#but its twelve am and im upstairs | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nightfall-kachiniko · 3 years ago

Note

can i make a request with aot girls + hange with a s/o who accidentally forgot about their anniversary?

LMAO YES-

AOT girls (+ Hanji) with a s/o who accidentally forgot about their anniversary

Paring: mikasa x reader, annie x reader, pieck x reader, hanji x reader

“Y/n?” She said as you were making breakfast for you two. “Yes love?” You responded back to her, flipping the eggs. “A-are uhm… are you.. mad… at me?” She questioned hesitantly. You chuckled a bit, “Honey what are you talking about? Of course I’m not mad at you why would I be!” You reassure her smiling back at your wife. “Then uh- why haven’t we talked about.. you know our plans yet..?” Mikasa asked you. “Plans?” You stopped moving around the bacon, thinking. “Wait we had plans?” You looked at her over your shoulder confused.

“Y/n.. are you serious?” Your wife looked side to side, and after realizing with a while of you staring that you had not a clue what she was talking about she finally spoke up, “Our anniversary dinner? Where would you like to go tonight?” She explained. “OUR ANNIVERSARY-?!” Almost flipping the pan over on yourself you exclaimed, “ITS TODAY?!” you looked over at her as she gave a small chuckle and crossed her arms. “Yes love, our third anniversary together, As I’m married together,” she giggled at your surprise.

“WAIT WHAT HOLD- HUH- STOP DROP ROLL- WHAT DO YOU MEAN ITS TODAY-“ A blush rose upon your face in embarrassment. “Yes love,” Mikasa jokingly rolled her eyes at you coming over to you and kissing you, cupping your cheeks in her hands while staring at your shocked and nervous face. “I SWEAR TO THE WALLS ITS NEXT WEEK-“.

“That’s funny because the walls are no longer standing,” Mikasa remarked, teasing you.

“AHSTUDB TODAYS THE 8TH THOUGH WHAT DO YOU MEAN-“

“Today’s the 15th babe,” she kissed your forehead, ruffling your hair. “Oh- my- god-“

Sunlight shined in your face. Opening your eyes, you flipped over to your other side with a groan, sleepy and still tired. “You should start getting up babe, it’s almost twelve,” You heard your wife’s voice call out to you. “Mghh…. No…” you whined, “just a few more minutes,” the blonde sat at the vanity in front of the bed, she wore a lovely black dress that was a little bit longer than her knees.

Annie swiped on some lipgloss, smacking her lips together. “What are you getting dressed up for?” You asked her. Annie swung around in her chair and gave you a ‘wtf!?’ Look. “What the hell you mean ‘what am I getting ready for?’,” She mocked.

“Well you look really fancy and nice but why are you getting all dressed up? Especially at this day and hour..” you tucked the thick covers near your face, providing you with warmth. “Y/n are you fuckin’ serious,”

“Well yeah I mean I don’t get why you’re so dressed up you only do that on important days-“

“yeah like important days, LIKE OUR ANNIVERSARY!” she shouted and threw a plush bear at you, “Did you seriously forget!?”

“OWW WHAT THE- wait- ANNIVERSARY?!” You jolted up, eyes widened looking at the blonde. “yeah the fukin’ anniversary we have every year since we’ve been married!?” Annie said crossing her arms. “How the hell could you forget!” She scolded.

“NO IT’S THE 6TH TODAY OUR ANNIVERSARY’S THE 11TH’S!”

“DUMBASS IT IS THE 11TH-“ You both just stared at each other. “Oh my Gooddddd” Annie facepalmed. “Whatever I get to decide where we are eating now since you forgot,”

“BABY IM SO SORRY I THOUGHT IT WAS THE 6TH! I LOVE YOU!” You yelled at her as she slammed the door.

Pieck had been going all week. First with the many hours of training, next planning her little cousins birthday party, then having paperwork to sign and do as a person of the nine, and then babysit Friday, and even many more responsibilities she had to do. It was already Wednesday and she was burnt out so you decided this morning to make Pieck some breakfast in bed.

All week she had worked so hard and she deserves a little break, at least for today. ‘Hmm.. I’ll make Pieck an omelet wrap and pancakes, ’ you thought.

Grabbing all the ingredients, you started first making the egg, and adding in the cheese, ham, and cut up greens to the egg mixture. You cooked the omelet just the way she likes it and wrapped it up in a tortilla wrap.

You got started on the pancakes, adding in berries of sorts and flipping them to a golden brown. The day was calm and settling, so peaceful. You poured her a cup of iced coffee from the carton and then placed it on the tray along with the omelet wrap and pancakes.

(BRO I CANT EVEN WRITE COOKING- I SUCK THAT BAD AT IT 😭😭🔫)

You carried it upstairs and placed a little knock on the door before coming in. Your wife still laid asleep in bed, sleeping with her hair all messed up in her face, and her hands to her side. She truly looked like an angel.

“Peck~” you softly called out her name, placing the tray on the bed. “Love~”

Pieck moaned, exhaustingly. You softly pet the hair out of her face before waking her up with kisses. “Wake up dear,” you giggled as she tried moving her head away from your kissing parade. Your wife finally opened her eyes and stared at you. “Good morning baby~” you smiled at her, kissing her on the forehead. “Mmm… good morning..”

“Here you go love,” you handed her the tray full of food as she sat up. She smiled and giggled a bit wiping her eyes, adjusting to the light.

“That’s a sweet anniversary gift ,” she smiled before kissing your cheek. You smiled back at her only to just realize what she said, “wait, anniversary?”

She looked at you as she was placing a bit of the pancakes in her mouth, “huh? Yeah dear our anniversary, you remembered.. right?.. that’s why you made me breakfast?” She looked a bit confused. A blush or embarrassment rose up on your face, “WAIT ITS OUR ANNIVERSARY?!” You were shocked, looking at Pieck like you’d just seen a ghost. “Uh, yeah love hehe,” she chuckled, “you forgot?”

“NO NO I DIDNT FORGET I UHM- I-“

“It’s okay love,” Pieck giggled at your sight, “I almost forgot it myself! This weeks been way to busy,” she sighed. “PIECK BABY I AM SO SORRY I SWEAR TO YOU ILL MAKE IT UP TO YOU I PROMISE-“

“Love it’s okay!” Your wife laughed, “gosh I’m just happy we made it to three years,” she said jokingly. “I’m sorry really,” your eyes turned sad, “I thought today was the ninth I didn’t know it was the thirteenth,”

“It’s alright love, you can make it up to me by helping me finish this breakfast though!”

“HELLLOOOO MY (princess/prince/Royal)!” Your partner barged into your shared room, swinging open the curtains and blinds, making light come in through. “Ugh…. Hanji..” you groaned, “get the light out of my face…” you whined. “NO WAY!” She said, rummaging through your both’s closet. They then pulled out a lovely black dress. It had a glimmered diamond belt across the waist and a diamond rose at the belt.

(If you’re a male or don’t wear this type stuff, hanji pulled out a brown blazer that matches with their own, and an elegant watch with a chain necklace to go with it, along with the black pants and a black turtle neck to go under)

“Hanji… what are you doing..” you said, irradiated by all the noise. “Wake up! We are going to have the time of our lives out in town today!” She said, “Cant we do that tommorow…” you whined.

“UH- OH HELL NO- ITS OUR ANNIVERSARY AND WE’RE GOING IN TOWN!”

“Wait what-“ you said.

“Hm? What’s wrong?” Hanji questioned. You sat up straight in bed, “IT’S TODAY!?” you grabbed your phone scrambled to see the date, “May 24th” it read. “HUH!?”

“Y/N YOU FORGOT!?”

“I THOUGHT- I-“ you stood there in silence, questioning your existence (LMAO ME)

Your partner laughed at you, “HAHAHAHAH Y/N YOUR FACE, OH MY WALLS THIS IS THE BEST DAY EVER- HOW DID YOU FORGET AHHAHAHA,” The maniac laughed.

“But I-“

“HAHAHAHA ITS ALRIGHT BUBBABES WE’E JUST PARTYING TODAY,”

They cupped your cheeks that were bright red from embarrassment, looking you in the eye and smirking with a wink,

“But we’ll do more than party tonight,”

303 notes · View notes

cryingoverafictionalcharacter · 4 years ago

Text

Terrible Dancers

Prompt: You are spending the holidays at the burrow with George, Fred, Ginny and the golden trio. The house is packed most of the time, which is fine seeing you love everyone there *cough* especially Fred *cough* but when you get a chance of having some guaranteed alone time, you take it to your advantage. Only realizing you weren't totally alone when Fred comes downstairs to see you dancing around the living room in your pajamas, leading to a dance battle, laughing, and a confession.

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, cute things, that's it I thing?

A/N:Is this probably the lamest, most corny, most bazar fic I’ve ever written? Yes, but this idea came to me when I was listening to ABBA in the car and I couldn’t not write it, So there will be 80s muggle music references in this to give you the full ⭐experience ⭐ . Anyway I hope you all enjoy it! Feel free to leave any fic recs.

A/N2: I AM IN THE MIDDLE OF WRITING THIS AND OMG PLEASE PLAY THE SONG I’LL WRITE IN WHEN JUST OMG IM CRYING.

You were currently sat on on of the couches in the burrow, your legs kicked up in front of you as you read a book. It was one of the few times you were able to find some quiet in the burrow. You loved the burrow, you thought of it as your second home, but with Arthur, Molly, Fred, George, Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and yourself all staying for the Holidays, you had to admit it was a bit crowded.

However, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had least earlier in the day, saying they were running errands, which was probably code for doing something illegal, but you knew they were fine so you took the opportunity to finally catch up on a book Hermione had recommended to you.

After about an hour of reading, Molly walked in, greeting you with a smile that lit up the room. You smiled back, marking your place in your book and putting it down beside you.

“Hello dear, the boys and I were going to head off and do some last minute holiday shopping, would you like to join us?” She asked.

“I’ve gotten all my shopping done, so I think I’ll just stay in today if that alright?” You asked.

“Of course! Though you will be here alone, you know where everything is if you need something?” Molly asked, concern in her voice. You nodded.

“Yes, thank you” You smiled.

“Alright, we’ll be back by sundown, try to enjoy the peace and quiet” Molly joked, making you laugh.

“I will, have fun!” You said, watching as Molly left the room headed towards the fireplace, before opening your book again to continue reading.

It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes before you started feeling antsy. The house was quiet. Too quiet. The burrow was known for always being active and full of laughing, happy people, so now that the only sound in the whole house was the steady ticking of the clock, you had to admit, it was a little freaky being the only one here.

You quickly closed your book, and idea popping into your head. You decided to bring your Walkman when you left to go to the burrow just in case you ever needed to block out the noise. You hadn’t used it at all so far, and now seemed like the perfect time.

You ran upstairs into the room you were sharing with Ginny and Hermione, digging through your bag and pulling out the rectangular object. Your parents had made you a mixtape of your favorite songs before you left, and while you loved some popular wizard singers, you missed your music.

You ran back downstairs, putting the Walkman down and pressing play, the music instantly starting up, playing one of your favorite songs.

A Man After Midnight, by ABBA

You walked to the empty area in front of the couch and started to dance, swaying your hips a bit, before starting to sing the words.

“Half past twelve and I’m watching the late show in my flat all alone, how I hate to spend the evening on my own.”

As you were singing you started swaying around the room, grabbing your wand to use as a microphone, and continuing to get more and more energetic as the song went on.

“Is there a soul out there?”

You stopped moving just tapping your foot, slowly raising the hand that wasn’t holding the wand.

“Someone to hear my prayers........”

“Gimme Gimme Gimme a man after midnight!” You sang at the top of your lungs, jumping around the room and singing into your wand. You were so lost in the moment, you didn’t notice the figure walking down the stairs, until-

“Take me through the darkness through the break of the- JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!” Your singing was cut off by the sound of you screaming, well cursing, as you turned around to see Fred staring at you with a confused, half asleep look, a grin spread across his face. “What the fuck are you doing?” You practically yelled, running over to switch off your radio.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Fred laughed, the slight smile he had before now turning into a shit eating grin.

“You know, just.... dancing’” You said, desperately trying to act casual, like your crush of two years didn’t just walk downstairs, shirtless by the way, to see you dancing around like a maniac”

“I can see that. Its awful” Fred joked, making his way down the rest of the stairs and walking over to you.

“Shut up I’m amazing. Wait I thought you and your family were going out shopping” You said, suddenly remembering you were supposed to be alone.

“Yeah, George tried to make me to come along, but I didn’t wake up so my mum left a note” He said, sitting on the couch in front of you.

You nodded in understanding, trying your best to look Fred in the face, instead of letting your eyes wander to his hair which was currently sticking out in all directions. Or toward his chest which was currently bare exposing a constellation of freckles, or at how low his sweatpants were hanging-

“Earth to Y/N” Fred said, waving a hand in front of your face, snapping you out of your thought.

“Oh yeah, nice, cool” You said nodding, rocking back on your heels.

“What were you listening to, it doesn’t sound familiar?” Fred asked, leaning back on the couch.

“Oh, it’s a muggle band called ABBA, they’re basically music goddesses” You joked, walking over to your Walkman picking it up and handing it him.

“That's a lot of praise, considering your horrible taste in wizard music” He said, making you playfully swat his arm, a fake offended expression crossing your face before smiling, pressing the play button and continuing the song.

“Huh, its actually not bad, what else do you have on this?” He asked smiling.

You smiled back, taking back the Walkman and skipping to the next song, which happened to be “Africa” by Toto.

“This one’s really popular, I think you’ll like it” You said, setting down the Walkman and going to sit next to him.

As the music started I could see Fred starting to bob his Head to the beat.

“I like it so far” Fred said

An hour later, and you and Fred were dancing around the living room, singing at the top of your lungs.

“So you think you can stop me and spit in my eye!” Fred yelled

“So you think you can love me and leave me to die!” You sang back

“Ooooooh baby, don’t do this to me baby, just gotta get out, just gotta get right out of here” You both sang in unison, Fred playing an air guitar as you sang into your wand.

As the slow started to slow down, you both just started swaying, smiling at each other and catching your breath. Finally after a moment the song ended, making you both laugh.

“That ones my favorite so far” Fred said laughing, going to take a break and sit on the couch, you plopping next to him.

“Its a classic” You laughed, taking a deep breath, trying to cool down from the very intense dancing.

The next song started up and you instantly recognized it, practically lunging at the small radio to skip the song, but as soon as you hit the pause button, Fred snatched it out of your hands.

“Hey” You yelled, reaching to get the device back which Fred held over his head, making it hard to reach.

“What’s wrong with the next song?” Fred asked, making your face heat up a bit.

“It’s not really dancing music, my parents probably only added it on because they know it’s one of my favorites, but yeah it’s not that good we can skip it” You said quickly, attempting to get the radio back from Fred, but he still kept it over his head.

“Y/N, if you like it than I’m sure its great” Fred said smiling down at you. You let out a breath. You knew he wasn’t going to let it go until you played it.

“Fine” You said, Fred finally handing the radio back. You rewound the song so it would start from the beginning, before taking a breath, and pressing play.

*PLAY CAN’T HELPING FALLING IN LOVE BY ELVIS*

The music picked up, and with it your heartbeat, afraid of what Fred was going to say. You were internally panicking, playing one of the most iconic love songs ever written in front of your long time friend and crush.

You had been friends with this boy since first year. You might even go as far to call him your best friend. Sure there had been flirty moments but most of it was just kidding around, but this was different.

Before you could panic anymore though, Fred had stood up and turned to face you. A sly smile grew across his face before he held out his hand to you.

“Dance with me”

“...What?” you asked, eyes widening. Were you hearing this right?

“Dance with me” Fred repeated. So without thinking you took his hand and stood up.

He led you to the middle of the living room, moving to put your right hand on his shoulder, holding your left and resting his other hand on your waist, making your breath hitch in your throat.

“Trying to make a move on me Weasley?” You joked, trying to ease the tension.

“Maybe” He said smiling, but it wasn’t his usual joking smile, it was more sincere.

You started to sway to the music, laughing as Fred twirled you, your hand moving back to its original place on Fred's shoulder.

As the music continued to play, you couldn’t help but listen to the lyrics, while looking up at the boy you were dancing with, finding he was already looking at you.

“Like a river flows, surely to the sea, darling so it goes, some things are meant to be”

Fred suddenly wrapped his arm around your back, moving to dip you backwards, startling a laugh out of you, before he pulled you back up, pulling your chest closer to his, barely leaving any room between you to.

“For I can’t help, falling in love with you”

You moved your hand out of his, instead moving to rest your arms around Fred’s neck, Fred moving his now free hand to your other hip.

“Who taught you how to dance?” You jokingly asked, once again trying to relive the tension that had grown between you too.

“Would you believe me if I said I’m just a natural?” Fred smiled

“Definitely not” You smiled back, making a light chuckle leave his lips.

“Take my hand, take my whole life too, for I can’t help, falling in love with you”

“I think this might be my new favorite song” Fred said, making you roll your eyes but you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face.

“Why’s that” You asked, noticing how Fred’s demeanor seemed to get more serious compared to his usual playful attitude.

“Because it’s your favorite song, and you’re my favorite person” Fred said.

The butterflies that were in fluttering in your stomach before were now in a frenzy, your heart beating like crazy. You continued to sway to the music, slowing as the song finally stopped. Fred moved a hand up to move a strand of hair out of your face, before closing the space between you, connecting your lips.

You pulled him closer as well, kissing him back and moving your hands to his hair while his moved back to your waist. After a moment your finally pulled away, looking into each others eyes.

“You’re my favorite person too” You said, making the both of you smile.

“Is that the end of the tape?” Fred asked, noticing that the music wasn’t continuing.

“Yep, but I have another one one second” You said, moving out of Fred’s grasp to sprint up the stairs, Fred laughing behind you.

You came back downstairs, a new tape in ahnd. You quickly switched out the tack and pressed play, waiting for the music to start.

“Who did you say was your favorite person again?” Fred asked as you walked back over to him, laughing as you wrapped your arms around him. He moved to take a step back and stumbled, tripping over the book you had put down earlier, and because you were already holding him, you fell as well.

“Shit! Are you ok?” You asked, landing on Fred’s chest, looking up at his face to see him laughing, sending you into a fit of laughter as well, before you were both cut off by the sound of the Walkman playing that oh so familiar Saxophone.

You would have appreciated the irony, but before you could you heard the front door open, looking over to see Ron, Hermione, and Harry all looking at you... laying on top of a shirtless Fred..... with careless whisper playing in the background.

“It’s not what it looks like!” you said, quickly sitting up, Fred helping you to stand so you could turn off the music.

“My eyes!” Ron shrieked

“She fell we weren’t!-” Fred started.

“We don’t want to hear it pervs” Harry said, a slightly joking tone in his voice.

“For shame” Hermione said shaking her head disappointedly, but as the two other boys left towards their room, she gave you a quick thumbs up before running off as well.

You listened in silence as the three ran up the stairs, the door slamming behind them. There were a few seconds of silence between you and Fred, neither of you knowing how to process what just happened.

“You know, we could do what it looked like” Fred said slyly.

“Fred!”

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

A/N: I’m not going to lie, I think the ending is hilarious. Any who, I hope you enjoyed this super sappy, almost cringe worthy fic. Feel free to leave requests if you want.

#fred weasley #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley fic #fred weasley headcannon #fred fanfic #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n

278 notes · View notes

amelialincoln · 4 years ago

Text

Electric Love pt2

sorry im working on an amelink fic but its hard cause i have little to motivate me with. soooo here's marecal

They both awoke to the sound of an alarm blaring continuously over their heads. This happened on occasion and as terrifying as the situation was, the couple had almost gotten used to it. After the war the idea of democracy had been popular among the regions. With red and silver becoming equal, the solution had seemed obvious. But it would be wrong to say that the idea of everyone living in harmony was accepted by all. It was mostly the silvers that had an issue with it all, still craving the power they once had maintained. The small rebellion had formed about a year after the war, and raids had been happening throughout the palace almost every month since then. It was rare that anyone would come near their apartment but Cal had built an underground bunker just in case. The raids never resulted in much, other than terrifying those who lived there. Occasionally, they’d take a staff member or government official but eventually would set them free after their pleas went unanswered.

Mare stumbled out of their bed, still half asleep. However, Cal tugged at her arm, wide awake. He’d already secured his bracelets and a dim flame lit up their bedroom. He couldn’t help but worry that since word had gotten around about Mare’s pregnancy, they may somehow be a target. To which Mare had responded, days earlier, that no silver in their right mind would come anywhere near the two of them, in fear for their lives.

“Feeling nauseous?” He asked as she gripped the stair railing and swayed softly.

“When am I not,” she grumbled, following him down into the blackness. Cal sighed with relief as he bolted the door and pulled the string to an overhead light. The concrete room contained a double bed, a cabinet full of snacks and a pathetic sink that sat in the corner, almost always dripping. Mare crawled into the mess of duvet and leaned back against the bed frame. She was usually unfazed by the break-ins and normally slept through the entire event, unlike Cal who usually spent the night watching the door and allowing flames to creep across his fingertips. He glanced over to find her hands pressed against the small bump that had formed on her midsection earlier that week. Her first trimester was exhausting her and Cal had never felt more helpless.

“You should rest,” he noted. “Practice starts at six tomorrow because of the holiday on Monday.” He knew that despite tonight’s events there was no way that Mare would miss even an hour of training.

“I would lie down but I’m trying really hard to not throw up,” she responded slowly. Mare wasn’t known as a ray of sunshine when functioning on little sleep. “I would appreciate it if you could get your child to give me a break, Tiberias.” She tried to sound bitter but he could hear the fragility in her voice.

“Do you want the plain crackers? Those usually help,” he suggested.

“Do we have any down here?”

“No.” He expected her to yell at him but instead she leaned back in exhaustion.

“Can you just come sit with me?” Cal glanced over at her apprehensively, not wanting to leave his position by the door. Mare rolled her eyes at his hesitation.“Cal, for fucksake it’s absolutely fine--” As if on cue the sound of their apartment door banging open echoed through the flat. Mare fell silent as the sound of moving furniture filled their ears. Someone was looking for them. Anxiety raged inside her and lightning sparked on her palms, growing brighter by the second.

“Mare, control it,” Cal hissed. Her ability was becoming more and more unpredictable as her pregnancy went on, to the point where they were in the midst of getting a necklace made out of silent stone for moments like these. Cal couldn’t help but wish they’d had it by now.

“I can’t,” her voice wavered. The light above them brightened immensely before popping and surrounding them in blackness. Light bulb glass reflected red as Cal’s flames dimly lit the room. Mare silently prayed that her purple sparks would not reappear. “Do you hear that?” She asked, as a familiar voice called out to them, calling their names over and over. “It’s Gisa!” She moved to the side of the bed

“No Mare, it’s not.” Cal’s eyes darkened, willing her to lie back down.

“Cal, I think I would know my own sister--”

“It’s a voice manipulator, it’s trying to convince us to come out.”

“How do you know--” She wanted nothing more than to answer the voice calling out to her.

“Because I hear Maven,” Cal hissed, his eyes begging her to be quiet. Mare had never wanted to throw up more. She finally processed the idea of silvers rummaging through their apartment, playing tricks on their minds. Suddenly the situation was more nauseating than the smell of Cal’s green smoothies he’d been forcing her to drink lately. He noticed her gag and shot her a look of sympathy. Eventually the calling diminished and they heard less and less footsteps above, though neither of them wanted to go back upstairs. Eventually Mare fell asleep but Cal couldn’t bring himself to leave the door, waiting for the voice of his brother to return.

She awoke the next morning to find Cal missing from the bunker. A handwritten note was left on her pillow.

Mare,

Taking the kids up the mountain today. Don’t try and follow us, we'll be back soon enough. Rest and please just be safe.

Love, Cal

Classic. She threw her head back in frustration. Despite the break-ins being an inconvenience, they always put Cal on edge. She was surprised that he’d decided to let her out of his sight, even if it meant her getting some extra hours of sleep. She walked lazily up the stairs to find their apartment torn to shreds. Furniture was pushed over and destroyed. Picture frames had fallen off walls and glass lay shattered on the floor. Although she hadn’t been too involved in the design of their place, she couldn’t help but feel awful that all of Cal’s hard work had gone to waste. She smoothed the crinkled photos that had fallen out of their frames. Most were of her and Cal, apart from some of Mare’s family and Cal had one photo of Coriane, which he cherished greatly. She couldn’t help but grin at the thought of racing up the mountain to meet the group, the idea didn’t seem too bad to her. Undoubtedly would piss off Cal, which was always fun. She didn’t bother having breakfast, through trial and error she’d learned that eating before noon would result in an hour spent in the bathroom. Eventually, after a while of trying to tidy up the apartment, she was dying of boredom. She tied her hair back into a messy braid and pulled on her training uniform before swifty leaving the apartment, locking it behind her.

“Hey!” She whipped around to find Evangeline morphing the garden fountain into a rather inappropriate image. “Cal cleared my schedule to sit around and wait for you to try and leave.” She narrowed her eyes, obviously upset by her change in plans.

“That’s dumb,” Mare shrugged, turning to leave.

“He also lied about where he took the kids today. If you go up that mountain you aren’t going to find them.” Mare stopped in her tracks, cursing. “Why do you want to go so bad anyways?”

“Because what else am I supposed to do?” she huffed.

“Domestic life not treating you well?” Evangeline teased, Mare glanced up at her, realizing how much she had begun to miss everyone she’d gotten close with last year. She hadn’t seen Farely in what seemed like months.

“How’s Elane?” She changed the subject and Evangeline took the bait, never upset when speaking of her girlfriend.

“She comes to visit today,” her eyes lit up with excitement. “I’m going back with her in a week and then staying awhile. There isn’t much to do around here,” she admitted, Cal had mentioned that her ‘government’ role had been less riveting than she’d anticipated.

“Yeah, no kidding.” Mare couldn’t help but grin at the idea of Evangeline in a stuffy room talking about politics.

“He did seem shaken up this morning though. The raids were bad last night?” Mare could tell Evangeline was trying to keep her from leaving but at that point she didn’t care. There were twelve off campus training sites scattered over Montford and the group could be anywhere. She sat down on the edge of the fountain and tried to look as if she wasn’t bothered.

“They don’t usually search our apartment.”

“Ah,” Evangeline responded. “Probably something to do with the bun in the oven.” She gestured to the small bump that Mare had been desperately trying to hide with baggy clothing.

“I don’t know what they think they could possibly achieve by trying to harm either of us.” She rolled her eyes in annoyance.

“Yeah, it’s messed.” Evangeline bit her lip. “The group is expanding though. If you go downtown there’s signs up everywhere. The silvers aren’t happy.”

“You think after last year people would want a break from the violence.”

“I don’t know, would be nice to have a little fun.” The rings on her fingers were morphing into tiny daggers on her palms. Mare couldn’t help but laugh.

“You haven’t changed.”

“Have any of us, really?” Evangeline shrugged. “Come on, Barrow, I know you miss silver blood on your hands.”

“We crave the chaos now but the moment we’re back in it we’ll wish we savoured these moments.” She shook her head but couldn’t suppress the rush of euphoria that passed over her as she imagined what Evangeline was suggesting.

“You think there will be another war?” Evangeline’s voice was hushed, as if someone was listening in on the pair’s conversation. Mare nodded grimly.

“Cal’s been seeing Julian almost every night. I can tell they’re hashing out the beginnings of some plan. He’s been downplaying the silver’s revolt. I don’t know why he’s treating me like I’m too weak to handle the truth.”

“Probably doesn’t want to stress you out.” Evangeline brushed a piece of her frizzy blond behind her ear and smirked as she watched Mare gag at the idea of her condition was making her incompetent. “Just go,” she finally caved. “They’re at the training centre in Elm.” Evangeline chuckled as the lightning girl’s eyes lit up with delight. “Tell him I told you and I’ll give the silvers a key to your underground bunker,” she added darkly, trying to hide her amusement.

“I wouldn’t put it past you.”

Judging from the time of day the group would probably be on their trek back by now. Mare decided to go anyways. The idea of getting a rise out of Cal was too appealing to pass up. He deserved it for treating her like she was useless. The dirt road was longer than she remembered or maybe she was just more out of shape than the last time she’d run it. She pushed herself faster at the thought. It took a lot for someone to sneak up on Mare. Cal failed miserably almost every day. Which is why, when she was pulled back suddenly, she froze in shock rather than fought back. Before she could react a knife was pressed to her neck and it drew a small amount of blood that began to pool under her chin. She felt the silent before it even started reaping her ability from her, tugging her strength away.

“Not so powerful now, sparks.” She could hear the enjoyment in the unfamiliar silver’s voice and wanted to spit at the nickname. The knife, however, permitted her from doing such.

“I’ve got guards watching me,” she forced out a lie. “Letting me go would be a smart move.” To her dismay the group of silvers only chuckled.

“Look Red Queen, you're the issue here. You’re the reason that reds think they can waltz into our cities and act like they aren’t the worthless vermin that they are. You may have deceived the prince but there’s no mistaking your true intentions.” Mare couldn’t begin to guess what they were talking about.

“He’s not your prince anymore.” Was all she could think of to say. Cal didn’t want anything to do with the crown anymore, or so she hoped.

“And that’s where you're wrong.” The new silver’s voice was calm and poised. “Tiberias Calore VII has been working to revise the new laws. The democratic system is flawed. It’s only a matter of time before it splits. Your boyfriend is working hard to fix the damage you caused.”

“That’s not true.” She could hear the falter in her own voice.

“So that leaves you as the problem. A red can never sit on a silver throne.” Mare could feel the knife digging deeper into her skin.

“I don’t want your stupid throne.” She managed to kick her leg back, connecting with the soft area that she’d been aiming for. The man yelped in pain, allowing the knife to drop. Mare whirled around to find a larger group than she’d expected. As the sky began to darken she noticed a line of sweat was starting to form on the silent’s forehead.

“Get her in the vehicle,” the woman ordered, Mare could sense the weakness in her voice knowing she wouldn’t last for much longer. She could feel the static energy increasing in the air, begging to strike. The men came at her quickly. She dodged the first couple easily but more kept advancing. The silent held on to her dismay and eventually she was surrounded. It was the knife guy that hit her first, undoubtedly holding onto some sort of resentment. After that the rest was blurry until she doubled over in pain and blackness invaded her vision.

#marecal #marecal fanfic #marecalfanfic #marebarrow #mare barrow #tiberias calore #evangeline samos #redqueen #red queen #red queen fanfiction #victoria aveyard

37 notes · View notes

lipstickbisous · 5 years ago

Text

the rei brown series (2/3)

OUR LOVE REMAINS.

notes: here’s the second part!! one more after this haha. not much of a plot to these just meant to put you in your feels. butttttt, i did write this from the experience my mom had in the icu when she was a nurse.

this one is your p.o.v. and is a little bit longer but not much

i DID NOT KNOW if anyone would get offended by “latino” or “hispanic” so i used both im sorry.

LISTEN for better understanding.

also u guys REALLY LIKED the din fic so i guess...more of those?

pairing: javier peña x reader

summary: while rethinking all of the choices you’ve made in your life, memories of a certain person begin to flood in.

warnings: MORE ANGST ahahaha, childhood nostalgia, fluff ending

word count: 3.3k (these are not long chapters)

masterlist

you weren’t sure what time it was (you knew it wasn’t too late) and you hadn’t bothered to check as you stumbled through your doorway, one arm holding grocery bags and the other, your purse and papers from work. your hair had been stuck in the ponytail you threw it up in since the morning, but now, it was pulling at your scalp and giving you a headache.

managing to balance on one foot, you flipped the light switch in your entryway and watched as the first floor of your house illuminated in the night. the tiny dog you’d adopted a few months ago came padding out on the wood floors from the dining room, his tongue stuck out with loud pants to relieve himself of the texas summer heat.

with a small “hey, bub,” to your pet, you placed the groceries on the kitchen counter and slipped off your clogs, throwing them at the bottom of your stairs so that you could be reminded to take them to your room when you went upstairs. for now, you reached into the glass cabinet and grasped a dark bottle of wine. the label read a fancy word in french, but growing up in kingsville, you’d never bothered to learn the language of love. you grew up in that rich latino and hispanic culture.

this house had memories threatening to let it crumble, you knew that, but even after your parents had moved into a smaller apartment due to medical reasons and the fact that they couldn’t afford the house, you couldn’t bring yourself to move out of this town and just ditch them there--now the house was in your name. you didn’t know why it was so hard to leave--you’d been able to leave for university, but when you came back the summer after you’d graduated, something stuck. now, it had been twenty years and you had made no attempts to even leave kingsville.

you popped the cork of the wine bottle open and instantly met that musky historic smell of the red alcohol. you had seven wine glasses in your cupboards, but you never had any friends over. you might occasionally invite a few girls you knew in high school, but if you were to hang out with people, it would be at a bar on friday and saturday nights. you watched as the wine splashed around the glass and when it was filled to your satisfaction, you pushed the cork back into its place and left the bottle on the counter.

as you made your way into the living room and collapsed on the couch, the little dog you called yours jumped up onto the high furniture the best he could due to his tiny legs. you searched your couch for the remote, pulling over the cushions and pillows before finding it buried under the arm. you switched the tv on and and flipped through the channels before settling on fifty-one. your dog curled up next to your lap and closed his eyes to sleep.

you didn’t for what you were sure was the next two hours. the movie that had been playing before ended the beginning of a new one had started until you realized your glass was empty and dry and your eyelids were getting heavier. you leaned your head back before rethinking how the day had gone. you’d shown up to the hospital for work at the crack of dawn and spent the next twelve hours wheeling around patients, taking diagnostics, and carrying their dirty dishes.

it definitely had not been the job you imagined when you were ten. you’d played doctor with your stuffed animals and plushes before but in those scenarios, the patients had been obedient in kind. unfortunately, fate had not been so kind and, while sitting in front of the television with an empty wine glass in your hand, your fingers grazing over the sore spot on your wrist. it was sure to be bruised, the one on your calf had turned purple and yellow in the past few days. you hissed when you applied just a bit too much pressure.

i spent four years at a college i hated to have this. you’d put it all on the line to have this job. you thought that by being a nurse in the fucking icu, you’d be saving people everyday. instead, you were groped, spat out, and ignored by everyone there. you deserved a glass of wine every night.

you knew that this was not healthy at all and that you were intoxicating yourself with far too much alcohol but the way your back ached, your calf bruised, and your head pounded drowned out whatever warnings your brain sent you.

suddenly, you managed to catch sight of the atomic clock sitting on your kitchen counter. bright crimson letters read “1:30 am.”, and with a far too heavy sigh that awoke the small dog next to you, you set the glass on your coffee table (you’d grab it in the morning when you weren’t so sad) and flipped the tv off before sauntering up the stairs. even at your age, you had still been terrified of the dark--you could barely walk down to your basement without a flashlight and by yourself--but you found that you were perfectly fine walking in the pitch-black of your upstairs hallway. your dog was quick to follow behind you, jumping onto your bed and waiting for you as you emotionlessly entered your bathroom and looked at your reflection.

who the fuck were you? how much time had passed and yet here you were, in your fucking childhood home all alone? you’d found love with many men over the years, but you hadn’t expected them to last--and they hadn’t. what had you done? had you left some sort of imprint in the world at all? you were never one for kids, everyone you knew was well aware of that, but how were you supposed to live on even when you were dead? in reality, abandonment and loneliness was your worst fear along with--

oh god, you thought in a shriveled voice. you’re gonna be forgotten.

one part that hurt the most was the news. you’d gotten better at keeping up to date with pop culture and politics, and the pablo escobar situation had you worried for one reason and one reason only--javier peña. you’d seen him on the news, the DEA agent who had made it his responsibility and top priority to catch the famous drug lord. it was nice to see that he had gotten somewhere while the only time you’d ever really traveled was to paris for a christmas and then LA to see an old friend who you didn’t even talk to anymore.

this was your life now. mindlessly wandering around your house after work, eating microwaved leftovers and carry-out from the diner.

god, that diner. it had been one of your favorite locations in the shitty town you called home--had been. the first time you went, you were suspicious due to the fact that the actual building was a different restaurant owned by a criminal before it was a diner, but javier had practically begged you to have a late dinner with him after an afternoon spent skipping your last few periods and driving around the outskirts of town in his truck. the wind had been blowing through your hair and you hung your head out of his window, letting your arms wave around, and you could’ve sworn you had felt him looking at you.

that was the moment you were in love with javier peña.

you knew that you had been lying to yourself up until that moment because since the first day you met javier when driving past their ranch and stopping to look at the horses, you’d been in love. you couldn’t even think about how many days were spent writing poetry about him that now seemed stupid and childish. you’d told yourself it was an outlet for your feelings, but you had really written it because you were too much of a bitch to come out and tell javi. maybe that hadn’t been your fault--you’d witnessed, first hand, javier rejecting a girl in sixth grade. you watched her nod and tell him “oh, that’s okay” but then run away into the bathrooms. javier had continued on to tell you about a new foal on their farm.

you remembered the horses. you missed them too. if it hadn’t been them roaming about in the pastures, or the great stallion that caught your attention while on that family car ride, you would’ve never met javier. you weren’t sure if he judged you for it or not, but every time chucho needed help around the farm, and javier was too much of a brat and a teenager to do it, you had gladly offered. so, chucho peña had put you in charge of the foals. there was one in particular, a small one with a white coat, that had piqued your interest. there was a day, one in the middle of the summer if you could remember correctly, where you and javi had just run out to the fields while the rest of the horses stayed in their stables. javi had been excited since his father had gifted him with a new camera, and he had spent all day taking pictures of--and to this day, you still didn’t notice it--only you.

while brushing your teeth, carefully placing a small dot of paste on your toothbrush, you began to scrub in small circles. how long had it been since you and javi had last talked? even then, it had barely been a conversation. a simple exchanged of very few words, a goodbye that went misheard, and that was it. when you had called his home phone the next morning, instead of javi replying like he always did, it had been chucho’s voice instead, muffling an annoyed “hello?” but when he heard the exhaustion and lightness of your voice, he carefully explained that javi had already left.

you hadn’t felt heartbroken--not at first. in fact, there was barely any sadness in that tired head and upset stomach. you were infuriated. how could he? how dare he? he had been such a coward that he couldn’t even say goodbye and it angered you more than you thought it ever would--not that you had ever thought about javier leaving before because he said he wouldn’t even consider it. and now, he had left you alone your fucked up hometown that you’d always told him you hated so much. then, about three days alone without javier (which was something you weren’t used to) you’d realized that there was a large possibility this could’ve been your fault.

had you been a bad friend recent to his leaving? yes, you had been acting distant, but it was due to normal events, such as school and...the fact that you were hopelessly in love with him. it had been harder to talk with senior year ending and college coming up, but you hadn’t never thought he could just turn himself away like that. never.

and not once had javi tried to contact you. he, of course, knew your number by heart, but after all these years, he’d probably had hundreds of girls phone numbers--in fact, you were sure that if hadn’t been a DEA agent hooked with the most dangerous man on the earth, you would’ve expected him to be married already. you had gone to the wedding. you’d seen how the church was decorated, how each and every guest wore plastered smiles--just the idea of seeing javi made you giddy and you’d worn your best dress you could find. even after returning from university, javier didn’t visit or call. you also remembered hearing lorraine sobbing when her groom didn’t show.

javier was not the type of person to stand someone up. you didn’t know what he was like now, but as teenagers, if he ever had a date (which wasn’t often because even if you didn’t know it, he was hopelessly in love with you) he would arrive five minutes early.

the one time javi did have a date, you stayed home and watched one of his favorite movies while crying. you hated to admit that the next day, when he admitted to you he didn’t like the girl that much, you were excited.

suddenly, you remembered how this was completely your fault. you had always blamed javier for never calling or writing, but then you realized that you had never made the attempt either.

“fuckin’ hell,” you whispered and washed off your toothbrush. as a nurse, you didn’t normally cake yourself with makeup, but you did wear the average concealer, mascara, and lipstick or gloss. you took one look at your reflection and noticed that your mascara was currently running. when did i cry? you asked yourself and exited the bathroom, not bothering to remove your makeup.

your room was next door and when you walked inside, your dog was patiently waiting next to your nightstand and- god, did i leave the fucking light on again? you felt like slapping yourself until your head was straight because it wasn’t right to think about someone you haven’t seen in twenty years.

you slipped off your pants, leaving you in expensive panties you’d gotten for no reason at all. you threw off your scrubs, discarding them onto the floor with a light air sound and replacing your shirt with a tank-top. your bed had been so perfectly made that it almost annoyed you. you threw yourself onto your bed and began to rub your eyes. it wouldn’t matter if you messed up the mascara because there was nothing to mess up.

hoping the sleep would rid you of the horrible thoughts, you flipped the lamp next to your bed off and pressed a pillow to your cheek. the small dog at your feet curled up rested his eyes. you did the same.

it would’ve been physically best for your health if you had gone at least six hours of sleeping without any interruption, but one moment in the night, the phone on your nightstand began to blare its ringtone. your eyes shot open and began to burn slightly from a sudden awakening. the sound had scared your dog, who jumped to the ground in protection of whatever the source was until he realized it was the telephone. you groaned with heavy eyelids and looked to the clock. two-twenty five am. as soon as you went to answer the call, it went to dial tone.

more frustrated than before because you really just wanted to sleep, you groaned and flung yourself back into bed. of course, now you were awake.

but then, the phone began to ring again. it had seemed louder this time and your dog barked in the most un-intimidating way possible before you threw a pillow at the spot next to him to get him quiet. you held the phone close to your ear and spoke a tired, “hello?” the line was silent and at first, you were terrified because you could’ve sworn you heard someone breathing. another one of these. “hello?”

part of this was exciting to you. while it was extremely frustrating to be awoken a few hours before you normally rose to get ready for work, your mind was racing during the silent pause between you and this stranger. who could it be? perhaps it was chucho telling you that javier could be coming home, but you cursed yourself for thinking of that man and dismissed the idea. maybe it was your mom calling to tell you how your father had gotten better and, for now at least, the cancer was gone.

“(y/n)?”

―

while the reason behind it remained unclear, you had always loved airports. the cleaning-product smell, the diverse people, the small restaurants, even the feeling of the carpet--or the feeling of that when in an airport, you were going somewhere.

it had always been about going somewhere. javier knew this since fifth grade, that you had always wanted to just leave kingsville, texas. maybe you would move to new york, or philadelphia, or even go to london and paris. they had been silly daydreams due to reading too many of your mother’s travel books, but paris had always looked so nice. maybe even visit mexico--you’d already been well immersed in the culture.

but that wasn’t why you were here. you were here for something that was long overdue.

after the phone call that night, you javier had made sure to call each other every other day at ten o’clock pm. there had been some days where you had to stay late at the hospital or javi was chasing sicarios and didn’t get home until midnight--those nights, you would either fall asleep or just call the next day, but you both had made a good schedule. it definitely hadn’t been the same as when you were teenagers, and you didn’t expect it to be. his voice was much deeper and raspier (you knew it was because of the cigarettes, you could practically smell them through the phone) and his voice wasn’t as...lively anymore. you felt that you couldn’t say much, though, because the years had been rough to you as well.

he had told you everything. your thoughts on how he was living was wrong--he told you of the countless informants and prostitutes, how the colombian sun was definitely hotter than the texan sun and even to him it had made a difference. when you both had too much to drink and were passing back funny stories, his was that he had grown a mustache. you had laughed at that one because if you could imagine the clean-shaved, teenage boy that javier once was with a mustache, it was a hilarious thought.

all-in-all, it had still been painful to talk to someone you knew so well like they were a stranger. at first, you had asked yourself if he’d changed but you caught yourself in the stupid thought. of course, he had changed. it had been twenty fucking years and even you had noticed the faint lines starting to appear around your face.

it had taken almost half a year of phone calls, missed and attended, happy and sad to be where you were now.

the airport bustling had also been one of your favorite things too. the countless and various voices all coming together to make a white noise that was so distinct.

you were standing near the entrance, watching as families reunited, lovers embraced, and yet you stood alone. it had been over ten minutes since when javier was supposed to show. if you were being honest with yourself, what did you expect? he would just appear out of thin air in the middle of a crowd? you hoped the flight from bogotá had been peaceful and well. there hadn’t been any storms passing by, baggage loading problems, or anything that could possibly delay the plane, so there was no reason for javier not to be there.

unless...you began to think and it had been too late to stop yourself from completing the thought. maybe he just didn’t want to.

like when he rejected that girl in sixth grade. like when he left you alone in kingsville. like when abandoned his bride at their own fucking wedding.

suddenly, you felt angry. your blood was boiling, your hands felt hot, the hair on your neck became irritating, and the winter heat of texas began to scorch, even in air conditioning. you ran a hand down your face, feeling two beads of sweat trickle down a path to your chin. your foot, which had been tapping for the past now fifteen minutes turned on its heel as you made your way to the glass doors.

your car was just outside. you wouldn’t even have to walk that far, and then you could drive home, cry yourself to sleep, and call javier about this some other time.

“(y/n)!”

tags: @pascalisthepunkest @javierpenaspinkshirt @gummiishark @cyarikaaa @larakasser @pedropasscals @honeyedspace @talesfromtheguild @absurdthirst

45 notes · View notes

phonecallwithsatan · 4 years ago

Text

just look for my owl (three)

a.n. : I am in awe that there are TEN of you that follow me. I don’t even care if I get bullied for geeking out over ten followers. I’m so happy and glad you all enjoy what i’ve written. My lovelies, here is chapter three of this series. I think its getting interesting but im too scared to add mature stuff in here because i dont know how you all will react. Look at me, speaking to my ten followers. It’s a press conference at this point. Chap. four is soon to follow tonight so please keep out for that! This fic is a they/them reader, so I will only refer to you as they/them. 3k words, fred weasley x y/n, enjoy!<3

Our beloved Fred Weasley falls for Ilvermorny student [y/n] [l/n]. He’s determined to get to them, but the only way he can is through post sent through the two. The only thing left for the pair is to just look for an owl.

Check out chapter two before you read this!

☾

It had been four days since that owl came in to deliver Fred Weasley’s Professor a parcel from [Y/n l/n].

It had been four days since Fred hadn’t stopped thinking about [y/n].

Luckily, no suspicions from his professor were brought up about the missing photo, and he was glad. The professor even came in during his quidditch practice to chat with the students cheerfully, even taking a few photos of the team as a whole and separately.

Today was the 31st of October, and the Triwizard champions were chosen shortly after Fred began to dig into his food, irritated at the interruption that faced him.

Or maybe he should say the Quartet champions now that Harry was facing the tournament too.

Dinner wrapped up a bit after that, and the two twins carried on to their dorms surprisingly silent the whole way. Not causing any ruckus or speaking even.

Perhaps it was because they were disappointed at the selection of Harry even though he was younger than the two twins. They could have had a chance now that he was chosen, but Fred knew that it wasn’t about that.

He didn't know about his twin at the moment, normally he does, but Fred was in a hurry to get to his dorm and sleep, as he had no homework.

Everyday for these past four days, Fred has dreamed about [y/n]. Dreaming, thinking, pondering, it was all connected to them. Not a particular storyline, not at all, his dreams were more of the idea of a real-life physical them.

[y/n] in his jumper, [y/n] in Hogwarts robes, their hand in his under the table during dinner at the great hall, how they would say his name in any context. His thoughts were severely occupied with them and Fred was okay with that.

These ideas followed their way through the portrait hole, into the Gryffindor common room, and up the stairs to the boys dorm.

He had yet to wash himself off after his long day, so Fred went off to the left side of the dorm to access his trunk at the end of his bed. He takes out a simple orange towel and closes the chest up. He then takes off his sweater vest only to place it on his bedspread.

Walking over to his bedside table, Fred decides to let [y/n] take a dip into his daydreams as he looks in his drawer for the photo of them.

No, thinks Fred. No, no, no, no, no, cascading words now fill Fred’s brain as he panics about the fact that his polaroid was missing.

The polaroid of [y/n] was now missing from Fred’s bedside table, confused as to how exactly he misplaced something so golden.

His whole dresser was obviously rummaged through. There were a few sickles missing along with an extra jar of ink and- his stash of Fizzing Whizzbees and Jelly Slugs. He genuinely frowned at the candy more than anything else, but then he remembered about the photo that was missing- stolen now.

Fred whipped his head back to see who was in the boys’ shared dorm, and the only person he saw was his twin chatting with a visiting fifth year student.

Now completely turned, Fred walks to the front of his bed and pulls out his trunk, wondering if he had left it in there by accident, but it was no luck.

“George,” started Fred with his back to his twin.

George turned to his brother.

“What is it, Fred?” He asked with confusion. He noticed the drawer hanging on by a thread off the rest of the table and decided to completely disregard his conversation at that point. “I’ll catch you later.”

As the friend walks out of the boys’ dormitories, Fred begins to explain what had happened, hand motions waving around. They usually appear when there is something wrong.

“Someone rummaged through my stuff,” Fred motions to his dresser, “did you let anyone else come in here and mistake it for yours?”

George looked at his twin with furrowed brows until his face lightened up a bit from the clarity.

“Yeah, actually. Cedric Diggory from Hufflepuff was in here and he asked me for some ink.”

“George, what the hell.” Fred was beyond confused as to what, first of all, Cedric Diggory, one of the Triwizard champions, was doing in the Gryffindor common room. Why he was needing ink in the middle of the day and why his drawer. “You let him go through it? Half of my items are missing.” Fred was furious at how irresponsible his brother was at the moment.

“He was desperate and I felt bad.” A simple response from a boy with little to no empathy when it came to using a twelve-year-old student as a lab rat for their inventions. A particular unnamed candy that is still a work in progress gave her severe diarrhea for weeks straight.

“George, he stole money, candy, and t- What is wrong with you?” He cut himself quick before he could expose [y/n] to his brother. He was mad at him and now was not the time to gush about them.

“It’s fine, we’ll talk to him tomorrow.” George laughs at his twin for being unmanageable, but Fred is unamused.

“Piss off.” Fred takes his towel and goes town to the bathrooms, bringing a change of clothes with him.

☾

Fred was a bit after hours for students, but he couldn't wait to get the bath located in the prefect's bathroom.

Yes, Fred had snuck in there, but that's because the boys’ dormitory bathroom was disgustingly filled with too many boys in one perimeter. So with this in mind, Fred knew exactly where to go to relax from the fuming that happened between himself and his brother.

Fred dropped his towel by the edge of the water and took off his shoes. Setting them neatly by the towel, he began to work on his shirt. He loosened his tie but not all the way so the loop in it would stay. He began to unbutton his shirt, hands working a bit slower than normal. He did not come here often, nor was he a prefect, so he took his time.

He looked up from his hands and Fred looked at the mermaid mural on the stained glass, thinking of [y/n], the beauty remarkable from either photo. Not that Fred was comparing physical features from the mermaid and from [y/n], he was rather just acknowledging how both were, to put it literally, breathtaking.

The colors from it shaded his body in colors of pinks and blues, diluting a bit now that the white shirt was shrugged off his body. The color was not as vibrant now, but his light skin and freckles that were splattered all over his chest created a new palette of shades.

He dropped his shirt on top of his other items and he undid his belt, leaving it on the belt loops of his pants as he takes them off as well, folding them up unlike his shirt and dropping them on his pile of clothes. All he had left were his boxers, and they were soon added to the tower of items on his right side.

He stepped into the water while simultaneously checking for any other visitors. It was a bit late for that, though, considering that he was completely exposed at that point.

The moonlight shone through the glass, some areas of the floor painted colors with the light. The water was flowing from a few taps and bubbles were flying everywhere. Fred shifted a bit from his old placement in the giant pool so his arms were now propped on the edge.

Now with the photo in the hands of a certain someone he considered a snake, even though they were in Hufflepuff, Fred needed to confront Cedric for not only his money, his candy, and his ink without consent, Fred needed to confront him about [y/n]. What kind of a freak just steals a photo?

Oh, thought Fred.

What if, somehow, Cedric gets a hold of [y/n]? Impossible, he reassured himself. Cedric doesn't even know their name. He knows nothing. He's a loathsome rat who steals money, candy, ink, and photos.

Smiling to himself for coming up with that description, Fred quickly goes down the same road again.

What if, somehow, [y/n] likes him, instead? What if- His mind was filled with ‘what-ifs’ and ‘somehows’ that clouded his brain. Cedric shouldn't have been running through his mind regardless. There’s just no possibility where [y/n] would even meet him.

He was consumed with someone who did not know he existed Fred was jealous that someone else was in possession of that photograph.

The only way to eliminate Cedric was to get to [y/n] first, and he knew his plan from the moment he saw their photo.

He was going to catch his professor at the owlery in the castle, and sneak his own letter in there. This way, both parcels would miraculously be carried over the Atlantic ocean.

His professor wouldn't notice and hopefully [y/n] wouldn't be too freaked out.

The tap finished spewing water and the room went silent except for a few drips coming from one of the spouts. Fred estimated his time and decided to waste none of it, so he dunked his head underwater out of impulse and came back up with his hair sticking to his forehead.

He needed to write.

☾

Fred was now back in his common room sitting on a couch with his parchment spread out over his legs and couch, and his wet hair slowly dripping on it, making the ink smear a bit. He had crumpled up at least five different drafts of a few sentences while sitting there.

He was wearing grey pants and a gryffindor jumper, keeping him warm on the first day of November. It was about one at night and he could hear his brother, Ron Weasley, snoring from the upstairs dorms.

He dug up a few polaroids he had taken with his brother at the beginning of the year to drop in the parcel. Fred had decided to make this out to his mother, Molly Weasley, hence the photos would have been for her. Molly wanted photos taken with their new camera and photos of their new brooms for Quidditch being put to use properlly.

Normally, Fred didn't really use muggle instruments, but he did have a shared camera with his twin, George. Luckily, a shop in Hogsmeade sold refills for it.

And they would have, Fred and George ended up taking photos of themselves during Quidditch practice, making sure to hide the camera from teachers and spectators so it wouldn't be taken away. Snape would make it his life goal to snatch it away from them when really it did no harm. They took photos of their jerseys, the field, a few separates, a few with the team, and two separate ones of the twins. They were planning to give them to their mum, but these photos would be put to use differently.

It was a brilliant plan in his eyes. [y/n] would surely respond to his so-called mistake, right? Hopefully they would send a letter back, and maybe a few polaroids for himself to keep. It’s brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.

Fred began his sixth attempt at writing out a letter to his own [y/n].

Mum,

We miss the burrow. And you and dad, of course.

As promised, the photos. We think you’ll really enjoy these, since you probably miss our ravishing looks.

There’s not much to write about, mum. Ginny is okay, Ron is alright, and George is asleep somewhere right now. Otherwise, they would have scribbled something on here.

Fred

It was too short but he couldn’t think of anything else to write to his mum. She had written to Ginny a few days prior so he had given all viable information to Ginny’s response letter.

He reacted quickly to the water that dripped off his hair and snatched the parchment before it could bleed and combine with the ink. The script was perfect, absolutely incomparable to his other drafts.

Time moved fast and it was now two in the morning. Fred took his parchment and placed it neatly in the parcel. He took his stack of polaroids and placed them in the parcel.

Almost forgetting, Fred searched through the polaroids and found the two individual snapshots of the twins in their uniforms. Molly constantly mixed the two up when they wore their quidditch uniforms, always forgetting who was #5 and who was #6. Their own mother. It severely got worse every year.

From totally forgetting to absolutely forgetting, Fred forgot that this letter wasn’t even going to reach his mother. He had already marked up the photos though, that was just an afterthought.

He looked at the photo of himself and his twin standing in front of the center field, astonished as to how clear it was. He could see his features perfectly unlike the photo he previously had of [y/n] that was blurry but nonetheless readable.

Shoving the photos back into the parcel, he wrapped it up nicely and carefully wrote the address of the burrow on it.

His plan was slowly coming into action, and Fred was just excited to see it play out.

☾

Fred had ended up spilling everything to his twin the day he planned to sneak his letter along with McGonagall’s.

“So you have no clue who [y/n] is, and you’re providing photos of you and your friends to this person, might I add again, who you don’t know? Fred, this is ridiculous.” George was talking to his twin in the corridor right before the owlery as they were both waiting for the professor to return with a response letter. Fred had been holding onto the parcel for a few days now, and yesterday, he saw that familiar brown owl arrive again.

McGonagall greeted the owl mid-class and took the letter in hand to place it safely in her desk. The owl remained on the window perch for the rest of class.

Fred wasn’t able to see who sent it, but he knew that owl all too well to be mistaken for someone else owling his Professor.

Just as Fred was about to respond to his brothers snarky question, they heard footsteps down the hall and they began to walk up to the owlery.

They had decided to distract McGonagall with a familiar owl, Hedwig. Harry had been complaining how she had been squawking too much for normal. Harry wouldn’t mind, though, because he never had to know that his owl was involved in a hopelessly romantic ploy.

Fred and George were now in the owlery next to Hedwig, feeding her snacks they had brought for compensation. It was only fair to her that she got something in response. A few strange squawks escaped her beak.

“Good morning Mr. and Mr. Weasley. Are you writing someone?” McGonagall was an expert at knowing who was who just off the back of their heads. Granted, she could probably tell the two apart without them turning around.

“Just paying a visit to Hedwig here, professor. We need to get going soon.” George glanced at Hedwig mid-sentence and gave the professor a small smile.

Their plan was failing terribly. McGonagall was getting her owl ready for the journey by winding the ribbon around its leg to hold the letter more in place.

Normally, Fred and George would just place a note in Errol's beak, but since it was a longer distance they would have to find a way to tie it around the owls leg.

Luckily, Hedwig served as an amazing distraction as she began to choke and squawk on the snacks they were giving her. It was a time of crisis but the twins had to act fast.

McGonagall turned to the twins and quickly discarded her owl to help them. She pushed them aside and began to aid the choking owl, George began to laugh a at the visual of an owl choking, but quickly put it away as he got a scolding look from McGonagall, who was now shaking the owl.

Fred used this distraction to run over and tie his letter to the owls leg, attaching his and his professors letter to the owl. The animal began to flap its wings, confused as to why an unknown ginger was picking at his feet, but Fred was too busy to yell at it.

By attaching his letter to McGonagall’s owl, Fred didn't need to get authorization from someone to send it. He also did not have to get it searched, as he was sneaking it through.

He turned to see George motioning him to hurry, laughing at the same time because his professor was still talking to the bird, trying to get it to stop choking.

Fred was able to tie the letters successfully and shooed the owl quickly, noticing how the two letters weighed it him down a little, making Fred laugh too. He didn’y understand how he pulled it off, but he was happy it worked- somewhat. The owl was steadily flapping it’s wings but Fred could see that it wasn’t used to that type of weight on its feet.

He speed walked back to his professor who was oblivious as to what happened behind her back. The twins were wrong for laughing at the McGonagall who wanted to just help them deal with the animal cruelty they put on Hegwig, but it was a visual they would never forget. And truly, it was a little funny and dramatic.

Fred wondered again how the hell his absurd plan worked, but he was glad that he was able to send out the parcel, and avoid murdering his friends owl with food.

“There, girl. You’re alright. You spit out.” McGonagall consoled the owl by patting her head. She turned to the twins and scolded them for being so irresponsible with someone else's owl.

“Potter doesn’t know, does he?” She asked.

The two twins looked at eachother and ran off laughing, leaving McGonagall clueless to everything that just happened.

Soon after that, Fred realized that he had just created the beginning of something new in his life. Something that he had yet to receive not in person, but rather in a form of a letter.

All he had left to do was look for that Brown owl.

#fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #fred weasley #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley x gender neutral reader #fred weasley series #hogwarts #harry potter fanfic #goblet of fire #goblet of fire fred weasley

12 notes · View notes

hashtagartistlife · 5 years ago

Text

Maybe fate was called fate because some things weren’t choices; some things were simply written into his DNA, woven into the very fabric of the universe. World orders. The sky is blue. The sun is hot. He is in love with Kuchiki Rukia.

Kuchiki Rukia is dying.

Ten years after the defeat of Yhwach, it’s time Ichigo and Rukia started facing some truths— about the world, about themselves, and about each other.

this is all i have of this fic for now (this and a tiny little bit of chapter 3), i guess it’ll be updated when i woman the fuck up and wrack up enough nerves to keep writing which im hoping will be sometime this decade :’/ but i might post chapters i have for other unfinished fics i have over the next few days so if you’re into unfinished fics (read: literally nobody) then stick around!!!

premise for this fic | chapter 1 here | this is chapter 2

________________________________________________________________

f r a y

by hashtagartistlife

________________________________________________________________

Two

9:12 am

Kurosaki Clinic

When Renji wakes up the next morning to find Rukia safely asleep beside him, he feels the tension across his shoulders ease somewhat. They’d both been a little worried about how her sleepwalking habit might fit into this visit (even though neither of them had voiced their concerns out loud), he more so than she for reasons he had yet to disclose to her. Her breathy sigh of ‘Ichigo?’ rings in his ears. He hadn’t seen a point in telling Rukia about that, not when she was still refusing to admit she had a problem in the first place. She’d just feel needlessly guilty and isolate herself even more. Renji knows how Rukia works. What he doesn’t know is how to break through that shell she builds around herself, how to draw her out of it and get her to face her problems head-on.

No, he admits (and he’d be lying if he said there wasn’t a trace of bitterness in the way he thought it), that’s always been Ichigo’s specialty. He looks across the rowdy breakfast table to his friend, who is sitting uncharacteristically silent with a mug of something dark and unappetising in his hands. His eyes are shadowed, tired, and when he meets Renji’s gaze he starts almost guiltily before curving his lips into an uneasy smile.

The hell’s all that about? Renji thinks, but then Ichika slams into his knee, shoving a glass of orange juice into his face, and he puts the moment out of his mind. The rest of the morning is filled with trying out some godawful beverage called ‘coffee’ at Orihime’s behest, wrangling Ichika into human world clothes, and sending the children off, along with their mothers, to go meet Sado. He and Ichigo stay back, Ichigo to tend to his clinic and he to go see Urahara. Since gensei visits were so few and far between, even on what was ostensibly a holiday they had been saddled with checking in on the shopkeeper to exchange news and technology. Renji figures he might as well get that out of the way first, and catch up with Sado later.

At least, he figures that until Ichigo corners him just before he walks out the door, a dark expression on his face. He looks uncomfortable, standing in the doorway of his own house, a hand on the back of his neck, and Renji notes with a kind of detached surprise that if Ichigo hadn’t been slumping, they’d be more or less at a height now. He raises an eyebrow at him in a silent question.

“A— about Rukia—” Ichigo stumbles over the syllables in her name, and stops, wetting his lips, looking nervous. A sense of foreboding settles into Renji’s gut; Ichigo hasn’t looked this worried in— well, a decade. He stays quiet, letting Ichigo finish his question. “Has she ever— has she ever sleepwalked before?”

He freezes in his tracks; frantically, Renji rewinds last night in his mind. It’s no use; he’d been out for the count for a solid eight hours. If he hadn’t been so tired lately, he’d have thought someone had spiked his drink. Try as he might, he can’t remember Rukia slipping out of bed at all. But she’d been back in bed by the morning, so someone must have intercepted her—

Ichigo. Rukia’s voice, ghostly in his mind, calling his name. Ichigo. Ichigo. Ichigo—

His breath leaves him in a long, long sigh, and Renji closes his eyes before gesturing for Ichigo to sit.

6:53 am

Ichigo doesn’t go back to his bed after the kiss. Instead he sits outside the clinic, on the cold hard asphalt, for one eternity— two— til the sun starts lightening the end of the street and the moon grows paler in the sky. He can still feel Rukia on his skin, in his veins, lingering like a drug that refuses to clear. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be empty of her touch now that he’s known it.

When the moon finally disappears and the sun well and truly risen, he picks himself up from the ground and stumbles back into the house, feeling like he was the sleepwalker now. The sight of their children sprawled out together in their blanket fort brings the reality of what he’s done rushing back to him. He can’t help the reflex that brings his fingers up to ghost over his lips, like a lovesick teenager. The breath leaves his lungs like he’s been punched, and he turns away from the kids, sleeping angelically side-by-side. He can’t bear the thought of facing either of them, of facing anyone in this household any more.

What does he do now? Does he go back to bed, pretend nothing ever happened— slip into his place beside Orihime and forget the fact that his heart is beating again for the first time in ten years? Does he come clean to her and beg forgiveness, tell her he loves her and it won’t ever happen again, or does he lock this away in a dark recess of his mind, just like he’s done with his shinigami powers and everything related to her for the last decade? His mind casts around frantically for excuses — he was tired. It was the middle of the night. Hell, he doesn’t even know if it really happened anymore — was everything a fever dream, triggered by the immense relief of seeing Rukia again? But his blood is thrumming in his veins, and the power he’d spent his entire adult life crushing down is once again swirling and eddying just under his skin, exactly like it had when he was seventeen. His hands are shaking, and his skin feels hot. He can’t lie to himself. Rukia was here. Rukia’d kissed him. He’d kissed her back.

He drags his trembling hands over his eyes, down his face; slumps into a chair in the kitchen and attempts to evade the question that becomes more pressing with every second. What now? It was clear that Rukia had no idea what had happened. The weight of this transgression was his alone to carry. Even if she had remembered, the fault lay with him— she’d been asleep, but he’d been wide awake and had pulled her towards him.

A part of him— the good part, the noble part, the part that had once forced its way through layers of hollow to tell his zanpakutou to fuck off out of his fight with Byakuya— is yelling at him to confess, to lay himself at Orihime’s mercy and take whatever comes from it. But a larger, more insistent part of him is asking, for what? What does telling Orihime accomplish, but the breaking of four hearts? He has never deserved Orihime, with her soft smiles and kind words to his rough edges; the fact that he is, once again, an awful person to her— for her— is not news. What is the point of ruining her spun-sugar smile with something that will never happen again—

liar

—especially when it doesn’t just involve him? If he confesses, it’s not just his head on the line; it’s Rukia’s, too, no matter the fact that she was asleep at the time. And he might be willing to risk everything he ever is or was for far less than this, but there is no way in hell he will do that to Rukia. Not for some one-off sleepwalking incident that she had no control over, and if it happens again he’ll just push her away—

liar

— and oh, god, was this a thing that happened often? Rukia’d always been a deep sleeper; she was, despite everything she insisted to the contrary, very clearly not okay if she was sleepwalking like this.

As his thoughts spiral back to the cause of his turmoil, Ichigo becomes acutely aware of her reiatsu upstairs, thrumming rapidly like a hummingbird’s wings. It seems lighter and more unsettled than he remembers it being, and the tinge of instability to it as it flares and retreats irregularly unnerves him. Rukia’s reiatsu control has always been top-class, so this distinct lack of it triggers alarm bells in his mind. He swallows, and attempts to smooth down the ragged edges of her power with his; but wherever his reiatsu brushes against hers, it just flares brighter and more powerful and he has to give up, lest it disturb Renji or the kids.

It's been a while since he's felt someone else’s reiatsu like this, but he knows this isn't normal; concern eats at him even as it wars with an urge to ignore it and bury everything about this incident as deep as possible. Rukia isn’t an idiot, she would have gotten help if it was something serious—but would she, really? He knows better than anyone how stubborn she can be when she thinks she’s being a burden. She’d die before she let someone else take the fall for her.

He closes his eyes.

He scowls; ten years it’s been, and she’s still so— so— so her. Longer hair, a husband and child, a Captain’s haori, and nothing matters; she’s still stubborn, still a bitch who lives to help everyone else but won’t let anyone help her. It's evident in the way she refuses to say she’s tired, the way that Renji’s eyes follow her around everywhere, worried. She’s still the self-sacrificing idiot she’d been from day one, and he—

He is still the coward he’d been twelve years ago, when he’d watched her bleed out on the concrete before him and only then been spurred into action.

This isn’t about him. If Rukia is ill, then he has to let someone know— someone who can actually do something about it. His feelings — whatever they are— does not factor into the equation. This is about Rukia—

— so, he needs to talk to Renji.

10:18 am

“Has Rukia ever sleepwalked before?”

A moment of tension across Renji’s features, and then a long, long sigh; he gestures for Ichigo to sit, and the two of them shuffle over to the recently vacated kitchen table. Renji rubs his face tiredly, and Ichigo’s sense of foreboding grows.

“... Last night, huh?” Renji says, and Ichigo almost jumps out of his skin; did he know? Could he see— was the mark of Rukia's lips on his visible, indelible, the way it felt like to him? Could everyone read it on his face, that he and Rukia—

Renji’s voice is weary as he continues. “Yeah. Yeah, she's sleepwalked before. The past few years, actually. What did she do last night? How did you find her?”

— kissed— “She— she walked out of the clinic and I heard the door open. Renji, is she— is she okay—”

Renji leans his elbows on the table and buries his face in his hands. “I don't know,” he breathes, frustration dripping from every syllable. “I don't know, she won't tell me, you know how she is—”

Did he ever. Ichigo remembers with vivid clarity the time she'd sustained a stomach wound, back in the days before Soul Society; she hadn’t told him for three days, and had only agreed to go see Urahara when she'd finally collapsed in his arms.

“ — don't think I've tried—? God, doctors, healers, we've tried everything, Kuchiki-Taichou’s worried out of his mind. But she won't have any of it, says she won't let us waste time fussing over her when there are better things to worry about—”

“That fucking idiot,” Ichigo mutters, and Renji barks out what is almost a laugh.

“Right? Drives me up the fucking wall. Wouldn't be Rukia if she didn't.”

“Guess not.”

Renji cracks a strained smile before it fades away into seriousness again. “It wasn't this bad before,” he says, and Ichigo sits up straight.

“Recent thing, then?”

“Depends what you'd classify as recent. I mean, she's never been a heavy sleeper—”

At this, Ichigo interrupts. “Wait, really? She's always slept like the dead—”

Renji gives him a look, and Ichigo remembers who it is that is sharing her bed now. He shuts up.

“ — as I said, she's never slept too well, even during our Rukon days, and it got pretty bad after the war, but it wasn't— wasn’t to this extent, you know? At least, not till she had Ichika. And then— it was like a switch flipped. She couldn't get to sleep at night, and she could barely keep her eyes open during the day. It started interfering with her work, and you know how that would have killed her; we started to go see a bunch of people for it but nothing seemed to help. And then she started sleepwalking—”

Something cold crawls up Ichigo’s spine.

“She— at first, we didn't know where it was that she was going in her sleep. she wandered the Kuchiki Manor gardens a lot, sometimes she just paced around inside the house. Sometimes she got out of the Kuchiki property and was well into the streets before we found her and brought her back. I didn't know where she was trying to go—”

Renji breaks off, and looks Ichigo dead in the eye.

“— till one morning I woke up, and found her at Sokyouku Hill.”

Ichigo’s blood turns to ice.

“It was bloody Sokyoku Hill, Ichigo. Every single time— inside the Manor, in the gardens, on the streets. She was always trying to get to Sokyouku Hill. North-north west from the Kuchiki Manor. I—”

Renji’s expression turns supplicating, as if asking him for an answer, but Ichigo has none to give; he’s rooted to the spot by the sheer horror he’s feeling, Rukia strung up against the Sokyouku vivid in his mind. That collar around her neck, a red slash splitting her throat open; her eyes, glazed over with tears. Her skin dyed orange and yellow from the heat of it all.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with her, Ichigo, for fuck’s sake I can’t even get her to admit that there’s something wrong. I just—”

Renji drops his head into his hands. Very softly — so soft that Ichigo is sure he isn’t meant to hear these next words— he says to himself:

“Ten years. Ten years, and I’m still not enough.”

Ten years. Enough to fell mountains; enough to dry rivers and move oceans.

Not enough to change a heart.

When Renji looks up at Ichigo again, his gaze is edged with steel.

“She says your name.”

“I— what?”

“She says your name, when she walks out to Sokyouku Hill. She says your name.”

A memory, in his mind: Rukia, ethereal in the moonlight. Ichigo?

Yeah. Yeah, it’s me. I’m here.

Ichigo doesn’t know what to say.

Eventually, Renji breaks their impasse; he sighs and raps the table before getting up. “I’m not such a small man as to beat you to a pulp over that, Ichigo, stop looking like you think I’m going to bite your head off.”

“I’m not—” he protests automatically, but Renji shushes him with a wave of his hand.

“You are, but that’s not the point.” He ambles over to the door and looks over his shoulder at him, one hand poised on the handle. “If— if there’s anything you might be able to do for her—”

“Renji—”

“Please,” Renji says, and even though this time, he isn’t on his knees half-dead before him, Ichigo knows what it’s costing him to make this request. “Please… help her.”

Of course, Ichigo wants to reply, She’ll be fine, I’ll save her. Rukia’ll be safe—

But he isn’t fifteen anymore.

“I’ll— try,” he says, lamely, and that is the best they can do. Renji nods.

“Gonna go see Urahara. He might have some tricks up his sleeve,” he says, but he doesn’t look like he believes what he’s saying. Ichigo waves him off, and Renji slips away.

The sound of the clinic door swinging shut echoes in his wake.

3:02 pm

Rrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

Click.

“...Hello?”

“Kurosaki-san?”

“...... Urahara-san?”

“Ah, Kurosaki-san, thank goodness you picked up. If you aren’t busy, I’d appreciate your presence at the Shoten as soon as possible.”

“What? Me? Why?”

A pause; Ichigo finds, for no good reason whatsoever, that he is holding his breath.

“Ah, well. You see, that is—”

Between one accelerating heartbeat and the next—

“Kuchiki-san has collapsed.”

#bleach #ichiruki #kurosaki ichigo #kuchiki rukia #bleach fanfic #writer life #f r a y

99 notes · View notes

alwaysanotherrainbow · 5 years ago

Text

my boyfriend never texts first

Remus just wants to not be the first one to send a message every once in a while. That’s not too much to ask, right?

relationship: romantic remrom, background remy and emile (also romantic)

warnings: major character death, extended mourning (secondary warnings- brief discussion of religious holidays, brief underage drinking mention, a lot of all-caps) notes: unrelated, human, hs/college au. virgil, emile, and remy are here too. If you need anything in the secondary warnings (or one of those latter three characters) edited out, please let me know and I can put that up for you!

____________________________________________________

Remus always texted him first. Always. It didn’t matter the situation, didn’t matter the time date place name face. Who what when where why. It first started when he texted hi roman :) when they first got phones; for whatever reason, Roman just never texted first. Either he’d call or they’d talk in person.

No matter. Remus could cope.

May 1:

8:37 PM tody i saw you by my locker 8:39 PM *today 8:42 PM why didnt you say hi?

May 2:

9:30 PM a teacher talked to me today 9:30 PM wanted to talk about how i’m doing after 9:52 PM well you know. he’s a sick bastard

Really, it wasn’t too much to ask for, was it? He just wanted to see him text first once in a while! May 7:

3:32 PM: by the way idk if you got this last time 3:36 PM: my class ring size is the medium 3:44 PM: hopefully you order it by the deadline :P 4:03 PM: no idea when the deadline is 4:20 PM: bLAZE IT 4:24 PM: sorry i have like 0 money so i got it from the consignment shop 4:31 PM: i hope you like synthetic rubies!! leaving them with ur dad 10:40 PM: update. i cried for four hours with your dad.

June 2:

7:30 AM: gRaDuAtIoN dAy!!! 7:32 AM: there’s cookies in the reception menu 7:35 AM: snickerdoodles your favorite [eyes] 10:02 AM: i’m getting some for u 10:05 AM: [kissy face] 7:40 PM: the announcement was Weird 7:43 PM: anyways i have the snickerdoodles (Remus couldn’t go over to where Roman was staying, so he left them in the living room. He knew Roman would appreciate them. Hopefully he’d come over (wait, probably not, given...))

Well, actually, he could understand why he never texted first. June 11:

12:14 PM: roMAN 12:16 PM: [Attachment: Remus_Picani-Kleitman_Acceptance_Letter.pdf] 12:18 PM: YEAHHHH 12:24 PM: I’m sure you got in too SEND ME YOURS WHEN YOU GET IT 12:32 PM: WE MIGHT SHARE A ROOM YEA 12:35 PM: [Attachment: celebration.jpg]

Everyone was probably saying that he ought to just move on, but to be honest, he couldn’t... Actually, to be honest, no-one had told him to move on to his face yet. In fact, everyone was surprised he was doing so well, given how bad the circumstances were! The situation was stressing him out so much, even his dads were gently advising him to rethink things. (Well, that was part of the territory with one of them being a therapist and the other being a barista.)

“I got y’all some kouign-amann from the cafe,” said Dad, putting it down on the counter. His shirt had SLEEP scrawled on it with a Sharpie; it was the one that Remus had made for him as a joke. He still wore it. Huh.

“Sweetie, what’s a queen amahn?” asked Papa.

“It’s a... er, it’s like a... this is kinda like a croissant that had dreams of a muffin tin and salted caramel. One for you, babe.... then one for Doodlebug-”

“Can I leave some for Roman?” asked Remus.

They exchanged a glance.

“Of course you can,” said Papa with a smile. “Your candle’s on the table. Also, I got the news about being accepted into university? Good job, kiddo. You know, that was your father’s alma mater.”

“Are you sure you want to go to school right away after...? No problem taking a gap year.”

Papa glared at Dad. “Be nice.”

“I’m sorry, Remus, it’s just...” Dad put down his coffee. “If you’re not ready, if you need more time-”

"I’m sure,” said Remus with a grin, trying to get rid of what he just remembered. “Trust me.”

“Please find a good way to put away the snickerdoodles, they’ve been there since last week!” shouted Papa.

June 12:

12:12 AM: its twelve twelve make a wish 12:15 AM: hey when does your phone bill go out? 12:20 AM: im just saying that would Explain some things 12:22 AM: i know your dad pays Everything like a year in advance 12:34 AM: tell him i say hi 12:34 AM: 12:34 MAKE A WISH

July 12:

3:30 PM: guess who’s a double major in bio and theatre!! 3:32 PM: marine biology babey 3:53 PM: it’s good for the SOUL 4:04 PM: this cute octopus reminded me of you by the way 4:10 PM: [Attachment: for_roman]

August 14:

6:24 PM: moving in is the Worst 6:32 PM: by the way i got a single 6:35 PM: no roommates 6:41 PM: still have the bunk tho 6:44 PM: also got ur favorite pillo

August 30:

2:12 AM: roman it is like two o’clock in the morning what the Heck are you doing here, 2:15 AM: if u see me wave Hi 2:32 AM: ok >:c 2:42 AM: dont mind Me just studyin on top of the planetarium 3:15 AM: tbh i didn’t even know we go to the same campus? haven’t seen you around or anything 3:17 AM: shit phones gonna di

September 28:

2:20 PM: i failed my test 2:22 PM: idk what to d 2:24 PM: *do

September 29: 7:30 PM: remember that octopus you gave me that eats negative emotions? 7:32 PM: it works!!

October 3:

1:10 PM: You’d like the theatre program, really 1:15 PM: just so u know they’ve listed your name as an ‘honorary member of the class of’ 1:19 PM: that’s really nice of them. idk if your dad knows

October 23:

9:45 AM: i had to explain one of our inside jokes 8( 9:52 AM: i can’t Explain the deodorant thing that was One Time 9:55 AM: also why i’m called The Duke 9:56 AM: its bc you said it. not my fault 9:58 AM: its still cute pls call me that still 9:59 AM: pancake brunch pancake brunch pancake brunch October 31: 6:12 PM: sun’s down! joyous samhain 6:15 PM: i remember when you sewed me that octopus btw, the one that eats ucky feelings 6:19 PM: how long did it take you to get the laurel sachet into it?? 6:34 PM: also thank you thank you thank you for helping me find a friendly church to celebrate all saints day 6:47 PM: that year was a NIGHTMARE because you forgot to get your white candles and carnelian, and i forgot my holy water, so we were driving around town like Madmen 6:59 PM: it was worth it though 7:03 PM: i left you a script, i think you’ll like it.

November 9:

11:19 PM: i miss you so so much.

November 10:

12:20 AM: ignor this i drank like 12:24 AM: a lot 1:15 AM: i’m sorry i should’ve been with you 1:22 AM: i shouldve been there With You. 1:45 AM: but i wasn’t 2:20 AM: i didn’t know thered be a 4:11 PM: shit i just saw these. Sorry to bother you December 2:

10:10 AM: hey roman, been a bit. yea sorry about last time. too much of the Alcohol 10:13 AM: gonna go over to my parents’ house 1:00 PM: if you wanna come over, you can. dad’s making snickerdoodles and papa’s gonna watch atla (yes i still have that dvd you got me do not @ me it’s with your candles on your table just like everything else) 1:03 PM: that was on the dot, i’m happy.

December 21

8:34 AM: hey, it’s snowing 9:13 AM: couldn’t help leaving you some hot cocoa. and snickerdoodles of course 10:12 AM: i love you Remus went to go help his dads with making breakfast, but by the time everyone was done cleaning and they had finished watching some shitty Hallmark movie, he remembered that he had left his phone upstairs. Going upstairs and looking at it, he felt something in him break.

[2 Unread: Roman <3, bf’s dad]

10:22 AM, Roman <3: Why are you texting this number? 11:15 AM, bf’s dad: Remus, disregard that last, I’m so sorry. I just found his phone and I saw only the recent message first

The phone started ringing. Remus answered it as quickly as he could.

“I’m so sorry Mr. Sanders I didn’t know that someone was actually getting these messages I thought the line was out,” he said within a few seconds before the person on the other side sighed.

“No, it’s quite all right. And Virgil’s all right, by the way, if you prefer. I... I was just looking through his things for the first time. You know, it being a holiday and all... Memories, things like that.”

“Yeah, I understand.”

“I just turned the phone back on, I’m getting a lot of messages.”

“Oh.” Remus stared at the wall, trying to come to terms with everything. “Well, I--”

“I’m not going to stop paying for his phone. I’m sorry, I just... I still have his voicemails on it, and I can’t stand the thought of it going offline either.”

“Right, I... I listen to it too.”

“I happened upon the last one he sent to you.”

“You looked at the messages?”

“I only looked over when I stopped getting new ones, but I saw the last question he sent you. For your ring size.”

“Yeah? He asked my ring size so that he could--”

“There’s no easy way to say this, but.. I found something of his. Can you come over?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t, but can you please tell me what it was? Please?”

“I really think I should tell you this in person.”

“Please, Mr. Sanders. Please, I... I can’t manage that.”

He sighed. “All right, Remus. I found an early acceptance letter to SJAU, and... and a ringbox.”

Remus felt his grasp on the phone grow weak. It fell onto the bed, Mr. Sanders’ voice still clear.

“I think he was going to ask for you to....”

“No, we... We were just out of high school, I-- that doesn’t make sense.”

“He always was one for those romantic gestures. There’s some poems here, too. A life-plan. I’m not sure exactly what malacology is, but--”

“Mollusks. Like octopi and squids.. Sorry for cutting you off, what was that?”

“Some of it’s in your handwriting, but one of the entries is ‘ask him’, for the day after... you know.”

God, he could hear his sad smile through the phone. He knew exactly how Mr. Sanders looked right now just talking to him, probably wearing that hoodie that was too big on him, in a dusty room full of things that used to belong to the most vibrant person that Remus had ever met.

But then Roman had died.

He was the most wonderful person, and he had just died.

“I’ll come over to deliver the ring to you. Is that okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s... that’s fine. Uh, call my dads first, though. They’re still not convinced I’m doing okay.”

“I understand. I’ll talk to you later, Remus.”

“Thank you, Mr. Sanders.”

The line went dead in his hands.

Remus held himself and wept.

December 28:

12:30 PM, Remus Picani-Kleitman: Mr. Sanders, would you like to come over for our New Year’s party? 12:34 PM, Remus Picani-Kleitman: It’s a tradition we had. You don’t have to if you’d rather not. 12:45 PM, Virgil Sanders: I’d love to go.

January 1:

12:00 AM: HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!! 12:05 AM: [Attachment: :)] 12:07 AM: we are all smiling in this photo and for that i think we deserve a hug. 12:10 AM: this rings the most beuatifl thing i’ve ever fuckign seen. thank you,, 12:14 AM: never gonna get rid of it <3 12:16 AM: it looks Good on my finger 12:30 AM: jsyk your dad’s asking my dads for the kouign amann recipe 12:32 AM: thats a pastry, i left those for u a while back 12:39 AM: okay i’m crying a bit but honestly, i love u 12:44 AM: I love you so so so much, Roman

Somewhere out there, whether it was from some wonderful paradise or beyond the veil or even only in wishful thoughts, Remus knew that someone was saying I love you too.

#remrom #remrom writing #my fics

26 notes · View notes

keepyourpantsongohan · 6 years ago

Text

Operation Scary Date

A collaboration by @sloaners and myself for Sloaners’ Disastrous Discord’s spring event, based on the Terribly Romantic Prompt, “[Character] gets cursed by a ridiculous artifact and the cure is not much better with Love Epiphany.” Art by sloaners, writing by keepyourpantsongohan.

YOU MATCHED WITH TOBI ON TUESDAY.

Tobi: cum 2 my castle tonite

Yamato: Hello to you too. Can I ask about the pictures? It’s hard to see what you look like.

Tobi: ull see what i look like soon enough

Yamato: You’re kinda weird. Lucky I like that. Where do you live?

Tobi: the woods

Yamato: I’m going to bet you don’t get a lot of matches on here, huh?

Tobi: why would u say that

—

YOU MATCHED WITH TOBI ON TUESDAY.

Tobi: cum 2 my castle tonite

Isobu: strong opener; convince me.

Tobi: i can be a beast in my chambers

Isobu: if I had a gold coin for every time I heard that, I could put myself through knight school again.

Tobi: im... tall? and we matched so u must think im good-looking

Isobu: fair. where am I supposed to find this castle, anyway?

Tobi: the woods in the north under the light of the full moons glare at dusk Isobu: that’s oddly specific Tobi: everyones a critic

—

YOU MATCHED WITH TOBI ON TUESDAY.

Tobi: cum 2 my castle tonite

Sukea: okay.

Tobi: wait what just like that?

Sukea: yeah. is that a problem?

Tobi: no i mean... good. this is all according to plan

Sukea: that’s kind of a weird thing to say.

Tobi: im new at this

Sukea: dating, or talking to other people?

Tobi: pass. north woods at 8?

Sukea: i might be late. there are black cats in those woods, and i’d hate to cross their paths.

Tobi: dont worry about time. we will have plenty of it soon

Sukea: do you always talk to your dates this way?

Tobi: pretty much

—

The third time Rin’s mace gets stuck in a tree branch, she wonders if it was entirely a good decision to let Kakashi make her Kindling profile.

There’s something to be said for quality screening, and the type of images one displays on their profile says a lot for who might be drawn to match. She didn’t even take a good look at her alias before they began their attempts to swipe through every enchanted being in their area. While Rin has always considered her taste in partners a little bit out there, it’s never been quite so literal before. One league back, she swears she heard the voice of a man yelling from above.

This better be a good date, Rin thinks, whacking some of the foliage out of her face.

“It helps if you go under instead of through,” says a voice behind her.

Startled, Rin turns around. “Tenzō?”

Partly obscured by the denseness of the woods, she sees her friend wave at her. “I didn’t expect to see anyone else here tonight.”

“Me either,” Rin says, bending and reaching out a hand to pull him forward. The forest seems happy to bend around him, twisting to make room for him to stand beside her. “You’re not Tobi, are you? There were a lot of masks and odd lighting choices.”

Tenzō’s eyebrows disappear under his face plate. “Tobi?”

“My date,” she explains.

He folds his arms, making a speculative noise. “Mine too,” Tenzō replies, narrowing his eyes.

“Sleaze, or trap?” Rin asks.

“What time is your date?”

“A quarter after the eighth hour.”

With a sigh, Tenzō declares, “Sleaze. My date’s at half past. A decent kidnapper would make sure his victims wouldn’t cross paths.”

Rin shrugs. “Doesn’t say much for his dating strategy either. How smart can you really be to meet up with so many dates at the same location? And who’d choose to be in these woods, anyway?”

“We’re here,” Tenzō points out with a dry look.

Grinning, Rin replies, “Yes, well, we think Kakashi’s handsome. No one ever said anything good about our taste.”

“I wonder how his date is going,” Tenzō muses, laughing. “Better than ours I hope.”

Rin’s smile fades as a heavy wind from the sky catches her attention. A great dragon bears down upon them, hurtling unevenly as if it has just grown its wings overnight. She raises her voice to be heard over the rustling trees. “Definitely better than ours. Is it just me or does the cloak on that dragon look familiar?”

“Trap,” says Tenzō apologetically, as a set of claws wrap around his waist.

—

“So… does he do this often?” Kakashi asks, carefully balancing the next piece on top of his tower.

The creature responds with a, “Be quiet, brat,” from beneath his heavy pile of robes. Kakashi suspects the garment is mostly for show. Whoever’s underneath shifts their weight too much to be all that big. But then again, the dragon had caught him off-guard, so perhaps his instincts are a little off tonight.

“You know, I might’ve come upstairs anyway,” Kakashi tells him. “If he’d asked me nicely.”

When no response is given, Kakashi continues, stacking piece after jenga piece by himself.

“That’s traditionally how the date thing is done. First conversation, then we decide if we want to spend the night together. He must be very out of practice.”

His companion mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like, “I don’t get paid enough for this.”

“We don’t need a chaperone,” Kakashi points out helpfully. “I promise. I’m a very respectful date… what did the other one call you? Kakuzu?”

His question is met with a groan of disapproval, which Kakashi takes to mean ‘yes.’ “Kakuzu,” he says, in the same reasonable voice he uses when tutoring his students, “You seem tired. Really, I’m fine here. Where would I go?”

He gestures to their surroundings. The single window has nothing below it but a moat, and there are no other points of entry. Kakashi’s thought of at least thirty plans of escape, and for twenty-nine and a half of them, he doesn’t like his odds.

“Listen, if it’s the money you’re worried about… I have some gold on me. It seems like we’ll be staying in tonight, anyway.”

Kakuzu’s posture shifts at the mention of payment. Bingo.

Kakashi throws his coin purse, and tries not to blink at the distinctly claw-like hands that grab it. His plans for observation go out the window with Kakuzu when he realizes his bodyguard is hoisting himself across the bricks with hundreds of thick grey tendrils attached to his body.

He sighs, and begins searching the tower.

If Kakashi had to guess the personality of the chamber’s owner based on his belongings, he wouldn’t know where to start. In the closet he finds at least twelve different shades of the same cape. Looking underneath the bed yields a startlingly life-like statue of a man cast half in black and half in white that Kakashi swears is winking at him. He moves onto the desk quickly after that.

The book he finds in it reads, in bold lettering, DO NOT TOUCH, which seems promising. There are dogs on the cover. That seems promising too.

Tenzō and Rin are probably laughing at me somewhere, he thinks, as he pulls it into his grasp.

The crash from the window is not nearly as disconcerting as the beam of blinding light that follows.

—

“That is not how you greet a date,” says Tenzō, affronted.

Kakashi gapes. “Tenzō? Rin? What are you doing here?”

Brushing himself off, Tenzō shrugs. “Being attacked by a dragon. Why are you here?”

“I’m on a date,” Kakashi explains. He looks at the cloaked figure still upturned on the floor. “With him, I think.”

Rin nudges Tobi with her boot. “You arranged a date with all three of us on the same night?”

Tenzō looks heavenward. “Is that really what we’re mad about?”

Rin and Kakashi look at each other, and then nod at Tenzō. “A little, yeah.”

“I, for one, would like to know who we’re dealing with,” Tenzō remarks, crouching down by their host’s face. He pulls a spade out from his robes, and prods him sharply in the side. When this elicits no response, Tenzō rolls the man over.

Two intakes of breath punctuate the motion. “Rin,” says Kakashi urgently.

“I didn’t know either,” she replies. Shifting forward, Rin places a hand on Tenzō’s shoulder. “I’ll heal him.”

Tenzō rises, glancing between his two companions. The room is silent but for the sound of Rin's healing magic and the slight creaking of the door. “You know him?”

“It’s Obito,” says Kakashi.

“Obito, your old and dead teammate? That Obito?”

“I’m not dead,” says Obito, sitting up abruptly with the aid of Rin’s healing magic. Tenzō yelps.

Kakashi feels a little lightheaded. “We need to talk.”

—

Reconciled to the fact this evening is going to make no sense at all, Kakashi extends a hand to Obito. After a moment of hesitation, Obito takes it. There is a warmth between their fingertips that Kakashi takes to be familiarity, until suddenly, where there was empty space, there’s a small dog that Kakashi lunges to catch.

“Well hello, are you lost?” Kakashi asks, once the puppy is cradled in his arms. The Chow Chow merely tucks itself under Kakashi’s chin, which is a better answer than he could’ve expected.

Tenzō elbows him, careful not to jostle the animal. “What, you’re finally showing us what your powers are? Right here?”

Rin levels him with a doubtful look. “I have a hard time believing you could make infinite dogs and you limited yourself to eight. Konoha should be overrun with wagging tails by now.”

Shaking his head, Kakashi replies, “I didn’t make him appear.” He pauses, looking at Obito. “At least, I don’t think I did? Obito?”

Obito’s eyes narrow, and then widen. “You read my diary,” he says suddenly, with surprising indignation for a man who has confessed to running a magical terrorist ring.

“Diary?” Kakashi repeats, adjusting his grip on the dog. When his fingers touch, there’s twice as many puppies in his arms as before. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. This is the best date I’ve ever been on.”

Grabbing the book still lying open upon his desk, Obito shows them the same cover Kakashi had been inspecting earlier. “Anyone who lays a hand on this journal aside from me becomes overwhelmed by beasts!”

“They do look ferocious,” Rin teases, scratching the second dog behind the ears.

Obito eyes the scene, uncertain. “Curses aren’t an exact science! The book knows what it’s meant to do.”

Tenzō steps closer to Obito, considering him. “If you’re so worried about what’s going to happen to Kakashi, then take the curse off of him.”

Obito hesitates. “Wizards... are supposed to stand by their principles.”

This time, it’s Rin who steps closer, boxing Obito in. “You don’t know how to reverse the spell, do you?” she asks, trying not to laugh.

“Curses aren’t an exact science,” Obito says again, defensively.

A groan echoes throughout the room from his former teammates. “Why would you use an enchantment you don’t know how to break?” Kakashi asks, while the dogs try to climb up his shoulders. Three, now, as he reaches out to steady one with both hands.

“If it stumps me, it should stump all of my enemies.”

Tenzō puts his head in his hands. “I hate that he’s starting to make sense to me.”

“It happens sometimes,” Kakashi says sympathetically. The long-suffering tone is belied by the puppy licking his cheek above his mask.

—

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Obito asks, clearing his throat for the third time since they’ve arrived. “Doesn’t Minato-sensei have a family now? Should we really be bothering him with this kind of thing?”

“It’s not our fault you broke Kakashi,” Tenzō mutters under his breath. They’ve improvised leashes for the dogs out of some of his gardening supplies, and dogs, which now number four, are mostly under his rein, though they keep tugging forward to approach Kakashi. One dog remains in Kakashi’s hands, thankfully keeping them occupied.

Kakashi opens his mouth, perhaps to argue the point of this curse being so terrible. However, whatever he is about to say is interrupted by the door opening to reveal a blond man in robes that look they belong more at a discotheque than at a ritual.

“So, what brings you kids here?” Minato asks, smiling broadly. “It’s unlike you to come for a visit unannounced.”

Kakashi and Rin shuffle aside so their final companion is clearly visible. “Obito?” Minato asks, gaping.

—

“That is quite the problem,” Minato muses, a hand at his chin. “It’s not a spell I’ve ever heard of before. And you have absolutely no idea how to counter it?”

Eyes turn to Obito once more, and he shakes his head. Kakashi sighs. “We were hoping you would know, sensei.”

“I know a few general counter-curses, but I suspect they won’t help in this situation. They’re for less powerful spells, like warts, or being turned into a frog. That second one’s surprisingly common, you know.”

Rin’s brow furrows. “Then there’s nothing we can do? Kakashi’s going to need to use his hands at some point.”

“I didn’t say that,” says Minato, with a knowing smile. “It’s common for some magical beings to cancel out a spell by using one that uses the same underlying magic. So in this case, it’s possible for us to free Kakashi by finding a curse of equal measure. Did you know that my teleportation magic is derivative of a curse?”

“Isn’t dealing with unfamiliar curse magic what brought us here in the first place?” Tenzō asks.

Minato tilts the brim of his hat. “It all depends on the strength of the spell Obito used. If he used a spell that’s stronger than my curse, then we’ll have to look for another answer.”

—

“And a second curse was supposed to have helped?” gripes Kakashi, clutching his forehead. “Now I can’t control where I go! This can’t be good for the dogs.”

“Well, there’s one other solution to your predicament,” says Minato, with a pensive gaze. “True love’s kiss.”

Kakashi looks pointedly at the ceiling. “If I were in love, why would I be on a dating app?” he asks, aware of four separate gazes on him. Well, eight, if he counts the dogs.

Minato shrugs, raising his hands in surrender. “I’m not saying you are, I’m just saying that it’s a method to break a curse.”

“Have you ever tried it?” Obito asks skeptically.

With a pointed look, Minato rejoins, “I usually memorize the counter-curse before I try out a new spell, Obito.” The younger man reddens, and glances around the room like the criticism might be directed at someone else. Minato stifles a laugh.

“You should try, Kakashi,” Rin says decidedly. “It’s better than not doing anything.”

Kakashi makes a startled noise. “Who are you suggesting I kiss?”

She shrugs, and gestures between her, Tenzō, and Obito. “Take your pick.”

The range of expressions Kakashi manages to convey with only his eyes in that minute is thoroughly impressive. His eyes linger on each of them, before he shakes his head. “I’m not going to choose between my friends,” Kakashi says firmly.

Obito huffs. “Then I’ll do it,” he says, reaching for Kakashi. Kakashi looks at him in him in surprise. “I broke you, I should fix you,” Obito adds, with a wry look at Tenzō.

Kakashi sighs. “I suppose I can’t argue with that.” Flushing, he adds to Minato, “Can you…?” Dutifully, Minato turns around and covers his ears.

He lets Obito pull him closer, and adds to Rin and Tenzō, “Hold onto us. If this doesn’t work, I don’t want to end up stuck in Minato-sensei’s ceiling.”

And so, with Tenzō at his back, and Rin at Obito’s, Kakashi closes the gap between them. With his lips brushing Obito’s, he reaches blindly for one of the hands at his side, and smiles when nothing happens.

Then, the ground is pulled out from under them.

—

“What happened to Obito and Tenzō?” Kakashi asks, trying to peer around the pumpkin.

A very loud, familiar voice, echoes through the room. “I’m Tenzō,” says the pumpkin, and Kakashi and Rin nearly jump out of their skin.

Carefully, they make their way to the other side of him. Sure enough, as if he were a jack-o-lantern, there is a vague impression of their friend’s features, along with a tuft of brown hair. The small frown is so characteristic of Tenzō that for a moment, Kakashi feels more normal and at ease than he has all night. Unwittingly, he imagines Tenzō in his own garden, and tries not to laugh.

“It’s not funny,” says Tenzō, even though it is.

Rin reaches out to pat his orange cheek. “Well, you make a cuter pumpkin than Obito did a dragon.”

“Hey!” a muffled voice interjects, offended.

Rin steps back to inspect the scene, trying to place the source of the sound. “Obito? Are you in there too?”

“Not quite,” Kakashi observes. He gestures towards the wayward limbs and messy hair sticking out under Tenzō. “Are you alright under there, Obito?”

Obito groans. “I’ve been better,” is his flat reply.

“Is anyone going to try to reverse this spell?” Tenzō demands. “I can’t exactly double up on curses like this.”

“Obito’s lips might already be touching some part of you,” Rin says with a giggle.

Kakashi can’t hold back his smile. “I think it might need to be his face, Rin. Stay there, Tenzō,” says Kakashi, like Tenzō’s not occupying fifty percent of the room.

Pulling down his mask again, Kakashi aims his lips at what he hopes represents Tenzō’s head. Where he touches, it glows, and he can’t tell if it’s the magic or what it looks like for a pumpkin to blush. Through another burst of light, the rough texture of the pumpkin is replaced by Tenzō’s warm skin. Definitely blushing, Kakashi notes, as he hears newly-warped buckles and accessories from Tenzō’s stretched clothing hit the dungeon floor.

When Tenzō recovers his voice, he says, with a hint of orange still in his cheeks, “The first one of you to make a gardening joke is being left in the dungeon.”

TO BE CONTINUED....

#obito uchiha #kakashi hatake #rin nohara #yamato #yamato tenzo #kakayamaobirin #(you read that right folks)#if ur confused... GOOD #NO EXPLANATION REQUIRED #ayesha talks anime #sloaners #fanart #fanfiction #mine #long post #collaboration #operation scary date #discord

313 notes · View notes

tilltheendwilliwrite · 7 years ago

Text

Qi Flows for Her

Chapter Two

Previous Chapter

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC x Bucky Barnes | Word Count: 5561 Warnings: Swearing

Celine stood on the pinnacle of the pretty bridge, staring out at the beauty of Central Park. Evening was falling, her favourite time of day. Long shadows were beginning to coat the buildings beyond the trees and deepened the ones beneath the foliage. The sound of the water under the bridge soothed her anxiety. The two males with her helped as well.

Peter was full of energy, vitality, and fun. Just like his aura, he bubbled with excitement.

It lifted her spirits.

Bucky, too, took her mind off of the drama which was likely unfolding high above in the tower. One would never know to look at him that he was from a different era. He fit quite well into this one. He laughed and joked with Peter about current sports teams and relevant celebrities. Even with the dark aura which hung around him, he had a soothing presence.

When Peter’s phone rang and he sighed, his aura dimming, she knew he was being called home. The little spider was still in high school and had other obligations. He covered his involvement with the Avengers, and as Spider-Man, by saying he was interning with Tony after having won some sort of scholarship. From what she'd seen of his intelligence, it was a good misdirection.

“It is alright, Peter. I am certain I will be here at least a few days.” If this alliance didn’t work out, she would make sure she got to say goodbye before she left. “Will you do me a favour, little spider?”

“Name it, Celine!”

She touched his cheek. “I would rather people not know about my… preferred food source. Can we keep the vampire comments between us?”

His face fell, the thought sobering, but he nodded. “I understand.”

His emotions rippled through his aura. She could feel his disappointment, both in keeping her secret and in how the others had reacted to her. Cupping his chin, she tilted his face up. “Peter, I am fine.” It wasn’t the first time others had reacted poorly to her.

“It's just… not fair. You’re on our side.”

“Hey, pal.” Bucky laid a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. Steve and I’ll look after Celine and help her fit in. This isn’t going to go there. This ain’t ending up another battle at the airport.”

“Promise?” He looked to Bucky.

Celine frowned, not really understanding the spiking emotions of the two males or the subtle nuances.

“Promise, pal.”

Peter heaved a sigh but smiled and nodded. “Okay. I’ll see you in a few days. If I’m not home in thirty Aunt May is gonna freak.” He took off at a run with a wave.

“Will he make it alright?” Celine asked.

“Parker?” Bucky chuckled. “He’s the web-slinger. He’ll make it.”

Celine leaned back against the edge of the bridge, resting her hands beside her hips. “What did I miss in that exchange?”

He sighed, leaning beside her. “When things went bad after the accords, it split the team. Steve and I were on one side. Peter was on Tony’s. After, when things settled down, and we all made peace, Peter got real attached to Steve. Pretty sure the kid didn’t want to watch the two of them go at it over you, so when he asked to come with…” Bucky shrugged.

Celine brought a hand to her mouth. “I told Charles… I’m not the right choice for this,” she whispered, shaking her head sadly.

“Hey now, it ain’t like that.” His fingers lightly touched the back of her hand.

She looked up to find his eyes full of kindness. “I can't let Wanda in. I can’t, Bucky. There are… things about me which I do not wish to have known. But I am not a danger to your team.”

“Dollface, I know all about people fuckin’ with your head. If you don’t want her running around upstairs, you ain’t gonna hear me protest.”

“Says the man most suspicious of my arrival.”

“Hey! I… that ain’t fair,” he grumbled, eyes twinkling. “I didn’t know you then.”

“You don’t know me now,” she said, pressing away from the railing and sauntering deeper into the park.

“I know no woman in her right mind would wear shoes like that to walk through the park.”

Grinning over her shoulder, she kicked up a foot. “These old things? You’d be surprised what I can do in a pair of stilettos.” There was an intense spike in his libido which she chose to ignore. This was her team now. She wasn’t going to feed on her team no matter how hungry they made her.

Both super soldiers had stirred something inside her with their initial meeting. The first brush of fingers had jolted through her, built a fire, and brought forth her innate sexuality. They made her hungry with so little effort. Sexual desire was not something she’d felt in many years.

It made her flirty. Too flirty. Dialling it back, Celine tucked her hands in her pockets.

His hand closed around her elbow. “Celine, I meant what I said to Peter. You do belong here. Steve and I will make sure the others see that too.”

She blinked at the determination she found in the set of his jaw. “Thank you, Bucky. I have… difficulty adjusting to new environments.”

“You okay, doll? You seem…” He shook his head.

She pulled her arm gently from his hold and walked on. “I have been a freak of nature since I was twelve. It should not surprise me when people fear and abhor me, but it still does. Peter’s easy acceptance, yours, and Steve’s… it’s unsettling. The only others who have been so accepting are Charles, Rogue, and Logan.”

“You ain’t no better or worse than the next person, Celine. Just cause you’re different doesn’t make you a freak.”

She laughed, the sound full of disbelief. “You do not yet understand, but you will. When you see… when you see what I am… and can say those words, mean those words, then perhaps I will believe you.”

“Celine,” he said, voice full of shock and aura full of sadness.

Turning her head, she smiled, but it did not reach her eyes. “It is alright, Bucky. I am used to being alone. If the team chooses to let me stay without demanding to look through my head, I will fight alongside you. But I do not expect you to be comfortable with me. I am not like you.” She motioned with her chin toward the tower. “Steve approaches.” Not yet willing to find out how badly she’d been rejected, Celine walked the other way to sit on a bench far enough from the two soldiers to give them privacy to speak.

***

Bucky had not felt this powerless since his time with Hydra.

Celine, this gorgeous, strong woman, one who sustained her own life off the emotions of others, was so clearly fragile and so deeply scarred he wanted nothing more than to drag her into a hug so tight, she would feel safe and protected for the rest of her life.

What had happened in the tower, that shit couldn’t happen again.

“Steve,” he said when the blond stopped at his side. “You rip Tony a new one?”

“Yeah. He’s really got to stop pulling this stuff,” Steve sighed, rubbing a hand over his mouth.

“He come down off his high horse, or he still demanding Wanda vet Celine?”

“Less of a comedown, more of a knocked off. Wanda won’t do it. I guess can’t do it is more the issue. Celine has shields the likes of which Wanda ain’t ever seen before. She’d barely approached Celine’s mind, and Celine noticed.”

“She belongs here, Steve. I promised Parker we’d look after her.”

Steve’s brow arched. “Weren’t you the one saying you didn’t like this idea?”

“Yeah, well, opinions can change. Celine… she needs us.” He didn’t know how he knew, he just did. “She’s… fragile, pal. For all her power, she’s broken inside. She expects us to work with her but not work with her, ya know? Just ghost along on the outskirts of the team.”

Steve glanced her way, noticing how her eyes were closed, her face tilted to the last rays of the sun. She was, truly, incredibly beautiful. Even here in the park, she was drawing eyes. “What she tell you?”

“Just that the only ones who trusted her were Charles, Rogue, and Logan. The fact that you, me, and Peter didn’t bat an eye threw her. She’s apparently used to being alone.”

“What?” Steve couldn’t believe it.

Bucky shrugged. “No matter what happens on this next mission, whatever she reveals herself as, we can’t let it phase us. I got a weird feeling, a gut feeling. She needs us.” His gut feelings back in the day used to be the ones that kept them out of the worst spots of trouble.

“I’m with you, pal.”

“You’d better be, punk.”

They smirked at each other before heading for Celine.

“So, it appears I am not banished from the team after all,” she called out once they were closer.

“Nah, you ain’t getting rid of us that easy.” She opened her eyes once they stood before her, and Bucky had his breath catch. “C’mon. You said you like food. It’s nearly dinner time, and Wanda was cooking tonight.”

She took his outstretched hand. The same jolt from the contact raced up his arm as before when he tugged her to her feet.

“What is the catch, Steve?” she asked once she was upright.

“How do you keep…?” He shook his head, a wry smile spreading across his lips. “Shoot. Am I that easy to read?”

“Like a book, Cap,” she chuckled. “You must be rubbish at poker.”

“Rubbish?” Bucky snickered.

Celine shrugged. “Charles is rather English. Some of his lingo stuck. It means Steve must suck something fierce at cards.”

“Hey, now! I’m not that bad!” the blond super soldier protested.

“Yeah, you are,” Bucky laughed.

“Big jerk.”

“Scrawny punk!”

Celine snickered. “How is this,” she flicked her hand like a game show hostess down Steve’s chest, “scrawny?”

“He was smaller than a flea before he let the Army jack him full of steroids,” Bucky said. “Thought I told you not to do anything stupid?”

“And I told you, you took all the stupid with you. There was no stupid left. Therefore what I did was patriotic.”

She burst out laughing as they crossed the street. “Are you two always like this?”

“Yes,” they said together.

Celine continued to laugh as she turned away from the main doors to the tower.

“That’s the wrong way,” Bucky called out.

She threw a grin over her shoulder. “As I have two such strong men at my disposal, why not get assistance with my luggage?”

Her walk had a distinct tone of sass to it Bucky preferred to the sadness she’d walked in earlier. He glanced at Steve and muttered, “I feel played. Do you feel played?”

“Don’t hate the player!” Celine called as she entered the parking garage.

Squealing tires had Bucky and Steve looking to the left, but Celine was already striding toward her car and never saw him coming until the lights from the speeding vehicle blinded her. She threw up her arms, and her power burst to life around her, but not soon enough to stop the speeding truck from slamming into her side and throwing her through the air.

“Celine!” Bucky and Steve yelled, racing toward her.

“Shit! I’m so sorry!” The driver was out of his vehicle, cellphone in hand.

Ignoring him for the moment, Steve and Bucky knelt to either side of the crumpled form of Celine. Her eyelids fluttered open, and she groaned.

“Doll? You okay? Just lie still. We’ll get some help.” Bucky pressed his hand gingerly down on her shoulder.

“I’m fine,” she said, batting at his hand.

“You just got hit by a truck! You ain’t fine.” Steve glared at the man who was continuing to babble about not seeing her and the coffee he’d spilled in his lap had distracted him.

“Bucky. Steve, I’m fine,” she reiterated, sitting up against Bucky’s pressing hand. “Just help me up.”

They both gaped at her before each took a hand and lifted her gingerly to her feet.

“Broke my favourite pair of shoes,” she muttered.

“That’s it?” Bucky gasped. “A shoe? You got hit by a truck, and it broke your shoe?”

She blinked at him. “Um… yes?”

“Jesus!” He threw up his hands, turned toward the driver and pointed. “Get the fuck out of here, and slow the fuck down!” The man was one he recognized from the tower, though Bucky wasn’t sure which department he was in. “You’re damn lucky she’s enhanced our you likely would have killed her!”

“Yes, sir!” the man scrambled to obey. “I’m really sorry, ma’am!” he shouted as he got in his truck and practically crawled out of the building.

Celine’s knees wobbled, and Steve grabbed her around the waist. “You sure you’re okay? We should let Bruce check you out.”

She patted his shoulders and pulled away. “Totally fine, promise. I’ve been hit with worse, and far harder.” She walked away, stopping only to take her shoes off and place them in a garbage can.

She got three inches shorter, and Bucky could have groaned. There was nothing better in his opinion than a woman with curves who would fit nicely beneath his chin. Celine checked all those boxes. From the look on Steve’s face, he wasn’t the only one who thought so.

She popped the trunk on her nearby car, pulled out two large suitcases and a third smaller one. From inside that one, she tugged a new pair of shoes.

“Do not tell us that one is just shoes.”

She glanced at Steve and smiled a secret smile but didn’t reply as she brushed off her feet and slipped into the new, shorter set of heels. Her pants had torn at the thigh, giving Bucky a flash of delicate flesh, and the back of her jacket was dirty, but she looked relatively unscathed for someone who’d taken a licking by a pick-up truck. “What’s not in your file, Celine?”

Her grip on the strap of the smaller suitcase she’d placed on her shoulder tightened. “Because I channel chi as I do, I am stronger, faster, and can hear better than your average human. I also… live longer.”

“How can you be certain?” Steve asked.

“I have not aged in twenty years.”

“What?” Bucky asked, stunned.

She simply shrugged. “I do not know how it works, or if I will age, or when. But I am very hard to injure.”

The two soldiers exchanged wry smiles. “Shit, doll. You’re more like us than we realized.”

“Except for the whole not needing to eat thing. I’m starving,” Steve chuckled, grabbing up one suitcase.

Bucky took the other. “Me too.”

“I could eat.” She blushed when they both looked at her. “Um, real food. I won’t need to feed for a few days.”

“We should have a mission by then. That work for you?” Steve asked.

Bucky watched something, a flicker of emotion he couldn’t place, spark in her eyes before she hid them behind her lashes.

“Yes, that will be fine.” Celine nodded, shut the trunk of her car, and followed them to the lobby entrance.

***

She stood within the confines of her suite of rooms and blinked in shock. “Here? This is… here?”

“What? Not up to X-men standards?” Bucky teased.

“We’ll have to tell Tony there’s something better somewhere else.” Steve chuckled.

Horrified, Celine shook her head and walked deeper into the sitting room. “No! That isn't what I meant at all! When I still lived at the Manor, we each have a room, but this is…” She ran out of words and just waved a limp hand.

The main space consisted of a seating area with couches, chairs, and an entertainment center. The wall across from her was all windows with a glass topped desk taking in the view of New York. There was a small kitchenette off to one side, a half fridge, sink, and cabinets. Through the open door, she caught a glimpse of a wide white bed, thick and plush and piled with pillows. A woman would feel like a Queen sleeping among the cloudlike softness promised in all that plush.

Gliding toward the windows, she let her case of shoes fall from her shoulder with a small thump. The walls were decorated in soothing colours. Paintings by various impressionist artists, ones she’d always adored hung around the room. She wondered briefly if Charles had made mention of her preference as it was something he would do.

She touched the soft cotton sheer which hung against the window. “It’s more than I expected.” Celine turned and smiled at the two soldiers standing together across the room. They exchanged a glance, one which she couldn’t decipher before two sets of stunning blue eyes returned to assess her.

“You want to change before dinner, Celine? You’re a bit… mussed.” Steve rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, a light blush of colour rising in his cheeks.

It hit her as being one of the most adorable things she’d ever seen. The big, strong soldier turning shy on her. She nodded, and they moved together before she could say any more to take her cases into the bedroom where she watched them toss them on the bed like they weighed nothing. The action caused the flare of desire to hit her a third time. Their strength was highly attractive.

When her hair fell forward over her shoulder, she glanced at it, noticed the way it was beginning to go from straight to wavy, and took a firm grip on her libido.

Working with these two could prove to be difficult.

She focused on her breathing, calming her rising sensuality and dialled back on her appeal until the wave fell out of her hair. When she looked up, she found them watching her. “What?”

“Something wrong?” Bucky asked.

She took the shades which still rode her head out of her hair and tilted her chin up as she set them on the dresser. “Not that I am aware of. If you gentlemen will excuse me.” She motioned toward the door.

They exchanged another one of those looks before they left, shutting her in the room alone. Clearly, they knew each other very well as that silent form of communication was powerful. Their auras fluctuated in concert with one another, showing deep friendship and loyalty. Steve and Bucky were brothers in the truest sense of the word. Related by blood or not, they were bound together at the deepest level. She’d only ever seen such connection in twins.

Celine walked gingerly across the room, proud of herself for holding it together as well as she had been. She wasn’t fine after getting hit by the truck. She had expended an enormous amount of energy to keep herself safe, but she hadn’t been fast enough. She had lied when she’d said she didn’t need to feed for a few days. She needed to feed now and eating with the team would do nothing but prolong her agony. Tonight, she needed to get out. Hunt. Appease the pain in her middle before anyone noticed.

Opening her case, she pulled out a loose, emerald green dress, stripped off her clothes, and walked naked into the bathroom where she lifted her hair and turned to see her back. Bruises ran the length of her spine and more covered her hip where the truck had connected. “Fuck,” she hissed softly, aware of the powerful ears of the super soldiers beyond the door. This was not good.

Celine pulled the sundress over her head. It floated down around her. Its handkerchief hem swirling in points about her calves. Spaghetti straps held it up, the silk clinging to her curves and highlighting her breasts and returned to the bedroom for a short-sleeved sweater. It didn’t seem to matter what she wore, everything screamed sex due to her nature, but the light cardigan adequately covered the bruises on her upper back. Still, she left her hair down, adding another layer of protection to make it through the next few hours.

Before opening the door, she knelt to the floor and pressed her hand to the carpet, allowing her consciousness to flow down. She sought out anyone nearby she could extract a little chi from to get through dinner, but there was no one close enough except for those upon this floor. The building fairly hummed with life, but there were too many floors between her and them.

Gritting her teeth, Celine pushed to her feet, pasted on a smile, and walked out of the bedroom. She would do dinner, show no weakness, then see about getting out of here for a few hours.

***

Dinner had been far harder than she'd expected. Especially as she never did get to eat.

Wanda had pulled her aside the moment the three of them appeared, apologizing profusely for her part in what had happened. The contrition and guilt in the Scarlet Witch’s aura proved her words true.

Celine had accepted graciously, assuring Wanda there were no hard feelings. She was merely doing what had been asked of her.

Bruce had approached afterward, having heard from Steve and Bucky about her run-in with the truck. He'd bombarded her with questions, getting rather intense as his excitement in her uniqueness grew.

She was saved by, of all people, Stark, who took her by the elbow and overrode every protest Bruce made.

Tony had tugged her across the room, seating her at the bar where he'd flirted, being both contrite and condescending, his emotions and aura showing what he really felt for her. He was wary. He didn't trust she wasn't there to cause problems. He wasn't sure this alliance would work or was a good idea. And, though he looked at her and lusted, she was inhuman, the term the Avengers had been using for a mutant.

How right he was.

She was inhuman. So far removed from humanity they had now become her food source.

When he grew even more intense than Bruce had been, his snide, backhanded compliments beginning to sting, Celine lightly placed her hand on his, leaned forward and turned on her appeal. “I find you to be a highly condescending, swine of a man. As an empath, it is impossible to lie to me. Your false compliments and fake apology leave a foul taste in my mouth. You do not like, nor trust me. Fine. I am here at the request of Charles. His wishes mean far more to me than yours. You do not wish to take my word for it, but I mean this team no harm. I am here to work with you, but if you continue to work against me, I will not hesitate to knock you on your ass… Iron Man.”

He’d blinked a few times when the fog of lust she’d built around him evaporated, and the words she’d spoken registered. Then, surprisingly, he’d laughed. What negative emotions had warred in his aura changed, and the suspicion disappeared.

“About time you stood up for yourself.” He’d patted her hand and walked away, leaving her seat at the bar in shock.

It had been a test. How in the hell had he managed to make his aura appear so…? Her eyes drifted to the Scarlet Witch.

Wanda looked very guilty.

Rising from the bar stool, Celine stalked through the exterior doors. She was livid! They couldn’t probe her mind, so they devised another test to see if she was what she claimed to be.

How quaint! How contrite! How.... ingenious.

She couldn't stay mad when it truly had been a brilliant bit of manipulation and sighed when she walked to the railing to look out over the dark city. All the life which flowed below called to her. She could practically taste it.

“Natasha,” Celine murmured, not bothering to look at the woman who sidled up beside her.

The redhead studied her for a long moment. “What are you?”

Celine cocked her head. “What do you mean?”

“An Energy Vampire you said, but what you just did to Tony had nothing to do with chi.”

Observant. Spy.

Celine blinked slowly, continuing to hold the muted green gaze of the woman. “He was being rude. I simply set him straight.”

Her brow arched, disbelief coating her features. “Can you mesmerize people like in the vampire legends?”

Celine closed both hands over the guardrail. “Not in the way you are thinking.” She could alter memories of herself for those she'd fed on, and she could whip them into such a frenzied need, such a pool of lust they would walk off the edge of the building if she commanded it, but she could not take over their mind with a look. Once she let them go, their mind was theirs again.

Natasha stepped closer, the suspicion on her turning her aura into a beacon of red, blue, and yellow pulsing light.

Hunger had Celine’s hands clenching.

“I’m telling you right now, you do anything to endanger this team, I’ll gut you like a fish.”

“You are welcome to try, Widow, but you do not yet know who you are up against,” Celine warned.

“Why don’t you tell me then?” The muted green had turned harsh, challenging.

Celine hated being challenged. She knew exactly who she was, but if the Widow was so curious... “My name is Celine Ena. It was given to me by Charles when I was fifteen. It means fiery moon for darkness is my bedmate and the fire of chi my lifeblood.” Her skin began to glow, shimmer with her power as her hair began to curl. “Energy vampire was the moniker give me by the children I grew up with when their fear of me became great.” Natasha’s eyes widened, and Celine knew hers had begun to glimmer and spark with gold as the amber lightened in her irises. “But my chosen name, my X-men name, is known only to a select few.” Leaning down, she whispered near Natasha’s ear.

The redhead stumbled back away from her, and Celine straightened slowly.

“You hurt anyone on this team…” Natasha trailed off.

“Why would I hurt my own team? I have already told you, I do not feed on teammates. Steve, Bucky, and Peter have been most welcoming and kind.”

“And the rest of us?”

“You have shown me only fear and distrust. I will do my job, be here, work as part of this team, but I cannot change the minds of those who see me only as a monster. Who look at me with hate and disgust as you currently do. I am what I am. I had no choice in the matter. Yet, you would see me caged and collared because of something which was not my doing.” Celine sighed. “It matters not. I am here, and until Charles calls me home, I will stay.” She walked away, heading around the side of the building.

“Where are you going?” Natasha called.

“I require a walk. I do not require food.” And she was done dealing with people who saw her as a threat, or an experiment, or a challenge.

“You can’t leave.”

She jerked to a stop and peered through narrowed eyes over her shoulder. “Excuse me?”

“Didn’t Steve tell you? It was the deal made. You won’t let Wanda vet you, you have to stay where we can keep an eye on you. You’re on house arrest, Celine, until we’re satisfied we can trust you.”

She slowly closed her fists. Here, now, was the catch Steve had, indeed, failed to mention. What the hell was she going to do? “I see.” Celine headed back through the doors to the interior of the building and straight for the elevator.

“Celine?” Steve called out, jogging over with a smile on his face. “Where are you going?”

“As I’m being treated like a teenager, I thought I would go sulk in my room like one,” she snapped.

He had the decency to flinch. “Yeah, sorry about that. I meant to tell you, but… stuff happened.”

She shook her head. “I will not say it is fine. It isn’t. You treat me like an enemy. The fox who has snuck into the hen house. I mean none of you harm, yet you persist in testing me, probing at me, treating me as a thing to be mistrusted. I am a person, no matter how much my mutation has taken from me!” When he tried to take her arm, she jerked away, raked her gaze over the group in general, and walked out, getting on the elevator to return to her room.

Only once the doors closed did she lean against the wall and allow the single, heart-wrenching sob to slip from her lips. “Why, Charles? Why did you have to send... me?”

She was so tired of being hated and feared and loathed.

So very tired.

***

Bucky stormed over to Steve. “What the fuck just happened?”

“I don’t know, but I’m sure as hell going to find out.” Steve glared at Natasha as he stomped across the room. “What did you say to her?”

She didn’t even twitch in the face of his rage. “Standard greeting.”

“In other words, you threatened her. God damn it, Natasha!” Steve barked. “We’re trying to improve relations, not start a war!”

Her face closed down. “I’m not the one you need to be concerned with!”

“Celine is part of this team!”

“She shouldn’t be!” Natasha snarled.

Stunned, Steve took an involuntary step back. “Since when did you become so cynical?”

“Since I found out who she really is!” She pushed past Steve to look at the rest of them. “We should be sending her packing with a thanks, no thanks, back to Xavier.”

“Natalia! What the fuck’s wrong with you? Celine is nice. At least give her a chance,” Bucky stated.

She sneered at him. “You don’t get it.”

“Don’t get what?” asked Steve.

“She’s not just a Qi Manipulator or an Energy Vampire. She’s so much more, and you two are letting her live in the lion’s den!”

“Natalia, ob"yasnis'!” Bucky snapped.

“Explain myself? Sure, Barnes. I’ll explain myself. She’s the one they call Styx!”

The only one to react was Clint who sat straight up. “She’s Styx?”

“What is a Sticks?” asked Thor.

A frustrated growl left Nat’s chest. “None of you read the files on the X-men, did you?”

“I read it, but I don’t remember a Sticks,” Bucky grumbled.

“Nor I,” said Wanda.

“Styx, like the river goddess of ancient Greek mythology. The mutant whose moniker is denoted by that name is said to be called this name because all life flows through her. She is, essentially, the gateway to the afterlife.” Vision recited.

“That’s it?” Steve asked.

“Styx has remained a mystery for most of her existence as an X-men. She prefers to work alone, under cover of darkness. It is said only that she can sweep a building within minutes, leaving behind severely weakened or dead agents in her wake. It is said she can look at a man and see his life, his soul, then she chooses. Life… or death.”

“Cool.”

They all turned to look at Scott.

“What?” he shrugged a shoulder. “If she’s so powerful, isn’t it better to have her on our side instead of against it?”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Sam sighed, shaking his head, “but the bug is right. She seems nice enough, maybe a little cool, but we haven’t exactly been welcoming either.”

“She’s lonely.” Wanda looked away when all eyes swung to her. “I could pick up her emotions a little when she was speaking with Tony.”

“Wanda’s right. Celine expected us to turn on her. It’s what everyone does. She said as much when she was with Peter and me in the park. This shit right here,” Bucky motioned to the room, “is fucked up. We’re supposed to a team, but all some of you have done is make her feel like shit. Well done.” Turning on his heel, Bucky walked away.

“Someone’s smitten,” Natasha snorted.

“Nat,” Steve said, waiting for her to look at him. “You’re acting like a bitch.” Her eyes widened as the others gasped. “You got issues? You got insecurities? You got a problem with her being here? Then solve it, because Celine is going to be here for the foreseeable future. Xavier wants this to work, I want this to work, and Stark you were pushing for it too. Stop testing her!” He glared at Tony.

“I’d just feel better if Wanda could…” Tony sighed, flicking a wrist in dismissal. “I’ll fix it.”

“Good.” Steve looked around the room at all the contrite faces. “She’s here. She’s staying. Get it together.” Without another word, he followed Bucky out of the room.

Next Chapter

#qi flows for her #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #Steve Rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america #captain america fanfiction #the winter soldier #the winter soldier fanfiction #X-men #x-men au #x-men fanfiction #Avengers #avengers au #avengers fanfiction #crossover

239 notes · View notes

davidcameron · 4 years ago

Text

David Cameron is walking down a hall in his big house. This hall - painted slate grey with a plum accent wall - leads from his bedroom to the guest bedroom and, because of ruddy corona, what a true shiter that has been, I mean, Christ almighty, a man can’t even go into a branch of Budgens and pick up a four pack of Red Stripes, a mint aero, some of those jalapeño pretzels, a Dr Pepper, one of those 500ml bottles, maybe some chewits, what else?, can’t even do that without having to put a bloody mask on, because of this effing corona, because of that the guest bedroom has been basically out of action for, gosh, getting on for a year now with this business, and David Cameron has quietly claimed the space for himself, creating a type of rec room, a type of, dare he say it, rumpus room, dad shack, den - and don’t say “of iniquity”, don’t say, “uhh, yeah, of iniquity”, in that sardonic tone, you don’t need to fill in jokes or telegraph jokes like you’re John fucking Virgo on Big Break, remember that?, “commentator’s eye” they would say when he correctly telegraphed a ball’s trajectory, there’s no need to provide your own jokes - man cave, dude ranch, for himself, even though he’s already got his games room, his office upstairs, his shed-cum-home-office out the back, and the second drawing room is basically his, and he has begun to move a few of his things - a couple of beanie babies (Schweetheart, Bananas, Kicks the bear), a life-size gorilla plush named Dazzle, a few Boofle bears and a couple of Boofle dogs, some Garfields and a big Snoopy he got in America - and has arranged them in such a way that the space utterly screams “David Cameron”.

But David Cameron won’t reach that rumpus-cum-man-cave in this story because check this out: about three quarters of the way down the hall (it’s a long hall), David Cameron encounters the ghost of his father. The ghost is dressed in fishing waders and both David Cameron and the ghost are wearing identical camel coloured bucket hats. “Daddy,” David Cameron says, in a high, wheedling voice (alright, look, “a high wheedling voice” you’re like, “errr…”, you’re like, “uhhhhhh… isn’t his voice already… I mean, come on… doesn’t his voice already sound… I mean… y’know… come on…. isn’t his voice already pretty…” that’s what you’re doing, but look, for this scene to have a moment of high pathos - like Balzac - it’s imperative that one is able to imagine, while reading it, that David Camerons’ voice is even higher and more wheedling than usual, that he is speaking as he spoke when he was a child, if you can take your Saturday Nigh Live-addled mind out of brothel of Twitter quips - “ooh, eleven hundred people have made the feral hog joke, so here’s my go at a feral hog joke”; not everything is a fucking joke, okay? Not everything has to be a fucking bit, you know? It’s impossible in this dog of a year, this crapper of a year, this toilet of a year, to write about David Cameron speaking in a high, wheedling voice without some quote unquote left Twitter Medium centrist dad Gawker Clickhole Deadspin quote unquote comedian seeing it, going haha, tapping their phone back to the Twitter app and posting something like, “what about if the feral hog said im baby” - then maybe you’ll be able to see this as a genuine emotional moment of David Cameron confronting the one true demon that we all have: the past) “Susie was mean to me again today, she said… she said I smelled of wee, Daddy,” just as he had said some decades ago, stood in the kitchen of his family abode in front of his father. Back then, his father, who was still alive at the time, had basically just told David Cameron not to worry about it and, anyway, little Susie’s mum was a complete bitch, doesn’t even say hello when you see her in the M&S queue, which you’d think she would after we had her whole hideous family at the garden party last year. Now though, in the present, the ghost of David Cameron’s father, whose face, in fact, though now wanly, yellowly ectoplasmic, translucent, resembles very strongly a particular Boofle dog, crouches down into, let’s say, warrior pose from yoga, the one where you bend your knee at the front and… just Google image search it if you can’t picture it, places his hand, his forehand… the hand that he has at the front… he places a hand on David Cameron’s shoulder, and it has a forlorn, yellowish coldness to it, a depthless cold, a fractal cold, spinning off out of itself like the fronds of a Romanescu cauliflower. “Son,” he intoned (said), “I have a sorry tale to tell you. Son,” he went on, sadly, a depthless sadness, a fractal sadness, like thinking about which came first: the chicken or the egg (it’s the egg, because that hatched into the chicken. But hang on, who laid that egg? Alright it was a chicken then. But where did that chicken come from? It came from an egg, so it must be the egg that’s first. Ah but…) “Many years ago your ancestor and mine, old Bobby “Fat Bob” Cameron was the first man in the world to operate a flushing toilet. In those days, almost as ignorant as our own, nothing was known of the so-called ‘toilet plume’, the efflorescence of urine that is thrust into the world by the toilet in the same manner that your wife’s Chanel Number Five is forced from its crystal vial, hangs in the air and drapes all over her… Anyway, son, as I was saying, little was known of the toilet plume in those days, and, being the very first - as we Camerons often are - old Bobby Cameron was enveloped in a rich fug of his own feculence, a real - as they said in those days - pea souper. Pee souper. Haha. Ahaha. Sorry son, whenever I tell this story I have to pause to laugh at that moment, even though what I am about to tell you is truly no laughing matter. At that moment the Cameron family, in everything they are and everything they do, was forevermore - because of the hubris of man in creating a device which effortlessly concealed his privations and unmentionables - cursed to faintly hum of piss, irregardless of whatever bathing or other self care routines they may take part in. I can’t believe I was laughing just now because as you can see, son, it’s a really bad curse. I must leave you now, son, you’re on you’re own. See you. Bye.” David Cameron, his eyes wet, looks upon the visage (face) of his ghostly father, its yellow hue now browning, as the leaves do in October or as piss does if you’re dehydrated, and, as it browned (like a pork chop does in the pan), it began to fade, eventually disappearing, gone, leaving the astonished David Cameron alone.

And was there - almost imperceptibly - the faintest tang of urea in the hallway? Was this ghost truly his father? Was this curse, this awful curse, real? Could what David Cameron just witnessed be merely the result, the excrescence, even, of the late night feast of three quarters of a jar of black olives, two pepperami wideboys and a Bombay badboy pot noodle that still roiled inside him? Was his own father fated to appear only as a vaporous yellow cloud, a fine mist of the type that you would give a treasured fern, but piss? Was he, David Cameron, and everything he had ever done and everything he would ever do, fated to stink of piss? Were those moments when, after a hefty one at the ballot box during PMQs he would sit down next to George, and George would give him a particular look, was that not just resting bitch face - which, by the way, he totally does have, whatever he and his Evening Standard cronies might protest - but his querulous nostrils registering that unwanted tang and recoiling, however much Comme des Garcons Wonderwood David Cameron had spritzed all over himself? David Cameron stands in his empty hallway (slate grey with a plum accent wall), and ruminates about the past and the future, thinks about piss, toilets, stinks, stands there for eleven or twelve minutes until his wife comes bounding up the stairs. “Ah, darling, she says, I’ve been looking for you, I just wondered if…” she stops right in front of David Cameron and also stops what she was saying and her eyes dart around, her nose twitches, and a look of revulsion and concern crumples her otherwise Hellenic (David Cameron has always thought) visage, “Oh no,” she says, “Oh dear, has the dog gotten up here again?”

1 note · View note

brokenhayatim · 5 years ago

Text

comfort, control & a little light

[now playing: west by sleeping at last]

there’s a sense of me not liking being cared for bc perhapppsss i feel like i owe you something then. i don't like being indebted to people even if it doesn't seem so to you bc of relationships being “without strings”. the strings that are very much there for me will haunt me. then i feel like i owe you myself so i stay and i do something to make myself feel useful to you, maybe too much but one day, the attachment i have to you needs to be severed. the sooner the better.

i sort of knew i was a control person but it has come to my attention that maybe i do it too often. everything seems to be about control somehow and if im not on top it's too risky. and i don't win for pleasure but from on fear. that's slowly morphed into me just being me. i say i have this thing where if something isn't net balanced or me in the positive above you, i won't pursue i don't want in. it prevents growth and closed doors and prevents me from amazing things and people yeah but so what?

its also the reason i hate sudden change bc i feel not in control and when i find myself not in control, i panic and can't breathe and i want to scream shutup to everyone around me before i make a move. its not necessarily a bad thing and i don't do it to hurt people, but i can manipulate situations/outcomes really well. i choose my words, i never give too much, im cautious. my therapist says i wear masks around nearly everyone but ive been wearing them since before the third grade so we’ll have to excuse me for currently not knowing how to be a normal human and not wanting to release them..honestly, i don't know how to act without them and sometimes i wish i really really did.

when people care for you they give and what do you do? take. and i hate taking. ive been told that's all i do once - through essentially a threat - so please don't give. one of the ways people think not to give is if they don't think they can or should. u cant give comfort for pain without the pain. so maybe that's why i hate being cared for because someone else is put in control with me in pain, and i hate attachments so i’d rather you didn’t. apparently, there’s a mix of me thinking i deserve all of my pain as some punishment but..... sometimes i hate how unconsciously calculated i always am even around people i don't want to be. ive gotten so good at lying and hiding that ive just morphed into omitting so much of everything.

[cue the waterworks] i think growing up where and how i did, i really wanted people to see me for something else. i can't even tell if that was me - i blended into so many people so well. i remember the first time i felt my personality was honest for the first time in my life and that was senior year of high school. senior yea r. and then i closed up like a little bug again. i had people know and like me bc of who i showed them and it felt good. i didn't even use the word abuse till late last year. it's like this fantasy world i wanted to live in for so long caught up to me dissociating it all. if you show people your best face, they won't want to leave, right? ive lived in the negative for too long - that feeling of weakness or helplessness or always on edge for something to panic for next. so the minute i found control, i held it and i grew it and i ran away. i ran away and distanced myself from everything behind for months. sometimes i get really bad panic attacks when i think about this “independent” person falling back. then i think myself stupid for thinking i actually was this whole time. i just want to be free of it for once you know. so id rather you not accompany me to the hospital even if i died in that bed, or ask me if im okay when im in pain or ramble ten solutions for help. bc i don't want help from anyone. im fine. it's fine. i can do it by myself.

its funny how it all is. the way i think of everything first with having an expiration to plan for. i sometimes imagine ways things will end in the most realistic settings and then i imagine the blow. i make jokes about it, but im really not a long term person not in the way people deserve or need. and i like it that way, that unattached feeling of being in control, even if sometimes it doesn't end so. i never gave and took more than enough. and yet, i still blame myself. ive had the start of many relationships be of me wanting people to like me enough to be their friend and i gave them the best, some of them i still have and some not.

i met noor in a few days this month years ago and i don't think she’ll ever be able to know that she’s the single most best part of my life. and we started out with her being terrible at communication but there was always this tether of me knowing something was good here. i remember both moments i felt it and where i was. every year was just plagued with me knowing it would eventually end and she would go and it was this familiar sense of fear but almost worse. and i try to be optimistic, i really do, just not when it comes to me. i plan for the worst so it doesn't slap me in the face. i have a blind spot sometimes and that's a flaw, but i remember being less afraid and realizing that importance one day. i was just standing near the window of this backroom upstairs in the house and it was new and strange and did i mention strange? i mentioned it but i don't think it'll ever hold the weight it genuinely held in her mind - as she isn't in mine. but it felt like doing something so mundane for the first time and having it mean the world and the feeling was almost paralyzing. she’s the first person i wish i’d knocked down the wall and taken off all the masks sooner for and the only one right now. and sometimes i genuinely hate myself for it, i hate that i cant and i don't know how to and it seems so incredibly stupid bc it seems so easy but it's hard. so hard for me. you shouldn't have to struggle this hard to be something so simple to someone else, right? its hard to explain something like that. i know i protect myself but i didn't know how powerful that barrier was. how weak i seem to fight against it. sometimes i have moments of thinking this is it - the good run, and i literally prepare myself. i imagine all the worst scenarios and i psyche myself into thinking it was better for me, her, us. i have those still but not often. and it's crazy, right? that ‘not often’. i don't have a flight or fight response bc im used to fleeing, in the good, the rocky and the bad. i don't stay and fight when it comes to me, but i fight for us a lot. ive fought for people before and lost, mostly because i purposefully come to battle with just my hands. it was a weak attempt i knew wouldn't last. but i want to be better and i want to fight better, or maybe just stay longer on the battlefield and take the beatings. but at least im there. at least i haven't given up and gave it all i had. it might not be all im worth and i may still keep some weapons at bay, but with what i got, i want to give it my all. sometimes i write something and delete it twelve times when i want to ask for help or seek some sort of comfort; but im also used to not feeling important enough to receive that, even though i know that won't happen. sometimes when i don't get what i want or can't control that, i retreat and never say anything. she’s tough and i love that about her. but im also used to falling weak to tough people and sometimes the smallest things hurt or scare me bc i have those burns. i think im less in control around her and its scary for me bc im not used to that. but im also strangely okay with that bc i feel safe for once. i feel more than safe. and that means nothing more than something sappy i know. but when you grow up with violence in your home and on your mind, it feels so nice to just have that not in your heart for a minute. its something of light and she’s given me many minutes that i don’t deserve. that’s why i love her name. bc it is her by every definition in every way. i would love to be my name that i say i love, but im not there. and i don't know if ill be someone that heals if im still living in this body. but, if she isnt the best part about me..i don't know what it is. she’s my best friend. i would give her all the keys and she would be the first person to walk through the doors of this haunted house - fearlessly in the dark with a borrowed lantern still held near her heart.

#i was crying thru half of this but ill proofread one day #asiya's thoughts

0 notes

chikotos · 8 years ago

Text

speaking of That my mom is finally recognizing that when I say “i dont feel good” it doesnt mean i have a cold or sth its that Uh, im probably experiencing suicidal thoughts and cant express it well (or at least smth along those lines) and my house has been dirty cuz i havent cleaned in a while or i cant keep it clean and she n my sister cleaned an area and i repeatedly told her not to bc shes always using my sister to do things im not adequate enough to do on time and its rlly not fair to her even if she doesnt realize it cuz like shes only 12 & we dont ever even talk so she shouldnt have to take care of someone 5 years older than her.. and i was gonna clean but I basically slept all day so i could just clean alone at night when I feel safe to walk around the house . i wasnt even tired idk why i slept but now im eerily awake and maybe will be umless i force myself to sleep

its so lonely here and thats only hit me like this year cuz all the time before I would go through periods of hanging out after school maybe.. twice a year? and only hanging out with one person whod have many friends but theyd b my only friend which is a problem i tend to have. but it jst got to the point where im realizing, i think cuz i was in my schools drama program n exposed to lots of friendships, that im jst like ,really fucking lonely. Which is unfortunate because ive always been such an internal person at home and have been able to work creatively but thats all like leaving me? art doesnt make me happy anymore because i dislike my art so much and havent had a platform to share it in so long and i guess I thrive on other ppls opinions of it? and I definitely cant write anymore. I havent been able to zone in on an interest in MONTHS and thats left me creatively drained, a lot.

I think im starting to rlly, RLLY redirect my complete attention from interests to ppl (which always ends well am i right lads) and it isnt fair to ppl who like, have others and need space and time etc or Uh, dont even know me. but its like a switch like , I can either be creative or i can feel loved and Boy Howdy, do i need both,

its just weird cuz im the only one in my family thats emoitonal like this and I think thats why i feel so isolated. like im not exxagerating when I say my dad has 0 friends tht arent family. my mom has work friends she will hang out with maybe 4 times a year not for work, but shes always complaining abt social situations which I can understand. maybe my siblings r like that too but my sisters young n focuses on minecraft n stuff n hangs out w friends more than me n we barely know each other so its not like id know, maybe my half brother is but whens the last time hes wanted to talk to me right. like i cry all the time and all it does is make my dad angry at memfor being incompetent and make my mom think its her fault and my sister confused and jst takes up everyones time

and its jst all v strange. like i was kinda raised 2 not have friends, inadvertantly i guess. i can remember my mom trying to make me feel better about something along the lines of u can b okay w/out friends if u have family but she jst told me friends dont matter and im never gonna talk to ppl i meet at my age as an adult, so it stuck w/ me and i started to make moral judgements on ppl on small things we could talk out like say, they use homophobic language sometimes but im sure theyd respect me enough to stop, but id make those judgements before we could befriend each other n take a chance, kinda to protect myself from attachments? but later in life ive found ppl who dont do stuff like that, and thats when i focus in on them im an unfair way to them and they r the only person/group of ppl in my life, etc etc and idk how to stop because im so scared of hanging out w/ most ppl alone i guess? but ill still be here, thinking about like example (namedrop bc he doesnt have me tumblr anyways) my friend jacob tht never hung out w/ me outside of school but i fuccin loved that kid n he just stopped talking to me over the summer n ignored my text i send first day of summer and now we see each other and talk briefly but its like he wont let us be friends anymore and smth like this always happens and its So

and tbh how can i expect it to not happen when i limit myself so much n they will have plenty of other close close friends when i dont? and i think ive gotten better but idk anymore.

and uh, unrelated. I think my dog ive had for 12 years may have to end up being put down this year. hes got cataracts in both eyes and skin diseases and back problems and teeth problems (hes inbred) and hes losing his hearing too and for the past two weeks hes been peeing everywhere and we can let him out but he cant climb stairs anymore n he has to walk them to get to our yard and im the only one w/ the patience to pick him up (hes only 8 pounds) n put him in the yard bc my parents will jst scream at him n my sister doesnt like dogs and hes got seperation issues w me and whines when he cant be in my room which is the farthest from the door out n stuff. and its like rlly stressful my mom will scream at him in front of my sister n brother n me and the other day she said my dad grabbed him by the neck and threw him out on the concrete cuz he peed inside and hes so tiny that thats just gonna make everyting worse and its notmlike i can stop them bc why would anyone listen to me and hed prob b fine for s few more years if he lived in a patient house with ppl who would take him to the vet but theyre prob gonna put him down early snd its gonna b so weird w/out him

when i showered earlier i took s razor with me w/ the intent to cut my thighs, and i did a little, but i never ever draw blood wnd its strange. why am i given these urges when im so fucking terrified of blood. itll still leave marks n stuff but it makes me feel weak ? n ill bruise myself up instead but its never the same. and im such an advocate for help w self harm but i cant for myself. its like i subconsciously want 2 get caught ? idk. i did throw my razor away though and the others i have r rusty and im not THAT much of a dumbass so i dont have options to self harm anymore unless i get new ones. lifehack

and uh lol, having no schedule n it being summer my eating habits r SHIT. it always hurts to eat p much, its at different times n most of the time i just snck only or i dont eat for hours n see black spots n stuff. and when i dont eat its not a body image thing (im nt rlly happy w my nody but its not sth not eating will help with) its cuz i dknt wanna go upstairs for food where my dad is n the snacks r downstairs so its easier, or cuz i forget or cuz i like, want to punish myself? but im too lazy to self harm. its weird

n since ive stopped id’ing as ace officially my internalized lesbophobia has gotten so much worse . im so repressed and lost ans sad, nothinng rly makes sense? I either fall in love w/ anyone who flirts with me or i focus on someone who ill never fucking talk to or see again and imagine countless scenarios n set myself up to b sad. i seek validation from ppl on it but nothhing comes out right or i just cant say it, because other than when i make myself the butt of gay jokes i just cant sven get the words out of my throat that im gay cuz im jst so ashamed and disgusted with myself. ive been looking at pictures of guys lately cuz ive been trying to force myself to like them. back when i thought i was pan it always felt safer bc i could always just love a cis guy or whatever and everything would b okay for my family ykno. and its such a shameful thing for me bc my irl friends who im out to, most see me as v confident abt it at least a little bc im loud abt it u kno, and make all sorts of jokes, and i jst know so many would b surprised or like sad abt that

i want to stop liking girls so much. like holy shit. i have so many straight girl friends and i hate it when they flirt with me because lik, none r my type so i feel nothing but then i feel like i shiuld then feel like No i shouldnt then feel like i shouldnt even be around them bc im a gross disgusting creepo dyke predator. n they always use the excuse of me having a gf so its fine id never hit on them well like, now im single so i have to be DOUBLE careful not to b affectionate w them as im w all my friends and itsssssssssssssmjshfjhdjfhsjdhjshdjshdjhsjdhsjhdjshdk

and i like, think abt this girl alot n yea its romantic even thomwe never fucking talked n rlly i do that w lots of girls and its making me lose out on friendships bc i wanna b their friends somehow bc i think theyre very cool n stuff but i cant stop hodling on to stupid daydreams n idealizations i get to distract me when im sad n its jst stupid like i know its dumb but guess whos boutta keeeeeeppppp doin it??!!!!! boy!!!

and i try so damn hard to talk feeling out, n talk abt who im attracted to n stuff w ppl, n i try so hard to gush but i cant cuz smth comes outta my mouth and then i cant speak past that and no one ends up rlly knowing how i feel, bc ANY time i talk abt anytingngay related abt me its what happens. and i listen to others talking abt tht stuff and i jsut get so god damn JEALOUS bc idk how to express myself

all these inadequacies n shit is making it rlly hard to see how,im gonna b on my own n its always been like this. at TWELVE YEARS OLD i came to fhe fucking conclusion that i was just gonna kill myself when i turned 18 so i didnt have to deal with all this and i was OKAY WITH IT and i just went through life knowing that and hiding it and so rarely questioning my inevitable suicide as a childc so instead of dealing with all that n my problems n getting better i let myself get worse cuz uh, fuck it right

idk its all just occured to me how im not a fully functioning human being, in seberal if not all aspects of my life, its weird. now that I actively want to live and realize i uh Kinda have to simce ill b the legal guardian of my brother its all very scary

sorr i was all over the place and all the typos i didnt mean anyof them n im not crytyping like, i cried a bit but i jst hate typing kn thsi shitty tablet keyboard, n dont wanna spellcheck. if u read through comgratulations also please dont message me abt like the self harm junk n my dog n stuff like, whatever ur abt to say. I Know my guy

time to go uhhhhhhhhhhh daydream about impossible gay shit with guilt in the back of my mind

#personal #animal abuse/#self harm/#other stuff probably i guess #nya #its long uhh full disclosure i sjt wanted to feel like i was talkin 2 someone nyall can ignore this

1 note · View note