to rise. ‘I want to say sorry. For yesterday, because what I- I shouldn’t have done what I did bu- but I couldn’t-’

‘Namjoon. That’s your name, right?’ The inquiry halts the apologetic stammering waterfall likely leading nowhere, a brief nod confirming the assumption. ‘It’s fine.’

‘But I looked at-’

‘Really, it’s okay.’ A welcoming hand gestures casually at the chair of which the back has been unconsciously gripped tightly, knuckles turning white. Strangely, though it could have been due to still being half-asleep, the same motioning fingers appear to want to reach out but can barely withhold themselves. A silly idea, judging by the even voice continuing to speak. ‘Have a seat. We still got a bit of time before we need to go. If you want to, of course.’

Without a second thought, any outerwear is draped over the offered seat before rapidly plopping down. Apparently doing so with much eagerness for a stunned breathless laugh escapes the girl about to take a sip of the peace offering. ‘Thank you, Miss.’

‘Miss?’ An inquisitive eyebrow raises, the unconsciously made mistake only realized too late.

Lips part in panic, wanting to protest yet all words fail to string themselves into a proper excuse. ‘I- I mean- I didn’t mean to- Y- Y/N, I swear I-’

‘Namjoon,’ kind digits wrap around the nautical map covering tensed muscles bared from beneath denim, ‘take a deep breath. Like that. There you go. Good b- Good.’

The slip of the tongue is laughed off, locks shaking slightly in unjust embarrassment fueling a heart truly wanting to shrink before vanishing from the earth entirely.

Or so it did want to, the warmth in the chest now spreading its rosy glow throughout while repeating the error over and over mentally.

I’m pleasing her. She wanted to say I’m her good boy. I can be. I am. I am your good boy, Y/N.

‘Uhm, are you alright?’ The digits that retracted in a fashion wrongly perceived as trembling reach out again, slightly shaking the feather resting eternally on skin. The warmth of the palm perfectly enveloping it is comforting, a steady beacon guiding consciousness back to reality.

Away from the perverse thought of that same hand pinning an absent-minded poor soul to the mattress in the same manner. Henceforth, albeit with a suppressed jolt of surprise as if waking from a dream, sight gradually focuses on the beautiful woman wearing a concerned expression. ‘Huh, what?’

‘You were spacing out.’ A whimper can barely be silenced before being made audible at feeling the light squeeze asking for attention, fast-beating heart skipping beats. Once again distracted by the contact and the lips that want to be experienced from up close instead of far away.

Yet sharply sane enough to muster a half-hearted excuse blaming the morning for the ridiculous behaviour. ‘Oh, ehm, yeah. I’m fine. It’s early.’

What am I doing? She doesn’t know me and I don’t really know her. I need to get a grip on myself.

‘Fortunately, there’s coffee to wake us up.’ The worry melts away into gentle kindness, leaving digits creating a cold wake as they wrap around the bright yellow cardboard cup bearing the university’s logo. But not chilling the honest man turned into a lovesick puppy mimicking the normalcy of drinking coffee while ignoring the pooling heat below.

We still have some time and I can’t move until I’ve calmed down. She shouldn’t know what she does to me, not yet. Not... ever.

‘Can I ask you something?’ To keep the conversation flowing, an innocent desire appears to form the lead to follow. Awkwardly shuffling to hide the strain in jeans, voice is kept as steadily as possible regardless of shyness overtaking demeanour slowly.

‘Sure. Fire away.’

‘What were you penning down earlier? I- I saw you... uhm, just now- I saw you write something in your notebook.’

Why did I stutter? Why is she looking like that? Oh God, what do I do?

‘And you don’t suppose it actually has to do with the course?’ The sarcastic chuckle on the rim of the cup has a strangely flattered undertone, almost to be called endeared.

Withholding innermost personal emotions.

That circulate beneath the indecipherable surface of breathtaking affectionate irises locking gazes with genuine curiosity. ‘Why would it at this hour? It’s just a random thought more than a poem but then again, so is all my poetry. If it can be even called that.’ However, all playfulness fades into under-the-breath muttering as melancholia takes over and Y/N’s focus moves away to finish the cheap warm drink. ‘Just an amalgamation of thoughts.’

A loathsome sight to a boy with love for a woman whom he barely knows yet wants to ensure the happiness of.

Without being aware of it, a hand glides over the thigh clad in obsidian as speech becomes urgent. ‘Hey, don’t talk like that. I’m sure it’s good.’

And moves away as if burned by fire when the intimacy is noticed thanks to a tilt of the head, enchanting eyes leaning to the side in rather odd fascination. ‘Oh God, I’m so sorry. Still, may- No, what am I saying? Y/N, I didn’t-’

‘Namjoon, it’s alright.’ Softly smiling fingers brush over shivering honey skin, gliding over it and drawing intricate calming patterns over inked stories to still the panic. ‘I don’t mind.’

‘Y- You don’t?’

‘No, I don’t. Please, say what you wanted to say.’

The bottom lip is briefly worried between teeth, a sigh rolling off the tongue when deciding to speak up at last in spite of wanting to disappear, be swallowed whole by the onyx beanie hiding earthly brown locks in dire need of a cut. ‘May I read it?’

‘Promise you won’t judge? You seem to know a great deal more than I about the genre.’ Mayhaps unaware of it, the palm resting on the place formerly deemed forbidden is enveloped as much as possible by a smaller one as a tiny thumb caresses the back of it.

Thus for a few seconds stretching into moments we sit, newly met strangers already of a bond with one another that does not touch grounds with that of lovers nor mere friends. It is of a different indescribable nature, testing the waters of uncharted territory.

But it feels safe.

Trusted.

Like a safe haven the map on the arm leads to.

She is my anchor.

Which is shown by flipping the tables enough that Y/N’s hand rests between those of a poor sod from Ilsan on foreign soil. And it takes all inner strength to not put it on the cheek, to bask in the kindness. ‘Tell you what, I’ll let you read mine if you let me read yours. ‘Fair?’

The last sip of coffee is quickly gulped down before answering with the same confidence that shines bright in illuminated irises. ‘Fair.’

That dim when noticing the time. ‘We have to go.’

For nine o’clock on a September Tuesday will always be too early to analyze poetry.

But never too soon to see her.

‘Let’s go.’

Nine o’clock on a September Tuesday will always be too early to analyze poetry.

But never too soon to see him.

To lean against the deep-voiced mixture of nicotine and cologne wearing glasses with a thick black frame that others shun, ignorantly afraid of the person they deem a delinquent. However, they cannot see the gentle soul beneath a prejudiced exterior, not feel the fast stiffening of muscles that melt away at a pleased hum.

‘Are you still awake?’ A low giggle resonates in the baritone inquiry, having a chance to talk in a short ten-minute break after processing a ton of poetical and theoretical analysis.

Judging by the sloth-like sensation spreading throughout, the information might not be committed to memory until notes made on the automatic pilot are read through. ‘Barely.’

‘Want to get another coffee?’

‘Mhm, I’d rather sit here.’ A pleased smile naturally carves itself into lips. An odd thing to happen, but there is something in the subdued scent of soap beneath the heavier aromas of musk and tobacco or perhaps the combination of the three that creates a small piece of happiness. ‘Thank you.’

‘For what?’ Regardless of not being able to see Namjoon’s face, lashes fluttering shut, the quizzical look can vividly be imagined behind closed eyes. And it enhances the sense of kind joy, glad to be in the company of a good friend.

Or more. No, less. What are we? What do we mean? Hm, doesn’t matter now. Gods, should have drunk another espresso before heading out the door.

‘For letting me lean against you like this.’ As a sign of honest appreciation and to be more comfortable, the warm tribal jungle of aquatic blue and emerald green is further snuggled up against. ‘I like it.’

‘Don’t fall asleep, though. We’re halfway there.’ For a split second, there is the curious wish or, rather, expectation for the statement to be sealed with a chaste kiss on the top of the head. Withal, to unjust disappointment, it does not come for. It would have been absurd if it had, of course.

And yet the desire keeps gnawing on the inside.

‘If I do, please wake me up before the professor sees.’ Fortunately, inner sensations can be suppressed by taking on a playful tone barely shy of badly lying. Nevertheless, a sudden memory of a promise erases the thought of being like this outside of the university, huddled together on a couch.

Or between the sheets.

The timid giant spent in the arms of a girl turned weirdly mischievous as of late.

Eyes languidly open, brought back from the equally as sudden and vibrant recalling of the awkward shuffling to apparently hide the endearing hardened shape in jeans. Voice remains even, luckily, when reminding the buff sweetheart of what is due to him as well. ‘Oh, right. I promised I’d let you read my new poem. Hold on, let me grab my notebook.’

Perhaps thanks to the fear of being caught red-handed with furiously blushing cheeks, locks immediately duck under the table to rummage around the backpack that is hardly filled with anything. Notwithstanding, the opposite is acted out until the rampant thoughts of a racing heart have calmed down.

Only to almost start anew when bumping into Joon’s hand upon rising from beneath the piece of furniture.

‘I- I didn’t- Just making sure you wouldn’t get hurt.’ Swiftly, composure crumbles appealingly into haphazard helplessness as the shield against injury is retracted while actively trying not to stutter.

‘Much appreciated. Truly.’ To quiet the doubt in the fellow poet’s behaviour, an assuring tone naturally slips into soft-spoken smiling speech. And works effectively as a rapidly breathing chest falls slower.

Once more, comfort is sought by leaning against the jungle-shaded arm, leafing to the correct page before closing eyes again with the risk of falling asleep. ‘Here you go.’

Without waiting for another cue, Namjoon starts reading the poem in the only manner one should read poetry.

As much shame as it may cause.

It has to be done out loud.

‘Youth shouldn’t think

About Death yet it

Contemplates its very

Existence and the relation

Between them.

Why fear something distant?

Distant.

But incredibly close.

Lurking in effervescent ever-

Present shadows.

Waiting patiently.

For Age.

For Chance.

For Fate.

For Opportunity.

For Time.

For Me.’

A breathless laugh attracts the tall man’s attention. ‘What?’

‘Nothing.’ In spite of partially meaning to mock oneself for the quality of the writing, the sudden outburst is mostly due to the surprising effect a voice, Namjoon’s voice has on the piece of writing. A hand unconsciously comes to rest on a muscled thigh, basking in the warmth and the slight movement leaning into the touch by pressing it against the one secretly wanting more. ‘I just like the way you read poetry. You have a good voice for it. It’s nice to listen to.’

‘Y/N,’ breath hitches in a beautiful whimper when the palm moves slightly upward, ‘people are looking.’

A shrug dismisses the worry, not bothered whatsoever by the ones who have silently cast a peer out on grounds of appearance. None would admit this outright, of course, but it is obvious in behaviour during seminars and lectures. ‘Don’t care.’

‘What if they think we are... you know... together?’

‘We’re all adults here, grownups with a sense of what a relationship entails. Besides, does it matter? Let them think whatever, Namjoon.’ As languidly as a cat, eyes open again to blink a few times before looking up at a flustered tanned face. Mayhaps a misperception, but it seems closer than before.

He looks adorable. No, what am I doing? Focus! He read your poem, so this is not the time for fantasy.

Moving away a little bit from the intoxication caused by the combination of musk and tobacco, enhanced by the sensation of a big palm enveloping the one wandered more towards the inside of denim, speech is endeavoured to be made steady. Nevertheless, the attempt only succeeds in part as careful guidance testing the waters beneath the table leads to an intenser heat. ‘But what did you think of it?’

And ends in boldly being spread out across clothed hardened skin of which the ego rapidly grows breathless. Especially more so when willingly applying pressure, thoroughly enjoying the parting of plush lips risking being heard and expression contorting into laboured concentration. ‘Come on, don’t be shy.’

‘I- Is this what you, ah, ehm, think about in the morning?’ Hips slowly rock against the offender, seeking the desperately needed friction as skin begins to pass the state of glowing and grows dewy.

‘“I was a woman who thought of dead things. All the time. I couldn’t help it.”’ Enough mental stability can be gathered to manage a blank stare signifying ignorance as to where the applicable quote stems from. Forcefully, the ability to pay attention is compelled to be enhanced as the waist is suppressed with a smirk into sitting quietly on the chair. ‘Ah, ah, ah. Sit still before someone catches you. Lidia Yuknavitch said this in The Chronology of Water: A Memoir. And I’ll be honest, I got that quote from Tumblr.’

‘D- Don’t stop.’ All attention is returned to the movements below that have not stopped in the meanwhile, teeth biting down on the lower lip succeeding in nullifying the groan that wants to become audible.

‘Break time is almost over.’ Time for contact is running out, the chatty professor pacing back towards the lecturer with a steaming cup of cheap coffee. Every second ticks away faster, but the steps in the race towards craved oblivion are too little. On the other hand, it would be a just punishment for the public brashness.

‘Could we- Can we g-get lunch? Together?’

‘Is that what you want? What you think about?’ The absurdity evokes an amused low chuckle, truly finding joy in seeing the tough yet submissive poet struggle. ‘We just met, Joon.’

‘Y- Yet you let m- me do this, Miss.’ Digits free from tribal ink wrap around the wrist, willing it to remain out of sight beneath the table without stopping.

What are we doing? We’re basically strangers. But... he held my hand and now we’re doing this. We both want this. This is ridiculous and yet, with the way he calls me that, the power is intoxicating.

And held onto a tad longer, mischief triumphing long enough to find pleasure in the whine at being left hanging high and dry after the squeeze that could have invoked embarrassing euphoria. ‘Not for long, bad boy.’

‘Alright, so! Where were we? Ah, right, why rhyme pleases.’ The professor has returned from the momentous coffee break fully, yellow cup empty and the little caffeine forming enough fuel to make it through the last three quarters filled with poetic analysis.

Forty-five minutes of swatting away secretive undecorated hands trying to find release, as shameful as it is, by themselves.

To, perhaps, play the part of the devil to the end.

And maybe, just maybe admit to something.

To desire bordering on young love.

To a tribal jungle and nautical map on muscled buff arms.

To him who is clearly struggling.

To Namjoon.

#hyunglinenetwork #thekimlinenet #ksmutclub #BTS #BTS smut #BTS x Reader #Namjoon #RM #Kim Namjoon #Joon #Confessions of a Coffee-Eater

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nozomijoestar · 6 years ago

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I had an idea for Violentine eventually getting married and because society as we know it has been dead so long they just get creative about the whole thing

Also time jump from the end of the game and Texas Two is now Big, AJ is a preteen, Clem and the older of the former kids can now pay their taxes if those were still a thing

BGM if you like that when you read, lyrics here

“Been a while huh Tenn? Everything’s so busy these days I haven’t had the time. I’m sorry.”

She sat cross-legged on the partly overgrown ground. A small wreath of fresh flowers hung from the top of a cross. The wood was faded and weather-beaten, but the name carved there could never leave her memory. From her pocket she pulled a paper, unfolded it, then placed it. Violet sighed, even her smile seemed exhausted. Her eyes threatened to brim over with tears she thought she’d long left behind.

“AJ made that for you. He’s gotten a lot better at drawing you’d probably love it. He’s a little past your age now. Shit I’m, I’m taking too long to get to the point aren’t I?”

The breeze picked up making the trees rustle as though they communicated the will of ghosts. She looked around. The crosses had multiplied through the years, each one a new nick on her heart. She chewed her lip and fiddled with her bun. Now wasn’t the time for death. Her stomach churned butterflies. A genuine smile bled into her voice.

“I wanna ask Clem to marry me. Just saying it out loud feels weird and amazing all at once. I honestly didn’t think she’d want me this long but life kept happening.”

In one motion she laid spread eagle and stared into the pink clouds that signaled dusk. She closed her eyes as another sigh fell from the trees. The sound of people beyond the graveyard drifted in voices, laughter, and song. Though the years since there’d been largely silence were gone she could never shake a need to be prepared. Even if the walls had expanded far past the former Ericson gates, danger never slept. It was something Clementine loved to reinforce.

The thought of the way her face went stern and her voice deepened made Violet chuckle. She rose to her feet and dusted herself.

“I should get a move on. It was great talking to you again.”

After a final readjustment of the wreath she passed through the yard. A flag decorated with many stitches flapped in the wind reading ‘Texas Two’. Sometimes she looked up at it and still laughed at its ridiculousness. Though since she’d been responsible for it, that was the same as laughing at her old self. Her old self, she pondered, the Violet who hadn’t dared to entertain the thoughts she did now. When had that person changed? She didn’t think she’d ever know.

Inside the old admin building echoed a section of Chopin’s ‘Winter Wind’ in A minor. The anxious dance her nerves were doing calmed. Louis would be finished teaching piano lessons for the day. Her stride became confident. If she was going to make a sappy fool of herself it would be out of public view. Of her old mannerisms she could at least keep that one.

He sat continuing to play though he knew she’d come by the pattern of her gait. His lack of a tongue elevated a need to pay notice to the finer things in other ways. She leaned against the doorway and folded her arms. They carried on in silence. Violet closed her eyes again, taken by her imagination. The shrieking highs and nervous lows seemed to pull every worry she’d ever had like threads off a loom.

She saw Clem’s head bashed open like a ripe fruit, or the paling of her bite ridden skin and its missing chunks. Right behind it came the thought of AJ’s neck dyed red as he took Tenn’s place at the bottom of a herd and picked clean. Their home at the bottom of smoldering ashes. Worst of all above the extremes, she would bare her soul for Clem greater than she already had to see her spirit fall. In one moment for some reason or other everything they’d made of love would fracture, and Violet might as well quit the venture entirely.

As if reading the tone of her thoughts the music stopped. Her eyes reopened to find Louis scribbling on a scavenged notepad. With a grin he turned it to face her. His eyes twinkled with their unquenchable charm.

‘That get your attention?’

She tucked her raw feelings back into their cage. The processed version rolled off her tongue.

“A little too hard Lou. Guess that means you’ve graduated from sucking.”

She finished with a soft laugh seeing him flip her off. The way he wiggled his eyebrows told her he found it funny. He gestured for her to come over and made room on the piano seat. She sat with her hands folded and stared nervously into her lap. Her stomach churned while the words she wanted to find were slow to come. At the touch of his hand on her shoulder she shook her head.

“It’s nothing bad I’m only overthinking again. I just...tonight I’m gonna propose. I want to. What do you think?”

He smiled and stared wide eyed filled with glee. A rush of air she guessed equated to a gasp came as he clapped. It made her blush and seem sheepish curling into herself. The sound of Louis scribbling excitedly refocused her attention.

‘About damn time! I almost thought you’d never bring it up. My advice, take her to a spot important to you guys. Get her thinking about all the deep stuff you’ve done together. If you’re really feeling it serenade her. That’s what I’d do.’

“I want her taking me seriously not laughing her ass off. By now my singing’s gotta be shitty.”

‘Oh come on Vi, live a little. Singing or not the point is you may never do this again. Make it a memory. You two were doing just that all this time anyway.’

Violet sighed and rested her forehead against the piano, defeated. The keys she pressed let out a wail. Another note was put before her.

‘Don’t sulk tell her how you feel. Clem’s gonna love you more than she already does.’

“...How do you know she won’t say no?”

He cocked his head and interrogated her with a bewildered stare. Her stomach sank; her voice had been whiny like a child’s. In the end, she was being silly. It made the confidence she’d mustered drop in shame.

‘We don’t know Vi but if she’s stuck around this long it means something. Clem’s the kind of girl to take off if she really didn’t believe in what she sees.’

She groaned and the keys played an ugly sound.

“You’re right. I’m being a coward. I fucking hate it. I thought that side of me was done with.”

‘It’s ok to be scared. This is a big deal! You know how you’re guaranteed to fuck it up though? Having a negative attitude. Positive vibes Vi, positive.’

“Yeah yeah. You’ve given me an idea. If you see her tell her to come to the bell tower tonight. That it’s urgent.” She said with a lazy smile.

They bid each other goodbye leaving Louis to start up the piano solo of Kreisler’s ‘Liebesleid’. He’d reached halfway using a laser-focused concentration when another, larger presence filled the door. His deft hands stopped. Clementine smiled and clapped as she walked towards him. Without a moment to waste he ripped out the used pages of his notepad; they were stuffed into his coat pocket. It didn’t go unnoticed when Clem raised an eyebrow but gave no comment.

She stood balancing her weight on her natural leg and leaning against the piano. Were she anyone else, even Violet, Louis would’ve sooner scolded her for lacking manners. He looked down to find her prosthetic ( a newly improved design of Willy’s built with higher mobility in mind ) still in good condition.

“Caught ya.” She said giggling.

He looked up at her strong face, thick eyebrows, and overwhelming mane of curly hair. She had a stern beauty that always caught him by surprise for its rarity and strength. Violet sure knew how to pick ‘em.

‘Wanted to make sure your foot was ok. Doubt Willy would screw it up but still y’know?’

“Thanks. Listen Louis...are you free for a little while? There’s something I wanna talk about. I want your honest opinion.”

A glint in his eyes betrayed his excitement. His gut instinct gave him an inkling of what hovered unsaid. He almost laughed at the coincidence of it all. She slowly sat at his invitation and fiddled the keys. After a meandering pause she cleared her throat; he wore a grin.

“You know Violet and I have been together a while now. Longer actually than I ever thought possible. I’m grateful for it everyday. It’s sadly not something a lot of people can say. That’s why...I don’t know if this is still the right word but, I want her to be my wife.”

She stared at him and twiddled her thumbs. Rarely had he seen her hesitate, much less be meek. The sight made him sit up straighter, listen harder. From the corner of her eye she caught his expectant stare.

“I guess regardless of what it’d be called these days that’s what I want. She’s too important for me to lose. It’s time she really knows it and how I feel.”

For a moment she gauged his face for the slightest reaction. The intensity radiating as if a conjured aura from her body reminded him of someone constipated; he again fought a laugh. It was as though she resigned herself to a do or die mission. A determination not a far cry from what she summoned up before a supply run. In his opinion, they both were taking this to lengths so ridiculous it bordered on comical. That however would remain a secret.

He nodded with enthusiasm and that seemed to lighten her worry. On his notepad this time he thought hard before writing.

‘It can mean whatever you want it to Clem. You love her, that’s the most important part. I say go for it. Any plans on how you’ll ask?’

“Well there’s really only one way right? I have to tell her outright, just not sure where to do it.”

‘Y’know she asked to meet with you tonight on the bell tower. There couldn’t be a better spot if you ask me.’

“Did she? That makes this easier.”

She sighed in relief and rested her head on his shoulder.

“I love her Louis. More than she might know.”

‘Tell her not me.’ he said with a smile.

After dinner the night air blew warm embracing the essence of summer. Clementine found Violet pacing in front of the ladder they’d once helped construct. She remembered seeing her like this then too, anxious over everything turning out right. Her suspicion turned on and her eyes narrowed in concern. She had yet to be noticed from a distance.

In seconds that weighed like minutes she sighed and mumbled to herself.

“Alright Clementine all you have to do is talk. Sure Clementine, like it’s that simple. You’re stalling now. Get yourself together.”

“You sure don’t mind keeping a girl waiting.”

Violet’s voice seized her attention from the grasping hands of her thoughts. Before she could say another word laughter filled the silence. It made her blush even as she frowned in mock irritation.

“I didn’t think you’d notice.”

“I wouldn’t have if we weren’t the only ones here. Feelin ok?”

“Yeah just was wondering what’s on your mind to have us meet at this place.”

She smiled feeling a kiss on her cheek. Violet wore the look that always came when an idea longed to burst out before it drove her mad. Clementine slowly trailed her eyes up and down as though they were meeting for the first time anew. The demure air in her posture broke the obscuring fog of Clementine’s own nerves. Her expression softened into a look of curious wonder.

The streaks of moonlight cast across Violet’s face bent her grin toward the mysterious. She ran her thumb over Clementine’s knuckles and gestured at the ladder.

“Come with me and you’ll find out.”

Above them the stars filled the horizon into an infinity none would ever measure. The moon aided their brightness and bathed all it touched in an ethereal glow. The ground beneath her feet shined as though she walked on a river of silver; as though she were weightless. A breeze carrying the scent of flowers and wood-smoke, of life below, rustled Violet’s hair. Clementine felt her heart thud louder.

The bell tower had remained untouched through the years save for a few new cracks and crumbling bricks. Vines entangled a section of broken stone railing, the same as the first night they’d sat together. She dared to imagine the ghosts of their old selves caught in a roller-coaster of teenage emotions; each burning more intensely than the last into love. They stopped and leaned against the railing beside the spot.

They were gazing at the sky when Violet spoke first; her thoughts tumbled from her like a waterfall. A part of Clementine was relieved.

“So uh, Clem, I wanna be real honest with you. These past seven years went by so fast some days it feels like my head’s spinning keeping track. All this below us? All these people? If you’d told me before we’d be dealing with this I’d have called you crazy. Hell, if you’d told me there’d be a time where I could have nights not having to worry something would break into the school, I’d never believe it.”

She took a break to breathe and look over the dozens of smaller lights in varying buildings that stretched into the pushed back treeline. Each one signified a condensed hope and dream from those it kept warm. Their numbers lifted Violet’s spirit to continue. Clementine stood mesmerized, her eyes trained to Violet and Violet alone. It was as though each word revealed a deeper truth than the last.

“We wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for you. I know you can say it was a group effort, it’d be true, but you’re our motivation. I don’t think I’d be half the person I am today if I hadn’t met you and AJ. Point is...remember when I said once I couldn’t imagine life without you?”

“...Of course. It took me completely by surprise.”

“I still feel that way. Clem, I want you in my life till it ends someday.”

The breeze stirred into a mild wind as Clementine’s eyes widened softly. She stumbled to speak then went silent when Violet leaned closer. Her entire body pleaded a need for recognition, as if another chance would never come again.

“Marry me.”

Without hesitation Clementine pulled her into an embrace as their lips met. Her hands wandered to cup Violet’s face and not let go. They pressed together and sunk slowly to their knees. When at last they separated neither cared if anyone below had seen. Violet’s eyes shut in bliss feeling a gentle stroke on her chin and kisses peppering her face. There came a whisper on the verge of tears into her ear when Clementine hugged her tighter.

“You beat me to it you ass.”

“Heh, I can still keep you guessing.”

“Troublemaker.” came the reply with a grin.

AJ stood watching Ruby arrange bundles of wildflowers with the same care she gave all things. Though only twelve he’d nearly reached her height. He’d lost some inches shortening his hair to a buzz cut hidden beneath Clementine’s faded baseball cap. It was something he continued to be reminded of when Ruby’s motherly presence loomed so large.

“Hey there shorty could ya give me a hand? These bouquets can get real messy.”

“Sure, but it’s Alvin Junior.”

“I know I know. Reminding me ain’t gonna help us no faster. I’ll tell Clem if you do good.”

That made the hint of sourness in his expression bloom into an excited smile. Around them a small team of five busied themselves with the same task. They moved as Ruby directed to arrange each in a circle open only at the northern and southern sides. A myriad of colors blue, white, orange and so on occupied the center of the restored sports field. AJ sweated hoisting another bundle for the ring and nearly dropped it. Wordlessly Ruby caught it before it hit the ground and with that the last of it lay in place.

They stepped back performing a final check several times until Ruby proved satisfied. On a clear spot amidst the flurry of activity around them (an army of chefs led by Omar; Willy’s team arranged benches) AJ rested. A sheen of sweat covered his face and exhausted eyes. The first clue he’d received for what lay ahead came when Louis slipped him a note and a wink at breakfast one morning. ‘Congrats on the new mom kid!’ he hadn’t understood what it meant; a part of him still felt he didn’t even when Clementine explained that no, weddings weren’t something you ate.

As he felt the day’s work burn in his muscles he concluded whatever it looked like had to be worth the aches. He spotted Aasim approaching with a squirming bundle in his arms; AJ sprung to his feet. Every lecture he’d ever received on slacking echoed in his mind in unison. Aasim towered over AJ’s stature exuding an almost regal air were it not for the slight gruffness of his beard. In his shadow AJ straightened himself and stifled a laugh when a baby’s hand swatted his chin. His stare spoke of a sense of urgency matched in his baritone voice.

“Have you seen Ruby around AJ? It’ll be her turn to look after Susanna during the ceremony. Seems like that’ll start any minute now.”

“We worked on the flowers together but after that I’m not sure. Maybe she went to check on Clem and Vi-”

“The brides are ready Aasim, just had to go fetch ‘em after their fittins’.”

From behind them Ruby appeared with a blushing Clementine and Violet in tow. She pressed a kiss to Aasim’s cheek before reaching for the baby.

“Guess everything’s ready. I’d have come sooner but we had to finish cataloging that cache of recovered books in the library.”

“It’s alright I’ve got her, you just focus on those two. Lord knows they’re eager to get started and I don’t blame ‘em.”

Susanna piped up in her mother’s arms and stretched a hand toward Clementine.

“Ba!”

“Hey there Susie you doing ok?” Clementine cooed as she let her nose be patted.

“Guuu-ba!”

“Looks like you’ve got a way with kids that aren’t AJ too.”

“Well Vi she’s not Auntie Clem for nuthin’. Go on and say bye to Auntie Clem and Violet, Susanna.”

“Baaba.”

They waved in parting as Ruby left for the quickly filling crowd. Dozens well over a hundred sat chatting among themselves; more than a few stole curious glances to center stage. A hundred and so on more joined soon after. Clementine felt Violet graze her arm and gesture at a dazzled AJ. His eyes held awe that grew when Clementine pet his head.

“Ruby told me you were a real help goofball. I appreciate it.”

“You guys...you both look amazing...”

“Thanks kid. The rest of it’ll blow your mind if you stick around and watch.”

Without needing to be told further AJ nodded and made way for the benches; he looked back only once wearing an encouraging smile. The field was bare save for its key players, and the crowd fell into silence. Aasim signaled to take places then addressed those seated with a wave of his arms. Clementine and Violet stared at one another on opposite ends of the ring; Clementine’s grin made Violet blush and stare at her feet.

“Good afternoon everyone! We’re here today to witness the ceremony of a union; one long in waiting. This couple wishes to affirm their love for one another through a promise of lifelong devotion. You may both enter the ring.”

They obeyed having eyes only for each other; it formed a safety net against the pressure of so many others upon them. Softly Violet mouthed “It’s ok.”

“We’ll begin the professions of love. Clementine you may start.”

She cleared her throat and traced over every inch of Violet, of her flowing hair and single braid that whipped up from the back of her tunic in the breeze. The blue fabric lined with white threaded patterns complimented her pale green eyes. A crown of flowers adorned her head. Every detail was memorized.

“For as long as we’ve known each other you’ve supported me; even if you took time to open up. There’re so many moments, so many close calls where I’d never have made it out if it weren’t for you. Each day makes me feel more alive than the last. Not just because of our friends, or because of all we’ve done, being able to know you’re there is enough. I dedicate this dance to your affection.”

Slowly she took a step forward then pivoted into a practiced twirl. A dance of passion sent her traveling about their arena. Sweat flew from her brow and splattered in places on her belt’s spinning tassels. One misplaced step threatened to topple her but slyly she recovered before worry could disturb Violet.

With a grin she launched into a new phase. Her arms spun and, where able, her legs kicked. The movements blended so fluidly few could pinpoint the moment aggression gave way to softness. To even fewer it revealed its heart; a reflection of her lover’s metamorphosis.

There were moves describing sarcastic defenses, cowardly silences, sections mapping the rush from kind words and intimate quiet. As if anew they were pulled into the haze of honest kisses, the whirlwind of lovemaking that went deep into sleepless nights. On occasion they were plunged headfirst before icy fear and protective worry that pricked to the bone. Those moments would be quickly broken by a return to memories of the warmth in living.

Almost instinctively the full result of a week’s practice strengthened its control as she neared the end. Her mind sank into an empty plane, speaking only what little remained unsaid through her rhythm. When it was done the sight of Violet brimming with tears told her everything. Wordlessly she gathered herself then bowed.

Aasim stood in entranced silence. The edges of his solemn eyes had grown misty, defying his self restraint. He gestured and caught Violet’s attention away from her thoughts.

“Feelings have been expressed that require an answer. Violet, you may give your reply.”

“I’ve heard them. Clementine you taught me it’s alright to feel; that holding everything in and running from help is what makes a coward. Choosing who I want to be in life by learning from others is a gift that takes courage. You kept trying even when I wanted to shut you out. I’d never seen anyone so dedicated. Because of you I remembered the people who care about me, away from the ghosts I wanted to chase. I dedicate this dance to your strength.”

This time the was an elegant start defined by tight turns and precise footwork. Each move linked firmly to the last and the next. Clementine’s chest tightened as she watched; her breath caught in her throat. Within the dance she felt herself be peeled back. There was the Clementine she saw herself as, steel willed and cautious, in places fragmented. It morphed to show the rare moments of worry and the storms that wracked her in anxiety. In a few moments that still churned her stomach she felt a lurking shadow of the cruelty that’d tumbled so easily from her whenever she’d been cast astray.

Her body grew hot, her shoulders heavy before she saw the dance shift and the feeling passed. There was a return to gentleness and the power in mercy. Like glittering bubbles memories flooded her mind fresh as they days they’d been reality. She’d cried and screamed and torn her hair each time someone had been lost; yet she pressed forward hopeful. She’d witnessed distrust seize people’s eyes as they coveted rather than strive for understanding; yet never closed her ears to humanity. She’d cried awake sunken to the floor and teeth grit replaying each life she’d taken, each selfish need she’d served; yet her remorse was proof she retained a soul.

Tears trickled down her face, and she felt not a care to stop them. The sensations of the present returned only when Violet had finished. In an instant that moved in her vision like slow motion she was embraced. Aasim’s voice grounded her beyond the sensation of Violet’s heart beating in time with her own.

“We have witnessed them speak to each other’s deepest self. In this they have found unity, and taken hold of that which they seek for themselves in another. It is time for the final step. Let them now dance together and display the bond when two become one. Music for them, if you’d all please.”

Clementine felt Violet shift against her the crowd clapped a beat.

“You ready?”

“Yes.”

They took up position smiling through their flushed faces. The dance moved slow and contemplative as if longing to savor each moment. All else began to fade replaced by a rhythm that held a peaceful trance. Neither kept track of how long they swayed until Clementine said,

“Why don’t we show them what we’ve got?”

“Ready when you are partner.” Violet replied grinning.

In one motion they separated still holding on by one hand, throwing themselves into a spin that ended in a twirl. Violet laughed finding herself again in Clementine’s arms then out once more. She took her turn twirling Clementine, her eyes sparkling and heard racing. They spun holding each other then separated to link arms each facing the other’s back but continuing to lock eyes. It prefaced another separation as they spun alone only to jump back together. At this they laughed.

Violet’s vision was filled by the bright sky when Clementine dipped her then leaned close. Violet wrapped her arms around her neck and pressed their foreheads together.

“I love you.”

“Love you back.”

“Promise?”

“Hell yeah.”

Their kiss found Clementine with hands roaming her hair but she didn’t care. A ways away the roar of the crowd filled their ears. Beside them Aasim clapped and wiped his face. He turned one last time to project his proud voice.

“I present to you all a married Clementine and Violet! May they have a happy life together.”

“That better not have jinxed anything Aasim.” Violet teased with a snicker.

“Shut it and go have fun with your wife. You guys deserve it.”

“Thanks for all this, really.”

“Keep treating her right Clem.” he replied smiling.

The after party blew quickly into a spectacle. Louis had attracted a cheerful gathering as he played pieces back to back. Clusters of people filled the admin building to the seams; further groups had piled into the school yard. The campus in its entirety lay at the heart of town from which hundreds of simple houses, storage, and shops fanned out. The multitude of guests had been guaranteed with more passing colorful banners AJ had overseen.

A few carried weathered but functioning instruments, guitars, harmonicas, large and small drums. They formed a small band that led the tune of those dancing in the yard. A sizable banquet had been prepared from their surplus; beside Ruby chatted with Aasim while Susanna sucked on her bottle. From the balcony at the admin building’s face Clementine stood observing. Out of her regal wedding attire she nearly blended into the revelry were it not for her commanding presence.

Any tension soon melted from her when she felt Violet’s arms around her waist. She smiled and leaned into the nuzzle against her neck.

“How’s it feel? Thinking of anything?”

“I was wondering how things are closer to the wall and that group we sent out a day ago.”

“You mean Randy.”

“None of us can afford him screwing up. He’s been very...vocal lately. It’s giving me bad thoughts.”

“Hey none of that ok? Today’s our day to celebrate, we can worry about later when it comes.”

Clementine closed her eyes and pressed their foreheads together.

“Where’s AJ?”

“With the other kids. Us grown ups are too intense for him right now. I don’t blame him, he seemed happy though.”

“I can think of one reason to justify that.” Clementine teased in a husky voice, her hand wandering below Violet’s waist.

“Clem not while everyone’s around.” came the reply followed by a giggle.

“Just teasing. We can go over it all later.”

“In that case you’ve got my interest.”

“Really? How about something like this to start.”

She pulled Violet closer and leaned her back against the railing. She studied the way Violet tilted her head as their lips met; saw the beauty in how her hair framed her face. Slowly she traced her fingers along her jaw, welcoming the feel of Violet grabbing a fistful of her shirt. They broke off at the whistles thrown at them from below. One glare and eye roll from Clementine silenced them. Violet chuckled. Her arms wrapped lazily around Clementine’s neck.

“I’ll never forget today.”

“I hope not. If you ever do I’ll remind you.”

“Heheh, yeah.”

The music and chatter came to a sudden halt with a banging at the yard’s iron gates. Shocked dancers parted a pathway for a team in neat ranks, their boots marching in step. A man with a thick trimmed beard and thicker hair led them and adjusted the grip of his spear. It had a long curved edge akin to a beast fang and tassels that jiggled in time with the pistol on his belt. The well kept armor he wore, decorated in the motif of a cougar as his rank allowed, enhanced his bulk. His burly arms were defined by gnarled scars that betrayed his continued Old World hobby of rigorous exercise.

He signaled a stop by raising his fist and was immediately obeyed. His beady eyes stared at Clementine without faltering. She read the challenge within them clearly and stood stiff backed,unwavering. From the crowd she felt multitudes looking to her in surprise that yielded to fear. Beside her Violet’s expression hardened and simmered with open disgust. The man spoke, his voice embed by a natural cunning.

“We’ve returned from our expedition with a generous offering from the community to the west.”

“Welcome back, I trust everything went well along with it.”

“Yes, yes of course. Nice to see we’ve been missed.” he said letting a sarcastic bite slip into his tone as he looked around.

“C’mon Randy we can talk about this anywhere but in front of everyone. There’s no need to put on some kind of show.” Violet added.

His eyes studied her in frayed patience then flit back to Clementine. He made a gesture and his group dispersed.

“Sure I can be civil and play house with those wearing the big pants. Let’s have a private chat.”

He disappeared into the admin building. Clementine sighed deeply and let herself slacken. Tenderly Violet touched her hand, she took it without hesitation. She stared into the sky gathering herself until at last all her courage was summoned. With a nod she followed Violet’s lead into her office, something more animal than man fast approaching.

#twd #twdg #violentine #my writing

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bxxpbxxprichie · 7 years ago

Note

bichie soulmate au, maybe?

Part One / Two / Three

My favorite of the soulmate AU’s is where whatever you write on your skin appears on your soulmates. However, a friend and I expanded on this a long time ago and included bruises and scars are shared as well, so GUESS WHAT I’M DOING

Modern!Soulmate!Bichie

Warnings: Hickies, mentions of sexual actions, jealousy

Richie was never a fan of writing on himself. On occasion, he would see doodles on his own skin, and sometimes even notes, but he never really responded. He didn’t want to know who his soulmate was, really. He felt like he was too young for that, he just wanted continue on how he was and eventually bump into whoever he was meant to be with once he was out of high school.

On days things did show up on his skin, they were usually in inconspicuous places. Like his thighs, or his stomach. Notes usually were scribbled on the palm of his hand but were gone within hours, which made him assume his soulmate had sweaty palms. Didn’t matter to him, much. He didn’t like seeing the scribbles on his palm or the doodles on his legs. If anything, they made him feel sick.

It was pretty much frowned upon to be with anyone but your soulmate. But, Richie was with someone. People did it all the time. Really, so long as you haven’t found your soulmate things wouldn’t be bad. But especially after the first kiss was when things got worse. After the first kiss if you try to be with anyone else your body revolts. Richie wasn’t ready for that. He wasn’t ready to give up Eddie.

The shorter boy had scribbles on him all the time. That was the only reason Richie knew that they weren’t meant to be. He constantly had notes on his arms, stick drawings of birds on his hands, and one day when they were around fourteen, he gained bite-marks on one side of his face. It had been shocking, to say the least, to look up from his place on Eddie’s floor to see blood running down the boys face, and he hadn’t even noticed.

So, the two weren’t meant to be. And it genuinely had taken a long time for Richie to convince him, but Eddie finally caved and admitted his crush on Richie. They’d been together for about two years now, and were nearing graduation. Richie knew what Graduation meant. The split. They were best friends, sure, but Richie was head over heels for the boy. He just hoped things would be okay between them.

Richie himself had a number of scars from his soulmate. Around the time of Eddie’s bite marks, he obtained a cut on his eyebrow. He also had a lot of instances of skinned knees and elbows. He had given his own soulmate a small cut on his nose. One time he’d been punched in the face and it resulted in his glasses breaking. The scar was small, and he could cover it with his glasses when he wore them, but more often than not he didn’t. He got contacts when he was sixteen and preferred them over his glasses, unless he was sick, feeling lazy, or literally just when Eddie told him he preferred his glasses.

Speaking of Eddie, the boy was currently under him. Richie’s lips were attached to Eddie’s neck, working at it as gently as possible. Eddie always got onto him when he got too rough. He was apparently ashamed of his soulmate knowing that he was getting busy with others, even though random hickies would show up on Eddie’s own skin. It sort of pissed Richie off, because he knew those times upsetted Eddie, but then it only spurred him to attack his boyfriend.

This was one of those times. They’d just taken a shower together, and while getting out nice hickies appeared on the other’s hips. Richie liked the way they looked on Eddie’s skin, really.

“Do it, Rich.” Eddie spoke.

Richie didn’t need any more incentive. He marked up his boyfriend for the first time in two years. He knew it was really out of the other’s pain, but he wanted to do it too. He was angry for him.

Before he knew it, the two of them were cleaning up once more, and getting dressed.

He’d acquired his first hickey as well. Of course, he’d gone pretty ham on Eddie’s neck, while he only had one on his neck, and one below his collar bone. He still liked them.

His skin tingled on his neck, and he knew his soulmate was writing something. It made him roll his eyes. He pulled on his v-neck and moved to look in the mirror. The hickey had been circled, and ‘Really?’ was written.

Richie swallowed thickly.

“They speak.” Eddie quips, coming up behind Richie to look at it.

“They do.” Richie nods. They don’t talk too much about their soulmates. It was silly to do it, really.

“Okay, Eds. Let me put on my jeans and we can go.”

Bill was feeling pretty conflicted with himself. Sure, he’d just given his friend a blow job, but that didn’t mean that his soulmate could go and screw whoever. His eyes were trained on the mark on his neck, and he glared at it with disdain.

For years, Bill just assumed he didn’t have a soulmate. He never got responses to anything he wrote or drew on his skin, and no scars ever showed up. For fifteen years, he assumed he was destined to be alone. And then, a little nick appeared on his nose. He had been so excited about it, that he hadn’t even minded the blood running down his face, or the fact that brusies were coming in nicely around his eyes. He had just ran to his mother, and cried from happiness.

Honestly, he figured that his soulmate was just shy, and that’s why he never got responses. That’s why they never commented on his drawings. He always did his best to keep them in places where clothes could hide them, because he was sure his soul mate appreciated that. If they were shy, they probably didn’t want others to know what was all over their body. Even the notes he scribbled on his hands were gone within a few hours. Bill just had a terrible memory and needed it for things like passwords and lists, and as soon as he was finished with it he washed his hands and got it off.

“This s-sucks.” He commented, his eyes shifting over to look at Stan.

“No fucking kidding.” The other boy scowled, scrubbing at his neck.

“Well it’s some s-sort of pay back for you. They’ve been l-living with your hickies for how long now?” Bill teases. His stutter was irritating him, but he was trying to ignore it. It only came out when he was upset, which made it really hard for him to shield his feelings anymore.

“It’s a he. And he told me he’d be busy today, I just didn’t think he meant in this way.” Stan shakes his head a bit and gives up. He moves to his closet and pulls out a scarf to tuck around his neck.

Bill took a moment to look at his boyfriend…friend. They were just friends. It was really cool that he and his soulmate communicated. Honestly, it made Bill a little jealous, but he wasn’t going to push his own to do anything. That wouldn’t do any good. But still, he and Stan had been friends for so long. When they started high school Bill had feelings for him, and while Stan felt the same way they decided to not get too deep into things like that, just so things were simpler when they met their soulmates. Bill had agreed. And at this point they were just friends. Friends who got each other off.

“It’s cool, that you guys t-talk.” Bill tells him.

Stan sat on his bed and started pulling on his boots, “Yeah. I mean we barely do, but-” Stan shrugs.

Bill sits next to him to pull on his converse. “It’s better than the big fat n-nothing I get.” He comments.

“Maybe not.” Stan tells him.

Today they were going up to Bangor for some winter break fun. There really wasn’t much to do in Derry, other than build snowmen and drink coffee or hot chocolate. Stan had the whole day planned out for them. They were going to go to the park for a nature walk first, regardless of how cold it was outside. Then they were going to grab lunch, see a movie, and when it got dark they were going to go see the Christmas lights, and probably end the day cuddling in Stan’s bed.

If only their day wasn’t about to get completely turned upside down.

This is turning into a multi-part sorry not sorry

#bill denbrough #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #stan uris #stanley uris #soulmate au #soulmates au #soulmate #reddie #bichie #stenbrough #steddie #IT #Anonymous

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