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spencersmagic · 4 years ago

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a knife twists at the thought - SR

Prompt: a knife twists at the thought that i should fall short of the mark - Arctic Monkeys

Summary: Spencer is new to this, and the poor boy is terrified

Couple: Fem! Reader x Spencer Reid (i picture season 2/3 Spencer but y’all do you)

Category: angst

Word count: 3086 words

Warnings: general criminal minds stuff, mentions and descriptions of torture, descriptions of loss, HAPPY ENDING!!, my 3am writing, tooth rotting love, uhmm spoilers for Orwell’s 1984 (if anybody hasn’t read it), humiliation, Spencer crying and breaking my heart (lmk if you need anything warned or trigger tagged).

A/N This is very loosely based on 2x15 (VERY LOOSELY). I’m quite proud of this one :)

masterlist // 505 series taglist

*****

They say you never see it coming.

When a tragedy occurs, and someone’s life is turned upside down forever, they never see it coming. It just... hits them. Like an oncoming car ramming into a bystander who was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

No one has time to prepare. In our time-starved lives, there is no place for such a warning.

One day, you just wake up. And they’re not next to you. They’ve disappeared, leaving the stickiest, most unforgettable parts of themselves behind for others to grieve to: the smell of their shampoo in the pillows they used to share, the seconds just as you wake when you still feel like you have them - only to gain full consciousness and realise they left you behind - even the fucking jars, which never seem to be open because he’s just not there to do it.

And you feel your heart breaking all over again as your soul sticks to the parts that couldn’t be erased with the rest of him as he left. Because you needed him, you had him, and now he’s gone. No warning, no letter, no signs which could’ve helped you foresee such a tragedy, because how could he? He didn’t disappear on purpose.

She doesn’t understand why he's so absent. So unequivocally missing. And the person she would turn to to ask these riddled questions isn’t there to answer. Because he’s gone.

But they’re not there yet.

And she feels so close to that feeling - the helplessness, the pain, the empty cups next to her bed because he always carried them to the sink when she was finished with her tea the mornings of those rare days they got to sleep in. Those days when they had time. She can practically touch, with the tip of her fingertips, the waves of pain that would surge over her if he was gone for one more fucking minute.

She has to remind herself, over and over again, like a mantra. He’s not gone yet.

The “yet” at the end of her mantra just breaks her all over again.

She was always the one to tell Spencer “if you worry before something happens, in case it goes wrong, and then it does, you’ve managed to suffer twice through something painful for absolutely no reason”. It usually worked. Needless to say, she felt like a hypocrite right about now.

Because Spencer is gone. And she doesn’t know how to bring him back.

She knows only to watch the monitor, never once blinking, taking in everything that happened in that damned livestream - every word, every sound, every reference. She can only try to hear anything over the whimpers and sobs her love was letting out as he’s tortured by that man. She can only hear the cracks of his knuckles against Spencers soft skin, the same soft skin she had kissed mere hours ago before telling him to “be careful”. Her own way of saying the three little words the couple was too young to hear. She can only see his lips parting, sobs rumbling out of his body as the unsub abuses his frame over and over again - same lips which had kissed her forehead before telling her “i always am”.

Then again, she isn’t sure if its his voice which is filling her head with painful sounds or if her mind is playing tricks on her, memorising the horrifying vibrations coming from his chest for her to ever consider anything else. She hasn’t stopped hearing him since she turned on that damned computer.

She isn’t sure she’ll ever stop hearing it.

As a man of great intellect, Spencer always recurred to knowledge to understand difficult occurrences in his life. Burying himself in textbooks, novels, poems, and even music to understand pain, and himself having a life filled with it, he was an incredibly knowledgeable man.

He knew much. But right now, he only knew one thing.

In Orwells’ 1984, as Winston was being tortured (much like Spencer is right now), Orwell described the following:

“Never, for any reason on earth, could you wish for an increase of pain. Of pain you could only wish one thing: that it should stop. Nothing in the world was so bad as physical pain. In the face of pain there are no heroes, no heroes”.

And, as a man who had acquired most of his intellect by immersing himself in trivial content in the face of pain, he found himself doing the same thing as the unsub hurt him over and over again, each blow seemingly more painful than the last. As his skin bruised, a causality of his abusers torment, he analysed the seemingly logical quote.

It must depend on the person, he was sure. In fact, a number of factors must be taken into consideration at this statement. For starters, Winston lives in a society incapable of any human feelings. There is only dominance, and those who attempt, in vain, to challenge it. Surely, if he had felt happiness, like the one you feel when the first day of spring rolls around, or like the one that creeps up on you as you look into the eyes of your loved one, surely, he would understand that some things can outweigh pain.

Love.

If Spencer’s mind could make sense of what he was feeling right now, he would understand, something he would figure of were he to leave this damned place, that he was thankful to the Gods, were there any, for having the unsub kidnap him and not Y/N.

Winston hadn’t understood emotional pain because emotions weren’t dealt with regularly. They were discouraged. That’s why he believed that there are no heroes in the face of pain. Because he doesn’t understand emotional pain.

He knew he was suffering. He also knew that Y/N was at the other side of the blinking camera suffering more than he could ever imagine.

They say emotional pain lasts 12 minutes. Anything one feels after this would be the aftermath of the cause of the pain in question. Pure emotional pain, the one you practically feel in your chest, the one that says “i can’t think, feel or be. not until this feeling dissipates”.

She had learned this from Spencer.

And she wished it were true. As she watched that damned monitor, she wished that all the venom the unsub was spewing at Spencer, all the verbal abuse, was long forgotten. She wished he could only feel the physical pain. Because the mind is incredibly stronger than the body - it could keep him awake, alive, for just enough time for the team to rescue him.

The entire team had huddled around the monitor around her. She was painfully aware that other people were seeing this. Which meant it wasn’t her imagination. It wasn’t another one of those damned dreams she would have when she slept a little too far away from Spencer’s touch.

They had only been together for two months, but his touch was all that could get her to fall asleep.

She jolted as the unsub landed another slap on Spencer’s cheek, swiftly grabbing his hair for him to look into the camera. He had a cut above his right cheek, just where she would kiss him in the mornings, and bruises all over his neck, jaw and left eye.

“Say hi to your team!” he mocked Spencer, chuckling darkly as he moved his almost lifeless body around for the team to watch in horror. Spencer let out a heartbreaking sob, feeling so vulnerable.

“Why don’t we make this interesting?” he jumped, as if he had gotten an idea. The unsub reached behind himself to grab a pistol, clicking off the magazine safety to put one bullet in one of the eight slots, leaving the other seven free. He pointed it at Spencer’s temple.

Her entire body shook the thought of seeing Spencer’s lifeless body, held up only by the ropes and that sick man’s grip around his curls. The same curls she grabbed as she kissed his face when she wanted his attention.

“I’m going to ask you some questions...” he said, voice dripping with sickening sweetness as he turned the roulette, “and if i don’t like your answer i’ll pull the trigger! Let God decide what I do with you. Sounds good?”. He wanted to humiliate Spencer.

However, Spencer made the mistake of not answering him. He was quickly reminded as the barrel of the gun pointed right between his eyes, pulling the trigger, a loud bang! sound expanding through the barn.

“I asked you a question!” he suddenly yelled into Spencer’s face.

“Y-yes, Sir” he whimpered, shaking at the ease at which the man pulled the trigger.

“Good, you’re learning”.

She experienced it by bits. Hotch’s hoarse voice. “Talk to me Garcia”. “We’ve got coordinates”. Everybody rushing to the SUVs. Tripping over her own feet on the way to the car. Morgan’s voice. The iPad, which still carried Spencer’s whimpers and the man mocking tone.

“I’ve got your diary, Spence” his sing-song voice didn’t match the disgusting man she was looking at. Nothing made sense.

“And I wanna know why...” he drew out the ‘y’ as he looked for something between the worn pages between his hands.

Of course she knew Spencer owned a diary. But she was mature enough to keep her hands to herself and her eyes on her own pages as he wrote on his, eyebrows creasing as he recalled all which he had experienced during the day. His face would twitch slightly at the memories, both good and bad, as he basically described his day word by word.

“...why did you wait until you were 24 to lose your virginity?” he asked in a clear attempt to humiliate and ridicule Spencer in front of his team.

“I-I didn't-” he could barely finish a word before a sob wrecking through his body at the humiliation, chest rumbling and voice wavering. “I didn’t want to lose it before, i w-wasn’t in a hurry” he rushed out. The man brought the pistol to his own chin, tapping it as he thought. “Hmm... I’m satisfied with your answer. Let’s dig deeper, shall we?” he asked as he went back into the pages.

“ooh! This one is new” that sick bastard was having fun with this, completely unaware that the team was less than 5 minutes away from their location.

“Care to read what you wrote three days ago? Right here” he turned the pages so Spencer could read them, though he was painfully aware of that entry he was talking about. His body shook violently. “P-please. D-don’t ma-make me do t-this” he whimpered, body feeling defeated.

“Wrong answer” the unsub said before pointing a gun at him and pulling the trigger.

A shriek was heard from the iPad. The SUV went silent.

“He’s alive” she whispered, unable to speak up. “He-” she swallowed. “He’s alive. We’re not there, yet” her mantra became a reminder that she hadn’t been quick enough to help him. She had the tools to save him. Every second she had the knowledge to save him and didn’t was another second she remained impotent at the risk of losing the love of her life.

Spencer’s voice spoke from the iPad.

“C-can you at-at leas-st turn off t-the ca-amera?” he said between sobs.

And it hit her.

What hurt him the most wasn’t the memories he had to relieve, but the fact that the rest of the team would have to hear his most intimate thoughts. His deepest secrets.

He could bare the pain. The humiliation? That broke him.

“Aww” the unsub chuckled mockingly, “are you embarrassed?” he said, slouching down to look into his eyes. “Well too fucking bad!” he screamed into his face, spitting with every word he spewed at him. Spencer’s sobs got louder.

“O-okay okay!” Spencer caved, accepting the journal that got shoved into his face.

“Read, pretty boy” the unsub sang. That son of a bitch was having fun.

“We’re two minutes away, Y/N” Hotch said. Maybe it was he sobs, which were barely audible to herself, having accepted them as second nature after all the heartbreak she was experiencing, but Hotch needed her to be okay.

His own heart thumped into his chest, feeling as helpless as he’d ever felt. Seeing a member of his team - someone he was supposed to take care of, someone he was supposed to keep safe - was sobbing as he was physically and emotionally tortured. But he was painfully aware of the feelings Y/N was experiencing. The sheer fear that was running down her veins at the idea of them running out of time.

After a few sobs, Spencer started reading, interrupting himself occasionally with his whimpers:

“It’s been three months. Today, three months, seven hours and forty-six minutes ago, she did what I didn’t have the courage to do. She asked me out. “I’ve been wanting to ask you pretty much since the day i met you” she had said. Those words keep ringing in my head like a beautifully written symphony, intrinsically designed to make me face my deepest fears. Opening my scars one by one, dissecting them and reaching the simple conclusion that i was a coward.

She didn’t say it, but what she meant was “i’ve been waiting for you to do it, but you never did, so i had to”. We wasted time - a time so precious and sacred - because i was a coward.

I’ve never felt like this before. I never understood a love so deep as to move something so stubborn as the human spirit. I’ve read textbook after textbook, and novel after novel, and still I’ve never learned more than with her. But I was a coward. And i wasted her time. I fear that I still am.

A knife twists at the thought that i should fall short of the mark. It’s impossible for me to ever be enough for her”.

Her heart broke at this confession. Even worse at the thought that he wouldn’t’ve told her, instead inhaling fear and exhaling rejection at every breath he took next to her.

“We’re here” she heard Hotch, looking at her. She grabbed a bottle of water and dropped the iPad, not hearing the teams objections at the lack of vest and preparation and ran into the barn.

She isn’t sure if she’ll ever stop hearing his whimpers. As she runs closer, she hears them louder and louder, decorated with sobs and cries, and small, meaningless replies to his abusers’ mocking words.

She kicked the door down, the loud bang booming across the room, only helping in raising Spencer’s sobs as he feared the sound had been the result of a certain trigger being pulled. As she looks at him, she realises just how much pain he’s been put through.

She remembers Orwells words, much like how Spencer had remembered them mere hours ago. And disagrees, wishing over and over, praying to the Gods that she would be the victim of such atrocious abuse. She wished she could take his pain. Morgan joined her at her side mere seconds later, yelling. “FBI! Put the gun down!”.

Spencer used the last bit of energy to lunge forward, hitting the unsubs stomach with his head, successfully getting him on the floor for Morgan to apprehend. Y/N rushed to Spencer’s side, untying him, as his now nonexistent sobs grew louder and louder, not only at the prospect of getting out of that horrible place alive, but also at the knowledge that Y/N had heard what he had so dreadfully recited.

Spencer collapsed into her arms, crying into her in the same way she was crying into him, and she wondered just how to take away all his pain. So they cried into each other, desperately grasping each others hair, skin, clothes, anything that would make them feel like they wouldn’t have to spend another damned second without the company of each other.

Spencer was the first to break the silence.

“I need-” he stopped, coughing. She reached for the bottle of water she had brought with her because she knew he would need it. She always knew what he needed.

He chugged it desperately, stray drops falling down his chin at his eagerness. He took a deep breath trying to steady his lungs.

“I need to get out of here” he choked out.

She grabbed him under the shoulders, careful not to hurt him - not being successful, realising that there wasn’t much of him the man hadn’t hurt. Y/N pulled him out, sitting down on the grass with him. Their legs intertwined, pulling each other impossibly closer. They kissed, over and over again. Not as an act of any sexual relevance, but as a reminder that they had each other in any way, shape or form. That they weren’t out of time.

The team was certain they would stay there, never letting each other go for another minute.

After what felt like seconds in their time-starved little world, she broke the silence, which had only been filled with their own cries and occasional sobs.

“Spence” she grabbed his chin to look into his eyes. They were dull, red and hooded. He was exhausted. “Mhmm?” he let out, looking into hers. She was his solace.

“How could you ever think you were anything but completely and unequivocally enough?” she whispered the words he dreaded.

But as Spencer looked into her eyes he knew, better than he had ever known anything, that he was enough. And she was enough. He realised that which she had known for the past three months (possibly longer). They fit like two marvellous puzzle pieces.

Her hands grabbed his cheeks slowly, as to not hurt or startle him, pulling his forehead into hers. “Baby, I can’t imagine anybody else waking up to me every morning. You’re so much more than enough”, she planted a small kiss on his forehead before resuming her position. “I’ll remind you every day of the rest of my life if that’s what it takes for you to believe it”.

And with their eyes closed, foreheads and noses pressed together and legs tangled between each other, pulling each other close, closer - around grass and voices and his abuser pressed into the hood of a police car, they only felt each other. With their shaky breaths, even shakier voices, fearing any words that would leave them in case they triggered a cascade of tears down their oh so vulnerable cheeks, they were more than enough.

***

I hope y’all liked it!! Feel free to let me know by liking, reblogging, or sending me a message :)

super cool kid taglist: @lady-anon-x @spencerreid-mgg @eoupe @inlovewithbabygirl @galaxydefenderjulia @username2002

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swordheld · 4 years ago

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hi my dear ,

idk if u have anything on like looking through someone else’s lit window at night? and the peace and the connection? hopefully u have it somewhere in ur library of vibes! i’m looking for a good poem to memorise u see

oh to take a piece of art and decide to keep it with you always is such a wonderful thing! i am truly wishing you all my best in your process of memorization! for your ease, i’m going to try and keep to shorter recommendations, and throw in a fun one if you’re feeling brave!

during the impossible age of everyone by ada limón, is one i have personally memorized and i love finding pieces of it everywhere i go. it feels near-magic, like a prompt i can recite softly to come back to the world. “i want to be terrific, even for an hour,” and ”your shoes are piled up with mine, and the heat comes on, makes a simple noise, a dog-yawn. people have done this before, but not us.” are both lines constantly bouncing around my head like a dvd player screensaver.

meditations in an emergency by cameron awkward-rich, because i will always repeat to myself this piece in its’ entirety whenever i hear the words “hand on my heart,” i will go to say “hand on my stupid heart,” because it feels like the final puzzle piece, slotting perfectly into place.

dogfish by mary oliver, which is a longer piece, but even if you just aim for pieces of it, i think you’ll find yourself coming back to it again and again, until you have the whole of it in your head like a wrapped gift. “i wanted to hurry into the work of my life; i wanted to know, whoever i was, i was alive for a little while,” as well as the popular line of “mostly, i want to be kind,” are well-worn and well-loved for good reasons.

wild geese by mary oliver for good measure as well, because there is nothing like that poem. it’s one that was made to be tucked neat and kind in your pocket, warn soft by your hands. “you do not have to be good,” and “tell me about despair, yours, and i will tell you mine,” as well as “whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting - over and over announcing your place in the family of things.” the whole of it feels like seeing a light on in the distance and knowing you are not the only thing that is alive, here, and the wonder of that.

the conditional by ada limón, because there is nothing like this poem in the middle of the night. not only is it lovely like a lighthouse on the sea’s horizon, it’s also incredibly fun to speak aloud: “say we never get to see it: bright future, stuck like a bum star, never coming close, never dazzling. say we never meet her. never him. say we spend our last moments staring at each other, hands knotted together, clutching the dog, watching the sky burn. say, it doesn't matter. say, that would be enough. say you'd still want this: us alive, right here, feeling lucky.” that is truly already half of the poem itself, right here, but there isn’t a sentence i don’t love; it all just flows so perfectly together, each to the next, as if it was written to be kept with you, in the dark of night.

and for a bonus fun round, some quotes !

“you have to love. you have to feel. it is the reason you are here on earth. you are here to risk your heart.” (louise erdrich)

“are you still alone in bed? is it morning yet where you are? the smoke turns to rain as usual. listen, my love. this year is just a visitor & next year’s ghost. take care of it because yes — yes, you do deserve flowers for once in your life. you will be the only one left. so hold my hand & call me tomorrow. we are all here.” (michael wasson)

“you must realize that something is happening to you, that life has not forgotten you, that it holds you in its hand and will not let you fall.” (rainer maria rilke)

“i am out with lanterns, looking for myself.” (emily dickinson)

“not that i want to be a god or a hero. just to change into a tree, grow for ages, not hurt anyone.” (czesław miłosz)

let me know how your endeavour goes, love! very excited to see what wonders await you when you keep a bit of light behind your ear and in your pocket. 💚

#birdsong.#q&a.#i hope i hit the area that you were wanting in terms of concept and genre ! !#let me know if you're looking for anything else ! i'd love to pour through the collections anytime for you ! ! 🥰

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sly-merlin · 4 years ago

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Soulmate headcanon : jaemin

fluff fluff fluff fluff fluff

“I’ve my viva exam today so stay shut for the next five hours okay. Not a beep! Do you hear me?” you warned your soulmate who you knew was listening to you, thanks to your bond.

He didn’t respond.

“Jaemin! Do you hear me?”

SiLeNCe

“Jaemin what the fuck! Answer me.” your heartbeat quickened as the only times jaemin failed to reply was when he was injured or sick and that happened at least twice a week so you had the right to be worried sick!

“Jaemin did you get hur-

“You said stay sHuT FoR FiVE HouRS” he mimicked. Relief washed over you and you could only sigh at his antics.

“It’s seven in the morning. Can you be a little serious for once?”

The thing is that you can hear his voice when his words are directed specifically at you. Same is the case on his side. But everyone’s bonds have some flaws so sometimes you end up participating in conversations you weren’t supposed to be a part of in the first place!

And the whole i-am-you-soulmate-so-i-will-speak-whenever-i-want system could only be stopped at 21, when everyone was supposed to find their other half. How romantic. And how lazy of the universe!

He loved making most of the soulmate bond you had and without any doubt, you liked the boy but a human needs some peace that he never gave you and you certainly weren’t interested in hearing about his day while you were in the bathroom but quoting jaemin- “he can’t see you so it’s not an invasion of privacy!”

If it wasn't enough, his friends also sent you random messages in the middle of the night. You were SO DONE.

He was a sweetheart but too much sugar wasn’t something you could handle.

“All the best! Don’t get nervous like last time.”

You giggled a little when you heard his kissy noises in your head.

~spongebob time lapse~

It was your turn and you were nervous but you couldn’t comprehend why because you had memorised everything and you technically SHOULD know everything but OH LORD YOU REMEMBERED NOTHING!

Fuck jaemin for jinxing you in the morning!

It was so amusing that even when silent, jaemin had his ways of hijacking your thoughts.

But for the love of god, with an empty head, the examiner looked scary.

Right when he asked a question, you heard some noises!

Tip tap toe! Bad luck wanna change its name to y/n.

You gripped your skirt, tried your best to drown out the screeches of your soulmate but nothing helped! He was just too loud.

Your professor was polite enough to ask again and you were about to answer when certain words were shouted on the other side and you found yourself spilling the same to the horror of your examiner.

“SEXY!”

Slapping your mouth shut with your hand, you got up suddenly and bowed in embarrassment, explaining that this wasn’t your fault but someone else’s, who was sitting in the other part of the country, living just to make your life miserable!

Your professor understood. He had witnessed too many identical incidents to be even mad at you and you were GLAD!

But Jaemin was not!

He knew you were going to boil him once you were done and he could only wish you both wouldn’t turn 21 anytime soon because he wanna live JUST A LITTLE MORE!

Taglist : @elysianahhh

Masterlist

#nct-writers #neowritingsnet #cznnet #kafenetwork #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct reactions #jaemin scenarios #jaemin fluff #jaemin imagines #nct drabbles #nct headcanons #nct dream x reader #nct dream scenarios #nct dream imagines #nct dream fluff

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timextoxhajima · 4 years ago

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Not For Sale: Week 4

NOT FOR SALE CHAPTER NAVIGATION

Member: Heeseung + Jay [and other members]

Pairings: [fem] uni exchange student! reader x uni student! HS x uni student! Jay

Warnings: swearing, inappropriate jokes LOL

Word Count: 2.5k + 19 SM screenshots

Synopsis/Quote: In which your oblivious ass cannot tell that a popular boy in your class has a big, fat crush on you | “It seems like the one who was ruined was me.”

Taglist: @hyunjaethereal @haechanhues @sunqnyu @bloom-bloom-pow @seasideheeseung @wooya1224 @gratefulmaria @sunshineshouchan @youreverydayzebra @fayqj [drop me a dm/ask/comment to be added!]

A/N: this chapter has quite a few screenshot images so try not to click on them to view as there are still blocks of texts in between!

OC is memorising her notes to: Erik Satie - Gymnopédie No. 1

The morning dew hangs in the air like a reluctant stench - you know, the kind where it smells like a mixture of plants and coffee and vehicle exhaust. A stifled yawn still manages to creak through your lips as you hop onto the bus, taking a seat in the row before the back 5-seater. By dumping yourself in it with the home-made tea in your hand, you resign to the week’s regiment once more.

The bus turns around the corner, giving you the perfect opportunity of watching students run across the road like traffic wasn’t a thing and a car couldn’t run over them at any given time. It stops at one of the dorm bus stops, and the doors hiss open.

The vehicle subtly jerks as more students hop onboard, and your attention is cemented so solidly to the outside world that it takes more than a few calls to get your attention - a tap on your shoulder.

Pulling one side of your earpiece out, you silently greet Heeseung, who was with two other boys, one around his height and the other slightly shorter. They shift backwards and sit directly behind you, Heeseung conveniently taking a seat next to you.

Great, now I gotta-

“Do you guys take MH (music history) together?” The shorter boy rests his chin on the back rest of the bus seat and looks down at you.

“Yeah, we do.”

“I’m gonna bet Heeseung’s already fallen asleep.”

You glance at the boy, then back at Heeseung, who tuts his lips and tries to smack his friend over the head.

“Yeah, he has. Knocked out like a light in the first lecture,” The smile that stretches across your face is motivated by the snickers and smirks on his friends’.

“Anyway, I’m Jake,” He lifts an arm over the seat, awkwardly offering you his palm. “This guy’s Sunghoon.”

Sunghoon nods and provides you a little wave.

Politely taking Jake’s hand, you give it a bare shake.

“How’s MH? We’re planning on taking it next semester, actually. But Heeseung over here doesn’t seem like the best person to ask about a curriculum.”

“He probably isn’t,” Playful, beady eyes search his for a moment. “MH is fun if you’re really interested, I suppose. But the first test will probably determine how strict the marking scheme is. We don’t know the format or the rubrics.”

“Oh...” The disappointment in his voice is heavy as he subtly reels backwards. “Damn, I don’t wanna mess up my freshman report card though,” Jake’s laughter ensues and it’s a combination of warmth and embarrassment.

“It’ll be messed up this sem if you don’t buck up for PA,” Sunghoon leans back in his seat and pulls out his phone. The module abbreviation doesn’t ring a bell, and your eyes naturally dart back and forth between the three boys.

“Oh, Physio and Anatomy!” Jake informs enthusiastically.

“Oh! That sounds pretty cool. Is it a main module for your course or...?”

“It’s a main module. We’re all Sports Science students so we have to take it.”

“What?” Your attention zooms back onto Heeseung. “You’re a Sports Science student?”

His brows furrow in natural disappointment, eyes dulling and lips pulling up into a sneer. “Why is that surprising? What do you think I studied, then?”

“I don’t know, you just don’t seem like the kind.”

“Sports Science has a ‘kind’ now, huh?”

“I was just saying it was unexpected,” Shrug it off. He rolls his eyes and you turn to Jake, who was chuckling from behind. “Is it fun? Physio and Anatomy?”

“No, it sucks, what the Hell,” Aggressively shaking his head, Jake flares his nostrils and looks away. Then he turns and violently ruffles Heeseung’s hair. “This man was supposed to help us since he took it in his freshman year but now that he’s a second year, he doesn’t give a shit.”

“What?” Heeseung jerks at your surprise, turning to you like you just said something unformidable. His fingers reach up into his hair in attempt to comb it down after Jake’s interception.

“What?” Jake’s eyes flit between you and Heeseung. “You didn’t know Heeseung is a second year?”

“No!” The exclamation runs your throat dry. “I thought you were a freshman!”

“Aye, she just said I look younger than I really am-”

“Oh, stop-” Sunghoon finally butts in, reaching over and tousling Heeseung’s partially combed-down hair, receiving a slap on his hand. The younger giggles as he pulls back, but the whites on Heeseung’s eyes are glaring with annoyance.

“Oh, dang. Well, I guess now you know,” Jake nods with some measurement of surprise as the bus approaches another stop. “Oh, this is us! And... it’s raining.”

“What? It’s raining? Shit,” Sunghoon leans over Jake and stares out the window, completely ignoring his personal space. “I freakin’ told you the weather forecast said it’ll rain.”

“The weather forecast isn’t even accurate half the time!” Jake pushes Sunghoon off the outer seat, and he scoots over to stand on the isle. The bus kind of screeches to a stop, nearly throwing Sunghoon off balance as he tries to stand before the vehicle actually comes to rest.

“Anyways, it was nice to meet you...?” Raising a brow, both Jake and Sunghoon give you your attention but Heeseung’s soul has half dissipated into the depths of Monday Blues.

“y/n!”

“It was nice to meet you, y/n!” Jake follows closely behind Sunghoon, who’s already waved. “Don’t forget about dinner later, Heeseung!”

“We’re getting ramen!” Heeseung yells ignorantly down the isle, earning looks of discontent from other passengers - but he doesn’t care.

“OOOH YAY!” Jake screams back, already at the bottom of the stairs.

“NO, WE’RE NOT.”

The door hisses shut, and the bus overtakes where Sunghoon and Jake have walked to the road junction. Heeseung leans forward in his seat, enough for them to see him through the glass as they shelter their eyes from the rain and wave you off.

When he leans back in his seat, your eyes gravitate towards the wet trails down the window, where the raindrops have gotten bigger and heavier.

“Have you started studying for the test next week?”

“Of course,” It takes some slight effort to peel your attention away from nature’s drawing on the glass. “Haven’t you? It’s 3 weeks of heavy content.”

“I only redid my notes for Ancient Music.”

A disgusted sneer tuts your lips. “Ancient Music is nothing compared to last week’s.”

“I’ll worry about last week’s content this week.”

“Then worry about this week’s 12 hours before the test?”

Heeseung’s grins a Cheshire smile, eyes beaming as if the test wasn’t a 20% chunk of his final grade. He offers a shrug, with one of those stupid arrogant-frat boy smiles. “What can I say? That’s how second-years roll.”

“You’re gonna regret it.”

“Well, I’m not gonna regret much because we have that deal, remember?”

Your pupils shrink into the corner where Heeseung is in your peripheral view, and he’s got that sneaky-slash-pursed smirk dancing on his lips like he’s got you in a checkmate - which he has.

“Did you just proclaim me as your tutor without me proclaiming anything?”

“Yup!” He sucks in a breath and holds it as the bus stops and he stands. “You agreed last week. Anyway, we’re here. Let’s go.”

Tailing after him, you follow him down the bus, head tilting downwards to avoid the slightly-heavy rain. Pausing beneath the shelter of the bus stop, students have stopped and started taking out their umbrellas or jackets or simply dashing across the road into the building.

The last car in sight moves off, and the students around you dip their heads to hide under their hands and jackets. Your right foot is just about to leave the curb, but a harsh grip abruptly stops you from moving forward, yanking on your left arm and pulling you back onto the curb.

Looking at him with a frown, your lips part to berate him as the last student leaves the shelter. “What? Don’t you run in the rain?”

“'Course I do,” He mumbles, eyes not even bothering to look at you as he swings his bag around to the front. Through a barely-sized hole, he pulls out a varsity jacket. “I just can’t afford to have my tutor catching a cold a week before a 20% test so, no. You’re not allowed to run in the rain.”

Fluffing it open, you now see his last name and varsity number printed in red on black. The university’s logo was printed on the left breast, and right below the crest was the word ‘dance’.

Looking back up at him with widened eyes, he throws it over your head, pulling the collar a few inches over your forehead.

“What- Hey!” Your sentence is cut short in the form of him sprinting off without warning, hands holding onto his bag straps tightly, attention on his feet as he makes it across the road and into the building.

Dropping your head and making sure there were no incoming traffic, you step off the curb and speed-walk across the asphalt, holding the jacket above your head.

“You never told me you were in the school team,” Pulling the jacket off your head, you fluff the droplets off. The beep that sounded from the lift panel turns the button red, and Heeseung turns on his heels to look at you.

“Why would I? It’s not an important detail.”

“It would explain why a bunch of people were trying to take pictures of you during the first lecture,” You hold out the jacket back to him. “You’re some kind of superstar and my dumbass doesn’t know.”

“Think whatever you want to think but it’s not that serious.” He chuckles, shaking his head and glancing at his jacket.

The lift doors open with a ding and Heeseung doesn’t wait for you to respond. leaving his jacket with you before walking in.

“Are you coming or nah? ‘Cause I’ll just-” And he jams his finger onto the close button, the doors beginning to slide shut.

“Heeseung!”

“Dude, at least try.” Now seated next to you and within range, you nudge Heeseung’s arm. Startled, he immediately locks his phone like he were guilty of something, and he shoves it away into his pocket. Squinting at him and shaking your head, you turn back to your notes.

“It’s like you don’t have a test next week,” Highlight. “And I’m responsible for your final grade? Pfft. Y’know, having a tutor doesn’t mean whack unless the student bothers to keep up.”

When the silence in your ears sound more like the lecture hall’s wheezing air-conditioner, you turn and side-eye him.

“Are you done?” He cocks a brow, smug.

“No,” You turn back to your notes. “But I’m gonna stop because it’s not gonna change the fact that I’m your tutor.”

“Hey, it takes alot of faith to put so much trust in a tutor, okay?” Heeseung leans forward, resting his cheek into one of his fists. “So, when do we start?”

“Not today or tomorrow. I have a creative writing assignment due this Wednesday.”

“I almost forgot you have other modules.”

“I’m doing four this sem, so my life isn’t just about MH.”

“What’s your creative writing assignment about?”

“A letter to the universe.”

Heeseung pauses, and you glance at him for a split moment before resuming your focus on your notes.

“That’s your assignment?”

“Yeah. Why?”

He subtly shrugs, lips pouting in thought. “Sounds pretty cool.”

“It is.”

Silence.

“So... I guess I’ll see you Wednesday? After your creative writing class, I assume? I have Biomechanics in the early afternoon so maybe we could go get dinner then we can study in the night.”

“I can’t do night times. I usually get back home by 8 or 9.”

Heeseung falters again. “Right, I forgot you don’t stay on campus.”

The disappointment slurs through your lungs when you can hear his voice get lower; softer. Quick. Offer another solution.

“I’ll make an exception. For your dumbass.”

“Aw, really?” His voice is loaded with mischief.

“Shut up, you’re paying for dinner.”

“Only if I get to choose!”

Problem? Yeah sure, ‘problem’.

The jacket that Heeseung had lent you to shelter you from the rain earlier this week was now snug around his shoulders. He’s got his forehead plastered to the smartboard, smartpen in his fingers as he’s struggling to memorise the content from the last 3 weeks.

Scratching your head, you’re subconsciously forcing yourself to look away - but you just can’t. Unfortunately for you, there was something alluring about the way he talks, the way he entertains you without even trying, the way he’s just there and you don’t think you’ve bothered so much about someone before.

Then the guilt starts to chip away in your gut. This is unfair, you think. I can’t even tell if I actually like him and yet I’m feeling guilty to Jay? Why do I have to go through this torturous cycle of figuring out if I like someone... on my EXCHANGE SEMESTER?

Heeseung jolts his head off the smartboard, scribbling down whatever just popped into his head.

Medieval: 6th to 14th century

“Medieval lasted from 6th to 15th.”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I knew that. Just wanted to see if you were paying attention.”

That was not cute, at all, but why did your heart want to burst?

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Leaning back in your seat, you stretch your arms and yawn, pushing yourself off and shaking out your legs in a bid to tear your attention away from him for a moment. It’s overwhelmingly disgusting, to know that the moment you turned away, all you wanted to do was to turn back.

No. Self-Discipline.

“What time is it?” He talks to himself. “Oh, shit- It’s almost 12-”

“Yeah, your two braincells couldn’t get the first 2 chapters down by 10 and that’s why we’re still here, you idiot,” Your fingers press against your temple as you look out the glass doors of the vacant tutorial room.

“Well, hey!” He exclaims, and in the reflection off the glass doors you can see that he’s written a bunch of things on the smartboard. Eagerly picking up his notes, he goes to match them. “I think I got everything up to Week 3!”

“No, you don’t. You didn’t even get the Medieval time period right.”

“I have Classicals left and I’ll be all good to go for next Monday!” He wheezes, clenching his fists and cheering himself on silently. “My brain’s done for the day, let’s go.”

“I think I’ll stay for abit more. I like this momentum,” You turn, having finally calmed your nerves.

“What? No,” Heeseung looks up from shoving his notes into his bag.

“What do you mean ‘no’? You go and I’ll stay - It wasn’t even a question.”

“But... you don’t even live on campus. Public buses at this time are irregular and- no, no,” Then he walks to your corner and starts packing your belongings for you. “I’ll send you back to where you stay.”

“What for?” A frown curtains your brows as you rush over, slapping his hands away from your things but he ignores you instead. “Leave my things alone, I’ll go home later on my own-”

Then he shoves himself between you and the table, cutting your access to your belongings. Suddenly, it’s like his height is in your face, now that you’re not that far from him and neither of you were sitting. The flush starts the stubborn engines of your heart and you flare your nostrils in a bid to inhale deeper breaths.

“I’ll send you home and that... wasn’t a question.”

Something in your cheek twitch, and you stare at him, in self-hatred, as he turns and packs your things for you.

All of a sudden, you kind of wish you weren’t staying just 5 minutes away from school. That would mean more than 5 minutes with him.

The traffic light at the junction turns into the green man and he strides off the curb first, feet light against the asphalt as he stares at the tips of his shoes. Once across the road, he turns, cautiously walking backwards to face you while remaining a safe distance.

“How did your letter to the universe work out?”

You wrote about how unfair life was. How unfair it was for your father to drag you across the country - yes, that’s a grudge you’re never going to let go of. You wrote about having Jay take care of you and be such a great person to be around. You wrote about falling into that gray area where you couldn’t tell if you were in love. Maybe it was infatuation. You wrote about Heeseung’s eyes and how they look like Bambi’s. You wrote about Jay’s laughter echoing through the museum because he couldn’t contain his laughter over a joke he made himself. You wrote about how much you missed home.

You wrote about how much you’d cry and be torn apart when your time here is up.

“Boring.”

Heeseung laughs under his breath. “That’s what you say when you’re expecting an A, right?”

Yes.

“No.”

“Liar,” He turns on his heels again, a keychain on his bag swinging about. Something in your gut sinks when he goes quiet, eyes wandering around the familiar yet alien environment. He’s probably seen these buildings in passing from a bus out of campus or when he goes to supper but he hasn’t deliberately walked along the streets.

“I’m here,” Slowing down outside the security gates of the apartment building, you swing your bag to the front and pull out a keycard from the outer pocket of your bag. “Thanks for... sending me home.”

“And thank you for tutoring me. I don’t think I would’ve gotten to Medieval today if I didn’t study with you.”

“No, you didn’t get to Medieval-” You roll your eyes and sigh.

“I’m gonna go, so... I’ll see you... tomorrow?”

“You want to study MH tomorrow? Again?”

“Why, don’t we have a test on Monday?”

“I need a break.”

“And I need my grades.”

You sneer at him, sucking on your upper row of teeth. “I’ll consider it. But word of advice, start on Classicals if you can’t do Week 3 well.”

“I’ve done Medieval-”

“No, you didn’t,” You turn on your heels and walk towards the gate.

“Medieval lasted from 6th to 14th century!” He whispers loudly, the words coming out more like hisses. The gate beeps as it scans your card and you push yourself through the entrance. A chuckle runs your throat dry in the cool night, and you let the gate close behind you.

The metal bars block some parts of his face, and you hesitate to shift. Just to see him one more time.

But he shifts, and his sparkling eyes finds you in between the metal bars. Even in the dark, you can see the glimmer in his eyes.

“Bye, Heeseung.”

“Bye, y/n,” He pauses, then offers a tiny smile. “Goodnight.”

#multifandomnet #enhypennetwork #heeseung fanfic #jay fanfic #enhypen fanfic #heeseung scenarios #heeseung imagines #heeseung x reader #jay scenarios #jay imagines #jay x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #lee heeseung #heeseung #enhypen heeseung #enhypen jay

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iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years ago

Text

this life is short, darling. so come, run away with me.

A/N: Here’s my entry to @eleven-times-lively‘s writing challenge! Congratulations on 400 again! Thank you so much for letting me take part! I loved writing this, but I love writing Draco. The prompt I chose has been bolded in the text. The title is from a quote I found on google by a Kiana Azizian on instagram.

Summary: talks of the future.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Warnings: some angst - mentions of war, nightmares, anxiety and insomnia. BUT THERE IS FLUFF.

Word count: 1.3k

There was no ignoring the damage the Second Wizarding War had wrought on wizarding society. Hogwarts remained in tatters; McGonagall choosing to delay repairs as the bodies of students, teacher, and death eaters alike remain unclaimed in the Great Hall.

Upon the start of the Dark Lord’s final duel with Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy was dragged away by his mother. Across the bridge where they could safely apparates to their home and collect the tatters of their once great and feared reputation.

You had apparated to the Manor once the Battle was over; having to see for yourself that he had survived before you let yourself confront the grief that was welling within for the friends that you had lost that day.

You sprinted down the main path, being met halfway by the blonde-haired teenager you were so madly in love with. No words were spoken; he simply kissed until there was no breath in your body, and after that, he held you until your eyes had ran dry and his were red-rimmed.

For as long as you could remember you had been in love with the heir to the Malfoy name and fortune. For as long as Draco could remember, he had loved you just as much. The friendship was an old one; families running in same circles. The relationship started in Sixth Year when he had kissed you under the mistletoe someone had placed on top of the door to the Slytherin common room. Draco Malfoy always presented a hard exterior, but with you he was soft and pliable. If he could, he’d worship the ground you walked on. The relationship felt so natural; as if it was written by the fates that you two should end up together and love each other so deeply.

-------

The grounds to Malfoy Manor are particularly beautiful in Spring; when the flowers have begun to bloom, and their perfume hangs heavy in the air. The Malfoys were known through wizarding society primarily for their stance on pure-blood lineages, but the second thing the family was known for was Narcissa’s prize winning roses that always take the blue ribbon in the town fair. It’s a juxtaposition in itself, but there was no denying that the matriarch of the supremacist family in the large manor house up the road, grew the most beautiful roses.

The rose garden was always your favourite part of the Manor; it was the one place where you and Draco could be yourselves without the worry of being overhead or seen by prying eyes and ears. Through the war, more and more time was spent in the garden – memorising the species and their meanings and speaking freely about the ambiguity of the future.

It was in Narcissa’s prized rose garden that Draco showed you the mark that would now mar his left arm for the rest of his life. He expected you to turn away disgusted; to leave him in the dust for someone from a family with a less blood-thirsty background. Instead, you surprised him. You took his arm in your hands and placed a kiss to the mark. There was no romanticising what had happened to him; there was only making the promise that you would stand by him through this and that you always would.

For so long, the Manor had been a place that was the definition of the word ‘cold’, but Narcissa had made it her mission to liven up the house - to make it into a home. Now that the war was over, and the Malfoy’s were doing all that they could to redeem themselves in the eyes of the wizarding world; the garden had come to symbolise a place of healing for Draco and yourself.

It was in the garden that Draco confessed he wasn’t coping as well; it was in the garden that you told him you knew, and you were also struggling. The roses were the only witnesses to the promise made between the two of you; to help each other through this – to never leave the other in a lurch. It was sealed with a kiss that tasted salty from the tears that had fallen through the heart-wrenching conversation.

The war was over, but there was still so much uncertainty about the future.

The sun shines down on the roses through your morning walk with Draco. You had been staying at the Manor more often; the both of you needing the other close – to fight the nightmares, to fight the terrors that lurked in the shadows. When sleep evaded you both, as it did so often, you took to walking in the beloved gardens, admiring the way that the morning dew glistened in the first rays of sunlight.

Draco tangles your fingers together as you continue to lap the grounds; chasing away the horrors of the night and replacing them with happier thoughts of the day.

It had been a rough night for Draco in particular. His own screams dragging him from the nightmares of the pain that was inflicted when the dark mark was seared into his skin by the Dark Lord. The pain is no longer there, but the phantom pain lingers and flares on a night when his mind begins to rest; letting its walls down for the invading thoughts to begin their assault.

You hadn’t slept a wink, even after Draco fell back into a fitful sleep. You watched him instead, filled with yearning for a different life. Bursting to the brim with the idea of a carving out a different path for the both of you to walk down together – a life with no violence, only happiness and peace.

The grass underneath your feet squelches as you remember the idea you had in the early hours of the morning.

You turn suddenly, gripping Draco’s hand tightly in yours. Your eyes are bright; with love and an idea, “I don’t know what’s ahead, but will you run away with me?”

Draco pauses his walk, raising an eyebrow at your sudden outburst, “Where would we go?”

“Abroad – let’s go to Europe. I want to see France, Italy, Greece.”

“What would we do there?”

“Whatever we want,” You say, caressing his cheek with your hand – he leans into the touch. “My love, life is short – the war taught us that. So come, run away with me and see the world.”

Draco remains silent for a minute; thinking over the possibilities and consequences in his head. Financially, they could do this, coming from prominent and wealthy families. There was nothing of substance that was keeping them here either. Life is short, Draco knows that. The very thought had haunted him since he had walked through the corridors of the school he once called home and noted the familiar faces of friends, students, and teachers all lined before the walls – never to breathe another breath again.

There could be no consequences to this; not once he explained why he needed to go to his mother. Narcissa would understand better than most; she always had. Draco thinks to the concerned looks she throws at him from across the breakfast table; Narcissa would probably be the one to pack his bags.

“We can’t run away forever,” Draco starts, knowing that as much as he wants to leave this blasted place, he would have to return eventually, “But we can run away for the summer.”

“Do you promise?” You ask, voice quiet but eyes bright with the possibilities running through your mind and teetering on the tip of your tongue.

“I promise. I also promise this…” He trails off, pulling you into an embrace, pecking your lips before continuing, “I don’t know what’s ahead, but I promise that you will always have me.”

You peck his lips again, smiling when Draco chases your lips for another kiss, “It’ll all be okay then. I’ll always have you just as much as you will always have me.”

******

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @obsessedwithrandomthings @harrypotter289 @dreamer821 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @the-hufflefluffwriter @figlia--della--luna @bforbroadway @idont-knowrn @summer-writes @big-galaxy-chaos @black-lake-confessions

Draco Malfoy taglist: @the--queen-of-hell @obx-beach @obxmxybxnk @sycathorn-slush

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mandoalorian · 4 years ago

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What the Pedro boys are like at college

This is my first time doing one of these so please be nice! Yep, TUWOMT isn’t out yet but I have read the script and I have written for Javi Gutierrez here. If you don’t want spoilers, maybe don’t read his scenario. I’ve made it so Javi’s is the last one so you can skip over it easily. I write for all the main Pedro characters! These include:

· Din Djarin – The Mandalorian

· Javier Pena – Narcos

· Frankie Morales – Triple Frontier

· Maxwell Lord – Wonder Woman 1984

· Jack Daniels: Kingsman: The Golden Circle

· Oberyn Martell: Game of Thrones

· Dave York: The Equalizer 2

· Pero Tovar – The Great Wall

· Ezra Prospect – Prospect

· Marcus Pike – The Mentalist

· Max Phillips – Bloodsucking Bastards

· Dio – NYPD Blue

· Javi Gutierrez – The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent

· I DO NOT WRITE FOR PEDRO PASCAL.

Please please request a ‘Pedro boy’ scenario HERE. You can also request for me to write a one shot HERE.

Masterlist

Enjoy!

***

Din Djarin: Does college exist in Star Wars? I’m not sure… but if we take a moment to imagine Din being schooled by the Mandalorian Creed. He learns the history of Mandalore, about the great leaders such as Satine Kryze. He learns the importance of ‘the way’ and studies the art of weaponary, learning how to use guns, detonators, vambrace, and whistling birds. He learns about the legacy of the darksaber and, as we already know, he trains with the Rising Phoenix. I imagine Din likes to keep himself to himself and has been a loner his whole life. He places his trust in his fellow Mandalorian’s but they are not his friends. They are simply just his allies. Being schooled in the Mandalorian Creed would be physically exhausting but it’s something Din can manage. After all, he doesn’t have a choice. This is the way.

Javier Pena: We know Javi always wanted to leave Texas, and I think college was the perfect time for him to venture out. He didn’t choose a school with a pristine academic reputation, but instead, he picked a school that had the best renowned night life so he could go out and enjoy drinking and partying. Javi wasn’t a complete wild card. He was the kid who seemed to be good at almost everything. He was able to graduate top of his class with honours in Criminal Law.

Frankie Morales: When Frankie was younger, he loved helping his dad work on the family car and he even scored a part-time job at a garage when he finished high school. At high school, he never really found interest in the core subjects like English, math, science, history… and so when it was time for college, he wanted to develop on his hobby. Frankie chose to major in engineering, with a minor in transportation and logistics. This was perfect for him. In his second year, he went from looking at cars and motorcycles, to different forms of aircraft. He remembers one morning, he sat in the pilot seat of a helicopter after the fuel compressor had went bust and he had never felt more at home. On a whim, he dropped out of college and was lucky enough to get a place in piloting school. Frankie stuck by Santiago throughout college, but while Santi went out and partied, Frankie would slump down in his chair, drink a few beers, and be ready to head back to his dorm at 9pm. He had a few flings in college but had no interest in pursuing an actual relationship. It was important to him that he used his time in college to discover what he really wanted to do with his life.

Maxwell Lord: He probably went to Cornell, or Harvard. Maxwell could’ve gotten in from his family name alone, and if he wasn’t the most academically bright, no doubt his mother would’ve paid him into college, but Maxwell had always been smart. He was home schooled his whole life and so college was a big change for him. He worked hard. He showed up to every class early, and handed in homework and dissertations early, and used his charm to schmooze with the teachers, doing all he could to make sure he got the best grades. Maxwell majored in Business and Economics, and minored in Marketing. He didn’t have much choice in what he studied in college because he had his life set out for him the moment he was born. Maxwell didn’t have friends, but that’s not to say he was a loner. Everyone on campus knew who Maxwell was, and everyone knew the kind of family he came from.

Jack Daniels: Despite Jack and his high school sweetheart going their separate ways for college, they couldn’t stay away from each other for long. He was a Political Science major but never really cared much for it. He had a lot of friends, was a care free spirit and attended parties. He is someone who has natural academic ability but his failure to attend class and do homework meant that he, inevitably, began to drag behind. Realising political science isn’t for him, he dropped out of college and moved in with his high school sweetheart. He much preferred it that way, and he was able to be with her all the time. Having his company meant that she was now distracted from her studies and when she fell pregnant with their first child, they decided to run away from college all together and start a family far away.

Oberyn Martell: Is there college in Game of Thrones? I’m not sure, but a modern! Oberyn would major in classical studies and minor in philosophy. He is a prince, after all. He excels in both subjects and picks up languages such as Latin and Greek easily. It comes natural to him. He passes with flying colours and never has to try too hard because the words of Aristotle and Plato were engrained into his brain ever since he was old enough to read a book. As prince, he knows it is important to graduate with honours and that it’s his priority but that doesn’t mean he can’t make time for fun. He doesn’t commit to any relationship during college but does embrace his sexuality. He’s kind, gentle, and respectful. He’s a really great lover, but an even better friend.

Dave York: Dave studied criminology and forensic science at college. He was able to learn the ins and outs of criminal psychology and the process that cops and forensic teams go through when trying to trace a murder. His knowledge in this subject sure helped him in later life. He passed with flying colours, but never wanted a career in crime – or at least, not a career you’d need a degree in. But his newly received qualification, Dave decided to join the CIA as an operative where he met Robert McCall. He played good guy for a long time, but his bad intentions linked to criminal activity traced all the way back to college. He met his wife in college, and truthfully, she was the only thing who kept him from spiralling into criminal activity at an earlier stage.

Pero Tovar: Again, I am almost certain college didn’t exist during this time period but if we make it a modern AU, I think Pero would have majored in geography and minored in cultural studies. He had a goal to travel the world and see all the magnificent places. Pero was a grumpy adolescent, and seemingly he never really grew out of it. He had a group of people he hung out with who were similar to him but he never really considered them friends. He didn’t partake in extracurricular activities and he would just focus on studying. But he did have a flare in art which was lost on him during later life. He used painting as an emotional outlet and a means to express his feelings.

Ezra Prospect: I guess this is a modern! Ezra then. He studies geology, and he’s really smart. He does a lot of reading, but he actually prefers non-fiction over fiction. His interest in geology goes past his degree, and he actually collects a variety of rocks and gemstones, going into deep research about them and believing that certain ones possess healing powers. Ezra has a partner throughout his time in college, and they spend a lot of time with each other. Ezra’s partner encourages Ezra’s love for geology and finds his passion endearing, even encouraging him to earn an income from his knowledge! You help Ezra use the rocks that he collects to create bath salts and make jewellery to sell on and earn profit.

Marcus Pike: Marcus was an art and design major, and all his teacher’s loved him. He was never the best at the practical side, but he excelled in art history and his knowledge on the subject was outstanding. Marcus had one long term relationship during college but his partner ended up breaking his heart. It took a long time for Marcus to recover, but he’d always been one for second chances. He’d hope that he’d never get his heart broken again.

Max Phillips: Max was a bit of a player in community college; a jock, who studied his undergraduate in Physical Education. When Evan had Max kicked out for sleeping with his girlfriend, Max went and studied Sales Management at a university just for Vampires. Filled with a feeling of wrath and hatred for Evan, Max made it his mission to ruin him. No more time could be spent partying in his fraternity, playing soccer for the college team and sleeping with the cheer leader’s – Max made it his goal to graduate from Vampire University with a top major and steal the job of leading Sales Manager from Evan. And that’s on holding grudges.

Dio: Yeah, Dio didn’t go to college. He dropped out of high school when he was fourteen. In his youth, his hobbies included making fire and stealing from the rich.

Javi Gutierrez: He’s a film major of course! He was born into a rich family, we know that, and comes from a very financially privileged background. His parents knew that he did not have to pursue a degree in something that would ensure him a job, because Javi would be well off no matter what, and so they were fine with Javi doing something he was truly interested in. Javi has loved literature, art and movies his whole life. He minors in screenplay writing and excels top of his class, constantly impressing those around him with his ability to memorise anything from one liner quotes to whole scenes from movies. He shares his extensive knowledge of trivia, and all his lecturer’s firmly believe that the film industry is something that Javi could one day potentially succeed in. However, Javi is awkward. He shy’s away from all the partying and spends Friday night’s in his dorm, munching on popcorn and watching classic movies. A relationship is never in question for Javi because of his family circumstances, so he just lays low and focuses on his studies. As soon as he graduates, he heads back home to Mexico and his dreams of being a famous Hollywood screenplay writer seem so distant.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #din djarin #frankie morales #javier pena #agent whiskey #maxwell lord #ezra prospect #javi gutierrez #pedro boys

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littleferal · 5 years ago

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Ezra + #19 Domestic Life

- So in terms of what you do, life is already kind of domestic right? I mean you guys live together, get up together, work together, harvest together etc etc. The set up is domestic - You both have your routines and cycles, both have preferences in the daily life and on the job - But it’s not domestic domestic. Like you’re not a couple - And sure, after time what was a kind of truce between the two of you turned into a quiet peace, the tension seeping out of the silent mornings to be replaced with a comfortable and familiar feeling - But the first time it truly feels domestic to you? You’re sitting at the make shift desk in the centre of the pod, quietly working on scrubbing the filters. Ezra has already finished his job of patching up suits, a skill you hadn’t expected of the man, expecting him to be more of the type to talk his way out of some jobs. But really you’re not giving him enough credit because he’s proven to be a very reliable partner out here, not backing down from a single job asked - or maybe not even asked - of him - You thought he would have taken his cot that’s behind you for his rest, surely that would have been more comfortable? But instead he’s squeezed himself into a little nook opposite you, propped up by a support beam as he dog-ears the same paper-and-ink book he’s been rereading over and over, this trip and the last - And then seemingly out of no where he just starts reading to you. You think at first that he may be reading a specific quote to you to start a conversation - it wouldn’t be the first time he’s engaged you in a topic you have no knowledge on, you think taking simple joy just from the flow of conversation and the distractions from your current existence. But no. He just quietly keeps on reading. - Ezra always has a certain melody to how he talks. It changes with topics and people, primarily with whatever mood he’s in at the time. And he’s been soft spoken with you once or twice before, maybe turning gentle after noticing just how bad a day has hit you or even after a nasty run in with some over prospectors. But this is the first time it’s come up unprompted - You find yourself lulled by the words, the author just as well spoken as Ezra himself, the work in your hands momentarily forgotten. You just…listen. And then realise that you’re not even completely following the words being said but rather the melody in which it’s said, pleased by the euphony of his voice Ezra notices. Of course he does, the persistent scrub scrub scrub of your work slowly petering out. But he doesn’t comment. Doesn’t even pause in what he’s saying, content to just go on - A little embarrassed after you realise what you’ve done you pick up your work again, but now being mindful to not be too loud so Ezra doesn’t need to raise his voice. - After that it starts to become a habit whenever Ezra finds himself without work and you’re focused on a task. It’s his way of keeping you company and it creeps into the smallest things - while the morning pot is brewing, while you’re sitting there still coming to over the hot mug, even out on digs sometimes when he’s leaving the more delicate jobs to you. Not that he ever takes the few books out with him, they’re far too precious, but he’s starting to memorise passages and whole chapters - You start to wonder how you got by on so much silence before, the minutiae rhythms of your life starting to be dictated by the melody of his words

--- --- ---

headcanon prompts + my masterlist

#im entertaining myself with headcanon prompts #my writing #hes reading utopia by thomas moore #i dunno that's what came to mind #sfw #ezra x reader #ezra (prospect) x reader #soft hours

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little-miss-dumpsterfire · 4 years ago

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I think I made you up inside my head - chapter three

Chapter three my select few darlings! Yes, it’s already on wattpad (sorry if you’ve read it already) but I like to share!

Are you ready kids?

Chapter Three - I am only what you made me. I am only a reflection of you

Trigger warning - mental health issues and blood/gore.

If you're not comfortable, please skip. 💛

******************************************

Sharp tears prickled in his hazel eyes as the ability to form coherent words seemed to escape him. He had known the minor details surrounding Lindsay's untimely death - a reality tv darling dropping dead was headline-worthy - but her family were tight-lipped about the exact circumstances of her demise. His mind raced as he tried to comprehend how Izzy had known all of this; her knowledge rivalled that of a fly on the bathroom wall. As if she could hear his innermost thoughts, Izzy answered his unspoken question.

"I knew the right people to ask," she told him, brushing the hair out from in front of her eyes, "I knew she didn't just die. I wasn't going to let her death be treated in such a blasé fashion."

Axel choked, the words lodged deeply in his throat. "Bu- I mean... how did you get the mirror?"

"I found it one day. It was in a box on my doorstep. Any sane person would leave it be, but if the media established anything, I'm clearly not seen as sane. So I opened it. I don't know who sent it to me. My money's on a producer who revels in the sadistic thrill derived from the torment and suffering we went through. I couldn't throw it away though, because what would be left of her if I did? She was already condemned to the ground. I wasn't going to be the one to throw her memory to the wind."

Izzy looked to her left, her reflection dimly lit in the glass cabinet on the far wall. "In my head... all I think of is when it's all over, is this how I'll be defined? The final victim of Total Drama... that's etched into my brain. I'll become another knick-knack in a hall of curiosities. We're no longer people in here, Axel, we're collectables."

Thoughts bounced around erratically in Axel's head - conflicting notions manifesting like an angel and a devil on his shoulder. In front of him was a woman who was struggling with the turmoil outliving all of her friends. Yet, the magnetic pull of the almighty dollar swayed his actions towards chasing stardom.

He lightly gripped her forearm, giving her his best convincing empathetic smile.

"Tell me the stories. Let the voices out of the purgatory that is your mind. Everything...one, everyone in here will not be relegated to the sidelines, I won't let that happen." Axel assured Izzy, his warm smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

Ignoring the suspicion that washed over her thoughts - for the time being at least - Izzy continued walking down the aisles of shelves. Axel shadowed her, following a few paces behind, mindlessly fiddling with the items on display. Two tarnished faux-gold lockets sat near each other, the two halves of the 'BFF' heart separate from one another. As he went to push the two sections together, Izzy stopped him abruptly and pushed his hand away.

"No," she started, startling Axel with the sudden sternness. "They can't be together. They don't share a heart anymore."

"So what? They grew out of being obnoxious teenage girls and went their separate ways. Big fucking deal!"

She stared daggers into him, holding the shelving for support. "You've got no idea, kid. Just because the sun's covered, it doesn't mean your shadow's gone."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As far as appearances were concerned, Katie and Sadie were almost each other's doubles. Matching short pigtails with bright pink hair ties, coordinated short shorts, crop-tops and wedged sandals... the two looked like they fell from opposite sides of a funhouse mirror. To all of us on the cast, and the audience at home, no doubt, the only differentiating factor between the two was their build. Katie was slim and taller than Sadie by about four inches, whereas Sadie was shorter and carried more weight.

The two 'BFFL's sat together on the stairs leading to the dock, ready to film their segment for the opening sequence. Waiting for the crew to finish setting up the camera equipment, Katie busies herself with refastening her hair ties.

"Okay girls," an unseen producer informs them, "we need your best-infatuated expression. So give up wide eyes, big smiles, the whole nine yards."

The girls nod in response, awaiting their cue. Sadie clasped her hands against her chest - a wide smile plastered on her face - and Katie bit her lip coyly.

"And.... cut. Alright, move set to the dock for Beth's fire-baton stunt. Doug, remember the extinguisher this time." The producer called about. "Great job, girls. Especially you, Katie. That lip bite was dynamic."

Sadie looked to her right at her best friend. "Wait, you bit your lip? We agreed on a wide-mouthed smile."

"It's no big deal, I just wanted to try something different," Katie shrugged, readjusting her shoulder strap. "We can't always be the same, you know?"

Personality-wise, once you got to know them separately, it was like night and day. Katie was free-spirited, leading with her heart. Her passion for all things fashion was evident through her and Sadie's matching outfits and her behind-the-scenes chats with the likes of Lindsay and Heather. Sadie, on the other hand, was more logical, leading with her head. She was more likely to be the sheep as opposed to the shepherd. And when Katie was eliminated early? It was like leading a lamb to the slaughter.

Sadie sat on a jagged log at the campfire, head in her hands violently sobbing. Bridgette futilely offered her support, attempting to coax the girl from her hysterical state.

"Hey, Sadie, it'll be okay. You've got all us Killer Bass on your side." Bridgette lightly rubbed circles on the crying girl's back.

"No!" Sadie snapped at Bridgette, tears staining her cheeks. "It's not okay! I need Katie. When she's not near me, I break out in hives. She's my everything! I need her more than oxygen! Without her... I'll just die!"

Concerned expressions flashed on the faces of their fellow teammates as Sadie's wails echoed through the woods of Camp Wawanakwa. She clutched the debris from the dock closer to her chest; small cracks formed as wooden shrapnel shattered from around the edges.

What we thought back then was just a toxic 'uber' friendship between two sixteen-year-old girls was far more deep-rooted than any of us anticipated. Regarding Sadie... the best way to sum that up is to quote my dearly missed best friend Noah: 'Sadie is a whackjob with more baggage than an airport terminal'. But I suppose that is giving her a disservice. Upon Katie's departure, Chris was notified by Sadie's therapist of the extent of her mental state. I found out too because back then, well, let's just say you couldn't leave me in the dark for too long.

Sadie's childhood wasn't easy in the slightest. Her relationship with her birth parents was relatively non-existent. Therefore, she was surrendered into the custody of the state. The conveyor belt life of passing through the foster care system took a toll on the girl, with an absence of permanent parental love leaving holes in her heart. Her talkative nature and inhibitions to talk and hug strangers lead to her first visit to the therapist. She was a clear cut case for the child behavioural scientists: disinhibited social engagement disorder, an attachment disorder. Looking back, this was evident in all her future actions, particularly those with Katie.

The bell rang on the first day of their last year of high school. Sadie - dressed as per usual in fuchsia shorts and a striped crop top - eagerly skipped over to the locker of her best friend. As the locker door slammed and her friend came into view, the excited expression on Sadie's face dropped.

"K-Katie? What's this?" Sadie questioned, holding her sticker-covered folder flush against her chest.

Katie raised an eyebrow quizzically, straightening out her paper timetable to find her first classes location.

"What do you mean, Sadie?"

"I mean that!" the shorter girl exclaimed, gesturing at Katie's outfit. The taller girl had moved away from her typical Total Drama outfit, substituting it with a pair of denim jeans and a pastel pink cardigan.

"Oh, this? I just wanted to branch out a bit. I mean, matching outfits? What are we, twins?"

Katie giggled at her observation, with Sadie clearly missing the joke.

"Anyway, I have to get to English, but I'll see you around, yeah?" Katie chirped before walking off with two other girls.

Sadie stalked over to Katie's locker, using a spare hairpin to open it. Her heart broke upon looking at its contents. Gone were the photos of her and Sadie plastered onto her locker door. Cutouts from fashion magazines and runway shows lay in their wake and stuffed under a pile of books was the BFF necklace Sadie gifted her years prior.

Following their graduation, the pair had drifted apart. Katie received an offer to the most prestigious fashion school in Canada and left their small town for Toronto. Unbeknownst to her, Sadie followed suit and got a job at a sewing goods store. Sadie became Katie's shadow, desperately following her every move. Her morning routine was memorised, her coffee order became part of her mental wallpaper. Sadie's infatuation only grew, as in her mind, distance made the heart grow fonder. If only Katie knew that this distance was all of a few metres.

A harsh squeak dripped from the tired hinges of the ladder as Sadie climbed up the rungs, fastening something onto her wall. For her neighbours, the sound had become a part of their daily lives, as day after day, Sadie adhered more photos on the apartment wall. The collage of the lush green of leaves, the yellow of the bustling taxis and blue of the cloudless sky swirled around on the wall, catching a person's attention as they entered the room. A timber coffee table was neatly placed on the left, adorned with additional photo frames and miscellaneous decorations. The centrepiece to her display shimmered brightly when the morning sun shone through the gap in the curtains. Perched in a small, open velvet lines box was one half of a golden heart-shaped 'BFF' necklace.

Sadie took a step back and tilted her head, taking in the view from as many angles as she could. She had finally achieved the pinnacle of her undying love and infatuation for her former 'BFFL'. Neatly arranged across the length of the wall was a mural, dedicated to her muse, to the reason she woke up every morning. Candid photos of Katie walking down the street, exiting cars and meeting friends for coffee dates were carefully taken by the shadow she didn't know that she had.

A year and a half passed. There was a stark dichotomy between Katie and Sadie's lives. The final year of her fashion degree was approaching quickly, and Katie was not entering it alone. I don't know how many of us predicted it - probably Noah with his impeccable 'gaydar' - but Katie had fallen in love with an architecture student called Daisy. From what was depicted on their respective social media accounts, it was clear to us that they were enamoured with one another. The presence of another woman in Katie's life infuriated Sadie, as she believed that that position was reserved for her and her alone.

Then came the drop in the ocean that caused the whole tsunami. If it wasn't for Katie's selfless nature... well, I imagine things would've turned out a lot differently.

Katie sat cross-legged on the couch, a decorative throw rug draped across her lap. Their rescue cat, Archibald - a male calico - rested behind her head, purring with content as she opened her laptop. Her fingers barely touched the trackpad as she scrolled through her Facebook feed, bypassing ads for strange items and memes about the current political climate.

"Ekaterina," an auburn-haired girl walked through the doorway, a basket of washing in her hands. "I'm making something for lunch after I finish this washing. I'll probably use what's left in the fridge and make a frittata. D'you want some?"

"Ooh, yes please, Dais," Katie smiled at her partner, who poked her tongue out at the use of her nickname.

Katie clicked on her latest post to see who had reacted and liked. A smile crept across Katie's face as she clicked onto the picture: a photoshoot in a field on flowers where a bright ring sparkled on Katie's ring finger. She looked down at her left hand, still in a state of shock at Daisy's proposal. One name stuck out as Katie scrolled through the comments. She hadn't thought of them for years now and wondered what they were getting up to.

She clicked on their profile to compose a new message. Daisy walked up behind her and scratched Archibald's head before planting a kiss behind Katie's ear.

"Oooh, who are you talking to? Not your girlfriend, I hope," Daisy taunted, giggling breathlessly.

Katie threw her head back against the couch cushion and looked up at her fiancée.

"Yeah, I'm shopping elsewhere. I need someone who appreciates my nicknames!" Katie threw back, puffing her cheeks out comically. "No, you goose. It's this girl I used to go to school with. It's been forever and a day, and I thought I'd see how she's going."

"Sadie Calhoun... isn't she that one you went on that show with?"

"Yeah... I felt like such a poser back then. I don't think I've ever squealed since," Katie responded.

"Hey, people change. I had such a crush on you when I saw you on TV, and look now!" Daisy told her before walking away towards the kitchen. "I snagged the girl of my dreams!"

Katie laughed as she typed an introductory line, sending it through before closing her laptop.

*********

A sudden buzz from her phone against the wooden table shook Sadie out of her delirium. She had been sat before her photo wall, carefully cutting out photos of her face for what could have been hours. Paper scraps lined the wooden flooring like irregular speckles of snow as Sadie rose to her feet. Picking up her phone, her eyes shone brightly with its blue light as a squeal escaped from between her lips.

On her screen - behind the myriad of cracks and scratches - sat a notification that held Sadie's heart in a tight grip: Message request from Ekaterina Byers.

If this were a sitcom, I'm sure Sadie would've pinched herself at that moment to assure that she wasn't dreaming. But with one olive branch in the form of an instant message, Katie had signed her own death warrant.

Sadie opened the notification with bated breath, her cheeks aching from the smile that was cemented in place. Her heart fluttered with anxious butterflies as she read the message.

Ekaterina Byers:

"Hi, Sadie. I wonder if you remember me, probably not! High school seems like forever ago! Haha! 😝 I just thought I'd reach out and see if you wanted to get a coffee sometime and just catch up on life!"

The words swirled and danced before Sadie, who lovingly took in every single one with deep adoration and love. Everything she had wanted to tell her, the praise she had wanted to shower Katie in bounced around in her head. She placed her phone down, forcing herself to calm down before she wrote a response.

Sadie Calhoun:

"Oh, hi! OMG! Of course, I remember you! I'd love to catch up! You're the busy fashion designer, so you pick a time when you can squeeze an old friend in! 😎 💕" Watching the three dots in the bottom left corner caused Sadie's breath to hitch in her throat. She was typing... Katie was typing. They'd finally be reunited, not just from behind a camera lens. She felt as if she was in the painting 'The Creation of Adam', just a fingers touch away from her god, her whole world.

Ekaterina Byers:

"Haha, as if! I'm not there yet 😂 Would next Friday suit? Say about 9am at the Good Coffee Co. I need to hand in my portfolio at 8:30 so that'd work well."

Impulsively, acting out of desperation alone, Sadie immediately responded.

Sadie Calhoun:

"Yes! I'll be there! See you soon, Katie! 💕"

Sadie locked her phone before focusing her attention back to her craft. She picked up her scissors, skilfully manoeuvring around the edges of the photos. She stuck the product onto the wall and gazed upon it proudly. Hundreds of small cut out photos of her head were plastered on the wall, covering up any person Katie was with, replacing them with herself.

They did meet up, that much we do know. Testimonials from five different individuals confirmed that they saw the two girls at that café on Friday the 25th. What they talked about is up for speculation, because that stayed between the two of them. Why were testimonials needed if two young adults were just catching up over a cup of coffee? Because that was the last time Sadie Calhoun and Ekaterina 'Katie' Byers were seen alive.

Katie's eyelids drooped as she sat in the passenger seat of Sadie's car. Sadie - the 'good samaritan' that she was - had offered to drive Katie home after she suddenly felt light-headed following her coffee. Sadie parked in the driveway and opened Katie's door for her, helping her up as she tiredly hobbled towards the front door. Katie wearily collapsed onto the couch, her eyes barely registering the environment around her. She could hear faint crashing and shattering sounds as she struggled to keep her eyes open. She looked down upon the couch she was dozing on and sat up with a start.

"This isn't my house," she whispered to herself, scanning the room for any familiar objects. She froze in place when she spotted something utterly recognisable to her: her face. Hundreds of different angles of her face created a mosaic, a shrine to a friendship that was never meant to last.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Sadie smiled sweetly as she entered the room. "It couldn't be anything but. Not when the subject is as exquisite as you."

Confusion washed over Katie's face as Sadie approached her, a clothed parcel delicately held in her hands. Sadie reached up to caress her old friend's cheek; Katie snaked away from the touch, petrified of the girl in front of her.

"Hmm. That's the problem, isn't it?" Sadie soliloquised, her grey eyes meeting Katie's scared onyx eyes. "You stopped being Katie. You stopped being my best friend. I know Katie is living in those photos, not 'Ekaterina'. Katie wouldn't have left me. No, not at all. Forever isn't a term to just throw around."

Black tears dripped down Katie's face as she silently sobbed. "W-we were kids. What we were wa-wasn't healthy. We're two separate people, Sadie! I couldn't live being so connected to a shadow. I wanted t-to shine on my own."

"But I don't wanna be separate people! I want to be with you... to be you. To never be apart from you!" Sadie passionately yelled as Katie started to slump down in front of her. The world around her became dark as her lids closed tightly. As her consciousness drifted, a phrase echoed through her head.

"Don't worry now. We'll never be apart again."

*********

Excruciating pain emanating from her side woke her with a jolt. A dull haze covered her field of vision, but as she pulled her hand away from her waist, she could see it as clear as day. A warm layer of blood coated her hand like a glove. Her eyes slowly settled to the room she was in. Metres ahead of her was the collage of photos, but the furniture has been removed, leaving a wide-open space.

Her fingers felt around to find the source of the pain, coming across thick strands of string attached to her waist. A scream silently bubbled up inside her, threatening to explode.

Rough, uneven strands of double-wound fishing wire had been haphazardly sewn into both her and Sadie's sides, connecting them to each other.

A groggy smile spread across Sadie's plump cheeks as she revelled in her actions. "I told you we'll never be apart again."

An extreme shock was the only emotion Katie was able to come to terms with. Her body was statuesque; set in place by a fear-driven paralysis. A dryness inhabited her mouth, inhibiting her ability to swallow the truth in front of her. The room swayed and distorted around her - a prison cell painted with her face - as she forced her eyelids shut. This couldn't be reality. It was the sick dream of a girl trapped in the suffocating world of a teenage girl.

The pain Sadie felt in her abdomen only further fuelled her pleasure, letting every wave of pain wash over her in euphoric ecstasy. Her heart felt complete again as if she had regained a long-lost limb.

"I knew we'd become one again," Sadie hummed, intoxicated by being in Katie's presence. "Daisy was just a placeholder... keeping the bed warm for me. With every thread... every stitch... our closeness is now defined. We'll never be apart again. Best friends for life."

"...for...life," Katie mumbled, fresh blood weeping from her wounds.

Night and day passed slowly, the shadows cast from the pair forming contorted, misshapen dark splotches on the walls. A sickening warmth surrounded Katie, whose heartbeat pounded heavily in her ears. Her waist was bruising a deep purple, with the surrounding blood vessels snaking across her abdomen. Sadie was shaken awake by Katie's convulsions as her body became slick with a layer of sweat.

"Katie? I'm here, it's okay."

"I don't feel good... I want Daisy," Katie slurred, lazily searching the room for her partner.

The 'tethering' procedure was as wildly unsuccessful as one could imagine. Sadie's homemade suture kit - a sharpened metal knitting needle and fishing line - only managed to pierce through Katie's large intestine. Bile and stool seeped into her abdomen, eventually finding their way into her bloodstream. The coroner estimated she died two days later of septic shock.

A thin beam of light eclipsed the drawn curtains and rested on Sadie's face as dawn broke. Her hand moved softly to caress Katie's hand; a stiff claw lay in her wake. An overwhelming panic flooded Sadie's system as she attempted to wake the other girl from her 'deep' slumber. Half-lidded blood-red eyes stared back at Sadie, a trickle of dried blood pooled at her temple. Sadie's heart shattered like a golden locket as she cradled the limp body in her arms, pulling the skin taut around her suture wounds. The shadow had won. It had succeeded in snuffing out what was left of the light.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What happened to Sadie in the end?" Axel asked, taking a minute amount of sadistic glee from the story.

Izzy turned to face the young man. A single tear crept down her cheek as she fiddled with her rings. "She refused to live without Katie. She starved to death, all the while she left Katie's decomposing corpse attached to her hip like a growth."

Izzy wiped the tear from her eye, suppressing sniffles as Axel glanced around the room.

"Hmm...Alright. Who's next then?"

#td #horrorfic #katieandsadie #wowee

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ghosttotheparty · 4 years ago

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say my name and say it twice (cotton candy skies)

24. also on AO3 chapter twenty-three

There’s a pressure on Lucas’s chest when he wakes up, before he even opens his eyes. It’s gentle, right over his heart, and it doesn’t hurt, so he stays there, taking a deep breath, feeling sunlight on his face. It’s bright, pressing through his eyelids in a soft red glow, and he feels warm.

His hands ball into fists under the blanket on top of him and he raises them slightly as he stretches, arching his back as he yawns. He can feel his sleeves bunch up in his hands, and his legs slide, bare, against the smooth blanket. There’s something, a hood probably, gathered at the nape of his neck, and it’s uncomfortable, but he leaves it.

He hears a quiet breath, a short sigh, next to him, and he smiles as he realises what’s on his chest.

Lucas slowly pulls the blanket down, reaches a hand out from under it (the air is cold outside), and he places a hand on top of Jens’s.

Jens’s fingers spread as soon as their hands touch, and Lucas turns to look at him. He’s close enough that Lucas could count his eyelashes. He would if his brain wasn’t too foggy from sleep.

His eyes are closed, his lips parted as he exhales soft breaths. Lucas turns onto his side, setting a bent arm under his head, and he catches Jens’s hand as it slides off his chest, letting their fingers twist around each other.

Lucas expects Jens’s hair to have fallen in his face, but it’s pushed back. (Maybe Lucas pushed it back in his sleep. He could see that happening.) If he didn’t want to keep Jens’s hand pressed to his chest, he would reach out and touch the mole by his eye, trace an invisible line down his cheek, let his fingertips drift over his lips. Draw him.

He doesn’t unlink their fingers, doesn’t let Jens’s hand fall, so he traces the line with his eyes, gazing at him like his eyes are paintbrushes, like he’s trying to commit every detail to memory, every eyelash and mole, the stubble across his chin.

“You staring at me?”

Jens’s voice is soft, scratchy from sleep, but it still makes Lucas startle, and then he giggles quietly, squeezing his hand.

“Yeah, I think you’re pretty.”

“I sure hope you do.”

Lucas squeezes his hand again and Jens’s eyes open, soft on Lucas before they close again as he moves in. Their lips press together gently, the position awkward as Jens avoids Lucas’s elbow. When Jens pulls back, he smiles, sitting up and pulling the blanket down before moving down the bed, releasing his hand from Lucas’s and using it to pull at Lucas’s leg as Jens lays with his face against his chest. Lucas’s leg wraps around Jens’s waist and he tangles his hand in Jens’s messy hair, not trying to comb it down, but gently scratching at his scalp as Lucas sighs.

It’s early in the morning. Or at least he thinks it is. Raindrops (or maybe it’s just condensation) sparkle like stars on the window that Jens forgot to cover with covers last night, making the walls and ceiling glisten. The room is washed in a yellow glow, and Lucas thinks this is how mornings are supposed to be.

Quiet. Calm. Peaceful. Slow.

He hears Jens take a little breath before he speaks.

“I like how you talk about art.”

A small smile crawls across Lucas’s face and he closes his eyes. Jens’s hand runs up and down Lucas’s bare leg under the blanket, his fingertips trailing over the skin, leaving sparks in their wake.

“How do I talk about art?”

“Mm…” Jens sighs, shifting his head against Lucas. “Like you invented it.”

Lucas laughs.

“I definitely didn’t.”

“Wait, let me…” Jens shakes his head, laughing. “How do I say this…”

“Take your time.”

Jens is quiet while he thinks, and there’s a chance Lucas might fall asleep. He’s still smiling absently to himself. He can feel his own heartbeat, and it’s slow. It doesn’t speed up when he notices it.

“You talk about it like just talking about it is art.”

Lucas hums, pressing a kiss to the top of Jens’s head.

“I think I just really like it.”

“What do you like about it?” Jens whispers.

“Hm… It’s relative.”

“Tell me.”

“Like… There’s no set… ideal, I guess, for what it is. It’s whatever the artist makes it. It’s so… diverse? There are so many different forms, like, photography and painting and drawing, and sculpture. And then even in just sculpture alone there are so many forms, there are clay and carving and relief and casting and contemporary. And then there’s performing arts, and culinary arts.”

He sighs, feeling Jens gently scratch his nails across his leg.

“There’s no good or bad.” He shifts his head, combing his fingers through the hair on the back of Jens’s head. “Actually that’s the one thing I don’t like about it. Or rather, about the people who do it.”

“Good and bad?”

“Yeah. People who say stuff like ‘I’m not good at art,’ or ‘this looks bad’ about their art. I don’t think there’s such thing as good or bad art.”

“Keep going.”

Lucas giggles to himself, wondering if Jens is going to fall asleep listening to him.

“I think that if someone is passionate about it, any form of art, it’s art, and it’s beautiful. Like if they draw something for the first time, but they’re excited about it and they enjoyed doing it, it’s good. It’s only going to be ‘bad’”— he does finger quotes even though Jens isn’t looking— “if they don’t want to do it. If they don’t believe in it. If they’re passionate about it, it’s good, whatever that means, no matter what style they do or skill level they’re at.”

Jens’s hand slides up to his hip and slips under Lucas’s hoodie.

Which is actually Jens’s hoodie.

They both woke up last night, cold, and giggled at each other in the dark as they scrambled to find their clothes. Lucas ended up finding Jens’s hoodie and grabbed it before Jens could find it. He put it on backwards at first, and, trying to turn it around, got tangled in it. Jens had laughed at him, trying to help him, but it didn’t work very well, as they couldn’t see. When they finally managed to get it on right, and Jens got another hoodie on, they were both shivering, laughing quietly as their hands shook, fumbling and searching the foot of the bed to find the blankets. They ended up falling asleep with their arms and legs tangled like knots. (Lucas can’t remember a night he slept so well.)

Jens pulls at the small of his back and Lucas moves closer, wrapping his arm around Jens’s neck, his fingers still in his hair.

“Of course, it might be a little harder to enjoy someone’s first time making art if they’re playing like the violin or flute or something.” He doesn’t hear it, but Jens’s shoulders shake against his as he laughs. “But we can still appreciate it. They’re still exposing a little piece of their soul for the world to see. Hear. And that’s beautiful.”

“It is. I’ve never thought about it like that,” Jens says, his voice muffled by Lucas’s arm.

“Hm.”

Jens pulls away and Lucas lifts his arm for him, but he doesn’t move much, just tilts his head up in Lucas’s direction. Lucas smiles as he leans down, pressing their lips together. Jens’s hand slips across Lucas’s skin as Lucas licks gently into his mouth. His hand is cold, but Lucas doesn’t mind. He shivers when Jens bites his lip, squeezing his fist in his hair, and Jens gasps as he pulls away. When he does, his face falls from Lucas’s and Lucas gently kisses his forehead before glancing down and seeing Jens’s eyes fall shut.

“That’s why I like watching you dance,” he murmurs without thinking.

“Why?”

Lucas leans back, analysing his face. He brushes his fingertips over his cheekbone, admiring him silently.

“You look so peaceful. But focused. You’re making art.”

Jens’s eyes open and lock with Lucas’s.

Lucas can see the sunlight in them, looking like shattered glass, flicking back and forth between Lucas’s before moving down his face, his gaze intense, like he’s trying to memorise his freckles.

He doesn’t know how much time passes before he realises that he’s holding his breath and he inhales, gasping lightly.

“You’re art,” Jens says softly.

Lucas scoffs lightly, rolling his eyes at him before leaning down and kissing him, his smile slowly fading as the kiss intensifies. Lucas pushes himself up, his hand holding Jens’s jaw, and Jens slides his hand down to grasp Lucas’s leg, pulling Lucas on top of him.

He feels some type of way when he kisses Jens. When Jens holds his legs and waist and slides his hands around him to hold his neck or face. When Jens bites his lip and swallows his gasps and moans, when Jens lets out that little noise when Lucas pulls his hair that Lucas loves so much. When Jens brushes his fingertips over the back of Lucas’s hand while he talks or when his hand absentmindedly squeezes his thigh. When Jens cracks a shitty joke and grins at Lucas, waiting for a laugh (and of course he always gets one), or when Lucas teases him and Jens responds with a sassy remark and a quick kiss. When he gets a text from Jens, no matter what is said in it.

A feeling that he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be.

Loving Jens is making art.

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theartofmusicology · 5 years ago

Text

Uni is hard, especially at the top performing arts institution in Australia. it's CRAZY. There's so many things going on and you're learning songs left right and centre and you've got a niggle in your right shoulder and you think that you've forgotten your text book and you've learned the wrong vocal line... I think you've got the point. There's a lot going on. Here are the top 5 things that I've learned in my first term at uni:

Allow yourself to change - my course coordinator says this in relation to acting. Each time you make a character choice, allow your interpretation, movements and character to change. Same goes for you in your life as well. As you make different choices, allow yourself to learn from it and don't feel as if you have to be the same person afterwards. Going out when you're not a person who normally goes out on a Saturday night? Let it change you. If you decide you like dancing on a Saturday night, that's okay. Never been a morning person and want to try it? Go for it. Allow it to change you as you are. These experiences have a key word in them; learning. These are learning experiences because no one expects you to know exactly who you are from day one.

There are nice, attractive people everywhere. Learn the difference between a physical attraction, intellectual attraction and just being nice. This causes a lot of confusion and drama when people don't understand the difference. Be really clear about what you want.

The only thing holding you back is yourself - I found that when I came to uni, I would say "I can't do that" a lot. I would say "I can't belt through my passagio" or "I can't sing legit" or more recently, "I can't speak Italian". Something I'm trying to start a habit of saying instead is "yet". "I can't speak Italian yet" because I am here to learn. No one expects you to be perfect. You're there to work and learn and get better. I wish I was kidding but literally in week 1, I was performing in class and we had to sing one of our audition songs. I was singing away (as every MT does) and I got to the high belt note that I struggled with the entire year that I was working on the song and did it okay. Then my teacher distracted me by giving someone to direct my singing to. She made him walk away as if he was upset and I had to go to him and try to comfort him and I it forced me to think about the singing less and think more about the acting. In this, my voice became freer and I wasn't thinking about what my voice was doing as I got to the high note. As a result the high note just came out and it was really good. It certainly wasn't perfect but the only barrier there was me. I was in my head. That's just an example but it perfectly illustrates my point. To quote Audrey Hepburn, "nothing is impossible; the word itself says I'm possible".

Learn it early, learn it good - So many times over my amateur career, I've learnt things on the day of the rehearsal or show. I kid you not when I say I've had shows where I didn't know it until the last show (entirely different story). One of the first things that I learned was to learn things as quick as you can and as well as you can so you can concentrate on other things while singing or acting. SO many people in my course don't learn things until the day of or the day before and its shown when they've performed it. I regret to say that I have done it and I was so stressed the entire performance so I'll say it again - GO LEARN THAT THING YOU NEED TO LEARN (after reading this post). The more you learn and the more things you have to memorise, the quicker you'll get at it. Your brain is a muscle and memorising things take muscle memory. The more you learn things, the better you'll become at it.

If someone bugs you and belittles you, don't treat them any differently to how you treat everyone else - a promise that I made to myself when I moved here was that I wasn't going to treat anyone any differently because they weren't nice to me. There are people in my course and people in my dorm that aren't very nice to me at all, making snide comments and belittling me but I make the effort not to treat them any differently to how I treat the people that are nice to me. Now I'm not saying you have to be friends with everyone, because you don't. Just don't go retaliating when that person says something a bit mean to you. This only applies to a certain extent, so of course when they overstep, call them out NICELY. By reacting to every little thing, you just add fuel to the flame. If they ask if they can crash at yours before class, say yes. Try to understand that everyone has their own situation and they don't completely understand your situation either. Try to be understanding and empathetic. Also, if they genuinely don't like you, being nice to them will catch them off guard and they won't have anything mean to say to you because there's nothing for them to pick on.

~ Carolyn xo

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mykingdomforapen · 5 years ago

Text

first light of dawn

Yvon has read more words than many have spoken in their lifetime. In several languages, too. He carries a book in his belongings even when they take up too much room, John Milton immortalised by sheets of paper. The works of poets and scholars can live on without a single utterance, their words and stories carried onward by black ink.

Even so, when he reads, he reads out loud, so that he can taste the weight of them on his tongue, and hear them ride on the backs of breezes so that it carries forth, as if Paradise Lost is a pebble dropped in a still lake, and it ripples forward until it reaches the ocean. After all, the hemlock trees and the riverbank pebbles have no eyes to read; he does not tell anyone this, but he reads poetry from his little black book so that the forests can listen along, until they all can recite the stanzas nearly from memory.

Hamish finds this politely exasperating.

“Does it have to be Milton?” he says.

Yvon does not look up from his book.

“Have you got anything better?” he says.

“I prefer Bradstreet,” says Hamish. “She isn’t quite as long-winded.”

Yvon turns a page, but he permits himself a smile.

“That sounds like a personal problem,” he says.

His companion scowls, but saves the rest of his protesting for later. Yvon defends Milton not out of favour. Milton is a master of the English language, naturally, and he retells ancient stories with fresh blood--a practise that Yvon finds familiar, even if the story itself is not. Milton puts into lilting verse the dark beasts in each man, and Yvon finds comfort in their company.

But no matter how many stanzas of the fall of Lucifer that Yvon can memorise, Milton is a lease more than a gift--the English have given Milton to him in exchange for gratitude and devotion. They think that the fact that he can read and write English is a testament to the victory of their presence in this land. Never mind that Yvon can speak about three different languages from his mother’s side, and has learned English and French on his own before attending Harvard. Sometimes, as he quotes, “Neither man nor angel can discern hypocrisy, the only evil that walks invisible except to God alone”--he hears the English pat themselves on the back, and the thoughtful words taste bitter.

No, Yvon defends Milton simply because it irritates Hamish, and he finds that amusing.

“Tell a story that I haven’t heard before instead,” says Hamish.

The request makes Yvon laugh. Hamish has likely seen fewer winters than some of the bears wading in the river. There are thousands of stories he has not yet heard. Yvon closes his book, as he does not need it.

“Then let me tell you about Wenebojo,” he says, and Hamish listens.

When Yvon first met Hamish Goames, he expected to underestimate him. Hamish was young, barely past twenty-seven years of age, and he had that perpetual sullenness about him that only emphasised his youth. Yvon heard in passing that Hamish’s brother-in-law also worked for the Hudson Bay Company, which gave Yvon an amusing impression of a little boy tagging along with his older brother’s gang.

“Hamish Goames,” he had said with the sort of tone one would reserve for a funeral. “At your service.”

He had pale grey eyes, like the sky after a heavy storm had already passed, and his lips were constantly fixed in a worried line. He looked not the type that would last here. He seemed like someone who cared too much, and the Company wanted little to do with those sort.

“Yvon Fitzpatrick,” Yvon said. “At the Company’s, or whoever is putting the coin in my purse.”

There was a hint of cautious curiosity in Hamish’s eyes as he tried to affix the French name to Yvon’s face. Yvon smiled in spite of himself.

“It is not my only name,” he said, “if that is what you were wondering.”

Hamish had the right mind to look humbled.

“What other names are yours, then?” he said.

“I have given you one already,” Yvon said. “Don’t be too greedy.”

Their colleagues of the Company laughed at Hamish. Don’t mind Yvon, they said. You won’t find it easy to understand him. He speaks in riddles.

But Hamish shook his head. No, he said. Yvon had spoken very plainly. You just don’t like to understand when you’ve been refused.

Hamish was earnest, and honest men do not survive Turtle Island when they live among the English and the French. Yvon knew not to get too attached, but he already knew he would be sad to see Hamish go.

Some of the Company do not hide their distaste of the Iroquois. Savages, heathens, uncivilised--white men come up with many dramatic synonyms just to declare someone different.

“Skin crawls at the sight of them,” one Company man says, with a shudder. “Always feel their eyes on the back of my head when I go out. Can’t even take a piss without feeling watched.”

“I wouldn’t flatter yourself like that,” Yvon says. “There isn’t much to see.”

Only Hamish hears him. Yvon knows this because he sees Hamish choke on his drink.

“Their lot wear nothing but skins,” says another. “And usually, just their own. Bloody mad.”

Yvon resists to comment, because that is obviously bullshit. Especially in the dead of winter. The company he keeps do not resist to pitch in their two cents, because men will hallucinate rumours when they apparently have nothing better to do.

“Oi, Richards,” says another. His eyes dart sheepishly towards Yvon with a semblance of discomfort.

“Who, Fitzpatrick?” says the one named Richards. “He’s different, isn’t he? Wearing britches and a proper hat, like a proper Christian man.”

The man nibbles on their supper, satisfied with the answer. Yvon finds himself surprisingly disappointed.

“And they were both naked, the man and his wife, and were not ashamed,” Yvon recites.

The men’s heads turn to Yvon, as if only just now comprehending that he can hear them. Yvon regards their attention with a slight smile.

“In the day that God created man, in the likeness of God made he him,” recites Yvon. “Buck naked, too.”

Now all conversation has been silenced. Yvon is unbothered. Normally, he would carefully consider preserving the peace of the community, but that is apparently Anishinaabe priorities--which, according to the English, is not applicable to them. So Yvon does not give a shit.

“It’s been a while since I studied all of your books,” he said. “But I think I remember correctly that it wasn’t until the devil got a hold of man did man start wearing underwear.” He shrugs and takes a bite of an apple. “But what do I know?”

Richards sputters.

“You are a sensible man, Fitzpatrick,” says Richards. “Now that you’ve come to live in our world, would you ever truly want to go back into the dark?”

Yvon crunches through his apple methodically.

“Does that mean that you think you turn into the devil’s spawn every time you strip to take a bath?” he says. He rubs his nose for good measure. “That would explain much.”

Someone snorts with amusement. Everyone’s head turns to see who it was, but whoever it is covers themselves quickly. Yvon has a sneaking suspicion he knows who it is, because when he excuses himself to walk along the creek, Hamish leaves the group and follows him.

Hamish is naturally inquisitive. Behind the glower and the monotone is a young man in a new world who wants to know everything about the rivers, the mist in the mountains, the incense of a burning hemlock. It turns out that Yvon is the only one who has the patience to temper that curiosity.

“How can you tell it is a hemlock?” he asks, and Yvon shows him the hair-thin white stripes on the back of its pines, and the tough mushrooms that sprout from the jagged bark.

“What are your stars’ stories?” he asks, and Yvon tells him of Biboonkeonini, and the coming frost ahead. When the mornings grow colder, and Hamish has to blow into his hands to feel his fingertips, Yvon hears him mutter complaints of the Wintermaker. It makes Yvon snort.

“Do you have a family?” he asks, and Yvon says, That’s enough questions for today. He spoons an extra heap of beans into Hamish’s bowl, and it shuts him up, for now.

Yvon still dreams of his mother. She looks the way he last saw her, before he left for Harvard. She is cooking soup of wild rice for him, even though he is grown and can look after himself. I do not know when will be the next time I can share a meal with you, she says.

He is no longer dressed in coats and stiff boots. He sits cross-legged beside her; there is no book of Englishmen’s words in his bag, no musket around his shoulder. He speaks in his mother’s language, and in his dreams he never stumbles over his words.

In his dreams, she is just about the same age as he is now. She had departed at least twenty-five years ago. The fires have died down, the tobacco reduced to ash, the grief internalised. And yet his mother returns, and brushes the hair behind his ears as if he is small again.

I’ve gone too far, haven’t I? he asks her.

She smiles. She calls him by the name the elders gave him. It is only in dreams now when anyone calls him such. He holds his breath for the morning when he will wake up and forget what it is.

How far can you possibly go, she says, before you can never come westward? My son, you can never go far enough that you cannot come to me one day. Follow the setting sun, and you will.

Before her hand can touch his head, he wakes up, twenty years older, in white men’s clothes with a white man’s name.

Yvon is reminded of his mother by the snowfall, when he presses a handful of the freshly fallen winter against his cheek. Hamish remembers his mother through his sister.

He carries the miniature of his sister’s face wherever he goes. Yvon initially assumed her to be his wife, and when he made a passing comment with that belief, Hamish narrowed his eyes and protectively shifted the miniature away. Alice is my sister, he said mulishly. Although any man would be lucky to have her. Which makes Randall an idiot.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” Hamish would say when he showed Yvon the miniature. And Yvon would agree to be polite.

From what Yvon gathers, Hamish’s mother had passed not long after he was born. Alice was his close companion as together they navigated a childhood coloured by London fires, tumultuous revolutions, and an imposing father. Yvon risks to ask, and Hamish pretends he does not hear. Yvon does not push. Neither of them want to speak of their fathers.

“It’s strange to think,” Hamish says once, in a rare moment of honesty, “that with an ocean between us, she and I do not share the same sunrise or sunset.”

The simple longing makes him seem childlike, which Yvon does not tell him this because Hamish becomes defensive easily.

“Well,” Yvon says. “It’s still the same sun, isn’t it? Or do you English believe we don’t even share that?”

Hamish smiles wryly. He does not protest.

“Waaseyaa,” his mother calls him, in his dreams.

He wakes at the first light of dawn, and so he remembers.

#barkskins #LC writes #ok.....listen.....#ther'es no plot......there's no direction.....#i tried my best to research as much as i could but......#pls let me know if i am TERRIBLE

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zi-i-think · 5 years ago

Text

9 | The Miraculous Bastards

Pairing: Zuko x Ama (OC)

Word Count: 6100+

.☽☼☾.

~ Ama ☾ ~

Around the dinner table, we all chatted happily. After all it's been years since we were together like this. And this time we had some new friends. I sat with my cheek resting on my palm while I watched Aang and Katara tell the story of their engagement again.

"Honestly, I don't know what came over him. I was so focused on the sun setting that I didn't even hear him ask the first time." Katara laughed, taking another sip from her wine.

"I thought her being quiet was a no at first." Aang was finishing. "She practically had to threaten me to repeat the question. And when I did she instantly said yes." He and Katara shared a loving look.

"Threaten you with what? No kisses?" Toph taunted them. Everyone laughed as Aang blushed.

"N-no." Aang claimed.

"Then what?" Toph pushed. Based on the deep red blush on Aang and Katara's cheeks. It must be something a little... different than kissed.

"Anyways." Katara avoided the question, bringing the red wine to her lips again. "Before we all retire to bed. I think Ama had something to announce."

Everyone's eyes immediately turned to me. Gosh, I already regret telling my sister that I wanted to come out to everyone at once. "One moment." I held up my pointer finger as I chugged the rest of my wine while the others chuckled at me. The light burning in my throat made me clear my throat, as I set my glass down.

"Here goes nothing." I mumbled to myself and started picking at my nails. "Okay, well as everyone knows, there were a good two years where I-"

"Disappeared?"

"Went dark?"

"Didn't visit?"

Some of the others finished. My jaw dropped in an offended way as the table erupted in more laughter. "You know what, yes." I admitted. "And in those two years, I sort of fell in love."

"That's wonderful."

"What's his name?"

"Where is he?"

"How great."

The table erupted in chatter again. "Okay, you all aren't really helping me with my nerves right now." There was a slight shake in my voice as I spoke and they all stopped talking immediately.

"I think I get it." Ty Lee said, mainly to herself. I wondered if she actually knew what I was saying and gave the peppy girl a curious look. "You're pregnant!"

"Ama, really!?"

"Congratulations!"

"I'm going to be an aunt!?"

"No!" I shouted, rapidly shaking my head and my arms out in front of me. "It's been a year since I've last seen them. Besides, it was never even a possibility. Cause- well." I looked around the table. They all either had confused or curious expressions.

My eyes landed on Zuko, he was leaning back into his chair. Arms crossed over his chest as he waited to hear me speak. His soft golden eyes bore into mine. Immediately, I felt calmer and just blurted it out. "The whole point of me saying all of this is because I'm bisexual and Mulan was a woman who I was very much in love with!"

"Oh, that's old news!" Toph immediately exclaimed before anyone could say anything.

"Old news? I just told Katara and Sokka this morning. They were the only ones who knew!" I pointed out, motioning to my siblings.

"Oh." Toph realized. "Then I guess it's just old news to me. You're heartbeat always sped up whenever you saw an attractive woman." My face reddened and I buried my face in my hands.

"Moving on. I think that's great, Ama." Suki said, looking at me from beside Sokka, who sat between the two of us.

"Yeah. We're all very happy for your new found understanding of yourself." Ty Lee grinned at me. "Or would it be an old understanding of yourself? Either way, your aura is very purple and bright!"

"So, none of you think differently of me?" I wondered, peeking through my fingers.

"Of course not. You're still the same Ama." Zuko spoke up, giving me a comforting smile. He didn't speak all that much the entire night.

"So what happened?" Ty Lee's curious voice wondered.

I shrugged, a somber expression on my face. "She got really sick one day and died." Some voices expressed words of condolences quietly. "It's been hard, but everything happens for a reason, I guess." I began to feel extremely uncomfortable in the dismal atmosphere. The quiet was eating me up.

"Well," Katara spoke up, standing from her seat. I am so thankful for her ability to see when I'm uncomfortable. "it's been a long day and I'm exhausted." Aang stood up also, ready to go to bed as well.

"So am I." Ty Lee jumped from her seat. "Who knew traveling could suck all the energy out of a person." Slowly everyone left the table.

"Don't forget ladies, tomorrow is the bridal shower." Katara announced quickly before entering her room.

"Good job, sis." Sokka pulled me into him for a side hug. "The execution was a little rocky, but I'm proud of you for finally overcoming your fear."

"Sokka, your breath reeks of wine." I laughed, shoving him off me. "Get to bed."

"Mhh. Bed sounds good." Sokka mumbled happily then gave a sly look at Suki. "What do you think, Suki? Bed? Good?"

The girl smirked back at him seductively. "I think bed sounds great."

"Eww." I said in disgust. "You're going to make me throw up."

"Aww, you're just jealous you don't have someone in your bed tonight." Sokka teased.

"Yeah, it's totally because of that and not because your bedroom is right next to me." I raised my eyebrows and entered my bedroom. A sigh of relief escaped my lips. Finally. I can rest easy, I hope. The walls here are thick, right?

.☽☼☾.

I woke up early with a list of things to do. But of course, everyone needs their breakfast. Sitting at the dining table with a bread bun in my hands and a book in another.

"Watcha reading?" A familiar but still strange voice asked. Turning my head, I saw the one and only Zuko. I gave him a smile as he sat down, taking a bread bun from one of the bowls in the center.

"A romance novel." I replied, keeping my eyes on my book. "A princess falls in love with the stable boy. But he gets drafted into the war. The princess then disguises herself as a man in order to protect him."

"Sounds interesting." He responded. "I'll need to borrow it when you're done."

Memorising the page I was on, I set down the book. "So, how've you been?" I asked.

"I've been good. Bored, mainly." He shrugged. "You know. When I became Fire Lord, I was never told how much of my time would be spent with paperwork in front of me."

"That's rough, buddy." I quoted something he'd said a long time ago, cracking a smile from him. "How's Kiyi and your mom?"

"Good. Kiyi turned 12 a few weeks ago. And mom still asks about you." He responded with a warm smile.

"Did they get the bracelets I sent? I know it wasn't anything fancy, but-"

"They loved it." Zuko interrupted me. "Kiyi wears it almost everyday, actually."

"That's good to hear." I said, taking another sip from my tea. I grimaced at how cold it got from being neglected. I looked over at Zuko with an innocent look. "Hey do you mind-?"

Already one step ahead of me, Zuko took my tea cup, heating it up with his hands. Giving him a questioning look, Zuko just chuckled. "You're a very predictable person, you know."

"Well, thank you." I said, taking the cup back from him and sipping it. "So, did you boys plan anything for today?"

"Aang wants to go to the market." He answered. "Hey, what are some foods you recommend?"

"Depends." I started, pointing at nothing in particular. "Auntie Ashuna has a booth selling seal jerky. I find that to be pretty filling. There's also a booth selling different sea foods, but fried. Honestly, it's one of my new favorite snacks."

"Anything sweet?" He asked more specifically.

"Oh. Auntie Nalle has an entire bakery. She sells cakes, tarts, and all sorts of things." I listed, my mouth already watering at the thought. "She's going to be at the bridal shower, though, so Uncle Perlu will be running everything. Word of advice, don't stare at him. He'll write your name on a piece of paper and burn it."

He chuckled and looked a bit confused. "Should I ask?"

"It's kinda my fault." I recalled how I told my uncle that burning the name of a person was a great way of both detaching from them and wishing ill-will on them. "Anyways, I gotta get going. Bridesmaid duties." I stated, standing up from my seat.

"Have fun." He said as I was picking up my book, placing it under my arm to pick up my dirty dishes.

"You know me." I smirked. "I'll always have fun."

"Can you do me a favor?" He asked, just before I left. I nodded, for him to continue. "Keep an eye on Suh for me? I know she's a very extroverted person, but she can feel out of place easily."

"You can count on me mister Fire Lord." I assured him. He gave me a thankful smile as I actually felt the dining room this time.

My smile fell as I left. The mention of Suh made me feel... uneasy. I wanted to like her, I really did. But there was something about her that made me wary. I don't know what it is. But I will.

.☽☼☾.

"What a beautiful knife set." Katara opened the last gift. "Thank you, Mai." The Fire Nation woman nodded a 'you're welcome' while she grabbed a biscuit. Katara turned to look at me, as she set the gift to the side. "I didn't think I could get so many plate sets."

"You'll never need to worry about not having one." We chuckled together.

"It was a great idea to host the bridal shower here in the green house." Katara looked around at the place. Vines hung from pots, trees grew strongly, and flowers of all colors filled the clear paneled house. "It sets the perfect atmosphere and it's gorgeous."

"I know." I agreed. "Plus I think the two of us needed a break of the snow."

"Oh, please. You were in here like everyday up until two weeks ago." She mocked me, starting to fold up the gift bags.

"Yeah, some of the bridesmaid duties I were procrastinating on had finally caught up to me." I recalled, looking across the long table I noticed Suh chatting Mai's ear off. The poor girl looked so bored and annoyed.

Remembering my promise to Zuko earlier, I stood up and went over. "Hey, Mai. Katara could use some help organizing the gifts."

"Finally. Something to do." She said dryly and left her seat.

I took Mai's seat and smiled at Suh. "So, how are you liking the South Pole?" I started conversation.

"Oh, it's beautiful." She awed. "I always believed that the Southern Water Tribe was underdeveloped and unstable, but I was obviously wrong."

I tried not to feel offended by her little comment. After all, it wasn't like the Fire Nation was taught a whole lot about the other nations. "You should go to the market one day, you can get a taste of some more Water Tribe culture and food!" I suggested. "Zuko told me that he and the boys were going to be there today?"

"Oh. I didn't know that you and Zu-bear talked today?" It took everything in me not to burst out laughing at the nickname. Zu-bear? Zuko can't possibly like that. "But, anyways. I guess I'll try to go to the market."

"So, how did you and Zuko meet?" I inquired.

"Oh, it was nothing special." She swatted the air with one hand and grabbed her tea with the other. "The Fire Nation Council introduced Zuko to lots of women. We went on a couple dates, and just clicked. With all the competition I really didn't think Zuko would want to be with me, but well. Here we are."

"What does the Council have to do with Zuko's love life?" I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion.

"Zuko, isn't exactly getting younger. The Fire Nation is going to need an heir." She spoke like it was common knowledge. "The Council just made sure that all the women eligible to him are fit to be Fire Queen."

It made sense. After all, the royal life is a lot more pristine than I know. The year I spent living in the palace had me following proper etiquette. And that was just scratching the surface. Still, having a group of people limiting who you'd spend the rest of your life with sounded terrible.

"And what did you do before you met Zuko. Were you a diplomat of some sort, academic...?"

"My father was a general in the war. I never really did anything." She answered. The answer was way too simple for my liking. Especially since she likes to talk. "I hope I don't sound rude, but I'd rather hear more about you." She grinned. "Zuko never really talked about you guys."

I was taken aback by that. He never talked about us? Why? Is he ashamed? No. Why would he? "Um, well. What would you like to know?"

"Everything!" She exclaimed excitedly. Her hands intertwined and a hopeful look glimmered in her eye. And I'm starting to see why Mai said she was unbearable.

.☽☼☾.

I rubbed by my temples slowly, stepping inside the palace with Katara behind me. "Remind me to keep Auntie Vik away from the alcohol at your wedding." I grumbled.

"I'll remember." Katara grumbled back. "It's been a long day. Oh, you know what would be nice? A relaxing time at the hot springs."

"That sounds like heaven." I moaned at the thought. "You think the others would want to join us? The sun hasn't even set yet, we have time."

"That's a good idea, actually." Katara grinned. "I'll go get everyone."

"And I'll go get the wine!" I exclaimed, sharply turning to the wine cellar.

And just like that, the second evening with my friends started. With wine in our hands and the hot, soothing water up to our chest.

"...I was so close to using my trusty boomerang on the guy. I mean, who does he think he is?" Sokka complained about some shop owned from the market.

"For not lowering the price by a couple copper pieces?" Haru chuckled.

"I'd already spent most of my money on food. And that dress was perfect for Suki." He grumbled. Suki shook her head, but still smiled at her goofy boyfriend, leaning into him.

"How was the bridal shower?" Aang turned the attention to the girls.

"It went well. And now we have a lot of plates to use." Katara grinned, making me chuckle.

"Props to Ama, though. The girl was hella busy both before and after the event." Toph brought the attention on to me.

"Oh, please it was nothing." I smirked and swatted my hand. "But the chef was so rude. He told me that the dishes I requested were 'too complicated.' I met with him last week to go over everything and he didn't say a word about it."

"I saw the way he talked to you." Suki spoke up. "He was way too bold."

"Seriously though, Katara. You better put as much effort as I am right now when I get married cause I've been busting my ass." I grumbled at my sister.

"Yeah well I won't procrastinate like you did." Katara crossed her arms over her chest and had a fun-loving smile.

"That's assuming that Ama will even get married." Sokka quipped, earning some snickers while my jaw dropped. "Hey, I just realized. Katara is getting married before Ama. Even though Ama is older and still single. Ha! Good luck sis."

"Sokka!" Katara scolded while I actually bent the hot water and splashed his face.

"Ow! Ow! Ama!" He hissed and with his eyes closed, he reached out of the water, using his hand to try and find his towel.

"Don't worry, Ama. You'll find someone." Ty Lee assure me.

"What is with you all?" I chuckled, running my fingers through my hair. "I am perfectly content with my life right now. I got my friends, my family. What more do I need? Besides, I'm not worried about that. After all, I was able to pull in the FIre Lord."

Zuko just shrugged with a cocky smirk and sipped his wine. "Hey, you got good taste I'll tell you that." Suh looked a bit uncomfortable at the mention of Zuko's relationship with me and pressed closer onto him.

"Minus Jet." Aang huffed a laugh.

"And we never got to meet Mulan. So we don't even know what she's like." Suki added.

"You know it would have been nice to meet her, Sis." Sokka said with his chin up in an offended way.

"It wasn't that I didn't want to," I threw my hands up and some water splashed from my hand. "You know, the world isn't exactly all that accepting of same-sex couples."

"I was actually really surprised when I found that out." Aang commented. "The Air Nomads embraced everyone's differences, no matter who they loved."

"Fire Lord Sozin decreed that same-sex relationships be made criminal when he came into power." Zuko said. "I'm still in the process of legalizing it. There's been quite a bit of pushback by the Fire Sages."

"Why?" I furrowed my eyebrows as I started to feel frustrated. "It makes so sense. The Water Tribe prefers for you to keep it to themselves, the Fire Nation will throw you in prison, and the Earth Kingdom families will kick you out."

"Is that what happened to Mulan?" Katara wondered softly.

"Was she kicked out? Yeah." I said somberly. "She was 13."

"I had a neighbor that was gay." Haru spoke. "He had to leave town because his farm hept getting robbed and received death threats."

"So now you can all see why I didn't tell you guys anything?" I raised my eyebrows at them all.

"Yeah, snowcone." Toph punched my shoulder. "But don't do that ever again."

"Yeah, yeah. You can't read, I get it." I chuckled as I rubbed the spot she just punched.

"Ama, I promise you that I will reverse what my great grandfather has done." Zuko assured me. "No one deserves to be punished for who they love."

I broke into a huge grin. "You're all the best I'm going to cry." My hand went up to my eyes, my thumb wiping the tears that started to drip.

"We're just glad you could confide in us." Katara swam over, embracing me in a hug.

"Yeah! You can always trust us." Ty Lee also swam over to embrace me.

"Okay, new conversation before I start bawling my eyes out." I laughed, the two girls left the hug.

"Ama, so emotional." Sokka shook his head in fake disappointment.

"Says the guy who cried when Auntie Ashuna ran out of seal jerky." I retorted. Sokka grumbled to himself as he sank further into the water.

"You know, I'm kind of curious to know about Toph and Kanto." Katara smirked at Toph.

The earthbender smirked smugly, taping a sip from her wine. "All you guys need to know is that we're together and he'll be at the wedding."

.☽☼☾.

Another day had passed and we were one day closer to the wedding. Today was chock full of wedding planning, or at least the finishing touches. Katara and Aang needed to confirm the centerpieces and the decorators were going over how to decorate the venue.

We spent hours there. And it wasn't the stressful atmosphere or the pre pre-wedding jitters Katara was having that made me feel uncomfortable. It was Suh. As best man, Zuko came along to help Aang out. And Suh never even left his side.

She kept talking out of turn, suggesting things that no one asked for, and was way too loud. "What about roses as the centerpiece instead of the panda lilies? They're so much prettier." and "Wouldn't blue be a more 'Water Tribe-y' than yellow?"

I had to constantly remind her that it was both Aang and Katara's wedding and that they wanted to incorporate both of their cultures into it. But it never sank into her head. She'd apologize and do it all over again.

"I can't stand that woman." I complained to the girls. We all, minus Suh, sat in Katara's room as Ty Lee tried different wedding hair styles on her. "Honestly, I don't know what Zuko sees in her."

"I told you." Mai said dryly. Yeah, I need to learn to listen to Mai more.

"Oh, she wasn't that bad." Katara argued with her sweet tone. "Sure she had a lot to say, but you can't hold that against her."

"Of course I can. She was being incredibly inconsiderate of our culture and us." I justified. I didn't know how Katara was being okay with this. I would have thought she'd be on the same page as me since it was her wedding.

"Ama, do you think you're maybe over exaggerating?" Suki suggested.

"Why would I exaggerate?" I huffed.

"Maybe 'cause you still have feelings for Zuko. And she's kinda engaged to him." Toph said without missing a beat.

"Will you all stop with that." I grumbled in annoyance. "I told you. I see Zuko as nothing more than a friend. My problem is with Suh."

"You're problem is with Suh because you like Zuko." Toph was blunt and spoke without holding back. She took pleasure in teasing others, but there was always truth in what she said. Still. She's human and can be wrong.

"You guys simply haven't spent enough time with Suh." Mai came to my defence. "I've had to put up with her for months. The woman has no filter."

Suki giggled from beside me and shook her head. "How convenient that Zuko's two exes are the only ones who don't like Suh." Mai just rolled her eyes and I scoffed. There was no way I'd be able to convince them anything. Not if they thought I still had feelings for my ex.

"I think Suh is nice." Ty Lee spoke up, tying the last band into Katara's hair. "How's this one?" She asked the bride. Katara was the focus of everyone's attention now.

She took a moment to look at herself in the mirror. Her dark hair was put into a loose braid and then swirled into a low bun to look like a flower. The strands by her face were tied with blue string all the way to the end and pinned to the back of her head.

"It's beautiful, Ty Lee." Katara complimented after giving it some thought. "It just feels too... posh. And all of the pins are poking at my scalp." She grimaced at the pain

"Hmm." Ty Lee placed a finger on her chin, thinking about how she could restyle it. "I guess we could try a half-up, half-down style." The girl started to unpin Katara's hair.

"Katara, shouldn't your hair be a bit more on the 'posh' side?" I asked her, stepping up beside to her to assist Ty Lee in removing the pins. "I mean, this is the biggest wedding of the year. Maybe of the generation."

"Oh please." Katara snickered, laced with nerves. "Just because I'm marrying the Avatar doesn't mean everything has to be so elegant. There's only 300 people."

Ty Lee and I shared an amused look. 'Only 300 people.' The vast majority of it were our family and friends, a few others from the tribe. But each nation was also sending reporters to cover the Avatar's big wedding.

Katara didn't want it to be as big of a deal as it was. But one thing led to another while planning, and it became a big deal. She wasn't complaining, though. Because at the end of the day there was only one thing that mattered to her. That she was marrying Aang.

Taking out the last pin from her hair, I looked at my sister. She was zoned out, stared at herself in the mirror with a soft smile. The kind that only a person in love would have. No doubt she was thinking about her loverboy.

"Okay, so what if I tied beads on the top and..." Ty Lee began explaining another style to try, using her hands to run through Katara's hair. I sat back down on the floor next to my sister, seeing how her smile grew at Ty Lee's description.

.☽☼☾.

The sun had barely touched the horizon. The sky was painted in hues of orange and yellow. The blue sea looked dark except to the line where the sun's light touched it.

I took in the sight. My back rested against a large oak tree on a cliff. My left leg was out in front of my while my right leg was close to my chest as I rested my arm on it.

So far, my journey was filled with knowledge and laughter. It was odd, though. I always had my siblings with me. They were my source of joy. Then it was Zuko. And for the past three years, it was myself.

I still saw my friends. In fact, just a week prior, I visited Toph at her metalbending academy. I rarely saw Zuko. Maybe just twice since our breakup. Once when I passed through the Fire Nation and once at Yu Dao. Apparently, he and Aang were planning on creating a whole new nation. The United Republic of Nations.

It was an interesting plan. Using the land that was previously Fire Nation colonies to create an entire independent state. One where benders and nonbenders of all nations could live together.

That was a few months ago. And since then, the United Republic has made advances. Last I heard, there was a vast majority of the population for it. I had no doubt that my friends would be successful in their project.

I sort of felt like a leaf, I guess. Drifting from place to place. Not that I was complaining. It was nice, learning new things and meeting new people. There was just something missing from my life. And I didn't know what.

I didn't let myself dwell on that. I knew I'd find this missing thing eventually. But at this moment, I just let myself be content. An apple in my hand and some stupid song stuck in my head.

Spirits, it was on repeat. It was a song I heard that afternoon from an old man in the town. "When I think of that painter, that beautiful painter. My heart almost bursts and I spin on the spot." It was a beautiful song with a gorgeous melody. But it wouldn't leave my head.

"Hello there, beautiful." A raspy voice interrupted my tranquil evening. "What's a girl like you doing out here all alone."

I craned my neck to see who it was. No one I knew. Just some man, perhaps a few years older than me, leaning smugly against the tree. His black hair slicked back with some sort of gel. His layered style was made up of dark clothing. But the most important part of his whole getup was the willow leaf saber in his hand.

Or in simpler terms. The man literally came up to me with a whole weapon out. I was an unarmed girl just enjoying the sunset. He was a thug.

During the war, it was the Fire Nation soldiers that caused problems in each city. That spot was now filled by criminals and gangs. They bullied citizens for money or food or anything they could get their hands on. I was lucky enough not to come across any of them. Until now.

I remained emotionless and just took a bite from my apple. "You know it's dangerous 'round these parts. You never know who might try to rob you. Especially a pretty girl like yourself." I almost laughed at how this man was trying to sound intimidating.

"Thank you, for letting me know." I replied, covering my mouth with the back of my hand while I chewed. I looked back at the sunset, trying to ignore his staring.

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "Nice bag." He pointed at my colorful satchel with his sword. "What's in it?"

"Alot, actually. Some copper pieces, some gold, some silver. Passport, hair ties, good stuff like that." I egged him on and looked up at him. He had a mischievous smirk, thinking this would be an easy steal. "You can look through it if you'd like. But you won't find your dignity."

His smirk disappeared and he sneered at me. "You taunting me?" He pointed his sword at my chest.

I sighed with annoyance and got off the floor with my hands on my hips, his sword still pointed at me. "Look man, I was just trying to enjoy the sunset until you got here."

"Funny, I just started to enjoy my evening when I saw you here." He chuckled.

I didn't know how long he wanted to keep bickering like this. And I just wanted to get back to the sunset. So I snapped open my waterskin and bent the water in it to spash it against his sword and then froze it against the tree.

The man's eyes widened and tried to pull the sword out, despite it not budging. "Okay, buddy. It's been wonderful being threatened by you, but as you can see I will be winning any sort of fight against you. So, if you just agree to leave me alone, I'll unfreeze you little toy." I tried to strike a deal.

But my self-assured ass didn't see the man behind me. Pulling on my hair, he drew me close to him and placed a dagger against my throat. "Nuh uh, sweetie." His gross, hot breath was on my ear. "You see, we never travel alone."

Three other thugs came out of hiding. Each of them with disgusting smiles. One of them grabbed my bag and looked through it. "Ha!" She exclaimed, pulling out my bag of coins.

"Jackpot!" One of the others jumped happily.

"Now if you'll just unfreeze my friend's sword, we'll be on our way. And you'll be unharmed." The man who held me growled.

"Gladly." I responded and bent the frozen water off and struck the man holding me in the face. Effectively getting him to remove his grip on me.

The others sprung into action. Mister 'hello there, beautiful' ran over to me, swinging his sword. I dodged it by side stepping to my right, and used my water to, this time, push him onto the ground and froze his hand on the ground.

The woman stomped her foot on the ground, and the earth beneath me rumbled. I jumped back, avoiding the sharp earth that sprung from the ground. I took my water and used the waterwhip to slap her harshly, throwing her onto a tree.

But while I did that, I didn't notice that the other guy bent the earth, holding my feet to the ground tightly. It felt like the earth was cutting off the blood circulation to my feet. In shock I looked down. But when I looked back up the man was sprinting, sword in hand and ready to strike me through.

I called my water to me, but just before I could do anything, a new person entered the fight. A woman. All I saw was a blur of red hair as she tackled the man to the ground. Rolling back up, she lunged again. Punching the man's throat. His hand went up to where she injured him, like he couldn't breath.

The earth around my feet disappeared back into the ground. I was free, but I was right when I speculated that the rock was cutting of my circulation. It was like tiny needles were continuously poking at my feet, and I fell back into a seated position.

The man that held me before was back up and held his dagger tightly in his hand. Swinging it across his body to attack the woman. The mysterious redhead jumped back, grabbing his arm to hold him in place as she then kicking his knee in. The man, with a backwards leg cried out in excruciating pain.

One of the other, that hadn't done anything yet, dropped the bag of money on the ground. He unsheathed his sword and walked over to the woman. She in turn, unsheathed her own sword, a katana to be exact, and the two pieces of metal collided.

Using his own strength against him, she moved to the side and he fell forward slightly. And while he was hunched over, the woman slammed the butt of her katana against the back of his head, making him fall over in extreme pain.

The woman I fought earlier was also back up, bending two pieces of rock beside her, she threw it at the redhead. She dodged both as she ran towards her before sliding beside the woman. And when she jumped back up she kicked the back of her knee, getting the attacker to fall on her knees.

The redhead pointed her katana at the woman's head. And everyone paused. Well, all of them were maimed pretty badly. "You thugs need to watch it." The redhead's voice spewed venom when she spoke to them. "If you ever try to cause pain to another innocent person, I won't be as merciful."

The ones that were capable nodded in understanding. Satisfied, the mystery woman sheathed her katana walked over to me. With some feeling of my feet I stood up to greet and thank her. But I guess there wasn't as much feeling as I thought and my body started to lean forward. Luckily, the woman was right in front of me and caught me before I could fall any further.

"Woah there." She laughed lightly, helping me stand by wrapping her arm around my waist and allowing for me to lean on her. "Are you okay."

"Perfect." I chuckled at myself. "Thank you, so much." I then looked back over to the group of criminals. "That was incredible. The way you moved and everything."

The woman shrugged. "It was nothing. I do this over four times a week." I looked at her curiously. "I'm part of this group. The Miraculous Bastards."

"The Miraculous Bastards?" I laughed and was finally able to hold myself up. She chuckled with me. Spirits, her smile is gorgeous. In fact, now that I look at her, her entire self was beautiful. She had dark red hair that hung loose and ended at her shoulders. Sparkling forest green eyes. And she was taller than me by two or three inches.

"I didn't choose the name." She shook her head.

"I'm Ama." I introduced myself.

"Ama?" She repeated like she recognised it. "Wait, weren't you one of the waterbenders that traveled with the Avatar?" I nodded and smiled at her excited reaction. "You literally saved the world! Meeting you is an honor."

"Thank you." This kind of attention always left me feeling a little awkward.

"So, what exactly are you doing here?"

I shrugged. "Just traveling around. That is, until something else comes around and my life takes another turn."

The woman tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "Um, I hate to ask, but would you by any chance want to meet my friends? It doesn't have to be for long and our camp isn't far." She pointed with her thumb towards a direction away from the cliff.

"The rest of the Miraculous Bastards, you mean?" I inquired with a smirk.

"Yeah." She chuckled.

"I'd love to." I agreed. "Just let me grab my stuff." I crouched down, grabbing my satchel and the bag of coins. Ignoring the groans for help from the criminals.

"I'm Mulan, by the way." The woman said quickly as we left the scene. I smiled at her. I didn't know what it was. But just speaking to her had me feeling something I haven't felt in a long time. Butterflies.

.☽☼☾.

I didn't want Ama's sexuality to be such a big deal. In an ideal world, no one would have to make a big deal or be scared of coming out. Heterosexual is not the default. But after watching Legend of Korra and reading the first comic, I realized that this would be something that Ama would have to confront.

Hang loose, amigos 🤙🏼

#fire lord zuko #zuko x oc #zuko fanfic #zuko #atla fanfic #her sun his moon #avatar fanfiction #bisexual oc #waterbender oc

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