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dccomicsimagines · 4 years ago

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My Business - Clark Kent x Reader

Requested by Anon - A superman x reader imagine with the prompt: "I found your nose! It was in my business."

Requested by warblinglion0 - Hi! Could I request a Clark Kent imagine please??

***

Clark closed his eyes against the blowing snow. He flew over the city, using his super hearing to guide him. The city was quieter than normal. The snowstorm had shut almost everything down.

He sighed, swooping down to help a woman carry home groceries. “Thank you, Superman,” she shouted once she was at her building. Clark waved at her and took off into the sky again.

Most of his day was spent helping stranded people with the storm. He had already written his article about the impact of the storm on Metropolis’ sewer system. Perry could forgive boring content when the storm created a slow news day. Clark snorted. He bet Lois found some kind of amazing story in this weather.

He landed on the top of the Daily Planet. The cold air felt sharp in his lungs. It reminded him of winters at home. He looked out at the snow covered city, thinking of turning in. A cup of hot chocolate while watching that documentary he felt would give him an edge in a story he was researching. He felt warm already.

“Get lost, jerk.” Your voice hit his ears. Clark’s eyes widened in surprise. It was like he was subconsciously listening for you sometimes. Your voice always came to him in the moments he never suspected.

He floated into the air, searching for you. You sounded too close to be at your apartment across town.

“Stupid, country bum,” a man’s voice echoed near you. Clark heard a door slam. He flew faster before slowing when he found you trudging through the snow in the street. His stomach dropped at how underdressed you were. You didn’t even have a coat on.

He almost flew down to you, but he stopped himself. People couldn’t see Superman around you. Too risky. He quickly flew to his apartment only a block away. Changing into regular clothes, he made sure to pick up an extra coat for you before zooming back to you.

***

You wrapped your arms around yourself and cursed your situation. Why didn’t you bring a coat? Why did you decide to go the the club during a snowstorm? You shook your head, feeling the snow settled on your head. Everything was shut down. You shivered, crossing the street to make the long walk home.

“(Y/N)? What are you doing out here?” Clark’s voice made you jump. You spun around, seeing him run over to you. Ironically, he was dressed for the weather. Funny since he couldn’t feel the cold. “Where’s your coat?” He had an extra coat over his arm, which he quickly wrapped around you. You slipped your arms in the sleeves, noting how warm it was.

A shaky laugh escaped you. “I found your nose. It’s in my business...again.” You tapped his nose before struggling to zip up the coat. Your fingers were already numb, burning from the cold. Clark shook his head, smiling as he zipped it for you.

“Come on. It’s too far for you to go home now. My place is nearby.” He wrapped a strong arm around you and led you home. “Now why are you out in this weather?”

He was so warm and his big frame blocked the wind. “Well, I got invited to a club by some friends of Lucy’s.” You bit your lip. “I thought I’d go, but then one of the guys started making fun of me when I didn’t know what...” You stopped yourself from spilling the embarrassing conversation. “Never mind.”

“You’re always getting in trouble.” Clark unlocked his building’s front door and held it open for you. You hurried inside, stomping your feet to knock off the snow. Shivers rocked your body, you could have swore ice was forming on your body.

“And you’re always popping up to help.” You rolled your eyes. “I never would have thought my good old brother, Pete, would ask you to keep an eye on me so much. Do you two even talk that much anymore?”

“We do.” Clark bit his lip. Pete Ross didn’t call him that much, but they always caught up when Clark went home for a visit. It was actually during one of those visits that Pete asked Clark to keep an eye on his younger sibling who got it into their head to move to Metropolis. Pete thought you were in over your head, and honestly, most of the time you were.

You pulled Clark’s jacket closer as you both headed to the elevator. “I mean there was that time where I was in that bad roommate situation, so you helped me move. Then I wanted to rent that one place for really cheap and you stepped in to show me how bad it was. Of course, then you came in with that offer to live with Lucy Lane in a nicer part of town.”

Clark blushed slightly. “Well, it’s the least I could do. I mean you’re practically family, (Y/N).”

Your stomach soured slightly. You were afraid he only saw you as Pete’s little tagalong sibling. Who could blame him when you felt so helpless most of the time? “I personally think it’s because you want to make up for breaking up my mud mask business in the fifth grade.”

He laughed hard, almost doubling over. “You were taking mud from the pond and mixing it with your mother’s perfume. It made three people break out in hives.”

“I had a warning label on it.” You smiled at his reaction. “And it was five dollars a bottle.”

Clark shook his head. “Ma actually bought one from you. She didn’t use it though. In fact, I think she still has it sitting in the garage.”

“Too bad for her. Lana swore by it. Said it cleared up her acne just like that.” You snapped your fingers, chuckling along with him. The elevator doors opened and Clark led the way down the hall to his apartment.

“In all seriousness though, you shouldn’t have went out with a storm on the way. The city shuts down during snowstorms.” Clark unlocked his apartment door and pushed it open to let you in first.

“The club was still open.” You wandered inside, flicking on the lights to take in the bland surroundings. The only personal items were a framed newspaper article and three family pictures of the Kents.

“Stupidly still open, yes.” Clark shut the door and locked it. “I’ll make some hot chocolate. Make yourself comfortable, (Y/N).” He took off his coat and shook it out before pulling off his shoes. You kept the coat on, still warming up.

Clark went into the kitchen and you trailed behind him. “Were you as helpless as me when you first moved here?” you asked suddenly as you took a seat at the counter. Clark blinked, turning to look at you while he turned on the stove.

“Yes. I had no idea what I was doing and I had a few tricky situations myself.” He smiled. “I’m glad I can help you not to make the same mistakes I did.”

You hummed. He turned back to start warming up the milk. “Of course it was easier for you. Being Superman and all.” Clark flinched, looking at you with wide eyes. You laughed at the sight. “I know. I know. We’re not supposed to talk about it. It’s the thing we know, but never speak of.”

Clark sighed. “I don’t think that made it easier for me.” He cleared his throat, turning back to the stove. “It was hard to hide my powers. To have some much noise around me all the time. Not to mention when I decided to become Superman.”

You watched him, noting the tension in his shoulders. Part of you wanted to go hug him, but you resisted. You didn’t know how he would react. “I remember the first time we knew for sure that you were something special. It was during winter break one year. You, Pete, and Tommy Johnson were trying to go ice fishing at the lake. I followed you because you wouldn’t let me come and I was being stubborn.”

“You fell through the ice because you walked on the thin part.” Clark hummed, getting out the chocolate mix.

“No one would have noticed, but you heard me scream.” You crossed your arms. The chill from the freezing water felt like a permanent scar every time you thought back on that day. “I went under the ice and I couldn’t find a way to get out.”

“I dived in after you.” Clark mixed in the chocolate slowly. You wondered if he was remembering how cold the water was too, even though he didn’t get cold. “I had to break through the ice once I found you. Pete and Tommy ran over to help. I let them pull us out. Tommy couldn’t believe I broke through the ice, but Pete told him it was thin there too.”

“None of us said anything about it, but you did save my life that day.” You took a deep breath, slipping off your chair. Taking off his coat, you were finally warm enough. “We always knew, but never really talked about it. I remember I tried to ask Pete to ask you to lift this big rock for me and he slapped my face.”

“He slapped you?” Clark spun to you, staring at your cheek like Pete just slapped you right this second. You chuckled and touched your cheek. It had stun a lot. You cried at the time.

“Pete was protecting you. Like I said it’s the thing we all knew, but never talked about.” Your face burned at the concern on his face. “I’m fine, Clark.”

Clark bit his lip, turning away to grab two mugs out of the cabinet. You snorted when you saw he had a superman mug. “Ma gave this to me. She thought it was funny.” He handed you a filled mug and turned off the stove.

“It is if you know.” You took a sip, licking your lips. “This is good.”

“Thanks, I learned from the best.” Clark took a sip of his own hot chocolate. “I was going to watch a documentary for work if you want join me? Otherwise, we can just watch regular TV, I’m not picky.”

You headed into the living room and made yourself comfortable on his couch. “The documentary is fine. I like learning.”

“I bet Mrs. G just rolled over in her grave at that.” Clark laughed. “I remember how you made her so mad that her face turned completely red like she was going to burst into flames.”

“Good times.” You laughed, relaxing as Clark sat down beside you. Shyly, he grabbed a blanket and covered you and himself with it. You hesitated before cuddling into his side.

Clark paused. You saw a mixed expression of emotions cross his face. “You comfortable?”

“Yep.” You took another sip from your mug. Clark relaxed and turned on the documentary. The two of you snuggled while the snowstorm raged outside.

***

The next morning, Clark was startled to hear eggs frying in the kitchen. He slowly got out of bed and was about to leave his bedroom until he remembered you. Quickly, he pulled on an old Smallville High t-shirt. No reason to scare you with his bare chest.

You were in the kitchen. Clark stopped in the doorway, his breath taken away. He had forgotten he had given you a shirt of his to wear. You turned when you heard his gasp. “Good morning.” You waved innocently before turning back to the stove. “I hope you don’t mind that I made us breakfast. I figured it was the least I could do since you let me stay here last night.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to send you out into the storm.” Clark sat down at the table. His body threatened to burst into flames. Why did you look so good in his shirt?

“You could have flown me home.” Clark watched you as you made a plate for him. He almost groaned at how domestic it was. Part of him wished you could be here every morning. However, the other part of him knew you were Pete Ross’ sibling. Off limits.

Clark cleared his throat. You set the plate in front of him. “Thank you.” He dug into the food to distract himself from the racing thoughts.

You laughed and made a plate for yourself. Clark tensed when you sat down right next to him. “So it’s still snowing outside,” you said, picking at your food.

“It is.” Clark glanced out the window at the winter wonderland outside. “I’ll have to insist you stay here.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t have to insist.” You met his eye, winking at him. “But what are we going to do all day long?”

Clark took a big bite of eggs. His heart fluttered at your wink. “I do have to write an article, but after we could...I don’t know...maybe break out that game we used to play?”

“You still have that? And you have it here?” You gasped, clapping your hands.

“Ma sent it to me a year ago. Said I might need it.” Clark chuckled. He avoid mentioning that Ma only sent it after she found you out were moving to Metropolis. Come to think of it, Clark wondered if Ma knew something he didn’t. Then again, she always did.

You went into a story about when you all first played the game. Clark listened, remembering it himself. You, Pete, and Clark played the game for the first time in the basement of his house while there was a tornado warning. A warm fuzzy feeling came to his chest. Clark decided then and there that he would call Pete once you went home and ask him for permission to ask you out.

#clark kent #clark kent x reader #clark kent imagine #superman #superman x reader #superman imagine #dc comics imagines #dc reader insert

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crash-hawk · 3 years ago

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Crash, crash, burn, let it all burn, this hurricane’s chasing us all underground...

Since I recently re-released Three to read in its entirety on Tumblr, I thought I would do the same for the first chapter of the follow-up fic Hurricane: a series of short stories set in the Passerine-inspired Kaleidoscope AU, focusing on the intersections and parallels between the series’ Hermit cast and their DSMP neighbors. Chapter 1 is a direct follow-up to Three, taking place literally hours later, so it’s recommended that you read that one first!

Hurricane is a work in progress, with three chapters completed so far. The rest can be read on Archive of Our Own HERE.

(For a look at what’s going down in this AU’s version of Third Life, check out @lunarblazes‘ devastating Give Me Back My Heart, You Wingless Thing and @exactlymypoint‘s stellar To Stars and Void He Will Return.)

The morning after’s always a bitch.

crash, crash, burn

No matter how many times that you told me you wanted to leave

No matter how many breaths that you took, you still couldn’t breathe

No matter how many nights that you’d lie wide awake to the sound of the poison rain

Where did you go? Where did you go? Where did you go...?

- Thirty Seconds to Mars, “Hurricane”

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A strange hush falls over the island in the hours just before dawn. The moon sinks into the water, unnaturally bright against stars that seem pale and faded and unreal, and seems to take all sound and life with it; the ocean is a vast expanse of smooth glass that barely seems to lap at the shore.

The Queen of the Hunt notices, and it disturbs her.

She does not live with the others in the main village. She makes her home in a vast cavern on the far side of the island, beneath a quaint red-roofed house that’s more decoy than domicile. The house is for the young ones and the new ones, who don’t need to know what she truly is (although every once and again one will come seeking her specifically, usually one who’s seen her in the Starborn’s tournaments, and if they show promise and she has nothing better to do she will take them on.)

She does not live with the others, but she’s aware of the visitors who’d come to their shore the day before. She knows them well, one of them most of all. Her own dark mirror; sometimes her twin and sometimes a stranger, sometimes an ally and more often an enemy. His presence here, in this place meant specifically to keep him out, infuriates her, because she knows it for what it is: both an implicit threat and a deliberate insult on the part of the one who’d brought him along. The thought of marching into the village and demanding that the interlopers state their intent was tempting, the thought of demanding that they leave even more so. But she and her shadow have always been flint and steel, and with each hour that passes the island feels more and more like dry kindling. The Huntress tells herself that no matter what happens, she will not be the one to strike the spark.

She wanders along the northern shoreline, not knowing why, not knowing where she’s going or what she’s looking for. It feels like she’s waiting for something, some coin to drop, some axe to fall.

And then it does.

The land around her has grown sere and scrubby, gnarled oaks making way for the flat-crowned acacia trees local to the northwestern point of the island. A huge mountain, ridged and buttressed like a castle, bulks to the sky, black against the dim, faded stars. She can see lights glowing softly from the windows of the homes her friends have built there.

A scream suddenly bursts from one of the windows.

It shatters the night into a thousand fragments, echoing from stone and tree and water, freezing the Huntress down to the bone because she recognizes it, would know the voice anywhere. That’s Etho screaming, screaming and screaming in terror and agony and something else, something that sounds dangerously close to madness--the Huntress has heard enough screams in her life to know.

She’s running before she’s even aware of it, her bow materializing in her hand from thin air, as dawn crawls over the eastern horizon behind her in a silent white line.

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Something’s wrong.

It pulses through Pearl’s mind in an insistent feedback loop, crowding out thought as they make their way back down the shore toward the village. George rambles on at her side, the most he’s spoken since she can remember, the most he’s spoken in millennia, she thinks, ever since the old forests were a new thing too huge with potential for her to govern alone. There are other siblings, of course, other gods of life and change and growth, but he is one of the youngest, and the most sensitive. So she smiles and tries her best to listen as he talks and talks and talks, about his woods and his dreams and his nightmares and waking up choking on ash, about his animal friends and the valley he made bloom in honor of one that he lost, about the unlikely friendships she still doesn’t understand, treasure hunts and near misses and the universe saying I’m going to be the best thing that ever happened to you.

“Granted, they’re both idiots, Sapnap especially,” he says, smiling. “But…”

“But they’re your idiots,” Pearl finishes with an answering smile. She can’t help it, she’s all too familiar with the phenomenon. And yet the maddening refrain continues: something’s wrong. Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong.

To the east, dawn paints the sky in fragile seashell colors, washing out stars already strangely faint. They’re close, now; Pearl can see the massive, irregular shadow of Scar’s ore pile and the dim violet glow from Grian’s observatory. There are few lights lit, and even though she knows that logically everyone’s probably still asleep, it still sits wrongly. Even at this distance, the village feels shuttered, empty, dead.

“It’s so quiet,” George murmurs. Pearl turns to him, seeing anxiety in his eyes, in the way his arms wrap around himself. He feels it too.

“Some of them should be up by now,” Pearl says absently. “Bdubs at least, he’s staying at Impulse’s house this week and he’s always up and out with the sun, I don’t--”

“I think they’re all still there,” George interrupts, pointing down the beach, to where the the last embers of the campfire still glow dully in the early morning gloom. “It looks like they all fell asleep there.”

Pearl looks, and fear washes over her like ice water.

They’re arranged around the campfire in a ring, the way they gather almost every night if the weather permits. Twenty-some people, it looks like, almost the entire village. Some are still mostly upright, slumped against each other or against the logs of driftwood. Others lie sprawled awkwardly in the sand or curled up tight against the wind. Only one remains alert, prodding idly at the embers as they roast something on a stick.

Footsteps crunch in the sand behind them, making her jump, but she doesn’t turn around. They don’t look like they’re sleeping. Their poses are too awkward, too uncomfortable, as if they’d all been struck by the same bolt of lightning and simply lay as they fell. They look--

“There you are,” complains the approaching voice, all smoke and grit. “I’ve been looking for you all godsdamned night.”

“Sapnap--”

Pearl breaks into a run.

George shouts something after her, but she doesn’t hear it. She runs for the campfire, her cloak and hood flying out behind her, heart pounding in her head and chest and throat.

The one still awake looks up as she skids to a halt in the sand, smiling. “Morning,” he greets. “Breakfast? There’s fish enough for four.”

Pearl ignores him. Up close, she can see that the younger ones do seem to be asleep, piled up on each other in awkward configurations and snoring quietly, but the others...the others…

“What have you done,” she gasps, before she’s even aware of what she means to say.

“What do you mean, what have I done,” Dream asks, blinking. His voice and expression are the picture of bafflement, but his eyes are amused, glittering jade in the light of the rising sun. “I was making breakfast. They’re asleep.”

Impulse still sits next to Dream, slumped over the half-finished clock in his lap, head bowed. Beside him, Bdubs is face down in the sand. She can’t tell if they’re breathing or not. Across the campfire Scar lies curled on his side, arms crossed loosely in front of his face as if to ward off a blow. And beside him--

“Grian!”

For a terrible, terrible moment, Pearl is certain that he’s dead. He lies sprawled on his back, limbs bent awkwardly, boneless and loose as if he’d fallen out of the sky. His wings are invisible, still cloaked, and that’s wrong, Grian can’t hide his wings unless he’s conscious enough to think about it--

She drops to her knees beside him, laying one hand on his chest, the other cupping his cheek. She feels him draw in a breath and sobs, vision blurring with relief. So slow, though, a full minute going by before he draws another, and he’s so cold. Grian isn’t supposed to be cold. Grian is quicksilver and solar flares and lightning in a bottle, rambling speech and manic laughter and too-warm hugs. His fire is gone, his wings are gone. Grian is gone. What lies on the beach beneath her hands is nothing more than a placeholder. A shell. And she knows as certain as moonrise that if she were to go to the others, to lay her hands on their hearts, she would feel the same.

“What have you done?!” she repeats, pale eyes returning to Dream’s.

Dream simply looks back at her, impassive, the unnerving smile still on his face. “Nothing they didn’t ask for.”

“They would never ask for this,” she hisses, standing slowly. She can feel rage beginning to gather in her core, flowing down into her limbs like white fire.

“Dream?” she hears George ask from behind her, quick footsteps shuffling through the sand. “What happened?”

For a heartbeat, she sees the Green God’s expression flicker, a split second of something that might have been surprise or nerves or fear. She doesn’t know, and doesn’t care. Her rage is an incandescent, living thing, as though she’d swallowed a piece of the sun.

“I told her,” he says. “They’re asleep. Dreaming. They asked for a story, and I told one. I might’ve...gotten a bit carried away, but they haven’t been harmed, George. At all. They’ll wake soon enough--”

“They are not asleep!” Pearl cries, and suddenly there’s a spear in her hand, the curved head glittering silver in the misty sunlight. “Do you take me for an idiot? You’ve left their bodies here scattered like so many empty seashells, thinking I couldn’t tell the difference. They’re not here! What have you done to them, you lying bastard?”

In the space between heartbeats a white-cloaked shadow suddenly appears at her side, obsidian blade leveled inches from her neck. “Put it down,” the War God snarls. “Now.”

“No,” she says, not even bothering to look at him.

“You’d break guest right?” Dream asks, still smiling congenially, stepping forward so Pearl’s spearhead rests just below his collarbone. “Your little commune holds that sacred, doesn’t it? You’d run me through in the sight of the sun, in front of your ‘brother’? Well, go on, then. I’m right here. I won’t even dodge. Your place, your rule.”

“Pearl, Sapnap, stop,” she hears George cry, dismayed. “Dream, what the hell’s gotten into you??”

Pearl’s hands tighten around the polished ashwood haft of the spear. The rage in her is burning agony. And yet she can’t move.

The Green God smiles, his eyes the color of acid and chlorine and radiation. “I know you,” he whispers. “I’ve known you since you were formed. You’re not cut out for this role. You don’t have it in you.”

There’s a sudden ‘twang’ and a puff of sand as an arrow strikes deeply into the beach a bare millimeter from Dream’s ankle. Another grazes Sapnap’s cheekbone a second later, drawing a thin line of blood.

“You’re no guests of mine,” a woman’s voice calls from a point above and behind them. “And I do.”

The War God’s sword jerks away from her neck, and Pearl’s paralysis breaks. She whirls, her spear falling from shaking, nerveless fingers, to see False, Lady of War, Queen of the Hunt, standing atop a wave-beaten spar of rock, longbow nocked and drawn. Nor is she alone: beside her stand Iskall of the Mountains, his stone sword carved with runes and shimmering with enchantment, and Wels, Guardian of the Gates of Hell, in full dark armor and wielding a battleaxe the color of smoke.

“You,” Sapnap spits, black eyes narrowed and full of venom.

“Me,” False agrees.

“What the hell,” Iskall thunders, fire glinting in his eye, “did you do to Etho.”

Dream rolls his eyes. “Stars, Void, and In-Between, how many of you are there?”

“More than you’d believe,” Wels answers. “This is our place. Our home. And I think it’s high time you returned to yours.”

“You’ve outstayed your welcome,” the Huntress states flatly, her normally blue eyes as black as Sapnap’s as they drill into Dream. “I suggest that you and both of your friends get in your boat and leave. Right now.”

“Mm,” Dream looks up at the sky for a moment, as if thinking. “And if I don’t care to leave just yet? I never got to read the ending to that story I was telling last night, and your student body was so excited to hear it.” He glances over at the sleeping apprentices, and Pearl feels a stomach-clenching rush of fear and revulsion at the implicit threat. “Besides. You know you can’t kill me. You know it better than probably anyone else here.”

False laughs.

Dream’s forehead furrows, and Pearl is gratified to see that awful smile slip just a notch. “Care to share the punchline?”

“Oh, that’s true enough,” False admits. “You’re right, it won’t be my arrow that brings you down, though I must admit I’d greatly enjoy the trying. It’s just funny to me, how confident you are, considering where you stand.” She smiles, a tight, icy little smile that makes Pearl shiver in spite of herself, as she glances back at the village.

No, Pearl realizes, not at the village: at the rickety, towering sculpture in the center of it...and the yawning sinkhole beneath.

Dream’s smile falls off of his face so quickly Pearl can almost hear it thump into the sand. George stands beside him, looking confused and utterly miserable, hands twisting together. Pearl hates Dream almost as much for putting that expression back on his face as she does for the motionless bodies at her feet.

“What in the hell are you talking about,” Sapnap snarls, scowling in confusion.

“Shall I call him, Dream?” False continues softly, still smiling. “How about it? We’ve all got time, after all, while we wait for our friends to wake. I’m sure he’d be very interested in your stories. He’s a much more courteous guest than you are.”

“He won’t come,” Dream protests, but he doesn’t sound so confident anymore. “He’s busy, and lazy, and thousands of leagues away besides. He’s got a new playmate, and they’re enjoying themselves too much with their little empire down in the Southern snows to bother with you.” The smile returns to Dream’s face as if it never left, but there’s no mistaking the undercurrent of fear in his voice, the obvious way he’s trying to convince himself of what he’s saying. “And why should he answer to you at all, hiding away with your own little playmates on your nowhere island? You’re bluffing.”

“Am I?” the Huntress asks, dark eyes glittering.

A tense silence settles over the beach. No one moves. Even the waves seem to hold their breath, waiting to see which way the scales will dip.

“Why?” Pearl finally asks, her voice breaking. “What did we ever do to you?”

“Like I told you, they’ll be awake soon,” Dream says with a shrug. “Ask them.”

“Leave,” False reiterates, her smile gone, her voice cold. “All three of you. And don’t come back.”

“Very well, as my Queen commands,” Dream answers, sketching a mocking bow. “George, Sapnap, let’s go.” He turns to Pearl with a smile, green fire dancing in his eyes. "Until next time, my dear." And with that, he walks away, moving off towards the docks.

Pearl recoils, skin crawling with loathing and a creeping, nameless dread. “George, wait,” she entreats, sorrow and desperation thick in her voice. “You don’t have to go with them.”

George looks back and forth, from her, to False and Wels and Iskall with their weapons drawn, to his two friends, and then back to Pearl. “They’re my friends,” he murmurs helplessly.

He turns, walking off down the beach after Dream. A sob escapes Pearl’s throat.

Of the three of them, Sapnap lingers the longest, staring up at the three on the rocks with his sword still drawn.

“He’ll betray you, you know,” False says quietly.

“Stop talking about things you haven’t the least idea about,” Sapnap grits.

“He will, though. He’ll betray you the way the scorpion betrays the frog in the old tales, because it’s his nature. And because you have something he doesn’t, a capacity he doesn’t understand and never will, no matter how badly he wants it. I know, because you and I are the same. You’ve already begun to discover that capacity, as bumbling and resistant and stupid as you are. When you finally figure out the rest, he won’t be able to stand it. He’ll turn on you, and he’ll hurt you.”

“Whatever you say,” he mutters dismissively, but he sounds unsure of himself. At last, he sheaths his sword, stalking off after the others. Pearl wonders if either of them will remember this incident two days from now, if they'll be allowed to remember it.

When they’re finally gone, their boat nothing more than a hazy speck on the water, Pearl collapses to the sand. She pulls Grian into her lap and holds him, not letting go even as Impulse comes to with a strangled scream, clutching at his abdomen and hurling the half-finished clock into the waves with a cry; as Bdubs scrambles wild-eyed to the water after it, his legs shaking like those of a newborn colt; as Scar begins to cough and gasp and struggle to fill lungs that don’t seem to remember how to breathe; as the apprentices stir, looking around with dazed and uncomprehending eyes.

It’s only when Grian finally wakes, silent and gasping and threatening to shake himself to pieces in her arms, his pupils shrunk to the size of pinpricks, that Pearl finally, finally allows herself to cry.

#Hermitcraft #Hermitcraft Season 8 #Third Life SMP #Dream SMP #Passerine #Fanfiction #PearlescentMoon #c!Dream #GeorgeNotFound #Sapnap #FalseSymmetry #Iskall #Welsknight #Grian #GoodTimesWithScar #ImpulseSV #BDoubleO100 #Kaleidoscope AU

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rovingpixels · 3 years ago

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Chelsea helps the kids get ready to go then turns them over to Noah. Dee declines to participate – she prefers time on her own, especially after this morning.

It's an awkward walk down to the town beach but when they get there, it's easy to spot the guy with the clipboard and pile of t-shirts in the picnic area. He distributes the shirts – "Fancy Fish for the kids because you all are going to make this place shine! And Cranky Crabs for the big sims because they're so cranky – right, kids?" He winks, not noticing some of the horrified looks he gets in return. "Just kidding! It's actually Capable Crab because YOU CAN MAKE A DIFFERENCE!"

After they change into their t-shirts, they gather round for an orientation.

"Good morning! If you haven't heard, I'm Koa! Thank you for coming out to take part in beach conservation! Litter control along our shoreline is so important – it "LITTER-ally" affects the health of all of us!" He chuckles at his pun. "Clean, safe, usable water is essential to all life, whether it's fresh water or salty – what we call the marine environment. You'll learn some things today that will affect how you interact with the beach while you're here and hopefully your own waterways when you go home. Are you ready?!"

Weak cheers go up when they realize he's waiting for a response.

"Alright! This is a great place to get started because a lot of sims gather here, and sometimes..." He pauses for effect. "They're not so careful. Everyone look around and see if you can find something that doesn't belong in this environment." He bends and starts to dig in the sand to show them how it's done and the family follows his example. Of course, they've been doing it casually all week. A bit later, he stands up. "That's it! Good job! Gather what you can; we'll look at it in the end. Come back here at lunch time and we'll feed you. Now, have a great morning!" And he leaves.

They work up and down the beach north of the picnic area. The younger kids break off on their own and Jackie and Noah work solo. Jackie had wanted a fancy fish t-shirt instead of the cranky crab but the guy said they didn't have it in adult sizes. This made her sad until she discovered a hermit crab living in a discarded bottle on the edge of the beach. She urged it into a shell she'd found earlier and it gratefully accepted. She couldn't communicate with it as she did with the dolphin the other day but she still felt a bond with this child of the ocean.

Noah finds solace in the work. He keeps some distance from the kids but it makes him glad to see them work on this together.

At noon, Noah and Jackie are the first back at the picnic table. Koa has grilled up lunch for them: some sort of kabobs plus tofu dogs, something for everyone. He drops eco facts with each plate he hands out. At the table, Jackie talks about her morning and Noah appreciates the normalcy of it.

When the littles arrive, Trix is raging: "I'm starving!" A tofu dog soon puts her in a better mood.

"Where's the stuff you collected this morning?" Jackie asks Joey.

"We threw it in the trashcan."

"I thought we were supposed to keep it to show Koa?" Noah asks.

The littles look back and forth at each other, worried. Noah sees they're walking on eggshells around him.

"It's no big deal That's where it would end up anyway."

After lunch, they patrol south of the picnic area.

The littles stick together but now Jackie follows along with Noah and they chat and even joke. She tells him about her feelings for the ocean and talks about seeing her dad's performance this afternoon. She talks a bit about her siblings, how close she and Dee have been their whole lives, how much she loves her sister for the person she is, for always being there for her.

And she tells him about a time when Veronica's dad came to the house with a present but it wasn't for Veronica, it was for her.

"It was so awkward! I kind of hated it because he said he felt sorry for me because my dad was in prison. I didn't like to hear sims talk about it, especially if I didn't know them well. Plus the gift was weird. The guy doesn't get kids, for sure. And it really hurt Veronica's feelings that he didn't have anything for her. She's kind of sensitive, you know?" He nods, chastened. "But she can be a real jerk, too." He decides not to enthusiastically agree and just keeps nodding.

They notice the shadows lengthening and realize the afternoon is winding down. They need to report back to the picnic area so they can get to the Sand Bar.

Koa is waiting for them. "Let's have a little quiz to get started. Young man, what are the two types of aquatic ecosystems?"

"Me?" Joey says. Koa nods but when no answer comes, he continues.

"That would be freshwater and marine. We have a relative abundance of fresh water here on this marine island, one reason it is a good habitat for sims. Next, a depression in ocean sediments in the intertidal zone..."

"We're going to be late," Jackie whispers.

Noah steps up, reaching out to shake Koa's hand. "Thanks so much for everything you do. We have an appointment now so we have to get going."

When he turns around, he sees the relief on the kids' faces. "No homework for vacation!" Joey sings out.

- - - - -

Thanks to @cmescapade for poses!

#sims 4 #ts4 #sims 4 story #100 baby challenge #Sulani #conservation #simblr

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magicae-est-realis · 4 years ago

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Siblings

This is set after Zzyzx, but before Dragonwatch... Hope you enjoy!

“Ha! I win!” Seth’s shout was loud enough to rival the drumming rain outside.

“No way! You cheated! I saw you look at the cards when you were dealing!” Kendra retorted.

“It’s not cheating if you can’t prove it.”

“So you admit it!”

“I didn’t say that!”

Ever since they were little, Kendra and Seth had been having their infamous sibling-bonding games nights. They were infrequent, but everyone knew about them- the only requirements were that it had to be at night, and it had to be raining. Nobody else was ever allowed to join in, but the sibling rivalry meant that the entire preserve probably could have heard every word. The nights had become so well-known because the first time they’d held one at Fablehaven, they’d accidentally woken the entire household up in the middle of the night with their shouting. After everyone barged in, thinking that something was wrong, Seth and Kendra had united, driving everyone out of the attic, and set about pranking every member of the household, innocent or not. Eventually, Grandma and Grandpa made everyone swear not to interrupt the games nights after a particularly life-threatening retaliation involving a frying pan and an unhealthy amount of bubbles.

Kendra and Seth were currently sitting on the floor in the attic, surrounded by mountains of games, Uno cards scattered all over the floor after Seth had thrown them in the air as a part of his victory-dance.

“You totally cheated, Seth! You can’t look at the cards, dealing or not.”

“We never said we couldn’t.”

“AHA! So it went from flat-out denial, to ‘no evidence’ to ‘not in the rules.’ If you keep changing your defense, you won’t have one left!”

“So I do have a defense, and therefore my defenses all had merit. You’re the one digging yourself deeper, Kendra.”

“That didn’t make very much sense, Seth. Your defense’s defense has even more problems than the original defense!”

“Now I’m just confused. How about we call it a draw, because I don’t think either of us understands what the other is saying right now, and I want to play truth or dare.” Seth grinned at his sister, leaning against his bed, as they both tried to figure out what they’d both said.

“Fine,” Kendra relented. “But I get to go first- truth or dare?”

“Is that even a question? Dear sister, do you even know me at all?”

“Just answer the question, Seth!” Kendra rolled her eyes.

“Dare.” His sister’s grin turned evil.

“I dare you to sneak out to Warren’s cabin, put fluro pink dye in the showerhead, and remove every last mirror in his house.” Seth laughed.

“Where are we getting the dye from?”

“I may or may not have prepared for this earlier, and if you hadn’t for some unforeseeable reason asked to play truth or dare, I would have done it myself.” Seth’s eyes widened in understanding.

“This is payback for when he called you cute, and practically dared you to something about it last week, isn’t it?”

“I shall neither confirm nor deny, but if I were to say something, I would say that you are correct.” They both grinned at each other.

“You’re on!” Seth suddenly shouted, and raced over to to Kendra’s bedside table, pulling out boxes of glitter and pink dye. “Do we have a large enough bag to carry all Warren’s mirrors? He has A LOT.” Kendra nodded. “That brings me to my next question. Won’t he see the pink when he takes a shower?”

Kendra thought for a second. “You know how he has that shampoo he uses every day? I checked, and it’s pink, too. Hopefully he won’t notice until Dale kills him. Although we should probably put the dye in his shampoo bottle instead of the shower head.”

“Sound’s foolproof- let’s go!” Seth raced over to the door, still shoving everything in his emergency kit as he ran. Kendra followed just as eagerly. Ever since Zzyzx, Kendra and Seth had felt a lot safer going out at night, and hardly ever even asked for permission to go into the preserve after Grandpa Sorenson had finally caved and shown them both a map of boundaries, where was safe and where wasn’t, and told them to be careful. The path to the cabin was always kept in good repair by Hugo.

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“You ready?” Kendra whispered to Seth, sneaking to the cabin’s front door, drenched due to the rain. After learning that it would be a games night, Vanessa, Dale, and Tanu had all made some form of excuse, and fled the main house to bunk with Warren for the night. While Vanessa and Tanu could sleep through anything, Warren and Dale were notoriously light sleepers.

Seth fished the spare key to the cabin out from under the dead and currently drowning pot plant Warren had insisted on keeping, unlocked the door, and replaced the key. He was inside before Kendra could blink. After several tense minutes, Seth crept out out of the cabin, dragging a heavy sack behind him that must have been filled with Warren’s mirrors, and spread his hands to show that he wasn’t holding the dye any more. For someone who lived in a cabin in the woods, Warren seemed to care an awful lot about his reflection.

“How’d it go?” Kendra whisper-shouted to Seth.

“Fine. They were still holding their phones and pizza, out like Olloch.” Continuing to drag the mirrors off the front porch, the wet sack fell off the last step, making a tinkling, breaking-glass sound as it hit the ground. “Oops.” Seth winced, before freezing as the unmistakable sound of someone waking up followed. Warren’s voice could be heard waking the others up, and cursing as he apparently got whacked with one of Vanessa’s shoes.

“RUN!” Kendra screeched, grabbing Seth’s hand, ditching the broken mirrors, as the people inside the cabin seemed to be running towards the door. Just as they were reaching the edge of the edge of the clearing near the path, Seth looked back, and saw a half-asleep Vanessa opening the door, missing a shoe, and waking up immediately as she saw the siblings escaping.

“QUICK! TANU! WHERE ARE MY DARTS!? THEY’RE GETTING AWAY!” The sound of something heavy falling came from inside the cabin, and Kendra could hear Dale cursing and shouting something about ‘looking where you’re going, and not falling on top of people.’

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They were nearly back at the house when Kendra heard Warren following them, shouting encouragement to the others behind him- “Come on! Let’s get them! Hurry up! They broke my mirrors!”- and other similar phrases. Kendra tackled Seth into a nearby dripping bush, breaking off his complaints with a hand over his mouth as Warren barreled past their hiding place.

Kendra and Seth let out twin sighs of relief.

“I can’t wait to see his face when he finds out about the dye. It’s permanent, too.” Kendra giggled.

“Thanks, sis.” Seth grinned at Kendra, thanking her for saving him from being steam-rolled by his distant cousin, and she returned the smile, water running down their faces.

“No problem. What are siblings for?”

They might not always get along, and might fight a lot, but they both knew the other would always have their back.

#fablehaven #seth #kendra #siblings #seth and kendra #pranks #poor warren

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thereluctantinquisitor · 4 years ago

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Another Year

OKAY so it is @frenchy-and-the-sea’s birthday and I am HERE with a terrible gift that is just... okay, listen. LISTEN. I had feelings and I just wrote them down and if it is wildly out of character please just pretend it is a really weird AU!

Aaaanyway, Alex and Tahir belong to the wonderful Frenchy and live in her amazing original work, Seven Cities. If you haven’t already, join me in this glorious rabbit hole and come fall in love with all her characters!

Happy Birthday Frenchy <3

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

If someone had told a young Alex that her life would be shaped like a cradle of wood, set adrift over the ocean chasing fairytales, she would have laughed them out of the room and told them not to bother coming back. Hell, sometimes she felt like laughing herself out of the room when she paused long enough to think about what they were doing. Seven cities. Sitting cross-legged by the Ranger’s bow, her head resting against one of the railing posts, those two words alone were enough to stir something deep and quiet in her chest. It was hard, not to long for answers to unasked questions. Particularly when they had been planted in your head by someone else. Some days, that meeting with Jon, and all the things that followed, felt like a dream. A story that had happened to someone else, a long time ago, that she just happened to overhear at a pub in some piss-soaked harbour town. A story full to the brim of adventure and triumph. Fuller still of mess and mistakes.

“Another year, huh?”

Alex huffed, not bothering to pull her eyes from the waves. “Not sure what you mean. Not sure I care to know, either.”

Of course, she knew exactly what he meant. Maybe at another time, in another place, Tahir might have laughed at her almost dramatic sullenness. But not this time. Instead, he just hovered for a while, before finally lowering himself down beside her with a soft grunt. Exhaling, he tipped his head back. Dark circles framed his eyes, same as hers. There had been some long days, of late, and even longer nights. They wore them about as well as could be expected. “You know, after all this time, I thought you’d soften up to people wanting to celebrate your birthday.” His gaze flicked down, and Alex’s averted just as fast. “It’s a good thing, lad. Means you’ve eked out another year in this mad place. And there’s no one alive who can take that from you.”

“If you’re feeling like waxing poetic, Tahir, there are better audiences for it.”

“Ah, well, Adelina is asleep.”

“Try Duchess.”

The pair exchanged a flat look, like siblings poised to push each other’s buttons. Normally, Alex’s glower was a thing of legend, but this time she felt the corners of her lips twitch traitorously and had to break the contest, masking it by casting her attention back out over the water with a huff. Rather than reveling in his victory, Tahir just allowed a faint smile to spread freely across his face. He was a spot of brightness in the inky dark. Somehow, when she needed him to be, he always was.

The silence lingered until she broke it. “I don’t make a fuss or demand a song and dance because I don’t care about it, Tahir.” Alex wasn’t sure why she started speaking. Normally those kinds of words had to be pried from her like a coin from a miser. “So unless you’ve been spending your lonesome evenings knitting a cape from old hemp sacks and sail rope, best to just treat it the same as any other day.”

There was a pause. “Well,” Tahir began slowly, “I’m not sure about the knitting, but if I’d known you wanted a cape made out of old hemp and---”

He broke off with a surprised grunt as the heel of Alex’s boot connected solidly with his thigh, then quickly caught her foot in one large hand. He raised it slightly, as if to say don’t make me confiscate this, then set it back down on the wooden deck at a pointedly safe distance. “In seriousness,” he continued, one eye still watching for any further signs of attack, “have a drink, at least. Even if it’s just with me or Adelina. Celebrate a little.”

Alex arched a brow. “That an order?”

“It’s a suggestion, Alex. From a friend.”

“Yeah, well…” Alex reached up and ran a hand through her hair. Or at least, she tried it, tangled as it was from the salt and wind. “Consider your friendly suggestion noted. I just…” Her arm suddenly felt heavy. Too heavy. She let it fall to her lap like an anchor to the seafloor. “I just don’t feel in a celebrating mood. Not of late. It’s… there’s so much to do, Tahir.”

“Like what?”

“I…” Alex hesitated. There were things to be done. Of course there were things to be done! There was always something to finish, or begin, or re-do because some half-asleep idiot fucked it up the first time. They were all tired. All drained dry. That meant something was leaking – something that needed to be fixed. Something she needed to fix.

Yet, when asked what that thing was, she found herself at a loss.

Tahir shifted his weight, boot scraping over the deck as he bent his knee and propped his elbow on it. “Sometimes, we have bad weeks. All of us, together, on this ship.” He was looking at her, waiting for her to meet his gaze. When she didn’t, he continued anyway. “None of us blame you for it, Alex. We’ll blame the gods, or the weather, or a bad hand at a tarot reader’s tent well before we’d ever blame you. This is just… how things go sometimes. We can’t change it any more than we can change the tide.”

Finally, Alex turned to face him. “So… what? I’m just meant to accept that sometimes everything goes to shit for no reason? Make my peace with it?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because punishing yourself doesn’t make it any easier.”

Alex opened her mouth – to retort? Argue? She wasn’t sure. But once again, she found the will to fight had abandoned her. Or maybe, just maybe, Tahir had a point, and she’d just rather cast herself into the sea than admit it right now.

Instead, Alex just grunted; a quiet kind of acquiescence, open enough to interpretation that she could stomach it well enough. Tahir, never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, accepted it with wordless grace. They sat in silence for a little while longer, side by side, lulled by the creaking of the ship. Then, there was a rustle of fabric as Tahir reached into his side-pouch and extended a further sign of peace.

A flask.

“What’ve you got in there today?” Alex took the flask and set to unscrewing it with half-numb fingers. The night-chill was starting to rise already. She convinced herself the drink was just to chase it away. Nothing more.

Tahir relaxed back against the rail, stretching his legs out again. “Something you’ll like.”

Frowning, Alex eyed him warily as she slowly raised the flask to her nose. The first inhale was short – a test, of sorts. When she didn’t keel over from a poorly conceived prank by one of the twins, she relaxed and allowed herself a deeper breath. What met her was something rich, lightly spiced, and possessing just enough edge to promise a good, trickling warmth that curled its way to her fingertips. Even without tasting it, she knew one thing for certain: it was good. “When did you even get this?” she asked a little accusingly. Last time they were at port, he’d insisted on staying with the ship while the others enjoyed a well-earned shore leave.

Apparently not.

As though reading her mind, Tahir quickly raised his hands. “Easy there, Captain. I convinced Davin to take my place for a bit. The Ranger was in good hands.” He hesitated. “Well, reasonably good hands. He was still sober enough to stand.”

It was easier to laugh, somehow, with that flask in her hand. Not just because its contents sent a comforting warmth straight to her stomach, but because it was something she hadn’t known she needed. It was a moment with someone she trusted above anyone else, sitting on the bow of her ship, letting sea and sail carry them towards a distant point of the compass.

Some leaks are small. Barely even noticeable, at first. But god, it feels good when someone takes the time to patch it.

“That good, huh?” Tahir asked eventually, after Alex had helped herself to a third hearty swig. Humming contently, she smirked and held out the flask.

“You tell me.” When Tahir raised his brows, Alex just rolled her eyes. “Listen - given you probably owe Dav a favour now – a thing no man alive would envy – you can at least partake in the spoils.”

Laughing, Tahir shrugged his large shoulders. “Well, when you put it that way, how could I say no?”

There it was again. That smile. The one that reminded Alex that she had her own. And she found it, then, as Tahir took the flask and allowed himself a long, deep swallow. Then another. Then another…

“Hey - don’t go emptying it!” There was a moment of frenzy, Alex grabbing for the flask, Tahir twisting away, keeping her at bay with a frantically extended elbow. Eventually, Alex managed to snatch it back and tipped it up, peering inside as though to measure the precise depth of his betrayal. “You rat bastard.”

But Tahir wasn’t listening. He was too busy laughing, one hand on the rail, hauling himself to his feet (and, more importantly, out of range). Once upright, he swayed slightly, then stretched his back. Cat-like. Content in his flagrant hubris.

Duchess would be proud.

“Come on, then,” he said. “Up you get.”

“What?” Alex was still fuming, trying to fish out the last few boozy drops with her finger. Traitor. “Why the hell should I?”

Tahir just grinned.

“Because the rest of the bottle is with Adelina, and you’ve kept her waiting long enough.”

#reluctant writes #seven cities #frenchy-and-the-sea #alex sheffield #tahir #adjksldajdkal i hope you like it #im sorry i know it's weird and out of context but i just wanted to write another alex having a birthday fic #it's no match for the Great Coat Giving one that you wrote that just lit my heart on fire #but it's been a weird-ass year and i wanted to do a little something #on this humble and wonderful day #which is the day of your majestic birth #<3

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what-big-teeth · 5 years ago

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Reveal (Cambion Boyfriend, pt. 1)

Gender Neutral Reader x Male Monster [Part 2] [Part 3] tw: mentions of alcohol ; kidnapping White rum, mint leaves, soda water, lime juice, and sugar… “Your mojito on the rocks. Enjoy!”

The middle-aged diner gives you a hearty thanks and slaps a fresh 20 dollar bill on the counter with a brown hand. He yells for you to keep the change over the noisy weekend crowd, and you’re more than happy to take the offer.

It’s another step closer to paying your way through graduate school.

At first, the idea of becoming a bartender after college didn’t sit well with your parents. Not because of the job choice, however. Your aunt’s popular mixology book collection is something they’re rather proud of. No, according to your folks, taking a long break from school could lead to you never going back.

They suggested taking out a few student loans to make ends meet. Live on campus to deal with a much lower residency fee. You agreed to staying in a dorm, but you couldn’t stomach being in near-perpetual debt for years to come. Very few people have gone through a higher educational career without incurring any debt. The odds of such a thing happening to you are astronomical. But damnit if you were at least going to try and curb whatever debt you could with your paychecks.

It helped that your place of employment was one of the more popular restaurants in town. Owned by a local, African-American family, Papa Ruben’s gained acclaim with time and great customer service. Hell, you were one of the diner’s loyal customers before Ben helped you land your job. Since starting, you’ve seen many familiar faces at the bar, but also just as many newcomers. Mostly family members joined by an undergrad or graduate student. And with the quick, accurate service you provide, many customers tip handsomely.

As you make a mental note to thank your aunt (who also served as your teacher), another rush of customers approach the barstools. All of them look at you expectantly, with the first customer who arrived dipping a pale hand into her purse.

You grin and flex your fingers.

Two gin and tonics; a round of tequila shots, four daiquiris, six red eyes, a sex on the beach. Change, bills, and even a few slips with scrawled phone numbers pile into your tip jar. The former is more important than the latter. More so as your heart is set on someone already. Too bad he wasn’t able to come tonight…

“I’ll take a Black Velvet in a Pilsner if you’ve got one.”

You pause from wiping down a cleaned, glass tumbler, perking up. There’s only one person you know who heavily favors such a drink.

A Black woman with deep brown skin leans onto the counter with her jacketed forearms. She shoves her thick natural hair—pulled back into a long braid— over her shoulder. Then grins.

“How’s my favorite barkeep?”

Her smile is infectious. “Holy shit, Jacqui? Is that you?!”

“The one and only,” she says. “Well, the one Jacqui that really matters.”

You chuckle, setting aside the tumbler. “I can’t believe you’re here in the flesh. I haven’t seen you in, what, four months?”

Her painted, red lips tremble and her smile falters.

“Five, actually.”

She goes quiet soon after and glances your way. For a moment, you think the odd light in her dark brown eyes is something akin to guilt. But it’s gone the next second, replaced by her usual confidence.

“But I’m back in town for a few days. You haven’t gone on break, have you?”

You shake your head, already knowing what she plans to ask.

“Got a minute to catch up?”

“For you? More than. Cass will be here soon to start her shift. When she comes, I’ll go on break.”

Jacqui plasters another grin on her face while you get to work on her drink. Once it’s ready, you set it in front of her on a coaster. Her hand quickly replaces yours as she takes a long sip.

“Thanks, babe. When it’s time, you know where to go.”

And with that, she slips off her barstool and past the bustling crowd gathering for more rounds.

This isn’t the first time Jacqui’s made herself at home at the restaurant. Mainly because she and Ben go back to their teenage years and he’s always had a soft spot for her. He treats her like the older sister he never had, mainly as all his elder siblings are boys. In turn, she treats him like a little brother.

It’s understandable; not having anyone around to claim you while growing up can get lonely. Ben will be just as pleased to see her, if he hasn’t already.

Cass arrives on time at a quarter ‘til nine, punctual as always. As she finishes tying her apron, she nods at you and effortlessly takes over once you finish making an appletini.

You squeeze past the busy wait staff and their large trays, waving at a few regulars who greet you by name. By the time you reach the break room, your stiff legs are crying out for relief. And you swiftly provide it by plopping down onto the old couch opposite the door.

The cushions are sunken and the fabric’s fading, but it’s part of Papa Ruben’s earlier days. The Moore family is wonderfully sentimental and this room is chock-full of older times. Photos of Papa Ruben himself, a younger snaggletoothed Ben and his two older brothers, their parents. There’s even a photo of a teenaged Jacqui surrounded by the Moore family.

Speaking of, the door opens, revealing Jacqui carrying a large sleeve of fries. She hops onto the couch next to you, offering some of her food. You snag four piping hot fries, juggling them between your hands.

“Courtesy of Ben?” you ask.

“Of course! My little bro always looks out for me.”

You lick your fingertips free of salt and ‘secret seasoning’ to cool the surface burns.

“Yeah,” you say. “Just like how the Moores would welcome you with open arms.”

She goes quiet, her expression turning neutral. She stares down at her food instead of replying.

“Whenever you visit, you always say you haven’t found a place to put down your roots,” you say. “What if that place is here with the Moores? With me and Cam?”

“It can’t be.” She places the still warm sleeve between the two of you. “I’ve done some stupid shit in the past, and it always find me when I let my guard down. I don’t want Ben, the Moores, Cam or you to get dragged into my mess. It’s something I have to deal with myself.”

You’ve had inklings about Jacqui’s rough past, but never any of the details. This is the closest she’s ever come to emphasizing just how bad things are. You try to think of a way to reason with her, but the break room’s door opens again.

Ben pokes his head inside, prompting Jacqui to slide a convincing smile onto her face.

“Here to offer me more free food?” she says with humor. “How sweet!”

“And have you eat my family out of house and home? No thanks,” he says.

You stifle a laugh, already used to their bickering. Ben rolls his eyes as Jacqui calls him a brat, opening the door fully while rubbing a golden brown hand over his bald head.

“To answer your question, someone’s here to see you. He rushed right over after I told him you were back in town.”

“You’re making it sound like I committed vehicular terror on the way over.”

A pleasant tingle runs down your spine at the familiar voice, in spite of the slight snark.

“With the way you drive,” Ben says, stepping out of the doorway, “Can it be anything else?”

“What’s that? You don’t want to bum another ride in the future?”

At that, Ben’s mouth snaps shut. You all know he’d rather enjoy some peace and space in a car not shared with his brothers. Cam steps through the doorway, chuckling.

“That’s what I thought.”

It doesn’t matter how many times you see him. Every time is new and comparable to that quiet moment during a movie night in college when you realized your feelings for him. A charming smile stretches the rich, golden brown skin of Can’s face and his thick lips as he steps past Ben.

Before you’re able to calm your pulse, Jacqui hops off the couch. You’re able to save her lukewarm fries before they fall over as she pulls Cam into a tight hug.

“Good luck dealing with her,” Ben says.

After reminding you of the end of your break, he heads out. Leaving you to watch Jacqui smack Cam on the back a few times while laughing.

“Look at you!” Jacqui pulls away from him, giving him a quick look over. “I see you decided to upgrade your fashion sense to show off your good looks. Finally. The red bomber jacket and Timbs look good, but the bottle coke glasses? Not so much.”

“Tell that to my eye doctor,” he says.

You watch as they fall into a seamless conversation, filled with snark and laughter. Jacqui even reaches up to playfully tug at one of the short dreadlocks on top of his head. As she comments on how well they pair with his fade haircut, a heavy weight forms in your stomach at the sight. They’re just friends and you know this without a doubt. But that doesn’t stop the bitter jealousy from welling up inside.

As if hearing your thoughts, Cam’s gaze finds yours and he smiles. His dark brown eyes make your stomach flutter in the best of ways.

“I-I thought you had a test to study for,” you manage to say.

“Still do,” Cam says. “But it’s kinda hard to think on an empty stomach. My brain needs some fuel and a break. Plus, I wanted to check on you since you mentioned tonight would be busy.”

Heat fills your cheeks as a small smile stretches your lips.

“Thanks,” you say. The light in Cam’s eyes grows soft.

Of course. We’re friends, after all.

”The moment between the two of you swiftly ends. Because that’s all you are. Just friends. You nod in reply, helping yourself to a few of Jacqui’s fries as she teases him about gunning for an anthropology degree. Cam just rolls his eyes at her before fishing his smartphone from his jacket.

“Order’s ready. I should get back to studying.” He glances up at you with a caring smile. “Let me know if you want to cancel tomorrow’s trip to the bakery. I’ll understand if you’re too tired—”

“I’ll be fine,” you quickly say, “promise.”

“Cool. Have a good night, and be safe on your way home.”

As Cam heads out with one last wave, a gentle tug pulls the now crumpled sleeve of cold fries from your hands. Jacqui lifts a brow at the food then you, giving you a knowing look.

“Oh honey.”

You stiffen. Your brain attempts to think of any excuse or denial, but falls short. You lean back against the couch, sighing in defeat.

“Am I really that obvious?”

“Sure, to Ben and me. But to Cam? Not so much, which is ridiculous. You haven’t tried kissing the living daylights out of him yet?”

“Jacqui.”

“What? It’s a legitimate question. You guys grew up together, lost contact, then reconnected in college. What’s the hold up?”

You purse your lips, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I don’t want to mess up things between us. Yeah, I may like him more as a friend, but I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

A gentle touch grips your shoulder.

“Sweetheart, you wouldn’t ruin anything by letting him know. Seriously.”

You just shake your head, attempting to give Jacqui a reassuring smile. The concerned light in her eyes tells you it falls horribly short.

“You should join us tomorrow morning after visiting the Moores,” you say, getting up. “Let me know if you want another Black Velvet, alright?”

You leave before Jacqui is able to get another word in.

The rest of your shift is busy, but uneventful. You accrue a huge amount of tips from pleased customers and more slips bearing phone numbers. You and Cass split the money based on the number of hours you both work. When she offers to take some of the number off your hands, you let her. The rest, you crumple and toss into the trash.

The doors to Papa Ruben’s closes at 11 PM sharp, with you, Cass, Ben, and the other staff members congratulating each other on a job immensely well done. After grabbing your belongings, you bid your co-workers a good night.

With the way your stiff legs are throbbing, you’re wishing you hadn’t parked down the way to avoid the early rush. You sigh with relief as your vehicle comes into view. Just a little bit more, and you’ll be on your way home.

You aren’t able to take another step.

The grip on your upper arm surprises you. It tightens to a painful vice and brings you to your knees.

Quick as lightning, another hand swiftly grabs the back of your neck, forcing your nose to the concrete.

“If you try and scream,” a feminine voice says, “that breath will be your last.”

There’s no hesitation in your assailant’s voice. Just a menacing promise laced with danger. You fight against your mounting fear and swallow audibly. Then go lax.

“Good.”

You barely hear the sound of shoes scraping against the sidewalk over your frantic pulse.

“Well?” an unfamiliar, male voice asks.

“You were right. This one’s got the pheromonal stink of a cambion on them. Strong, too.”

“Bear with it a bit longer.” You can hear a smile in the male’s voice. “It’ll be a scent relegated to your memories soon enough.”

One moment you hear shuffling. The next, your wrists are tightly bound together. A piece of cloth is forced past your teeth and tied tightly behind your neck.

Then, a sharp prick to your wrist. Your body seizes.

“Pleasant dreams,” the female voice mocks.

Black spots begin to overtake your vision as you’re lifted from the ground.

“Let’s go. We’ve got a trap to set.”

It’s the last thing you hear before everything goes dark.

#cambion boyfriend #monster boyfriend #monster romance #exophilia #terato #half demon #half-demon #this is the first time writing a gender neutral reader #so I hope it's okay #expect part 2 soon!

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cosmicclownboy · 4 years ago

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"Not that I don't mind our little bonding one to ones but may I ask why we are doing this again?" "So you know that my toxic masculinity bro days are over. Me and Rosa did a quiz today and turns out blue is my spirit colour so let's get to it, Manes".

Excitedly clapping and inspecting the bottle with his fingers Kyle looks at peace so who is Alex to object to it. He can't say teen Alex expected this friendship to flourish again let alone be sitting in Kyle's apartment with a bottle of red painting Kyle's nails with a shade called Sultry Sapphire. But Alex knows more than anyone that adaptability is a huge part of life. Change is inevitable. And this is a change that he's glad for. It doesn't feel weird or out of place. It feels almost like he's slowly refinding everything he once lost. Jenga tournaments as kids turned into drinking games and poker and fishing turned into going to the same gym. Eventually, Isobel fishes out which gym and excitedly exclaims gym buddies. It's actually really fun even if he has to witness his training on her Instagram feed. Being in an alien exist clubhouse is difficult him and Kyle have pretty heavy-duty careers and having the most practical sense vs the people in said group who would prod a bear simply to see how it would react well their friendship blossomed. Finishing the last touches he goes for the wine in a latte mug.

"Right this will dry in a couple of minutes. Then it's my turn, Manes. I hope you're ready for iridescent fantasy 69". He almost groans at the choice in colour with swirls of blues, pinks and purples Alex is immediately taken to the pieces in Michael's bunker all shiny and beautiful. Judging by the smirk he gets the Ortecho Valenti sibling team-up happened behind the scenes. "Seriously where did Rosa get these from? there are two women on the front having sex" "Someone she met in rehab - don't ask"

"So....hows things in the dating universe?" "Forest and Liz signed me to Grindr without my permission.....and there's only so many times I can open up a message to see literal junk mail. I also went out on a date with a man who's fetish was sucking toes he seemed unnaturally interested in the prospect of banging a man with only the one foot. Four times. Four times I've been set up with someone with the oddest fetish". This seems to gage a reaction out of Kyle who rolls a little around the floor with a chuckle holding the brush from the nail polish close to his chest trying his best not to sour the rug. "Alex you've spent the last ten years fucking an alien. You have a rain fetish dude and don't even try it Liz told me about your rain scented angst candle sessions" Oh, he is going to have words with Liz. "Hey, did I ever tell you about the time I got pegged behind a target" Alex groans heavily.

Liz feigns ignorance when Alex corners her in the Crashdown and she, of course, tries to bat her eyelashes at him thinking it'd affect him. He's a man of stone. He will not be immediately forgiving by a kind smile.Nope.Not happening. It at least has to include a free hug and the first round of drinks which occurs a week later dressed in his tightest jeans and Kyle moping because Steph left had him. Liz and Kyle made it to Planet 7 a place Kyle thrives in. "Look it's glitter night Kyle you love glitter night the shots are half off".Liz is doing her best to brighten the mood despite her own romantic failings anytime the name Max is spoken she looks haunted. And hey who is he gonna judge he knows how easy it is to get an alien under your skin he's hitting 12 years in a month and he's wondering what it would be in anniversary terms. Google tells him it's silk he almost laughs at the idea of giving Michael any clothing in that fabric the man was rugged jeans and t-shirts. When his phone is stolen by Liz who pushes a shot in his direction he remembers why he's here. Have fun with his friends. Solidarity in suffering. The drinks flow easily to the booth he's had a pina colada some other fruity drinks and a bunch of shots. At first, he didn't feel anything, not even a buzz but after twenty minutes he feels sluggish and slow. Everything moving at a different rate then it did before. You should call Michael" Liz is shouting it off from the dancefloor of which she's tripped twice on and yet somehow she's beaming. Everything just kind of blurs together after that doesn't even realise he's on his bed until his hands are grasping the pillow. And faintly he feels a kiss on his head.

Drinking is a fun idea until the Hangover hits. He's starting to remember why he doesn't usually drink. His head is just throbbing he's trying his best to turn on soldier mode darting his eyes around trying to survey the room. Okay, the only clothes by the bed are his that's good. That's great one thing he doesn't have to worry about. There are a couple of pills on a plate by a glass of water with the box to show him what it is. And he's pretty sure there's a bin by the bed and end table... Someone took care of him. Who? He takes a very long shower water hits his skin until he feels anew or at least a little more bearable. It's only when he's drying off and hearing a faint hum of music that he remembers. Oh god.

"Guerin, it's me, Alex ... shoul-should of probably said Alex first how can you know it's me it's unspecific. Can you come home now my beds all big and fluffy and I want your fluffy hair in it.I miss your hair it's soft. Can you come save me Kyle keeps waving me over to dance with a drag queen and a stripper and I don't want to- "MIKEY WE'RE AT PLANET 7 COME DANCE WITH US" He really can't catch a break. "You know every minute you stay in there is a minute longer the pancakes get cold. And you should know I make a mean stack of chocolate chip pancakes"

He doesn't know what he's expecting when he first leaves his bedroom. He's nervous. After the song, he promised himself he would not make the first move. If Michael wants him he's going to have to say it in words to his face and communicate it to him. He's tired of metaphors and unspoken words. Trust drunk Alex to immediately ignore what he wants and skip right to the stroking Michael's hair part. Which yes he wants to do all the time. He finds Michael in the kitchen using a metal utensil as a mirror checking his teeth, his hair before straightening his shirt and patting his jeans down. He's nervous too. His heart stutters a little at the thought. Michael places the table settings and looks up with a small smile. "Hi" "Hi" He gestures to the table. "It's not much I had to run to the store you have the cupboard of an 18-year-old student" Even hungover and tired he can't fight the smile on his face. "Between my work hours and alien scooby sleuthing don't always have the time or energy" "I'm sor "If you apologise I will steal all your pancakes, Guerin" Despite his head throbbing and his leg killing him it's probably the best morning he'd had in a long time. A bird is flying past the window. His dog is sleeping soundly in his bed. The smell of flowers from the vase in the middle of the table is melding with the smell of warm chocolate. And if he dares a glance from his plate he sees the man he loves chewing on pancakes slowly with a small smile on his face. It's peaceful like something out of a movie.

"I don't know if you remember the voicemail you gave me you were pretty wasted. I gave all of you guys a ride home. Valenti threw up on my sneakers I uh was glad I wasn't wearing my good boots" Michael looks the most vulnerable he's seen him in years moving his fork around the pancake in front of him. He drops his fork and squeakily moves his chair closer and reaches for both his hands. "I'm so sorry for everything. This past year especially" Michael is trying his best to hold back his tears sniffing trying to get whatever words he wants to get out - out. "You know I've uh been seeing a therapist the last couple of months and she's great you know she calls me out on my victim complex crap and gives me all kinds of homework that sometimes bugs me but it's been helping. She asked me to write a list of things I wanted and at first, I couldn't do it for weeks I just stared at the page and couldn't I didn't think I deserved to write one. Eventually, I did. Can I read it to you?"

He squeezes his hands briefly before bringing his hands to his cheeks softly stroking in encouragement.

"Number 1, Don't be angry anymore it doesn't make you happy it hurts you and it's hurt the people that you love. Number 2, Spend more time with Max and Isobel as a family. Number 3, Remember you are loved and wanted by Isobel, Max, Sanders and Alex make sure to let them know that they are your family. Number 4, tell Alex that you stole his guitar on purpose that day you heard him play at work once and you just wanted to know him. Number 5, tell Alex that stealing his guitar and falling in love with him was the best thing that ever happened to me. You can read the rest if you want" The list is the closest thing to a love letter he's ever gotten off of Michael and everything he reads is everything he wants for Michael. He wants Michael to be happy to love himself to know he's wanted and love. Even seeing minor things like I want to hold Alex's hand makes him emotional. He wants all those things too. He wants a life with Michael. He wants Michael. And everything he reads and hears as Michael reads out the lines without the paper has his heart racing.

There no longer are metaphors in the air it's words pure and simple.

He supposes he should kiss Michael but he chooses a different kind of embrace one he wanted to do for a while he wraps Michael in a hug it's warm and tight he hopes he knows in this hug how much he loves him. And if he doesn't know he can say he'll say it every day until Michael understands it. "Want to watch a bad movie on the couch and cuddle?" Michael's grip on his shirt lessons and a muffled chuckle and a nod is conveyed against his chest. Armed with coffee and a bag of chips they make their way on the sofa. The question of big spoon is gone straight away when Michael makes grabby motions with his hands. His head is pressed into his chest and Alex feels at home and at peace. They flick through the channels. "Have you seen this one?" "Have I seen a film about a flesh-eating octopus fighting a giant shark? no, can't say I have". The movie is terrible as expected laughably so but the thing that makes it one of his favourites is Michael's anger towards the films plot. "So the giant shark was actually a robot designed by a bored rich kid who wanted to prod fish which caused the flesh-eating octopus to become feral and murder a bunch of people? They didn't explain anything about the flesh-eating octopus the whole plot doesn't make any sense" Rubbing his stomach in low circles and dotting a kiss to his collarbone he smirks at Michael's investment. "And another thing -mmph" He leans back. Michael's eyes are closed his lips are puckered he pouts when he realises he hasn't come back up to kiss him "You were saying?" "I'm shutting up now....hey come back up here and kiss me"

#malex #listen its kylizex friendship hours #malexfic

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hqprotectionsquad · 5 years ago

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Sunlight (Kunimi x Reader)

Title: Sunlight Ship: Kunimi x Reader Word Count: 1,568 Summary: Kunimi takes you home after he is dragged on a double date with Oikawa and his crush. A/N: cross posted from my Wattpad!

Kunimi leans into the desk chair, scanning the classroom. Deep breath in, deep breath out. No need for anyone to see that he is having an internal breakdown. His face is stone-cold, with his eyes as dull as usual, but his head is clattered with memories and thoughts, and most importantly, a realization that shook his form in the first place: he developed feelings for you.

For him, this is huge. He hasn't had a crush since junior high, and even then, he found the idea of a prospering relationship too much to handle. Now, while his perspective toward romance has matured, he wants his feelings to be like milk, spoiled once exposed to the elements. He just needs a few reasons to create a barrier between his brain and his heart. Maybe you have a bad habit of dog-earring your pages or you chew too loud or you tend to speak on the sarcastic side. Something. Anything.

Volleyball practice arrives and Kunimi pinpoints the original source of the "problem," as he wants to call this thing that's taken over his mind. This man with perfectly styled hair is ultimately the reason why you and your best friend even come to the volleyball games and while it isn't as hard to talk to Ritsuko, you are a little more difficult, only because Kunimi can't look at you in the eyes. Oikawa approaches Kunimi at the end of practice, glowing and glistening instead of appearing sweaty like everyone else. "Kunimi-chan, will you be meeting up with me, (L/N)-chan, and Ri-chan after we finish here today? I could use a friend to help me seal the deal with Ri-chan and she'll only come if (L/N)-chan comes."

Kunimi slings the towel around the crook of his elbow but all he really wants to do with the sweat-sopped thing is throw it into Oikawa's face. Is he really indirectly pushing the limits to his brain? Oikawa wouldn't know anything about it but Kunimi has nothing to do today and his mom is always nagging him to spend time with his friends instead of reading inside or peppering a volleyball by himself. Kunimi replies coolly, "Sure. What are we doing?"

"Cafe study date, of course!" Oikawa sips from his water bottle, but the corner of his lips form a grin. "I hope we do more talking than studying but you never know. Ri-chan and (Y/N)-chan are so studious sometimes."

"I see." Kunimi nods and gathers his things. "I'll meet you in twenty."

"Okay!" Oikawa's thumb and index finger meet to make a circle. "Say hi to them if you see them before I do! They'll be stopping by the gym. See you!"

Once Kunimi gets into the shower, he does everything he can to prevent himself from banging his head against the tiled wall. The water from the shower head rolls onto his body, then off into the drain. Why did he even agree to this? He is just going to shut off, like the robot everyone says he is. This is a mistake.

"Do you understand what they're talking about?" You lean over to whisper in Kunimi's ear. He shakes his head with a frown in response.

Across the table, your best friend and Oikawa are discussing what seems to be school but also flirting with every other word. You didn't think that was possible up until that moment. Ri-chan always goes for the studious kind, which is kind of the reason why you were so skeptical when she asked you to accompany her to this study session. Oikawa never struck you as the smart guy, but here you were, proven wrong, apparently. Kunimi, on the other hand, is quiet, but it appears that he cares a lot about his grades because he actually is studying for an exam he has next week, according to him.

"What are you working on?" You nudge Kunimi's elbow with yours and at first, it looks like he's about to lash out at you. You scoot into the back of your chair, folding your arms. He doesn't seem invested in his work and he sets his pencil to the side.

"A math assignment." His voice is everything but a murmur. "What are you working on, (L/N)-chan?" Your name doesn't roll off as easy as you thought it would, and you can't help but to wonder if his would sound weird in your mouth too.

"An essay for Japanese literature. I don't really understand it though." Your lips form a thin line before you force yourself to take a sip from your latte. If you were going to spend nearly 600 yen on a drink, you needed to finish it.

"I see." Kunimi nodded and looked outside the window, no longer paying attention to you. You know that he's not an outgoing person, but with Ri-chan and Oikawa doing all sorts of things across the table, you wish you had a more receptive person to the left of you.

Ri-chan pushes herself out of the table with her eyes wide open. "Ah! I need to go pick up Haru-kun!" Her brother, only five, gets picked up. You remember meeting him for the first time and you understand why Ri-chan goes out of her way for her sibling. He is one of the shiest things on this earth.

"Let me come with you, Ri-chan! So that you won't have to go alone." Oikawa suggests with his million-yen smile and she graciously accepts.

"I apologize, Kunimi-san and (Y/N)," Ri-chan's words come out fast and muddled. They bow to the both of you before taking their leave. The bell at the top of the door resounds in your ears over and over. Did that just really happen? You ask yourself. You glance over to Kunimi's expression and it seems that he reacted similarly.

"Er, I suppose I should take you home then." Kunimi offers after noticing your cup drew empty a while ago.

"Yeah, there isn't much point to staying after they've left anyway." You shrug, placing your notebook and pencils back into your school bag. After zipping up and thanking the server for the food and beverages, you motion for him to lead the way out.

He does and he barely looks at you before heading off into a direction. "Kunimi, my house is the other way," you pant after needing to run after him. He isn't necessarily fast, but he is persistent.

"Oh. Okay." To you, it looks like Kunimi is one to only work, but you know from watching him over the year you've known of him that he doesn't even work sometimes. What is the turmoil behind his eyes? What is he thinking about?

This time, you lead the way but you make sure you stand next to him. Now that you're side by side, you need to roll your eyes up to your eyebrows to properly have a look at him. Soft threads of hair, a fit and capable body, but saddest of all, his eyes evoke stirring into your heart. When was the last time someone really got to know him?

"Kunimi-san, if you don't mind me asking," you begin as your scenery changes from the hustle of the city center to the suburbs where most people live. "Do you have friends from outside of the volleyball team?"

"Not really," he replies.

"Why not?"

"I don't go out of my way to make new friends." It is simple and the truth, but it stings your eyes.

"Right." You nod, pushing down the stone in your throat. "Have you ever wanted to become friends with other people?"

"I guess," he mutters as you turn a corner and he follows suit, shoving his hands in his front pockets. "It doesn't really matter to me whether or not I have friends."

"Isn't it a little lonely though?" You prod more, seeing if he'll say anything or do anything. You can't really imagine yourself going further out of your current friend group either, but your group is diverse in all the activities you do. No one person shares all the same ones, which makes conversations exciting.

"Sometimes."

His words trail into a deafening silence. You walk for what you believe is hours and you continue toward your home. The next time he looks at you is when you arrive at the gate of your family home. It is modest, but it is perfect for a family like yours.

"Thank you for bringing me home." You smile as you fish for your keys in your bag, holding out the strap with one hand.

"You're welcome, (L/N)-san." His grin is a ghost, only seen for a second, but you catch it.

"You have a nice smile," you comment softly and shake your head. He isn't looking for new friends, you remind yourself. Your voice raises in dynamics when you say, "So! How far away do you live from here?"

"Maybe...20 minutes." He scratches his head with one of his fingers.

"You should've told me! Your house is far from here!" You go as far as slapping him lightly on the arm, but he doesn't really react.

"It's okay. I wanted to." His small smile returns. The sun streams through the tree on the sidewalk and when it hits Kunimi, it washes over his features with a soft glow. No longer does he look dull, he shines brighter than ever.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu writing #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu writer #haikyuu x reader #hq oneshot #hq writing #kunimi akira #kunimi #kunimi x reader #aoba johsai #seijoh #haikyuu fanfiction #oikawa tooru #oikawa

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maaaddiexo · 5 years ago

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Chapter Four | Peter Pevensie

[Red Series Book One: Roses]

Synopsis: With World War Two ravaging the world, no one is safe and no one is happy.

Despite their protests, Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy Pevensie are evacuated from London and sent to live in the English countryside with an old professor. Scared and unhappy, only the youngest Pevensie child remains optimistic and ends up sharing her hope with her siblings in the form of a wardrobe that takes them to Narnia, a different world where they are the only form of hope to bring an end to an evil witch's reign of terror.

Rosemary Bennett has no more hope left in her heart. Her brother and father are off fighting for their country, the former having gone missing months ago, and her mother ignores her, preferring the company of a bottle over her own daughter. Giving up seems the only logical plan of action. But when it finally comes to carrying it out, she's transported to a different world, with talking animals and a prophecy that doesn't involve her. Unsure as to why she is there, she must navigate a new world and ponder the possibility that maybe - just maybe - she doesn't actually want to die.

*Warning: this book deals with depression and suicide. Though mental illness isn't what this story revolves around, the act of suicide and depressive thoughts are intertwined with the plot and act as 'backseat drivers' to the novel.

[Chapter Five] [Series Masterlist] [Masterlist]

Curled up in a chair with a blanket laid over her, Rosemary sipped at her tea, not caring if it burned her tongue and throat because at least she would be warm. Also, if she was going to eat fish, she didn't want any taste buds.

Once Mrs. Beaver was comfortable in the other chair, she turned to Rosemary. "Ask away."

Rosemary had no idea where to start. She was sure she was still in shock, and she was definitely delirious. A beaver was talking for God's sake.

"Are you sure I'm not dead?"

Mrs. Beaver nodded once, sure of herself. "Positive, my dear. You're in Narnia. Why do you believe you're dead?"

Rosemary couldn't immediately bring herself to answer Mrs. Beaver's question. She had no idea her suicide attempt would fail so she was absolutely humiliated by the prospect of failing at the one thing she had been so determined to do. If only Daniel could see her now.

"I jumped," was all she said. Mrs. Beaver clearly understood what the two words meant by the quiet 'oh' that slipped past her lips. "Thank you for saving me though. I know I didn't want to be saved, but I appreciate the gesture all the same."

Mrs. Beaver perked up at that and smiled softly at the Bennett girl. "No disrespect, but even if I did know, I still would've saved you. I haven't known you long but I can already tell that you are a lovely young lady. Someone that I would be proud to call my daughter."

The tears fell suddenly and Rosemary's lower lip wobbled. Mrs. Beaver had no idea how much her words meant to Rosemary. It was her mother's avoidance and ignoring act that had pushed Rosemary to jump off that cliff so even though she hadn't known Mrs. Beaver long, she felt more loved by Mrs. Beaver in that moment than she had in a long time.

"Thank you," Rosemary whispered. "That means a lot."

Mrs. Beaver reached over and patted Rosemary's hand. "Of course my dear. Glad I could make you feel a little better."

Wanting to stop crying and move on from the subject, Rosemary asked another question. "You said we are in Narnia but...I have no idea what or where that is. I don't recall it being on any maps."

"I can't really describe it - Aslan would be the best option - but Narnia isn't on your maps because it belongs to a whole other world."

"How did I get here then? I jumped off a cliff in England and somehow I end up in a completely different world?"

"That is something I don't have the answer to. I wish I did so I could tell you, but I don't. But I do know that Narnia has a will of its own, and if it needs something, it will get that something. I believe that when you jumped off the cliff and into the water below, you were somehow transported to Narnia and came in through the Western River. That's where I found you."

"How do I get back to England?"

"That's a question for Aslan, whom we can try and get you to. Beaver will know more about that so you can ask him when he returns."

"Thank you," Rosemary smiled gratefully over the brim of her cup. "I understand this is a whole other world - still working on the whole believing part - but does it follow a different seasonal pattern? I mean, it's late summer in...my world, but it's winter here."

"Oh, it's been winter for the past hundred years in Narnia. Ever since the White Witch began ruling Narnia. She calls herself the Queen of Narnia but that's just rubbish. Narnia is only ever right and good when a child of Adam and/or Eve is on the throne. Not some stuck up witch."

Rosemary shouldn't have been surprised by the notion of magic in this other world - she was having tea with a talking beaver for Heaven's sake - but she was. The shock obviously hadn't worn off yet.

Rosemary wasn't sure what to say to that. "Well, at least your dam is nice and toasty."

"Yes. I suspect Beaver misses the warm weather so he makes it dreadfully hot in here." Mrs. Beaver made a show of waving her hand like a fan in hopes of cooling herself down and Rosemary giggled.

"Considering I almost froze out there, the blistering heat in here doesn't seem too bad."

"And would you look at that - Beaver's actually helpful for something." That made Rosemary laugh and she had to put her empty cup down before she dropped it. Who knew that some new company would lighten her spirits so much so quickly?

Over the next couple of hours, Mrs. Beaver made a lot of tea for the two of them and she entertained Rosemary with stories of Narnia - both good and bad. She told Rosemary tales that had been passed down over the generations about all sorts of things - Aslan the Lion, dancing trees, mermaids, and more.

By the time the sun had finally disappeared behind the towering trees and the sky began to darken, Mrs. Beaver had begun to pace. "He should've been back an hour ago. Ugh, he's probably out messing around with Badger. They always lose track of time when they're together. Sometimes, I think he's more married to Badger instead of me."

Rosemary recalled playing with Daniel before he left for war. They always lost track of time when they were doing something together - whether it was reading or playing hide-and-seek. "I'm sure that's it Mrs. Beaver. My brother and I were a lot like that too."

The lady beaver paused at the new information. All night, Rosemary had been avoiding talking about her life - aside from mentioning that in her world, everyone was at war. The war to end all wars, Rosemary had called it. But before Mrs. Beaver could ask Rosemary about her brother, she heard voices outside and bristled. "That better be Beaver."

Marching outside, Mrs. Beaver called out, "Beaver, is that you? I've been worried sick! If I find out you've been out with Badger again, I-" Mrs. Beaver lost her voice as not only her husband came into view, but four children. Four human children. Two sons of Adam and two daughters of Eve dressed in oversized fur coats trailed after her husband, marveling at the dam. "Those aren't badgers."

"Hello, Darling," Beaver kissed his wife on the cheek but she barely payed attention, moving closer to the four children.

"Oh, I never though I would live to see this day! And now not only Rosemary but you as well!" Quickly changing gears, she swatted her husband on the shoulder before smoothing herself down. "Look at my fur! You couldn't give me ten minutes warning?"

"I'd have given you a week if I thought it would've helped," Beaver teased, snickering behind his paws. Laughter bubbled up in Lucy and she let it loose behind her sleeve. Peter smiled briefly. His mother and father used to tease each other like that before his father went off to war.

"Oh, come inside, and we'll see if we can't get you some food. And there's some civilized company inside so that should cheer you lot up."

"Company?" Beaver gawked, trailing after his wife. "We never have company."

"And yet, now we have two parties. And they're all human!"

"There are other humans here?" Lucy wondered, following after Susan. "Mr. Tumnus made it sound like there weren't any other humans here."

"There aren't - oh, excuse the mess. Rosemary was brought here just like you four were. Except, well, her journey was a little wetter."

Inside, Rosemary had heard the entire conversation - thin walls in a dam, she supposed - and had gotten up from her chair to make some more tea. There was a small hole in the ice by the wall that acted as both the water supply and the way in and out of the water for the Beavers. She dipped the kettle into the water and then moved over to the stove to turn it on. After pulling out as many mugs as there were, she went back to the chair she had spent the last few hours in and pulled the blanket over her shoulders.

By the time the Beavers and Pevensies entered the home, she was already fast asleep.

[Chapter Five] [Series Masterlist] [Masterlist]

#narnia #the chronicles of narnia #peter pevensie #edmund pevensie #susan pevensie #william moseley #peter pevensie imagine #peter pevensie fanfiction #peter pevensie x oc #peter pevensie x fem!oc #the lion the witch and the wardrobe #love #romance #adventure #fantasy #chronicles of narnia

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mlinkwell · 5 years ago

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When You’re Older

Request: hmm nct jaehyun or jisung angst where they are your sibling and they find out that you have been hiding something from your parents?? (Like bullying or blackmailing or a bad test score, etc.)

Pairing: Jisung (Park Jisung) x Reader (fem) [siblings]; Taeyong (Lee Taeyong) x Reader [couple]

Genre: Angst(ish maybe idk not really), lil fluff

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: slight sexual content, swearing, lil bb jisung, mostly conversation

This is honestly a little more awkward than angst, so I’m sorry if this isn’t what you thought would come from this request!

Your cheeks were still flushed with shame and embarrassment as the bell rang. You shoved your folder down into your bookbag and raced for the door. You kept your eyes straight ahead, not trying to accidentally strike up a conversation with any of your schoolmates. You made it out the front doors of the school in record time, trying to fish your headphones out of your bag as you walked across the school yard.

“Hey!”

You knew it was directed at you, but some very upset part of your brain was telling you to keep walking and act like you didn’t hear him, so that’s exactly what you did.

“Hey, baby!” This time, Taeyong was right behind you, and you felt his hand on your shoulder right after the words reached your ears. Still, you didn’t respond. Taeyong used the hand on your shoulder to move himself around and in front of your body, forcing you to stop. You could hear the confusion and hurt in his voice as he asked, “Did I do something?”

Without a word, you pulled your folder out of your bag and opened it up. You took out the stapled packet on top and shoved it into Taeyong’s chest. He caught the papers before they fell down his body and turned him so he could figure out the problem. His eyes found the red ink number on the top right corner of the front page and immediately softened.

“Baby, it’s okay,” he said, reaching out to touch your face. You slapped his hand away lightly, causing the confusion to return to his eyes. “Why are you so upset?”

“This is the second time,” you huffed.

“Second time for what?” Tayeong asked. You looked at him with your jaw clenched in rage.

“The second time you were so desperate to fuck me that I couldn’t focus on studying,” you shot back, full-on pouting at this point. Taeyong glanced around to make sure that no one passing by heard your outburst, causing you to snap, “Oh, so our sex life can ruin my academic reputation with Mrs. Jung but not your social reputation?”

“No, no, no,” he quickly tried to defend the small action. “That’s not at all what I meant.”

“I bet you don’t even remember,” you pouted, crossing your arms over your chest and looking down.

“Oh,” Taeyong began. “I definitely remember.”

You rolled your eyes and moved to walk around and away from your smirking boyfriend.

“Wait, no.” He placed his arms on your shoulders to hold you still. “Okay, that was a bad joke. I’m sorry, and I’m sorry I kept you from studying. Let me make it up to you, please, baby?”

You sighed heavily, beginning to feel terrible for being such a brat when Taeyong was trying to be so helpful. You looked up into his deep, sparkling eyes, and said, “Jisung is going home with a friend. We can go to my place.”

Knowing that was the closest to an apology acceptance he was going to get for a while, Taeyong accepted your roundabout “yes” and took your hand to walk you to your cars.

Your home was empty when you arrived. With parents at work and Jisung gone for the afternoon, you had the house to yourselves.

“Let’s see about this test, okay, baby?” He said softly, rubbing your shoulders as he slid your backpack straps off your arms.

“Okay,” you mumbled back, still more than upset about the low grade. “Be right back.”

You moved into the kitchen as Taeyong settled down with your backpack. When you came back to the couch with two bottles of water in hand, you found your boyfriend sitting up and using the coffee table as a desk. Your forsaken exam was on top of your folder, and you laptop was open to your student page. Taeyong had pulled up your grades for Mrs. Jung’s class.

“C’mere,” he said, holding a hand out to you, you took it, placing his bottle of water on the coffee table as you got comfortable in his lap. “The grade wasn’t bad enough to ruin your overall average. You still have an A, and plenty of assignments left to raise it even more. Plus, Mrs. Jung still loves you, and I know she’d give you some extra credit if you asked for it.”

“Maybe so,” you mumbled, curling up in his lap.

“Still mad at me?” He asked, tilting your chin up towards him. You shook your head and leaned in to kiss him. He hummed in satisfaction before asking, “So, how are you going to tell your parents?”

“The same way I told them about you,” you responded as you swung one your legs over Taeyong’s lap, straddling him. “I’m not.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from moaning. Not when Taeyong was holding you so close to his bare chest as his lips were on your neck. Your hips were grinding against his lap. Your moans were getting louder. They were more than likely the reason why you didn’t hear the door open - why you didn’t pull your dishevelled body off of your boyfriend until the two of you heard a small voice coming from the direction of the front door.

“Noona?” Jisung called, his voice followed by the front door closing. “Are you home? Whose car is outside?”

“Shit,” you hissed as you pushed yourself off of Tayeong’s lap, bending down to pick up his shirt and throw it at him. He quickly began buttoning up his shirt you tried to straighten out your own uniform.

“Noona?” Jisung’s voice was loud and clear as he walked in the house. Taeyong placed a throw pillow in his lap, trying to seem as casual as possible. You quickly got back on the couch, a respectful distance between you and Taeyong, and threw one of your textbooks between you.

“In the living room!” You called, holding eye contact with a confused looking Taeyong.

“Hey, noona,” Jisung said as he walked in the room. He had already changed out of his uniform and had his backpack swung across one shoulder. “Whose car is - oh. Hi.”

You looked over at Jisung, who had just finished a small, sheepish bow to Taeyong. Your little brother looked more confused than your boyfriend had moments ago.

“You must be Jisung,” Taeyong said, standing and bowing back to Jisung, which you admittedly found very cute. “I’m Taeyong. That’s my car outside.”

“Why aren’t you at Chenle’s, Jisungie?” You asked.

“Chenle’s mom said he had too much homework due tomorrow to have everyone over tonight,” Jisung explained as he approached the couch.

Jisung looked down at the coffee table, his eyes landing on your test papers. You looked at him, registering where his eyes had fallen too far after he registered the number written in red. You stood up, blocking Jisung from the papers on the table. “Hey, bud, go upstairs and start on your homework, okay? I’ll come up with some snacks in a minute.”

Jisung looked up, glancing between you and Taeyong before nodding sheepishly and saying, “Okay. It was nice to meet you, Taeyong.”

“You, too,” Taeyong smiled at him. Jisung glanced at the two of you once more before turning and making his way up the stairs. You let a long sigh and ran a hand through your messy hair, muttering swears and “I can’t believe he caught us” under your breath. Taeyong rested his hands on your shoulders, massaging his fingertips into your skin.

“You’re okay,” He whispered into your ear. You nodded slowly. He knew that meant you weren’t. He placed a kiss against your neck. “You’re fine, baby. You’re fine. I’m gonna go, okay?”

“Thank you,” you said softly. Taeyong always knew what you needed. “I’ll call you after I do some damage control.”

Your heart was racing as you made it up the stairs. You had a bag of snacks in one hand, sweat gathering in your palms. You didn’t really have much of a plan, but you knew you had to do something, and most certainly had to do it before your parents got home from work.

You slipped into your room and changed into more comfortable clothing before taking your bag of snacks down the hall to Jisung. You knocked on his door lightly before coming in. Jisung looked frazzled by your entrance. He was sat on his bed, phone in hand. His backpack was on the floor, resting next to his nightstand.

“I didn’t think you’d be up so fast,” Jisung said quickly and honestly, “I haven’t started my homework yet.”

“It’s okay,” you chuckled lightly. You smiled at him and held up the bag of snacks. You pulled his desk chair up to the side of his bed and tossed him a bottle of water. You dumped the bag out on the bed between the two of you, allowing Jisung to pick what he wanted.

“Did Taeyong leave?” He asked as he noticed you were alone. You nodded and he repeated the action in response. He grabbed a bag of chips and opened them in the silence.

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, no sound emitted from either of you other than that of crunching chips and rice cakes. You twisted the cap off of your water, taking a big gulp in the hopes of calming your nerves. You held the bottle tight, twisted the cap back with an intense focus and sweaty hands.

You moved your chair a little closer to bed, took a breath, and spoke, “Hey, Jisungie?”

“Yeah?” He responded awkwardly. He looked up at you, a strange look washing over his young face. He seemed unsure of whether or not his dark brown eyes should meet yours, and his lips were pressed together nervously.

“I need to talk to you about something, bud,” you said.

“I thought so,” Jisung said quietly, your words seeming to confirm a fear of his. You smiled weakly at him, somewhat surprised by his response, but still unsure of where to start.

“You’re not in trouble,” you assured him. He looked slightly relieved by your statement, but the anxious look remained. You asked him, hoping starting with the smaller issue would be easier, “Did you see my test when we were downstairs?”

Jisung looked down at his chip bag as he nodded.

“Are you afraid that Mom and Dad will be mad at you?” He asked, glancing up at you.

“Well,” you began shifting in your seat, “my average is still okay, so I think maybe it’s best if we don’t tell them.”

“You want me to lie to Mom and Dad?” Jisung looked shocked. You winced slightly.

“No, not lie,” you tried to explain. “Just, just don’t tell them. Keep it a secret, okay?”

“But what if they ask?” He questioned. You felt terrible. Your poor baby brother was probably panicking more and more by the second.

“I don’t think they’ll ask you about my grades, Jisungie,” you pointed out.

“Are you going to lie if they ask you?”

“I don’t even think they knew about this particular test in the first place.”

“But what if they ask you about school in general?”

“Then I’ll tell them that school is going fine,” you told him confidently. “Because it is. It’s just one bad grade.”

You fought back a gulp, realizing you just kind of lied to your little brother. But you held your eye contact with Jisung, waiting for some kind of reaction, hoping for a vow to do as you’d asked.

Deep inside, you could feel your heart breaking. You hated dragging Jisung into your secrets, but your parents absolutely could not find out about your boyfriend or your bad grades from your little brother. It’s not that you think Jisung will tell them to defy you or get you in deep shit with your parents on purpose. Jisung was a good sibling. He was sweet, and he was honest - exceptionally honest, especially when he was nervous. He proved that by ratting himself out for not starting his homework right away.

“Can I ask you something?” He finally looked up at you, as if he gained just enough confidence to make himself ask that.

“You can always ask me whatever you want,” you answered with an encouraging nod.

“If school is going okay, why did you make a bad grade?”

“Well,” you couldn’t even count the number of times you started your explanations to him with that one, time-gathering word, “To be honest, I just didn’t study for it the way I should have.”

“But you always make sure to study,” he responded.

“I usually do,” you reaffirmed, “but sometimes, you get distracted, especially if you study with some of your friends.”

“Do you and Taeyong study together?” He asked.

“We do.” You said. “We do that a lot.”

“Is Taeyong your friend or your boyfriend?” He asked, taking you by surprise. You sighed.

“He’s my boyfriend,” you answered. Jisung kept his eyes fixed somewhere on the bed.

“I saw him kiss you earlier,” he said softly and slightly embarrassed. You cheeks heated up immediately, fear shooting through every nerve of your body.

“When?” You asked, terrified that you brother had seen you and Taeyong doing less than appropriate things on the couch when he got home.

“When you told me come upstairs,” he said, immediately calming you. “I went to the bathroom before I went to my room. I didn’t mean to look. I just saw you from the stairs.”

“Okay. It’s okay. I’m not mad at you,” you clutched a small pillow on the bed, bringing it to your chest. Jisung followed the movement of the pillow, looking back up at you after a moment. You looked your little brother in the eyes before saying, “Jisung, I need you to promise me that that stays between us, okay?”

“You’re not supposed to kiss Taeyong?” He asked, ever so innocent. His widened before he corrected his question. “You’re not allowed to be the house with him alone, are you? Mom and Dad would be really mad.”

“Honestly?” You responded, gaining Jisung’s full, serious attention, “Mom and Dad don’t know that Taeyong and I are dating.”

“Why not?” He asked, obviously surprised by your answer.

“I just haven’t found the right time to tell them,” you responded, which was completely true. Your parents were strict, and you knew they would have preferred to meet - and probably interrogate - Taeyong before you actually started dating, like they’d done with past interests. Now you were already in deep, and you didn’t know how to tell your parents about a relationship they didn’t know was blooming.

“Do you think they’ll like him?” Jisung asked, his head moving slightly to one side.

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly.

“Is he not a good person?” He asked, making you chuckle lightly.

“No. Taeyong is a very good person,” you assured him.

“Then why wouldn’t they like him?” He persisted.

“It’s more complicated than that, Jisungie,” you explained.

“How so?” You paused, unsure of how to explain teenage relationships to someone who was barely a teenager themselves.

“Well,” you said, pausing once more and squeezing the pillow, still trying to find the right words, “for starters, I was studying with Taeyong when I got too distracted and then I got that bad grade. That’s why they can’t know about the test, okay? It’s just too many things at once and they would be really, really upset with me, and I don’t want them to think Taeyong is bad for me because he distracted me.”

“How did he distract you?”

You froze, then leaned down to grab your water bottle.

“I, I don’t remember what started it,” you lied, focusing on the drink instead of Jisung. “We just did. Sometimes, when you’re with your boyfriend or girlfriend, you just want to focus on them and not your school work. Sometimes, it’s harder than it sounds to be responsible. You’ll understand when you’re older.”

“Do you two have sex?” You choked on your water out of surprise.

“Jisung!” You coughed out the exclamation.

“You said I could ask you anything!”

“How do you even know what that means?”

“Jaemin-hyung said that-”

“Maybe don’t listen to everything that Jaemin says,” you interrupted, looking at him sternly, the shock of your baby brother asking you that still coursing through you. “You’re too young to know about that. It’s adult stuff.”

“But you know what it is,” Jisung said, “and you’re not an adult.”

“I’m a little closer to an adult than you,” you argued, “and sometimes teenagers want to act like they’re adults. You’ll understand when you’re older.”

“Why do you keep saying that?” He asked. “That I’ll understand when I’m older?”

“Because it’s true,” you told him, “and you’re lucky you have an older sibling you can help explain those things to you. Mom and Dad doing it would be awkward. When you’re older, you’ll figure out that a lot of daughters are afraid that boys are trying to do adult things with them, and they’ll be cautious of you even if you’re a good guy.”

The sound of a car door sounded through Jisung’s window. It was closely followed by the beep of the vehicle being locked. One of your parents was home.

“Noona,” Jisung spoke, bringing your attention back to him. He kept your eye contact for the first time since things got serious. “I won’t tell Mom and Dad about your test.”

“Thanks, Jisungie,” you said, ruffling his hair.

“But only if you tell them about Taeyong,” he wagered. You cocked an eyebrow at him as you moved your hand from his hair, and he continued, “I think hiding it makes it look bad, and I don’t think Taeyong’s bad. And, when I’m older, I think I’d be upset if my girlfriend didn’t want to tell her parents about me.”

Your heart sunk. It took a kid to make you realize that you had never asked Taeyong how hiding your relationship from your parents made him feel. You’d never even stopped to think about it. You felt the heat of guilt from your selfish thinking and actions rush through you, and you moved to ruffle Jisung’s hair one more time.

“Okay,” you agreed. “That sounds fair.”

“Good,” he said, scrunching his nose as he tried to move away from your hand and making you laugh.

“I love you, Jisungie,” you told him.

“I love you, too, Noona,” he grinned up at you.

You turned to leave his room, your tear ducts threatening to spill over. You would have to wait for both of your parents to get home before you had the chance to talk to them. In the meantime, however, you knew what you needed to do. You wiped a tear from your eye as you closed the door to your own bedroom. Once inside, you grabbed some tissues and settled on the bed. You grabbed your phone and took a deep breath before dialing Taeyong’s number.

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sennokami · 5 years ago

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parallelism - chapter 6

ao3

The first time it happened, Mito passed it off as a fluke. He’d needed advice and she was the only married person he knew who was close to his position. The conversation had been stilted but civil, and once it was done, Mito sighed in relief and let herself forget it happened. That was what she told herself.

Then he came back a second time, this time to drop off a bag of oranges. Mito had been alone in the house practicing her calligraphy and Madara was there, knocking on her door, holding up oranges when she answered. Bought too many, was his excuse. Doubtful and bewildered, she accepted his oranges. She ate them alone. They’d been perfectly ripe.

The third time, he came at night and his offering was sake. They sat on the porch and talked about politics in the capital while not looking each other in the face. He left once they exhausted the topic, leaving only ash from his pipe.

Mito, despite her misgivings, was curious. It was her natural way to be curious. Uzumaki genes, her father always said. They were all born with a double dose of nosiness.

It wasn’t like she forgot how their first meeting went; from the second they clapped eyes on each other, Madara had glared at her with so much hatred that she’d went to bed that night with a warding seal drawn on her wrist. After that meeting, they avoided each other until they found an equilibrium where they never saw each other except from a respectable distance. Now, he was suddenly trampling all over that armistice.

From what Mito could tell, there was a pattern to his visits. He always came unarmed, for starters. He always brought something. And he never came by when Hashirama or Tobirama were nearby. It didn’t make them friends, but Mito could see an olive branch when it was this obvious.

It was nearly midnight when she heard that telltale knock. Mito didn’t get up immediately, spending her time finishing her brush stroke, and he didn’t knock again. Only when she was satisfied with her seal did she rise and open the screen door for him.

Madara held up a bottle. “Plum wine.”

“I have cups.” Mito brought them out and Madara uncorked the wine and poured for both of them. They sat down on her porch an arm’s length apart.

The wine was good, at least. Mito didn’t hide her blatant examination of him while Madara steadfastly stared straight ahead, his mouth thinned and – shit, she was tired of whatever this was. Mito liked to think that she was patient but she wasn’t ever-lasting.

“What I don’t understand is why the hell you’re doing this.”

Madara stared at the pond. Hashirama had dug it out himself, saying now you won’t ever be far from the water, haha, and she’d laughed along with him. The pond was small, stocked with itty-bitty fish, and nothing like the raging whirlpools of her home. His expression was furrowed as if to prove that he really was concentrating on the moon’s reflection.

“You’re going to have to answer me at some point. Or else this can end now.”

Madara looked up at her, clearly annoyed that she wasn’t a member of Hashirama’s school of practice where men got to brood in silence and say one-word replies. “I’m trying to be better,” he grunted reluctantly. “To you.”

Mito arched a brow.

“You’re Hashirama’s wife,” he said. “And I… I am Hashirama’s friend.”

She wasn’t very impressed by the tacit confession that he would’ve continued to be an ass if she wasn’t married to Hashirama, but she wasn’t really looking for more either. She shrugged. “Alright.”

Madara cleared his throat. Oh. He was going to keep going. “And I am sorry for being rude. When we met.”

He really made simple conversation feel like pulling teeth. Mito considered taking the bottle and just draining it. “I don’t accept.”

Madara’s head whipped up. “What?” he said incredulously.

“I don’t accept your apology,” she repeated, tilting her tone the way she did when she wanted to mock her siblings without being obvious.

He opened his mouth, clearly about to say something sharp, but caught himself at the last moment. Mito enjoyed his visible struggle. “Why not?” he finally demanded.

Mito snagged the bottle and drank, since she was already dropping her manners anyway. “Because I don’t think you’re being sincere. Because you’re obviously trying to accomplish something. Because I just don’t like you. I don’t know what this is and I don’t really care, but apologies are supposed to be sincere.” Mito drank again. “So if you want me to accept, you’re going to have to try harder.”

Through the corner of her eye, she watched Madara’s jaw set. He was going to storm off now, she predicted, Madara was a proud, impatient man who rarely slowed down long enough to realize that he’d done something wrong, much less apologize. Her flippant disregard for his attempt was going to piss him off enough to make him leave -

Madara twisted towards her. He sat down in actual seiza, back straight, hands flat, and his expression as hard as stone. “I am sorry,” he said forcefully, “for treating you the way I did. It was disgraceful. I was disgraceful. You don’t have to accept this, but I want to at least say it.”

Mito stared. Glanced into the bottle. Madara, apologizing! She’d have to check the sun tomorrow to make sure it still rose in the east. Maybe one of her seals had finally gone haywire as her sister always predicted and Mito was in some parallel dimension. When Madara looked like he might continue, she held up her hand. “That was a little better. But – why?”

“I just told you -”

“I don’t buy it. You and Tobirama fight all the time and he’s Hashirama’s brother.”

Madara’s frown became a scowl. It pulled down his face, made him look older. “Do you think I should apologize to him?”

“You’re ignoring my point.”

“Is it so hard to believe that I might just feel sorry?” Oh, there was some bitterness there. Mito peered at him. Hashirama wasn’t slumping around like a sad flower, so they couldn’t have gotten into a fight recently. But wait – he was moping a lot more. It wasn’t post-argument moping, it was more…

“Your marriage,” she said, nodding firmly. Yes, Hashirama’s moping was more… existential. He only got that way when he met a problem that couldn’t be solved by smiling – or by strength. Of all the powers in the world to drive him into that state of mind, she could name only one. And he was getting married very soon. “Let me guess – this you turning over a new leaf? Become a new man for your bride?”

Madara’s expression flickered. He hid it impressively fast but Mito grew up on the ocean. She knew something about mercurial forces.

“The village… has to unify, if it wants to survive past this stage. And personal grievances must be set aside. It wasn’t the marriage itself, but it has. Made me think.”

Her father used to say that marriage always changed men. Some of them really shaped up, became actual adults that could be trusted alone with a seal matrix. Or they just regressed and became boys with a mother they were allowed to have sex with. Out of them, there was that small handful who looked like they’d rather be anywhere but there, hiding winces when they looked at their wives.

Mito dropped from her porch. “Spar with me.”

She could feel Madara’s stare burning a hole in her back. “What?”

“You said you wanted to apologize, right? Well, this is your chance. I was always curious, with your reputation and all, about what’d be like to fight you. So. Let’s go.”

“Here?” She heard Madara getting up. “Now? It’s not -”

Mito looked over her shoulder. No matter how reluctant his words were, she could read his body like a book. He was tense as a bowstring. “Please. I’ve always wanted to hit you.”

She’d spent all this time wondering why he kept looking anywhere else but her. No matter how much Madara tried to look submissive, no matter how much he apologized, he always looked in a different direction when he did it. Now, though, he was finally meeting her eyes and they told her all the truths his mouth wouldn’t.

He was angry. Raze the land, salt the earth angry. That sort of rage couldn’t be put out by apologies and gifts. No matter what he said, he came here looking for only one thing and Mito was done and tired of beating around the bush.

Madara snorted. The moon hit his face when he hopped off the porch, bringing out the blue of his hair. “Funny. I could say the same.”

Mito had just enough time to bring her arm up to block his overhead axe kick. It rattled her down to the bone. She slammed her knee up, but he caught it and twisted. Mito followed the motion, her heel flying and missing when he bent backward.

She begrudgingly had to admit that he earned every bit of his reputation. Madara fought beautifully. Like he’s dancing, was what Hashirama used to say, back when they were still at war. Did you see? Not a single motion wasted.

He drove his elbow into her shoulder. Mito punched him in the ribs. Neither of them used chakra as they fought. They said nothing. He kicked out her knee. She clawed his face on the way down. The moon witnessed them fight uncaringly.

Mito grabbed his fist but it was just a feint. He swept low and kicked out her feet. She didn’t collapse, catching herself, but went still when she felt his hand on the back of her neck. One squeeze and he’d crush her spinal cord.

That was fine. Mito hadn’t expected to win anyway. Her hair had come loose from its braid. His yukata was half-open from where she’d grabbed it. They were both breathing hard. She’d hit him several times and she was satisfied with that. He’d be bruised come morning.

“I know you look at him,” she said, still bent. “You’re very obvious.” Madara squeezed warningly. She ignored it. Madara was angry? That was fine. She was just as angry too. “You want to hate me? Go ahead. I would’ve married him anyway.”

She’d been nineteen, the same age as Hashirama. It was a match that made itself, one of Ashina’s daughters for one of Butsuma’s sons. It revitalized their old alliance, preserved their trade agreement, and any new Mokuton users would surely be half-Uzumaki. Mito read the marriage contract herself. It fucking made sense.

She didn’t stop there. “Honestly speaking, I have no idea why you’d get married. It has to be making you miserable. But then again, talking to me has to be making you miserable too. You’re trying to become a better man? Hah.” Mito laughed. Madara let her go. When she looked up, his eyes were bleeding into the Sharingan.

“You don’t even love him,” he accused. He took a step back from her, his hands clenched into fists. She imagined her blood on his white hands. He was probably imagining the same. “Ten years you’ve been married, and you don’t.”

“Cry me a river. I did what I had to do.” Mito stood up and fixed her yukata. She didn’t fix her hair. “You know, I think I get it now, what you’re getting at. You can’t have Hashirama and you can’t blame me like you want to. You can’t blame him either, because he always wanted peace with you. So you’re angry and you have no one to blame but yourself. So what do you do?”

Madara bared his teeth at her. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“That’s right. You man up and punish yourself. How do you do that? By doing the one thing you never, ever wanted to do. You find some poor girl and you find a reason to marry her.”

“Shut up.”

Mito looked into his face. He was a hair away from breaking and they both knew it. She could back down now and he could pretend he wasn’t picturing her dead. They could go back to circling each other.

Mito curled her lip. Fuck no. Enough of the bullshit.

“You probably tell yourself that you’re doing it for a good reason. It’s for the village, or it for making things right. But you’re so shit at it! Even when you’re trying, you just keep breaking things. And you know what? I don’t care! I’m not the one who did this to you. You want to be unhappy? You want to be miserable? Fucking fine, go ahead, and do it the hell alone.”

“Shut up!” He lunged for her. His hands closed around her neck and that was it. Mito activated the seal that she’d prepared years ago after the first time she saw his eyes and the hatred in them. Chains exploded from her back and wrapped around his arms as her hands lit up, the seal matrix growing.

The sharp swell of chakra burned through her pathways and her eyes were being filled with red eyes with spinning wheels but fuck it all; Mito grabbed his stupid hair and kneed him one last time.

Tobirama reacted first. He reached the windows in time to see a swell of chakra from Hashirama’s home. A half-second later, Hashirama smashed through the same window.

The house was untouched but the back garden was ablaze. Hashirama smothered the flames, his chakra pushing away the smoke, and he found them both, Mito and Madara, collapsed in a ring of blackened grass.

“It wasn’t an ambush.” Tobirama sat down across from his brother, his arms crossed. Neither of them had slept a wink in the past forty-eight hours. “There was a bottle. Cups. They must’ve been already sitting together before they fought.”

Hashirama didn’t say anything. He’d spent the most of the last twelve hours assuring every clan in the village that it hadn’t been an attack, or the start of a civil war. The Uchiha were livid. The Uzumaki even worse.

“As far as I can tell, Mito used a seal on him. It seems to be a chakra suppressant. It explains why he’s still sleeping.”

Hashirama blinked hard. He never liked staying up but he had before, staying awake for days and days to fight or run or heal, and he’d never felt this way back then. Before, it’d been sleeplessness out of necessity, born from too much adrenaline. Now, he was so tired that he couldn’t sleep.

“Mito’s case is easier. Her chakra pathways show clear signs of disturbance. Probably he used the Sharingan on her just before she knocked him out. It’s all just recovery now.”

Tobirama was waiting for him to speak. Hashirama flexed his fingers and looked for the right words, but for the first time in his life, he was coming up empty. When he didn’t say anything for a long time, Tobirama sighed and put his hand on his shoulder.

“You don’t have to do anything right now,” his little brother said. “Just. Go sleep, anija. I’ll take care of this.”

Hashirama let Tobirama guide him to the little cot in the corner. He laid him down, brushed his hair back, and tucked him in, and Hashirama closed his eyes and tried to sleep. The hours squeezed on by. He didn’t sleep. Below the earth, he felt deep roots groan.

Morning came in a shiver of gold, dawn’s silence split by birdsong, and he sat by Mito’s bedside, fresh flowers in the vase on her nightstand. Morning glories. They were her favorites. He’d once asked her why and she’d smiled her slow and knowing smile.

Because they’re blue like the ocean. And because they don’t last very long.

Mito’s face was peaceful in her sleep. She never had dreams. They’d been one of the first things she got rid of after learning how to tattoo seals on herself. She’d offered the same to Hashirama and he’d refused. It made his nights a lot less peaceful but that was a small price to pay to never forget.

Madara used genjutsu on her. From what the medics who’d already treated her could tell, it was a strong one to knock her out this long. Her brain activity had spiked abnormally, and then went low. Resting. They’d let her sleep, just to make sure the genjutsu’s aftershocks wore off, and now she was due to wake up.

Hashirama brushed his thumb over her smooth brow. Green chakra seeped from his hand into her head, soothing the aftermath of looking into the Sharingan. A minute passed. Her eyes fluttered open.

Mito stared at him for a few seconds, her pupils focusing, then she frowned a little. Blinked hard. “Hashirama.” She didn’t sound surprised.

“Good morning.”

“Ugh.”

She sat up with a grunt, ignored his attempt to make her lay back down, and grabbed the glass of water that he’d prepared. She drained it quickly, then wiped her mouth. Hashirama watched to see if there was an unsteadiness, but she seemed to be holding out. Uzumaki were built tough. When he offered her the hair tie he was holding, she bent her head to let him tie her hair. She’d always hated having hair in her face.

Hashirama swept her hair up into a bun, careful to not pull out any knots. “How’re you feeling?”

“Damn awful.”

“Thought so. You’re cursing a lot more.”

“Where is he?”

Hashirama hesitated. “In bed, same as you. He hasn’t woke up yet.”

“Huh.”

She didn’t look sorry. Hashirama couldn’t bring himself to be surprised. The years taught him a few things about his wife; Mito didn’t intend to regret a single thing she did, ever. Push her into a corner and she’d go down hitting everything she could reach. It was maybe why she and Madara got along so poorly. They were very similar people when it came down to it.

“Will you tell me what happened?” he asked gently. Technically, you weren’t supposed to push a genjutsu victim right after they woke up. It could trigger a resurgence. Hashirama, however, wasn’t feeling patient.

He wasn’t dumb. Or blind. Madara had always disliked Mito and she’d returned the favor. He’d always thought about trying to do something about it – make them spend time together, make them see how similar they were – but he’d just never had the time. The opportunity. Hashirama often felt like a little string holding together a team of raging horses that wanted nothing more than to run away from each other. It was always like this: he pulled the village together and Madara and Tobirama would start fighting. He’d paid them attention and Mito would be angry. He spent time with his wife and the village was on fire all over again. It was never-ending, a vicious cycle where all the important things in his life clashed. And he was just – he was just so damn tired of it. Was it too much to ask, for all the people in his life to just get along?

“Mito, can you actually tell me what happened?”

“Madara and I had a disagreement. So I finished it. We’re finally even now.”

“That doesn’t tell me anything.”

Mito gave him a shrewd look. It was one of the things that Hashirama hated most, because all three of them, Mito, Tobirama, Madara, all of them, had the aggravating habit of thinking too hard and saying too little, right up until they reached critical.

“You wanna know why?” Mito handed him the glass. Hashirama went to the sink to refill it. “Isn’t it obvious by now? It’s always the same thing with him.”

“What is that?”

“You, obviously.”

Hashirama paused. The glass overfilled. Spilled over. He stared at the water running over his hand, thinking, me, me, Madara was talking about me, until he blinked and realized he should probably stop wasting water. He handed the wet glass back to her. He tried to keep his face neutral but from the looks of it, he probably was failing.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” she demanded.

“I don’t know what to say.”

Look. It wasn’t – it wasn’t like he was ignoring it, or her. What he had with Madara, what they were doing with each other – it was complicated. Difficult. He himself didn’t know what he was doing half the time. All he knew was that he just. Cared. He cared a lot. He wanted to keep Madara close and Madara sometimes didn’t stay close and that made it even more complicated. Right now, though, what he did know was that he couldn’t sit down and spill his guts to Mito, because you couldn’t just tell your wife that your best friend getting married made you unspeakably jealous.

“God, Hashirama. Enough.” Mito put the glass down firmly. “You know what? I’m going to go say this now. Neither of us are stupid. The man’s obsessed with you. He’s always been.”

“It’s not obsession,” he protested, but Mito wasn’t having it. She leveled her finger at him. “You’re not helping either,” she said, low and accusing. Hashirama blinked, not expecting her to turn on him too.

MIto forged on. “I’ve been thinking about this – all of this. Where the hell did it start?” She began to tick off her fingers. “One, it starts with you two having another damn fight. Then, two, the Hyuuga come and Madara gets engaged to one of them.”

Hashirama bit the inside of his cheek, familiar jealousy raising its head inside his chest again.

“Three, you two stop fighting, but not really, because Madara just starts ignoring you instead. And you? You mope.” She made it sound like a heinous crime.

He wanted to defend himself, but he couldn’t really find the words to. She was right. Mito usually tended to be. Fighting with Madara always made him queasy inside. Everything just felt worse when Madara was angry at him.

“He’s an idiot, but you know what? So are you. Both of you are just – just so damn stupid. You started this whole thing because you couldn’t leave him damn well alone and now he’s sulking about what that means, and it makes sense now, why you two fought for years after your fathers died.”

Hashirama’s head whipped up at the same time the floorboards under his foot cracked. He reigned himself in just in time before he did more damage, but the snap of wood seemed to echo. Don’t get angry, he told himself. She’s frustrated too. And she’s recovering from genjutsu. Aggression is common.

Mito didn’t even flinch. She’d never flinched when Hashirama’s chakra flared. It’d been part of the reason why Hashirama began to really like her back then. But this was still a low blow. She wasn’t involved. She couldn’t bring up certain things.

“You’re going to stress yourself,” he said. “Your mind was put under a lot of pressure during the genjutsu, you need to rest -”

He jumped when Mito slammed the glass again. It cracked. “Don’t you dare start with the medical spiel,” she snapped. “I watched Uzushio burn for seventy-two hours. I had time to think and you’re going to let me finish. Back then, I thought Madara was being unreasonable! I thought that he was the one who needed to back off! But no - you're the same. You know what this is? Both of you, pissing and moaning because you can’t stand being replaced.”

Hashirama rocked back, as if slapped. Replaced? He wasn’t doing anything like that.

He was just – worried. He was concerned. He wanted the best for Madara, that was all, he wanted him to find someone he could actually be happy with. He wanted him to be actually understood. Madara, more than anything, needed that. Someone who saw past his harsh face, who wasn’t afraid of his temper; someone who knew how kind he was, how good he could be, someone who’d feel every bit of admiration and reverence Hashirama felt looking at him.

“I live with you, Hashirama.” Mito swung her feet out and stood up. She had to grab the wall, but she raised her hand when Hashirama rose to help. “You should see your face whenever his marriage comes up. You’re always talking about Madara finding someone who’ll understand him, but really, you just want him to always come to you.”

He felt like he was balancing on the edge of an epiphany. One a long time coming.

“Mito, I -”

I – what? What was he trying to say? Somehow, I’m married to you was the only thing that came to mind. It was inane, it was off-topic, but it felt like he should be telling her that, telling himself that. They were married. He was her husband. He couldn’t afford to let himself think about what she was saying. But Mito was sharp. Had always been sharp. She could always see right through him, just like Madara, and damn it, she was right.

Hashirama remembered being nineteen and scared shitless. He remembered the girl sitting in front of him, equally scared. He didn’t know her and he didn’t want to marry her, but doing it had been a little easier if he kept thinking about all the ways she was just like Madara.

Mito stopped in front of him. He blinked. When had she gotten there?

She put her hand on his shoulder and held on tightly. “Hashirama,” she said, her voice firm, “for all our sakes, I think you’re going to have to decide what the hell you want.”

“... you,” he said lamely. It came out rehearsed.

“I think we’re a little too old for that now,” she said, not unkindly. “Madara was right about one thing. We’ve been married ten years, and we don’t even have a kid to show for it.”

She was still in the papery little hospital gown and her face was pale, but she held herself proudly, chin jutted out. He remembered what he’d thought earlier: Uzumaki were built tough. And he’d been wrong, because she was involved. She probably had been since the second she came into his family. And instead of drowning in that storm, she’d waded right through, her head held high. Of course. She was from Uzushio. She grew up swimming inside of whirlpools.

Mito left him there, like he was the patient and she was his doctor.

#hashimada #hashirama #madara #mito #naruto #fanfic #parallelism

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cheekymochiiii · 6 years ago

Text

Game Night

Part. 1 ?

✰ Short Tease

✰ Natsu & Lucy Fic

Lucy sat in her bathtub allowing her muscles to relax in the steaming water, the strong scent of vanilla and sugar wafting in the humid air. She sits with her head back and blonde hair swirling like ink in the water around her. The heat of the room causing her to almost forget the stress that she has been under lately.

Her parent’s anniversary is just around the corner and she hasn’t found the courage to tell her friends she isn’t going to be in Magnolia for at least a week. She promised herself she would spend this time with her parents this year. She hadn’t seen them in a long while and her heart always aches for them when this time comes around. Anna had offered to go with her to their graves, but Lucy declined. She didn’t want to bother Anna and take her from her own friends back at Blue Pegasus. Seeing her parents was something she wanted to do alone.

After all, these were her parents. Lucy knows her friends would go for support but the hole in her heart can only be filled by being as close as she can to her parents.

Lucy sighs heavily and sinks deeper into the soothing hot water to where the steaming water is over her ears and she can hear herself breathing. Each thump of her heart echoes in her ears and the outside world is silent.

Suddenly, her bathroom door swings open to reveal Natsu.

“Kyaaaa! Get outta here!” Lucy screams her cheeks fuming red as she covers her bare body under the water. Natsu remains unphased and doesn’t even bother looking away from Lucy’s naked body.

“I called you from your living room and you didn’t answer,” Natsu defends himself.

“That doesn’t mean you come barging in!” Lucy shouts throwing a bar of soap at him, “Get out and I’ll be there in a minute!”

“Alright, geez calm down,” Natsu surrenders and steps out of the bathroom shouting to Happy that he found Lucy.

Lucy grabs a towel and wraps it around herself before opening the door again. Natsu has already made himself comfortable on her bed and Happy is munching on a fish at her low table.

“What did you two need?” Lucy asks walking over to her underwear drawer and starts pawing through the contents, all of them seeming to be too revealing to wear around Natsu all of a sudden.

“We were bored,” Natsu shrugs watching Lucy’s movements as she settles on her set of satin pink pajamas and laced white panties. Natsu adjusts the way he’s sitting as she moves into the bathroom to change. She doesn’t even bother closing the door.

They’ve seen me enough, Lucy thinks.

“What makes you think I’d entertain you two,” Lucy comments as she walks back out combing her long blonde hair. Natsu stares at her pajamas that are much shorter and tighter than Natsu remembers.

He tilts his head to the side, “Is something bothering you Luce?” He asks her wondering why she’s more crabbier than usual.

Lucy stops combing her hair and looks at Natsu, “I’m fine. I’m just tired is all,” she answers the thought of her leaving soon lingering in the back of her mind.

She doesn’t think it’s that big of a deal but she doesn’t want to bring up parents to Natsu and Happy. Natsu would be thinking of Igneel and she doesn’t want him to be sad. Seeing Natsu cry for Igneel like he did broke her heart because she felt powerless. Her best friend was hurting and she couldn’t fix it.

“You sure Lucy?” Happy asks concerned no longer chewing on his fish.

“Lets play a card game,” Lucy suggests changing the subject and grabs a deck of cards and the bottles of saki Cana had gotten Lucy after Cana got back from a mission.

Lucy motions Natsu to join her and Happy at the table as she settles on the floor. Natsu decides to ask questions later and opts to sit across from Lucy.

Lucy starts shuffling the way Cana taught her and Natsu watches in a trance.

“Whoa where’d you learn to shuffle like that?!” Natsu exclaims in amazement as Lucy does a bridge shuffle.

“I play cards with Cana a lot,” Lucy answers blushing as she passes the cards out.

“What kind of cards are these?” Natsu asks looking at the cards that have numbers and different colors. Some have arrows and what looks like a do not enter sign.

“She called it Uno,” Lucy begins and downs her first bottle of saki before launching into the explanation of the game.

“So this game was made to ruin friendships,” Natsu summarizes when Lucy finishes.

Lucy laughs almost too loud thanks to the alcohol Cana gave her, “It’ll be fun!”

“How about whoever loses has to tell a secret,” Natsu suggests giving her a smirk.

Lucy isn’t sure if it’s the alcohol pumping through her system or if it’s her natural curiosity but she agrees. She doesn’t suspect she’ll lose anyway.

• • • 3 hours later • • •

“Natsuuuu who’s, your favooorite person in the whole guild?” Lucy asks leaning on Natsu’s side for support as she looks up at him browns eyes shining.

The card game being long forgotten but the pair had gone to simply asking each other questions.

“Happy, duh,” Natsu answers looking to his best buddy who is currently asleep on Lucy’s bed.

Happy had fallen asleep an hour ago and hasn’t stirred since even though the two Fairy Tail wizards had been more vocal than ever.

“Why isn’t me?” Lucy asks pouting at Natsu her tone a clear indicator of how many drinks she’s had.

“Happy is my best friend and always will be,” Natsu shrugs looking at his bottle of saki that he hasn’t even touched since Lucy opened it for him.

“If yowon’t finish this, then I will since I’m not your favorson,” Lucy slurs as she snatches Natsu’s drink the side of her breasts brushing against his exposed chest. Natsu feels his cheeks flare up and as discreetly as he can he adjusts himself. Lucy doesn’t notice and happily drinks from Natsu’s bottle as she returns to leaning against his side.

“Why were you so bummed out earlier?” Natsu suddenly asks Lucy, who is now making both of them sway from side to side.

“I wasn’t,” she sings as she downs the last of the saki another hiccup escaping her throat. She sets the bottle down and tosses her head onto Natsu’s lap.

“You’re always so warm,” Lucy smiles snuggling close to him, “Natsu, don’t leave me alone again,” Lucy mumbles her hand reaching up to feel the soft tufts of his pink hair, “Why did you leave?” She asks tugging at his hair. She finds herself wondering how his hair can be so soft when it looks so spikey.

“I was on a training mission, I told you that,” Natsu answers unable to look at her as she runs her fingers through his hair. He can feel goosebumps form on his arms, which is something that has never happened before.

“I thought there weren’t ‘posed to be any secrets between us,” Lucy pouts stopping her hands, “It’s okay if you were hurting because of what happened to Igneel and needed space from the guild...and from me...” Lucy trails off her eyes growing watery.

“It wasn’t like that,” Natsu whispers still unable to look at Lucy.

“It’s okay Natsu. It’s just when you left, I...” Lucy trails off unsure if she wants to say what’s really on her mind now.

“What?” Natsu presses looking at her now.

Lucy untangles herself from Natsu, “We should go to sleep,” she says managing to crawl to her bed and flops on the mattress passing out.

Natsu remains still on the floor and frowns. Whatever she was going to say will never come out again. He knows her better than anyone and getting her to admit any sort of feeling is like pulling teeth. She never wants to let him in sometimes.

Natsu finally brings himself to look at Lucy and she’s now curled up with Happy. He can’t help the half smile that tugs at his lips at seeing the two of them. The two people he couldn’t live without.

Natsu looks around the apartment and finds the usual framed photo of Lucy and her parents as well as Michelle right next to it. Another photo he hasn’t seen before though sits next to the family one. Natsu’s eyebrows furrow and he stands to get a closer look. He picks up the framed photo and see it’s one of Lucy, Happy, and him. Lucy is in a Mrs. Claus outfit, Happy is in an elf costume, and Natsu is dressed as Old Saint Nick himself. The shot is a photo of the two of them blushing under a mistletoe and Happy is the one holding it.

He remembers Mirajane tricking the trio into taking one. Mira had begged Lucy that morning to take her place for a Sorcerer’s Weekly family Christmas themed photo shoot Mira was supposed to do with Lisanna and Elfman, but the siblings surprised Mira with a vacation trip.

Lucy had been so excited to take an easy job that also paid good. When the group got there, Lucy was so shy at first taking pictures with only Natsu that Happy had to jump in to make her more comfortable. Natsu was so busy trying to help Lucy feel better that he forgot about being annoyed with the flashing lights and cameras. He only saw her and how happy she was.

Natsu smiles at the memory and sets the framed photo back to in its place. It’s when he turns back to look at Lucy that he notices outside the window a snowflake drifts on the window pane and soon more follow. He grins at the change of weather. Lucy will no doubt be happy to see the first snowfall of the winter when she wakes up. The weather may even snow them in, Natsu finds the thought of spending an entire morning with Lucy comforting.

He wasn’t planning on leaving Lucy in this state anyway. Natsu helps Lucy get under her blankets and against his better judgement he wiggles in next to her, Happy lays curled on top of the blankets.

Natsu stares out the window watching each snowflake stick to the window pane to pass the time when Lucy suddenly shifts to where she is practically laying on top of Natsu, her soft breasts pressing against Natsu’s chest and her smooth legs tangled around his own.

“Luce,” Natsu mutters trying to untangle her from him but she doesn’t let up even a single bit.

“Don’t ruin it,” she mumbles and nestles her face into the crook of Natsu’s neck, “You’re so warm Natsu.”

Natsu lays in the bed for the first time in his life frozen stiff and he wonders if this is how Gray’s enemies feel. Natsu was used to Lucy being handsy when she’s drunk but this was something different. He can feel her hips pressed to his and her arm crosses over his chest. Natsu can feel how close her lips are to him, so close he can feel her breath on his neck. The feeling of her breath on his neck is stirring something inside of him he forced himself to suppress a long time ago.

As careful as he can, he puts an arm around her to draw her closer and naturally she takes the bait. She snuggles into Natsu even closer and he feels her relax meanwhile his heart is racing.

It has to be because she’s cold, Natsu tells himself.

That’s when Lucy’s lips lightly touch Natsu’s neck and it drives him nuts. His arm that was holding Lucy tightens and he has to steady his heart. He doesn’t know what to do but he knows he is definitely not going to get any sleep tonight.

• • • to be continued? • • •

✰extra comment// this was my first time posting anything like this and I was terrified to do it, but I hope y’all kind of liked it lol. If y’all did actually like this, I wouldn’t mind writing a second part just let me know.

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mountphoenixrp · 5 years ago

Photo

We have a new citizen in Mount Phoenix:

Poseidon, the God of the Sea, whose origins stem from Ancient Greece. He is now a City Council member and the fire chief at the MPFD.

FC NAME/GROUP: Gong Yoo GOD NAME: Poseidon PANTHEON: Greek OCCUPATION: Fire Chief at MPFD and a Council Member HEIGHT: 6'0” / 180 cm DEFINING FEATURES: A full back tattoo depicting the bustling animal life in the deep ocean, all in black and white - as well as a traditional tribal tattoo on his thigh that was done by a traditional tattoo artist in Hawaii. During intense emotions his eyes will change into a teal, ocean blue.

PERSONALITY: It is no secret that Poseidon can be a bit of a hothead. All too often acting on emotional impulse rather than strategy. More often than not he opposes those in power or those that believe they can tell him what he can and can’t do as he is very independent. The god is not known to back down from a challenge or act in any way inferior to others. He is quite confident with himself and takes care of how he looks, preferring to be admired rather than feared. As such, he has learned to be quite charming and charismatic as well as persuasive. As he as lived with mortals for quite some time now he has also come to appreciate humanity and good that they hold. However he is still aggressive and viscous to mortals that show themselves to be the worst of humanity.

HISTORY:

Chapter 1; “It was then that I returned to the sea”

The mountain was comfortable, peaceful and full of life. Yet, under the rule of his brother and the distance from the sea, Poseidon remained out of place. Many wondered why he had yet to return to the sea after so many years away… The war was long forgotten and siblings did as siblings do and moved on as if no betrayals ever took place. His desire for earthly possessions and his soft spot for another warming his bed distracting him from his duties as not only a husband but as a deity of the sea as well. For some time, Poseidon neglected his duties as the King of Atlantis and as the god of the seas. His brother - who was seldom different from him - threatened him should he not return to the deep waters and tend to his people. The god was a stubborn one, never really one for being told what to do, especially when Zeus was concerned.

Poseidon recognized what it seemed to his eyes that his family chose to ignore. Mortals were forgetting about them, fewer and fewer worshipping them as well as less believing in them at all. Becoming only a little more than myths on the tongues of mortals. The god had found it difficult to live amongst the humans as his siblings began integrating with them. Creating new lives for themselves with the mortals they once ruled over. However, Poseidon had no desire to live among the mortals like the others did. As Olympus slowly dwindled in population, the ruler of Atlantis stood and looked out over the mortals below… Loneliness and the call of the ocean pulling him from the safety net he’d made for himself back to the salty depths and the golden castle that felt more like a tomb than a home.

Chapter 2; “I shall guide them to shore, even if I no longer gain the recognition that I once did”

A faithful wife, a vast wonderland at his disposal, creatures far and wide that answered his every beck and call… what more could a man - a god - ask for? He often forgets the love he holds for his domain when he is gone and enjoying the spoils of dry land. Even when he is no longer the name on many sailors lips, he still protects them and guides them to the safety of the shore. That is until, he is challenged and that spark inside of him that fuels his pride and rash decisions is set aflame. “An unsinkable ship” or “The worst storm in recorded human history” are all calls to the impulsive decisions of the God of the Sea.

The human world was always changing, growing and advancing. Poseidon ventured along land whenever he could, charming all he came into contact with and enticing many far and wide. Feeding starving fishermen and smiling kindly to the children he leaves behind. They may never know how much he actually cares for each and every one of them, even if they were more often than not accidents. Most of his time on land and was spent pursuing and exhausting amount of men and women then returning to his wife. Who would eventually leave him to better herself among the mortals who taught her that they way her husband treated her was not love and he did not deserve her faithfulness.

The god could not resent her for her choice to leave him. In fact, it was a turning point for the god as it forced him to recognize the way he was treating those closest to him. He began to look in on himself and contemplate his flaws for the first time in centuries. Realizing the wrongs he’d done and learning from his mistakes was a tough process for him but… he did it and arose stronger than he’d been before.

Chapter 3; “I could rain down hell upon those who spoil my domain”

Poseidon never imagined this day would come. A day where he walked along the shores of his home, with his toes in the blessed sand and the sea foam that meets his ankles, yet he picks up trash at his feet. A rumble in his chest that echoes as thunder along the horizon, a glare in his eyes as he watches drunken teens leave bottles and wrappers along the sand. His gaze spitting daggers as he sits in town hall meetings around the globe as the people beg their government to stop dumping their waste in his precious seas. His heart singing as young people create new ways to save the creatures that live along the top layer of his oceans, those that suffer the most from their indiscretions.

He enters large skyscrapers owned by those who control the slug that finds its way into his lakes and rivers. Stands in conference rooms with people who believe him to be nothing more than a crazy environmentalist, not as a god that could end their greasy lives where they sit in their crisp suits. He would fight for the strength to keep the power within him contained, the one time he chooses to ignore his impulsive nature and stick to a plan. The only plan he has that doesn’t involved murdering every executive mortal that deems the lining of his pockets to be more important that his precious oceans. He fights on their level, with money and persuasion, though that doesn’t always seem to be what fuels them.

The god stands in a crowd of young people, with signs above their heads, fight in their spirit, compassion in their hearts and hope in their veins as they beg and plead with the older generation to save the oceans. He stands on court steps, in court rooms, on beaches surrounded by volunteers, sits in the audience of speakers and protests cruel aquariums and corporations that think of the salt water on the coast as their own personal dumping ground. He swims the banks of the shores, collecting trash that sinks, sits on the rocks outside his beach home and unwraps plastic tied around the necks of turtles. Soothes the whales that cry for their dying children and feeds the sharks that are being threatened for simply existing.

With a trident in his hand, his toes in the sand and an anguished smile on his lips, a slow tear rolls down his cheek as he stares at the oil that just washed ashore. He stares at the piles of fish that drowned in human greed and showed the god the worst side of humanity that he wished would never come.

Chapter 4; “I do not run and I do not hide, I am merely preserving my cause”

He changed his face often yet, kept the same conviction in his voice, kept the markings on his skin and the emotion fueled teal-blue eyes that hold waves in their depths. Young people are not stupid, they are the root of his cause, the reason he has hope for humanity. It did not come as a surprise to him that a few would catch onto his lies and falsehoods. As many in the groups he kept with for the cause shifted their attention to finding out who the mysterious person with different faces kept appearing, he left. Knowing that in order to get them back on track he needed to no longer distract them with the mysteries of the gods and powers beyond their comprehension.

There was a place he could go that he’d ventured to before. A place that was home to members of his family as well as other pantheons. Children of Gods and Gods alike roaming streets safely, living their lives and protecting one another. An island and a city which he knew well as well as the potential of his own children being there now both excited him and worried him. As he fought for his cause and worked with the best of humanity to save his domain he met many men and women who enchanted him. Unashamed in fathering children with the women and pursuing anyone charmed enough with him to spare a second glance. He could only imagine they may find themselves here eventually, if ever. Poseidon could admit he had work to do still in the fathering department but, if he found one here or if one found him… he would try his best.

After all, he needed to befriend more young people to fight for the future of his domain.

POWERS: Among the usual abilities of the gods - Poseidon can control the movement of water using only his mind as well as summon massive storms in the oceans. With the use of his trident he can produce earthquakes and tidal waves. He has the ability to speak to and control sea creatures, with the use of moisture in the air he has the ability to fly. A lesser known gift of his is that he can create life with the use of water but, at great cost to himself. STRENGTHS: Confident, Charismatic, Independent WEAKNESSES: Impulsive, Impatient, Prideful

#kpop rp #krp #kdrama #gong yoo #gong jichul #mp; welcome

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soprana-snap · 6 years ago

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Magnolia Seven-Seven

Chapter Three: Too Much of a Bad Thing

Summary: Magnolia is like every other city, full of traffic jams and hoards of people. When Captain Gajeel and Detectives Gray and Natsu get involved with a shady crime boss that seems to have the whole crime ring in his back pocket, they need a little more backup to bring him down: i.e ADA Lucy Heartfilia, Evidence Technician Levy McGarden, and Caffeinator Juvia Lockster.

Rating: M for adult situations and language

A/N: Hey guys. It’s been a while, huh? I’ve been busy planning my wedding and taking care of some elderly family members. I didn’t have much time to write...or the will to.

Recently, my brother had an accident and he didn’t make it. I’ve been kinda lost for a bit, hence me going through some old drafts and trying to pick up writing again. Here’s to trying.

Be warned, there is some heavy adult themes in this chapter: Drug use, sexual implications, classic CSI. We can’t have all sunshine and rainbows in this M-77 ride!

Previous Chapters: One Two

“Have you ever, you know, tried to be anything more than an over-sized child?”

Gray leaned back slightly in the booth, swallowing down his pizza with a few chugs of soda. Cheese strings hung from his lips, swinging like willow branches in the wind.

“Uh, no?” he said, slurping them up and wiping his mouth on his sleeve. He didn’t mind the stains, making a mental note to dump half a bottle of stain remover into the laundry. “Since when did this make you feel childish?”

The man sighed, glancing over to the giant mouse currently dancing with a toothy five year old wearing a party hat. Or, more like some guy in a mouse costume, the mascot of the place.

“Chuckie Cheese. Really Gray? How much longer are we going to pretend like we are the same old kids?”

Gray scowled, laying the pizza on the pastel plate and leaned in close, brow twitching. “Oh? Is that so? Then why are you holding on to all those tickets, Lyon? Give’em to me.”

Lyon paled, scrambling to grab the pile of pink tickets from Gray’s seeking hands, nearly leaping from the booth. “Wait-let’s not get hasty! I earned these.”

“Come on, give the over-sized child what he wants.” Gray teased lightly, making a show of reaching further and laughing when Lyon slapped his hands away.

“Only you are the over-sized child here. Ultear would back me up on this!” Lyon laughed, rolling the tickets around his wrist. He could never be too careful with Gray. He was nosy as hell and loved to ‘borrow’ stuff. If he got his grubby hands on these tickets, Lyon could kiss his Captain Planet power ring set goodbye. “Too bad she didn’t come, huh?”

Gray rolled his eyes, grabbing another slice of pizza instead and digging in. “Yeah, something about a meeting in the capital. Jeez, she could have just said she didn’t want to come.”

“Yeah, well being a senator makes her too busy for her brothers nowadays. You know she would have kicked your ass in skee ball.” Lyon said, taking another slice for himself.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Gray sighed. “She’s always had a stick up her ass. I don’t know how her and Ur were related.”

Lyon blinked at the name, glancing up to stare at Gray for a second before returning his attention to the pepperonis. “But she’s always treated us like her brothers, even after Ur passed.”

Gray frowned, his mood turning somber. “On second thought, I can see the relation.”

Lyon licked his lips, glancing down to the chipped wooden table with the faded logo before speaking again. “Speaking of Ultear, I have some good news to share, although she will hear about it from my texts...I’ve almost got enough money to do it! Meredy and I counted our assets just the other day.”

Gray glanced up, broken from the somber mood in a heartbeat, his grin wide. “Finally going to be a big boy and get a real job?”

Lyon pouted, flicking pizza crust at Gray, unsurprised when the man caught it and ate it in less than five seconds. After all, it was Gray that said even adopted siblings shared the cooties. Plus, with the animals that were his roommates, Lyon was sure Gray got over whatever little germophobia he had. He had once watched Natsu ingest a hole can of expired green beans, crowing about going to Valhalla as he did so. His younger adopted brother learned by examples, after all.

“Lay off. Uber eats is a fine job! I make enough to get by and save. Meredy also makes good tips at Moe’s.” Times had been rough before, but the future was bright in Lyon’s eyes. They finally got it turned around without the constant offer of help from Ultear and Gray. Old debts were getting paid. He could make it by on his own.

“You don’t even have a car. You deliver by bike.” Gray deadpanned.

“For now! I almost have enough to buy that old building off on Waters Street. Then, the era of Vastia’s Realty will dawn! Vastia will sell your house fast-ia!” The moment it slogan rolled off his tongue, Gray’s cheeks inflated, his poor attempt to stifle his laughter failing. Lyon sighed.

“D-Did’ja...pfft, think of that by yourself?” Gray wheezed, slow clapping. “It really...shows your passion.” He broke into a fit of laughter.

“It’s still in the works.” Lyon dismissed coolly, mildly put off by his brother’s lack of enthusiasm.

“Oi, I think you’ll be great...just, leave the marketing to Meredy. That slogan was pretty rough.” Gray rolled his shoulders, adopting a contemplating expression before speaking, “Come to Vastia Realty and meet the most interesting realtor in the world! How about that?”

To be honest, Lyon did kind of like it. But, Gray actually being helpful was fishy in itself. “And how would I back that up?”

Gray’s smile turned wolfish. Ah, here it comes. “We can hang baby pictures of you up in the lobby and tell stories like how you wet the bed until you were-”

“Okay, let’s not.” Lyon interrupted a little louder than he wanted. Some mother shot them a withering glare before turning her attention back to her tot trying to count tickets. “I like the ‘most interesting realtor’ pitch, but let’s leave out the rest.”

Gray shrugged, helping himself to the pitcher of soda. “Suit yourself. I thought it had flare.” He waggled his free hand in a poor rendition of ‘the ol’ razzle dazzle’.

Lyon flashed a pointed tongue at him. “You would. You’ve always had bad taste...and a stripping habit!” he added as Gray fidgeted with his shirt, lifting it up past his pectorals. Lyon swore he could hear the indignant whispers of mothers all around. “Stripping is bad enough. Stripping in front of kids is worse.”

To his credit, Gray paled and shoved his shirt back down. “Still haven't kicked that habit. Remember when we tried out for the swim team and asked Ur to train us?”

Lyon blinked, a wistful smile crossing his face. How could he ever forget anything that had to do with Ur? “I do. I remember her telling us about when she was an olympic swimmer and how she would train. And like fools, we asked her to push us and push us hard.”

Gray let his face fall into his palms. “Oh, that was the worst decision we ever made. Remember when we had to ‘think speed’? Strip down to our shorts as fast as we could, then sprint at and dive into the water? She made us run that drill until I strip out of habit!”

His brother laughed softly, eyes gleaming with fond memories as well. Something about Gray eating it one day with his pants half off. That was hilarious. “Yeah, but it got us on the swim team. Ur was so proud.”

“The little league swim team. I don’t know why she had our team pictures on the fridge.” Gray chuckled, pushing his empty plate away, shifting on the uncomfortable booth seat.

“She was proud because we set out and did it. For the first time, her two lost boys found a way with pure grit.” Lyon said, staring into his glass of ice water. “We weren’t lost anymore.”

The silence that stretched after that lingered long after the pizza had grown cold. Lyon could see the grease of the cheese start to coagulate, the pepperoni curling up as it dried.

“So-” Lyon finally said, his voice a croak “-what is Gray Fullbuster up to these days? I yakked about my plans. What are yours?”

Gray blinked, at odds with the fact that for once with Lyon, he didn’t have the heart to brag about his life. Not after remembering all that was in their childhood. Ur wouldn’t want them putting each other down.

“Well...the guys and I have this new case. Natsu is raring to go as usual, but he put both of us into a produce cart when we were in a chase. I told you about Lucy, right?”

Lyon nodded with a small smile. “Still not giving him the time of day?”

Gray grinned. “You got it, but I see her easing up. I think that asshole enjoys giving chase to her.”

Both men sighed, Lyon rolling his eyes. “That guy is something else.”

“Yeah, well, he’s takin’ to quoting Shakespeare at her...incorrectly. So that’s a thing. Gajeel, well, still has a steel rod up his ass but he keeps us in line.” Gray sighed, looking at his watch, mildly uncomfortable sharing anymore details. “At this rate we are gonna be here for dinner.”

Lyon started, glancing at his own phone in surprise. “Whoa, I’m late. I got an extra gig and I still have to run home and change.”

“Run, Lyon, run.” Gray teased.

“Shaddup Gray.” Lyon snapped as he stood, flopping a measly two dollars onto the table.He paused, looking grim as he dug deeper into his ratty wallet, pursing his lips as his search continued to be fruitless.

“Oi, I got it.” Gray said finally, “Get going. Next time, I treat you to this really great coffee shop.”

Flashing a grateful smile, Lyon slid his wallet into his pockets quickly, bumping fists with his brother before whipping around and hustling away. Watching him go, Gray rolled his eyes, fishing out his own wallet, not in the least peeved.

After all, he had plenty of time to pester Lyon to pay him back.

Some people didn’t just have days off. No rest for the wicked. That sort of thing. As Gajeel leaned closer to the stack of paperwork he had on his desk, it didn’t make the sort of difference he wanted. The stack was still tall, and half of it wasn’t his own.

Damn that Detective Fullbuster for putting in a day off right under his nose when he fell behind on paperwork. He had better things to do that pick up the slack!

At least Natsu did his paperwork on time...with doodles for ‘extra credit’ as he called them. Some of them were little stick people getting eaten by dragons, others were of miscellaneous things like cheeseburgers or the scribbles of ‘Mr. Natsu Heartfilia’.

God, he was pathetic.

Gajeel let his forehead smack the desktop, once, twice, a third time for extra assurance before he took up his pen again, signing away. Register evidence to the locker? Check. Release personal items to families? Check. Release news to press? Fuck that, the vultures can find it on their own!

The stack loomed over him, reminding him of the drill sergeant he had in the academy. It’s been years before anyone actually tore him down to the bare frame, his mind honed in a carefully forged body of muscle. Sure, he was a little rebellious back then and needed a lot of work, but he had people to put him back on the right path.

So did Fullbuster and Dragneel.

Gajeel sneered at the memories of the three of them, three boys desperate to be changed men. They didn’t realize it at the time, but they all were after the same thing: belonging. As much as it ground his gears in the beginning, they were a pretty good set besides the tiffs every now and then.

They were still fucking morons...but they could be morons together. Absently, he touched his left eye, where Dragneel had given him a black eye once, then is right cheek, where Gray had once slugged him. If anything, Gajeel imagined them to be like brothers, not that he had any desire for some. They kinda just...fell into his lap one day, literally. They had a fight in the mess hall and fell into his lap, knocking his grilled cheese into orbit.

Assholes.

But that’s how they became friends, and he used the term loosely. They paired up for sparring, got stuck in the same bunk area, had the same obstacle courses, and eventually volunteered each other for pepper spray and taser tests. He could still remember Natsu’s cackle when he got to taze Gray, and Gray’s chortles when he got to pepper spray Natsu. He, however, got to taze and spray them both.

Somehow, the fuckers ended up studying with him, comparing notes and giving backhanded advice to each other. They became some funky trio, like the Three Stooges. The two stuck like glue to him. Gajeel could see why.

Natsu, with his fucked up past and his desperate push after his adopted dad’s death, felt alone and clung to the one thing that kept his feet grounded on the right path: the police academy. He was volatile, shouting at instructors and usually running extra laps, but it was all a face to hide the pain. Gajeel had heard of the gang Tartaros before, back when he was young and in the gang life too. He knew of the Black Wizard, the leader, and of his little monster brother, END. It wasn’t until later in the academy that Gray and he learned the truth. That Natsu was one and the same: END. Gray’s snooping habit bit them in the ass, intercepting a letter from a penitentiary. What a mistake. They let Natsu wallop them that time.

But it cleared the air and Natsu slowly came down to the land of actual people.

Gray, well, had an equally screwed up past. The death of his parents by the drug lord, Deloria hit him hard. The foster system dropped him like a hot potato after he started getting picked up in juvie. It was pure luck that a foster mother suitable for assholes like Gray picked him up, adopting him not long after. Gray had a more stable life than he or Natsu, but it shattered just as fast when his mom died, leaving the older sister to care for them. From what he knew, Gray’s brother started getting into trouble where as Gray pulled himself up by his bootstraps.

As for himself, well, he was naturally a troublemaker. Which of course drew those dweebs to him like flies to food.

Then they graduated, moved into a rented house together, and lived happily fucking after. That was nearly five years ago. Which is how long it’ll take him to finish this paperwork!

With a snarl, Gajeel shoved a stack aside, just barely stopping himself from pushing just a little more so it all toppled into the garbage. Gray would be in so much shit, but then his leadership would look bad too. With all the faith this department put into his sorry ass, that was unacceptable.

He signed away paper after paper, not bothering to check the clock. The stack began to shrivel, still a formidable size for Gray to deal with tomorrow.

Was he allergic to paperwork or something? Why was it so hard? All he had to to was not read and just sign. Then, he got to get yelled at for not reading. It wasn’t rocket science.

He supposed that he got stuck with them as punishment, for what, he didn’t know. It was shitty, shitty karma.

He glanced up for a moment, freezing as he stared out of the glass of his office and into the halls. Or rather, in the conference room beyond the hall.

It was a quiet room, one designated for detective use only. Cork boards and whiteboards decorated the walls, all meant for cases. There were a few desks too, but the main table was an oval, situated where one would see the biggest whiteboard.

Inside, fingers tangled in his hair, nails scratching away in frustration, stood Natsu. He faced down the largest cork board, photos and sticky notes plastered all over. Even from a distance, Gajeel could see the red yarn that Natsu favored, tied around thumb tacks and drawing lines. It was old fashioned but effective; Natsu being a hands on-learner requiring more of the old fashioned.

By the looks of it, he wasn’t making headway on whatever case he was looking at. Be it the increased car thefts or the increased amounts of misdemeanor crimes. It was looking like he had no headway in either.

Though, the same could be said for Gray as well. No leads on the increased drug trade or the sudden flux of counterfeit money in the city now. But he didn’t see Gray on the edge of a mental breakdown.

Or...kicking a chair over.

The clatter was lost over the distance and walls between, but Gajeel saw Natsu cringe at the sound, calming immediately. That guy...mind like a steel trap but still with a temper.

He watched Natsu move, gently setting the chair upright once more before returning to the board looking more pensive.

Gajeel didn’t get to squint and take a peek at what Natsu was dealing with, because a figure crossed his sights, passing between the rooms through the hall. Orange sweater with a yellow headband, blue hair. His heart sputtered, his mind cleared of any questions about Natsu’s cases. Levy slowed, turning her head to look at him, eyes locking on.

Time slowed for a moment before she sent that smile. Fuck, now he was blushing and squirming in his seat. He had time, right? Paperwork could wait. Those manly butterflies were back, strumming electric guitars and singing ‘shooby doo’.

They dropped like lead, however, when Levy blinked, glanced to his door, and flushed the brightest shade of red. He heard the knock echo in his head as Levy looked to the floor and scurried away, taking his music with her.

There went that.

“Come in.” he grumbled, pretending to be working and schooling his face back into a scowl. Who dared come through his door?

“Redfox.” Oh fuck.

“Scarlet.” he greeted, praying his brow didn’t have sweat. She was oblivious to most things but the scent of fear. She was viciously scary without trying, the air around her heavy with threat.

She smiled and he relaxed. No, she didn’t know.

“Enjoying your day?” she mused, eyeing his completed stack with approval in her face. “You’ve certainly been busy.”

He would have been busy with something else if she hadn’t darkened his doorway. Someone else.

“Eh, yer definition of enjoying varies from mine.”

The smile stayed. So she was amused? Wha-

“So you forgot about your court appearance, I suppose?”

His stomach bottomed out, eyes tearing to the clock. He wasn’t- aw shit he was late. Standing up, his chair rolled back as he scrambled around the desk, accidentally getting his foot stuck in the wastebasket. A curse on his lips, he kicked it away, stumbling his way over to the door. Erza stepped aside with that stupid smirk. If only he could wipe it away.

Ah.

“Finish up my paperwork for me, thanks Scarlet.” he said, flashing a sneer of his own. If anything made her frown, it was paperwork.

The smirk widened, like a hyena with a plot. “Me? Why Detective Dragneel happens to be right across the hall. I’m sure he has the time. I’ll do you a favor and pass it along.” With a toss of her hair, she nodded to the door. “Well? Get moving!”

A shiver crawled down Gajeel’s spine. Well, he tried! Without even glancing at Natsu and sending a mental apology, Gajeel hustled away, knowing he’ll be forgiven by Natsu after a punch or two...but never by Lucy if he left her hanging, not until he bought her a new law book.

“Ms. Heartfilia, could you please get off your plane of existence and explain your point frankly?”

Gods, she was so tired, her eyes burned like she opened them in the ocean. It wasn’t her fault that they couldn’t follow the leads she was laying down. She spent days getting this evidence, days arguing it in court, and at this point it will be longer. She literally just proved this guy guilty while speaking plainly.

Oh well, she forgot that some people never went to law school. She looked at the jury, embarrassment flooding her at the blank looks that greeted her. Oh, maybe she did overdo it.

Judge Fernandes seemed to have followed her but he was just as on par with her trail as she was.

“Of course, your Honor.” she allowed, closing her eyes and taking a breath in. Okay, simplify.

“The evidence against Mr. Prominence is overwhelming. He has DNA evidence linking him to no less than ten missing women this year alone. Of the most recent: Millianna Gato, Susan Farlow, and Michelle Starbrooke. All three of high school age and interested in a summer internship. An internship sponsored by Mr. Prominence, himself.”

Lucy breathed in, and instantly regretted it.

“Objection!” Bora’s defense growled, spittle flinging from his lips.

“On what grounds?” Judge Fernandes asked.

“I object on the grounds that Ms. Heartfilia is trying to sway the jury through plain statements that hold no full proof that my client is in fact guilty of these girl’s disappearances.” He was still slinging spit, like a leaking faucet.

Lucy scowled. Of course she was trying to sway the jury. It was her job. What kind of crackpot lawyer did this guy hire?

Judge Fernandes seemed to have the same idea. “Overruled. There have been no full statements from Ms. Heartfilia that directly accuse Mr. Prominence. Ms. Heartfilia, proceed.”

“Thank you, your Honor.” Lucy said graciously. “As I was saying, this internship, if you recall, took young and ambitious girls that dreamed of becoming models and promised a study abroad trip that the internship funded should the girl not be able to provide.”

She stepped closer to the jury, moving her hand in sweeping gestures as she continued, “Prosecution has presented bank statements linking Mr. Prominence to the girl’s tickets purchases, evidence that the girls met with him before their disappearances, and evidence that these girls have been sold as slaves to Bosco with handwritten receipts.” Honestly, he wanted to get caught. He never wiped the hard drives before police seized them. He filed printed bank statements in a cabinet. He was the most self-incriminating criminal she had ever seen in court.

“If the jury desires, I can present even more evidence-” she began, freezing when the Judge coughed.

“Ms. Heartfilia, we are out of time. I will adjourn until a later date. I will take a parting statement.”

Crap. She took too long.

“Of course, your Honor. I only leave the reminder that should the jury wish, I will present more evidence to support a sentence.”

She thought she heard a groan from some of the jury. They should fear. She won’t take ‘not guilty’ for an answer. Those girls deserved as much.

“Indeed,” Judge Fernandes conceded, “something the jury will deliberate next session. This court will adjourn until next Wednesday at eight AM.” His gavel hit the desk and instantly Lucy relaxed her muscles.

“Officer Redfox, now that you have joined us, please escort Mr. Bora Prominence to the detention officers.”

Lucy tensed all over again, whirling around and watching Gajeel sheepishly move from the aisle to enter the floor, fishing out his cuffs. So he did show up! She hadn’t seen him at all during the defense nor when she took the floor. Meaning, he was late when he promised not to be. Judging by the way he avoided her pinpoint gaze, she figured he knew she noticed.

Sounds of the jury standing and shuffling to the back room echoed through the courtroom; the polished wood that accented every inch of the room made it reverberate like they stood inside a drum.

It was the music of dismissal, the melody of justice that she had become accustomed to since her internships.

A sigh on her breath, Lucy wandered back to her table, trying to gather her chaos back into her briefcase. Today was yet another day of frustration potent enough for her to get messy with paperwork. This trial has been going on forever and truth be told, she was even tired of it. The jury was wilting, looking bored each and every day now. No matter how much evidence she dug up, the defense barely managed to counter.

This trial was a joke. What a waste of her precious time.

By the time she latched her case and slung it over her shoulder, Gajeel had returned, holding open the gate that separated observers from the court.

“You were late.” she said, stepping through and pausing for him to follow.

His gaze averted for a second before he met her eyes. “Yeh, I figured ya noticed.” He flashed her a grin, ruffling her hair and snorting when she squealed, “My hair!”

“Sorry bunny girl, I had to cover Fullbuster’s paperwork and Dragneel was busy with his cases. Time ran away, I guess.” It was true...enough he supposed.

Lucy smiled, walking alongside him through the halls. “Well, that’s acceptable. Nobody got rowdy this time.” She brushed strands of hair from her face, eyes drifting to the old tile floor as her heels clacked on it. “And, I’m not surprised to hear that Gray skimped out of work...or how hard Natsu is working.” She laughed lightly then, “They are something else, huh?”

Gajeel rolled his eyes, grumbling, “Oh yeah, something else, alright. Both are moronic monkeys on my back.” Bringing up his hand, he scratched at his chin, scowling at a point along the farthest walls. “Gray’s hidin’ something. He’s always texting someone, not saying who it is. He’s starting to be absent from dinner and sometimes not coming home at night.”

Lucy blinked, staring up at Gajeel before a sly look crossed her face. “Oh~.” she hummed, a glint in her eyes. “Getting worried, are you? Gajeel, I never expected you to be a mother hen!”

She was teasing, but it grated his nerves enough to flash her a glower. “Careful what you say, bunny girl. I won’t stand for that kinda talk.”

Lucy stuck her tongue out at him. But instead of rising up, Gajeel grinned cheekily and went for a lower blow. “Oh yeah, Dragneel told me to tell ya, ‘What is a drunken man like? Me when I see you.’”

Her face warmed, but she laughed lightly, shaking her head. “He never gets the quotes right.” she sighed, reaching into her purse and pulling out a small composition notebook and her pen. Natsu never got the quotes right, but she would remember every single one.

“I don’t think he realizes I double majored in Law and English literature.” she sighed.

Gajeel shrugged, his lips bordering a sneer now. “If he ever figures out you write down every single one of his botched quotes-”

Lucy smacked his pierced cheeks with her pen, a playful scowl that did not hide her raging blush on her cheeks. “You are sworn to secrecy, crepe chef.”

Gajeel clamped his mouth shut, starting to pout. Ah, checkmate.

“I swear you, Erza and Levy can be wicked. All these women managing to keep me in check. I can’t even make fun of the idiots now.”

He was so full of pizza he felt like he had to roll home. Every time Gray invited him to lunch, he always pigged out. Meredy actually teased him about gaining a few.

Stepping over a pothole in the sidewalk, Lyon walked on with what could only be described as the swagger of a full and confident man. Of all the things he was proud of, deceiving his brother once again was one of them.

He hated it, sure, but lying seemed preferable to actually having Gray disappointed and insisting on helping he and Meredy out financially. He wasn’t a damn child, no matter how he and Gray teased each other.

The realtor business wasn’t even close. Their funds weren’t even in the ballpark. They lived off of ramen and spaghettios. He stole WiFi from his neighbors.Their water was shut off twice this month alone.

Ur would be ashamed and Lyon knew he couldn’t handle the shame in Gray’s eyes too. Ultear was never around much, so his secret stayed safe from her, at least.

Ur’s two perfect children and the one not-so-perfect one.

He and Meredy needed a call soon or they’d fall short on rent again. After just barely squaring it away from being four months in delinquency, the landlord promised to be far less understanding in the future.

He’d do anything to keep her off the streets, cold and hungry.

As if by a miracle, his phone buzzed in his pocket, the ringer long since malfunctioned to forever stay silent. Not like he could afford a better phone anyway.

“Yo.” he greeted coolly after flipping the phone open, effortlessly pulling off his classic ‘Badass™’ look.

The voice on the other side was like an angel, his one kryptonite.

“Hey Darlin’, I was just thinking about y-”

An angel that had some fantastic news, apparently, since she didn’t wait for him to flatter her properly.

“What? A job?” He tried not to sound too overeager. He failed when she gave him the payload.

“A-Are you serious!? Twenty grand just to do that?!”

She spoke again and he had to grasp the wall of the nearest building to prevent him from falling to the earth.

“Each?!”

He felt like Icarus, the boy that fashioned wings of feather and wax to take to the skies, to taste that freedom that had been eluding him for so long. As long as he stayed away from the sun and the tumultuous waves below, he could soar forever.

With Meredy sounding just as thrilled as he, it was hard not to smile. This was they big break. This was their moment.

“Count me in. Where do I need to be?”

Magnolia was a beautiful city, accented mostly by the canals and the gorgeous cathedral. While tourists stuck to the well lit, well patrolled parts, most locals knew where not to be at certain parts of the day. Like now, Main Street would be overflowing with traffic, so much so that cars would clog the intersections because the lights never changed fast or often enough.

It was the case now here in the development district. No local in their right mind would be on Abandoned Row, the street filled with the most abandoned warehouses. Most belonged to Heartfilia Railways, but after the latest stock hit, the company had to sell off a few assets...and abandon some too.

Locals avoided it, so naturally it was the perfect place to do the less than legal things.

He was a little late, so by the time he was speed walking up to the meet point, Meredy was already motioning to a large, unmarked truck to line up with the loading zone. She flashed him a smile, one that never failed to set his heart aflutter, before returning her focus back to the task at hand.

Lyon had just enough time to sidle up to her side, assuring that the warehouse doors were accessible as the truck screeched to a stop. If he had to guess, the left rear axle was needing some serious diagnostics, but that wasn’t his job to care.

Before his sweet Meredy could open her mouth to finally greet him, the door to the truck started unfurling, metal sheets clanking as they rolled up to the top.

Then, Lyon laid his eyes on something as pretty as a heap of stinking garbage.

“Lyon. Meredy.” The man greeted coolly as he kicked out the ramp, steadying it on the loading dock before making his way across the gap. “I see not much has changed around these parts, then.”

“Kageyama.” he said just as icily, pasting on what could only be a leather-like smile. Maybe the corner of his lips started cracking. “Still you, I see.”

Meredy shot him a look out of the extreme peripheral of her eyes, her lips pursed. Ah, right. Manners.

Kageyama threw his head back with a bark of a laugh, no humor behind it at all. “Just as well. I’m only in town to clean up Erigor’s mess and then I’ll be out of your hair.” He kicked at a chock with the point of his shoe, watching the pyramid bounce away and fall down through the gap of the loading dock. “Getting arrested and all. His shit still needs to be shipped.”

“A minor setback, of course.” Meredy spoke finally, tossing her hair and turning to the warehouse door. The lock had already been disposed of, the metal shears left abandoned in the corner. With a dainty kneel, she grasped the handle and lifted with her knees, raising the door up with all the upper body strength she had.

“Gotta like a woman that can bend and lift.” Kageyama mused, grinning wider when Lyon shot him a withering look. “Aw now, I ain’t stepping on your territory, man. Just admiring.”

“You treat her with respect, you-” Lyon began, baring his teeth just a little.

“Boys. I’d like to get home sometime today. Let’s go.” Meredy cut in, giving Lyon yet another meaningful look before turning to enter the dark warehouse, a chuckling Kageyama following behind her.

“Yes Ma’am.”

He waited until Kageyama was deep in the truck, adjusting boxes so that the goods wouldn’t get damaged in transit, before speaking to Meredy in low tones.

“You know I don’t like when you’re disrespected.”

She flashed him a gentle smile, one usually reserved for him in private moments. His breath hitched and her eyes got just a little bit brighter.

“I know, babe. But we gotta keep it together. The Boss needs to keep a firm hold on his business or Mard’s gonna sweep us all out.” Her hands, soft and small, brushed his cheeks as gentle as a summer wind. “Play nice and we’ll be living the high life soon.”

Play nice. Her warning was clear. “Yeah, I got it. It’s kinda nice not having to fight Mard’s shitheads anymore. I get to do business on both turfs now that they came to a truce.”

She hummed, gathering more boxes in her arms. “Right. So, let’s get this truck gone by nightfall, hm?”

He couldn’t find the will to argue with her when she gave him that look. So, he put his head down and pushed, wishing more than anything to watch that truck drive off into the dusk and leave him alone with the one girl that could ever understand him...and a wad full of cash for his best behavior.

He felt he looked quite the part of insane, gazing up and down at the walls of his cell. His fingers were dusted white, as well as his palms. Of course, it wasn’t the white powder he was used to dealing with but when the guard on duty offered something occupy his time other than just singing annoying songs, he couldn’t resist adding substance to his planned insanity plea.

The song that never ended was not a popular choice of tunes for the cops, he supposed.

Half the chalk was gone now, being replaced by repetitive games of tic-tac-toe scribbled all over the walls. He was losing to himself, 130 to 0 if his count was correct.

It was so dull here in his little corner of hell. He had half an urge to lay on the floor and draw out his chalk outline just for giggles. Or maybe imagine it as that pesky Redfox’s outline. That would be something too.

From the open spaces beyond his cell, a throat cleared, and Erigor, ever bored and curious, turned to glance behind him.

White hair fell like waves of silk from her head, her smile ever so sweet as she stood before his prison. The classic police uniform she sported was the same as the guard’s had been, but she wore it like one of those cheesy camera girl bits, her cap tilted to the side and her buttons undone near her throat.

He grinned at her, eyeing her from head to toe, focusing on the tray of food she held out.

“Angel.”

Her grin widened, her eyes fluttering. “Erigor. Good to see you, as always.” She knelt down, sliding the tray through the opening under the gate. “I brought extra. Lord knows they don’t feed anyone enough in this joint.” she mused with a cute giggle.

Erigor didn’t wait, snatching the tray and dragging it to him as he sat cross legged on the floor. A burger and fries, how nice, he thought as he started to smother the bun in mustard and ketchup from the packets provided.

“Thanks doll. Maybe you are good for something other than being the Boss’s hot piece of the week.” he barbed, biting into the burger and watching her reaction as he chewed.

Angel just smiled serenely, letting the insult slide off her back like water off feathers.

“Always such a gentleman, Erigor. I’m charmed.” She followed it up with a bat of her wrist playfully, eyes falling to his food. “Anyway, try the fries. I got em from Fred’s, unsalted of course to make sure they were as fresh as possible. You got salt there to your right.”

Erigor grinned like a cat got the cream kind of way, snatching the salt and practically dumping the whole shaker over the fries. “Thanks. I haven’t eaten all damn day!”

For once, Angel cringed, still watching him from her kneeling position. “You know, too much salt can kill you one day. Maybe you should cut back your consumption a little?”

To reply, Erigor met her eyes and dumped even more salt on his fries before shoveling them into his mouth. She rolled her eyes and sighed.

He was halfway through his burger when something made him freeze mid-chew. His mouth felt dry, his cheeks hot and puffy. With wide, horrified eyes, he stared at Angel, who was smiling gently.

“What? Don’t like tomato?” she asked, watching his now pale face in interest.

Erigor didn’t reply, instead spitting out the chewed mess and scrambling for the bottle of water, chugging noisily. Then, he dropped it and curled on his hands and knees, dry heaving and sobbing. After moments of failure, he dug his fingers into his mouth, reaching for the back of his throat.

“I told you, didn’t I? Too much salt can kill you.” Angel said, still kneeling just outside the cell, watching his every move with calculation. “Although, that wasn’t just salt but really, all I know how to do is spread my legs, right?”

Erigor wheezed, panic aiding in his failure to retch. “Why…?” he managed, losing strength in his limbs alarmingly fast. The sight of her was blurring, his head spinning like he had too much liquor.

She laughed brightly, as if he told her a joke. “He is not too pleased with you, Erigor. Plus, you might squeal to the cops and he can’t risk that, can he?”

He started to convulse, gasping and grunting as his fingers scrambled for the tray. His eyes were rolling to the back of his head, making him more like a grotesque fish out of water than a man.

“Keyes is going to make this look like a natural death and you will be laid to rest like a dog in a backyard. How is that for your so called ‘greatness’?” Angel added, her smile twisting into the cruel gleam he knew was beneath it. So that was how she got her nickname.

He choked on his answer, drool and foam oozing from his dry lips as his body finally collapsed to the floor.

“Remember my name as you pass, Erigor. Angel of Death. I'd love to stay but I have more important things to do than watch you die, you know. Ciao.”

He can’t see, so he isn’t sure if she’s actually gone, but he reached out anyway, dragging his fingers through the smears of mustard and ketchup.

He can’t feel his body anymore, so he isn’t sure if he’s making it clear enough, but he tried anyway, dragging his fingers along the concrete floor.

His eyes rolled back, his last breath like a series of knives in his throat. He stared on, hoping his effort wasn’t wasted as his pulsing ears hear the calls of others echoing all around him.

“Help! Detention Ward!”

With his final moment ticking by, Erigor stared at his ketchup and mustard stained fingers, the colorful ‘AoD’ he scrawled just beyond his vision.

With that, Erigor died, surrounded by nobody on the cold floor of Magnolia’s second district county jail.

#nalu #gajevy #gruvia #fairy tail #my writing #m77

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