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ridhearts · 2 years ago

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A Very Pomefiore Christmas!

I wanted to write something festive with my favorite dorm lol <3 I got dramatically sick while finishing this up a day I have to publish on my phone so sorry if there are formatting issues! I'll fix those later if they arise xoxo

!! information !!

characters: vil + rook + epel

reader: gn!

cw: none!

masterlists ⇿ requests

• • • • • • • Vil Schoenheit - Attending a Swanky Christmas Party

Some people thought being in a relationship with Vil had to be hard. They expected endless critiques about your appearance, micromanaging every piece of your outfit, and endless time under the scrutinizing eyes of the public. Overall, though, they couldn't be further from the truth.

His close eye on your clothes and makeup were really just setups to excuse his intervention, which almost always ended in the two of you subtly matching in some way. Vil respected your boundaries as you set them, and he agreed to leave your relationship without an official announcement at least until you both graduated from NRC. However, part of him was still eager for the day he'd be able to show you off and take you out wherever you wanted to go. Even if he never pushed the subject, sometimes he'd muse about it while you were talking about your future.

He just thought you deserved the world as much as he deserved it. So, when he carefully offered to take you to an upscale Christmas party as his plus one - a party that he assured you was absolutely private - you agreed with little hesitation.

…though that hesitation was coming for you now, amidst the celebrities and other hot-shots mingling in the wide ballroomesque venue. It was a little late in the game for trepidation, sure, but a powerful uneasy feeling was churning in your stomach all the same.

"Don't be too nervous, sweet potato," Vil cooed. He had stepped aside from the center of the room to allow you some breathing room, yet he never once tried to take his arm out of your grasp. You nodded, looking around as nonchalantly as you could and sipping something non-alcoholic and bubbly from a champagne flute. (Did you suddenly wish that you were drinking alcohol? Maybe. But that didn't need to be said right now.)

"It's all so overwhelming," You muttered, quickly remembering yourself and shifting so your posture was straight. Everyone around you was so relaxed, laughing and talking about…celebrity things, while you clung onto Vil and tried to find every excuse not to talk. When you weren't caught up in your thoughts, the mingling was fun. All the people at the private soiree were pleasant and far nicer than you expected most of them to be. But, given a moment's pause, you could feel uncertainty creep up on you before you had a proper chance to breathe.

"But it's nothing you can't handle," Vil reassured. Of course, you knew he was right.

His eyes scanned over the room again, searching for someone to introduce you to again. You mimicked him, looking over the faces before you. These were people Vil trusted to keep a secret, people he was excited to "show you off" to…..the pressure made you a bit nervous. Yet another part of you was excited. Was this really the future you had to look forward to? Warm faces, glittering gold lights, lavish holiday outfits and enough delicious finger foods you felt you wouldn't be hungry for weeks?

At your signal, Vil stepped back into the crowd. He seemed to move so easily, but following his footsteps wasn't too difficult a task. It wasn't long before he was stopped by a woman you didn't recognize - although, to be fair, you didn't really recognize anyone here.

"Helena," Vil greeted, neither warm nor cool in tone. The woman seemed undeterred by this; Vil's apparent aloofness only made her eyes light up and grin widen.

"I thought that was you! Oh, and what a lovely plus one you have," She cooed, reaching out and shaking your hand without waiting for you to meet her halfway. "Don't worry, I know the rules. Your secret is safe with me."

"To what do we owe the pleasure?" Vil asked, as if he could feel you fighting yourself not to look to him for help. The energetic woman clapped her hands once, for emphasis.

"Oh! Of course! I don't mean to bother you, I just had to see for myself."

You raised an eyebrow. "See for yourself?"

"Well, you see, when Vil makes public appearances, he's normally cool as an ice queen," the woman explained. Then she turned to Vil. "But tonight, something about you seemed so much more approachable. Warmer. Perhaps it was presumptuous of me, but I wanted to let you know that you were giving me ideas."

Before either of you could press further, the woman was called away and disappeared into the crowd with a wave. You allowed Vil to pull you away before asking, "Who was she?"

"A casting director," Vil explained. Nodding, you thought for a moment before gasping.

"Wait. If she thinks you look more approachable, does that mean-"

"Not necessarily. It's best not to get our hopes up, you know," Vil chides gently. But he wasn't doing anything to hide the satisfied smile on his face.

Carefully, you gave his arm a gentle squeeze. "I'm rooting for you."

Vil turned towards you, and you saw what the woman was talking about. His clear eyes glimmers in delight, and the golden lights and baubles around the room seemed tailor made to cast a golden aura around him. "And that's all I need."

• • • • • • • Rook Hunt - Keeping Presents a Secret (Or, Well, Trying to)

"Paper or Plastic?"

"Actually, can you just put it in here?"

"Oh, reusable! I'm so glad that's catching on."

The friendly cashier took your tote bag - the one resistant to stealth magic and snooping spells, Sam said as you lamented a month's worth of savings to purchase it - and slipped your purchase inside without comment. You did your best to look cool, physically restraining yourself from drumming on the counter nervously while you looked out of the large storefront windows. As far as you could see, nobody from school followed you into town, and you tried to keep your scheduled outing as secret as you could. Unfortunately, you were trying to dodge the nosiest, if not the stealthiest, student in the entire NRC population, so your eyes were not necessarily the best metric to use.

The cashier handed you your back, along with a receipt. "There you are! Happy holidays."

For a brief moment, you considered asking her to keep the receipt, but if Rook really was following you then he'd find a way to sneak a peek at it without ever raising suspicion. After crumbling it up, you threw it in the bottom of your bag and zipped it firmly shut, waving over your shoulder as you walked briskly out of the shop.

This was easily the most stressful time of year. Even if it was your first holiday season dating Rook, you already knew nothing would be harder than finding a decent gift and keeping it secret. Plus, his birthday was only a few days ago, and the holiday shopping craze was at its height. How he expected anybody to amass a sizable enough list of gifts he wanted and keep it all a secret was beyond you.

It was all made worse when you told Rook that you wanted to keep his gifts a secret. You were hoping that he would respect your wishes and lay off his regular snooping, or maybe even thank you for your careful consideration of him. Instead, he took it as a challenge and increased his efforts to figure out what you bought for him. You thought you managed to throw him off but locking random rooms and closets in Ramshackle, prying a few already-loose floorboards a bit more loose, and leaving cabinets open to make him think you had carelessly revealed your hiding place. You even placed a ladder in the dorm and spent some time falsely rummaging around in your bushes, just to trick him into looking in pointless places. The ghosts were on your side, keeping an eye on Rook whenever he was in your dorm and noting when he got too close to your hiding spot. Still, he was bound to find out eventually - if he hadn't already and was just toying with you.

All you needed to do was wrap this final gift. Then, it wouldn't matter if he found your small collection of gifts. He had too much honor to rip into the paper before his last day on campus. That was all you needed: to get home, to wrap this present, and to hide it away with the rest of the wrapped gifts. Then you would be free from this never-ending nightmare of hiding something from the Rook Hunt.

Your brisk pace got you home quickly. Before entering, you stomped your feet on the porch to shake the snow off your shoes, announcing your arrival once you got home. With the holidays drawing closer, paranoia was getting the better of you; you hung your tote bag up by the door, closed all of the curtains you would pass on the way to your hiding spot, then stopped at a few fake spots, just in case Rook was watching. Grim walked down the stairs and paused halfway, watching you pace back and forth with an uninterested stare.

"What's the big deal if he knows what he's getting? Didn't he ask for all this stuff?" Grim asked.

"Some of it is supposed to be a surprise," you reasoned. "Especially this."

Grim watched you take the box out of the bag. "What's so great about a-"

"Shhh!!!!" You hissed, clutching the box to your chest. "What if he's listening?"

Grim rolled his eyes, but didn't dispute your fears. Not wanting to waste any more time, you jogged as lightly as you could to your mudroom. Between all the old boards and broken furniture you stored there to the best of your ability, there was just enough room for the washer and dryer, plus the old, broken dryer in the corner. Usually you used it as a table to fold and sort your clothes, or a place to put your hampers while the washer was running. However, now it served a covert secondary purpose: the hiding spot for your unwrapped gifts.

No sooner did you shut the dryer door than a knock on your front door sounded. Startled, you shot straight up and rushed to cover the dryer as naturally as possible before running to answer. Rook beamed the moment he saw you, soft and powdery white flakes of snow sprinkled over his hat and shoulders. You invited him into your dorm before he could bow and spout dramatics that would force you to stand and watch, freezing you solid in the process.

"Ah, merci! I've faced lower temperatures than this, but how can the frost feel anything less than biting when such tender warmth stands before me?"

"Alright, alright," you said through giggles, helping to unwind the scarf around his neck. Despite the fact that he grew up in the Sunset Savanna, you were sure he could withstand the cold without bundling up. It was a joint effort between you and Vil to get him to wear a coat at all, much less a scarf and gloves. He refused to wear a hat for warmth instead of his regular hat, and any headbands or earmuffs that hindered his hearing were met with equal opposition. Still, he shivered a lot less now than he used to, even though he denied ever shivering in the first place.

After he slipped out of his coat, Rook settled on hand on the side of your face and kissed you. He didn't have a chance to change from his outside gloves to his leather ones, so his palm was warm against your cheek. Trying your best not to smile and break apart from him, you reached your own hands up and settled one on his shoulder, the other loosely grabbing his wrist.

He didn't pull very far away before grinning at you again. "Mon coeur, I have a strange request for you "

"Oh? Let me hear it."

"It appears the snow has made my socks uncomfortably wet. You wouldn't happen to be able to dry them for me, would you?"

Against your best efforts, you tensed. No way he knew. This was a coincidence! It was all a coincidence and you were acting weird for nothing. But Rook was watching you shrewdly, the way he did when he figured out something he had been working at for a while. Shoot!

"Uh- I…just put a load in, I'm afraid!" You tried to cover for yourself.

"But I don't hear the dryer running?"

Double shoot! "Ah, the darn thing is broken again! You know Crowley, always going for the bargains."

"Well it's no trouble. You've already welcomed me into your home! There's no reason to force you into housework I can do on my own."

"NO!" You shouted, stumbling to stand between him and the door. Rook widened his eyes, though his expression melted into something more amused seconds later. "You can't go in there! Because…"

Rook watched you expectantly. You sighed. "Because there are some delicate unmentionables air-drying in there that I don't want you to see."

Rook blinked at you before chuckling warmly. You could tell that he knew just as well as you did that your cover was weak, but it seemed watching you squirm was enough to keep him out of your mudroom. For now.

"Ah! Far be it from me to intrude upon the fair prefect's privacy! My deepest apologies." This time he did bow, taking off his hat and pressing it to his chest. Still, you could hear his soft laughter even as he tried to keep it down. You and the ghosts would be fighting to keep the door to that room shut the entire time he was around.

…but, at least he didn't know what was hiding in the broken dryer. Right?

• • • • • • • Epel Felmier - Christmas Treats Aplenty!

“Whichever disobedient pup has forgotten to entirely prepare for this lesson, you have three seconds to fix the problem before there will be consequences.”

There wasn’t time to freeze. Almost frantically, you elbowed both Ace and Deuce, and all three of you bent to search through your bags and “make sure it wasn’t your phone going off.” They were lying, however, and helping cover you from embarrassment in class. It was your phone incessantly buzzing, which you turned off as fast as you could. The three of you sat straight in your seats again at the same time, clasping your hands together and looking forward like cherubic model students. Professor Crewel watched the three of you for a few moments and, deciding not to disrupt class any further, turned to continue his lecture.

After breathing a sigh of relief and silently thanking Ace and Deuce, you subtly checked your notifications and saw Epel sending you link after link. Opening the messages, you were assaulted with a barrage of links to holiday-themed desserts and pastries, along with a few nonsensical notes that he was typing himself. Home recipes, maybe? Before you could get caught - or, rather, before Crewel decided to do anything about your misbehavior, you put the phone back in your bag and made a mental note to stop by Sam’s shop for some more flour.

Epel was waiting for you outside of your class, rocking on his heels like an impatient child. He wasn’t looking at the doorway as you emerged: rather, he was looking down the hallway, probably to see if Vil was coming for him. You greeted him with a small ‘hey,’ followed by Ace and Deuce behind you arguing about something. If he didn’t already have plans he was itching to get to, you know he’d try to join in with whatever they were roughhousing about. Instead, he stepped up to your side so they couldn’t drag you away.

“Epel and I are gonna split here,” you said loudly. Deuce turned his head to wish you farewell, but Ace took the distraction as a chance to bat at him. Sighing, you jerked your head in the direction of the school shop and led him away from the imminent carnage.

“Did you get the recipes?” He asked once you set foot on the sidewalks. You sighed and gave him a half-serious glare.

“Yes I did, and they almost got me detention!”

“If you didn’t have your ringer off, that’s on you.” You stuck your tongue out at him.

“So, which of the recipes were you wanting to make?” Epel looked up at you like you were crazy.

“Which one? All of them! Vil has us all on strict watch, so I need to eat everything that sounds good while he isn’t around.” To accentuate his point, Epel swiveled his head back and forth to look for signs of his housewarden.

“Well, I certainly hope you’re planning on chipping in to buy all the ingredients. Otherwise, you’ll have to pick.”

“Of course I am! I’ll even help you carry everything back. Just give me the heaviest bags - or better yet, give me all of them!”

—

The kitchen in your dorm was getting stuffer by the moment, the heat from the oven almost stifling as Epel set yet another tray of cookies on your counter. You sighed, spooning dough into the last of the cupcake liners and barely finishing when Epel snatched the pan out from beneath your hands. He set another alarm on his phone before turning to another cookie dough behind him, stirring it a few times before deciding it was ready.

"Here, try this," he said, holding up a small spoonful of the dough. You did your best not to make a face. After all the baking you've been doing, everything you taste-tested started to taste like plain sugar. Your stomach was rumbling too, hopefully upset from the amount of sweets you were eating and not from a newly developed case of salmonella. Still, it was hard to deny him when he was so excited about gorging himself on christmas cookies and pies while he could escape Vil and before he would be subjected to apple-related desserts only back home.

So you opened wide and let him feed you a spoonful of dough, pretending to mull it over for a moment before nodding and giving him the thumbs up. Just as you expected, it all tasted vaguely sweet. Epel was convinced, however, already placing the dough balls an inch apart.

“What are we going to do with all these cookies?” You mused, leaning against one of the counters. Despite your apron, your clothes and hands were covered in flour and subtly sticky from unruly egg yolks. You flexed your fingers, trying not to look at the sink overflowing with dishes.

"We eat them, duh," he answered, as if he couldn't believe your response.

"All this? Even Grim would get a stomachache."

"Then we can give the extras to Ruggie or somethin'. I don't know." Shrugging, Epel paused and looked up at you. He seemed to remember himself and slowly, bashfulness took over his expression. "I…Thank you for lendin' me your kitchen. And for helpin'. I didn't mean to intrude…"

You couldn't stop yourself from laughing. Vil's lessons in manners must have been effective enough for Epel to remember, yet when they came to you in his country accent, you couldn't help but think it was adorable - not that you would ever tell him that.

"I'm not mad. We should just be wary of our excess when we're working undercover." You walked past him and pressed a quick kiss to his head. "I'm going to go wash up. I'll be back in a minute."

"Alright!" He answered, watching you walk up the stairs. Once you were out of sight, he hurriedly pressed two balls of dough together and shaped them into a roughly shaped heart.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #rook hunt x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #epel felmier x reader #twst imagines #twisted wonderland imagines #rook hunt #vil schoenheit #epel felmier #twst #twisted wonderland #oops! blatant rook and vil favoritism

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sneezefiction · 4 years ago

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my turn

atsumu x reader

desc: you get a back massage from a gremlin your fiancé

a/n: @gahdam-beb hollz, thank you bunches for this cuteness! he absolutely would give good back massages. may or may not have gotten super carried away here – i meant for this to be like,, 200 words. not proofread & it’s all lowercase :,)

warnings: language, mentions marriage, mentions stabbing (i promise this entire fic is pure fluff though)

wc: 1.3k

—

so maybe the couch isn’t the best place to sprawl out on.

but you could hardly make it through the apartment door, much less all the way to your bedroom.

a leg dangles limply off the side of the worn-down sofa while the rest of your body merges with the cushion. the smell of pizza from last night’s takeout lingers on the soft material. an air conditioner unit whirs on and a chill streams across your skin, making your hairs stand on end.

unfortunately, all the throw blankets are either in the dryer or on your bed. and your fiancé? well, Atsumu is nowhere to be seen.

you sigh into a pillow.

it’s not every day you feel deprived of his presence. the blond is a lot to handle and he has a habit of bringing chaos with him wherever he goes, whether it’s a quick jaunt to the kitchen or across the country at a volleyball game.

but you can’t help but miss Atsumu, his chaos included. you’re quite endeared to him, actually.

i mean, there’s certainly a reason you’re wearing that silver engagement ring.

but right now it’s not just him that you’re missing. it’s those warm hands of his.

they tickle and prod and they’re not the softest things in the world... but they sure make for a back’s best friend. if you could wish for anything right now, it would be a back massage — for someone to rub and smooth away the tension of another long day.

but he’s not supposed to be back for another hour.

you shut your eyes, choosing to nap until he eventually walks through the door... but a tapping outside keeps your ears perked at attention.

the steps grow heavier in the corridor and, alongside that noise, your heart starts to thrumb louder too. you got off work early and your neighbors don’t typically come home til late... so you’re definitely not expecting anyone.

soon you realize the footsteps are just outside your door.

your heart jumps as the door clicks open and, from it, a rather refreshed-looking Atsumu emerges.

you thank the couch gods that it’s just him.

you would’ve rather been stabbed than defend yourself — you’re too tired to deal with that bullshit. but you’re glad that the universe hadn’t sealed your fate just yet.

“i’m home,” he calls, drawling out the words, “did ya miss me?”

you acknowledge him with a pitiful groan into the couch. it was an attempt at saying “yes” but even you aren’t sure of the unholy sound you just made.

“i don’t speak gremlin,” he chuckles.

you lift your head, shooting him a look.

“that’s unfortunate since you pretty much are one,” you say, dryly.

his jaw drops.

“i’m gonna tell ‘Samu you said that. we have the same face, y’know.”

okay, maybe you should be a little nicer if you want him to put his hands all over you... in a nonsexual way... at least for right now.

you don’t respond to him.

but that doesn’t stop him from talking.

“did somebody have a bad day?” his voice is high and he juts a lip out, taunting you.

you frown violently (if that’s at all possible). yes, he’s joking, but his face looks a fraction more slappable now.

“not particularly,” is your somewhat honest answer.

he shrugs off his jacket, the fabric tussling as he tosses it onto a wooden coat rack. there’s a clink of keys and the plop of a wallet on the countertop.

soon, those heavy steps you heard from outside are treading in your direction until he reaches the corner of the couch – right where your face is. without any hesitation, he sinks into a squat until you’re at eye-level with the giant.

you don’t move an inch, but even though you’re irritated, you kind of wanna kiss him.

“you’re home early,” you mumble, instead of grabbing his face and crashing your lips into his.

Atsumu tilts his head, “i wanted to surprise ya ‘cus i knew you’d be off early.”

he looks annoyingly attractive under the dingy living-room light. where are his dark circles? why are there no wrinkles on his forehead?

you, on the otherhand, probably look like a sloth on its last leg... arm? sloth appendages are confusing and you’d rather not think about that right now.

“is there anything i can do for ya?” he asks, softening at your grumpy expression.

yes.

“no.”

why are you making this difficult for yourself? it’s obvious you’re not doing too hot... and you really want that back massage – your muscles are practically screaming at you for relief.

he leans in closer, brushing his knuckles across your exposed cheek. they’re gentle on your skin.

“are ya sure?” he asks, his voice just above a whisper.

okay, sometimes he’s sweet. but only sometimes.

“can... you give me a massage?” you mumble through pouting lips.

a gentle smile forms on his lips, “yeah.”

he stands, long legs replacing the space where his face once was. Atsumu then shuffles to your side, but it takes him a moment to get situated.

the couch dips as he places a knee on either side of you, straddling your hips. Atsumu makes ass-to-ass contact. the most romantic of positions.

you squeal as he crushes you beneath him.

“oh, c’mon i’m not that heavy,” Atsumu snorts.

“says the guy who’s not actively being squashed into a couch.”

although you’d rather this than the burning ache under your skin.

he grumbles under his breath, but you choose to ignore it. suddenly, fingers are pressing deeply into your upper back and grazing your shoulder blades.

a quick gasp escapes your lips and you instantly regret it.

his deep chuckle shakes his body and, in turn, yours too. thankfully, his lips stay sealed.

you wish you could see that little smirk of his, as much as it bugs you, while he works his magic on your tight shoulders. there’s something so charming about that lopsided grin – it’s part of why you love him so much.

he adjusts again, accidentally kneeing you in the side.

“shit! be careful,” you jolt, warning him.

he smooths a hand down your hip and mutters out a genuine “sorry,” atoning in both word and deed.

in doing so, a metallic coolness brushes against an exposed patch of skin, making you shiver. you peek over your shoulder to see what it is.

it’s the ring on his finger...

and suddenly you can’t fuss at him anymore.

instead, warmth travels steadily throughout your body and his palms burn against your skin.

how can you be marrying him and still flush over the silliest things? in your defense, the ring is a relatively new thing in your relationship. it throws you for a loop anytime you catch sight of it.

Atsumu kneads firmly into the tissues, loosing stubborn knots and waking up your tired skin. his hands are large and stable; like a potter to unshaped clay, the digits mould and shape and indent.

slowly, but surely, your body relaxes and your mood lifts. a soft, virtually undetectable smile is on your lips.

Atsumu could be hellish and rude and a brat about the oddest things. he’s pretty gross and always tries to hug you when he’s dripping sweat. you’re also certain, positive, without a shadow of a doubt sure that he’s the more disagreeable twin.

but you’re probably the only person who can put up with him.

and he, you.

it’s a good thing you found each other... and even better that you can both give great back massages. it’s likely that’s what’s preserving your relationship.

hopefully, that same tactic works in marriage too.

you hum to yourself and your eyes, already drooping, finally close. Atsumu softens his touch, tracing the curves and contours of your body, lulling you into a hazy state.

Atsumu, rough and tumble as he is, could be gentle when he wanted to be — a side of him that easily made you see stars and super novas where only golden eyes and blond strands exist.

at some point, you think you feel a ghost of a breath against your skin.

maybe even a pair of lips pressing to your neck? you’re a little too out of it to tell.

but as soon as you find yourself drifting off, his hands peel away from you. it’s like you just lost a piece of yourself because you’re desperately searching for that missing warmth.

you whine in protest, turning to face the cruel man. after such a long fucking week, he chose to stop. and you were almost asleep too.

but that bastard.

that disgustingly adorable bastard.

he’s smiling as wide and bright as the milky way. there’s not even a hint of guilt.

“my turn,” he directs through a waggish grin.

alright, he’s slappable again.

—

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya #atsumu #ass-to-ass contact #amen am i right #i'm a genius #(this is sarcasm)#anyway sorry for what you just read #i typed this in an hour #let me know if u think i could make atsumu even /more/ annoying #because i think i can #the number of times i wrote ‘couch’#is too many

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fabricated-misslieness · 4 years ago

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Hey, can you do a Dazai x Port Mafia Executive Male Reader. Where reader is Dazai former partner before he gets replace by Chuuya and instead of Chuuya coming for Q and fighting Lovecraft its reader instead. Readers ability is like Shigaraki from bnha.

Dazai Osamu x sadistic!male reader

Ngl I was a little confused cause the last time I watched bsd was months ago.

Also made the reader sadistic because yes. i forgot the reason

Part 2

Requested: Yes

Word Count: 3859

Warnings: Mentions of suicide (Dazai stuff ofc), angsty boi

“You want me to pair up with this rookie?” You gesture in the vague direction of Dazai. You know he’s there, but you don’t act like it.

Dazai huffs, offended by your words. He crosses his arms. You weren’t giving him the best impression and if you were going to be partners, he at least had to tolerate you enough to keep his head on his shoulders.

“Now, now,” Mori chides with a sweet tone. You don’t trust the guy, he may act kind, but you’re sure he hides something with that kindness. “He’s already a port mafia executive.” You roll your eyes, he was only one of them because he witnessed the old boss handing down his title ‘willingly’. You seriously doubted he did do it willingly, seeing as it was a mere few minutes before his death. That sort of coincidence belongs to a movie.

“Like I don’t know that.” You shake your head. “Fine, fine, I’ll be his partner. I only want to know what he can do. He has an ability, doesn’t he?”

You finally acknowledge his presence, turning to him and sizing him up. Dazai is flustered by the gesture, but he pretends to act calm and collected, something that works with that young poker face of his.

“Yes--” Mori is interrupted by the executive himself, who is eager to show off.

“Yes, I do.” Dazai replies, uncrossing his arms. “But what’s yours?”

You furrow your eyebrows. Abilities are wide and unique, ranging from psychological to physical to straight magic. Knowing your ability could be a part of his ability. You were to work together so he’d know either way, but at the moment, you wanted to know his weaknesses.

“That’s valuable information.” You crack your knuckles and stretch, pretending to prepare for a fight.

“No fighting in my office.” Mori reminds you. “Or the building, for that matter. One of your abilities is particularly destructive, and we don’t know what you could do. Go to the training area if you’re going to fight.”

You give both of them a smirk, “Who says I was going to fight? I was merely enjoying the look in Dazai’s eye.”

Dazai frowned, quickly fixing his composure. It’s true, he was a little intimidated and he did not mean to let it show.

“You’re quite sadistic, aren’t you?” Mori chuckles, shaking his head.

“That’s one thing right about me, boss.” You smile brightly. Dazai furrows his eyebrows and examines you. That smile of yours is sickeningly sweet, almost mocking. You look like a monster, but maybe that was part of your act. He’d know your ability in no time.

“Well, as partners you do have to know each other’s abilities. I picked Dazai specifically for you.” That gave each of them a hint to each other’s abilities, more to Dazai than anything.

You nod letting out a sigh, “Do you have anything you don’t want, Mori?”

Dazai quirks an eyebrow, interested in the peculiar question. Mori nods, nudging forward a tongue depressor, those big wooden popsicle sticks, one he could very well spare.

You pick up with all but one finger, your middle finger, holding it up for both of them to see. “Do you have anything for the debris?” Mori slides a metal tray towards the edge of the table.

“Pay close attention, Dazai.” You give him a glance before looking back at the stick, putting your final finger on it. It disintegrates in a matter of seconds, turning into pieces so small that they look like ash. “What’s yours?” You turn to him.

Dazai seems to shrink under your gaze, but he keeps a stoic look. “Put your hand on my arm.” You raise an eyebrow. Does he wish to experiment with your ability or is it part of his?

You put your hand on his arm, once again with all but one finger. You don’t trust him, that much is clear.

“Trust me.” The look he gives you is genuine, albeit the smile is devilish, though you oblige all the same.

Your eyebrows furrow when your ability has no effect. The skin doesn’t disintegrate, nor does it fall apart as usual. “That is my ability, No Longer Human.”

“And that is why I paired you two up.”

You huff a little angrily once you realize. His ability stops other abilities, what triggered it you didn’t know, but that wasn’t the most important thing for you. He paired you two up to have him be your control. You don’t need anyone to control you and you don’t want anyone to control you. You want to do you and you do not want this boy to hold you back.

You open your mouth to protest but Mori interrupts you. “This is my decision and mine alone, you cannot say otherwise.” As much as you want to mess up his pretty face, you couldn’t disobey the boss.

“Fine.”

As time grew on, Dazai had become a friend, though sometimes he felt like more than a friend. Despite your early refusal to the idea, you’d really warmed up to each other.

Dazai, the young bastard, was also quite the prick at times. Though you couldn’t really complain about his age since it turns out you’re within the same age range. While he was a prick, he was also caring, as you’d come to learn.

Sometimes he’d hold your forearm when you were touching something, even though over the years you’d built up the habit to not use your middle finger. Every time he did so you would laugh and it would somewhat fluster you, you’d tell him you didn’t need it and without fail he would say “Just in case.” It was nice to know he cared, and the other little gestures he would perform were even nicer.

You were known for being a little sadistic, taking joy from inflicting pain for no reason. When he’d hold you back from attacking some random lackey at the time it would make you angry, but a few minutes later you’d be grateful for it. After all, that lackey wouldn’t be very useful with an injury.

Though sometimes even he couldn’t hold you back. When you’d start a fight with another executive just for your enjoyment, he was quick to be there and keep you in touch. Perhaps you did need control after all.

The other executives were rather thankful for Dazai, as you chose someone to pick on every week. Something you hated about Dazai was that he was immune to your mockery. He got used to it from your partnership and he couldn’t be hurt by your ability. But you supposed it was for the better, the other executives were starting to get really annoyed by you.

Except everything changed when Nakahara came along.

Although your partnership was relatively new, you found comfort in each other’s companies. You protected each other’s weaknesses and complemented each other’s strengths; so when the news came along that Chūya would replace you as Dazai’s partner, both of you were a little ticked off, per say.

Dazai’s first impression on the newer rookie didn’t help their relationship. Chūya annoyed him to the very ends of the Earth and he did not want him to replace you. It wasn’t just Chūya either, he’d grown very fond of you. Sometimes he couldn’t even fight without you; He was used to you being there to back him up, though this detail he would not tell you.

In time, you didn’t look like the monster he’d thought you were in his first impression of you. You actually looked sweet.

Your smile, which for everybody else would be sadistic, turned out to look more endearing to him. Everybody caught onto the fact that the smiles you’d directed at him weren’t the smiles he’d show others. Somehow you hadn’t realized it, but he had.

You’d grown to like him, dare say crush on him, which was something you denied. His triumphant smile after the end of a mission and the jokes he’d make as you fought were always the highlight of your day.

None of you wanted to give up the other.

“This is his decision and his alone, we cannot say otherwise.” You mocked, making Dazai snicker. The fact he used the same words was quite ironic, really.

Tomorrow marked Chūya and his first mission together, so you’d dedicated this day to each other. Dazai did not look forward to tomorrow, and as much as he wanted to vent to you about Chūya’s very abundant annoying qualities, you’d both promised not to talk about it.

The news of your separation had made both of you realize your growing crushes for each other. You were no longer in denial, though you loathed the idea… but when you really thought about it, you didn’t loathe the idea. Musing to yourself about hugging him, playing with his hair… thinking about the fact that you did in fact like it made you gag.

As the night neared to an end, your guts told you to tell him. You wouldn’t see each other all that often anyway and if you were never to interact much, at least you would be getting this off your chest.

“Dazai.” You both stared out the window of the HQ, prior to you speaking up you were in an awkward silence. None of you wanted to say goodbye.

He turned to you and you to him. As much as you wanted to avoid eye contact, you thought it might help. “I like you… don’t joke with me.”

Dazai was going to make a joke. It was amazing how much you got to know him in so little time. He smiled, and your hopes raised when you took notice of how it wasn’t pitiful. “I like you too.”

You immediately let go of the breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Where’s the big sadistic lion?” Dazai questions, playfully mocking how meek you are right now. His smile seems more joyful than usual, as it should with what just happened.

You snicker, giving him the sadistic smile he’s used to. “I’m right here.”

Dazai was your anchor in the Port Mafia, even when he plead for double suicide with you. Before you were partnered up, you absolutely despised the place. The other executives and the occasional lackeys were fun to provoke but it was almost as if that was your coping mechanism. You often complained about how awful the Mafia was handled with the previous boss, but he would never change anything. He was an idiot up until his very death.

You thought Mori’s recent ‘crowning’ would change your opinion, but it didn’t change it at all. You still hated the place. It was almost as if their only objective was to keep their hands on Yokohama. You wanted more than that, you wanted the whole of Japan to be your turf.

Mori didn’t want that and while he would take the opportunity once presented, he wouldn’t do a thing otherwise. He was perfectly happy with that and you weren’t.

Dazai was the only reason you stayed, but now the reason had been diminishing. You barely spoke and barely hung out. This wasn’t what ‘dating’ was and both of you knew it.

He wanted to try harder and so did you, but with your current situation, you couldn’t. When he wasn’t with Chūya, you were out on a mission. No, you weren’t jealous. This wasn’t Chūya’s fault nor was it something either of you could control. There were various times you debated on breaking up.

Dazai was the only thing holding you back from leaving, so if you broke up you didn’t have to worry about him. But you liked him and both of you would be heartbroken. You never liked thinking about it, but someday, it had to be addressed. That day never came.

The final day you were with the Port Mafia was the day that you had a brush with death.

You’d called for backup, you’d received none. The henchmen you were commanding left like cowards. To think these were the people you’d trained.

One of your big weaknesses was fighting groups of people alone. These henchmen knew that and they’d run. Where were their morals? Where was their faith, their loyalty? Where was their honor, their pride? It was then that you’d learned the Port Mafia wasn’t your place. These people weren’t your people, this turf wasn’t your turf. They were cowards and you were no coward.

Alone and fighting recklessly, you were down. You refused to flee, and that stubbornness was what caused you to nearly die. Luckily, you never crossed death’s doorstep. The people you were fighting presumed you dead the moment you dropped to the ground.

They were fools but a fool you were too to let your emotions get the best of you.

That day somebody had found you on the brisk of death. They claimed to be a spy and they offered to get you help.

Of course, you accept without asking for conditions. You were dying, what else could you have said? The conditions turned out to be joining his organization and feeding them with information or something equally as important.

No longer would you be associated with the Port Mafia. You were glad to leave them. But your only consequence being leaving behind Dazai, the love of your life and the highlight of the day. It was a hard decision to make that was for sure, but it was either this or death.

You felt selfish.

Months after joining them, the so-called ‘Guild’, your heart ached. Leaving Dazai was your biggest mistake but joining the Guild was the best thing that had happened to you since him. For the longest time, you’d wanted to tell him. You never had the guts to. And then you left Japan to join the bigger part of the guild in North America.

In time you’d stopped thinking about Dazai.

The crew was polite, a contrast from the cold lackeys and executives from the Port Mafia. It’s a nice change, one you wish won’t ever change. But maybe the hope of a different life blinds you from how bad these people really are, their underlying motives and morals, their similarities to the Port Mafia executives.

The guild is ambitious, their leader most of all. They have a turf and the turf is way bigger than the Port Mafia’s, something you’re proud about. You certainly feel better about this place than the Port Mafia.

Your sadistic personality never changes either, and while the others are certainly annoyed by it, they handle it in a different way. They make sure you know that you can’t hurt them severely, or there’ll be repercussions. Maybe not repercussions from the Guild’s rules, but them hurting you back. It’s a nice change, one that gets your adrenaline pumping every time you pick a fight.

The only time you did think of him was in your nightmares, the middle of the night. Those nightmares consisted of him calling you a traitor, betrayer, but that wasn’t what hurt you. They played out scenarios of you telling Dazai.

He’d kiss you, hold you tight, ask you where you’d been, question the new stitches and scars… and then you’d tell him.

His face would be ridden with denial. “No. No you couldn’t have! You’re joking, you’re lying!” He laughs, tries to believe it’s a joke, but he can’t get it out of his head that it isn’t.

“It’s not.”

It’s then that he lets out a sob. He trembles, pushes you away from him, looks you in the eye with a look full of betrayal. It’s then that he calls you names, which stated before aren’t what hurts you. It’s how he looks and what he says next that hurts the most, “I thought you loved me.”

That’s when the nightmare ends. You wake up with tears of your own, they’re hot and sting on your cheeks. You furiously wipe them away, but more keep coming.

You sob loudly, which wakes up John and Lucy. They’re the only ones you’ve trusted with your secret, Dazai. They comfort you the best they can but the most they can do is tell you it’s going to be okay or something along those lines. As much as you try to believe them, you can’t.

Dazai becomes a mere figure of your past. You think of him as unreachable, unattainable, as something you should scold yourself for thinking about.

If you could’ve taken him with you, you would’ve.

Learning that you will go back to Japan because of the leader’s obsession with a ‘tiger’ almost breaks you like your ability would.

You hadn’t thought about Dazai nightmares in the past year, but now you remember him again. You begin to regret leaving him, your heart aches again and your nightmares act up again. Everything gets worse when you arrive in Japan.

War breaks out between 3 organizations but the only thing you can think of is the Port Mafia. It’d been 6 years. Could he still remember you?

You don’t care who wins, you just want this whole thing to be over with. It upsets your ‘teammates’, but you don’t care. Once again, you think about leaving the organization, maybe live a normal life. That sort of life feels far-fetched right now and you know it’s something you’ll never have the chance to achieve. But still, you hope for it.

But then you see him again.

The second your eyes land on him you want to run. His eyes land on you and they must look the same as yours.

It hurts, but you have to persevere. “Hey, Lovecraft?” You glance at the man with the strange ability and appearance. “You want to go sleep, right?” You let out a mocking yawn of your own, giving the two in front of you your signature sickly smile.

“Yes.” Lovecraft replies, voice monotone and deep as always.

“Go get John and leave, get to sleep faster.” You nod in the direction you’d seen Chūya knock John towards. Your eyes stayed on the two in front of you. They both act as if they’d never seen you before, which you’re glad for. You don’t know if you could’ve handled seeing the same look Dazai would give you in your nightmares.

“But Francis and... you.” You’d like to think you’d gotten close to Lovecraft, but really he treated everybody the same because of his ‘contract’ with Francis.

“I’ll be fine. I know these guys’ weaknesses, anyway.” He doesn’t question how you do nor does he protest further and leaves immediately. “Quite the reunion, huh?”

“(y/n)..” Chūya growls. He glares at you, something you’d never seen 6 years ago as his senior executive. He never dared to interact with you. He knew he’d be replacing you as Dazai’s partner and knew about your relationship together. If anything, it was out of pity, and that you hated.

“Chūya.” You reply. “How’s the family, the mafia, the kids?” You mock. Chūya all but seethes, he looks like he’s ready to strike.

“(y/n),” Once Lovecraft is gone, Dazai gives you the look you dreaded to see. “H-How--” He doesn’t know what to say and neither do you. Your smile fades, turns into a frown. You don’t want to fight him but you also don’t want him to take on Lovecraft. As much as you liked the guy, he was a nightmare incarnate.

“Dazai.” Is all that you say. The vague response hurts you both.

“Chūya you might want to do that here.”

Chūya looks back at Dazai, shocked and taken aback. “You want me to do that? Dazai, I don’t think that’s needed and you know how shit that makes me feel.” It’s clear he doesn’t want to give into his corruption.

“You shouldn’t underestimate him.” Dazai speaks with experience, and it hurts you to know that he knows that.

“Don’t hurt him too much, we’re dating.”

“You’re still dating?!”

“Technically we never broke up!”

You laugh, staring at the limp body next to you. Chūya is deep asleep, or knocked out, you don’t know. You never really saw the aftermath of his corruption.

“That was a nice fight.” You remark, loud enough for Dazai to hear despite how weak you feel. Chūya had basically broken both your legs and injured you, but at least he hadn’t killed you or put you into a coma. The pain was unbearable for most people, but it was a simple background thought for you.

“It’s been…” Dazai starts.

“6 years.” You finish for him.

“I missed you.” You’re glad to hear that instead of the words from your nightmares, but you’re sure those words will eventually come.

“I did too.”

“You did?”

You sigh, nodding. “There were plenty of errands I had to run around and do for Francis. That rich old guy didn’t do anything himself. I didn’t think much of you, but I never forgot you. I had my own fair share of nightmares about you, they’re all the same.”

Dazai moves you to lean against the bark of a tree. You look into each other’s eyes, and you can tell that his are pleading. “Please stay.”

You ignore his remark, weakly reaching over to feel his coat. “New coat?”

“Yes.” Dazai grumbles, sitting down next to you cross legged. “Answer me.” He pleads again.

“You don’t want to know why I left, first?” Dazai shakes his head, taking your hand in his and squeezing it, prompting a pained groan from you. He quickly apologizes for it.

“I don’t know if I can.” You sigh, rubbing the back of his hand. You were quite touch starved, seeing as you couldn't really hold or touch anything properly. “If Francis wins I’d have to stay with him. If either of you win, I’ll most likely end up in prison.”

“Join me.”

You think back to the Guild. They were inviting and you thought them to be good, but just then did you think about how bad they really were. You’d known all along but you always refused to believe it. You wanted to be there just to escape the Mafia, you never wanted to be there because it was the guild.

“What was it… the Armed Detective Agency?” He nods. “How would that stop me from going to prison?”

“I don’t know.” Dazai admits with a huff. “Just.. please stay.”

“Okay.” You smile at him. Dazai remembers that smile, it’s burned into his memory and he takes note of how it hasn’t changed a bit. He’s missed it ever since you left. “Would they accept me, though?”

“They will, they will.” He says it as if he were determined, but he knows there’s a high chance they’ll refuse.

Dazai pulls you into a much deserved kiss. Long, gentle, sweet, and full of fireworks, it’s almost like your first. The only thing is it’s a little weak on your end, but he can’t blame you.

“Not going to mention sucide?”

“I haven’t seen you in 6 years, at least let me cherish this for another 2 months.”

#anonymousrequest #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x male reader #dazai x reader #dazai x male reader #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x male reader #bsd x male reader #angst fic #bsd angst

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procrastinatingsapphictrash · 4 years ago

Note

Natasha x reader (romantic) and r spending lots of money to buy gifts for nat just because they miss her for 1000 followers celebration plz

A/n: I wasn’t sure if you meant after a break up where r is trying to get her back or they were dating but not in the same place but I decided to go the less angsty route because I’m in the mood for fluff. And I accidentally wrote too much oops.

Three days of you being on a mission and Natasha is officially bored. She didn’t realize how much of her day was taken up by you until you left and she had nothing to do and nothing to look forward to. It should scare her, how much she’s come to rely on you, but right now the only emotion she can feel is loneliness and worry. She doesn’t know much about the mission other than it’s classified and you would be gone for a month. Before you left she tried to pry information out of you but apparently Fury had caught on to the fact that you tell her everything because you were getting briefed for the mission on the plane.

Tony’s teasing voice brings her out of her thoughts. “Missing Y/n already?”

“No,” she denies despite the fact that she was just thinking about you, “I was just thinking ahead to the dinner with government officials next weekend.”

“So you wouldn’t be interested to know that a package arrived at the compound today addressed to ‘My Tasha’ from Y/n?” he asks, obviously pleased with your use of a nickname.

She scowls at him. “Give it here.”

“I don’t think I-” Tony’s eyes widen in fear when she starts stalking towards him. “What I was trying to say is that I don’t think I have any more time to waste talking to you so here is your package, goodbye.”

He places a small package on the table and leaves the room quickly which Natasha cannot help but be satisfied with. She takes her time opening it, smiling at the wrapping that isn’t quite perfect. Inside she finds a folded piece of paper and a jewelry box. She opens the letter first.

Dear Tasha,

I’m writing this before I leave on the mission so that I can send it but you’re reading this after I’m already gone. I don’t know the exact day that this will arrive but what I do know is that I will already be missing you when you read this. I love you so much and I can’t imagine how hard it will be to stay away from you for a whole month but I know we’ll get through it together.

Love always,

Y/n

P.S. I hope you like the necklace, I bought myself a matching one (sort of, you’ll get what I mean when you see it).

She smiles at the letter and holds it close to her chest before she realizes she’s acting dangerously close to how the girls in romcoms usually are. Moving onto the necklace she opens the box to find a silver chain with a charm that says your name in delicate cursive. The cheekiness of the gift makes her shake her head, still smiling. Your matching version must be her name. It’s cheesy and possessive and everything she would have hated in the past but it’s you and maybe it’s strange but she likes that she can wear your name and you can wear hers. If the others notice when she starts wearing it around the compound they wisely decide not to comment.

A week later she receives another small gift and letter. You tell her about how the mission is going well so far and you thought of her when you saw the book of Russian jokes so you just had to buy it for her. It’s nice to know that you think of her when you’re in the field because god knows she can’t stop thinking of you.

The gifts keep coming, accompanied with short letters. Each one of them makes her smile, the only disappointment being she can’t respond. The packages increase in frequency when your mission gets extended to two months instead of just one. They’re completely random, some cheap and some expensive and all different types but she appreciates all of them. She doesn’t understand how every single one of them can make her feel so special and she relishes the feeling, unused to being the priority in someone else’s life.

Nothing compares to having you next to her though so when the day finally comes that you’ll return from your mission she is practically vibrating with excitement the entire morning. She keeps it cool in front of the team but as soon as you step off the jet she can’t help herself and runs to wrap her arms around you, pulling you in for a kiss.

“That is quite a welcome.” you say once you pull away.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you tell her, “although I’m sure you could tell.”

You notice the necklace you gave her as your first gift on her neck and pull back the collar of your shirt so she can see you’re wearing the one with her name. She reaches her hand out to fiddle with it for a second before leaning in to kiss you again. The gifts were nice but having you here is much nicer.

#natasha romanoff x reader #allie's 1000 followers celebration

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walkingchemicalfire · 3 years ago

Text

5 times Whumpee Heard “Look at me.”

+1 Time They Said It

@whumpmasinjuly Day 9 prompt: “Look at me”

A/N: So this is six snippets throughout a Whumpee’s journey. I’m combining the WIJ prompt with my secret sunflower gift for the greatest person and my dear friend, Fae @whumpywhumper

CW: torture, knives, stress position, tied up, blood loss, bleeding out, stabbed, oxygen mask, intubated whumpee, vague gaslighting, reference to being muzzled, panic attacks, reference to paralysis, learning to walk

~~~~~~

From Whumper:

Whumpee jolts awake at the sound of the keys jangling outside the door. Whumper is back and going to hurt them again. This had been the routine for the last two weeks. Whumper had abducted them and tortured them every day since. It was the only thing Whumpee could rely on.

The door opens and there stands Whumper, twirling their favorite knife with a bemused smile on their face that made Whumpee’s gut curdle in fear. They turn their face away and shut their eyes, trembling in anticipation of the pain to come.

“Ah, ah, ah, Whumpee,” Their voice dripped with false playfulness as they grip their chin and dig their nails into the skin “Look at me.” They demand. Whumpee whimpers but does so, met with the sight of Whumper’s smirk and their blade coming closer and closer until they feel it against their collarbone.

Whumper takes their time moving the steel across Whumpee’s chest, never cutting, although they could do so easily, just gliding it back and forth. Whumpee looks into their captor’s eyes as they stutter out a desperate, “P-please,”

“Aww, begging so sweetly already?” Whumper asks before they flash a wicked grin and slice across Whumpee’s pectoral. Whumpee immediately cries out and Whumper claps their palm over their mouth. Whumpee squeezes their eyes closed so tightly they feel like they might seal them shut forever.

“Hey!” Whumper shouts and Whumpee snaps their eyes open. “I said I wanted you to look at me.” They cut another matching slice on the other pectoral while keeping eye contact with Whumpee. “I want to see your eyes as you fall to pieces.”

~~~~~~

From Caretaker:

Their wrists stung sharply in the restraints over their head. They couldn’t feel their arms, but their shoulders were wrenched up so tightly that was enough agony for a lifetime. But the worst was their back, oh god, their back. Whumpee wished that their back was numb like their arms. In fact, if they're wishing for things, they wish they could go back and not ask for the whip instead of the knife. Stupid, so stupid. All they wanted was to not have the knife again. It always hurt so bad, but that was nothing to the whip. They know better now.

Their toe slips off the edge of the stool and they gasp as all their pain roars to life. Their foot scrambles in the air as their other begins to lose traction as well. Panicked, they look down their body to try to see their target, but their vision whites out and they cant see, they cant see--

“Whumpee!” Caretaker’s voice reaches through Whumpee’s fog “Hey, hey, hey, Whumpee, Whumpee, look at me, look at me!” The voice sounds urgent so Whumpee listens and obeys. They spot Caretaker tied to a chair down below them. Caretaker tries to smile when they lock eyes “There you go, just like that, Whumpee. Just keep looking at me. You can get through this, I know you can, just look at me.”

Whumpee didn’t feel so scared anymore, not while gazing into Caretaker’s determined brown eyes. They are safe with them.

~~~~~~

From Whumper (and Caretaker):

This was the end. They were sure of it this time. Whumper had shoved the blade in too deeply this time. They had nicked something vital and now Whumpee was fading away. They already felt cold, they knew it wouldn’t be much longer, then this hell would finally be over. They would be free of Whumper. That sounded nice.

“Couldn’t just be quiet, could you?” Whumper seethes, standing over them. “Couldn’t just be my good little Whumpee like I taught you huh?” They wipe the blood soaked blade across their shirt. “And now look at me,” Whumper sighs “Having to put down my best, right in their prime.” They shake their head “Such a waste, look what you made me do, Whumpee.”

Whumpee’s vision swims and their head lolls to the side. They see Caretaker pounding on the thick glass window. Their mouth is open in a soundless scream, or at least soundless to Whumpee, their ears aren't working so well right now. They can’t think of why. Thoughts are hard, maybe they should just sleep. Yeah, sleep sounds nice.

Whumpee drifts off, the last thing they see is Caretaker’s fierce brown eyes and their mouth moving to say silently, Look at me!

~~~~~~

From Rescuer:

Something is on their face. It’s covering their mouth and nose and they, oh no, it’s the muzzle again and they can’t breathe, they’re going to suffocate and there’s no air, they can’t do this again, they can’t--

“Hey there, take it easy,” a voice says nearby and their eyes shift over to find Rescuer. When did their eyes open? Were they open the whole time? Whumpee sees something in their lower peripheral, is it the muzzle? No, can’t be, this thing is plastic? It crosses the bridge of their nose and rests on their cheeks and under their chin. They don’t like it and try to shake it off.

“Ah, don’t do that,” Rescuer tells them, “It’s an oxygen mask, it’s helping you.”

“Nnnn…” Whumpee moans, letting their eyes close, wanting the darkness again.

“C’mon Whumpee, stay with me.” Rescuer taps their cheek until they drag their heavy eyelids open again, distant and unfocused. “That’s it, just look at me. You’re safe now.” They smile down at them when their eyes finally come to rest on Rescuer. “We found you.”

Whumpee opens their mouth to say something, but all that comes out is a harsh cough muffled by the mask over their face. Their eyes roll in their head and they hear Rescuer shouting and they’re being jostled and it hurts. Time to check out now.

~~~~~~

From Caretaker:

Whumpee floats on their cloud, not concerned with anything else but resting. It’s nice here, soft and so much nicer than with Whumper. Whumpee frowns and banishes the thought. They don’t want to think of Whumper now, it’s better this way.

“Whumpee? Can you hear me?” A familiar voice drifts down to them. They frown again, this time in concentration, they know this voice, but who is it? “You’re frowning,” The voice says and Whumpee looks around, not aware that they are being watched, but there is no one in the clouds with them. “I hope you can hear me, because I’ve got some things to tell you.”

“I can hear you,” Whumpee says but they don’t think the voice can hear them because they just continue on.

“I’m so sorry, Whumpee. I-I failed you. I failed you in the worst way possible and this,” They take a big gulp of air “This is all my fault.” The voice sounds sad and Whumpee doesn’t like that. It should sound strong and safe paired with beautiful brown eyes and, oh! Caretaker! That’s Caretaker’s voice!

Caretaker sighs “Please wake up and look at me,” There’s a ghostly caress to their cheek, Caretaker loves to touch them there and Whumpee can’t help but lean into it. “Please, just let me know you’re going to be okay.” Caretaker gets choked up and Whumpee listens to their stifled cries, following the sound through the clouds, up and up until they pop out the other side.

There’s no soft clouds here, but the hospital bed is nice enough. Whumpee takes their time coming back. Their body feels heavy but also loose. There are beeping and quiet whooshing sounds from somewhere. They want to find what is making the sounds so they push their eyes open and blink around hazily. Their throat feels thick and they cough to clear it, quickly realizing they can’t. They’re intubated. A tube is down their throat attached to a machine that is breathing for them.

Suddenly, Caretaker’s face is filling up their vision. “Oh my god, hi Whumpee, hi sweetheart.” Caretaker hastily wipes their eyes with one hand, still cupping Whumpee’s cheek with the other. “You did it, you came back to me.”

Whumpee blinks slowly in response and Caretaker chuckles in relief “Yeah, I know you’re still tired, it’s okay, you can rest all you want now.” Whumpee feels Caretaker brush their lips over Whumpee’s forehead as they fade back into the clouds “I'll be right here when you wake up again.” Whumpee likes the sound of that.

~~~~~~

From Themself:

Recovery is difficult, to say the least. Putting one foot in front of the other is a struggle, literally. Everyday, Whumpee pushes themself to take one step more, just one more. Step by step, they make their way across the room. It was always the hardest part to get moving, but once they started, they could keep going.

Today is a big day. They are going to walk across the entire room without any support from the physical therapist. They are going to walk all the way to Caretaker. Whumpee had kept Caretaker away while they learned to walk again. At the beginning, they had been embarrassed and ashamed at all the times they fell down or even simply tripped. As time went on and Whumpee got better, they changed their tune and kept Caretaker away in order to surprise them with how far they’ve come.

They watched their feet make the first few steps before looking up into Caretaker’s eyes and beaming brightly “Look at me, Caretaker! I’m doing it!”

Caretaker’s eyes grow misty as they watch Whumpee take confident steps all the way over to them. They scoop them up into a big hug when they take the final step, their heart overflowing with pride.

“You did it, Whumpee! I’m so proud of you!” Caretaker exclaims, peppering kisses across Whumpee’s brow and face.

Whumpee giggles and pats Caretaker’s cheek, gazing into their soft brown eyes. “Thank you, Caretaker, I wouldn’t have made it without you.”

“We made it together, Whumpee.” Caretaker replies, hugging them tightly to their chest “Always together.”

64 notes · View notes

reinerispretty · 4 years ago

Text

reminiscence. (? x f!reader) pt9

hello and welcome back! thank you for ur patience! this is another over 5000 words one, so pls enjoy! feedback and sharing is loved and appreciated but not necessary!!

pt1

pt8

pt10

“Have you talked to him at all since…?” Asami asked.

“Since I completely embarrassed myself at dinner the other night? No, I haven’t.” She situated herself in bed and turned over to look at her friends. “Do you think I should? I mean, it is odd that he just kissed me out of nowhere, right?”

“Mako’s not one to hold back when it comes to his feelings,” Korra said, and she and Asami exchanged a knowing smile.

Asami swung her fist forward, but (Y/N) ducked and lurched towards her to land a hit in Asami’s abdomen. She blocked her punch by grabbing (Y/N’s) wrist with a hard grip. (Y/N) paused, unsure of what move to do next, before relying on her instincts. Asami would expect her to try to punch with her other hand, but (Y/N) dropped to the ground and swept her leg under Asami’s. She toppled to the ground and landed on her back. As (Y/N) leaned over her, Asami gave her a bright smile. “You did so well! You’re a quick learner.” She took (Y/N’s) hand and stood on her feet. “One or two more sessions and you’ll be ready to handle anything.”

“It’s because I had a great teacher,” (Y/N) gave Asami a sloppy bow. “You really think I’ll have to fight in the Spirit World?” Asami shrugged.

“It’s better to be prepared for anything.”

After the disastrous dinner earlier in the week, (Y/N) had thrown herself into training with Asami and Korra. Both girls were great at teaching her hand-to-hand combat, and the exercise helped take (Y/N’s) mind off of everything that had happened with Mako and Bolin. By the time she went to bed at night, she was too exhausted to spend the night lying awake and wondering what she should do.

It was awkward now, being around Mako. He was trying his best to be nicer to her, she had noticed. But they hadn’t talked about his reasoning behind the kiss and at this point, (Y/N) was so full of scrambled emotions that she wasn’t sure if she wanted to know. She wanted to just write it off as a fluke, an accident, and focus on preparing for their journey to the Spirit World.

She had barely talked to Bolin since that dinner. They only saw each other in passing. He avoided areas that Mako tended to be, so he rarely hung out with the group as a whole. (Y/N) was beginning to worry. Korra had assured her that Bolin would be fine. He bounced back quickly when he was upset and his and Mako’s relationship would be fine. But (Y/N) had passed Mako standing in front of Bolin’s door each night as his knocks went unanswered. Not seeing Bolin as much unsettled her, putting a sour feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Asami handed her a bottle of water, which (Y/N) gratefully accepted. “Are you coming to lunch?” She shook her head.

“I think I’m going to head to my room and freshen up, maybe take a nap.” Asami nodded and they bid each other goodbye.

The walk to (Y/N’s) room was long and allowed plenty of time for thoughts to run through her head. She had stuck her foot in her mouth earlier this week, but she wanted to make things right. She had given Bolin space, because that’s what she thought he had needed, but him not being part of their meals and time together just felt unnatural.

She stopped in front of his door. She knew that she probably looked a mess. She was sweaty, and her hair was falling from the ponytail she had put it into before her training, but she had to do this now before she talked herself out of it. Raising her fist, (Y/N) gave a few raps against the dark wood and waited. “Bolin?” She asked after there was no answer. “It’s me, (Y/N).”

---

Bolin had spent the last few days laying in bed with his eyes glued to the ceiling. It has been over a year since he had last seen (Y/), before all of this mess had happened, and he had thought he was doing alright. He didn’t wake up in the mornings feeling empty anymore, like a piece of his heart was missing. She wasn’t the first thing on his mind when he opened his eyes and she wasn’t the last thing he thought of before going to sleep. He could actually make it through his day without being reminded of her.

And when she showed up unannounced sure, it had tugged at his heartstrings to see her. It had brought back a flurry of old memories with every facial expression she made. But Bolin was okay. He had gotten over her. So, why was he so angry? Every time he thought about Mako kissing (Y/N), it nearly enraged him. Bolin hated feeling like this. He was never an angry person, but right now if he could punch Mako in the face, he would. And he didn’t understand why. After all, Mako was the one that had been so adamant about Bolin getting over (Y/N). He had told him to put himself back out there, to make new memories to replace the old ones. Had this been his plan all along, to steal (Y/N) from Bolin?

Bolin shut his eyes tight. No, Mako wouldn’t do that. And besides, (Y/N) wasn’t his. He didn’t have any claim over her, especially not know, when she doesn’t know who he is. She knows nothing about their history together and Bolin had to be honest, sometimes it killed him. Sometimes he wanted to make a joke that he knew only she would understand, but she wouldn’t now. In the mean time, before she got her memories back, he had wanted to be her friend. It wasn’t her fault that this had happened to her, and a tiny part of him hoped that maybe this amnesia thing would explain what had happened between them. He had to admit that a small part of him did enjoy standing so close to her and hearing her laugh and spending time with her, but he had written it all off as leftover feelings.

She had done quite a number on his heart, after all.

Almost two years ago, Bolin stood on the doorsteps of (Y/N’s) apartment, waiting in the cold winter air. He hit the buzzer and heard the second-floor window fly open. “I’m almost ready!” She called down to him, poking her head out of the window. Bolin’s heart caught in his chest for a moment. Half from seeing his girlfriend and half from noticing how far she was hanging out the window. “You can come up if you want!” Bolin accepted her invitation silently and pulled open the door, a chill running through his body as he stepped from cold air into warm. He walked up the high flight of stairs and immediately stood in (Y/N’s) living room.

Every time he had visited, he was unsure how a girl could come to accumulate so much stuff. Her furniture was all mismatched, taken from sales and alleyways, and piles of books were scattered across the entire apartment. Potted plants lay in beams of direct sunlight beneath the windows. Upstairs in the loft, he could hear her rifling through clothes to get ready for tonight.

“I have absolutely nothing to wear,” He heard her huff, just as a blouse fluttered down from above and landed at Bolin’s feet. He picked it up and climbed the stairs to the loft to return it to her.

“No matter what you wear, you’re still gonna be the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” And she turned around and gave him a smile, biting down on her lip to prevent herself from grinning so wide.

“Thank you, Bo,” She said softly, standing in front of the mirror to smooth down her hair. “I’m just nervous.”

“I’m meeting your mom, shouldn’t I be the only one that’s nervous?” She scoffed, pulling one of the old sweaters he had given her from her closet and pulling it over her shoulders. It was green, like most of Bolin’s things were, and he couldn’t help but run over to her and hug her from behind, lifting her into the air as he did so. She let out a squeal of surprise that turned into laughter. He thought she was beautiful no matter what she wore, but something about seeing her in his clothes made his heart soar even more than it did when he was around her.

She turned around once he set her down, but his hands were still placed gently on her waist. She smoothed out the collar of his shirt. Bolin had wanted to dress to impress, so he borrowed one of Mako’s nicest shirts. It was a bit too tight on Bolin’s frame, but he hoped if he kept his jacket on, no one would notice. “My mom is just…something else. She owns Kwong’s Cuisine, so sometimes I think she thinks she’s better than people. I don’t want her to scare you away.”

He pressed a kiss to her cheek and she hummed, wrapping her arms around his middle and resting his head on her chest. “Nothing could ever scare me away from you.”

They walked the whole way to the restaurant, which had closed just a few hours prior. Bolin thought the dinner idea was nice. (Y/N’s) mother had suggested a private, after-hours dinner with just the three of them. Her mother was not only the owner, but a highly renowned chef in Republic City, so Bolin’s stomach grumbled in anticipation as (Y/N) led him through the doors of Kwong’s Cuisine. The inside was beyond elegant. Bolin had only seen the inside when he was walking by and people were entering or leaving the building. He had always wondered what it was like, and it had certainly surpassed his expectations. The host took their coats and led them to the table where (Y/N’s) mother was waiting.

Her mother sat with her hands folded in her lap as they approached. Everything about her seemed regal, from each perfectly placed hair atop her head to how even though Bolin was standing and she was sitting, it seemed like she looked down on him.

“Hi Mom,” (Y/N) said as they approached. Her mother remained seated and Bolin noticed how rigid (Y/N’s) body had become. “This is my boyfriend, Bolin.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ma’am!” Bolin said excitedly, extending his hand out to offer a shake. She stared at it for a few moments before Bolin retracted it, wiping the sweat that had accumulated onto his dress pants. He pulled out (Y/N’s) chair before sitting down across from her. There were only three chairs at this particular table, and although she was still within arms reach, Bolin felt like he was way too far away from her.

“Your restaurant is amazing,” Bolin said, staring at the chandeliers over their heads. “I’ve heard super great things about it.”

“You’ve never been to Kwong’s Cuisine?” Her mother asked, taking a sip of her water. Bolin shook his head.

“It’s not quite within my price range unfortunately,” Bolin chuckled, and (Y/N) smiled at him as she started to look at her menu.

“I don’t know why you need that thing,” Her mother said off-handedly. “If you work here you should have the menu memorized.” (Y/N’s) fingers gripped the menu pages tightly.

“I was just looking.”

“Bolin,” Her mother said, turning to Bolin, but she pronounced his name all wrong. She said it as “Ball-in” and while Bolin wasn’t all that concerned, he could tell that it irked (Y/N). “I’m glad I’m finally meeting you. I was beginning to worry that our dear (Y/N) was going to keep you a secret for forever.” Bolin stole a glance at (Y/N), but she was staring very intently at the menu. “Tell me about yourself, since my daughter neglected to do so.”

“Oh,” Bolin said, and he was starting to sweat at the back of his neck. Had (Y/N) really not said anything to her own mother about him? She worked at this restaurant nearly every day! She had sneaked him into the kitchens and she hadn’t bothered to at least mention him? “Well, my name’s Bolin, but uh, you already knew that.” He coughed to clear his throat. “I have an older brother, Mako, he’s pretty cool. He and (Y/N) get along swell. We’re part of the Pro-Bending team, the Fire Ferrets,” And the look that (Y/N’s) mother made told Bolin that he probably shouldn’t have said that.

(Y/N) came to the rescue. “They’re amazing! You should see them play at the stadium, Bolin and Mako are like a dynamic duo.”

“I see,” Her mother said. “And do you and your brother see yourselves making a career out of this?”

“Well-“

“Because I can’t imagine that you could win every game.”

“Mom…”

“And it just seems to me that it’s not a very practical career avenue. I mean, what must your parents think?”

Bolin was feeling awkward and uncomfortable. He understood now, why (Y/N) was so nervous about him meeting her mother. He felt like he wanted to run and never stop. But he remained seated. “My parents passed away when Mako and I were little.”

“Surely your family must-“

“Mako and Bolin don’t have any other family.” (Y/N) snapped. That seemed to shock her mother into enough silence so (Y/N) continued. “Bo, I was thinking, you might like these Water Tribe noodles that we serve.” Bolin opened his menu for the first time but his eyes were just a bit watery.

They ate dinner for the rest of the night in silence. (Y/N) tried hard to make the conversation flow, but it seemed like that ship had sailed. Once they left for the night, she walked at Bolin’s side, huddling into herself.

“Why didn’t you tell your mom about me?” Bolin asked.

“I just wanted to have you to myself for a little while longer,” She said with a sigh. “I know I should have told her, but my mom…she ruins things. Good things. We used to get along swell before my dad left, but she turned into someone I don’t like.” (Y/N) looked up at him. “I didn’t want her to ruin us, too.”

Bolin reached out and grabbed her hand. (Y/N) squeezed it. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to protect me. I grew up living on the streets. I’ve probably stolen food out of the garbage from your mom’s restaurant. If you like me for who I am, then you have to know I like you for who you are. Scary mom and all.”

(Y/N) smiled up at him. “On the bright side, now that that’s over, we won’t have to see her again!” Bolin laughed.

“At least not until the wedding.” And because he knew her, he smiled at the warmth he knew was coming to her face.

Things went surprisingly well after meeting (Y/N’s) mom. They spent even more time together. Their anniversary was coming up soon and Bolin had been saving his cut of the Fire Ferret winnings for months to buy her something nice. He knew she wasn’t the kind of person who expected gifts from others, but he enjoyed spoiling her regardless, and wanted to give her something a little nicer than usual.

The idea of telling her that he loved her had also been bouncing around in his head. Bolin had never been one to deny his feelings, and although the majority of him was fairly confident that (Y/N) felt the same way, there was still the small fear of rejection at the back of his mind. But life was too short to live in fear, so when they would go out to their anniversary dinner, he would give her the present and also tell her that he loved her for the first time. And if she didn’t feel the same just yet, Bolin was okay was that. Because (Y/N) was the kind of person that Bolin wanted to wait for.

When he and Mako were little and living on the streets, they had to pawn off as many things as they can to make sure they could survive. This money lasted them for a few months. It helped to get them clothes and food. Mako had chosen to keep their father’s scarf and Bolin had chosen to keep Pabu, because having a pet around was always a good idea. One thing that they had to part with was their mother’s most prized possession: a necklace that their father had given her. It was pure gold, bent into the shape of the Earth symbol. Their father had told Mako and Bolin that he had given it to their mother when he was confident that he was going to marry her. Bolin had always been a romantic at heart and couldn’t wait for the day that he could give that necklace to someone. But as he and Mako fell on hard times, they decided to pawn the necklace to get some money for new winter clothes. Bolin had been tasked with taking the necklace to the shop and he had done so with shaking hands and watery eyes.

“Please don’t sell this to anyone else,” He said as he placed the necklace on the counter. “I-I’m gonna come back for it, I promise.” And the owner of the pawn shop took pity on him and decided to keep the necklace in the back room for whenever Bolin had the money to buy it back.

Bolin, with the money he had saved over the past few months, had been able to buy the necklace back just a few days prior. He kept it tucked away in his bedside drawer, eager for his anniversary with (Y/N) so he could give it to her.

But (Y/N) had walked into Bolin’s apartment a couple days later, her cheeks tearstained and her eyes bloodshot. He looked up from teaching Pabu a new trick, his eyes bright with excitement to show her, but his face fell at the sight. “Are you alright?” He asked, and (Y/N) sniffled.

“I’m breaking up with you,” Was what she said, and Bolin couldn’t help but laugh in surprise. This had to be a prank that she was playing. (Y/N) loved telling jokes.

When he saw the serious expression on her face, he felt panic arise in his stomach. “You’re being serious?” He asked, and she nodded her head. “W-what do you mean?” He rushed over to stand in front of her. “Why are you saying this?”

“Because we’re breaking up, Bolin,” She said, and she refused to meet his eyes. “We won’t work. Being with you was fun but I don’t see us going anywhere.”

“(Y/N), I don’t understand,” He could feel the prickling sensation at the back of his eyes. “You’re not making any sense. Come on, let’s talk about this.” He grabbed her hand.

“There’s nothing to talk about!” She insisted, ripping her hand out of his. Bolin’s fingers curled in on themselves, shocked at the absence. She had never reacted that way to him. “We’re breaking up and that’s it! I don’t know what you want from me!”

“I want an explanation! You can’t just come in here and decide that we’re broken up, I-We-I love you, (Y/N). Please.”

She looked up at him for the first time, her eyes boring into his. Her bottom lip quivered. “I don’t love you. There’s your explanation.” She spun on her heel and ran out of the apartment. Bolin was still in the same position when he heard the door shut.

He moved back to the couch to sit, still trying to process what had just happened. Pabu curled himself around his neck, licking at his cheek. It took Bolin a while to realize that Pabu was licking at the tears that were falling, now more rapidly. Once he started crying, Bolin felt like he couldn’t stop. He was still crying when Mako got home and cried as his brother hugged him through the night.

Bolin opened his eyes, his heart pounding in his chest and the familiar tight, anxious feeling that he had had that night in his chest. He hadn’t dreamt about what had happened between him and (Y/N) in over a year. He sat up in bed when he heard a knock at the door.

---

To (Y/N’s) surprise, she heard the click of the door unlocking and then Bolin was standing before her, his bright green eyes staring at her curiously. “Oh, hi!” He said, as if he hadn’t actually been expecting it to be her. “How are you?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing. We haven’t really gotten the chance to talk this week.” She gave him a sheepish smile.

“Yeah, you know me, super busy Bolin.” He looked back at his bare bedroom. “I’ve just been doing, you know, things.”

“Things,” (Y/N) repeated. She might not remember Bolin and his habits, but he was a horrible liar. “Listen, I just wanted to say sorry for everything that happened at dinner earlier this week. I spoke without thinking and I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“I’m not upset,” Bolin said. “Mako kissed you, that’s…that’s no big deal.” (Y/N) furrowed her brows.

“Does Mako know you feel that way?”

“You don’t have to come talk to me on his behalf. Whatever you guys have, I’m cool with it.”

“That wasn’t what I was doing, and Mako and I don’t ‘have’ anything.” She crossed her arms over her chest, her lips pulling down at the edges. “Don’t make assumptions about what’s going on between Mako and I before asking either one of us.”

“I wasn’t trying to make assumptions,” He said. “Listen, if you and Mako want to…y’know, have anything, I don’t want you to think that I’m upset or standing in the way of it. I’m fine, really. I’m over what happened between you and I. I was upset at Mako for not telling me, but I’m fine now.” He moved to shut the door.

“You’re over me,” (Y/N) said, and she felt like an idiot for repeating it but she needed to clarify.

“A thousand percent,” Bolin said with a smile. “From now on, we can be best buds!” With that, he shut the door. (Y/N) stared blankly at the hardwood for a moment, trying to process what had just happened. Bolin was over her. He had said it himself. She supposed she should have figured that. It had apparently been years since they had been together and it was obvious to her that she had hurt him very badly. Bolin deserved this outcome, he deserved to be over her after everything she had put him through. She should be happy for him.

As she walked back to the main part of the ship where the rest of her friends would be, she couldn’t help but comb through every interaction she ever had with Bolin. She had thought that maybe there had been something there. He had made her a favorite food of hers and had offered her a jacket to make sure she wasn’t cold. (Y/N) felt like an idiot. Those were probably just things Bolin did, and she wasn’t aware because she didn’t know him at all.

“(Y/N)!” Korra called, jogging to catch up with her friend. “I’ve been shouting for you to wait for like a whole minute.”

“Sorry,” (Y/N) said. “A lot on my mind, I guess.”

“Well you’re about to have even more on your mind, because I just talked to the captain and he said we’re going to dock in the Southern Water Tribe by nightfall.”

“That’s amazing!” (Y/N) exclaimed. She was going to allow herself to have a moment of excitement. “And then we’ll head into the Spirit World?”

“It’ll be too cold to leave at night. We’re going to stay with my parents and then my dad will help us get there tomorrow.” Korra grinned at (Y/N), her eyes barely visible from how wide her smile was. “I’m so excited for you to see where I’m from.”

“If it created someone like you, I’m sure it’s amazing,” (Y/N) said. Korra looped her arm through (Y/N’s).

“I’ll have to ask Mako and Bolin where your family’s from. I’d love to know if you have a bit of Water Tribe in you.” She poked her side, causing (Y/N) to giggle.

“I can’t wait to have all of the answers back,” (Y/N) said. “Who I am, where I’m from. Do you think my family is still in Republic City? Do I even have a family?” She turned to Korra. “I wonder if they’ll even let me come home.”

“You’re getting ahead of yourself. First, we have to figure out how to get your memories back. And then we have to figure out how to get you to stay in Republic City. I kind of like having you around.”

“Really?” (Y/N’s) smile was bright and beaming. She was thankful for Korra. When everything else was so uncertain, at least she had a friend in her from the very start.

“Yeah. There’s no one I know that does as much embarrassing stuff as you.”

---

They docked in the Southern Water Tribe late that night. (Y/N) had put on as many layers of clothing as she could to keep herself warm, but it still didn’t feel like enough. She was shivering as she walked off the boat, which caused Korra to laugh at her. “Not all of us have firebending to keep ourselves warm!” (Y/N) muttered.

Korra’s father was waiting at the end of the dock to take them all back to their home. He introduced himself as Tonraq and he absolutely towered over (Y/N). He looked rather intimidating, but he had a kind smile that (Y/N) appreciated.

“So you’re the young girl that’s been stirring things up in Republic City,” He laughed as he shook (Y/N’s) gloved hand. “Just when I think Korra might take a break, she’s gets herself into another adventure.”

“She’s been such a great friend to me these past few weeks,” (Y/N) said. They rod snowmobiles back to their hut. It was modest in size, but as soon as (Y/N) stepped inside, she felt so at home. A fire radiated in the middle of the room, keeping the entire house warm. Animal furs and pelts decorated the walls, but so did pictures of Korra. From an infant to present, photographs of Korra were placed through the entire house.

“It’s so nice to see all of you again,” Korra’s mom said as she hugged her daughter. “And it’s so nice to meet you!” She pulled (Y/N) into a hug of her own, surprising the girl. When they pulled away, she introduced herself. “I’m Senna. Korra has written us so much about you.”

“Alright,” Korra said with a cough, her face bearing a faint flush. “(Y/N) and Asami will stay in my room with me. Mako and Bolin, you’re going to sleep in the living room if that’s alright.”

“Sounds good to me!” Bolin said, and he started pulling out his sleeping bag to prepare for the night. (Y/N) couldn’t help but look back at him as she was guided into Korra’s bedroom.

It was a small bedroom with a bed pushed against the wall, but two beds had been set up on the floor. Korra’s walls were bare compared to the rest of the house. “I saw those pictures of you as a baby,” (Y/N) said. “You were so adorable!”

“’Were?’” Korra asked, and she, Asami, and (Y/N) laughed.

The three girls began getting ready for bed and each crawled underneath the covers. (Y/N) had opted to leave her jackets on. “I don’t think I have any Water Tribe in me,” She said to Korra. “It’s freezing here.”

“You get used to it eventually,” Asami said. Korra tossed a blanket at (Y/N), which landed on her head.

“Here, have one of mine.”

“Are you sure you won’t need it?”

“Nah, plus I don’t really want to hear Mako complaining in the morning when you’ve turned into an icicle.”

“Have you talked to him at all since…?” Asami asked.

“Mako’s not one to hold back when it comes to his feelings,” Korra said, and she and Asami exchanged a knowing smile.

“I just don’t want to complicate things anymore. I talked to Bolin earlier today and he said that he doesn’t care what Mako and I do, because he’s over me. And I know it shouldn’t have, but it still stung.”

“Once we get your memories back, everything will make sense again,” Asami said, reaching underneath the blankets to squeeze (Y/N’s) hand.

“Thanks, guys,” (Y/N) said, closing her eyes to try to get some sleep. She and Asami’s fingertips remained touching throughout the night.

---

In the living room, Mako and Bolin remained wide awake. Both brothers stared at the ceiling, neither sure of what they should do in order to make themselves fall asleep. Mako decided to speak first.

“I’ve been trying to talk to you,” He said in a low whisper. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that I kissed (Y/N). I don’t really know what happened. She just got me so angry.” Bolin hummed in acknowledgement, so Mako continued. “If I’m being honest, I did sort of like her when you guys were together.”

Bolin turned on his stomach to face Mako. “Have you liked every girl I’ve been with? First (Y/N), then Korra-!”

“Not every girl,” Mako said. “Just the really smart and pretty ones.” Bolin scoffed, but Mako could still see the hint of a smile on his face. “I don’t want you to think that I was trying to undermine you by kissing her. I really didn’t know what I was doing when I did it and I still don’t know why I did it. I’m glad she hasn’t tried to talk to me about it, because I’m not sure I wouldn’t have had an answer for her.”

“I don’t care that you guys kissed,” Bolin said. “I’ve been over (Y/N) for a while now. I was just bothered that you didn’t tell me about it.” Mako raised an eyebrow.

“You think you’re over (Y/N)?”

“Of course I am. It’s been years-“

“And you look at her like you did the first time. Stop trying to lie to yourself, little bro.” Bolin huffed.

“It doesn’t matter. You remember how things ended.”

“I know, but maybe…maybe we were wrong.”

“Are you actually starting to defend (Y/N)? Old (Y/N), I mean?”

“I’m not defending her! It’s just obvious that we don’t have the whole story. But hopefully we will soon.” Mako slid further underneath his covers. “Just…don’t hold what I did against her.”

Bolin turned on his side, staring at the fire that was now dying out. He didn’t like the way being around (Y/N) made him feel. It scared him, because he had felt those feelings before, and had ended up worse off because of it. But that night, he did drift off thinking of her smile.

---

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@beifongsss , @aroyaldarknessblr , @musicalkeys , @thefandomimagines , @blondie0458 , @kairiririri , @awesomelupe , @zukosvice , @tomshollandz , @lavendercrystals , @astralsaf , @realimbo , @mycollectionofnuts , @wingeddemonclub , @gingersnap126126 , @aangsupremacy , @marvel-ing-at-it-all , @davnwillcome , @someoneovertherainboww , @bigbuckyenergy , @breadqueen95 , @buttholland , @noodlesfluffy , @busyforkuvira , @error-loading-sorry , @bombardia , @la3divine , @just-a-teal-android , @theeavtrkyoshi , @brokennerdalert , @sukifans

#lok #legend of korra #atla #korra x reader #bolin x reader #mako x reader #asami x reader #korra #bolin #asami #mako #writing #fanfiction

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spencersawkward · 4 years ago

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not to go full fluff central but omg can you write a one shot about matthew hanging out with his kids?? i see him as a girl dad and he would 100% play dress up with them and they would be wrapped around his finger and itd be so sweet it could cause cavities lmao i just want that man to have children so bad

ugh yes i want him to have kids so bad and YES he 100% is a girl dad i definitely agree. this was super interesting to write tbh bc i did it from his perspective but i'm glad i did and i'm glad you asked for it bc we love a saccharine one-shot! also i'm so bad at names for characters i'm sorry lol.

summary: Matthew has a day off with his two daughters!

content warnings: none! literally just fluffy fluff with a side of fluff.

word count: 2.1k

masterlist

when Matthew wakes up to the press of a crayon on his forearm, he nearly startles. his head jerks up to see his daughter, Juniper, trying to draw on him. her hair is neatly braided and the other side of the bed is empty, indicating that his wife has already gotten up.

"good morning, sweetpea." he says to Juniper with a tired smile, wincing when she tries in vain to draw on him. wax on skin doesn't work that way.

"it isn't working, Dad." she pouts. she throws the purple crayon onto the bed and stares at him. she's got dark lashes framing huge, beautiful eyes, and a gap between her front teeth. she pried out the baby tooth a week ago-- seven years old and already determined to take it out herself-- and has been showing it around the house like a trophy.

"maybe we can try with markers after I get up." he suggests. she peers at him with an impatient expression.

"fine." although the word is venomous, she crawls up the bed until she's tucked beneath his arm and he kisses the top of her head. Matthew smiles to himself as he holds her, happy to have the whole day to spend with his kids. he hasn't had a day off in forever.

"should we make breakfast for you and your sister?" he asks cheerfully.

"yes!" she leaps up to stand on the bed, jumps around a little bit on the cushy mattress. "come on!"

"okay, okay," he chuckles, throwing off the covers. "let me brush my teeth first, sweetheart."

"I'm coming with." Juniper is insistent as she follows him. he takes out his toothbrush and toothpaste while she paws through her mother's makeup drawers and skincare. she grabs a bottle of perfume and examines it carefully. "what is this?"

"let's be careful with that." Matthew turns from the mirror, where he can see the rat's nest of hair on his head while he brushes his teeth, and gently puts the glass bottle back on the counter. Juniper crosses her arms.

"what is it?" she repeats. her father finishes up, then lifts her into his arms like she's a sack of potatoes.

"it's your mom's favorite smell." he clarifies. after kissing her little cheek, he walks into the kitchen with Juniper's arms wrapped around his neck. she clings to him like he is everything in the world, and he realizes that this is one of his favorite parts of the day. whenever he holds his daughters, he feels the kind of joy that simply can't be replicated. his heart overflows for them.

"morning, sleepyhead." Y/N looks up from the counter, where she's biting into a piece of toast and talking excitedly to their other child, Autumn. Matthew grins at the sight of her, so beautiful when she's laughing with her daughter.

"morning." he's smitten.

"I have to go in a minute, but I figured you'd be able to handle a day with them?" she comes over to him and kisses his lips, saying the last part softly. Juniper leans her head on her father's chest, staring at her mother with those enormous eyes.

"with these two devils?" Matthew nods to the girls. "of course."

Y/N shakes her head with a laugh and gives each of her daughter's foreheads before grabbing her purse.

"bye, Mama!" Juniper and Autumn say in unison.

"bye, my angels. I love you very much." she smiles warmly, ruffling Autumn's silky curls before touching Matthew's arm tenderly and heading out of the kitchen. he watches her go, waits for the sound of the lock clicking into place, before he looks conspiratorially between the remaining household.

"who wants pancakes?" he smirks. their ensuing squeals are affirmation enough.

...

"Dad, can I show you my ballet tutu?" Autumn surprises Matthew by grabbing onto his leg while he's making pancakes. Juniper is standing on a stool beside him, watching and helping to flip the flapjacks.

"nobody wants to see that, Autumn." Juniper scowls impatiently at her younger sister. Matthew turns to his little one and smiles.

"I would love to see your new tutu, sweetheart." he says. Autumn gives the other girl a triumphant look before running off to her room. when Matthew looks at Juniper, she blushes. "be nicer to your sister, Juni." he says gently.

the little scolded creature crosses her arms over her chest and turns her gaze to the pancakes. she knows she's not supposed to be mean, but sometimes Autumn is just so annoying. Matthew can't even pretend to stay mad for long, however, and offers the spatula to her.

"do you wanna flip it?" he smiles.

"yep!" Juniper quickly slides the utensil under the pancake, her father's hand guiding hers to make sure she doesn't accidentally burn herself. she's a smart girl, but she's inherited his lack of coordination (and his nose). they giggle together at the sound of the batter slapping the pan.

"dad, look!" Autumn tugs on the leg of his pants and he glances down to see her wearing a bright pink tutu over her leggings. his jaw drops open in wonderment, tinged with a smile.

"oh my goodness!" he gasps, hoisting her into his arms and burying his face in her curls. "you look just like a princess!"

she giggles. Matthew turns off the stove for a moment to spin her around in his arms before setting her down again and crouching to look at her. "can we see your dance routine after breakfast?"

Autumn nods shyly. he holds her tiny hand in his and kisses the back of it before standing back up. Juniper waits for him on her stool. they get back to cooking, both girls chatting about anything and everything while their father listens intently.

once they set the plates out on the table, Juniper volunteers to distribute forks and knives, and soon they've got a whole spread of golden brown pancakes, whipped cream, and fruit. they heap their dishes with food. the girls have a tendency to take more than they can actually eat, but that's okay. he loves the look of excitement in their eyes when they drizzle syrup over everything.

"nice job, kiddos." he nods, impressed, like they've made the whole meal themselves. both siblings grin back at him proudly. "let's dig in!"

he's hungry. Matthew cracks a couple jokes while they eat, pokes Autumn's stomach when she gets full halfway through her third pancake, and then both he and Juniper watch her do her ballet routine for them. she spins, twirls, smiles as she finishes the dance by throwing both arms into the air like she's won an Olympic gold medal. in his eyes, she has.

even Juniper is supportive and claps with a smile at her sister's achievement. although she teases and can be a bit too harsh with her younger sibling at times, the truth is that she's proud of her. it's evident in the way they play together in the summer, running around beneath the sun while Matthew and his wife sip on glasses of iced tea.

"brava!" he cheers when she skips back to her seat at the table. "a royal performance!"

"dad, can we have more whipped cream?" Juniper eyes the canister on the table with hungry eyes. he mulls this over for a second, enamored with the fact that she is so clearly his daughter. down to her features and mannerisms, her tendency to crawl onto the couch and watch the scary movies with him that she probably shouldn't be watching at her age. Autumn looks more like her mother, sweet and optimistic. a dreamy expression on her face.

he grabs the canister from the middle of the spread and pops the cap off the top.

"only if you don't tell your mother." he laughs. Juniper shakes her head vehemently like a half promise and opens her mouth as he puts a pile of whipped cream in it. he does it to Autumn next, then himself. they lean back in their chairs, rubbing their bellies with satisfaction.

"yummy." Juniper grins.

"whipped cream is the best topping in the world," Matthew says matter-of-factly, passing down a pearl of knowledge that will stay with them forever. "don't ever let anyone tell you different."

the three of them clean the dishes together, blowing suds all over the room while they listen to Sam Cooke and dance. the house rings with their laughter and the sounds of feet hitting the ground in rhythmic elation, the kitchen their personal concert hall.

if he could only bestow a few life lessons on them, one of them would be the importance of listening to old music.

Matthew wishes that he could spend all his days with them, making breakfast and hearing their crazy ideas. the world is so full and open to them, he sometimes finds himself thinking about how they're going to conquer it. they've got a grittiness to them that they could only get from their mother-- an absolute sureness that stiffens their little spines-- and an imagination that could fill books with stories. he wants to paint for them, do everything for them.

but for today, they head to Autumn's room and play dress-up with the enormous chest of costumes by her bed. should he work on not spoiling her so much? maybe. he doesn't care. she's absolutely adorable when she hauls out princess dresses, doctors' jackets and stethoscopes, other disguises. he thinks she's going to be an actress; she loves to take on different jobs and throw herself into them, walking around the house ordering that her next patient be brought in or for someone to prepare her microscope. her mind is full of ideas.

Juniper pretends to be disinterested in dressing up, but she gives up the act once Autumn hands her a tiara to wear and pours her imaginary tea.

"what flavor is this?" Matthew takes a sip from his miniature cup, fanning his mouth like it's hot. "it's divine."

"it's normal tea, you cuckoo bird." Autumn giggles. she sets the teapot down on the plastic table.

"I'm a cuckoo bird?" he pretends to be offended. "you're a cuckoo bird!"

"no I'm not!" Autumn protests, but Matthew is already wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her into his lap. he tickles her sides.

"you're the cuckoo bird!" he repeats through her fits of laughter. she squeals and kicks with joy until he sets her back on her feet.

"your hair is crazy." Juniper scolds. Matthew sighs and runs a hand through the unruly curls. they always tease him about it, and somehow it never gets old.

"probably because this one messed it up with her claws." he pokes Autumn's side and he suppresses a gleeful smile.

"Dad, you need a tiara, too." Juniper points to the empty spot on his head. "Autumn, get him one."

the younger sister looks like she's going to defy her sister's bossy demand, but decides against it and runs off to grab another bejeweled piece to place on her father's head. it's comical, the way the tiny thing sits.

"thank you, sweetpea." he smiles at his youngest, pinching her cheek before glancing between the two of them seriously. "how do I look?"

"silly." Juniper giggles. she straightens it out on his head and he wrinkles his nose.

"hey! boys can wear tiaras, too," he defends with mock attitude. "now, can I have more tea, please? I finished mine already."

"of course." Autumn stands diplomatically and pours him a new cup while they pretend to snack on baked goods. Matthew tells them about the new movie he's directing, dipping into his storyteller voice and wiggling his fingers with every mention of a spooky plot point. the girls sit at rapt attention, hanging on his every word, despite the fact that he's got a miniature tiara on his head.

they adore him, and every second he's there, they revel in it. they love their mother, too, of course. but days with their dad are just... different. he lets them eat whipped cream by themselves and tells them stories, kisses their foreheads and dances in the kitchen with them. they always have fun together, no matter how dreary the day is. and those feelings won't change as they get older; he's their rock, their security. he always will be.

#mgg fluff #matthew gray gubler #fluff

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melanielocke · 3 years ago

Text

Lost in the Shadows - Epilogue

AO3

Taglist: @alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer @foxglove-airmid @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @justanormaldemon @styxdrawings @ipromiseiwillwrite @a-dream-dirty-and-bruised

Previous Chapter: Chapter 35

This is the epilogue and final chapter. While there are some loose ends and I might write a sequel one day, I have currently have no plans for one so it would take some time. As it is I'm working on a Frozen TLH story (chapter 1-3 are currently published), and one post CoI story titled "We bury the sunlight" so look out for those.

Alastair decided to move in with Jem at the end of the summer. He had managed to finish decorating his bedroom just in time for the first week of university, which he was excited about starting. He wasn’t sure why, but he’d expected Jem to be overbearing and constantly worrying about his mental health. He’d always thought that was what a psychiatrist did, he guessed, just like his father had always feared Jem would know about his alcoholism from just looking at him.

He’d learnt that wasn’t the case. Jem was a doctor, he couldn’t read minds, and although he was there for Alastair when he needed him, he was family and not his doctor, which was an important distinction. Jem gave him lots of space, and the ground rules were mainly about keeping everything clean, which was no problem. Jem also preferred it to know if someone he didn’t know was visiting, but that rarely happened since Alastair only had a few friends and the only one who hadn’t known Jem before was Kamala.

It was nice, having so much space to himself. Jem had changed a lot about the house, it didn’t look like an exact copy of the house he’d lived in when he was very young. Cordelia and his mother still lived with Risa, with him gone it fit a bit better, but they were in the process of getting the house back.

He saw Thomas regularly, and they had sleep overs once a week. Alastair had bought a new double bed for his room mainly so they could share the bed. Thomas was currently adapting to student life, but had vowed to Alastair that he would not drink any alcohol. Alastair worried that would severely limit Thomas’ social life, but secretly he was very happy Thomas would do that for him. Lucie had also decided they would all start playing DnD with her, and although Alastair still didn’t understand much of the game, they had fun. Thomas, who had been in Lucie’s previous campaign as well, had helped him with his character. Right now, the group consisted of Lucie as the story teller, or dungeon master as the game called it, and Thomas, Cordelia, Kamala, Eugenia and him as the players. Alastair played a warlock, which he felt suited him. Warlocks also got nightmares they never asked for all the time and were constantly exhausted, not to mention they made deals with otherworldly beings. Perhaps it fit a little too well.

He’d also decided to take lessons in ballroom dancing, with Kamala as his dance partner at the student dance association. He almost had something that resembled a social life, which was both very new and very weird. As it was, they both were quite good at dancing. Kamala had taken two years of dance classes too, although it had been years, and together they could figure out what they remembered and how to do it. Both had been forced by their father at the time and it was much more enjoyable now that they’d chosen to pick it up again, not to mention it was nice having a dance partner he matched well with.

Thomas was still considering starting dancing, but finding a partner who was tall enough for him would be a struggle. Alastair could follow decently and dance with Thomas, although he still noticed the height difference, but with the lack of men in dancing most teachers would rather pair Thomas with the tallest girl available.

He felt like for the first time in years, he was sort of happy? Happier than he used to be at least. He still had nightmares, flashbacks, all that, and didn’t think it was going away anytime soon. If anything, EMDR made it harder, but that was to be expected. He’d known that during EMDR he’d have to talk about everything, and although in time that would make it better, at first it just brought everything to the surface. He’d learnt not to plan anything else on days he had EMDR, except maybe cuddling with Thomas.

Although relationships were still new to him, any relationships really, he was getting more accustomed to having people around who cared about him. Not just Thomas, but Lucie and Cordelia, who had just started their last year of school and came to him for help with their math homework, Kamala and Eugenia, who he’d been spending time with at the dance studio. He often visited the Lightwoods too, and he felt welcome there. Gideon and Sophie had made a habit out of inviting him along with any family outings. He’d never felt so welcome before, it had taken some time to work through that.

‘You’re going to love my gift, I promise.’

Tomorrow was Alastair’s nineteenth birthday, and Thomas was sleeping over the night before.

‘What is it?’ Alastair asked.

‘A surprise.’

‘It was worth a try,’ Alastair said. ‘How was your visit at Matthew today?’

Alastair had spoken to Matthew once. He didn’t think the two of them would ever be good friends, but they could move past school and tolerate each other’s presence. Thomas had spent the day with him today, shopping. Matthew apparently loved clothes even more than Alastair did, and had an unusual and extravagant taste.

‘Awkward,’ Thomas said.

Alastair frowned. ‘Why was it awkward?’

‘Well, he’s the only other man I know who is interested in men and has previous, uh, experience. So I figured I’d ask what to expect and what to do. It was a very uncomfortable conversation.’

Alastair started laughing. ‘You could have just asked me.’

‘I know, but I thought it would be nicer for you if I had some idea of what I’m supposed to be doing,’ Thomas said.

Alastair put his hand in Thomas’ hair. ‘That’s sweet.’

‘From now on I’ll be asking you my questions,’ Thomas said. ‘Of course, the internet has also been helpful.’

‘As long as you know where to get your information,’ Alastair said. ‘Porn isn’t real and not a good source. But I don’t mind if there’s things you don’t know yet, because I know enough.’

They had sex for the first time that night. Alastair felt it was the right time. Of course, having sex the night before his birthday wasn’t new to him. The previous years he’d spend with Charles ever since he’d turned sixteen. It was far better with Thomas. Not because of experience or anything like that, but because Alastair felt comfortable, because he was absolutely sure he wanted it and felt like he could ask Thomas to stop if he wasn’t comfortable anymore. Thomas was a little clumsy, but Alastair didn’t mind. He would get better at it with some practice.

The next morning, they went to the Victoria and Albert museum. It was early on a week day and neither of them had classes today. Thomas had been surprised at first by how empty his schedule was but had ultimately discovered much of his free time was spent on assignments and preparing for lectures and classes. Fortunately, it did mean they could easily plan such trips on times it wouldn’t be crowded. Alastair still didn’t like crowds and didn’t think he ever would. Thomas had grown over his fear of them, but he also preferred the quiet. It was much nicer this way, taking his time to let a piece of art wash over him, undisturbed by other visitors. Thomas made the occasional comment. He’d taken art history in school and could name the different styles and put works in the context of the time period. Alastair didn’t say much in response, just nodded. He felt he didn’t have to.

Thomas had promised him his gift after coming back from the museum, and Alastair was starting to get curious. Thomas had hidden the gift somewhere in Jem’s house, so Alastair wouldn’t even be able to guess from the shape. He hadn’t bothered to look for it, but had been tempted. As much as he liked the small smile on Thomas’ lips as he said ‘not yet, mi Cielo,’ Alastair was not fond of surprises. He liked to know what to expect with a three to five workdays advance notice for anything out of the usual.

‘You’d think no one has ever given you a birthday gift before,’ Thomas said. He paused. ‘Wait, is that it? Did you not usually receive gifts?’

‘No, I did, from my mother and sometimes Cordelia.’

Charles too, Charles had had a habit of giving him expensive gifts. Or gifts he’d found among his mother’s things, he guessed. Alastair had not seen him again now that he was back in London, for which he was grateful. Gideon had spoken with Charles and told him he knew what he’d done and wasn’t welcome at his house anymore. Apparently Charles had been very angry about that, but Gideon had told Alastair he was welcome anytime and it was his responsibility to guarantee his safety. Alastair appreciated that.

‘Have you been asking them about it all this time too?’ Thomas asked.

‘No just you. But you made a big deal out of it by hiding it someplace here,’ Alastair said.

‘Alright, I guess you can open it,’ Thomas said, who left and came back to the living room carrying a very big box.

Alastair carefully opened the wrapping paper, making sure nothing tore. He wasn’t sure why exactly, but he’d always opened gifts this way, as if he intended to reuse the paper, something he’d never done.

‘I thought, with how impatient you were, you’d rip it all apart,’ Thomas said.

‘No,’ Alastair said.

‘You can rip it, it’s no problem,’ Thomas said as Alastair was struggling to get a piece of sticky tape off without damaging anything.

‘No,’ Alastair said, even more determined to get everything off properly.

Once he’d gotten it open and folded away the colorful wrapping paper, Alastair revealed something that resembled a hamster cage, but bigger. There were two floors, the top open and the bottom offering a little more darkness with a little home in there an animal could hide in. There was a wheel, several balls, and a little hedgehog plushie.

‘I know you were planning to get a pet hedgehog, so I researched what it needs. This has most things it needs to live in, you just might need to add a heat lamp because hedgehogs need a warm environment.’

‘I’d been looking into what I’d need too,’ Alastair said. ‘Jem is alright with me getting a hedgehog as long as I make sure to keep Church away from him. That shouldn’t be a problem, as I would put the hedgehog in my bedroom and Church doesn’t go there.’

‘How is Church?’ Thomas asked.

‘Usually, he is wherever I’m not. He doesn’t come into my bedroom. In the living room it can be a bit more of a struggle, as he likes to claim his space, and no matter where I sit, he gets upset because that’s the spot he wanted for himself. The only moment he tolerates me is when I’m accompanying Jem on the piano.’

Alastair had picked up playing music again after years and he tried to practice for half an hour daily. Sometimes with Thomas, singing his songs and playing more modern music. But he also played classical music with Jem, who was exceptional at the violin. Jem could probably have been a concert violinist if he hadn’t chosen to become a doctor instead.

‘Sounds like Church,’ Thomas said. ‘He won’t be a danger to your hedgehog, will he?’

‘I will keep my hedgehog in my bedroom,’ Alastair said. ‘If I make sure to keep the door closed when I’m not there, I think it’s unlikely Church will even go there. Even then there’s a cover for this hedgehog home and a little house for him to hide, and of course a hedgehog can roll into a little ball of quills. I think it’ll be fine. And my therapist thought it might be good for me to get a pet, as long as I am confident I can care for it of course. Now, can you help me think of a name? I’m not great with names.’

‘You and Cordelia have been arguing about baby names for weeks now,’ Thomas pointed out.

‘Yes, the baby should have a beautiful Persian name,’ Alastair said. ‘For pets it’s different.’

‘Or dnd characters,’ Thomas added.

‘So what if my character has my middle name?’

‘No, I like it,’ Thomas said. ‘Esfandiyar. It’s a beautiful name. For a pet I think a shorter name is better. I think your plushie hedgehog is called Mr. Prickly?’

‘I named him when I was a child,’ Alastair said. ‘I’m not naming my pet something stupid.’

‘No little pipsqueak?’ Thomas said with a grin.

Alastair rolled his eyes. ‘Absolutely not.’

***

‘You mean to say you forgot to buy Alastair a gift for his birthday?’ Lucie asked.

‘I didn’t forget,’ Cordelia said. ‘I planned to do it today, after school. How was I supposed to know I was going to get detention?’

They entered the bookstore, certain she could find something Alastair would like here.

‘Sorry I couldn’t get you out,’ Lucie said. ‘Even my dad can’t do that, but he knows it was completely unfair.’

Cordelia shrugged. ‘I finished my homework. But I’m still pissed.’

She knew teachers tended to be harsher on her, Alastair had always had the same problem, and she usually made a point to behave but she also wasn’t going to let people just walk over her girlfriend. So what if she’d gotten into a fight with a bully? He’d started it, but that’s not how the teacher who’d broken them apart saw it.

‘Alastair will understand,’ Cordelia added. ‘He was often sent to detention unfairly too. Now, which of these books do you think he’ll like?’

‘Both seem pretty good,’ Lucie said. ‘What are they about?’

‘This one’s called Malice, and is a Sleeping Beauty retelling focused on Alyce, the dark grace with powers similar to the original evil witch who cursed the princesses, and she might be the villain but she might also fall in love with Aurora. I haven’t read it, but it sounds awesome. The other is Girl, Serpent, Thorn.’

‘Oh, didn’t I lend you that one last year?’

‘Yes,’ Cordelia said. ‘It was awesome and the cover is so beautiful I wanted my own copy. I think Alastair will like it too, the world is inspired by Persian culture and the Shahnameh, which he loves, and the story is very good too.’

Girl, Serpent, Thorn was probably one of her favorite books, and Cordelia ultimately decided to buy it for herself while buying Malice for Alastair. He could always borrow the other book from her, she just wanted to reread it several times and have the gorgeous cover on display.

‘I doubt Alastair minds we’re late,’ Cordelia said. ‘He’s been spending the day with Thomas.’

Cordelia sometimes envied the amount of free time Alastair had compared to her. She hoped it would be the same once she went to university. Of course, Alastair had his memory, he only had to read everything once and he would remember forever. He could save so much time that way.

It still struck her as odd how they didn’t understand Alastair’s memory. Lucie was the way she was because her grandfather was the thief of souls. Same for Tessa, who’d gotten some of her power back after his death. Thomas had the sight because his mother did, and Kamala had healing powers because a fairy had given them to her. But no one knew why Alastair was the way he was. Cordelia knew it still frustrated him, not understanding.

‘I can’t wait until I can go to university,’ Lucie said. ‘I am so done with physics.’

‘Why did you take physics?’ Cordelia asked.

‘No clue,’ Lucie said. ‘I’ll survive another year. Then it’s English literature and creative writing.’

Cordelia wished she knew what she was going to study. Half her biology class was already working on their med school applications, but Cordelia had no clue yet. At least she couldn’t really picture herself as a doctor. Part of her still wanted to be a hero, but what if like Jem she decided to retire early? Being a hero didn’t exactly pay, and it was good to have some education. She just didn’t know what. She knew, of course, it was fine to choose wrong at first. Alastair had realized being a politician wasn’t for him, and was again starting in his first year.

‘At least Alastair promised to help me with my math homework,’ Cordelia said.

Cordelia and Lucie took the metro and arrived at Jem’s house. She’d been here frequently since the summer, and it already felt like Alastair’s house. She’d considered moving in herself too, but felt like she was still too young to move away from her mother and would rather stay for now.

Alastair and Thomas were in the living room, where an animal home was standing on the table next to a bit of neatly folded wrapping paper, not a tear in sight. Alastair had always been a little obsessive in the way he opened gifts. The wrapping paper would be thrown away, yet he always opened it with such a care and he never ripped anything.

‘Happy birthday,’ she said, hugging her brother.

He’d grown more comfortable with physical affection lately, and for Cordelia it felt like it had become easier to reach him. She’d had to get used to not living in the same house as him at first, but Alastair seemed happier here.

‘Thank you,’ Alastair said. ‘I’m officially on the waiting list for a pet hedgehog. It might take some time, but I have some of the supplies I need now. I am open to name suggestions as I have not thought of anything yet.’

‘Pipsqueak!’ Lucie called out.

‘Oddly, you’re not the first person to suggest that,’ Alastair said. ‘No, I am not naming my pet Pipsqueak.’

‘That’s because I already call Alastair that,’ Thomas said.

Alastair rolled his eyes. ‘My hedgehog will have a serious name, not something a toddler would have chosen.’

They didn’t settle on a name yet that evening. Lucie kept suggesting the kind of names Alastair meant to avoid as a joke, and Eugenia did the same when she and Kamala arrived. Kamala had a few good suggestions, and Alastair decided to look into Persian pet names.

Cordelia started feeling like things would be alright again, like things would be normal. Of course, she could never be sure. Tatiana had not turned up again, Gideon had reported her missing and so far the police had no leads. Cordelia didn’t think they’d find her, and she wondered if Tatiana would come back. There was no chance she could bring back her son, not anymore, but Cordelia feared she might want revenge. Right now, she tried not to worry. She would be prepared, yes, but she would also continue to live her life, go to school, worry about things normal girls her age should be worried about. Alastair seemed to be doing a little better as well, although she knew his EMDR days were hard. He was playing music again, and Cordelia loved to listen to him play the piano while she was here.

‘Do you want to play something?’ Cordelia asked at some point, gesturing to the piano.

‘Of course,’ Alastair said. ‘Thomas, I need your help.’

‘I didn’t bring my guitar,’ Thomas said nervously.

‘I don’t need you to play, I need you to turn the page of the sheet music. One of these days I’m going to make a copy and tape this piece together, but it’s 5 pages long.’

Cordelia would always be impressed at how fast Alastair could move his fingers over the keys. He’d tried to teach her when she was younger and she could play some simple melodies with her right hand only, but she’d never gotten the hang of playing with two hands.

‘I recognize this,’ Lucie said when Alastair was finished. ‘I think it’s in Pride and Prejudice. The one with Colin Firth.’

‘That’s possible, it’s well known. The Turkish March by Mozart,’ Alastair said. ‘I’ve been practicing this for the past week.’

‘It’s lovely,’ Cordelia said. ‘I missed hearing you play.’

‘And now you only get to listen when you’re here,’ Alastair said apologetically.

‘I’m here several days a week anyway,’ Cordelia said. ‘I’m glad you’re playing again.’

‘I forgot how much I loved it,’ Alastair said. ‘But I’m happy too. Even Church likes it when I play.’

Cordelia noticed the cat was sitting up from his spot on the couch, listening intently as Alastair started playing something else. Church might hate everyone and everything, but he loved Jem and he loved music.

Thomas continued to do his job as page turner and Cordelia could see the adoration in his eyes as he watched Alastair play. She was glad they’d been able to work it out and were still together, Alastair deserved that.

When Alastair was finished, Lucie decided to present her gift, which was a story she’d written herself in an insanely short time. Cordelia had read it and helped her edit, but the premise was that it was Frozen but with Alastair and Cordelia as the main characters.

‘I’m going to read it as soon as I have the time,’ Alastair promised. ‘This sounds brilliant.’

#Alastair Carstairs #Thomas Lightwood #Cordelia Carstairs #Lucie Herondale #Thomastair #Lucelia #the last hours #tlh #fanfiction #epilogue

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hanoella · 3 years ago

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Affettuoso- With Feeling (Part 1)

Pairing: Bucky x Pianist!Reader

Set after the events of TFATWS: In an effort to start over and make a home in Louisiana, Bucky meets a friend of Sam's who ends up being his landlord. With only a driveway to separate them, he finds that he's not the only one looking for a fresh start.

Series tags/warnings: Slow Burn, Eventual Bucky x Reader, Mentions of Domestic Abuse, Canon Level Violence

Read Part 2

---

After everything that happened with the Flag Smashers and the GRC, Bucky thought that laying low with Sam in Louisiana was a good idea. He had been looking for a fresh start anyway. Between losing Steve and making his last amends, New York as of late had only been full of sad memories and regrets. Louisiana was so different- slower paced and fresh, no negative feelings. No feelings at all, actually. Sam was more than understanding, letting him stay with them until he found a semi-permanent place here.

Currently, Bucky was staring out the window, watching the breeze make little waves in the grass as he ate his sandwich. Sarah and the kids had gone out to the boat, making the house feel virtually abandoned. There was too much space and not enough people. For just himself, it was only a reminder that he would continue to stay as he always had- alone.

Sam walked into the kitchen where Bucky was, effectively breaking his train of thought. He raised an eyebrow at Sam’s mischievous smile- or maybe it was a regular one. He always looked like he was up to something, at least to Bucky.

“Great news,” Sam started. “I just got off the phone with a friend of mine. She’s moving down here for some work and is looking for someone to live on the property with her.”

“She?” Bucky questioned.

“Listen, I know what you’re thinking but before you say anything else, let me explain. So she already bought the house, it’s less than 10 minutes from here so you can still see us whenever you want. The property’s a couple acres so it’s got tons of space. It comes with an apartment over the shed, so you don’t have to share walls. She keeps to herself so she won’t bother you,” Sam said, counting the pros on his fingers as he talked.

“And the best part is: you don’t need to pay rent. I explained the situation, with you being a hero to the world and all, and she said as long as you can help her out with the heavy-duty stuff like taking care of the property and the occasional repair, you don’t have to worry about it.”

Bucky eyed the couch that had been his home for the past several weeks. Don’t get him wrong- being here with the boys was fun. Unfortunately though, he was still in a place in his life where he needed time to think, heal and meditate. The nightmares, although less frequent, were still occurring. Sam was always supportive, but Bucky didn’t want to keep putting him out. Sam noticed the hesitation and spoke.

“You don’t have to decide right now, but she’s moving here in a few days and could at least use some help. She said we could go look at the property now- no pressure though. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want.”

Bucky paused a moment before nodding.

“Okay, let’s go.”

---

Sam turned into a dirt driveway lined with low hanging trees on one side and a field on the other. Bucky wouldn’t have even noticed it if not for the mailbox on the street.

“See, well this is perfect for you, it’s back in the cut.” Sam said.

Bucky could understand from context clues that that meant secluded. Probably.

It took a few seconds down the driveway before the trees on the left cleared and the water was visible. On the other side, there was a light green house with white trim. With the typical Southern architecture and porch, it was the picture perfect place to live. No neighbors- just trees and water.

Sam whistled as they pulled up at the end of the driveway by the house. Now that they were closer, Bucky could see the large garage on the opposite side of the driveway. It almost looked like another house but much smaller, and with a small dock in the water. The bottom floor of the garage had two large doors that opened upwards, and one regular doorway. The top floor had several windows with curtains in them, shrouding the inside. Getting out of the car, Bucky walked around the car to where Sam was opening the door to the garage.

Going in to inspect the garage, Bucky blinked to adjust to the dim light. He looked around to find several yard tools, some cans of paint on shelves, and a riding mower. On the back wall was a door. Hearing a rustle, he turned to find Sam feeling up on the highest shelf.

“Found it!” He said triumphantly, holding the key to the apartment up.

Walking over to the door on the back wall, Sam unlocked it and pulled it open. Bucky poked his head through the doorway and looked up to the staircase at his left. He turned to meet Sam’s eye, who shrugged before gesturing to Bucky to take the lead. It led up to the top floor of the garage, which was fitted with an apartment that turned out to be nicer than he thought.

It was simple but in good condition. Dark hardwood floor, white trim, pale steel blue walls. Where they had walked up was the living room. Directly across from it was a kitchen area with a veranda to walk out on. The open space then shrunk to a hallway to the left. The bathroom being the first door and a bedroom at the end of the hall. Overall, plenty of space for one person.

“I don’t know about you Buck, but this place seems perfect.” Sam said as he opened the glass sliding door to the veranda. It overlooked the undisturbed landscape, hidden from the nearby town.

“It does.” Bucky responded simply.

He took a moment to walk out onto the veranda with Sam and view the birds wading through the water.

“Well good,” Sam said with a chuckle. “This way, you can stop hitting on my sister.”

Bucky laughed and punched him in the arm. Sam feigned physical and emotional injury.

“Haha, Very funny.”

Sarah was a nice gal, but focused on her life at the moment. Sure, there had been a few sparks, but ultimately she had made it clear that her priority at the moment was her boys and her business. Bucky had been a good sport about it. It just felt good to be back in the game without it feeling forced.

Sam watched as Bucky stared out at the water before switching to a serious note.

“So… You feel like you’re ready?”

Bucky slowly nodded.

“Yeah. This is it.”

Sam smiled wide as he handed the key over and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Welcome home.”

---

Bucky had very few belongings from New York that came with him. A small wooden table with chairs. A few books. A bed, a couch, a TV. There wasn’t really a whole lot that couldn’t be replaced if needed. He had been able to take the trip to and from in a few days, already moving his belongings into the apartment. The only big thing he had done was bring Steve’s old Harley out of storage. He probably should get a car at some point since it wasn’t the city anymore but he’d figure it out.

After saying goodbye to Sarah and the kids, Bucky opened the door to Sam's truck.

“Promise you’ll visit?” shouted one of the boys before clinging to him.

Bucky smiled and patted the kid on the back.

“Of course, I will.” He said, looking at the other boy before gesturing for him to join the hug.

“Uncle Buck’s not going anywhere boys,” Sam promised across the center console from the driver’s side.

Both boys eventually peeled off of Bucky’s side. He got in the truck and rolled down the window.

“Be good for your mom okay?” He said to the boys as he waved and nodded at Sarah, who smiled back as the truck started.

“Okay, bye!” They shouted until Bucky could no longer see them in side view mirror.

He really would miss those kids.

They drove in comfortable silence until they pulled up to the house where a light blue sedan was parked next to a storage pod that had been delivered. After parking by it, they exited the truck as you were stepping out of your car.

“Sam!” You exclaimed cheerfully, as you went in for a hug. He lifted you slightly off the ground and you laughed, smiling wide. Bucky stood to the side and observed the interaction, giving you a once-over. You were dressed appropriately for the work you were about to do- light-wash high-water jeans, a white t-shirt with a chest pocket, canvas shoes, and hair up in a slightly messy bun with a few gold bobby pins thrown in to hold back any loose wisps of hair.

After Sam set you down, he turned to Bucky and introduced you.

“… and we met during a charity event that Tony hosted. She offered her services free of charge to help us raise money for the VA.”

You held a hand out to Bucky.

“It’s very nice to meet you! Thanks so much for helping me move in, I really appreciate it.”

Bucky smiled lightly and nodded as he shook your hand.

“Nice to meet you too.”

You smiled and took back your hand before looking at the house.

“Shall we?” You inquired, gesturing towards the storage pod.

“Of course,” Sam replied, opening the door to the pod. As Bucky looked inside, he noted that it was mostly just boxes. The noticeable items were the same as his: the bare minimum- besides a fancy electric piano.

“How’re you gonna fill up this house with a few pieces of furniture?” Sam joked.

“Hey, it’s better than having too much stuff! Besides, don’t guys always say that women have too much stuff?” You quip back as you reach for one of the larger boxes in the pod.

“Ah-ah-ah, no you don’t,” Sam said as he intercepted you and picked up the box.

“Oh, c’mon Sam. I’ll feel bad if I make you guys do all the heavy stuff.”

“You’re not making us do anything. Besides, I’ll be fine, and the old man could use some exercise,” he said, nodding towards Bucky.

You smiled timidly at Bucky.

“I have a bad shoulder.” You explained while gripping the top of your right arm.

“I get what that feels like,” he sympathized, nodding to his metal arm.

“Ah, yes, I’m sorry, it’s not nearly as bad-”

Bucky cut you off.

“Don’t be sorry. If it’s hurting you, don’t worry about it. We can handle it.” He said gently, pausing for a moment before continuing.

“Or at least I can.”

Sam tilted his head back and feigned hurt feelings while you picked up a lamp base and shook it lightly at him.

“Does this meet your approval, Mr. Wilson?” You asked teasingly.

“Why yes, yes it does. Now come on.”

He walked into the house, you right on his heels. Bucky eyed the two of you together for a moment before picking up a few boxes himself.

---

A few hours later, he was sitting on the worn leather couch next to Sam while you went to get them some drinks in the kitchen. You appeared under the white trimmed archway into the living area holding three glasses.

“One sweet tea for the guest, one lemonade for my new neighbor, and a half and half for the gracious host.” You said, holding up your glass after handing the others out.

You three clinked glasses and you sunk into a sage green armchair with dark wood.

“So… how does this work?” Bucky asked, taking a sip of his drink.

“Mmm, yes.” You said, swallowing the sip you had taken.

“Uhm, basically whenever you’re not off saving the world with Captain America,” You started, smiling with pride at Sam. “If you could just make sure the grass doesn’t get too long and help me with some of the more physically demanding repairs and jobs around the house, that’d be great. Of course, that only applies if you’re here, and even then, as long as it’s not urgent, you can take your time getting around to it. Other than that, you’re free to do as you please.”

“That’s very generous of you.” He remarked.

“Well, don’t say that yet,” you said while laughing. “The property is huge so it might be more of a challenge than you think. But like I said, there’s no need to rush to anything. Besides, I should be thanking you. You’ve done a lot for the world.”

Sam interjected before Bucky could respond, which was okay because he still wasn’t used to accepting thanks instead of apologizing.

“Where’s my thank you for saving the world?”

You rolled your eyes and sarcastically rattled off a thank you. Bucky cleared his throat after a moment.

“Anything you want me to start working on?”

“Oh, please get settled in first. I have some furniture getting delivered that I might need help assembling in a few days but otherwise, there’s nothing else. If you have any expenses like paint or tools, you can just use this card and let me know.” You said, handing over a credit card.

“We should also exchange phone numbers too. What’s yours?”

Bucky stalled a moment before rattling off the numbers. It was a foreign feeling- giving out his phone number. He was most definitely having PTSD from his therapist chucking his phone at him. He watched as you typed away on your phone. Feeling his phone ping, Bucky looked at it and saw a message from an unregistered number.

“Hi, It’s me :)”

“That’s my number. Obviously.”

Bucky nodded his head in thanks while registering your number. It had been a while since he had added anyone’s number. You and Sam started talking about something else while Bucky exited back to the main list of contacts. There, your name was italicized and highlighted at the top. What a strange feeling.

…

Later that night, Bucky was relaxing, enjoying the peace. It was warm for autumn, and the water was reflecting the moonlight. He couldn’t sleep. Not that that was surprising. He walked out of the apartment down to the small dock to sip on a beer and celebrate his newfound independence. Sitting on the edge where his feet barely touched the water, he leaned back onto his hands and took a deep breath in.

That’s when he heard it.

Just barely, with his enhanced hearing, he could hear your crying. It was like you were wailing in pain. Not a sharp new pain, but an intense never ending one. The kind that you hear from an animal that’s been maimed- the kind you put out of their misery. Whatever you were holding in, it had been building up for an impossibly long time and finally, exhausted, you found a chance to let it out. Being able to hear it felt like a dirty invasion of privacy.

Bucky swallowed and took another deep breath before trying to focus on the sound of the wildlife around him. But it was no use. Here you were. Here he was.

No longer the only runaway seeking refuge.

#Bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes angst #bucky x y/n #bucky imagine

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rosaliepostsstuff · 4 years ago

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Secret santa - F.W.

This is my fic for @thisismysecrethappyplace‘s writing challenge, using prompt #27 - "Today, it's like there's rock bottom, then 50 feet of crap, then me."

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Hufflepuff!reader (although the house is not mentioned much)

word count: 2070

a/n: I’m not one of the people who start celebrating Christmas on November 1st (but if you do - live your extra life, love) but the idea of secret santa game just popped into my head and I couldn’t think of any other story to work with the quote. Year is not specified.

If you want to be added to my taglist, let me know!

December rolled around and the castle of Hogwarts has been covered in snow once again. The snow reflecting the little sunlight the area got this time of year, making the inside seem a bit brighter. It reminded you that in just a few weeks’ time it would be Christmas. Even though you were to stay at Hogwarts this year, you were looking forward to it.

During one of the study sessions in the Great Hall, you were sat next to your friends from Gryffindor. You were quietly chatting to Angelina and Katie. One word led to another and you learnt that the girls and a few more friends of yours would be staying for the Christmas break as well.

“Look, we’ll finally get to properly spend the holidays together-“ Katie started, but Angelina quickly joked, “oh, like the big, dysfunctional, happy family we are” and finished with a big grin that quickly fell when she caught Professor Vector’s eye and got back to her notebook. “Hey, that’s not a half-bad idea,” you put your quill down and looked between the girls, “how about we gather the rest and do a ‘secret Santa’ type of deal, huh?” you said enthusiastically. They studied you a bit sceptically, but you got them intrigued.

When you got them convinced, you talked to a few other people and decided to gather the next evening after dinner to draw the names so you’d still have almost three weeks to prepare the gifts.

That’s how you found yourself, all the Weasleys, Harry, Hermione, Lee, Angie and Katie gathered at one of the tables near a huge fireplace at the Great Hall. Being very excited about the idea, you prepped the pieces of parchment with the names beforehand and now everybody was to draw one from a hat passed around the group.

When it reached you, your heart started to beat slightly faster – you were quietly hoping to get Fred – you were friends, but you liked him slightly more and were hoping the act of kindness of a well thought out gift would get you some bonus points. It was now or never.

You reached in, stirred around with your hand a bit and picked one of the folded pieces, then passed the hat on. Carefully, so that no one would see it, you unfolded the parchment that read-

“Lee Jordan”

You tried not to show disappointment on your face. It was fine. You liked Lee and you planned to make the best gift you could think of. You’d still get to see Fred, even if you didn’t make the present for him.

You couldn’t help but wonder who did draw his name. Would they make a nice gift? Maybe a nicer one than you would’ve? Get his gratitude- oh, how you hoped it wasn’t any of the quidditch girls. What if it’s Angie? Oh, he must like her – she’s tall, pretty, and cool-

“Hey, Y/N?” Hermione’s voice snapped you out of your spiralling thoughts. “What’d you think? Do we exchange on Christmas eve? Christmas day, boxing..?” Asked Katie. “Uhm, the eve’s fine,” you mumbled and followed everyone, getting up and heading out.

You said your goodbyes and separated from the group – you were the only one headed to the dungeons. As you were about to go through the door you saw a piece of parchment someone must’ve dropped. Before you got to it, you saw Harry notice it and pick it up.

Passing by, you involuntarily looked at the parchment-

“Y/N Y/L/N”

Dammit, you thought and went on. That was about it for your surprise, or at least half of it.

——————⁛⁙⁘◊⁘⁙⁛——————

Days had passed, then weeks, and you found yourself with just a few days left in this term before the winter break would start.

You woke up late, with weird neck pain – you had slept in a funny position. Throwing on your robes you kicked your shin by accident and took a moment to shout out a few indecent words to help ease the pain and then you pushed through, determined to reach potions on time.

During the break, before your second period, you figured you would stop by the library to pick up a book you were going to need for an assignment you planned to start that evening.

Walking through the aisles with your destination well known, you looked out the large windows at the snow – and with the remnants of any positive attitude you had in you, you smiled to yourself.

“Have you done yours already..?” you suddenly heard Ron’s ineffectual whisper from behind a bookcase. It made you stop in your tracks and against your better judgement, you listened in. “Yeah, I got her a book…” Harry’s voice whispered back. ‘please, don’t say what book’ you repeated in your mind. “… something about the history of wizarding settlements in Britain..? I can’t remember the title, but she’ll like it.”

You grimaced to yourself at the thought – he couldn’t be more wrong. And then to top it, he added some sweets you absolutely loathed.

With heavy steps and a heavy heart, you headed to charms.

You liked charms, and you loved professor Flitwick. He was one of the decent teachers in this school, kind and sometimes even funny.

Today was one of those lessons, this time of year, that he gave up on starting a new topic and decided you were to do some revisions. Your mood slightly lifted, you were practising the banishing charm.

As the end of the lesson was drawing close you got comfortable and your mind started to wander. Thinking about the earlier events, you lost your focus and accidentally knocked over the pile od books Flitwick was standing on, sending the professor flying face down.

He was nice enough to understand your mistake and you were not punished in any way, but it didn’t change how bad you felt about it.

As you headed to lunch, cursing the universe, Merlin, and everything around, you thought the day couldn’t get any worse.

And then you tripped on one of the stone floor slabs.

You heard Fred and George’s booming laughs, lying on the floor and debating whether life was worth getting up. When the twins saw you not getting up, they stopped laughing.

Fred walked up and looked at you a bit confused – the fall wasn’t all that bad and you didn’t look hurt. “You alright there, sunshine?” he said leaning over you. You groaned in response and rolled over, then reluctantly got up from the cold floor with Fred’s help. “Peachy,” you replied, dusting off your robes and Fred snorted, then studied your expression.

He signalled for George to go without him and patted your shoulder lightly. “Today, it's like there's rock bottom, then 50 feet of crap, then me.” You gestured wildly. “Alright then, papa Fred’s got you. What’s troubling you?” he asked, slightly amused, yet genuinely as you began strolling in the direction of the great hall. You took a deep breath, wondering where to start. “I slept in, was almost late to potions which we know would leave me with trauma, I knocked Flitwick to the ground by accident when we practised Depulso - and now this,” you kicked the cousin slab of the one that made you trip and Fred chuckled at your pout, “Oh and I almost forgot – my Christmas present’s gonna be rubbish,” you exaggerated. “How so?” he asked, confused. “Well, I know who’s my secret Santa already. Found out by accident. Then I overheard what I’m gonna get… I mean, it’s okay, but I guess I was just hoping for something nice…” you rambled looking down to the ground. “Oh. Okay then… you know what? I actually promised Lee I’d pick something up for him before lunch, so – I- I’ll see you later?..” It was your turn to be confused. You looked up at him but before you raised your hand with a little wave and mumbled small “bye”, he walked off.

——————⁛⁙⁘◊⁘⁙⁛——————

You haven’t seen Fred all that much since that weird encounter – you didn’t have any classes together and you were in different houses so it was just a coincidence to you.

The Christmas Eve came around and you were playing wizards’ chess with Ron in the great hall to pass time before the rest of the group gathered. People were slowly pouring in, each of them adding to the small pile on the wooden table, a box enchanted with a concealing spell, so that each gift looked the same – and the secret Santa remained secret. Among the last few was Fred, looking slightly sheepish for himself.

“So are doing it, lads and lassies?” exclaimed Lee rubbing his palms together, making everyone chuckle. You all sat down close in what resembled a circle, making sure no one was left out.

Hermione pointed her wand at the pile of boxes, “Revelio” and they all appeared in different forms, with various name tags attached.

You decided to open the gifts one by one going clockwise, starting with all-too-eager Lee. You couldn’t help the wide grin that appeared on your face when you saw his child-like joy after opening the gift from you. Then it was Angelina’s turn, then yours.

You reached for the package with your name on it, trying to appear enthusiastic and not-at-all like you already knew what was inside. You unwrapped the paper with a mix of shock and confusion on your face.

Inside the paper was a box of your favourite chocolates and underneath a plain-looking book. You opened it and it turned out to be a photo album filled with photographs of you with your friends, along with some captions and thematic drawings on the white-ish pages around them.

With mouth slightly open you flicked through a few pages and ran your hand over the doodles. You looked up at Harry, who had the same expression as anyone in this circle – except for one person who studied your reaction and tried to hide the satisfied smile on his face.

The gift opening continued. It was when Hermione opened hers and you saw what you had thought you’d get that it dawned on you. It started with the assumption that when Harry picked up the note with your name it meant he was your secret Santa, which (obvious for you now) didn’t have to be the case and it wasn’t. Then with your mind set in stone, you just kept assuming things.

“Did you like your gift?” with newfound courage thanks to the good mood, you nudged Fred on the way out. He slowed down to walk beside you and separate from his mates. “Why, were you my Santa?” he asked cheekily. “No, not this year. Just curious.” you shrugged your shoulders. “Yeah, it was nice.” he stated simply, and after a bit of silence added, “d’you like yours?” “Why, were you my Santa?” you giggled. He put his hands in his pockets and avoided your gaze as a smile started creeping upon his face. “Merlin’s beard, you were..?” you cursed yourself for saying that out loud as your heart started thudding. “Maybe.” He looked at you with a mischievous smile and you melted. “Freddie, I loved it. It was really… sweet,” you said, shyly. “Good then, glad it wasn’t rubbish.” he snorted lightly and you wanted to bury yourself right then and there. “I’m soo sorry about that, it was a misunderstanding. I was in a bad mood, I thought somebody else was making a gift for me, I- I didn’t… I’m sorry Freddie.” You smiled awkwardly at him and he chuckled, ruffling your hair. “It’s alright, sunshine. I’m happy you don’t resent me” “I could never.” “Oh?” he stopped and looked you straight in the eye, smirking. “Uh, I mean…” your mind went blank. “You see, I was really happy when I drew your name.” he looked up above the two of you and your eyes remained on him. “It just so happens that I really like you so you must agree it would be convenient if you liked me back.”

You gulped. He looked back down at you, then gestured with his eyes for you to look up.

There it was, hovering above you, in all its glory – the magical mistletoe.

“So?” He leaned down a bit, turned his head to the side and tapped his finger on his cheek, “make it up to me?”

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #hp imagine

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mandos-lightningbeforethunder · 4 years ago

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Start Again - Chapter One (Din Djarin x Reader)

SUMMARY: Luke Skywalker wasn't the only one searching the galaxy for force-sensitive beings. And he was a hell of a lot nicer. You were sure of these visions. They told of a forgotten life and explained the cracks in your memories. Perhaps employing the lone Mandalorian may help you put the pieces together.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: brief mention of torture, discussion of memory loss

Author’s Note: First time posting on both tumblr and AO3 (fic is cross-posted). Feel free to reblog! Other chapters will be linked as the story progresses. Enjoy!

CHAPTER ONE - THE MEMORY

“Castin!”

A boy, no more than ten, turned at the voice of his mother calling him. He was jovial, playing in the riverbed. His clothes will be soaked if I don’t stop him, you thought.

“These men want to speak to you!” Perhaps that would get his attention.

Behind you, three men stood, watching the child as he bound toward his mother. The boy quickly hid behind your skirts, suddenly shy. Castin was almost to your chest now, yet in the presence of strangers, he still acted like a toddler. One of the men crouched to his level, offering a rock.

“Your mother tells me of your abilities,” one of the men hums out.

Castin nods. You watch as the man reaches into his pocket, pulling out a simple stone.

“Show me,” he requests. Castin looks to you, unsure. You nod, offering him a smile to encourage him. You had heard whispers around the galaxy, the Empire defeated and a young Jedi searching for more like him.

Holding the stone between his pointer finger and thumb, the man waits for Castin. His face contorted in concentration, Castin pulls the stone towards him into the palm of his outstretched hand.

The three men hum in admonishment. At such a young age and already showing promise, you hear one murmur. Castin smiles at you, practically beaming from excitement.

“We would like to speak to you about possible schooling if you wouldn’t mind?” The man rises from the ground, offering you a smile.

“Yes, of course. Castin can go back to playing, yes?” You ask, not wanting to bore your son. The man simply nods, turning to walk to your village. You walk just behind the man, passing his two colleagues before you hear the ignition of a saber.

The nightmare has been longer than others. However, the faces remain blank to you. The reminder of what was lost, just in front of you, and yet you hardly remember it. There are whispers about it, about your survival and broken memories.

Staring up at the ceiling of your hut, you closed your eyes to try and engrain the nightmare. Fold it into other nightmares and visions, hoping to fill in the blank spaces in your mind. It did little to help what was left of your memory, however. All you knew, is you had a lost life somewhere out there. The voice in that nightmare was your own.

Someone calls your name. Opening your eyes, you again see the ceiling of your hut and rise from your cot. The twin suns leak sunlight into your hut to signify that it was time for morning chores.

Another shout of your name.

“Just a moment!” You shout back, turning to the bowl next to your cot. You splash the water onto your face, rousing yourself. The creak of your door startles you from drying your face.

“Valara! What have I told you about sneaking up on her?” an elder woman, standing just outside your door, chastises.

“Sorry grandmother,” Valara says, before turning to you. She sees the look on your face and calmly shuts the door behind her. “Did you have another nightmare?”

You only nod, drying your hands before placing the cloth next to the bowl.

“You know there are remedies for that,” Valara suggests.

“I know,” you murmur, “but I’m not ready.”

“You choose to suffer?” She asks. You know she means well. She has been there through your worse ones.

“I had a son,” you turn to her, your eyes meeting hers for the first time this morning. “In this nightmare. I had a son. He couldn’t have been older than ten, I think. His face was a blur, but he was mine. I know that.”

Valara stares at you, her mouth slightly slack in shock. She blinks and is quickly set back in reality. She moves closer to you, placing her hands on your biceps as a means of comfort.

“Are you sure? Wait, no, I mean, I believe you. Your memory has been returning and it looks promising. I just,” she pauses, looking away from you before her eyes meet yours again, “I don’t want your conscious to confuse you with false memories. My grandmother told me your brain uses it to protect you.”

“I know what I saw, Valara,” you state in a firm tone. “It was me, my voice in that nightmare. Not something my conscious could just conjure up.”

Valara’s hands fall to her side, nodding at your words. You can see the gears turning in her head, she’s unsure of what to say.

“There are chores to do. Maybe that will take your mind off things before you have another session with my grandmother,” Valara states, turning away from you. She walks toward the door, before turning to look over her shoulder. She then leaves without another word.

You ponder her words. There were chores to complete. The same chores you had been doing since you first arrived in Valara’s village. You needed change. Something different than this village and its secrets. The constant sessions with Valara’s grandmother were only taking a toll on you. Your memory was improving and yet you felt as zero progress had been made.

Opening the door to your hut the twin suns quickly beat down on you. The winter season, a mere two weeks, had come and gone on Puvo. The grassland planet’s ecosystem only called for summer and spring seasons, with the occasional winter season that came every once in a millennium.

Valara was just ahead of you. Kneeling over the riverbed, she washed the dirt off the leaves of Puvo’s native plant. Known for its healing properties, villages like Valara’s sold the leaves in droves. It was shipped across the galaxy, reaching the far ends of the universe. Valara’s grandmother had used it when you had first arrived, bleeding with a shattered mind. Although the leaves healed the physical wounds, your mind remained in the state you had first arrived in.

You knew only your name and parts of your life before. You didn’t even remember the victory of the Rebels. Valara had to catch you up on the last six months, easing you into the current state of the universe. There was no war, none at Puvo at least, and the galaxy remained peaceful.

You kneel beside Valara, scooping a couple of leaves from her pile, and begin washing them in the flowing water.

“I want to leave,” you whisper to her. Her head jerks to look at yours.

“Leave?” she asks. “You know you can’t do that, not without my grandmother’s permission. Your head…it’s not in the right place for you to go out on your own.”

“I know. That’s why you’re going to help me,” You say, looking at her. Her face is contorted in confusion before the realization hits her.

“No,” she states, shaking her head. “I can’t let you do that.”

“Valara,” you start, “I can’t be here any longer. I know my mind isn’t where it needs to be but being stuck on this planet—” Valara splashes you, stopping your words.

“You’re asking me to sneak you off Puvo,” she reminds you. You nod and she sighs, looking away from you.

“I need change. Puvo and its people, you and your grandmother have treated me with nothing but kindness since I first arrived. Your grandmother helped me piece parts of my mind back together. But staying here could mean years before we make any more progress.” At this point, your tone comes off as pleading.

“Why so sudden? What did you see in that nightmare?” Valara asks, “You’ve been here for nearly a year now and we’ve just put together your earliest memories. Leaving Puvo could mean never recovering other memories. You know, pre-Empire memories.”

Right. The Empire no longer existed and instead, the New Republic stood in its place. A new era of peace.

“Valara. That nightmare…that’s more than I’ve ever seen before. The faces may have been a blur, but I know in my heart that I have a son out there. I don’t even know if he remembers me at this point, but I need to try and at least find him.”

Valara murmurs your name, placing a hand on yours. You take a deep breath.

“You came to us a year ago. Broken, bloody, babbling incoherent things. Grandmother didn’t think you’d survive the night. Stars, whoever or wherever you came from, they tortured you. Don’t you understand? You’re safer here. There’s a possibility if you have a son out there, the people that did those things to you…they don’t want you finding him.”

“Valara,” you say.

“Don’t, don’t ‘Valara’ me. You say it in that stupid voice of yours and suddenly I melt. Stop it.” She demands, glaring at you. You can see the conflict in her eyes. She means well, she wants to protect you and keep you safe from the people that harmed you.

“What if you came with me?” you offered, taking another leaf from her pile. She shakes her head, focusing instead on the task at hand.

“What if I took a communicator with me? Check-in with you every week or so?” This time, Valara pauses in her work. She looks at you again, placing the leaves down in the basket next to her.

“Those communicators are for transport crews only. They’ll notice when one is missing. And how do you expect to get out of here? The only ships that regularly arrive and depart are those janky old transport ships and they can barely fit a load of Puvion leaves.”

A bag of credits lands next to her basket and she looks up at you.

“Where did you get those?” She demands, snatching the bag and peering inside. You can see her counting the amount.

“I’ve earned them,” you say, taking the bag from her with gentle hands. “Turns out loading those janky old transport ships earn quite a bit of them.”

“Damn it,” Valara curses, but she smiles. She seems proud. “What are you planning on doing with those credits? Bribing your trip to another planet?”

“No. There’s an old watering hole a couple of kilometers from here. From what I’ve read, there’s a couple of travelers who come through and pick up any stragglers in exchange for information or…credits.”

“So, bribery,” Valara deduces. You give a sheepish smile as she rolls her eyes. “Where will you get the communicator?”

“You know that one transport crew? The one with that pilot who thinks he’s the shit?” Her eyes widening is a signal that she knows exactly who you’re talking about.

“Nope. I’ve heard enough. I’m not becoming an accessory to your crimes. You’re crazy.” Valara rises from the riverbed, brushing her hands on her pants. You quickly set aside your leaves and pocket the credits, rising to follow her.

“It’s not becoming an accessory. I just need a favor. His crew arrives tomorrow at the same time as the last. He won’t even notice it’s gone.”

Valara stops, pinching her nose in frustration. She seems to be going over your words, processing them and what they could mean.

“My grandmother is going to kill me…” she sighs. You grin, ready to celebrate but she stops you with her hand. “No, no, you’re getting the communicator yourself. I’m stalling for you, so my grandmother doesn’t wonder why you missed a session.”

You hug her and her surprise is visible. Affection is not lost of the native Puvion, but it’s rare coming from you.

“Thank you,” you say, and she rolls her eyes, returning the hug in a begrudging manner.

Read Chapter Two - The Journey here!

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din dijarin x reader #din dijarin fanfiction #din djarin x you #start again #the mandalorion spoilers #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader

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folkloreguk · 4 years ago

Text

Querencia (prequel)

A/N: I haven’t written anything in this format in so long, so I hope it’s okay! Someone once asked me to write a prequel to my previous work “Querencia”, so I finally got around to it (after like 2 years rip dfghjk)

[!you don’t have to read both of these parts to understand either one!]

genre: optional bias (male) x reader (female), fluff, explaining how they ended up together, a tiny bit of smut but it’s marked so you can skip if you want, badboy!bias, nerd/shy!reader, her parents are kinda judgemental (only mentioned), secret relationship?, this is an absolute train wreck lmao

words: ~5.2 k

(H/N means “his name”)

ok strap in for this…every time I write a badboy!au I lose a piece of my sanity

basically you used to go to the same school as him

but that’s the only association you had with him because you never actually talked to him in school

he was known to be a “bad boy”

not as in being a horrible person but rather…

he liked to challenge teachers/adults when he didn’t agree with them

and they couldn’t do much because he ended up having pretty decent grades and most of the time his arguments were valid

you had heard your fair share of stories about him

of him getting into a fight with the captain of the football team

apparently, he had stood up for a girl because said captain tried to take advantage of her at a party when she was drunk

you remember being lowkey impressed but didn’t condone violence either way

so, at the same time you were kind of intimidated by him

there were other stories circulating around

of him hooking up with half the school

in quite inappropriate places if I may add

but no one really knew what was the truth tbh

not that it really mattered to you

you were a typical good-girl-nerd-kinda person and so was your friend group

which meant you weren’t even paying attention to him half of the time

plus you thought you’d never see him again after graduating from school

until sooner or later you wouldn’t be given any other choice

because when you walked into your first ever university lecture, he was there

literally one row in front of you???

you were shook because apparently he was studying the same subject as you??

he had even more tattoos and piercings now

one tattoo covered almost the whole front of his neck

he had black boots on and his pants were ripped at the knees

and obviously he had to be wearing a leather jacket

not that you were staring at him (yes you were)

frankly you thought he looked hot

great it’s your first day and you’re already failing to pay attention

and then he turned his head a little and smirked at you???

suddenly you loved looking at your professor and not him

but since you hadn’t paid attention you were left with questions after the lecture

unfortunately the professor was gone before you could ask them

and your social awkwardness made it hard for you to just start talking to a random stranger

so when he go up and made his way to the end of the seats he had to walk past you

“HEy I have a question” you blurted out when he was at your level

the fact that he was so relaxed talking to you made you even more stressed

and he helped you luckily

then, before he could say anything else but the answer to your question, you had escaped the conversation

because perhaps you still found him a little intimidating

but when you walked out of the hall, he quickly caught up to you

“Hold on, do I know you? You seem familiar” he asked

so you had no choice but to explain to him that you went to school together

he was actually really polite to you

but you had sworn yourself education would come first for you, boys second

so you got out of that situation as quickly as possible

the next two weeks you saw him at lectures but always kept out of his way

he said hello a few times and you would nod and smile shyly

within days he had collected a bunch of girls that often sat with him

you guessed he was staying true to his reputation after all

then one day you were in the lovely park behind your university building because you had a break between lectures

you had brought old bread to feed the ducks in the little pond

but suddenly they all swam away from you, over to the other side of the pond

and you couldn’t BELIEVE

he was sitting there, throwing pieces of his perfectly fine sandwich to the ducks all while putting on an extra holy expression

so you went over to fight (not literally lmao)

he greeted you by saying “The ducks made you stop avoiding me?”

you were shook because how did he even notice

“What? You don’t have enough girl-attention yet?” you said

“Not from pretty girls like you” he said

you must have given him a severely disgusted look because he quickly changed his flirty expression

“What made you avoid me? Did I ever say something wrong to you?” he asked

“No you didn’t…you just don’t seem like the crowd I’d hang out with” you confessed

“Wow, I didn’t take you for the judgmental kind” he said

and he looked pretty upset actually??

“I don’t think you’re a bad person” you said

“But I’m home at least by 9 pm every night to study, my parents look at me like I’m a saint, I’ve never been in a relationship and I get nervous when someone as much as raises their voice at me…you strike me as the complete opposite of all those things” you added

without missing a beat, he asked “Don’t they say opposites attract?”

you realized maybe you really had written him off too soon…or perhaps you had worried that he would take your attention off your studies too much

which wouldn’t have been surprising considering how your first lecture with him had gone

and from then on you tried to be nicer to him

sometimes he voluntarily came to sit next to you in class

you didn’t understand why

because you barely spoke to him due to being awkward and when you did you felt like he judged you for being so shy

he had a way with words and within days you found yourself thinking of him more

his stupidly handsome features, tattooed knuckles and pierced eyebrow…it all attracted you maybe a little too much

it was terrifying to you…how he talked to you so easily and already you were eating right off his spoon

what if he was only playing around and you were nothing but a toy girl to him

but then you cursed yourself for saying that…he said he wasn’t a bad person and you were going to believe so unless he proved himself otherwise

spoiler: that never happened

one autumn night you walked out of university after class, it was dark already and pouring rain

you realized you had forgotten your umbrella at home…but you had to walk there by foot…absolutely fantastic

so you pulled your hood over your head and braced yourself to get completely soaked within seconds

suddenly you heard a voice behind you

“Let me bring you home” he said

“No worries, I’m fine” you tried to tell him

“Come on. You said you live twenty minutes from here. If you get on my motorbike I’ll get you home within a few minutes” he said

you were like “Motorbike??”

“Yeah, come on, it’s over there” he said, and he walked ahead of you

basically he didn’t really give you time to argue

when you didn’t follow him right away, he turned around and gave you a look

“You’ll only get a cold if you walk home in this weather” he said

although your parents had drilled into you the idea that motorbikes were dangerous, you went with him after all

he offered you his spare helmet and you put it on

but you were struggling to close it

so he helped you

he was focused on the helmet, but you were staring at him just because you could

his hair was completely soaked by now and water drops were running down his black leather jacket

he had a habit of biting the inside of his cheek when he was concentrating

and with his hands almost on your face, it was the closest he’s ever been to you

it made you weirdly nervous tbh

but before you knew it he had closed the helmet and told you to get onto the motorcycle behind him

“Hold on to the back of the bike or to me” he said

you were surprised at how he didn’t urge you to touch him

and at first you held on to the tail of the motorcycle but the moment you hit a speed bump you changed your mind QUICKLY

your arms swung around his waist tightly and you felt his chest move when he chuckled

like he had said, it only took a few minutes to get you home, and you told him the way there

and surprisingly you really liked being on the motorcycle???

you had thought you’d be scared but it felt amazing

except for how freezing cold the wind was on your wet cheeks ☹

shortly before you pulled up in your street you told him

“You should let me get off a little earlier…my mom will kill me if she sees me on a motorbike”

he didn’t argue but stopped two houses before yours

you felt like the rain had gotten even worse so you really didn’t have time for big words

you quickly thanked him and he gave you his famous smirk before you ran home as quickly as possible

when you had reached the front door you turned his way and he was still there, making sure you got inside

looking at him there, in the downpour in his cool jacket and on his motorcycle, your cheeks involuntarily got hotter

when you got into your room that night and checked your phone, you had one new message on Instagram

you opened it and it was from him???

“Take a warm shower or you’ll be sick tomorrow” it said

he must had sent it seconds after you had entered your house before he had driven away

he really became a bigger mystery to you from one day to the other

because you had no idea what all of this meant???

maybe you should have gotten the hint way earlier

but you didn’t really know the first thing about dating so how were you supposed to know?

but then around two weeks later something else occurred

again, you had class until the early evening

on this specific day, your university was hosting a party for the new students

technically, you would have fallen into that group of new students

but you weren’t one for partying and after being in class for hours on end, all you wanted was to crawl into your bed and rest

so when your course had ended you made your way out of the university building

and you could tell the party had already started because of the music playing

plus there were people all over the place

some were already drunk…you would have been surprised but also this was university after all

you quickly stepped out onto the street and began walking in the direction of your home

from somewhere, you suddenly heard voices

they were making gross noises, as if calling a cat, and asking “sweetheart, do you have a minute?”

when you turned your head, you saw a group of (most certainly) drunk men-boys goggling at you

and because you didn’t slow down or even react to them, they walked after you

you told yourself they would leave you alone if you only walked far enough from the bus station they had waited at

but inside your pocket you clenched your keys between your knuckles

all of a sudden, something touched your shoulders

you almost had a heart attack and raised your hand out of your pocket

“You didn’t wait for me” H/N said from next to you

he placed his infamous leather jacket around your frame and swung an arm around your shoulder

you were about to tell him he had scared the living hell out you

but he was only glaring at the disgusting guys behind you

“I suggest you go home and sleep it off. And learn to take a hint from a girl when she’s this visibly uninterested” he said

the enraged stare he sent to the group of young men made even you feel slightly uneasy

but it worked…they distanced themselves from you if only hesitantly and with a clearly pissed off attitude

“Thank you” you said and were about to give him back his jacket

“Nothing to thank me for. And I gave you that because your sweater looks really thin. Keep it for now” he said

you were taken aback…as always

“Why aren’t you driving your motorbike today?”

“I am, but it’s parked around the corner here. Want me to drive you home?” he asked

and he gave the look again

which look you may ask

the one in which he stared at your eyes and then at your lips…and then your eyes…and then your lips

and his lips were so pretty

“You know what I want?” you asked, “I wanna know if there’s anything you want from me”

he furrowed his brows in confusion

“Why are you always being like this to me?” you went on

“Are you trying to get into my pants?” you blurted out

and then instantly regretted it

especially when he said “Do I really seem like that kind of person?”

“I’ve heard stories about you…” you said

“What kind of stories?” he asked

“Of you hooking up with half of our school back then” you said

he laughed???

and then said “And does it matter how many people I’ve had sex with?”

“It makes me think that’s what you want from me, too. And if that’s the case, I’ll have to disappoint you” you said

“Jesus, Y/N. I want to date you” he said

when I say you were shocked it would be an understatement

hot-tattooed-bad-boy wanted to date you??

and you must have signaled those exact words just by your expression

because he said “I’m telling you again, opposites attract. Don’t you at least wanna give it a try?”

of course you wanted to

“Alright…but I’ve never done this before” you said

“We’ll take it slow, I promise” he said

and then “That means I can finally tell you how goddamn adorable you are”

was it gonna be like this forever??? he compliments you and you feel like your cheeks are on fire???

probably

“I’ll bring you home, come on” he said, swinging his arm around your shoulder again

even this gesture made you shy

you didn’t even know how to respond

and this time, being behind him on the motorbike felt like a whole new sensation

now you were close to him, knowing he wanted you there as much as you did…

and it 100% made you scream on the inside

when he dropped you off, you didn’t know if you were supposed to hug him???

you awkwardly handed him his jacket back

“So, where are we going on our first date?” he asked

“First date?” you asked

“Yeah…people who date usually go on dates, don’t they?” he teased you

“Um…what about the cinema?” you suggested

“Fine, let’s see what they’re showing and I’ll text you, okay?” he said

and he texted you remotely fifteen minutes after you had arrived at home that night

…

so you went to the cinema the next day

before the date, you were essentially losing your mind

what were you supposed to wear??

would he care what you wore??

but even if he didn’t, you wanted to look pretty

your anxiety was kind of going through the roof for hours before he even arrived

he had picked you up, somehow looking even hotter than usually??

or maybe those were just your hormones going insane

“You look beautiful” he said when you had climbed onto the motorbike behind him

“And you look handsome” you had replied

his smile had a faint shyness in it, but only for the blink of a second

at the cinema, you weren’t sure how to act differently around a crush than when you were with friends tbh

did you want to hold his hand?? hell yeah

did you do it?? absolutely not

did you want to point out obsessed you were with his body art?? most certainly

did you?? oh no way, you weren’t gonna expose yourself like that (yet)

luckily, he was easy to talk to and had the patience of a saint

he grinned at you when you would become shy, as if it wasn’t the most embarrassing thing EVER to you, especially in front of him

he also probably called you cute like 13 times whilst you were waiting for the movie to begin alone

in the dark, your hands brushed whenever you both reached for the popcorn at the same time

when you looked over at him, he was chuckling

“Are you doing that on purpose?” he whispered

“No way!” you whispered back

“No? I am” he said

you didn’t even know how to respond to that

but he seemed very pleased with himself when he tilted his head at you flirtingly

were there supposed to be this many butterflies in your belly at only your first date?

what have I gotten myself into??? you thought

…

afterwards you walked back to his motorcycle, shoulders brushing now and then

you were in the middle of analyzing every second of the film you had watched, gesturing around in the air and talking excitedly

he leaned against his motorbike and grinned at you in pure admiration while he listened

mid-sentence you suddenly said “Sorry, did I get too invested in this? Do you wanna bring me home now?”

“What? No, if anything I wanna listen to you for another few hours” he said “Do you wanna come back to my place?”

you didn’t know if he was flirting or joking again, but his face was serious

plus you weren’t sure what ‘coming back to his place’ really intended

and once again his sense for reading your mind struck

“I’m not talking about having sex, if that’s why you look so worried. This is only our first date, remember? If you simply don’t feel like it, that’s cool, I’ll bring you home” he said

“No, I want to go with you” you quickly changed your mind “But I have to be home by midnight, or my parents will worry”

“I’ll get you back home by then” he said, smiling in triumph

…

his flat impressed you in a couple of ways

you admired that he already lived alone

plus it was so much more organized and cleaner than you had expected it from a college boy

his bedroom was your favorite part of the apartment

there was no doubt it was his and only his place

posters of his favorite films were plastered on the walls, his bedsheets were dark, a neon sign hung above the headboard of his bed and in the corner, a vinyl player stood

you loved the windowsill that gave you a view out of the fifth-floor flat and had the impulse to sit down there, to watch the cars pass by on the street underneath

“make yourself at home” he had said

and somehow you had ended up on his bed, right next to him

he let you rest your head on his arm while he listened to you

not only did you discuss the movie you had seen

you also talked about literally anything either of you loved

and you realized quickly, that aside from the different way of living, you had surprisingly many things in common

he put on his favorite plate on the vinyl player so you could listen to the music he loved

when he laid down next to you again, he offered his open arms

for the first time, you put your cheek against his chest, listening not only to the music but also his heartbeat

you remember liking his cologne and how warm he was

“I’ve never been so close to someone who wasn’t my friend or family” you admitted quietly

“Does it feel different?” he asked

“Of course” you said

did he not realize???

how your heart hammered against your ribcage and butterflies were flooding your belly and how there was only him in your head and his stupid cute smile and his tattoos and piercings and deep voice and ohmygodhisvoice

but when you looked up from his chest and checked his expression, he looked equally as fond as you felt

“Being with you feels different from being with other girls to me, too” he said

“It feels so much better” he added then

“What do you see in me that you don’t see in them?” you asked suddenly

“I have to admit, at first I thought it was cute, teasing you and seeing you get shy, well, I guess it still is. I liked the idea of getting to know someone with such a completely different image, so sweet and good” he said

and as he did, he softly brushed his hand over your lip

you thought you were going to have a heart attack

“But damn you’re so funny and kind…how can I not want you this way?” he said

and he looked so honest, almost vulnerable, a sight you never thought you’d see

“In which way?” you asked

“In every way” he said

and with one look, he erased all fears you’d had about him and how he might have felt about you

suddenly you understood why people went on dates all the time and searched for love…

at some point you realized how it was past midnight already

he drove you home quickly, and luckily you didn’t get into too much trouble with your parents

this time when he dropped you off, he gave you a hug that made you want to stay in his arms forever

from then on, your feelings could only get worse and you were stressed about what it would do to you

you thought your crush was bad then?? it was nothing

within the next weeks, you fell head over heels for the cliché bad boy and there was no way to stop it

you had told him you didn’t want to prioritize a relationship over your education

so 90% of your dates ended up being study dates

although he was the biggest distraction in your life, this way you at least got a little something done

usually, it went a little like this:

you’d be sitting down at a library table, with him across from you

your head would be buried in a book within minutes, only occasionally looking up at him

and he’d be busy telling you all things he could possibly come up with:

“Have I ever told you how gorgeous your eyes are? I know, even if you’re not looking at me”

“There’s a really cute girl here, but she’s ignoring me. Do you think she likes me too?”

“Hey, do you wanna go out with me sometime, like…on a date? A real date?”

“You know what other people do at the library? There’s an empty space way in the back, I can show you…”

yes sometimes he’d say suggestive things to you

but they were jokes, simply a part of his character

he never pressured you to do anything

even your first kiss took a while to occur

it was one night when he brought you home from a date (this time a real one)

when you said your goodbyes, you suddenly felt an overwhelming wave of affection

his eyes were so warm and only on you, always

softly, his tongue swept over his bottom lip, teeth toying with his piercing

“Can you kiss me?” you asked

something sparked in his eyes…he had won even more of your trust, and rightfully so

his fingers gently lifted your chin, and you always thought you’d be nervous through your first kiss, but no…it was serenity

it was butterflies peacefully floating and fireworks going off all at the same time

had you known how good this felt, you would have asked him to kiss you way earlier tbh

the whole evening until you fell asleep you couldn’t stop smiling

and you liked to think even in slumber, the corners of your mouth had been curled upwards because of him

from then on, kissing him had turned into your favorite pastime

it was especially bad when you tried to have “study dates” at his place

90% of the time, your studying turned into making out with him

oh? you’re taking a break and getting a glass of water from the kitchen? oops now you’re on his sofa, sitting in his lap and kissing

the way he handled you with such confidence and made flirty remarks all the way through your make-out-sessions only reminded you of his experience

sometimes you felt bad, knowing he was holding himself back

other days you wished he wasn’t so hesitant with touching you less innocently

but sometimes you did stop him, if his hands wandered a little too far down your torso, or if things seemed to get too steamy

he would always apologize, even if you told him there was nothing wrong

but his confidence made you feel more comfortable with every time you were in his arms

!!!SMUT AHEAD IN ITALICS

one day you were in the middle of watching a movie on his bed

but all you had been thinking of were his lips and hands

when you kissed him, things quickly turned more intense

only this time you asked him to go further

initially, he was worried

“I wish I could make this more special for you” he said

“If it’s with you, it’s perfect, no matter where and when” you assured him

the first time, he was the most gentle he’s ever been with you

because he had never pressured you and you had chosen this exact moment yourself, you weren’t even close to as nervous as you thought you’d be

and from then on, you only became more comfortable when it came to sex

you could tell he loved showing you and trying new things with you

and before you knew it, he was actually showing you that empty space at the back of the library he had joked about

usually, you were hesitant to do anything risky in public

but when it was late and the library was nearing closing hours, it was almost fully vacant

he could never get enough of your innocent eyes while your lips were wrapped around his cock, kneeling on the carpet floor of the university library in front of him

he’d never get over when he fucked you from behind, two of his fingers in your mouth, muffling your moans while you were hidden behind the bookshelves

other nights he’d show up outside of your house in the middle of the night, just because he missed you so much

*cough* querencia *cough*

there was something about nighttime that made you feel as if you were the only two people in the world

then it would be him and you in his bed, on his kitchen counter, his sofa, his shower or any random wall of his apartment

now you might have understood why the girls loved him

but they didn’t love him the way you did

!!!SMUT ENDING

he loved showing you off to his friends

some of them looked equally as intimidating as him

but as you had learned, most of that was simply looks and wasn’t to be taken seriously

when you hung out with his friends, he had you sitting in his lap, usually bragging about something you had done or said to him

you were like his personal, pretty gem and he was making sure everyone knew

and as much as he wanted you to be known to his friends, you wished you could have told your parents about him

one day, they would understand how much you loved him

they would be able to look past his tattoos and pierced skin and see how amazing he was

but for now, he was your little secret

every night, he sent you a goodnight text right before you went to sleep

sometimes he’d attach a picture of himself

in his pajamas, with messy hair and heavy eyelids, even he looked almost cute to you

other nights, when he was still out, it’d be a mirror selfie, with his hair pushed back perfectly, lifting his head so you’d see your favorite tattoo of his on his neck

his clothes pitch black and shirt lazily tucked into his belt on one side

his eyes would have the cocky gaze you knew from when you first met him

only now it was only meant for you

his message would read:

“I love you angel. See you in your dreams”

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beinmybonnet · 4 years ago

Text

29th June 1613 - London, England

“Remind me again why we’re doing this?

“He went to the trouble to have a draft carried all the way to Brandenburg for me, the least I can do is attend the opening night.”

Andromache rolls her shoulders into her partlet. “The least you can do maybe. Why am I doing this?”

“Because you missed me. And because you cried when we saw Othello.” Yusuf replies, looking sideways at her. Curbing the inevitable objection, Quynh squeezes Nicolò’s arm and strides forwards to overtake them. He lets himself be dragged after her, taking care not to tread on her skirts.

“I love the theatre. Plus, we’ve spent the last week sleeping in a shack in the Dales. This,” Quynh waves her free arm over the bridge rail, “is a nice change of scenery.”

London Bridge is teeming with people, the warmth of the bustle settling like cinders into his skin. The city writhes in its haste. Against the far bank of the Thames tall buildings strike against the horizon, the old Southwark Priory still reaching high in spent pride. Buildings are painted pale with dark beams striking bold across them. It is beautiful in its own way, Nicolò thinks. Inelegant, but unique.

“It wasn’t that bad. I still think we should have stayed a little longer, at least until-

“Andromache we’ve slept in nicer caves.”

Quynh glances back over her shoulder meaningfully, brow rising. Andromache shrugs. A smile, although few would recognise it. They step down onto the riverbank as one, turning east.

Nicolò nudges his shoulder into Yusuf as they pass the gardens. “You fail to mention you sent that script back with corrections.”

“Revisions. Small ones.” Yusuf’s voice is low, his expression impish. “Barely noticeable.”

“Ah, here we are.” Yusuf waves Andromache forward into their usual first-floor booth and steps back to allow Quynh to pass. Nicolò pauses, peering up the stairwell.

“Full house.”

“First performance. Trust me, this will be one to remember.” Yusuf is bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet, and it makes Nicolò want to tuck his chin over a bobbing shoulder.

“You’d think the city would be a bit more subdued,” Andromache settles herself on the bench tucking thick plum skirts around her calves. She happily accepts a bag of roasted hazelnuts from Yusuf as he passes her to stand at the balcony. “They’ve only just recovered from their last bout of plague.”

“Exactly! This is the power of art.” Yusuf beams, arm sweeping wide. “Look at these people.” All around them the crowd is seething with anticipation, the noise growing as the wait goes on. Children scramble in the lower level of the yard for better vantage points, clawing their way up the beams supporting the lower galleries. People are shouting and laughing and drinking, the sound cocooned tight within the impressive structure. A man swings a laughing boy up over the mass, and a small group of women pressed against the stage begin shouting a suspicious sounding rhyme, pointing across the pit. Before they can finish a man in the gallery beneath them roars his response across the yard.

Nicolò’s brow furrows. “Clot-pole? I don’t…”

“She’s calling him an idiot,” Andromache supplies, “and insulting his hat.”

“It is a bit much.” Quynh’s leaning over the balcony to get a better look. “I think she’s accusing him of, err – short-changing her. Last night.”

Still grinning, Yusuf peers over beside her. “Oh, she’s quite angry. Here we go.” He sounds delighted. What looks like a parsnip sails over the head of the crowd. “A pity, she’ll want those for the third act.”

Quynh’s now bent almost double over the bannister and Andromache reaches to steady her without looking. “Isn’t this sort of thing that made the man move half of the troupe over to Blackfriars?”

Yusuf shakes his head in fond exasperation. “Ah, William has become far too prudish in his success. The engagement of the audience is the nature of theatre.”

“Engagement?” Nicolò smirks as something below meets its mark with a splat and a shout.

“Well, you cannot deny their enthusiasm-”

Quynh reappears with a whoop of triumph clutching her prize; a browning cabbage intercepted in the air. She rotates the rotten vegetable in careful examination. “Excellent.”

Yusuf raises his hand in hopeless protest as Nicolò leans back in his seat, eyeing Quynh. “10 crowns says you can’t hit the stage from here.”

She snorts derisively.

“20 if you can take King Henry off his feet.” Andromache counters, rising slightly to gauge the distance. Done, Quynh agrees happily, settling beside her and tucking her cabbage under the bench. Yusuf mutters an exasperated appeal for help to the heavens and Nicolò quickly tugs him down into the remaining space with a hand over his knee.

The parting of the stage curtain prompts the dropping of remaining projectiles and an enthusiastic cheer from the crowd. The herald clears his throat, steps to the edge of the stage and spreads his arms.

The first and happiest hearers of the town,

I come no more to make you laugh; things now,

That bear a weighty and a serious brow,

Sad, high, and working, full of state and woe,

Such noble scenes as draw the eye to flow,

We now present. Those that can pity, here

May, if they think it well, let fall a tear;

Be sad, as we would make ye

“Oh, so a comedy?” Quynh says brightly and Yusuf shushes her.

The first actors emerge from the wings in their velvets and the tale takes flight.

In all this noble bevy, has brought with her

One care abroad; he would have all as merry

As, first, good company, good wine, good welcome,

Can make good people. O, my lord, you're tardy:

Yusuf is mouthing the words soundlessly, engrossed.

There are many things Nicolò has enjoyed about visiting theatres over the years. He will readily admit this performance is an enjoyable one - the young man playing Buckingham is particularly charismatic, the audience viscerally immersed in his indignation. The actors proudly deliver their lines and their story to an increasingly hypnotised audience.

But the play itself has never been what really draws Nicolò to this place. He glances sideways again and immediately, expectedly, loses the thread of the plot. In this moment the talent on the stage could never hope to hold his interest as he sits beside this man. Yusuf has lost himself entirely to the unfolding tale, gaze flitting from figure to figure calling below. Passion alight in his eyes. The arts do this to him in a way Nicolò has seen nothing else in all their time together. They have walked familiar paths in gallery halls for hours on end, Yusuf’s eyes roving walls of painted expression. They’ve sat in houses of the dying and listened to children bringing comfort with songs of naivety. Literature, dance, poetry, music; in all their changing forms they have always arrested Yusuf in his entirety.

These things give people freedom Nicolò, true freedom, he had once said. Free of limitation and expectation, in art people reveal their true selves. It is beautiful.

For Nicolò, that beauty is reflected blindingly in Yusuf’s own experience. To watch him like this for the rest of his given days would see him depart this earth achingly grateful to his God.

But Yusuf feels his distraction and leans toward him. “You’re missing it,” he murmurs, smile pulling impossibly wider. Unbridled delight is etched at the edges of his eyes, and Nicolò wants to trace his fingertips over the creases. He only realises he has reached out and done so when Yusuf captures and kisses his palm. “Watch the play.”

“It is a story still within living memory, I know how it ends,” Nicolò whispers.

Yusuf will not have it, nodding towards the actors. “Watch them tell it.”

Anne Boleyn is drifting across the stage, hand at her chest and Nicolò turns dutifully back to the performance.

Was he mad, sir?

O, very mad, exceeding mad, in love too:

But he would bite none; just as I do now,

He would kiss you twenty with a breath.

This time it’s Yusuf’s eyes that flicker back towards him and Nicolò hears silent words in the curl of his lip. Twenty kisses in a single breath. A risky venture, no?

Nicolò hums, his thoughts mirrored beside him. We shall see.

Good lord chamberlain,

Go, give 'em welcome; you can speak the French tongue;

And, pray, receive 'em nobly, and conduct 'em

Into our presence, where this heaven of beauty

Shall shine at full upon them. Some attend him.

You have now a broken banquet; but we'll mend it.

A good digestion to you all: and once more

I shower a welcome on ye; welcome all!

King Henry VIII emerges from the curtains with a flourish, the actor clearly taking great pains not to stumble in breeches that billow around his knees. The theatre bursts into applause as a round of trumpets sound, and they shout their approval at the blast of a canon from the rafters. The actors move to their marks to begin the scene in earnest, and Andromache leans forward with interest for the first time.

“See, I told you! With the funding now available, they’ve really spared no expense,” Yusuf is still clapping. Andromache hums noncommittally sitting back, but her eyes are suddenly bright with curiosity.

“Quynh, if you’re going to win your money, I suggest you do it now.”

“Why? I was going to wait until the trial scene,” she replies, confused.

From his place beside her Nicolò can see clearly that Andromache is struggling to suppress a smirk. “Well, there won’t be much left by then.”

“What?” Quynh looks down the bench at him. He shrugs. Andromache sighs around her growing amusement.

Seconds pass before she speaks again.

“They’ve set the roof on fire.”

He doesn’t need long to piece together what’s happened. There’s a thin plume of smoke rising from the inner curve of the roof and within, a flicker of light no bigger than that from a candle waving gently in the rafters. The canon. They wadded the canon, he realises. The little flame wafts higher in the breeze. The crowd is oblivious, too focused on the stage to be looking upwards. He taps Yusuf’s thigh.

It does take a moment. “Oh dear.” Yusuf looks back and forth between the roof and the stage, face falling. “Well maybe-

There’s a loud pop as the flame meets eager fuel. It dances up into the thatch lining the hooped roof and flares wide and greedy. Whip fast, it licks across the reeds consuming them in crunches and cracks that have people now looking skywards and shouting. Those in the highest galleries rear back as the fire completes its rapid circuit of the roof. By the time the actors have abandoned their attempts at continuing and stand dumbstruck on the stage, the theatre is ringed in an ominous halo of flame.

“Yusuf, unless your intention is a repeat of ’54…” Quynh trails off sadly, holding her cabbage.

Clumps of lit thatch are beginning to drift into the standing audience and the pushing and shoving follows in earnest. One man charges through the crowd braying, his breeches alight. Andromache stands looking decidedly more cheerful. “Come on, we’ll help them clear the pit.”

Nicolò follows suit, a hand falling to Yusuf’s shoulder. He has to work to quell an absurd urge to laugh; Yusuf is glaring at the roof with all the stubbornness of a chastised child. He squeezes gently, sympathy winning out. “I’m sorry.”

“Canons, who on earth thought canons in a wooden building was…” Yusuf trails off, glancing up. “Nothing to be done I suppose.” He holds out his other hand. “Shall we?”

Drawing Yusuf up behind him, Nicolò moves out into the stairwell twisting up into the higher galleries where people are starting to pile down in haste. An older man stumbles in the rush and he reaches out to steady him. “Careful, sir. Head out towards the river.”

The man nods and quickly hurries on pressing his handkerchief to his mouth. The next woman through the door snatches her arm up to her chest before he can move to offer any assistance. Dirty papist she spits as she veers away. Yusuf tenses, a hard line pressed at his back. Nicolò just dips his head.

“Please hurry.”

By the time the flow of people has ebbed the flames are beginning to consume the ornate stage pillars. The curtains masking backstage catch like parchment and blaze furiously. “We should make sure the galleries are clear,” he says, “you take the east, I the west?”

Yusuf eyes the roof timbers warily. “Five minutes. No more.”

In the end it only takes Nicolò four minutes to usher the last stubborn gamblers from the gentleman’s room. The fact that the smoke has now crept down to waist level speeds this along nicely, and they hurry to the stairwell hunched and coughing. Nicolò stays low, following them down the last steep flight when his foot catches on something in the darkness, almost putting his hand through the adjacent wall in an attempt to steady himself. There’s a man slouched in the corner, limbs sprawled wide and snoring. An empty bladder clutched to his chest. The strength of the brandy fumes punch through the dense smoke to further sting at his eyes and his irritation almost threatens to outweigh his conscience. Almost.

By the time he staggers out into clear air dragging his oblivious charge Nicolò know he’s been much longer than five minutes. Behind him there’s a crash which sounds very much like the galleries have finally given in and collapsed. Sounds like, because his eyes are clenched shut, burning and watering. Pressing his hands to his knees, he tries not to gag on the tar in his throat.

A hand settles on the back of his neck whilst another cups a palmful of water to his face. Nicolò winces.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps, “He’s heavier than he looks.”

He can hear Yusuf grinding his teeth but his response is surprisingly placid. “Rinse your eyes.”

Yusuf presses a water skin into his hands and moves away. When Nicolò’s vision has cleared he spots him back near the eastern entrance, patiently shepherding two enraptured boys further from the fire as they gape at the sky. Even for one who has seen much, Nicolò must admit, it is quite a sight.

The playhouse’s cylindrical shape has moulded the fire into a twirling steeple of flame inside the structure, now reaching twenty feet clear of the building itself. The Globe resembles an enormous cauldron struggling to hold its roiling contents. It belches clouds of thick black smoke as its rim splinters and cracks under the pressure and heat. What’s left of the thatch continues to feed the furnace, keeping the flames bright and fierce.

Quynh appears, sliding her hand into the crook of his elbow to steer him away. She leads him to a grassy curve of the riverbank where people are congregating in groups and beginning to resettle on the ground. From one muse to another, the audience remain eager spectators, gasping and whooping as the bones of the building begin to break, sending up showers of sparks. Yusuf and Andromache join them just as the walls start to keel inwards.

“You were right, definitely one of his more memorable works,” Andromache announces as they sit. “Perhaps my favourite.”

“Yes, I’m so very glad you enjoyed yourself.” Yusuf’s tone is flat, but his eyes roll indulgently.

Quynh settles herself back against Andromache’s bent knees, facing the playhouse. “We can still make a night of it. We get a bottle of wine, some pastries. Watch the sunset.” Her voices softens slightly and she levels her gaze at them. “You really must go so soon?”

He looks to Yusuf, who nods. “We have passage on a ship to Antwerp. She leaves on the tide tomorrow morning.”

Quynh’s sigh is dejected. “You won’t consider staying just a little longer? We’re moving on to…” she trails off, peering up at Andromache – Devon, she supplies, “We could use your help relocating these women. The trials are becoming barbaric.”

Yusuf shakes his head, surveying the crowd. “I’d prefer not to tempt fate. London is not at its most welcoming for us presently.

Nicolò quirks his lip. “You mean for me.” Ah, he sees now. The woman from earlier is stood just a little further up the bank, clutching at well-dressed man and pointing at them. Yusuf stares back unflinchingly. Nicolò feels him shift to further block her line of sight to him.

Then he turns back to meet Nicolò’s eye and speaks firmly. “For us. If a place does not welcome you, it does not welcome me.”

Quynh has watched the exchange carefully and suddenly sits up. She clears her throat and calls out loudly enough for those nearest to turn. “Thou art a boil, madam, a plague sore!”

Andromache snorts and the woman raises her fan to her face appalled, tugging on her husband’s arm. It has the intended effect on Yusuf though and his grin returns to its proper place. Nicolò feels a familiar rush of affection for Quynh and her unfailing ability to put people at ease.

“King Lear,” Yusuf says proudly. “I didn’t think you were paying attention.”

“Of course she was,” Andromache interjects, “It’s a magnum opus of insults.”

Quynh grins up at her. “Oh, you worsted-stockinged knave.”

The retort is instant. “Brazen-faced varlet.”

“Ancient ruffian.”

Andromache shrugs. “Accurate.”

Their laughter comes in easy unison and Yusuf’s expression is unbearably soft as he watches them. “It won’t be for long,” he promises.

Quynh pulls her eyes from Andromache and nods. “Probably a sensible choice at the moment. You do look violently Venetian Nicolò.

He wrinkles his nose, affronted. “I do not-”

Yusuf is reaching for his face, so he pauses his protest for the gentle pass of a thumb over the bridge of his nose. “It’s your profile my love.” Yusuf’s tongue darts out over the pad of his thumb before it returns to rub more firmly at his nose. “Which currently is very sooty.”

With his hands still upon Nicolò’s face he murmurs. “Oh but what a piece of work is this man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an angel,” Yusuf blinks, his sincerity blinding, “in apprehension how like a god.”

It’s all Nicolò can do not to rub his flushed cheeks into Yusuf’s palms like an alley cat.

Andromache arches a refined brow at Quynh. “Nicolò gets a Hamletian ode to his soul, and I get ‘ruffian’?”

Quynh rocks onto her elbow in the grass without missing a beat. “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Mayhap a smouldering playhouse, ablaze in righteous flame?

“Likened to a smoking wreckage, how romantic.”

Nicolò would laugh but Yusuf is still holding his gaze and his face, everything else muting around him. He does this; bestows his love in soft declarations that leave Nicolò stunned, and then holds him steady until the words perfuse. Nicolò loves him so much he feels he might combust, with all the ferocity of the fire at his back.

Centuries before, he had allowed his disbelief to ask a question once, and only once. The intensity frightening him. Could a gift such as this truly be his eternal?

Nicolò smiles at his world and whispers.

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

So long lives this, and gives life to thee.

held in the embers on ao3 at theexistentialteapot

part one of this series can be found here

#god this one took years off me #but it's done!#thank you bones for the final shove over the finish line #i am so soft for this found family #and they deserve happy memories #yusuf would 1000% have been a theatre kid #the headcanon is lodged #userbones #usermarwan #tusermj #tuserceleste #the old guard fic #the old guard #mine

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