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burnedbyshoto · 4 years ago

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sleeping beauty

— You struggle to find a time to have sex with your beloved Aizawa. Unfortunately or fortunately, the only time you can fuck him is when he’s deep asleep.

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pairing: aizawa shouta x yandere fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, pwp, yandere!reader, non-con somnophilia, hairy aizawa rights, recording

word count: 4,201

a/n: mark ur calendar, im getting my nipples pierced nov 8. you bet ur ass imma write a bunch of nipple pierced readers from there on out. pray that my family never finds out about my nipples tho LMAO if they do,,, it;ll be ripped out of my boobies without a seconds hesitation

kinktober day 19 main kink: somnophilia | kinktober masterlist

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Aizawa was always busy.

Over the past ten years of knowing him, the two of you had been close. You were a good friend to him, someone he wouldn’t absolutely avoid at all costs when you walked through the hallways of UA, someone he wouldn’t mind rambling to him about their long day. Of course, you knew that you weren’t his closest friend, and to a certain degree, that upset you.

You had met Aizawa when you had first been a high school student; at the time, you were merely fifteen years old. He was twenty, only five years older than you, but he took your breath away from the first team-up. He had been tall, dark, and brooding, and your little coming out of an emo phase heart stood no chance. But, due to the age discrepancy, he was never anything more than a team member. Still, you held on.

You graduated from high school, made your impact as a sidekick, graduated to a Pro Hero, and offered a job at UA by the time you were twenty! So, for the past five years, you and Aizawa had been actual co-workers, and better yet, friends.

Aizawa indeed was one of a kind.

He still held the key to your emo school girl fantasy daydream, but you also discovered new sides and angles of him. You learned he was incredibly kind, thoughtful, and looked out for everyone, even if his gruff and sometimes rude mannerisms spoke otherwise. Although he tried to avoid any type of nonsensical drama like the plague, he was always caught up in it, which often amused you.

There was so much about Aizawa that you loved, so much that you adored and looked up to that it was no surprise that you figured your feelings of respect and admiration became love.

True, deep love.

As a third-year teacher at UA, you found that your interactions with Aizawa were quite limited. Not only because he was always being placed with a first-year class and said class moving on without him — something that only happened because he kept expelling the damn students — but because he was incredibly close with the first-year teachers.

You loved Present Mic and Midnight and All Might, don’t get it wrong! Your admiration, love, and respect for them were unprecedented, but you hated how much of Aizawa’s time they took.

“Sorry, Mic needs help with lesson plans for my class,” Aizawa apologized for postponing your lunch date, not a date.

“Sorry, Midnight needs help separating the problem children. Apparently, they’re growing an immunity to her quirk,” Aizawa grumbled, shoving his phone into his pocket before leaving your office where you both had been talking and drinking tea.

“Sorry, All Might—”

“It the class, your problem children, I get it,” you force a smile onto your face, trying not to show just how irritated and disappointed you were on how these days were going. Aizawa pauses for a second, his tired, dried out eyes trying to read and uncover the depths of emotions swimming in your eyes before he sighs and runs off.

But it went without saying that the people you hated most were Class 1-A.

The damn stupid, fucking, ungrateful class had already caused your beloved Aizawa to be hospitalized. The scar under his eye, a numbing reminder that you had nearly lost him, almost had to cry at his coffin with your feelings never once being uttered. They, without a doubt, took up his time the most.

He saw potential in all of them, none of them being failed or expelled by him thus far.

He spent countless hours up in the dead of night tracking each and every one of his student’s potential. Slaving away at his tablets to make sure that they all were feeling safe, heroic, and above all, they were headed to their individual greatness. So, although it would be two more years before you would have the opportunity to teach this class, you already had a vendetta against Midoriya Izuku and Bakugou Katsuki. Those little shits always taking up your precious Aizawa’s time! He had never been this tired prior to them showing up!

But you never tried to think about it when you were with him.

You tried to openly accept your Aizawa’s new, incredibly busy schedule, and the moment the dorms appeared within UA, you found yourself more at ease.

To be frank, since you acknowledged your love for Aizawa at the mere age of twenty, and now at twenty-five, you had never taken on a lover or a one night stand. For years you had not allowed a person to grace you in bed or in their arms. It felt like you were betraying your love, and you would rather die than let that happen.

But the thing is, you are human, entirely susceptible to waves of uncontrolled horniness and lust.

In the beginning, sex toys worked.

You would press a vibrator to your clit, your toes digging into the mattress as your other hand shoved a silicone dildo into your aching, needy cunt. At first, it worked! You would cum with the thoughts of Aizawa being the dildo buried deep within you.

But eventually, you would find yourself at the peak of that orgasm, you knew the orgasm was right beyond the bend, just a step more, but you couldn’t get there. For weeks you realized that the vibrator, the dildo, and your fantasy thoughts weren’t enough. So, in your frustration, you began to search up audio plays of his narration at UA Sports Festival. Listening to his voice, ignoring Mics’ voice, to help coax you over that bend.

For a while, you were back to normal. Your highs and juices splattering all over your bed, a symbol of your lust and love for Aizawa as you gasped his name, wishing that the audio was real. But eventually, even the audios weren’t enough.

You craved Aizawa’s warmth, the feeling of his rough stubble against your sensitive skin, the throbbing of his cock buried deep within your womb, undoubtedly kissing your cervix. You wanted him; you needed your beloved.

As if by the grace of God, the moment you could no longer bring yourself to cum through that alone, the dorm system was put into place. And you, a teacher, were required to live on campus too. You tried not to think of Aizawa being a dorm away, tried not to feel the warmth fluttering under your skin when the two of you bid goodnight for the day.

You definitely tried to stay out of his room in the middle of the night.

God, you wish you could say that you stayed out of his room, but that would be a lie.

A big fat fucking lie.

It had started out innocently enough, you will claim.

You would see the exhausted man wave goodnight, grumbling that he needed to sleep now or else he would not wake up on time for homeroom tomorrow morning. You waved goodnight to him, trying to stay engrossed in a conversation you were having with Hound Dog. But an hour after Aizawa had gone to bed, you found yourself rushing away from the common room, explaining you had something to grade as you bid everyone goodnight.

Without a doubt, you ended up in Aizawa’s room that night.

In the darkness of the night, you watched the moonlight barely breach the thickness of his curtains to fall onto his face. You felt so warm as you stared at his slumbered face, your cheeks flushed as you watched his parted, chapped lips. You felt so light watching his chest rise and fall in a hypnotizing rhythm, reminding you that he is real, so very, very real. A part of you aching, knowing that he was entirely real and yet not yours. But still, you admired the way he looked so young, so intense, so ethereal as he dreamed.

You loved him.

Eventually, when you decided to leave, you pressed a kiss to his lips, smiling at the way his lips were exactly as you had imagined:

Supple, warm, and tasting of his mint toothpaste.

But the nightly visits didn’t stop there.

Most nights, you found yourself in his room, laying by his side, merely watching as he slept. No orgasm in the world felt quite as fulfilling as the quiet that came with just watching the over-exhausted Aizawa sleep.

But this is not a story of simple love, no, not at all.

Eventually, you began to grow bold. Your fingers sinking into your wet cunt, playing with your sensitive clit as you watched him sleep. You bit your lip to keep yourself from moaning as a rasped breath expelled from his mouth. You nuzzled into the warmth of his body heat through at you and only prayed he would one day acknowledge and return your affections.

To be quite honest, you’re not sure when you began to suck him off too.

Maybe it was the first time his cock grew long and hard in the middle of the night, his mind undoubtedly having a wet dream. So, as his beloved, you only thought it was appropriate to give his body what he wanted. With the skills and intentions that could only arise from being a gifted Pro Hero, you pulled the blankets from his body and pushed his cock through the slit in his boxers, and took him all in your mouth.

His cock was absolutely mouthwatering too.

So big, so thick, so incredibly veiny that you nearly lost all control the first time you saw it in all its glory. He was better than any dildo you owned, his scent alone driving you crazy. And so, as you should, you began to fuck him, completely addicted to his aroma, taste, and touch.

After the first night, you continued to blow him. Continued to suck him off as Aizawa let out sleepy moans, grunts that were strained, his body shifting unknowingly as you continued to go up and down his length, continuing to relieve him of his stress.

But you were human.

A human with needs and desires, and eventually, his cum coating your throat and filling your stomach wasn’t enough anymore. Which is where we find ourselves now, unashamedly fucking Aizawa each and every night, your cunt swallowing him whole, without a single shred of doubt of what was wrong with this.

There wasn’t anything wrong with this, and you knew that even if he was asleep the entire time you fucked him, it was for the better.

“Wow, Eraser!” Mic yelled from your side as you sat on the couch next to your beloved best friend. “You look like you’re glowing!”

Looking up from your phone, attempting to portray yourself as curious and unknowing, you found your gaze falling onto Aizawa, who had returned from an early evening training session with his class. As a matter of fact, Aizawa’s face was glowing; he looked incredibly much more relaxed, much more than he has been since the beginning of this semester.

“What do you mean?” Aizawa asked, evidently unimpressed as a lone eyebrow raised.

You watched on quietly, lips pressing to your cup as you took a drink of your tea as he sank onto a seat in front of you.

“Wait, don’t tell me, listeners!” Mic gasped dramatically, his hands pressing to his cheeks as he stood up. His expression of shock and disbelief curling and becoming one of knowing and understanding. “Does our grouchy, one and only, Aizawa Shouta, a.k.a. Eraserhead, have a special someone?!”

“Mic—” Aizawa snapped, his eyebrows furrowing.

“There definitely has been an after-sex glow that Eraser has had for the past few weeks. He did say that he’s been feeling more… ahem, relaxed,” Midnight gasped, seemingly appearing from nowhere, incredibly interested in the rumor of Aizawa having sex.

“Just because I’ve been feeling less tense doesn’t mean that I’m having sex.”

You giggled into your cup as the three of them began arguing, Mic and Midnights naturally loud noise quickly drowning out Aizawa’s fruitless attempts to shut down any sexscapades they were coming up with.

“Y/h/n, what do you think?!” Mic yelled, his hand pointed at you as if holding a microphone as Aizawa had him pressed and tangled within his capturing weapon. “Is Shouta-chan having sex?!”

Yes, your mind begs to say, but your mouth curls into a teasing smile, eyes locking onto Aizawa’s annoyed golden ones.

“I don’t think there’s anyone on this earth that Aizawa currently wants to fuck six feet into the mattress when he’s so busy,” you chide, your smile never entirely disappearing. At the same time, you take a long slow drink from your cup while everyone else (Mic only, really) continued to scream.

But you stayed there for the rest of the evening, working in silence with the rest of the group as next week’s lessons were laid out. Through a persistent, entirely stubborn will, Mic managed to get Aizawa to admit that he hasn’t had sex since the time he lost his virginity, to which Mic admitted to having had sex via orgies only. Midnight proudly announcing that she had a side piece at her disposal.

So as you checked through your lesson plans for the ethics book your students would be reading next week, you shouldn’t have been surprised to see their expectant gazes on you.

“I had sex last night,” you admit, unable to lie under their amused gazes.

“WITH WHO?! ARE YOU SNEAKING SOMEONE ON CAMPUS?!”

For the rest of the night, you smiled brightly, laughing with the rest of them all as talks and stories revolving around sex filled the air. It lasted until past midnight, and with a heavy sigh, Aizawa excused himself first. You waved goodnight, and soon Midnight left, followed by Mic.

You stayed on the couch, your own attention focused heavily on the time and not what you were supposed to be doing. It didn’t take much before the time faded from 00:00 to 01:45, and with a brush of your skirt, you headed precisely where you wanted and needed to be.

The walk to his second-floor room filled you with lust. Your body, like some Pavlovian dog, trained and knowing that you were about to fuck the love of your life while he slept. He was so beautiful while he slept, a true sleeping beauty. You especially thought he was stunning when he bit his lower lip, stifling a moan despite his heavy slumber.

Without so much as a second thought, you apparated into his room, your feet cushioned by the soft carpet of his room. And with a smile that was dripping with your love, you stared at Aizawa’s sleeping form. He was already deep in sleep, his body positioned on his back as if he knew what you were doing, accepting the inevitable actions you would take tonight as you did every night. He just looked so calm, so beautiful, so youthful when asleep. The scar under his eye almost invisible

But unlike most nights where he slept in a soft cotton long-sleeved shirt and sweats, you froze at the sight of the tight black t-shirt on his sleeping form, the shorts that were riding just the slightest bit too low on his sturdy, muscled hips. Your bit your fist, a bubbling heat of lust, and a whine tickling the back of your throat as you take in his sleeping form.

He was doing this on purpose.

Teasing you with this outfit on his sleeping body.

You huffed, inexplicably turned on as the small puffs of air past his lips seemed to thunder around the room.

You were wet already, so very wet.

“You’re so mean, Shouta-kun,” you whimper softly, your voice silent and unheard by his sleeping form. You walk closer to the bed, lips pulled into a pout as you sit on the soft mattress. “Dressing up like that, I know you did that to tease me!”

Aizawa doesn’t respond because, of course, he’s asleep. But you smile regardless, imagining a million and three things he would say in response, each leading to what you wanted to do so desperately.

“I hope you know you were lying when you said you haven’t had sex since you were twenty,” you sigh, your fingers expertly removing his shorts and boxers from around his waist, using your quirk to make them reappear to the side of him. “We have sex practically every night; you’re so horny, my angel.”

You watch with a curling smile as his cock immediately begins to stiffen against your warm breaths, his face scrunching in his slight discomfort as his cock grows and grows. His cock is undeniably one of your favorite parts of his body. It’s pale in color, paler than the rest of his body, but as it extended to the swollen thickness of his head, it grew darker, the flushed brown pinkness of his head making you salivate at the memory of the first time you ever saw it. His cock, unlike the rest of his scarred body, was unharmed, unmarred by the horrors of the job the two of you held. The thick, beautiful smoothness of his skin, making your eyes flutter in unadulterated lust, his cock a symbol of your pure, unmarked love for him. You hum, hand grasping his length and lazily stroking him as your head tilts, reading his sleeping features for any sign of him enjoying this as much as you do.

“Aww, Shouta-kun, I wish you knew I fuck you. I bet you would turn bright red, knowing that I ride you every night. Maybe you’d use that weapon of yours to teach me a lesson or two,” you mumble, your hand gripping his cock harder as you stroke him.

A small glistening drop appears at the slit of his dick, and you shiver in excitement; he was already leaking pre-cum.

“Look at you, already ready to have my cunt wrapped around that big cock of yours,” you mewl, absolutely ready to mount him, prepared to have his sleeping form cum deep within you. You stand up, removing your shorts and panties, and climbing onto the bed.

With the balance of a pro, you get yourself hovering over him, your already wet cunt shivering with the expectance of having him deep within you. Your hand on his cock never once stopping as you tease yourself against his swollen head, your voice a pathetic whimper as your slick mixes with his clear pre-cum.

“S-See how embarrassing you are!” you huff, rutting his length between his folds, lubing him up for the initial entrance because, by god, it still hurt. “Making my pussy so wet! I’m practically dripping all over you!”

There’s only a soft breath from his lips, but you grin as if he was speaking to you.

“You want me too, huh?” you giggle, and without further adieu, you sink against him.

His cock entering your tight cunt was still as mind-numbing as the first time. His cock easily buries into the small, thin wall of your cervix, and you tremble as his length stretches and pulls at your throbbing core. You can feel every curve in his cock, every vein, every gentle throb.

“Glad t-to know you find me… nnghh… find me i-irresistible,” you pant, face flushed with your desire to adjust quickly around him.

The conversation from tonight had made you entirely weak in the knees and hot at your core, knowing that you were the only one to really have claimed Aizawa, the only one who would ever know how his sleeping body craved you as much as you desired him.

You give a tentative swirl of your hips, your eyes trained on Aizawa’s relaxed ones, testing to see how tired and sleepy he was. There was no reaction, no movement outside of the typical grunt at the back of his throat. It was a noise he always made when you first moved with him, a noise that quickly seared in the back of your memory forever.

Shifting your weight to be more comfortable on your knees, your hot hands fall onto his tight chest, and with a sigh of pure relief, you begin to fuck him.

Your straddling aided the deep penetration, allowing for the gentle kiss of the tip of his leaking cock to your thin cervix wall. You clenched tightly around him, unable to keep yourself from doing so as you rode him, the feeling of his throbbing member within you absolutely breathing taking as you placed your claim on him again, again, and again.

Aizawa was fully sheathed within you, and your fingers twisted and pulled at the tight fabric of his shirt, raising it up so that you could admire his taut, tense abdomen, mewling at the way he’s happy trail was thick and bushy. You wondered how he would react to your fingers threading through his body hair, if he would love it; if he would hate it.

“I want you to know how much I love you, how much I would give everything to you!” you whimper, your head fighting the instinct to throw itself back as you begin to drop onto his still cock faster and faster. “I wish you knew that you fuck me so good, Shouta-kun; I need you to know that! But you won’t even look at me! You won’t spare me a single second of your busy day, so that’s why I have to fuck you at night!”

Tears of both pleasure and hurt well into your eyes; you sniffle as you fuck him faster, dropping onto his awaiting cock with more significant, more aggressive slaps. The sounds echo throughout the room, the musky, sweet smell of your sexes is the only thing keeping you sane — that and the grunting noises that Aizawa keeps emitting, it makes your toes curl and belly flutter in a funny way.

“I bet you’ll fuck me so good once I get you to love me! You’ll never stop fucking me, you’ll never want to leave me because only I know how to fuck you correctly!” you snap, anger and lust licking through your tone, making your eyebrows furrow and your walls to clench even tighter around him. The building tension in your stomach is like a fire, and you can feel your high coming. “But you fuck me so good, baby, so good and you’re not even awake!”

And for the first time, you watch in electrifying pleasure as a low, husky, raspy moan leaves his throat as you fucked him. The sound alone was something downright pornographic to you, and the whine that spills from your mouth is nearly inaudible with the pitch it vibrates at. So without so much as a second thought, a bubbling smile spreads on your face, and you continue on, energy and excitement doubled in your joy.

Your hips roll, rise, and fall against his with growing force and speed. The small creaks of the mattress completely ignored by you as the throbbing and twitching of his cock buried deep within you keeps you pushing for more. The heat and pressure in your belly grow exponentially, festering and burning until you can feel yourself at the tipping point until you can’t do anything but focus on Aizawa and only Aizawa, or else you would scream his name in your euphoria.

The veins on his cock and the overall girth of his length send your mind spinning, not at all helping your predicament, and in a last-ditch effort to keep yourself from crying so loudly you would wake up even the dead, you lean forward. Your sweaty body leaning down to his parted chapped lips as you kiss him to keep yourself silent as your orgasm crashes through you in a blissful wave. Your body spasms almost uncontrollably, the nerves and firing axons through your body uncontrollable as you lay there, allowing for Aizawa to cum before you leave. You shudder at the feeling of his cum emptying out within you, his cock immediately softening as you lay there on top of him. His heart racing with his orgasm, and you sigh contentedly.

“God, I love you so much, Aizawa Shouta; I’ll make you mine one day,” you swear, your nose nuzzling his stubbled cheek.

You lay there for some time, enjoying the way he feels in you, content with the pooling cum from your still spasming cunt. But eventually, you pull away. You pull on your panties and shorts quickly, not wanting a single drop more of his cum to seep out of you. Unable to help yourself, you lick the leftover cum on his cock clean with your tongue before wiping him down with a towel to prevent the smell from clinging.

Your eyes study Aizawa’s face just before you leave, and your smile.

He really does look less tired after orgasming.

But the entire time you were there — the whole night you fucked him and spoke to him — you missed the red blinking light of the camera recording in the corner of the room.

#aizawa x reader #aizawa smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #tw: somnophilia #bbs kinktober 2020

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youryanderedaddy · 4 years ago

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Imagine a yandere ghost who is cursed is trapped in the doll, so one day a family came to live in his house, but what the ghost did not expect is to fall in love with the couple's eldest daughter. Maybe this yandere ghost (doll) use the younger brother to get closer to his beloved...

I didn't really include the doll, but the overall idea is here ;)

Tw: nsfw, non - con, underage sex? (The reader is meant to be around 18, her brother is 16 - 17, but the ghost is 100+ so idk), (technically) incest, ghosts, possession, possessive/obsessive behavior, slight parental neglect ig

You knew it was a mistake moving into the old house up the hill. You tried arguing with your parents so many times about the mansion being hidden in the woods, so far away from any civilization, bringing up the fact it hadn't been bought for the last 8 years despite the insanely low price or the news about the previous owners dying in their sleep just like that, from "natural causes" even though they were an young energetic couple. But of course your worries had been discarded so easily since your younger siblings were ecstatic, constantly talking about finally living in a castle, which was obviously pushing it too far, but kids will be kids.

Your family was big, consisting of your mother, father, two younger sisters and a brother currently in his late teens. Your siblings managed to take all the nice bright rooms on the second floor so you were forced to sleep in the attic. At first it didn't seem so bad, yes, the place was dark and dusty, the space was limited, but it was a quiet spot and there were many interesting things left there to explore and discover.

The first week you discovered a huge box full of old books, medals, notebooks and different souvenirs from all over the world. The second week you found a few paintings covered by a thin disheveled cloak, most of them depicting a pretty young boy with golden locks and sad green eyes, dresses in an expensive silky clothing resembling what was nowadays considered an elegant suit. You didn't pay it much mind yet the miserable longing gaze of the kid haunted your dreams in the following days.

During the third week you noticed that things were going missing one by one. First it was your favorite lipstick, then your new dress, and suddenly your favorite items were gone just like that. On top of all, almost as if fate was tickling your paranoia, you could hear certain sounds at night that were too distorted be natural and too human to belong to an animal. There were sobs, loud and tormented, sometimes you could make up a few words in a language no one spoke anymore. You slept less and less each night, you could swear you felt someone's lingering touch on your shoulders, them gently stroking your hair and even pressing their cold unmoving lips on yours. This was usually the point when you opened your eyes and screamed in fear only to realize you were alone in the room. There was nobody there.

Still you decided to speak with your parents about the creepy events taking place in the attic. Much to your dismay they brushed your concerns off once again, laughing softly and calling you a scaredy - cat, going as far as to joke around about your "oh so creative" imagination getting the best of you just like it did in your childhood. But this time you insisted on holding your ground, almost begging them to take action and help you. At the end your mother decided to let you sleep in your brother's room for a while until you calm down, and as embarrassing it was to share a room with a hormonal teen, it was better than constantly being on the edge and losing sleep. Or so you thought.

The first night you slept in Steve's room nothing out of the ordinary happened and for the first time in weeks you actually managed to rest. The second night was blissfully peaceful as well and you quickly fell into a deep dreamless slumber.

The third night started well, just like the previous two. Your brother was tired from studying all day and went to bed early, giving you the freedom to relax a little bit before following his example. You could read a book or try to revise for your exam tomorrow, maybe even call your bestfriend and finally let her know all about your new classmates and just how boring life in the village was. But in that moment all these suggestion sounded annoying, nothing was interesting enough to hold your interest for more than a minute. Thinking about what to do next, you suddenly became aware that your body was tense and tired, but your mind was restless. After all you hadn't had time for self - care between the paranoia episodes and the fear, maybe it was finally time to do something nice and therapeutic for yourself.

You snatched a quick look at Steve and he was sleeping soundly, snoring from time to time, his usually angry face now calm and childlike. Making sure there was no one in the room awake, you finally slipped a hand down your pajama bottom until you felt the soft fabric of your panties. You closed your eyes and run a finger up and down your clothed sex, following the line of your slit. Your pussy throbbed at the sudden contact, the lack of pleasure in the last few weeks making it sensitive to the touch. You pushed your underwear lower so it hanged around your legs, and shoved one finger into your warm hole, enjoy the way your walls clenched around the digit. You flicked your clit gently, feeling it swell from the arousal, rubbing slow circles and pressing on your sweet spot every once in a while.

Your free hand went to your breasts, bare under the comfy oversized shirt, and awoke the cherry nipples with subtle pinches causing them to harden. You couldn't help but moan quietly as you decreased the pace of which you teased your hole and added a second finger in your pussy, fucking yourself on it. You were so focused on chasing your pleasure you didn't even notice the hand on your thigh pulling your own away from your excited throbbing core and replacing it with a big hard cock. Only once its head reached your tight entrance and pressed on it did your mind register the atrocious size difference. Your words stilled in your throat, the sudden panic rising in your chest, making your vision blurry and your cheeks rosy pink. You finally opened your eyes, your heart racing at the image of your younger brother towering above you with his member so close to entering your heat.

"Steve, what are you doing?" You whispered as you tried to squirm away from the boy, but he was quicker in pinning your wrists above your head in a deadlock. When did the male become so strong? Just yesterday he would ask you to open up his water bottle and help him with his math homework and now he was doing this...

"My name is Henry, my love." The voice was different from your brother's, lower and huskier, gentler in a way. You narrowed your eyes and observed the teenager's face, gasping as you noticed that his eyes had changed from black to green, yet all his other features had stayed stayed the same. You wanted to ask so many questions - who is Henry, why were your sibling's eyes and voice different from before - but you were quickly shut by one stern gaze. "I used to live here 80 years ago." The stranger started off with an unexpectedly soft tone as his grip on your wrists loosened. "I'm a ghost. I possessed your brother." He confessed calmly while you watched his pink lips part slightly with each breath as if you were in a trance before you found the strength to break your silence.

"Why are doing this to me? Why did you take my brother's body?" You questioned him manically, feeling like a confused little lamb sent to the slaughter, trembling and stuttering in front of a knife. Henry simply chuckled at your adorable dumbfounded expression and lowered his torso until his face was mere inches away from yours and you could feel his ice - cold breath on your warm red cheek. "Because I love you, darling." The ghost replied with a confident smirk that looked so weird and unnatural on the younger boy's face you almost gagged. Before you had the chance to say anything, he continued. "I've been wanting you for a while now, little girl. And with this body I can finally have you all to myself." You opened your mouth in a protest but your screams were easily muffled by a harsh kiss and a wet tongue down your throat. Next thing you knew the man had pushed your brother's manhood into your wet sloppy cunt in one sharp thurst and in your despair you had yelled for help once again, the ghost taking your whimpers greedily and shushing them away. Struggling was pointless.

In the next hour you were reduced to a sweaty whimpering mess of pain and arousal, fear and pleasure. The ghost was fucking you in a fast brutal pace while his free hand was playing with your clit, bringing you so damn close but never enough to send you over the edge. You were crying and your whole body was aching, your tits red from the rough manhandlind, your lips bruised and swollen from the rough kisses and bites. There were purple hickeys adorning your neck, belly and thighs and you went quiet in embarrassment every time you wondered how you would be able to hide them the next day.

"Please, whoever you are, let me come, I'm begging you." You pleaded desperately as you arched your back to meet the next couple of deep thrusts. Your cheeks were wet with tears and you could even taste the bitter salty flavor in your mouth mixed with your own drool and saliva. Upon hearing your meek pleas the man mercifully started hitting your cervix with each shove until his moves became sharp and quick, targeting your g-spot. You were so close you could feel your abdomen clench and tighten from the tingling sensitations. "Please..." You uttered weakly again, making doe eyes at your brother.

"Say you love me. Tie your soul to mine forever and I'll give you exactly what you want, beloved." Henry basically growled in your ear as he groped your breasts, squizing lightly the soft flesh. Your mind was so hazy and clouded you weren't sure how to respond so you just repeated the words easiest to grasp. "Love... you... forever, ngggh..." You muttered under your breath before moaning wantonly when the forceful thrusts finally sent you over the edge and your pussy clamped down in a big, satisfying orgasm. Your bliss was short - lived because soon the ghost was pounding into you again and again, keeping you too tired to move, struggle or even speak properly besides whimpering every once in a while. The rest of the night was a blur but eventually you fell asleep from the exhausting and the pleasure.

You woke up sore, your eyes red and puffy, your muscles tense and unnatentive. You rushed to look at your brother, but the teenager was sleeping just as peacefully as he did eight hours ago. One side of you was more than glad to know everything that had happened was simply a bad, terrible dream, while the other one still felt extremely uncomfortable and uneasy. You couldn't bear staying in the room any longer so you got dressed and went into the hall. Everyone else was still asleep and you felt as restless as if you hadn't caught a blink at all. You finally gave in to your paranoia and climbed the stars leading to the third floor.

You knelt on the ground where you had found the beautiful paintings. Those green eyes from your dream seemed way too familiar for it to be a coincidence. When you finally got a hold of your favorite piece, the one with the sad young boy, you had to cover your mouth to suppress the shock. There wasn't an aristocrat with golden locks on the picture anymore.

Now the one trapped in the painting was none other than you own brother, Steve. Instead of misery and pain in mysterious blue eyes, there was only terror in his tormented black ones. You screamed for the last time before you dropped the picture on the ground and ran away from the attic, the tears streaming down your face, but unfortunately, there was no escape from the restless dead souls.

#yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere oc #male yandere #yandere smut #yandere male #yandere oc x reader #yandere male x reader #yandere oneshot #yancore #yandere concept #male yandere x you #tw incest #tw non con

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timextoxhajima · 4 years ago

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Love Me A Little Less: Chapter 4 - The Guest

LOVE ME A LITTLE LESS CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Member: (3rd person pov) arranged marriage au with Lee Juyeon

Genre: angsty wangsty

Taglist: @sunwoowuvbot @hyunjaethereal

“Get the guest out of my fucking office.”

Jang Won grimly knocks on the door, looking down to ensure Younghoon was carrying more than a fruit basket - a briefcase, worth half a million in cash, in case she needed to bribe a certain someone. Her eyes befall the apple sitting in the fruit basket, and she peels apart the wrapper to remove the bruised item, mindlessly hurling it into the trash can right by the lift.

The door clicks open, the sound of the door chain reminding her that she needs to handle this one with care and caution.

“What are you doing here?”

“Hi Mrs Nam, I’m Kim Jang Won and this is--”

“I know who you are. I’m asking what you’re here for.”

“Straight to the point I see,” Jang Won cocks a brow. “Look, we don’t want to make things difficult for you, but we’d just like to find out if you happened to know anything about the body swap regarding your husband.”

Mrs Nam’s breathing gets stuck in her throat. She swallows, eyes flitting back and forth between Jang Won and Younghoon.

“I know nothing. After he died, I visit him every month. I didn’t even know his body was moved until the news.”

Jang Won feels like she’s being strangled, all her nerves shutting down one by one like a tidal surge through her. But Younghoon tugs on the end of her blazer, out of sight, and shifts to talk to Mrs Nam instead.

“Do you mind if we come in and have a chat about it? We’d just like to know more about Mr Nam so we can figure out who did it. Don’t you at least want to know who shifted your husband’s body?”

A hint of curiosity and anger flickers in her eyes despite the slight hesitation. Mrs Nam subtly nods, head looking down but gaze still stuck to Younghoon as she gently closes the door.

“You don’t have to be in there if you don’t want to,” He murmurs, loud enough for her to hear while watching her in the corner of his eyes.

Jang Won sniffles, finger rubbing the tip of her nose as she composes herself. The jingle of the chain being removed sounds through the door.

“I’ll be in there because I want to, not because I can.”

The door clicks open, and Mrs Nam keeps it wide for Jang Won and Younghoon to enter. The apartment is rather neat and simple - a couple of single sofa seats around a circular table and a standing television. Pictures on the shelves framing the television.

Drawn to the pictures first, Jang Won wanders to the photographs.

A son, older than Younghoon, stands in most of the pictures. A degree in culinary sciences. A picture shot in Paris. Multiple pictures in Europe. A family portrait of him and his wife, Caucasian.

Younghoon sits opposite Mrs Nam, who looks more tired and drained than anything else, like the anger from before has completely dissipated.

He glances through the pictures, aware that something must’ve caught his sister’s attention because Jang Won wasn’t being very focused now. “We just wanted to know more about him. He might’ve worked at Artemis and I’ve yet to check with his ex-colleagues but I just wanted to know if he was happy there, or if he wasn’t, did he have any... enemies?”

Mrs Nam takes in a deep breath, rubbing an eye before her hands come together on her lap. “No, he was happy, as far as I knew. The only thing he was upset about was my son moving to France and settling there. But otherwise, he was easy-going. Kind. Helpful. I can’t think of anybody who would want to deliberately shift his... body... because he had offended them.”

“I hate to be the one to suggest this but could your father have done anything to anger your son... to the point where--”

“No,” She says with such resolution, it finally tears Jang Won’s attention off the photos. “Never. Their love might’ve been tough but they’ll never do anything to hurt each other.”

Younghoon glances at his sister before returning to Mrs Nam. “So... nobody, huh?”

“None that I can think of.”

Jang Won blinks her emotions away, fingers fiddling with her rings as she looks to Younghoon. His eyes sink to the floor, licking his lips in slight anxiety as he realises they’ve hit a dead end.

They leave the apartment with only the briefcase, and Mrs Nam closes the door before they can even walk off. The lift ride was exceptionally quiet, Younghoon merely watching Jang Won zip in and out of reality in the reflection of the lift mirrors.

He looks over, watching the layer of tears thicken over her eyes. Reaching out and rubbing her shoulder, he contains the emotions he’s feeling, just by watching his cold-hearted sister reveal the hint of humanity in her.

“I told you not to go in if you couldn’t.”

“And I could,” Jang Won clears her throat. “I don’t need you to baby me. It’s been a long time anyway. I’ll deal with it.”

The lift door dings open, and sees Jang Won walking out the doors, leaving Younghoon behind as she struts off.

Unfortunately, this soft side of Jang Won remains short-lived, for Younghoon finds himself holding her back from tearing the skin off their father’s face when they reach home.

“What the Hell is this?” Jang Won frowns, facial lines deepening in her skin when the staff is crowded in her office but none of them were moving. Her father, standing by her desk, looks up from the loaded query.

“Ah, child! I was just waiting to--”

“Are you... moving into my office?”

Her father opens his mouth, lips wide enough for her to see her teeth when Mr Ro finally joins the party.

“What is going on here?”

“Sir,” One of the housemaids lowers her head, almost like she was embarrassed. “Our guest-- Mr Kim... asked for us to help shift Miss Kim’s belongings out of her office. We were told not to tell you.”

Jang Won’s eyes almost double in size when she processes the words, the tips of her feet already turning to her father. Mr Ro looks up from his subordinate with distaste and disapproval, unable to believe the things he was trying to accomplish.

“Just which part of June did you not fucking understand? Huh?” Jang Won takes one step forward, but Younghoon grabs her wrist and then wraps his palms around her upper arms. “Playing possum killed your braincells too?”

“No...! No! I wanted things to be early, smooth. So that you wouldn’t be pressured to shift out in June--”

“Bold of you to assume you’ll get it in June!” She hisses, harshly ripping herself out from Younghoon’s grip. “From now on you are a guest and a guest only. This is my house and you will touch nothing that does not belong to you.”

“Aw, come on, daughter--”

“Don’t--” She seethes, finger almost at his nose now. “Call me that. From now on, we just share the same surname... But if you want mercy on the account that I am something you created, then I’d rather you wait until I die.”

The staff in the room lower their head as she storms by them toward the door, and as dramatic as she is, she pulls the doors open and smiles widely at her staff. “A kind, kind reminder that all these people standing before you, Mr Kim Jo-Pil... they work for me. They answer to Mr Ro, and Mr Ro answers to me. So, shall you require any assistance in possibly fucking something else up... do get it to me through Mr Ro.”

She smiles sweetly, tilting her head to the side. “Now, get the guest out of my fucking office.”

The wind brushes through Juyeon’s hair relentlessly, his dark blue, almost black, locks ruffled and made messy in the wind. The yacht makes small jumps against the water, the sun reflected off the surface of the water and into his eyes, the motion of the vehicle spraying some of it onto his hands that were over the railing.

“Are you sure you want to get yourself involved in this... Jang Won and The Board, I mean,” Sunwoo joins Juyeon by the cockpit, grabbing a bottle of Sprite and cracking the cap open. He takes a sip and smacks his lips, letting the wind do its job in his hair too. “I mean, I know it wasn’t your choice but... that stunt at the press conference last week? Damn, son.”

Juyeon smirks and scoffs, looking at Sunwoo through the lens of his sunglasses. “Maybe it was fueled by her, I don’t know... But I’d be lying if I said being at the same table with her doesn’t make me feel powerful. It feels like I could do anything I wanted as long as she was by my side and it’d... it’ll work, you know?”

“‘It’ll work’?” Sunwoo chuckles sarcastically. “You’re talking about the most powerful figure of The Board of your generation. Hell, it’s Hera’s Princess you’re dealing with here. I’m sure if you played by her rules a hundred percent, she’d buy you an island if you wanted.”

The continuous splash of the water just a few metres down the railing brings some kind of peace to Juyeon, despite the idea of being married to Kim Jang Won being tasteless.

“What about her brother? The Prince of Artemis, right? Kim Younghoon. He must’ve had something to say about Apple-Korea’s next director smooching his little sister on national TV,” Sunwoo snorts, taking another gulp of his drink.

Juyeon shakes his head, apart from providing Sunwoo a patient smile. “I haven’t met her brother, actually. But word has it he’s the calmer of the two, which I’m actually pretty grateful for.”

“Maybe you should get acquainted with him. Get on Kim Jang Won’s good side by making friends with Kim Younghoon,” Sunwoo places the bottle back into the ice box, noticing the yacht slowing down to a halt. Juyeon peels himself off the railings, finally standing and giving his own limbs a big stretch.

“Nah,” Juyeon shakes his head and pulls off his sunglasses, squinting away from the harsh sunlight. “The thing about Jang Won is that you shouldn’t indirectly find ways to get on her good side... you gotta do it in her face. That’s how she plays her games. Straightforward. Ruthless.”

“So like... borderline crazy and a control freak too, right?”

Juyeon snickers, pulling off his shirt to reveal the diving suit he’s got underneath. “Pretty sure if your dad came back from the dead and took over your life’s work, you would too.”

Sunwoo smirks, stripping the pieces of clothes off himself too. “Defending the missus already, I see.”

Rolling his eyes and pulling on an oxygen tank with a mask, Juyeon then glares at the younger. “Well, if she’s offering me all the cents I can count, I might as well work it to my best effort, right?”

He cocks a smug brow, giving his goggles one last adjustment before heading to the edge of the yacht. The hues of blue calm his nerves, already able to see the world of life beneath the surface. It has always been his paradise, and always will be.

“Today, we celebrate the love between two of The Board’s most powerful figures: Lee Juyeon, the next director of Apple-Korea, and The Board’s very own Hera’s Princess, Kim Jang Won. Just a last month, the return of Kim Jo-Pil shocked the country...”

Jang Won dips her finger into the glass of lemon-infused water, contorting the image of the television beyond the table and the space of the room. Still in her pajamas, she cannot find the motivation and strength to leave her bed. She can already hear the crowd bustling downstairs, getting ready for her hair, makeup, fittings--

Knock knock

“Oh, Mr Ro,” She covers her eyes, tired. The door clicks open and she groans to herself, refusing to open her eyes. “Please just kill me. I hate it. I hate all of this. Why did he have to climb out of his own grave?”

“I don’t know. His body was swapped, wasn’t it?”

The voice jolts Jang Won out of her laziness, and she sits up like she had been summoned from the dead too.

“When did you get here?”

Juyeon smiles, somewhat genuine, and leans against the door frame. He was already in a simple button up shirt, meant to be hidden under a gorgeous, white and silver blazer. His hair’s still wet though, his fringe covering his eyebrows and some portion of his eyes.

Jang Won can’t help but soften at the sight of him half a foot into his room - if only Lee Juyeon knew how much her friends back in high school swooned over him.

“Also, I don’t think killing you would be a great idea. Wouldn’t want to see you climb out of your own grave too. Family traits seem to run in the blood of the Kims.”

Jang Won rolls her eyes and crawls her way out of the bed that’s too big for her, feet finding her fluffy, cotton slippers by the bed and shuffling about the bedroom with her hair in a mess.

“Not very good at answering questions, are you?” She sniffles, not bothering to close the bathroom door behind her as she ties her hair gracefully, pulling a hair towel over her head to keep her fringe out of her face. She hears the door click, and Juyeon appears behind her in the reflection of the mirror.

The scent of mint from the toothpaste wafts through her nose.

“Well,” He shrugs and leans against the doorframe again, brushing his fringe out of his eyes. “I answered yours.”

Jang Won chokes on the toothpaste foam, gripping the edges of the sink as she retches into the marble. “Your butler... Mr Ro, called me over. Offered to cover my fitting and everything for today. He said it’s on the house, or rather, yours, I suppose.”

Jang Won finishes up on her brushing, spitting out the leftover foam. “Still didn’t answer my question, y’know.”

Juyeon removes himself off the doorframe, watching her struggle by throwing her hair behind her shoulder. Some locks keep sliding back down around her neck, and her hands are already lathering some facial wash. She tuts in frustration, unable to get her hair out of the way.

Then Juyeon gently gathers her hair behind her neck, his warm fingers barely brushing against her skin. “Morning. Just about two hours ago,” He waits for Jang Won to squint at him, before she provides enough trust to shut her eyes and rub the lotion into her cheeks.

“Mr Ro wanted to come wake you up, but something seemed to crop up with the tea and cake catering, so.”

“What? What’s wrong with the tea and cake catering? I paid good money for that bullshit,” She looks up from the sink, face smeared in some greenish-blue cream.

He grins, chuckling under his breath as she glares at him in the mirror. “Paying good money for ‘bullshit’, huh? How much did the ‘bullshit’ cost then?”

“Well,” She hesitates and frowns, creating lines in the lotion on her face. “Enough to piss me off if they don’t give me what I want.”

Leaning towards the sink, she runs her hands under the water and washes the lotion off her face.

“What company is the catering from? Need my help?”

She scoffs, waving his hand off her hair, grabbing a cotton towel and pressing it to her face. “To what? What are you gonna do? ‘Hey there, I’m the next director of Apple-Korea and I’d like my tarts and cupcakes this afternoon’.”

He leans his rear into the edge of the platform where the sink was built into, back facing the mirror while she carefully hangs the towel over the metal bar mounted into the beige marble wall. “What else would you want me to say, since that’s just exactly what I want?”

“I’on’t know, buy the company or something.”

He raises both brows in extreme shock, his lips pouting in disbelief that he should’ve been prepared for anyway. “What a solution.”

“Got a better idea?” She rolls her eyes, pulling a robe into the shower cubicle. “Also, are you going to stand there and watch me strip?”

Juyeon’s eyes flit off her instantly, hands pushing himself off the edge of the sink. “Could’ve just asked me to leave instead of being so crude.”

“Well now, I didn’t ask you to leave, I asked--”

“I know- I know what you asked-” Juyeon grimaces, blowing some air into the pockets between his teeth and lips. He sucks in a deep breath and exhales loudly through an ‘o’, giving Jang Won some kind of sadistic pleasure. “Do you ever get tired of that? Messing with people?”

Jang Won’s brown orbs rise to the ceiling, actually giving thought to the question. Her lower lip juts out as she shrugs. “Well... yeah. Yeah,” She finally nods. “But hey! I have different degrees of messing-with-people. There’s the I-kinda-wanna-mess-with-you-by-making-you-awkward kind and there’s the I-might-wanna-rebury-my-dad kind-”

“Alright, you have a nice bath.”

Snorting, Juyeon waves her nonsense off and walks out the bathroom, sliding the door shut.

#juyeon #lee juyeon #juyeon fanfic #the boyz juyeon #juyeon scenario #the boyz #the boyz scenario #TBZ #tbz juyeon #tbz fanfic #love me a little less

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yuusa · 4 years ago

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𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐆𝐨𝐝 𝟏𝟑

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟔𝟐𝟒𝟒

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞

𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝟏𝟑:

You pressed your lips together, staring at the board with a look of boredom and displeasure. There was an itchy feeling in your chest, it made you feel deeply uncomfortable. It’s almost as if today was going to be one of misery, you couldn’t tell if it’s just some sort of psychic reading or it’s because you have a test soon, it may even be both. You sighed and resisted the urge to lean your chair back to stretch, but the teacher was going over something important about the test.

You turned to the side, seeing Tohru fidget with one of her pencils to calm herself about the upcoming tests. She was wearing a new ribbon today. It was a soft shade of blue that had bits of lace on its edges, did she recently buy that? You wondered if she would get tutored by Yuki like he said they do, the upcoming test would be for math. It must be nice to have someone constantly tutor you and helping, but you quickly tried to dismiss this idea as a selfish need. Yuki was kind enough to help you with math the other day and you didn’t want to take advantage of his skills or generosity.

You didn’t need anyone or anything in this life if it meant making others happy.

You were better off alone and that is the truth, you thought. If you were God’s Messenger, perhaps your first message should be to announce the disbandment of the Zodiacs, maybe that would give equal freedom to everyone but yourself. You didn’t know exactly what the Zodiacs were going to do when they were free, but they could live their lives as regular animals with a stronger sense of friendship. You really didn’t know exactly what would happen, but it was simply a thought.

You yawned into your hand, feeling small droplets of tears forming at the corner of your eyes. You eyed Yuki silently, noticing the way he continued to tap the tip of his pencil against his paper as he rested his chin on the palm of his hand. He was extremely hardworking despite not wanting to clean his room. He is really cool, you thought. He smiles so often to the other girls in the class and can interact with them at a certain distance, whenever he was in a good mood he would shine even brighter than he already is, it was almost blinding, to say the least.

His eyes were a nice shade of grayish blue as well. They rarely ever looked strange underneath the light and they expressed so much of himself that you felt a bit envious. You nibbled on the bottom of your lip, you were starting to feel bad about yourself in class just because your eyes weren’t as good or pretty like Yuki’s.

You sighed and tried to write in your journal to keep your mind away from it. You noticed the small crease in one of the older pages, knowing that you rarely ever fold the paper or damage it, it was slightly suspicious. It seemed to be on the page when you came over to the Sohma household, did someone go through your journal? If so, when did this happen? Before you could explore this thought the sound of the bell rang echoed in the room, dismissing all of the students at once.

You almost forgot that you had to do your rounds today around the school for the committee, luckily you went through your previous pages to see that you had written yourself a reminder. As you were packing up your belongings, Yuki came to your side, already finished with his own things. You suppose that he wanted to do the rounds around the school with you this time instead of usually splitting up.

“You look better today, (L/n)-san, just a bit tired though.” He commented, your face turning away from him as you quickly packed your things into your bag.

“I suppose so. Where would you like to go first?” You asked, already knowing that the two of you needed to make your rounds at school.

“We could try the first couple of floors together and make our way up.” He responded, giving you a smile with his familiar grey eyes shining underneath the classroom lights.

You pressed your lips together in slight jealousy but nodded, “sure. We can go now.”

Yuki noticed the small pout on your lips during class but decided not to comment on it, finding the situation strange to explain if he were to talk about it. You were looking much calmer on the outside today, but he thought that you might have a whirlwind of thoughts by the way you continuously wrote in your journal. He wondered if what he said yesterday was affecting your mood.

“(L/n)-san, something is still bothering you despite our conversation yesterday.” He commented, “do you. . . Feel like I’m not really your friend?”

You halted your steps, the two of you standing in the hallway only a few steps away from the classroom you exited. You didn’t know exactly how to respond to his comment, there was not much to say and you didn’t want to bother him with something dull like your problems.

“It’s not that. . . I don’t want to raise concerns, I’m fine.” Before you could continue walking he tugged on your wrist, keeping you there.

Before he could say another word, you silently ‘booped’ his nose with your index finger. His cheeks turned a bright shade of red as you turned away from him.

“Relax Sohma-san. I’m fine.” You gave him a teasing smile before continuing to walk down the hallway.

Yuki sighed in response as he held his hand up towards his face, the unexpected gesture from you being unfamiliar as his cheeks slowly calmed down. He quickly walked to catch up to you, choosing to trust in your word that everything was alright.

While you still felt the ominous telling of the future, you thought to be on edge. You hoped that Yuki hadn’t noticed it but it seems as if he really wanted to be your actual friend. You tightened your grip around your journal as you both walked around the school in relative silence.

You didn’t know exactly why being real friends mattered to him, he could easily make other friends that were much better than you, much easier to manage and easier to talk to. You dolefully stared at each of the classrooms and halls, doing your duty while minding your own thoughts.

You were so gloomy.

You frowned in response to your own comments before turning to look at Yuki. His beautiful eyes and soft hair, those fluttering long eyelashes, it was hard to deny that you were envious to the bone. You constantly compared yourself to him, the thought making you feel worse by the second. You grit your teeth, the action going unnoticed by Yuki as you both walked up the flight of stairs.

Was it truly worth worrying about something you couldn’t change?

You spent so much time worrying about yourself instead of actually wanting to protect others. . . You were. . . Too selfish. No matter how beautiful the outside of Yuki’s eyes were, there was always this hint of sorrow hidden beneath the color. You connected with him in a way, a subtle feeling but it still existed like a small string looped around your fingers.

Perhaps he could be the Rat to the Eagle’s destiny.

Maybe he already is.

You should try to open up to him, you thought. Instead of constantly worrying and thinking about the problems you may never fix or find resolve in, you could help someone else and see them smile as brightly as you wanted to shine. To erase the sadness that burdens the rat. . . That’s the job of God’s Messenger.

There was this feeling of hope blooming within your chest.

You are the Eagle in the story.

The two of you finally approached the other floor, noticing Tohru being surrounded by a familiar group of boys from the Sohma family. While Kyo stood by her side while scolding at Momiji for his poor taste in clothing, Haru was standing there casually, his choice of wardrobe being nearly as bad as Momiji’s. You wondered if it was an inherited trait in the Sohma family to have poor taste in clothing or they were rebellious children who wanted to wear their own clothing. Everyone other than Yuki had a strange sense of fashion, but it wasn’t far fetched to say his choices are not weird as well.

Haru quickly notices Yuki coming up the steps, ignoring your presence as he went up to grip at Yuki’s sides. You wondered why he and the rest of the family constantly ignore you but you chose to believe that it was because you were an outsider.

“Sheesh, I can’t believe you’re wearing that Momiji. Haru, you too.” Yuki said, the white-haired male staring at him, clearly tuning him out for a moment.

“Yuki-kun, (Y/n)-kun, are you both done with committee work?” You raised your eyebrow, noticing the sudden change in the way Tohru addressed Yuki. She was actually calling him bt his given name for once. Perhaps they really did get much closer in the past couple of days.

The tinge of sadness poked at your heart, but you couldn’t understand why.

“No, not yet. We were doing our rounds at school and just happened to come across the two of you.” He responded, referring to the two rule-breaking students that couldn’t follow the dress code properly.

“Hey, Tohru! Guess what? I got told not to run around or horseplay at school because I might crash into a girl! So while I’m at school, I’m gonna play it cool!" Momiji added, gathering the rest of the groups' attention onto you, the outsider who heard this suspicious line.

“Cool?! Is that outfit cool?!” Kyo shouted back.

You stood there blank, not really knowing what to say. It seems as if they weren’t allowed to physically hug any girls at school, which does correlate to Yuki’s strange habit of pushing other girls away.

Are the Sohma family. . . Allergic to girls?

You deadpanned.

“Your dubiousness is justified, Sohma Kyo of Class 2-D! Your orange hair bothers me, but a boy wearing a girl’s uniform is unprecedented! Brazen! Shameless!” The brown-haired upperclassman with his other council members stood beside him, all three of them wore classes, which you thought was an interesting thing to point out. “The teachers may allow it, but I will not! For I am student council president Takei Makoto!“

Crap. . . You thought, it’s Takei Makoto.

You and Yuki facepalmed, trying not to get involved in this strange situation you were both tangled up in. More specifically, Yuki, as this was his entire family being criticized underneath the student council president.

“Another idiot appears,” Haru comments.

Takei raised his voice, stepping just a few feet away from Haru’s face, “just what do you think you’re doing, Sohma Hatsuharu? Your hair is white! And you’re practically jangling with jewelry. The audacity!”

“President Takei, that’s his natural hair.” Yuki clarified, holding up his hand to create distance between him and his cousin.

“Oh, Yuki-kun! (L/n)-san! How nice to see you both! But more important, natural?! Part of it is black!” Takei’s eyes seemed to have grown into hearts as he looked at both of you, finally acknowledging your presence.

“Even so. . .” Yuki continued.

You almost forgot that this student council was also highly infatuated with Yuki, similar to the way everyone else is also into him. You wanted to massage your head as you felt a migraine growing at the sound of his loud voice.

“I don’t believe it! It goes against common sense!” He retorted, getting even closer to Haru’s face to examine his features. “Now what’s the meaning of your appearance? Is that your natural self, eh, Sohma Momiji?! Have you no male pride? If you’re like this at your age, your life is on the fast track to failure!”

“But. . . But this uniform looks better on me!” Momiji’s eyes began to tear up as you pressed your lips together into a frown.

You quickly stepped between both of them, stopping Tohru in her path and pushing Takei back a few centimeters from Momiji.

“That should be enough from you, President Takei.”

Momiji’s eyes widened, seeing your intimidating presence being officially recognized to the entire group, your cold, harsh glare staring straight into Takei’s lens covered eyes. Takei seemed flustered at the sudden intrusion but he quickly adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose. Your eyes sharpened slightly as you focused your attention on the upperclassman in front of you, you certainly didn’t want to hear him degrade another student’s future.

He began to grit his teeth as he adjusted his glasses frames once more, trying too hard to look cool, “with all respect (L/n)-san, how could you stand by this rule-breaker?! Don’t you think he has no sense of pride?!”

“I don’t think it’s much of an issue. If he feels the most comfortable, then that is what matters,” You addressed, crossing your arms across your chest, “our job here at school is to make the students feel safe and welcome, I doubt giving them an earful would help them.”

“That is true! But we have specific rules that we all need to follow! I respect your opinion here (L/n)-san, but-”

“Shut up. Quit playing king of the hill, you human trash.” Haru interrupted.

“Wh-wh-wh-what” Takei stuttered as Haru grabbed him by the collar of his shirt.

“Oi, Haru!” Kyo shouted, trying to pull him away from Takei.

“Fine, let me ask you: are guys wearing neckties never muggers? Are guys without piercings never bullies? Do guys with black hair never murder people?!” Haru violently shook the poor man around, his brain easily turning to mush as if it was being stirred around like a smoothie, “who do you think you are, eh? God? Well, ain’t that something! Give us a few words! God! Go on!”

You could see Takei’s soul slipping away from his body as Haru continued to shake him.

Kyo gripped onto Haru’s shoulder, stopping him from turning Takei into some sort of drink by the excessive amount of shaking, “oi, cut it out! He’s got no training!”

“Butt out you stupid cat!”

“Don’t call me stupid you damn brat!”

“Oh? Don’t act like you’re so great! You ran from our last fight with your tail between your legs!” The two of them crashed against each other, their forehead grinding against one another as they stared at each other with a heated gaze.

“You’re the one who called that fight off!”

“What are you on his side?! You think he’s right!?”

You clicked your tongue before shoving the two of them apart, “what are you two? Children? Knock it off.” You glared at them, causing both of them to cower down and turn their heads away from you, the argument settling down as quickly as it started.

It was odd to see Haru not comment against you, but it seemed like even your gaze affected him. He quickly made his way to the other council members who were trying to bring Takei back to life, his body dangling lifelessly in their arms.

“Hey, ladies,” Haru greeted.

“Don’t drag them into it. . .” Kyo said, his hand on his forehead as his brain started to ache at Haru’s nonsense.

“What do you think? Take Momiji there—don’t you think he’s fine in that uniform? He’ll grow eventually. What’s the harm in waiting to dress like a man until then? He’ll be a real looker, trust me.” The other girls turned their heads to see Momiji happily enjoying the candy lollipop he had in his hands.

They quickly imagined a much older boy, his curly blond hair, and eyes becoming more mature as he gave the girls an imaginary wink. “He’s fine.” The girls responded, holding out their hands to worship the shorter boy.

“Don’t let him brainwash you!” Takei quickly stood up, still trying to defend his own point of view against someone as stubborn as Haru. “Wh-Wh-What’s the matter with you?! This is unheard of!”

“It’s always best to wear what looks good on you, huh? It’s like (L/n)-san said, whatever makes you comfortable!” Haru patted the top of Momiji’s head, the smaller boy feeling content as he continued to suck on the lollipop that he pulled out from his pocket.

You raised your eyebrows once again, you didn’t quite understand Haru’s behavior. There were moments where he would become calmer and then go back to being heated the next second. You were more surprised to hear that he actually addressed you by name this time.

“Unacceptable! That’s pure selfishness, and unfair to the other students—“

“You just won’t quit. Okay, then, what if Yuki wore a girl’s uniform?” Haru suggested.

Takei went through a moment of shocking realization, his mind immediately picturing Yuki in the girl’s uniform, calling out his name in his girlish voice.

“It’s fine.” He responded, tears streaming down his eyes as he pictured such a glorious image.

You visibly cringed, “what? That’s disgusting.”

The rest of the group stared at you in shock, not knowing that you felt such strong revulsion against the idea of Yuki wearing feminine clothing. Yuki felt the most surprised, hearing you voice your own objection regarding his outer appearance.

Could you really blame yourself for disliking the idea of forcing Yuki into girly clothing? It looked greatly uncomfortable and it made you sick seeing him constantly put up with the school for his image.

“Wh-Wh-What?! (L/n)-san, are you saying that Yuki-kun would look disgusting?!” Takei shouted, holding up his hand in a tightened fist, trying to preserve the image of Yuki in a girls' uniform in his head.

“It’s gross. Could you stop making him uncomfortable by putting him in girl’s clothing?” You stared at him, disinterested in hearing the rest of his opinions, “don’t you ever think about what he has to say? Sorry President Takei, but it’s disgusting to even see.”

Yuki clutched onto the sleeve of his uniform, feeling a sense of warmth eluding in his body as he heard you continue to bicker with Takei about him in a girls' uniform. At first, he thought you had called him disgusting but it seems much clearer that you acknowledge Yuki’s discomfort in being misgendered. Despite your harsh tone, it sounds as if you genuinely cared about his wellbeing more than he actually knew. His cheeks felt slightly hot as he watched you continue to tell Takei to quit harassing the students.

He had his doubts earlier when the two of you were walking together around the school. He often wondered if he was the one being the horrible friend by constantly putting you off, or even hiding things that put pressure on your relationship.

You tilted your head over your shoulder, giving Yuki a look of understanding and a small, subtle smile. You watched as his cheeks heated up before you turned away.

You made him felt as if there was someone who understood him.

Your cheeks felt hot to the touch. You didn’t know the exact reason why you blurted out such things, but it felt. . . Relieving? It felt nice being able to express your true thoughts and finally relieving Yuki of his image of “princess”. While Takei and Haru argued about the decision of clothes, it made you wonder about the way Yuki felt being forced into girlish clothing. You had already known from the start, based on the doleful look in his eyes that he never enjoyed any part of the school festival when dressed as a girl.

You could understand that feeling. You didn’t like the idea of being forced into clothing that didn’t represent who you were. You felt much better voicing your objections. It’s a nice feeling, it was as if heavyweights were lifted off of you when you were finally able to say something for the sake of someone else.

Perhaps there is more to this than you realized.

“O-Oh, dear. I seem to have gotten carried away!” Takei turned around and adjusted his glasses with his finger.

“You’re a formidable opponent, Sohma Hatsuharu and (L/n) (Y/n),” You restrained a yawn as Takei spun around and pointed towards Haru, “can you prove that’s your natural color, then?!”

Haru held up his arms as he relaxed his head against them, his laid-back personality starting to frustrate Takei, “sure can.”

“Oho, you have proof? Hard evidence that—“ Before he could even continue his sentence, Takei was forcefully dragged into the nearest boy’s restroom, “um. . . excuse me. . .?” He stumbled on his feet, his sense of balance warped as Haru tugged on his clothing.

The two of them disappeared into the bathroom. There was a short period of silence before the echoed screams of Takei bounced off of the walls and into your ears. Tohru squeaked in surprise while everyone seemed unaffected by the turn of events. In a few minutes, Takei stepped out, taking off his glasses as his face was pale with shock.

“Incontrovertible proof. I see I still have much to learn about the world,” He commented.

Haru shortly followed after, his face showing a smug and cocky smile.

Did he show him? Kyo thought.

He showed him, Yuki responded, almost as if they both had telepathic minds to read each other’s thoughts.

Pervert. You stared at the two of them with a confused look.

“You win this time! But I’ll get you all next time!” The student council members quickly fled from the scene while Haru stayed smirking, the feeling of pride and victory flowing through his veins.

“Did you actually show yo—“ Kyo wrapped his hand around your mouth, quickly silencing you. Your voice became muffled underneath his hand.

“D-Don’t say it! Moron!” You resisted the urge to punch him but he removed his hand before you could even raise yours.

“Um. . . How did you prove that was your natural hair color?” Tohru asked, staring at Haru with a puzzled look in her eyes.

Yuki and Kyo went pale as Tohru asked such a strange question in her aloof personality. You wondered how dense Tohru was to not know how to prove one’s natural hair color, it was already suspicious enough considering that Haru dragged Takei into the bathroom.

“Wanna do it and find out? I’m in if you are.” Haru pulled Tohru close to him, his hand gently caressing her cheek, “it’s fine, we don’t have to be hugging each other to—“

Before he could even get another word into the explanation, Yuki and Kyo punched him to the ground, the two of them huffing either in anger or tiredness.

“Dark is the one guy I can’t handle. . .” Kyo scoffed.

“Never mind. Don’t worry about it, Honda-san.” Yuki responded.

You wondered why they referred to Haru as “dark”, maybe it was simply because of how easily his personality changed to someone casual to serious. He was quite odd, to say the least.

“I’m kinda tired now,” Haru responded, his hand gripping onto the sore spot of his head. He seemed to have calmed down and his voice sounded emotionless.

“Oh, yeah? You’re tired, huh?” Kyo groaned.

The sound of the school bell ringing caught all of your attention, you now realized that you and Yuki actually didn’t finish your rounds around the school as you spent most of your time here.

“Ah! That's the bell!” Momiji called out.

“Would you be willing to meet my friends before you go home today?” Tohru asked, wanting to invite Momiji and Haru into a game of badminton after school with Uotani and Hanajima.

“Your friends? Sure, of course!” He responded happily, lifting his arms as he expressed his joy in full. “That reminds me—Hey, Yuki, and Kyo!”

“Could you stay behind? I need to tell you something.” He added. The two boys turned their attention towards Momiji.

“Then, (Y/n)-kun and I will go on ahead then,” Tohru responded.

“Sorry, Tohru.” Momiji apologized, only to be met with her shaking her head as she told him that it would be fine.

You nodded before leaving with Tohru, the two of you silently walking down the stairs, leaving the Sohma family to deal with whatever conflict that may have arisen.

“Ah, sorry for disturbing your duties (Y/n)-kun!” Tohru apologized, bringing her hands to her chest as she clasped them.

You shook your head, “it’s okay. I could always do them later today.”

You both finally approached the bottom floor as you continued walking down the path to your classroom. You noticed that the cherry blossom trees were in full bloom today, you silently admired them while Tohru continued to think about the Sohma family.

“You both look like you’re having fun.” A familiar voice called out, you and Tohru slowly turned to face the unknown person.

His dark hair flowed with the wind, the cherry blossom tree’s petals falling from the sky like snow.

“A. . . Akito-san. . .?” You muttered, your eyes widening at the sight of him at the school, his wardrobe still as plain as you last saw him on Valentine's Day.

Tohru flinched at your reaction, unsure about what to say or feel.

“It’s nice to see you again, (L/n)-san. . .” Akito said, slowly approaching you and Tohru. “It feels like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

You’ve only seen him last time on Valentine's Day, which wasn’t even that long ago. Despite the dullness and emotionless look in his eyes, he stared down at Tohru with a focused gaze. The shorter girl panicked on the inside but tried to remain calm.

“Are you. . . Akito-san?” Tohru asked.

“That’s right. . . Honda Tohru.” He responded, his voice much dryer compared to when he was talking to you.

Tohru felt a jolt in her body as she quickly bowed down in front of him, “I’m very pleased to meet you!”

Tohru looked intimidated by him. Your eyes turned towards Akito who was still looming above her figure, watching and studying each of the muscles that she moved. You didn’t understand whether or not Tohru had connections with Akito, her reaction to him seems as if she knows something.

“Well, you strike me as feminine and gentle.” Akito commented, referring to Tohru, “thank goodness you seem to be a good person. And most importantly, you’re quite cute.” He smiled.

Tohru straightened her back, flailing her arms around in embarrassment, “what? Oh, no, you flatter—“

Akito laughed, the familiar tune of his voice giving you slight shivers down your spine, there was something unsettling about his tone towards Tohru, “don’t get flustered. You really are cute. Sorry, it took me so long to introduce myself. I’m just rather shy of strangers.”

Thats odd. . . He was the one to talk to you first, even though you were a complete stranger to him. You pressed your lips into a thin line, was he lying?

“Akito-san. . . What are you doing here?” You asked, trying to piece together the situation in front of you. Akito looked back at you and smiled, reaching out to your cheek to stroke it slowly.

“I only wanted to see the two of you of course. I heard many great things about Honda-san.” Something about his tone didn’t seem right to you. It made you feel a bit strange on the inside. “I know I haven’t kept in touch with you in a while. . . I’ve been quite busy.”

Your eyes trembled underneath his gaze, the touch of his cold hand contrasting the warmth of your skin as you both stared at each other. You still didn’t understand why Akito would be here, none of what he is saying made any sense to you whatsoever.

Unbeknownst to the three of you, Yuki’s eyes widened at the sight of Akito holding onto you, his hand pressed against the window before he sprinted down the stairs.

“How are you doing (L/n)-san? We should communicate more often you know.” Akito asked.

“I’m. . . I’m doing fine.” You responded, pulling away from his grasps, “there isn’t much going on.”

Akito hummed in response, feeling unsatisfied by your words. He quickly stepped back a few feet, “well, let me formally introduce myself to both of you.”

“I’m Akito, the current Sohma family head. Pleased to meet you.” He introduced himself with a small bow.

Your heart dropped as you felt yourself almost losing your grip on your journal.

He‘s. . . Part of the Sohma family? Your blood felt as if it had been frozen over, the shock coursing through your veins as you looked at him in disbelief. He was related to Yuki all this time? When you first saw his appearance, it wasn’t just a coincidence then. . .

“I’d like for us to get along well. . . And please take care of Yuki and the others.” From the corner of Akito’s eyes, he could see the way you looked back at him in confusion, your brain trying to rack up any sort of information between your encounter to find a reasonable explanation for everything.

Such beautiful eyes. . . He thought, feeling the sense of joy and pleasure as he ravished the look in your eyes. There was something so satisfying seeing you make a similar face to Yuki, it might even be a better reaction than him.

“Akito!” The sound of Yuki’s voice interrupted the tense atmosphere.

“Ah, Yuki!” Akito called out, you spun around to see Yuki’s distraught expression, his eyes beginning to tremble at the sight of him. Akito opened his arms out, “I’ve missed you, Yuki! You know, it feels like it’s been forever since I last saw you. You’re looking grown-up and taller—“

“What did you do?” Yuki cut him off, “what did you say to them?!

“Nothing. I was just saying hello to an old friend and Tohru-san.” Akito turned around to face Tohru, “right, Tohru-san? Wasn’t I just saying hello?”

The tension in the air continued to grow as your nails dug into the material of the journal cover.

An old friend? Yuki thought, turning his attention onto your figure that Akito was associated with. When did the two of you meet. . . ?

“Um, yes!” Tohru responded, feeling unsure about what to say in the situation. She could feel the tension in the air, as Akito confronted Yuki while in your presence.

“More importantly, Yuki. . .” Akito went back to Yuki, stepping in front of him as Yuki tightened his fist, “. . . there’s something I really want to ask you.”

Akito reached out to caress his cheek, similar to the way he treated you as Yuki’s hair strands flowed over his knuckles like a stream of water. The look of fear and terror reflected in Yuki’s grayish orbs, the irises trembling as much as his body was.

“Why did you skip New Year’s? Why would you do that? And when I’ve become so generous lately, too. When you do things like that, it seriously hurts my feelings.” Akito stared at Yuki with a menacing glare.

New Year’s. . .? The time of the Zodiac banquet. . .? You didn’t understand why your brain made that connection, but there was something so frightening seeing Yuki stand there petrified.

You didn’t understand.

You clenched the area around your heart, the feeling becoming painful like thousands of spikes piercing through your organ.

“Do I have to reeducate you, I wonder?” The shine in Yuki’s eyes completely disappeared, leaving only a dark and dull look in them, “in your special room? Will I be forced to spend long days teaching you proper disposition again?”

Akito traced his finger against Yuki’s lips as Yuki tilted his eyes away from him, trying to avoid his deathly gaze. His body was violently trembling as Akito continued to press him further.

Special. . . Room?

“I hate you. . . I hate you!” She smacked you across the face before throwing the porcelain bowl against the floor, the material shattering in front of the altar of God. The bowl nearly missed your eyes, causing your mother to violently scream and tug at your hair.

“This is all your fault! I hope you rot in hell! Here, in this very room!” She pulled on your (h/c) strands with enough force to pull out the longer, looser strands. “You’ll disappear in this room! Just like God said you would!”

You tightened your fist and your body reacted unconsciously, ripping Akito’s hand away from Yuki as you stepped in between them. Your body snapped in reaction to the two words Akito mentioned. His eyes widened at your sudden objection, feeling betrayal and annoyance running through his body.

“That’s enough, Akito-san,” You grit your teeth, “stop it already.”

“Is something wrong (L/n)-san? I am merely talking to Yuki.” He asked, his smile still plastered on his face.

“He doesn’t want to talk right now, so. . . Drop it already.” Akito narrowed his eyes at you, this was not going as he expected, however, he was thoroughly enjoying the look in your eyes at this moment. The look of despair in your eyes giving him the same feeling of euphoria.

“Sorry, I’m going to take Sohma-san to the nurse. He said he was feeling sick earlier,” you lied before looking at Tohru, “go back to the classroom Tohru-kun.”

Your eyes were no longer the shade of (e/c) Tohru recognized. It was much colder, emotionless, and filled to the brim with hidden pain. They no longer held any semblance of humanity left in them, it was almost as dull as Yuki’s. She wondered how much suffering you endured to match the same intensity as Yuki.

You gave Akito one last glance before grabbing onto Yuki’s wrist and pulling him away from the scene.

“Yuki, I hope you have a fun school life here.” Akito called out, “it’d make me happy if you came to visit sometime soon.”

You only ignored his words and forcefully pull Yuki away. He let you freely drag his body towards the nearby secluded cherry blossom tree, his mind still not being able to rid itself of the painful memories that resurfaced as he remained unfocused of his surroundings. His eyes began to water as he tried to blink them away, trying desperately not to cry out in public. You gently pushed his body to lean against the tree, your form kneeling beside him as you slowly brushed back the strands of hair blocking his face.

You wondered what brought this feeling in your heart. There was something about the look in his eyes, your mind and heart screaming to reach out to him. They were pounding desperately against your door to rescue him from something you both wanted escape from. They wanted something you were destined to do.

Your hands were warm, Yuki thought. This was the first time you’ve shown an intimate gesture in front of him. Your body felt nicer against his skin than it was with Akito’s cold fingers, it was bringing him slowly back into reality as his eyes continued to fight against the growing tears. You were truly a warm person inside.

It was showing at this very moment almost as if the key had unlocked your doors.

You noticed the small droplets of tears on the corner of his eyes, his fists still tightly clenched together. He looked like a fragile animal, one which tugged at your own emotional strings. You reached out to wipe at them before standing up and pulling your sweater off of your body.

You placed the top of your sweater on his head, shielding him away from the rest of the world from his pitiful crying. You gripped the edge of your skirt, the fabric wrinkling underneath your fingers.

“I don’t know what your relationship is with them. . . I’m not the best at comforting other people either. . . But it’s okay,” You didn’t know if these were the right words to say, but you watched as he tightened his hold on your sweater, “It’ll be okay in the end.”

You gently patted the top of his head, the fabric of your sweater creating a barrier between your skin and the softness of his hair. He stayed silent, unresponsive to your words. Your heart yearned for freedom in the eyes of others.

“That room. . . You won’t go back there anymore.” You spoke gently, almost like a whisper, his body beginning to release the pent up tears that flowed down his cheek but were masked by your clothing. “I promise you that. . .”

“I won’t let you go back there anymore.”

Those were simple words that expressed the feeling in your heart.

You figured out what you wanted and needed to do in your life. It was to play the role of the Eagle you desperately wanted to be, one to fulfill and shoulder the burden of those you swore to protect, even if it meant promising your loyalty to God.

There was no more fretting about what you needed.

#fruits basket #fruits basket x reader #x reader #yuki sohma #yuki sohma x reader #yuki soma #yuki soma x reader

46 notes · View notes

lemonietrinket · 4 years ago

Text

nct/wayv masterlist

number of works: 48+

begun: 20/08/2019 last updated: 11/12/2020

key

request ✤ musical ♫ halloween/spooky ☾ christmas ❅ oddball ♧ idol birthday present ✧

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

drabbles

Not the Reason ||| Taeil x Reader ✧ ||| fluff, mild angst ~ taeil finally admits something small, and maybe its a step towards the biggest confession of them all

Arms ||| Johnny x Reader just fluff ~ sleepy cuddling with johnny

Pro Gamer ||| Taeyong x Reader ✧ ||| fluff lol ~ playing animal crossing with your boyfriend, and hes not having a lot of luck

00:13 ||| Taeyong x Reader timestamp ||| angst mostly, fluff ~ late at night you hit a depressive spiral after feeling very ignored by your friends

Yuta x Insecure!Reader angst, reassurance fluff ~ because of your insecurities with your body, you make sure youre never as physically close to your boyfriend as much as you want to be. yuta wants to fix that ~ warnings: body insecurities (kept vague, but focusing around chest and stomach), general feelings of upset, tears, swearing (1x f**k)

Epilogue ||| Kun & Reader smutty undertones, lil fluff ~ prequel to ‘Candy Baby’, involves a soft, embarrassed and ultimately curious kun, and an accidentally nosey reader

Peace ||| Kun x Reader big fluff ~ waking up with kun is great—but you know what is also good? falling right back asleep again

Victory ||| Ten x Reader fluff, humour ~ sad ten wants cuddles and mean reader wont give him any

Merigold ||| Jaehyun x Reader angst with tiny fluff ~ when buying flowers for your date, you end up falling in love—with the wrong guy

Safe Haven ||| Mark x Reader big fluff ~ while waiting for your boyfriend to come home, you sit curled up on the sofa, stuck on the edge of sleep

Catgroove - Parov Stelar ||| Hendery x Reader ♫ ||| humour ~ pranking hendery with a classic

Pair ||| Jaemin x Reader ✤ ||| solid fluff ~ you wait for your boyfriend to come home so you can spring a surprise

reactions

How NCT would comfort you after a bad day fluff, bit of angst, some curse words ~ kind of just what it says on the tin

How NCT 127 would react to accidentally hurting you fluff, some tiny spicier elements, but they’re so mild, attempts at humour, tiny bits of angst in some? ~ scenarios in this are only very small things, and are mostly he members being clumsy/forgetting to be a bit careful in normal everyday situations—no one gets really hurt!

How NCT Dream would react to you getting the hiccups pure fluff, humour

Small Displays of Affection in Domestic Life with Dream pure fluff and bad humour

oneshots/imagines

Stay ||| Taeil x Reader fluff ~ boredom strikes you in your tired state, leading you to think back on the night before

Dreams Come True ||| Johnny x MakeupArtist!Reader ✤ ||| fluff, small angst if you squint, some more inferred heated elements ~ johnny is kind to all the members of staff, and so you believe that he thinks no differently of you

Kestrel ||| Johnny x Reader ♧ ||| wistful angst, fluff ~ youre on the cusp on a huge change in your life, but a part of you cant let go, and youre not sure how youre supposed to

Lie to Me ||| Johnny x Reader subverted angst, fluff, smutty undertones ~ you and johnny dont agree on everything. and this time neither of you are great at backing down

Save A Nation ||| Johnny x Reader ❅ ||| humour, lil fluff ~ unistudent!johnny knows how hot he is. oh he knows. he also knows that a certain someone has had a crush on him for a very long time. and he also knows youre not confident enough to address it. but this is the catch for you, you see: because he is

Candy Baby ||| Yuta x Reader ❅ ||| lil fluff, humour, lil smutty undertones ~ you and your boyfriend are shopping at a special lingerie store. though not for the reasons that anyone may first expect…

Entranced ||| Yuta x Reader fluff, lil smutty undertones ~ waking up in yutas arms in the morning, bc who doesnt want that

Mishap ||| Yuta x Reader humour, lil fluff? ~ yuta is not known for his woodwork skills. he is also not particularly known for any common sense that would also come with it. however, good things can be made of the worst scenarios, and yuta is not completely inept—no matter what winwin tries to assert.

Cosiest Place on Earth ||| Kun x Reader big fluff, some humour ~ where Kun is relaxing in peace, and a certain someone decides its a prime time to ‘annoy’ him

Home ||| Kun x Reader ❅ ||| big fluff ~ just cuddling with your long-time boyfriend after a busy day with the rest of wayv

Snow Drift ||| Kun x Reader ❅ ||| fluff, humour ~ going sledding with your boyfriend, what can possibly go wrong?

A Good Reason to Break the Law ||| Doyoung x Reader humour, fluff ~ doyoung does love you. and you wouldnt really call yourself a rule-breaker. yet you always find a way to worry him—which isnt particularly difficult, if you were honest

Baby Baby ||| Doyoung x Reader ♧ ||| fluff ~ a long day out leaves both you and bf!doyoung exhausted, and though its nowhere near over yet, you at least you have each other

Dinosaur ||| Doyoung x Reader fluff, humour, heated elements ~ doyoung was worried to meet your family, but he needn’t have been

Definitions ||| Doyoung x Reader ❅ ||| fluff ~ you’re studying with doyoung after returning home for christmas

Fail-Safe ||| Ten x Reader ❅ ||| big fluff ~ cuddling late at night with your slightly clumsy boyfriend

Aster ||| Jaehyun x Reader ✤ ||| fluff, mildly heated elements ~ just some calm, soft times in bed with a very shirtless jaehyun

Ladder ||| Lucas x Reader ❅ ||| humour, fluff ~ you love your bf lucas, you really do. but sometimes, his chaotic tendencies led him into all kinds of trouble. and you never, ever laugh at him. totally. not even when he puts himself in a compromising position. not even once.

Spirit ||| Xiaojun x Reader ✤ ||| fluff, little bit of sad ~ bed cuddles with your boyfriend after a hard day

Look Down ||| Mark x Reader angst, bits of fluff ~ mark invites you to a pretty bridge at sunset to finally confess to you

Ready ||| Mark x Reader ✧ ||| fluff ~ first time hand-holding with a shy, slightly awkward bean

Beautiful Like the Moon ||| Jeno x Reader ✧ ||| fluff ~ moongazing with your boyfriend to celebrate the end of his birthday

Strength ||| Jeno x Reader fluff ~ even with a cold you cant be stopped, and jeno loves you all the more for it

Sun vs Sun ||| Haechan x Reader humour, fluff ~ playful times out camping with hyuck and the others. but mainly hyuck.

Lung Crusher ||| Johnny x Reader x Haechan ✤ ||| fluff, humour ~ after a long day, you and johnny are peacefully dozing on the sofa. you expected the two of you would be left alone, but youd be wrong

Loved ||| WayV x Reader ✤ ||| big sad, big fluff, big humour ~ everyone needs to be taken care of sometimes, no matter how strong they are. and so when you come home from an awful day in the outside world, you are blessed to have several people come and pick you up again, setting you back on your feet ~ long fic ~ - NOTE: this is the old version of a new multiparter fic seen below, named Love. This version, Loved, will not be edited or updated but will be kept up for the slightly different series of events that it follows in comparison to its new version.

multi-parters

The Code ||| Doyoung x Barista!Reader slight angst, some fluff, mostly a mystery ~ doyoung has a thing for a barista at the best cafe in town, and after finding out the boss there is super strict, he counts his chances out. however, a bizarre set of events lead to an opening for someone clever enough to take it, and luckily his heart has chosen well. Part One ~ where doyoung remembers a special moment and confesses much to his own regret Part Two - coming soon ~ where doyoung begins to find strange numbers on his averley recyclable cups

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imagine-that-one-thing · 4 years ago

Text

Her Majesty || 16

Letters patent.

Anastasia’s POV.

The papers fall from my hands, hitting the floor before I step over them, “Excuse me,” I mutter, hurrying past Harry and finding my way to the bathroom. My hands grapple with clutching the edge of the sink as I bow my head in defeat.

This can’t be happening.

One hand stays grasped to the edge, and the other holds my hair back, my stomach twisting at the realisation of everything.

The door creaks open, and Harry steps into the bathroom, thoughtfully pushing my hand away and holding my hair back for me.

“This is why you need a break.” Harry sighs, stroking my back while my stomach violently turns and the remainder of my afternoon tea makes an awful appearance.

I take a breath and press a hand to my stomach, straightening my back slightly, “Now isn’t the time for sly remarks,” I murmur, closing my eyes for a moment, another wave hitting me harshly.

I lift my head again, taking another breath and praying that it’s the last time I throw up.

Harry lets go of my hair as I lean back on him, my energy depleting extremely quickly.

We are stuck. Harry and I are bound to the monarchy with no way out. “He tied me to the monarch?” The words leave my mouth, and Harry nods his head as I gaze at him through the mirror, “We are stuck in it… Why’d he do this?” I softly question, tears falling down my blushed cheeks, “I can’t end it.”

Harry wraps his arm around me carefully, “Sweetheart, I think the point was so that the monarch can’t end at all. Your Dad issued letters patent.”

“The only person who can end this shitshow is my hypothetical child?”

“That’s how it seems.” Harry nods.

“The only way anyone can cause this monarch to end is if I have a baby? Not even Pippa can end it? Parliament can’t even end this fucking shit?”

Harry again shakes his head, “The monarch can only end with your kid.”

“Our,” I correct him, “Our hypothetical kid.”

“What do we do, Anna?”

I take a moment before I take a breath. I step away from his embrace, and I turn to face him, leaning against the counter, and I smile up at him softly, “We rule the monarch with an iron fist, Harry.”

“Excuse me?” Harry’s eyes grow big.

“We do what was intended, to rule the monarch and keep it thriving. But you’re going to call for a dissolution of Parliament. Every seat in the House of Commons will become vacant.”

“Why? Pippa said parliament seats couldn’t change.”

“She is wrong. Call for the dissolution, Harry. Then we can work on getting her disbanded as Primeinsiter.”

“We can’t get rid of her. We can’t vote; royals stay neutral in that branch.”

“Harry, I am aware of how this works. Please, listen to me, clear the seats, order new parliament officials. It’s a strategic dissolution.”

“So, now you want to end Parliament since we can’t end the monarch?”

I nod my head, “You and I both know some of the people who want me dead are currently members of parliament, call for re-election, so they lose their seats. If they are not voted in, you can figure out how to keep them at bay and away from us,” I respond.

“Isn’t there a rule about Parliament only being dissolved at a certain time?” Harry asks.

I shrug my shoulders, “Parliament can be dissolved at the beginning of the 25th working day before a general election… The Fixed-term Parliaments Act, which you are also going to sign and change today. Before the Fixed-term Parliaments Act, the government had the power to call elections at a time of its choosing, and I want that back.”

“I hate being the middle man,” Harry groans, “This is fucking ridiculous.”

“Then let me have the crown back.”

“Talk to your mother about it, Anna. I don’t have a say over having the fucking crown. I have tried to hand it back… Pippa and your mother have not allowed me.”

“The best thing about you being King is that you can sign whatever the fuck you want and not listen to them. You can hand me the crown; you just have to sign it on over or find a loophole as my father did.”

“I much prefer my daily job as security than as King.”

“Listen to me and do this, Harry. When Parliament is dissolved, all unfinished parliamentary business falls, including bills that have not received Royal Assent. Bills cannot be carried over. Whatever plans any of them have will fail. If I can’t abolish this circus, I will join them and end it for them and take back the monarch... You are either with me or against me, Harry.”

“I am with you, Anastasia,” Harry responds instantly, “I will start the process of everything, not that I know what the fuck I am doing,” Harry trails off, “Any other requests while I am here? Perhaps request my blood?”

“Oh, ha, ha, you’re funny,” I roll my eyes, “That’s all for now, I will keep thinking of Royal assents I want you to part take in… Until then, I have to make my first appearance as Queen, even though that is far from the truth. Are you attending?”

“I am,” Harry nods, “Matthew has Oliver and myself on your service.”

“Great… and if you don’t wish to participate in my plan to take back control of the monarch, we can always have a baby and abolish the monarchy.”

“Uhm…” Harry trails off, “No. All due respect, but if we have a kid, I’d rather we talk about it properly, and right now, I don’t want a baby in this mix, no, no— and no.” Harry shakes his head sternly.

“I’m sure parliament would love it.”

“I’m sure that would piss them off and make things worse, no.”

“Great, so you’ll be on my side?”

“Yes. Anna. I have always been on your side. Now I’m going to take a nap until your event. Please, for the love of God, don’t start shit, don’t make any plans, don’t do anything irrational like you did the night with Henry. I don’t need more blood on my hands, literally and metaphorically.”

“I will be the perfect princess everyone knows me to be.”

“You say that with an evil look to your eyes… I really don’t need to do a protocol.”

I shrug my shoulders and step closer to him, “You have my word, I won’t start shit,” I smile, drawing small circles on my stomach, feeling a bit more relaxed, oddly.

“I am confused as to what made you switch from hating the monarch to wanting to control it again?”

I take a breath and shrug my shoulders, “Sometimes you just have to play the cards you are dealt and hope that the hand you have is the winning hand.”

“But you suddenly flipped your switch, Anna… Do I need to be concerned? What happened to the Princess that wanted nothing more than to leave and have a normal life?”

“She realised that it would never happen. This is what I was born for, Harry. I have tried to get away so many times, and I can’t. I have no choice but to deal with it. You can still leave. You don’t have to be stuck in this, Harry. You have an out.”

Harry shakes his head and takes my left hand with his, “Anna,” Harry begins with a soft breath, his thumb rubbing over where my rings would rest if I were able to wear them. He reaches his other hand up to my neck where he follows the thin chain and pulls out my rings from under my shirt, “I gave you this ring and proposed for a reason, I put that wedding band on, for a reason, I wear my wedding band, for a reason. I love you, and I want to be with you. I don’t want an out. I don’t want to leave. I can deal with the monarch. It does not scare me.” Harry informs me sweetly and calmly, “I may not be able to tell the world I love you or act upon things right now, but I don’t want to not live life without being your partner, even if you do despise me for taking your damn crown,” Harry chuckles, breaking the slight tension in the space between us.

I do not despise him for taking the crown. I will admit that him having ownership of it is a better option. I am still in no headspace to hold such power, and I am still struggling with daily activities. Royal life isn’t easy, but it is much more challenging when you lose your father but gain a monarch to run that you are not ready for. My father may have prepared me in a royal status sort of way to run the place, but I was not mentally or emotionally prepared. I don’t think anyone can be emotionally prepared for the loss of a loved one.

“Are you sure?”

Harry nods his head, “I am more than sure, sweetheart. Are you okay? I still don’t understand how you changed your mind about the monarch.”

I shrug my shoulders, “I don’t know if I am truly okay. Today’s news physically made me sick,” I admit, “But this is my family legacy. I would be destroying what generations have built. My father did build a great monarch… It may have some evil people involved in it, but the people are thriving, and the country is doing well. I can sit here and wish to abolish and destroy it all because of my own bitterness, or I can figure out how to lead without being held back.”

Harry smiles softly and nods his head, “It is good to see you coming to your power as Queen, darling.

“I have a great husband and King to back me up.”

“No, baby. You don’t have a King. You have a husband. I am merely the husband to have your back.”

I shake my head, “No, Harry. If I am reigning Queen, you will be known as King. I will be changing that. You will have that title. I can be Queen and reign on my own, don’t get me wrong, but I want a King by my side.”

“We can cross that bridge when we get there… But I want to know when the staff will know about us, and I am tired of hiding us. Surely the staff have figured it out.”

I shake my head, “The staff do not know, but you are still the talk of the ladies,” I laugh, “A lot of the ladies keep their eyes on you. Rumour has it that there is a pool on how long it takes you to get a girlfriend.”

“What?”

“The staff, they make assumptions about you since you’re so private. Some think you have a secret girlfriend, and others think that you’re just a workaholic.”

Harry rolls his eyes, “Jokes on them, I have a secret wife, and I am a workaholic. Do they just sit and talk about me to you?”

I nod my head, “Yeah, I learn new things about you all the time.” I chuckle, unsure how he doesn’t know that many of the female staff swoons over him.

“And you don’t mind?”

“No, I find it amusing,” I respond, “I don’t know how they haven’t figured out we are together. You are always in my room.”

“I am security,” Harry shrugs, “I think a few of them know. They just keep quiet. I know Grace has an idea. She keeps smirking at my ring.”

“Oh well, I don’t care, I am unsure how the people will react, but I guess we will find out. I need to get ready for the event… I am giving a speech.”

“Mhm,” Harry hums, “So Pippa told me. How do you feel about that?”

“I think I am okay, considering I just threw up a handful of times,” I sarcastically respond. “I uh… I haven’t seen the speech. I am not allowed to write my own. They don’t trust me.” I roll my eyes, “I much prefer if I could write things myself. I don’t like being dictated to.”

Harry steps to the side and grabs one of the face towels that are folded neatly. He runs it under the cold water before touching it to my cheeks lightly, “I don’t think you’re okay at all. You don’t have to do this speech.” Harry taps the damp towel to my forehead, my eyes closing as it soothes me. “You look like you need to sit down for a few minutes,” Harry softly enlightens me, and I nod my head in agreement.

My body feels weak and exhausted.

Harry guides me back to the bedroom, being overly protective. I sit on the bed and rest against the soft pillows. Harry sits beside me on the edge and dabs my forehead, “Seriously, if you’re not up to it, you don’t have to do the speech.”

“Harry, I have to be a big girl and face the fear. One way or another. It’s all just a lot to handle,” I sigh, “Will you just ask my lady maids to come in an hour later than usual? So I can lay down.”

Harry nods, “Yes,” He leans over and kisses my forehead, “Try to relax.”

“It’s hard when the damn papers are on the floor and dictate my future.”

Harry shakes his head, “We will figure it out. One way or another, it’ll be okay.”

He is right; one way or another it’ll work out the way it’s meant to. What’s meant to be will always be. Right now, what’s meant to be is taking my world and turning it upside down.

♚ ♚ ♚

With heavy breaths, I try my best to compose myself and steadily speak, but with every word I am forced to utter, I feel a heaviness in my chest that’s threatening to break my walls of resistance and cause me to break. This speech is the first public speech that I have addressed, and it is turning out to be a lot harder than I had anticipated.

I hold back my tears, aware that cameras everywhere and several sets of eyes cast upon me. It was too soon for me to have to do this. Speaking about my father is still raw and cuts me like a knife. I shouldn’t have let Pippa coerce me into delivering a speech, and I should have taken my time with healing and working through things. The monarch and the expectations can wait. My mental and emotional health is more important than addressing the public and all the national leaders who acquire my attention.

I sense a hand to the small of my back, and I take my eyes away from the paper in front of me. I glance to my side and see Harry beside me, my other half, my shoulder to cry on and the person who holds me up when I’m down and praises the happiness with me. “I can’t,” I whisper, choking up with tears, finally allowing them to cascade down my cheeks. I attempt to turn into him so that I can’t be viewed grieving, but I can’t wholly hide, I can’t lean in for a hug and sob like I want to. I have to remember the boundaries between the royal and security guard as the people are viewing.

Harry doesn’t say anything. He naturally places an arm around me, leaving no gaps between us before moving the paper closer to him. Harry clears his throat and, without warning, begins to continue my speech for me. “He was an honorary member of society, a king that will be remembered for his devotion to the nation but most of all will be remembered as a loving father and doting husband.”

I subtly wipe a few of my tears away, doing my best to hold firm as a future Queen. Coronation day hasn’t arrived, so I’m technically not Queen until then, not that it matters considering it will be Harry’s coronation. I stand before my people, vulnerable and emotional, something that is frowned upon and has been for years. It is rare to see a royal display emotions other than pleasure and power, especially when broadcasted over news outlets and social media. A royal is to uphold a particular disposition. We aren’t meant to come across as weak. As I stand here, with tears, I’m aware that I may seem inadequate, but I’d rather appear weak and show the world I have emotions than hide them. Anyone in my shoes would still be mourning the loss of their father, no matter his status, for me to uphold the image that I’m absolutely fine and emotionless is not what I want to support. I do not want to be Queen and viewed as though I have no emotions. Raw emotions show character. It teaches people it’s okay to feel things, it’s okay to break, no matter who you are— it doesn’t make me any less of a Queen. For those who look up to me, I don’t want them to observe me as just another royal or another one who follows all protocols and traditions, and I will not sustain the image of perpetually being emotionless. I am Queen, and I am human.

The speech ends, and Harry guides me away from the small podium, escorting me to escape behind closed doors, where I find a place to sit and compose myself, “Thank you,” I breathe out, “It was too soon,” I whisper, wiping a few tears away from my eyes, doing my best to hold myself together. This is not how I wanted things to go. I didn’t want to break down and for Harry to have to save me from emotional wreckage.

Harry bends down to my level, placing a hand on my knee, “You did a grand job.”

“I started to stutter and cried. I balled my eyes out, Harry.” I don’t feel proud of myself because I couldn’t finish the speech and honour my father in the way he deserves.

“And? That shows that you’re human; you’re normal. Us normal people stutter and have emotions, baby,” Harry winks, managing to pull a chuckle from me, “Pippa did that on purpose, to have you break down in front of people...” Harry trails off.

I would love to say I’m surprised, but I’m not. I’m the centre of attention with the media spotlight, and it would make her night to have me breaking down. Anything in an attempt to continue to prove I’m unfit to take the crown. That’s probably her plan, prove I am incompetent and make sure I never have that royal power. Unlucky for her, Harry is on my side and not hers as she thinks.

“How kind,” I sigh, “Thanks for saving me.”

“Always,” Harry responds, “Wipe the tears away, put on a smile and show them the tough Queen I know you can be, don’t let that speech or Pippa bring you down, okay?”

“Are you giving me a pep talk?” I stifle a laugh as I wipe away a few more tears.

“Someone has to,” Harry responds, standing back to his feet and offering his hand to help me off the chair and to my own feet. He brings me in for a hug and holds me close, “Pippa wants you to fail. She’s watching,” Harry murmurs, “I love you.”

I draw away and nod my head, mouthing an ‘I love you, too’ before taking a step away from him, well aware that it’s only a matter of seconds before someone bursts through the door to summon me. I adjust my dress and posture, taking a deep breath and looking for Harry’s nod and gesture for me to head back to the same room that left me weeping. I stroll in, head held high, my heels hammering the marble flooring and keeping my composure as a strong-willed, calm and collected woman.

I make my rounds by talking to different people and allowing certain photographers at the event to take my photo. With everything that has happened, we need some excellent media coverage within the royals. I am sure Victoria’s death will continue to be in the headlines. I’m sure somewhere down the line, the issue that happened at the palace with Henry’s doppelgänger will arise and spark significant headlines. Royal scandals and murders seem to be the headlines everyone enjoys. I will not be the following headline or humiliation. The media will not predict my downfall or portray me as weak.

As I politely dismiss one of the diplomats, Pippa makes her presence known and offers me a smile, “May I hug you?” She questions and I shake my head.

“Security isn't allowing me to be touched,” I lie, not wanting Pippa’s hug nor anyone else’s. I’m not much in the mood to be touched.

Oliver nods his head, “Correct, strict orders, she isn’t to be touched.”

Pippa rolls her eyes, “Harry’s orders?”

“No,” Oliver instantly responds before I can, “Head of security, please respect the decisions,” Oliver narrows his eyes towards Pippa, not caring that she is a government official. Harry has trained him well, I see.

Pippa nods her head in agreement, “I just wanted to say that the speech was lovely.”

“You wrote it.”

“You’re very hostile, Anna,” Pippa sighs.

“You set me up.” I point out the obvious.

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean,” Pippas' voice is soft as she cocks her head to the side. “It was kind of Harry to step up, but now people will start to speculate,” she trails off into a whisper, making sure nobody can hear her. God forbid if the world knows I have a steady relationship with someone who isn’t royal.

“Perhaps if I weren’t forced to make the speech, he wouldn’t have had to step up and comfort me. I don’t appreciate the events of this evening.”

“Anna, it is not my fault,” she shakes her head, “I followed procedure. It was time you spoke.”

“And as it is time for me to walk away from this conversation, good evening, Pippa,” I dismiss the conversation, walking away before either of us can speak any further. I do not care for what she has to say right now or for the excuses. I’m sure she will blame my mother and say my mother was partly to blame for the speech. Which, I’m sure my mother agreed to the address and for me to speak tonight, and I believe they were both wrong for forcing it upon me and not letting me grieve, but my anger is towards Pippa for now.

♚ ♚ ♚

For the evening, I stood my ground; I didn’t let anything bother me or break me down— I didn’t run to Harry or have him, or Oliver devise an escape plan— I survived my first event without my father and as QUEEN… Just not officially. I know I can do this, it may be arduous, and it may take everything I have inside me, but I can do this. It does make it a little more manageable to know that I have Harry beside me if I need him. That alone gives me a little extra power and support. Sometimes, all someone needs is a bit of confidence and support to thrive.

I escort across the grounds with Oliver, my heels in my hand, while my other hand prevents the hem from dragging across the soft grass that smells of sweet saturnine with every step I take. For the first night in a while, there are no battering winds that howl until the early hours, there is no bitter chill, it finally feels bearable to be outside without the need of heavy coats and wraps, perhaps this is a short-lived moment, but I will take it and relish in it the best that I can. Oliver gently grabs me and pulls back on me, drawing me behind him. “Don’t come any further,” Oliver shouts, his hand reaching for his gun.

“What is it with the men always pulling a gun on me, geez,” Madeleine responds sarcastically.

“Announce yourself formally,” Oliver responds.

“Princess Madeleine Noelle Veil of Denmark. Anastasia, tell him who I am,” Madeleine huffs, holding her hands up as Oliver continues to stare her down.

“She’s fine, Oliver.” I chuckle.

“That’s not what Harry said,'' Oliver responds, causing me to laugh. I am not surprised that Harry and Madeleine don’t get along.

“It’s fine,” I assure Oliver, “Harry has already screened her. She was here for the funeral, remember?” I try to jog Oliver's memory.

Oliver nods his head and steps aside, allowing me to walk closer to Madeleine, “Why are you out here?” I softly ask, looking around, unsure why she is by herself and unaccompanied by a guard.

“Fresh air, Harry said I could come out; he is watching from the doors,” Madeleine gestures towards the Palace doors a little further from our position. “They burned down the Palace, though.”

“Who?” I softly question, walking beside Madeleine.

Madeleine lifts her shoulders into a shrug, “I don’t know. Louis seems to think it is the people who are causing everyone havoc.”

“Why would they target your Palace? I am sorry. Which one? Charlottenlund Palace?”

Madeleine shakes her head, “Amalienborg, lucky nobody was there. It was intentionally set. Mum and Dad were meant to be there.”

“Perhaps it was an accident, surely?” I suggest, unsure of who would purposely do such a thing to Amalienborg. Madeleine’s family have nothing to do with us British royals; they stay mutual and don’t cause issues— They’re the quiet royals that don’t mind being under the radar— They show up for special events and go on about their business.

Madeleine heavily sighs, and I push the Palace doors open, not allowing Oliver to open the door for me, “So, you and Louis have been talking?” I change the subject, not sure how to go about the issue with her Palace catching fire. I don’t fully believe that it was deliberate— there has to be some logical explanation.

Madeleine grows quiet, walking into the Palace behind me, “Madeleine?”

“He is lovely to talk to, a good man.”

“Stay away from him, Madeleine,” I warn her, not wanting to see either of them get hurt or drag me into their mess.

“What? Why?”

I raise a brow and shake my head, “He is my childhood best friend. I can’t choose between you both, so if you break up, I can’t choose.”

Madeleine laughs, “Who said anything about dating?”

“Whatever the two of you are doing, I am sure it is more than talking,” I mutter, knowing both of them too well. They’re stuck in a palace together on the same floor, and I highly doubt they’re talking about royal duties and discussing policies.

“I beg to differ,” Madeleine shakes her head, “He is good company.”

“Whatever you do, be nice to him.”

“You have little faith in me.”

“You tend to be intimidating, be nice. Do you need me, or are you just roaming the palace?” I softly question as we reach my floor. I’m not trying to dismiss her rudely or be a horrible friend, but I think she’d prefer to find comfort in Louis than me.

“Roaming,” she responds, walking off before I can say anything further.

I glance towards Oliver and raise a brow, “Do you think she and Louis are a thing?”

Oliver shrugs his shoulders, “I know nothing and see nothing.”

“Mhm,” I hum, not convinced, “I know that’s a lie, but for now, I’m going to leave it alone. I don’t know if I want to know,” I chuckle and shake my head, “Thank you for your service,” I respond, stepping into my room and closing the door behind me.

I smile over at Harry and walk towards him, “I did it, I survived, and I didn’t need you.”

“Ouch,” Harry laughs, and I sigh, realising how my words came out. “I know,” he shakes his head before I can say anything, “I’m proud of you.”

“Me too,” I grin, stepping closer to him and kissing him sweetly. He pulls me closer, and I wrap my arms around his neck, deepening the sweet kiss.

I have missed the taste of his lips and the burning energy that spreads like wildfire and ignites my soul. He sits on the edge of the bed and pulls me into his lap, where I straddle him at his hips, his hands roaming my body while mine eagerly moves to his button-down, flicking each button before he draws his honey lips from mine. He leans closer and presses his lips to my neck, causing me to go weak instantly. I tilt my head to the side and press my hands to his shoulders, the soft kisses down my slender column already causing my head to spin. I feel him bite down gently before pulling away with a devious smirk and bright, cunning eyes. He drops his hand to my thigh and glides his hand against my soft skin, ever so slowly and delicately, ignoring my dress and inching closer and closer to the material of my underwear. He dances along with the lace band, teasing me before I harshly kiss him, needing to feel him, one way or another. He caresses the lace, causing my breath to hitch when I feel it move slightly to the slide. I pull away from his lips and see him smirk, his eyes gleaming with delight at my eager anticipation and my yearning. “No foreplay, no teasing, let’s go,” I shake my head, my hand moving to his pants and unzipping them. Harry chuckles and disagrees.

He puts me at ease and slides a finger in, a breath exhaling from my lips as I move my hips slightly to his circular motions. His fingers slide upwards, relentlessly moving, dipping, swirling and circling around, adding pressure and attempting to obtain the one spot I have been craving to be touched.

“No, please,” I sigh, the sound of the door knocking echoing through the room, taking me away from the sensational feeling I have been deprived of, “Don’t stop,” I instruct, my hands pressed to his shoulders, my nails digging into the material of his shirt.

“Really want me, huh?”

“Tired of interruptions,” I whisper with all honesty. Every single time we get time alone, we are interrupted. It has been a few weeks, at least six since we had a moment to ourselves, and I’m pretty sure we were also interrupted that time too.

I tilt my head back, my mouth allowing a small groan to escape as I am enthralled with the circular touch and rhythm he’s presenting me with. “Harry,” I huff, “Keep going,” I instruct, feeling the aching desire through my body, the sensations radiating through every nerve possible. I feel my body begin to go weak as he holds me firmly closer to him, my legs starting to quiver, and my body squirming against him. “Harry—“ I breathe out, my chest rising rapidly.

Abruptly, without warning, Harry stops and slides his fingers out, causing my mouth to drop in utter disappointment.

You have to be fucking kidding me. He shakes his head and uses his free hand to adjust his pants, managing to do so without bothering to move me, “Ye’ all wet.”

“No shit, you got me all hot and bothered,” I mutter, my irritation washing away the moment he unzips my dress from the back and takes it off of me with ease.

He stands up, holding me against him, forcing his pants down his legs and leaving them on the floor before setting me down on the bed and wasting no time with moving the lace in his way and teasing me with the tip of his length at my entrance. I curl my fingers into his shirt and draw his chest closer, taking bold possession of his mouth, tasting the honeysuckle flavour and moving my hips to the motions of his. My body absorbs the intimate feel of him, blood humming in both our veins’ with every deep repetitive thrust that takes place. He moans into our kiss, and I tighten my grip on his shirt, the heat between us intensifying. Probing in a slow, repetitive rhythm, he perceives my every desire.

My head spins with the achy feeling of him inside of me, my legs quivering. He takes my hands and forces me to release his shirt, moving my arms over my head and holding them in place, “Hold it,” He instructs, my breath hitching in my throat as I’m getting closer and closer.

Tangy taste and male scent fill the air between us with every powerful thrust that drives us closer and closer to the barrier of resistance I am fighting. Our tongues dip and swirl between the soft groans of the two of us while entangled together in the heat of our bodies.

My breaths become shallow, and I can feel the tingly sensation in my toes that radiate around my body. My body closes tightly around him, and he squeezes my arm slightly, “Anna,” he breathes against my lips, my back beginning to arch, my body fighting the urge and squirming under him.

Our breaths quicken and the desire between us thickens to the point it's almost unbearable, and we can’t get any closer to each other or enough of each other.

He falls beside me, and we catch our breath with crooked grins. I tilt my head to look at him, “Was worth the bloody wait,” I chuckle.

Harry swallows hard, “Had been a while,” he agrees, propping up on his forearm and looking at me with his cheery grin, “Round 2?”

“We’d get interrupted,” I laugh, inching closer and pressing my lips to his just as his phone vibrates on the side table, “Fuckin’ hell, does everyone just have a bell that goes off every time we attempt to be intimate?” Harry pulls away and mutters, reaching over for his phone, “Fuck,” Harry sighs, forcing himself off the bed.

“What now?”

“I’m pretty sure a bell goes off when we try to make love, constantly interrupted,” Harry huffs, walking around the room and finding a clean pair of pants, “Always fucking something,” he shakes his head, his fingers quickly typing away on his screen, “I won’t be coming to bed any time soon, I’ll see you in the morning,” Harry informs me, looking at his shirt and noticing the creases, making the quick decision to change it.

I nod my head and pull the sheet to cover my exposed body, “Is there a problem?”

“I just have to watch the cameras until five in the morning to make sure there’s no suspicious activity from the staff who are currently being blamed for Henry’s murder,” Harry informs me, his eyes narrowing towards me. Whatever Victoria and my father managed to get themselves into has proven to be more than any of us can handle.

Harry claims he can handle it and figure things out, but I’m starting to wonder if it’s just a matter of time before it all catches up to us. He can protect me all he wants, but the plot continues to thicken. “That means you won’t be on my service,” I sigh, remembering my royal duties for tomorrow.

“Probably not. I need to sleep at some point. Matthew or Oliver will look after you. Guess I have to look into the palace fire for Madeleine, too.”

“What about Henry?”

“I don’t know about the arrangements.”

“No, how are you handling it? Sweeping it under the rug? Announcing it?”

“Baby, I do not know. I think they’re going to release that he passed peacefully in his sleep from an unknown cause… The palace doesn’t need any bad publicity, so I’m trying to hide it the best I can.” … “Just don’t talk to anyone about this, okay? Not even the lady’s in waiting or your assistant or publicist, nobody.”

I nod my head, “I know… Eleanor hasn’t mentioned it.” … “Good luck, King, I’m going to sleep now,” I half-smile, not thrilled that he has to handle this circus and not myself.

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flooffybits · 4 years ago

Text

Where You At

Idol: Jeon Heejin (Loona)

Request: Yes

Anon: okay then! :) mind if i request a heejin scenario wherein she had to break up with s/o back when they were trainees because she knew thought that both of them wouldn’t make it if they continue? eventually, loona debuted and one day, they attended an award show and she didn’t know s/o’s group would be there as well considering they were rookies (loona sunbaenims hihi) and memories of them started flashing back. maybe a bittersweet ending? sorry if this is too much work author-nim :(

Author’s note: as soon as i read this, i immediately thought of their song where you at (hyejoos part there hurts) also! you dont have to apologize! its okay

The sound of the people screaming the name of their favorite groups or artists was all everyone could really hear aside from the mc’s voice and the background music that played at the background.

Loona was situated a bit nearer to the stage and they couldn’t hold their excitement when they found out that they would be attending the award show. Even though they’ve been to various ones, this one was much bigger with various artists and fans all over the arena. Staring at the stage, Heejin felt her knee bouncing while she fiddled with her dress. She wasn’t typically nervous, but this was a big event and she was nervous about the outcome.

“You okay?” Jungeun asked the younger girl when she leaned a bit closer and Heejin nodded her head, exhaling while she plastered a smile. “Yeah, still kind of adjusting.” She admits, making the latter nod before smiling and patting her arm. “It’s a huge event. I didn’t even think we’d be invited.” She comments and Heejin nibbled on her lower lip. “Yeah.”

The program was going to last for a while longer and various artists have gone up the stage to perform and even accept awards, Loona being one of them. The night was just full of surprise and excitement, but nothing could prepare Heejin for the next group that was called on stage.

Her eyes darted over and her breathing hitched when she saw the six people. The group passed by earlier, but she was too busy talking to Jungeun and Yeojin to notice them. But now that she could finally see all of the new faces, her heart dropped when they landed on your familiar face.

“Heejin…” Hyunjin’s worried voice met her ears and she clenched her fists tightly under the table. She knows that you had debuted a little later than she did. After the two of you decided to be trainees, the relationship didn’t last long because one, you weren’t accepted into her company, and were scouted elsewhere. The second reason was because neither your schedules could work out. When you did get to see each other, you were both just so tired and the time wasn’t even enough for her.

So she decided to just end it for both your sake and careers.

When she focused on Loona, she has forgotten all about you. She forced herself to keep in mind that it was for the best, even if she did have to rip both your hearts out that day, but there were instances that you would stray back into her head, especially when your name and face popped up online.

She was thrown back to the time where you were both just regular teenagers, getting through school with dreams up in the sky. Your laughter was always relaxing to hear after a particularly bad day and she often wonders if she hadn’t given up on you that day.

Seeing you on stage, dancing and singing your heart out made her remember just how passionate you were with the things you loved; her included.

Heejin had been at the center of your world ever since you both started dating and she admitted that you were hers, too. Every day, you were by each other’s side and she would always see her future on a stage, with you.

She would dream of happier times with you, where you would both walk to and from school, stopping by the park and sit under a tree, talking about all the things you would do once you grew up.

Your eyes were sharper and more mature from the last time she saw you. From the videos she’s seen of you, your heart was guarded now, and she hates that it’s because she forced you to do it. When you were singing your part, taking center stage, your eyes locked with hers, since she wasn’t far from the stage. She felt the wind knocked out of her lungs by the way you looked, but you were quick to look away.

You could have fought back that day, she thinks. When she told you that she was breaking up with you, she could tell that you wanted to stop her, but all that came out was a pained ‘why’ while you were trying not to cry. You could have said that you could still work it out, you could have made time for each other.

She wanted to know what was going through your head that day. She could tell that your heart breaking, but she didn’t want to stick around to see it crumble when she was the one that left.

Heejin often wondered if you ever wanted to go back, if you missed her the way she missed you. Even though she knows that she has no right, she still missed you, and to see you in person again reminded her just how much she did.

If you gave the word, she would come running to you. She wanted you back, but that would be too selfish of her.

You’ve done nothing but love and support her, comfort her when she needed, and listened to her when she just wanted to pour out everything that was on her chest.

Before your group surfaced and started gaining fame, maybe she did forget you, buried you in the back of her mind and pretended that you were never there. When she did that, it felt like she was erasing a whole chunk of her life and it made her miserable. And when she does go back to certain memories, she finds herself wanting to just curl up and cry because you’re always there, lingering somewhere and her heart can’t just forget about you.

Your voice soon rang, belting out the high note and making fans scream loudly and it shakes Heejin inside just how powerful and raw it sounds. Hyunjin placed her hand over her own and gave it a small squeeze, being one of the few that knew what had happened since she was your friend, too.

When your performance came to an end, they clapped and Heejin’s eyes never left your figure as you left the stage and began to head back to your seats, now realizing that you weren’t really that far away with just two tables between you. She wanted to go up to you and talk, but that would cause a ruckus among fans.

She decided that waiting until the event was over would be the best and if she were given the chance, she would talk to you. If you let her.

Heejin has never wanted an award show to end as bad as this one. Though she appreciates all the people present, she just wanted to try and talk to you. That was the only thing in her mind at the moment, failing to think of the possibility that you might not want to see her.

But when you were awarded for rookie of the year, Heejin could feel her heart swell in pride while also a pang. She could be celebrating that with you, she thinks. You’ve worked so hard and here you were, getting the recognition that you deserved.

She watched as your group accepted the award and then you were all looking to each other until you were pushed in front of the group by your youngest member. You looked surprised by the suddenness when you turned to the mic and cleared your throat.

“Ah, this is… wow.” Your voice grew soft as you glanced at your group, all of them smiling and letting you continue. “It hasn’t been that long since our debut, but thank you for being able to believe in us and supporting us. To our managers who have looked after us, to our director who believed in our potential, to our friends and family for reminding us of our goals, and most especially to our dedicated fans for working just as hard as us, we wouldn’t be here without you. Thank you.” After your speech, all of you bowed and made your way back to your seats, your hands shaking after such a turn of events and your leader had to grab you just so you could go back and sit down.

After that, everything seemed to go back to normal, and when it was time to go, Hyunjin looked at her friend in worry. “What are you going to do?” She asked carefully and the older girl ran her fingers through her hair, nibbling on her lip as she glanced to your group, who was saying goodbye to the other artists. “I want to talk to Y/n.” She whispered, her arms going around herself.

“Girls, come on.” Sooyoung called out, waving all of them over and Heejin felt her heart drop. Was she really going to leave without getting to say anything?

But the direction Sooyoung was leading everyone was in the same direction your group was headed and she immediately felt her adrenaline rushing when you slowly neared. She held her breath and as soon as you were near, her members were congratulating you and your members while you gave them a smile.

When your eyes meet, it takes everything in her not to hug you. She forces a smile, Hyunjin standing right beside her and smiling at you in greeting. “Congratulations.” They said and you chuckle awkwardly, shifting your weight from one foot to another. “Thank you.”

Judging from your actions and facial expression, she knows that you weren’t expecting her to approach you. But then, you smiled at her again, a little softer from earlier while Hyunjin subtly left to talk to the other members. “You were great out there.” You tell her and a lump forms in her throat. “You, too.” She mutters, all the things she wanted to say now lost.

It’s been a couple years since she’s been this close to you and her heart was jumping out of her chest with your familiar presence that she couldn’t help herself. “I’m sorry.”

Surprised, you stared at the girl before shaking your head. “It’s okay. You did what you had to.” You assure her but she’s shaking her head. She was sorry for so many things.

I’m sorry for breaking your heart.

I’m sorry for abandoning you.

I’m sorry, I hurt you.

I’m sorry for being scared.

I’m sorry for breaking my promise.

She was close to crying, and even when you didn’t want to crack under her stare, you could tell that she was tormenting herself with the past. So quietly, you reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, her fingers enveloping yours while she squeezed back. “It’s okay.” You repeated, voice soft.

“Y/n, come on!” Your leader called and you looked up, retrieving your hand while you nodded your head and Heejin was terrified that this may be the one and only time she’ll ever see you again.

“I have to-”

“Can we meet somewhere? Please?”

The conflict is clear on your face and it’s understandable, but Heejin wanted to be able to make things right. And maybe, just maybe, she could get you back.

“I… don’t know, Heejin.” The way her name rolls off your tongue makes her warm at the familiarity of it. But she presses for a better answer. “Please, I just want to talk and then… and then you can decide then.” She was pleading, begging for even just a few minutes, and as much as your mind told you that it wasn’t going to be a good idea, your heart wasn’t cooperating.

With a sigh, you looked around before nodding your head. “Okay.” You dug into your bag to see if there was anything to write on, and luckily, there was a rolled up piece of paper that you haven’t thrown away yet. After writing your number, you hand it to her and she grips it tightly.

“I’ll talk to you later.”

And then you were being led out by your group members, giving her a hesitant glance before you were finally out of the door and this time, she was the one left watching you go.

When they’re on their way home, Heejin glances at your number a few times, unable to fall asleep like the rest of her friends because her thoughts were far too loud to keep her from sleeping.

She had a chance. She just needed to do it properly.

Hey Y/n

#girl group #girl group scenarios #girl group imagines #loona #loona scenarios #loona imagines #heejin loona #loona heejin #heejin #jeon heejin #heejin scenarios #heejin imagines

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jadejedi · 4 years ago

Text

Love Does Not Fail (7/?)

Summary: When Anakin saves the galaxy from Palpatine, Padmé and his children survive, but their family is split apart nonetheless. Leia is taken to be raised in the Temple, not knowing that the Jedi who “found” her is actually her father. Luke grows up with Padmé, knowing only his mother’s side of the family. But some things are inevitable.

Chapter Summary: A new darkness arises in the galaxy.

ao3 link: here

A/N: Sorry it’s been nearly ten months lmao. Oops. Thanks for reading, let me know what you think! (more notes and thoughts on ao3)

“Are you sure that this is the best time to start dragging him around the galaxy?” Anakin asked Ahsoka skeptically, with a bit of an edge to it. She knew he was protective of Luke, and she respected that but-

“I am his teacher, Anakin,” she reminded him, trying to keep her tone gentle rather than defensive . They met about once a month, usually at some diner or bar in what she wouldn’t necessarily describe as a shady part of Coruscant, but shady-adjacent, perhaps, to catch up and talk about Luke’s training. “He’s ready to do some travelling without Padmé. And it’s not like it’ll be anything different than what he does with Padmé, anyways. Just more of a focus on training.”

At the still unconvinced expression on his face, Ahsoka sighed, and softened. “I promise I’ll be extra careful on what assignments we take him on. We won’t get involved in this Snoke guy’s business.”

“I know,” Anakin sighed. “I still don’t like it.”

As much as she believed Luke was ready to do some travelling with her and Barriss, she understood Anakin’s worries. Five months ago marked the beginning of a new Senate rotation. Bail Organa’s time as Chancellor was over, as he had set stricter term limits for the office. Mon Mothma had been elected Chancellor, and her Vice Chancellor was now Mazun Dul, the Senator from Corellia.

Dul’s election had been troubling to many, as he represented a new political party that had arisen with Palpatine’s downfall. They called themselves the First Order. Their leader, Corellia’s new prime minister, a man called Snoke, pushed for Republic expansion in the Outer Rim as well as less Republic intervention in already ‘civilized’ worlds.

The First Order was good at playing around the issue, but Ahsoka, as well as Padmé and many others, could tell that they held the same anti-alien sentiments that Palpatine had secretly harboured.

Since the election of Snoke, Corellia had been swept up in violence, from both its criminal element and from his political detractors. Other worlds that also had a First Order presence had also started experiencing small amounts of violence, usually protests gone south, or riots.

“Look, whatever Snoke is playing at, he won’t get very far,” Ahsoka tried to reassure him. “People are still wary of conflict so soon after the Clone Wars. They’ll get tired of the violence he’s stirring up. And I promise we’ll stay away from worlds with a First Order presence; we’re going to Kashyyk. Since Wookies have a long history of being exploited in this kind of conflict, their leaders are worried. Padmé just needs us to go and calm them down a bit. We’ll be talking to their leaders, then delivering supplies to an area affected by a storm; we’ll be fine.”

Ahsoka was the best person for this job, because she understood Shyriiwook, and she knew one of their leaders.

Anakin gave her a look. “Isn’t that where you got kidnapped and hunted for sport?”

“That was Trandosha,” she corrected him. “It’s close by, but we’ll be coming from a totally different direction,” she assured him. “We won’t even be passing by it.”

“Fine,” Anakin assented begrudgingly, even though Ahsoka wasn’t really looking for his permission.

“Make sure you keep your lightsabers out of sight,” Anakin reminded her, and she had to keep herself from rolling her eyes.

“I’m not stupid,” she told him, raising an eyebrow.

“I never said you were!”

“You’ve got to trust that I know what I’m doing, Anakin.” She sighed. “The lightsaber laws are nothing new. Barriss and I would never do anything that would put Luke or Padmé at risk.”

Years ago, not long after Bail Organa had been elected Chancellor, there had been some debate about the Sith, and whether or not it was illegal to hold such beliefs. However, it had not been popular to criminalize an entire religion, so instead, certain measures had been put into place to appease the Jedi, such as making it illegal to carry or wield a lightsaber unless one was a member of the Order.

Ahsoka continued to carry her lightsaber anyways, concealed away in a pocket or in a bag.

“How is Leia?” she asked, changing the subject.

Anakin did not look impressed by her attempt to move on, but did so anyway. “She’s doing well, I think. She’s near the top of her clan in lightsaber skills.”

“Have you ever considered teaching more than just lightsaber classes?” she asked.

“No,” he replied with a shake of his head. “My teachings aren’t very orthodox.”

She laughed. “No, they’re not.” She smiled at him. “I learned a lot from you in just three years, and lightsaber duels was only a bit of it.”

“Me and the Jedi ways don’t get along very well,” he insisted.

Ahsoka shook her head, exasperated. “Anakin, you always complain about the things the Jedi teach, but you never bother to teach yourself.”

Anakin crossed his arms defensively. “I’m more of a duelist than a philosopher. I’m doing my best with them, Snips.”

Ahsoka softened. “I know you are. I’m sure Leia appreciates having you around, even if she doesn’t know why. But, I really think that you could be a good influence on them. Don’t you? Give them a new perspective?”

“I’m sure Obi-Wan would be thrilled that I’m taking an interest in philosophy,” he agreed after a moment of consideration. “I don’t know about everyone else.”

She laughed.

Ahsoka went straight to the apartment she shared with Barriss after lunch. Luke wouldn’t be done with school for another couple of hours, and the Senate was more Padmé and Dormé’s realm. She could use the time to pack for the trip to Kashyyyk.

She found Barriss meditating in the living room of the apartment. Where Ahsoka tended to prefer wearing jumpsuits when she was working or, if she was working on official business of the Naboo Senatorial office, something similarly functional with a bit more professionalism, Barriss preferred a slightly more elegant look, just as she had as Jedi. Today, she was wearing a flowy black skirt and a nice but comfortable looking blue blouse.

“How did it go?” she asked, eyes still closed in meditation.

“Well,” Ahsoka said as she pulled off her shoes and made her way over to the sofa behind her, “he tried to talk me out of it,” she said, leaning back against the sofa, “but he relented eventually.”

“His fear controls him,” Barriss said after a moment, opening her eyes and relaxing her posture slightly, turning to face Ahsoka.

“It does not!” she disagreed, although sometimes she thought otherwise. “Luke’s his son, it’s natural for him to worry. And hey, he changed his mind, didn’t he? He’s always given me room to train Luke as I see fit.”

Barriss nodded her head, conceding the point. “Fair enough. He’s still not good at controlling his emotions,” she continued before Ahsoka could come to Anakin’s defense again.

Ahsoka sighed. Since being released from prison, and even before, Barriss had believed that her fall had been due to her emotions- fear, anger, hate. So, now she strove to rid herself of those emotions, to feel peace.

Ahsoka didn’t disagree that Barriss’s actions against the Jedi had been motivated by those emotions, but she thought that maybe there was more to it than that.

Luke, for all that he was a child, did not seem to struggle with the same parts of his training than she, and most young Jedi, had. Peace came easily to him. Maybe it was his personality, but that’s not all it was. He was a very sweet, gentle child, but he was still impatient, reckless. Ahsoka privately thought that his peace came from the fact that he didn’t have to struggle with his emotions. He just- felt.

Maybe that was making it too easy for him, and it would backfire later, but for now, Ahsoka was content to continue down their current path. Sometimes the easy path was easy because it was a shortcut, a dangerous way to get to one’s goal, but sometimes the easy path was easy simply because it means you’re doing it right.

So, she taught Luke to not try and separate himself from his emotions, but to be in harmony with them, and she was trying to teach herself the same thing.

But Barriss disagreed.

“Maybe trying to control our emotions at all is what is dangerous,” Ahsoka suggested hesitantly, leaning forward, bracing her elbows on her knees.

Barriss shook her head, her intense blue eyes pointed at the ground. “If we don’t control our emotions, then they will control us.” She reached up to fiddle with the ends of her dark hair that she kept shoulder length, longer than when they’d been Padawans. She was beautiful, as she always had been. She looked up; her eyes held Ahsoka’s gaze. “Emotions like that are like an ocean. Fear, anger, and hatred-”

“And love,” Ahsoka added.

Barriss nodded, face still passive. “And love. They’ll toss you around, try to drown you, sweep you off the shore. You have to build a wall, to protect yourself from it.”

“The ocean doesn’t try to do anything. It just is,” Ahsoka countered. “If you learn to swim, or have a boat, then you’re safe.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Are you?”

Ahsoka huffed and leaned back against the sofa. She knew what Barriss was saying. That the ocean- emotions- would always be dangerous. Even if you could swim, or be safely in a boat, there were always dangers lurking beneath the surface. Not to mention the storms.

Leia sat in one of the Temple’s small meditation rooms alone. Normally she meditated with her clan, but right now, she just needed time alone.

She took in a deep breath, holding it in for a moment, and exhaling slowly. She repeated the exercise a few times until she felt centered.

She’d had a dream last night. It hadn’t been a normal dream, like her reoccurring dream about falling into one of the fountains in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, or even a nightmare.

In the dream, she’d seen faces, people. A woman she could barely make out, with curly brown hair and a kind smile. A man with curly dark blond hair. A few others, another woman, more distant with darker hair, and a humanoid alien of some kind that was too blurry to recognize. And a child.

She couldn’t tell if she was the child, or if she was watching the child. She saw them all against the background of a green meadow. It felt slow, idyllic, peaceful.

Leia tried to focus, tried to see their faces clearly, but she couldn’t.

The dream, it was beautiful, but sad.

It was her family, she knew. She wondered if the dream was sad because it made her sad, or if the memory itself was sad. It felt like a beautiful memory.

Leia did another round of breathing exercises and tried to push past the memory. She focused on the emotions the dream stirred up in her: sadness, confusion, wanting.

She repeated the Jedi Code silently in her mind as she breathed, releasing her emotions into the Force.

There is no emotion, there is peace.

Her sadness was only disturbing the peace within her; she had to let it go.

There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.

She pushed away her confusion, focusing on what she knew. The dream was of her family, but they were not important. She was a Jedi, the Jedi were her family.

There is no passion, there is only serenity.

Love, Leia knew, was passion. Family, attachments, these things broke the serenity of a Jedi’s mind. She didn’t want them.

There is no chaos, there is only harmony.

Her mind must be calm, pushing away the emotions. She must be at one with all around her.

There is no death, there is only the Force.

The Force contained all things, and when something died, it was absorbed into the Force. Her time with her family was dead. It had lived when the Force had needed it to, but that time had passed, and all was as the Force willed it.

With one last deep breath, Leia slowly got up from her meditation pose and found herself heading not towards where she knew her clan’s history lesson was supposed to start, but towards the part of the Temple where most of the Knight’s quarters were.

She walked purposefully, but not too quickly, trying to pretend like she belonged here during a part of the day when most initiates were in classes, until she reached Jedi Skywalker’s door. She hesitated only briefly before knocking.

She felt him reach out to see who was at his door. Hi, she projected.

After a moment, he opened the door, a confused smile on his face. “Leia, it’s good to see you,” he said. “Shouldn’t you be in classes?”

She looked him in the eye. “I’m skipping,” she told him matter-of-factly.

He gave her a surprised grin. “Well, then, come on in,” he said, motioning her into his quarters.

Leia had first been in Jedi Skywalker’s quarters about three years ago. She’d been sad, she remembered, because she’d worried that moving into her clan bunks meant that he wouldn’t be able to do her hair any more. He’d shown her where his room was, and had told her to stop by anytime she wanted her hair done.

His quarters were small, plain grey walls just like in her clan’s bunk. There were blinds half closed over the windows, a sofa, and a tiny kitchenette in one corner, and a door to his bedroom in the other.

“So,” he said, closing the door after her and sitting cross-legged on the sofa, “Do you want to tell me why you’re skipping your classes?”

She sat down on the floor across from him, adopting the same posture and gave him a look. “I wanted to talk to you, obviously.”

He chuckled. “Of course. And what was it you wanted to talk about?”

Leia glanced down at her hands in her lap. “Do you ever have sad dreams?” she asked him, not sure whether to directly ask him about her family.

“Sad dreams?” he asked, considering. “Not nightmares?”

She shook her head.

“Yes, I guess I have.”

“What do they mean?” she asked. “Are they visions?”

He sighed. “Well, I imagine that that depends on the dream.” He smiled sadly. “Sometimes the Force gives us dreams that mean something, but sometimes, a dream is just a dream. Maybe it’s a reflection of our day, or a memory, or something you want.”

“My dream was about my family, I think,” she admitted. “I could barely make them out. But in the dream, I wanted to be with them. Is it bad?” she asked, quietly.

A shadow crossed over his face. “No, it’s not bad.”

“It’s not?” she asked hopefully.

“No.” His expression was as serious as she’d ever seen it. “Leia, you can’t control what you dream.”

“But what if my dreams are a reflection, like you said? A reflection of what I want? Master Yoda says that Jedi should not want attachments.”

He huffed. “We all have attachments, even Master Yoda.”

Leia looked at him skeptically. She found that hard to believe. “Really?”

“Yes, really!” he said, his serious expression breaking into a slight grin. “Attachment isn’t something we can simply not have. Jedi are taught to have compassion, after all, which is a form of unconditional love. That compassion is bound to lead us towards attachments.”

Leia crossed her arms. “I don’t think that’s what that means,” she disagreed.

He laughed slightly. “Maybe not,” he muttered. “It doesn’t matter what it’s supposed to mean,” he said, more clearly. “You don’t have to agree with me, or Master Yoda, or Master Seminaria. As you get older, you’ll have to make up your own mind. There is more than one right way to be a Jedi, Leia.”

She nodded in understanding, feeling a bit better about her dream. She still wasn’t sure if she agreed completely, but he was right that she didn’t control her dreams. It didn’t make her a bad Jedi.

He stood up with a brief smile, offering a hand to help her up. “C’mon, I’ll walk you back to your class. I have my own class that is starting soon, actually.”

“A lightsaber class?” Leia asked.

“Not quite,” he said as he led them out of his quarters. “Philosophy, actually.”

“I didn’t know you taught Jedi theology,” she remarked. She was kind of surprised that they let him. Everyone knew that Jedi Skywalker wasn’t a typical Jedi.

He chuckled, seeming to sense her reaction. “It doesn’t really seem like my thing, does it?”

She shrugged, her cheeks heating up.

“Well, you’re right; it isn’t. But I’ve been talked into it. This is only my second class; Obi-wan is letting me cover for him while he is off-planet.”

“Master Kenobi is letting you?” she asked, disbelieving that Jedi Skywalker would want to teach that kind of class

He hesitated for a moment, before replying. “Yes. I was talked into it by my former padawan.”

“She’s alive?” Leia blurted without thinking.

Jedi Skywalker glanced down at her and gave a wry chuckle. “Is that a rumor? No, she’s not dead. She just left. She’s still on Coruscant, even; she works for the Naboo senatorial office.”

“Oh,” Leia said. That must be why he knows so much about Naboo. She wanted to ask why his padawan had left, but wasn’t really sure how, so instead she just followed him silently. Ezra had told them that his padawan had been kicked out, but Jedi Skywalker had just said ‘left’.

“You’re thinking very loudly,” he commented after about a minute of walking in silence. He stopped walking, turning to look at her. “You have questions,” he stated, matter of factly. Leia nodded, feeling shy all of the sudden, even though she’d known Jedi Skywalker practically all her life.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, looking down at her shoes.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he said kindly. “I don’t mind if you ask me your questions. In fact, I’d rather you do that than continue to feed the Temple rumor mill,” he said wryly.

Leia looked back up at him, nodding. “Okay, so your padawan-”

“Ahsoka,” he interrupted.

“So, Ahsoka,” she corrected herself, “You said she left the Order. Did she leave on her own?”

He sighed, crossing his arms. “She chose to leave, if that’s what you mean. But she wasn’t given much of a choice, if you ask me.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

He glanced down at his chrono. “We’ve got to get moving,” he said. “Ahsoka’s decision-” he sighed. “It was complicated.” He gave her a considering look. “I’ll tell you about it when you’re older.”

Leia huffed. He said she could ask questions, but apparently that really only meant one question.

Padmé smiled as Anakin’s speeder landed on her apartment’s landing pad. She didn’t always wait out for him; sometimes he forgot to let her know he was on his way, and he wasn’t always able to come over at the same time, and sometimes she herself got so caught up in her work, and he’d come into her office in the apartment, gently cajoling her away from her work.

But today she waited for him outside, sighing happily as he swept her into his arms. She wound her arms around his neck, breathing in his scent as she could feel his chest expand and contract with a deep sigh of relief.

He set her down, his flesh hand coming up to cup her cheek as he bent down to kiss her. She stood on her toes to meet him, one hand coming up to grasp his shoulder, the other winding into the curls at the nape of his neck.

“I spoke to Leia today,” he told her with a small smile as they separated, and her hands came to rest on his shoulders, while his rested on her waist, thumbs stroking in place.

“You did?” Hearing her daughter’s name brought a smile to her face, even as a jolt of sorrow swept through her.

He hummed in confirmation. “She dreams of us,” he said, in a voice thick with emotion. “She came to me, to ask if her dreams were bad, if they were against the Code.”

Padmé wondered what Leia saw in her dreams of them. Could she feel the sorrow that had run beneath the surface of that year on Naboo?

“What did you tell her?” she asked.

“I told her that we can’t control our dreams any more than we can control who we love,” he said, his bright blue eyes meeting hers.

She smiled sadly. “I’m glad she comes to you for advice. It means she trusts you.”

“She reminds me of you,” he said. “Her big brown eyes, her curiosity, her kindness,” his soft expression changed into a mischievous one as he continued, “her stubbornness.”

Padmé laughed. “Oh, my stubbornness? I think that’s something she got from you,” she insisted.

“It’s definitely from you,” he disagreed, chuckling. “You should see the expression she makes when she disagrees with me. It’s a look I’m familiar with.”

She gave him a look, and he laughed. “There, that’s the one!” he exclaimed, laughing slightly as he leaned down to kiss her cheek.

“How’s Luke?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Well, I haven’t heard from Ahsoka yet, so I assume they’re still in hyperspace,” she told him. They’d left not long after Luke got home from school; Luke had been so excited to go on his first ‘solo’ mission that he’d basically dragged Ahsoka and Barriss out of the door. He’d even packed yesterday without her even having to tell him to.

Anakin looked surprised by this information. “Hyperspace?” he asked.

“To Kashyyyk, remember?” Padmé reminded him. “I thought Ahsoka talked to you about it yesterday.”

His forehead creased. “I guess I didn’t realize that she was planning on leaving so soon.”

“They’ll be fine, Anakin,” she reassured him. “It’s just a simple relief mission. Trust Ahsoka and Barriss to keep him safe.”

“I do trust Ahsoka,” he said slowly, “but are you sure you’re entirely comfortable with letting Barriss spend so much time around Luke?”

“I’m sure,” she said simply. And she was. Barriss was troubled, she knew, much like someone else she knew, but she regretted what she’d done. And more than anything, she trusted Ahsoka’s judgement. She’d spent a lot of time with Barriss over the years, and if she thought it was safe, then Padmé would agree with her.

When Anakin still looked troubled, Padmé stepped back, towards the apartment, grabbing one of his hands to pull him after her. “Ani,” she said with a slightly exasperated smile, “I know you’re worried, but you’ll have time to worry tomorrow. Right now, we have the whole apartment to ourselves; let’s go inside.”

He followed her inside, where it was just the two of them; the outside world and all of its troubles melted away.

Luke was all but vibrating with excitement as the ramp lowered to reveal the world of Kashyyyk. He glanced up at either side of him, first to Barriss on his left, and then to Ahsoka on his right. Threepio followed behind them, ready to act as translator when Ahsoka couldn’t. She smiled at him, placing a hand on his shoulder. His first mission without his mom; it was a big deal.

At the end of the ramp waited members of the King’s council, as well as the local Chieftain, and a couple of generals.

They bowed to the Wookie at the head of the group, and he bowed in return, growling out what Luke assumed to be a greeting. Luke wasn’t as good at languages as Ahsoka and Barriss were.

“Thank you for welcoming us on behalf of his Majesty. Queen Layarria and Senator Amidala of Naboo send their greetings,” Ahsoka said, before turning to Luke and Barriss. “This is the Senator’s son, Luke Naberrie, and Barriss Offee, my fellow representative from Senator Amidala’s office.”

There were more greetings all around, which Luke watched, half interested. He poked at Barriss’ mind, knowing she couldn’t speak Shyriiwook, and instead of a poke back, like he might get with Ahsoka, she just turned and glanced at him, eyebrow raised. He shot her a grin, and he did finally feel an echo of a laugh through the Force. He knew Barriss liked to act like she was so serious, but she was a pretty nice person.

“Reach out with the Force, Luke,” she instructed, leaning down slightly to whisper to him. “Try and feel the emotions of those around you. Be aware of your surroundings.” She gave him a small smile. “Maybe then you won’t feel so left out.”

“Yes, Barriss,” Luke said, dutifully. He did as she said, reaching out with his feelings, and to his surprise, rather than just the calm emotions he expected, he felt a jolt of excitement from one of the Wookies in the back.ff

Luke’s eyes widened when said Wookie swept Ahsoka up in a big hug, roaring a particularly enthusiastic greeting.

“Oh! Chewbacca!” she said with some surprise in her voice. “It’s good to see you, too, old friend.” When he set her down, they talked back and forth for a bit, and Luke found it a bit difficult to only follow half of a conversation, though he could feel that this Chewbacca was happy to see them.

“They certainly seem very friendly,” Threepio remarked behind them.

“Of course they are,” Barriss said with her characteristic calmness and aura of all-knowingness that Luke knew drove Ahsoka batty. “The Wookies have long been very supportive members of the Republic. They have always strove to maintain good relations with other planets, even if that desire hasn’t always been reciprocated.”

“Mom said that Wookies are one of the most noble and loyal species that exist in the Republic,” Luke added, proud to show that he was listening when they talked about politics.

Barriss nodded. “That’s right. That’s why it’s so important to maintain good relations with them. We can’t just neglect them because they’ve always been there; we have to show them we value them.”

“Which is why we’re bringing aid.”

“Exactly.” At this Barriss shot him another little smile, to show that she was proud of him. Luke smiled back, because he knew it was hard for her to show that kind of thing. He’d heard Ahsoka scold her for it more than once.

Eventually, Ahsoka turned back to them.

“Barriss, Luke, this is Chewbacca. We go way back.” Luke smiled up at the tall Wookie. He was so tall; all the Wookies were. Even taller than Jedi Skywalker, who was pretty tall.

“Chewie, this is Luke. He’s here to learn,” she explained vaguely. “And this is Barriss. We grew up together,” she said, giving Chewie a look. Luke knew this was her way of explaining that Barriss was also a former Jedi, without saying so outright. Being a former Jedi wasn’t bad, Luke knew, but there also weren’t a lot of them, so Barriss and Ahsoka tended not to mention it. Especially because Barriss had done bad things in the past as a Jedi.

Chewie roared something, motioning them forward. Ahsoka turned back to them to translate. “He says that first we will meet with the King and his council, and then we will be transported to the nearby village that was hit in the recent storm.”

Luke and Barriss followed Ahsoka, Chewie, and the other Wookies through the winding path of stairs and bridges that connected the giant wroshyr trees. It was beautiful, Luke thought, as long as you didn’t look down.

Barriss must have noticed him looking at the railing uncertainty because she grabbed his hand, shooting him a small smile. “Your mother will have my head if you fall out of one of these trees,” she told him quietly. Luke let her, even though he didn’t really think he needed his hand held now that he was eight. It was a long way down, and his mother would be extremely upset with Barriss and Ahsoka if he got hurt.

“Are you scared of my mother?” he asked her with a grin.

“Oh, absolutely,” she said with a solemn nod. “More than any Separatist or battle droid I’ve ever faced.”

His grin widened, and he held tightly to Barriss’ hand for the rest of the journey to one of the highest platforms in the capital city, where the King met with his council.

The King was even a bit taller and larger than the rest of the Wookies, dark, near black fur peppered with silver throughout. He sat in an innocuous looking chair at the head of the circular platform, and the three members of the council took their spot in chairs on either side of the King, with the other Wookies who’d accompanied them moving to stand next to those seated. That left just the four of them, Luke, Barriss, Ahsoka, and Threepio, standing facing the Wookies. Even though Luke knew that the Wookies were loyal members of the Republic, there was still something intimidating about the sight.

Luke remembered what Barriss told him earlier, and he reached out with the Force again. This time, he felt stronger emotions. Fear, worry, permeated the council.

The King began speaking in the growls of Shyriiwook, with Threepio translating.

“His Majesty, King Rrayyywk of Kashyyyk, welcomes the ambassadors from Naboo. He thanks Naboo for their aid, and for allowing his majesty to share his concerns. He says that their representative in the Senate has had a difficult time being heard these days.” That didn’t surprise Luke. While he didn’t sit in on as many Senate sessions as he used to, now that he was in school, he still did occasionally, and not many beings had their voices heard. It was usually just a lot of yelling.

“Your Majesty,” Ahsoka began, “We are happy to carry your concerns back to Senator Amidala, but to be honest, the Senate is very much at a standstill. With Chancellor Mothma and Vice Chancellor Dul being from opposing parties, it is hard to get anything onto the floor these days.”

King Rrayyywk growled mournfully. “His Majesty understands,” Threepio dutifully translated. “It is Vice Chancellor Dul that he is worried about,” and at this, the other Wookies made noises of agreement. “Him, and the other members of the First Order. It is no secret that the First Order has begun implementing anti-alien policies on several planets. Several close enough to make the Wookies nervous. They already have enough problems from Trandosha, without having to worry about Hapes, Valgauth, and Onderon as well.”

Luke sensed surprise from Ahsoka. “Onderon? King Dendup may have been neutral before the Clone Wars, but they’ve-”

King Rrayywk interrupted with a curt growl. “His majesty says that a single victory does not heal all wounds,” translated Threepio. “Onderon may have joined the Republic, but that does not mean it is a planet of one mind. The First Order has a presence there. It may be small, but that may not matter.”

“To be honest, I think you have a right to be worried, Your Majesty,” Barriss said, speaking up. “The First Order is stirring unrest in people’s hearts. Preying on the vulnerable state of the galaxy. I, more than most, know how easy it is to be swayed when you are already conflicted.”

“His Majesty asks what can be done? Is Senator Amidala working to fight the First Order? Are the Jedi?”

Ahsoka shot a quick glance at Barriss that Luke couldn’t decipher. “At the moment, there is nothing to fight. They’re just a political party, but-”

“King Rrayywk reminds you that the Sith were just a religion.”

“That’s not the same,” Ahsoka said quickly, shaking her head.

Luke shifted uncomfortably as some of the Wookies shook their heads and muttered. He didn’t know much about the First Order, but what he did know, he knew from his mother. It was strange to hear these Wookies, strong, proud, creatures, seem so afraid of anything.

Ahsoka seemed like she was going to continue, when Barriss stepped in again. “Senator Amidala shares your concerns. She has always fought for the equality of all beings, starting with the Gungans on her home planet, and has always been a voice for equality in the Senate.”

King Rrayywk sighed and growled out a response. “His Majesty thanks the office of Senator Amidala for listening to his concerns, and hopes that Senator Amidala will ally with alien species against the First Order, if the time should come.”

Ahsoka and Barriss bowed their heads in acknowledgement, and Luke did as well. Then, the Chieftain of the city, howled something at them, stepping forward, and directing them back the way they came. “Chieftain Varu asks that you follow him. He will take you to your transport.”

Anakin was just finishing a lightsaber class with Mara Jade’s clan Dalgo when Obi-Wan commed him and asked to meet. He knew Obi-Wan had just gotten back from Corellia- he had gone on a diplomatic mission to meet with Prime Minister Snoke- and had been debriefing with the council. He dismissed the younglings and hurried to Obi-Wan’s quarters, as Anakin sensed it was urgent.

Anakin found Obi-Wan seated in meditation on the floor of the very small living space in his quarters. “What’s so important that you comm me while I’m in class?” he demanded as he walked in. He wasn’t actually upset, more worried than anything. Obi-Wan wasn’t one to make a big deal out of nothing.

“Sit down,” he said curtly, turning to look at him, a frown etched onto his face. “I’ve just learned troubling news. It will be common knowledge soon enough.”

He complied, sitting next to him and assuming a meditation pose. He knew that, while meditation wasn’t his favorite thing, it helped Obi-Wan immensely, and he might as well go along with it.

“I’ve learned that Prime Minister Snoke has the Force. That he uses the dark side.”

Anakin jolted. “What? Another Sith? How can this be?”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “He claims not to be a Sith. And in the loosest sense, that seems to be true. It seems that this Snoke was an acolyte, of sorts, of Sidious, back when Sidious was just a Sith apprentice himself. Snoke told me that while Sidious taught him how to use the dark side, he never taught him the ways of the Sith.”

Anakin looked at Obi-Wan incredulously. “He told you this?”

“Oh, yes,” Obi-Wan sighed. “He was quite eager to tell me all about himself. Gleeful, even. He knows that we can’t touch him.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, he hasn’t done anything illegal!” Obi-Wan exclaimed in frustration. “As far as we can tell, he had no association with the Separatists. He was a private citizen before running for office. His ship building corporation builds private vessels, not warcraft, so he never had contracts with either side. He’s never done anything illegal, hasn’t been implicated in any crimes, doesn’t carry a lightsaber, and ended his association with Sidious before his illegal activity began. He simply hasn’t violated Republic law.” He shook his head, glancing down at the floor.

Anakin heard the defeat in Obi-Wan’s voice, and felt his own heart begin to race, fear creeping into his veins. “That’s not possible. I restored balance to the Force. It’s-it’s only been eight years.” He shook his head, unsure of what to say. He didn’t know how to put into words the combination of fear and frustration that flooded him.

Obi-Wan looked up at that, and put a hand on Anakin’s shoulder. “You did restore balance. You destroyed the Sith. One man with a few years of bare bones instruction into the dark side is not the same thing.”

Anakin shook his head. “I didn’t want my children to have to worry about this like I did. A mysterious dark sider pulling strings in the galaxy.”

He thought of what Qui-Gon’s ghost had told him all those years ago, on Naboo. He’d never told Obi-Wan about that. He’d never told anyone about that. According to Qui-Gon, he hadn’t restored balance. Not yet. He’d said there was more to do. On Mortis, it had all been very literal, controlling the Brother and the Sister at once, holding them in balance. But in the real world, he didn’t know.

“Maybe there’s more to bringing balance to the Force than just destroying the Sith,” Anakin mused aloud.

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “More? And what might that ‘more’ be?”

Anakin shot him a grin. “I don’t know, Master. I suppose we’ll have to figure that out.”

#love does not fail #star wars fic #anidala fic #skywalker family #my fic #star wars #sw #anidala #alternate chapter summary: Luke's lesbian aunts take him on a vacation #also if any of the snoke stuff is confusing pls pls go and read #my super duper end of chapter notes on ao3 #i explain it in detail there

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thejudgingtrash · 4 years ago

Text

[ID: A dark camping side with a fire pit in the foreground. A white frame highlights the logs and the fire. Orange sparks ascend into the sky. Underneath the white frame stands the title ‘A Warm Place at the Fire’. End of ID.]

As promised, @goldendaysareahead a little fanfic about my Camp Hestia AU!

I hope you enjoy it and thank you for @the-real-annabeth-chase for being yet again an amazing beta!

A Warm Place at the Fire (3,8k)

“There! We’ve almost made it!” yelled Bode. His hooves would have brought him much faster near his goal if it weren’t for the mortal legs next to him that trampled to keep up with his speed. Thunder crackled in the distance which made Bode’s brown skin glow in an unusual pale blue.

The satyr looked over his shoulder. His enhanced hearing made him filter out the noise much better. It also helped him focus on the danger behind him. The growls, the hissing and the mass that the animal carried as it surged ahead to kill its prey. “Don’t look behind you!” panted Bode as his friend was about to turn his head.

“Are you kidding me?” coughed the young boy. His legs were burning, and his lungs felt like they were set on fire. “Look who’s talking!”

“Parker, now’s not the time!”

Thunder.

Everything today fell apart. Everything today was nothing but a major disaster. Everything… was simply strange. Parker was used to strange things. He had a vivid fantasy as a kid and always talked about the plants singing for him before he started elementary school. But today really took the cake.

It started with Parker failing three reports at school and slowly peaked to Parker’s father getting robbed in his shop, to said father calling Bode to tell him to put Parker far away in a summer camp for gifted kids out of all places and now after running through the busy streets of New York City, a hell of a ride in a taxi cab that three blind ladies who fought over one single eyeball drove, some weird animal hybrid had sensed them and decided to hunt them the minute they arrived in Long Island.

Oh, and Bode Underwood, Parker’s newfound best friend and neighbor who had just transferred to his middle school, was apparently a satyr with the hairiest goat legs Parker had ever seen and he even had tiny horns hidden in his tight black curls.

The earth shook. It was an earthquake. It had to be an earthquake. But the way the ruptures of the earth had shifted it was clear that it could not be an earthquake. The massive body of an animal still wanted its prey. Tearing two children apart was what he desired.

“There! We’ve almost made it, hold on, Parker!” hissed Bode.

Parker was trying to not land on his face as the path became muddier. It had rained the previous days in New York. “Look! The sign!”

Parker’s eyes followed Bode’s arm. It was true. Deep into the forest there was an archway. It was made out of marble and a wooden sign said New Athens. Behind the archway were… buildings? Houses? Didn’t Parker’s dad tell him that he would be brought into a summer camp? As the two boys came closer Parker could even read the small insignia underneath: formerly known as Camp Half-Blood.

A roar made both nearly jump. The animal. The monster. It also hissed?

Parker jumped over a fallen tree branch and Bode bleated. Oh, he’s really a goat, Parker thought.

A roar. Parker felt the heat in his back. Was he imagining acid tearing his jeans jacket apart or was it truly happening? He had no time to care about it.

The two boys nearly reached the archway. “JUMP!” yelled Bode and Parker did. The both of them slid through the archway and were greeted with silence. Parker vowed to himself to never slide on mud again. The taste of grass and dirt was truly displeasing. No wind was howling and only the echoing songs of the cicadas kept them company.

This so-called camp looked strange. It was a clash of cultures. It was a fight between new and old. To Parkers right it did look like the old grounds of a camp. They looked like they had sporting events, a dinner area and a large area for all kinds of other activities. It would have been fairly normal if it weren’t for deadly ancient weapons lying around in front of a cabin and the dozens of cabins themselves. Each cabin had a different character to it as if they were dedicated to someone. They radiated a strange force. Parker instinctively knew that it was old and ancient, that it was powerful.

The left of the campgrounds were the polar opposite. It wasn’t just buildings and houses. It was an entire city. It was a huge construction side with many finished and unfinished buildings. A city so big yet so hidden deep in the woods of Long Island. The architecture was astounding, and the design was precise and heavily inspired by the world of Ancient Greece.

Was that a CVS out of all things placed into something that looked like the pantheon? And it had a Trader Joe’s next to it in something that looked like another temple? An entire Ancient Greek Taco Bell with a crunch wrap supreme advertisement that had a lightning bolt pressed into its side?! And in the middle of the city was an old market place like in Hollywood movies?

What’s going on? asked Parker himself.

A big blue house seemed to draw the line between old and new. The old ways and the new life. The yesterday and the new beginning at dawn. The old life that Parker had and the new one that rose like a phoenix from its ashes.

Yes, Bode and he made it. The boys had truly made it. They were alive and safe! For now. They gave each other a high five as they rested on the ground and thanked the shining stars above them for their guidance.

A clash disrupted their celebratory mood. The beast. Parker finally saw it in its entire glory. The head of a lion. The back of a reptile? Was that a dragon? And its tale was a snake out of all things?

Fearsome snarls and growls were drowned out behind the invisible layer that prevented the beast from entering campgrounds. The piercing yellow eyes shifted and tried to find the mortal flesh it desired only to be disappointed. The barrier was too strong to be penetrated. The massive beast turned around and was lost from Parker’s sight as it became one with the forest’s darkness. Parker’s adrenaline rush slowly faded away and his heart rate returned to normal.

What he felt rushing over him was a wave of fatigue. He felt the aching pain of his burning lungs that demanded more oxygen, the pain in his bones and muscles that wanted some rest. The young boy sank into the soft grass and wiped the sweat from his forehead. Bode only patted his shoulder as he sat down next to him. The satyr was tired but not as exhausted as the camp’s newest family member.

“You’ve made it,” Bode whispered.

“You’ve made it here, safely! Everything will be alright once the moon chariot sets and the one of the sun rises, we’ll take the entire day to truly process what happens and make a plan about what your father had said, alright?” Parker was too tired to realize the true meanings behind Bode’s words. He only mumbled a “yeah,” and tried to breathe with a steady rhythm.

“Hey Parker,” Bode started, “You just survived the chimera which is something I’m incredibly thankful as that beast has killed other kids prior.”

Chimera? For some odd reason that weird Hercules movie from Disney came to Parker’s mind. “It did what now?”

Bode raised his hands in defense. “Woah hold your horses! No one was seriously injured – this time.” he said.

“What’s important is that you’ll catch your breath and meet the new camp director. Right there at the fireplace.” Bode pointed into the distance and Parker’s gaze followed. “I know all of this is new and weird to you, especially since this place isn’t the most organized, but trust me.”

It was true what Bode said. The juxtaposition between the two worlds that clashed at Camp Half-Blood were simply weird to Parker’s unaccustomed eyes. But there! At the old camp site, right at the edge of old and new, there she was. A woman poking a log with what looked like a golden hook. She wore a brown gown and held a hand to the flames. The flames rose and Parker was worried that the strange lady might have singed her eyebrows accidentally. But no. It was the opposite. It was as if the fire were dancing for her. As if it’s flaring was a beautiful melody for her eyes and only her eyes.

The orange and yellow and golden streaks of the flames were hypnotizing. Parker didn’t even realize how he was already standing up on his two feet and walking towards the pit. Bode followed him. The pit looked small in the distance but only enlarged close up. Parker didn’t feel fear – it was the polar opposite. He felt as calm as he had never been before. The young boy stopped.

“Parker Mbata,” the woman smiled and turned her head to him. The reflection of the flames danced in her eyes and Parker knew that the orange highlighted his beautiful black skin. Beautiful dark skin that she had as well.

“How do you know my name?” he asked her and raised an eyebrow. His voice cracked; he didn’t want to appear impolite as that was what most people thought wrongfully about him. The woman only smiled and pointed to a seat next to her. She was middle-aged and her black braids would probably reach her knees if she had been standing upright. She was pretty. A round face that loved to smile. It wasn’t the movie star look, but she had the calm and grace of someone who had seen much of the world and was able to see the wonderful side of things.

For Parker, she had the aura of a friendly aunt that would help out with homework, try to play on a console with you and would bake here and there from time to time with you. Rib crushing hugs, hands that drove through hair, a pat on the shoulder that said: “No matter how far you’ll go, remember that I’ll always be proud of you.”

If it hadn’t been merely the surface level of her being. She was no ordinary woman like his math teacher – of that Parker was certain. Her eyes. The gleam of the orange nourished her skin and highlighted her beauty. The warmth in her eyes radiated the power of a thousand hugs.

She reeked of power that should never be underestimated.

“I know the names of all new campers,” she simply answered with an honest smile on her face.

“Thank you, Bode.” The woman said and shifted her gaze to the young satyr next to him. Parker could have sworn that he saw his best friend blush at the compliment. That or it was a simple illusion from the fire. “You may now go to your parents’ house. I’m sure Juniper is still waiting on the porch, and Grover will be over the moon with your first search that was a successful one at that.”

The corner of Bode’s mouth threatened to tear his face apart from grinning so big. “See you tomorrow, Parker!” he said before he bowed to the weird lady.

Parker waved goodbye and saw how lights of lanterns turned on in the modern part of the camp as Bode crossed the streets. They turned off again automatically as he turned to the left.

“You may call me Hestia. I’m the new camp director of Camp Half-Blood.”

“Hestia,” Parker repeated, and he saw how she nodded.

“This is a camp for very special people,” Hestia continued and poked the fire. A flame erupted and rose to the sky. “You are safe in here. No monsters or other meddlers will interfere within camp boarders or in the wider city of New Athens. You will train like other half-bloods, find your strength and weaknesses so that you may survive into adulthood and now how to protect yourself and those that you love.”

Half-blood? Monsters? Survive into adulthood? The questions stood bright on Parker’s face as his dark brown eyes widened.

Hestia laughed and patted his back. The warm feeling of being comforted flooded Parker’s body.

“You look an awful lot like my sister,” Hestia said after a few seconds of comfortable silence.

“People just say that I look like my dad only with a better fade on the sides of my head,” Parker denied. “Also, how can I look like your sister?”

Hestia grinned yet again and shook her head. The golden jewelry on her braids clanged. “That is not what I mean, Parker,” Hestia stated.

“Her personality. Her abilities. Her capabilities. All of that and more I see in you. After all, she is your mother.”

Parker’s jaw dropped. Hestia was actually his aunt? She knew his mother? How?! His father had always told him that his mother was a busy person and big in the botanic scene, chasing new discovery after new discovery and that that was the reason why she was never around. Also, Parker had the suspicion that she had fled the country so that she didn’t have to pay child support.

“But I see more in you. Further down your line.” Hestia placed her index finger underneath his chin and lifted it up slightly.

“I can see Morpheus as your great-grandfather. I can see Hermes even further down there.”

“Hermes like the Greek god?”

“Yes, my nephew is a funny albeit sometimes exhausting one.”

“So you want to say that I’m a descendant of Greek gods?”

Hestia nodded. “That I do.”

Parker coughed. Hestia was worried. She waved her hand in the air and Parker had to suppress the scream that was bubbling inside of him as a bottle with a clear liquid appeared. Now he definitely believed her. It wasn’t for the fact that a terrible monster had hunted him for nearly two hours earlier.

“Here drink this slowly. Do not haste, I’d rather not clean up the burnt remains of my newest nephew,” she winked. Parker took the bottle and a first sip.

“Nectar. The drink of the gods. It heals you demigods but too much and it’ll set you on fire.”

The drink tasted like good times. Like the fondest memories that had been deeply buried inside of Parker. The fudgy chocolate brownies with a hint of peanut butter that his father used to make for him whenever he had a good mood. And now his father had sent him away.

The disappointment hit Parker harder than the strenuous activity that had been fleeing the chimera earlier. Hestia sensed his mood and decided to distract him.

“Normally I start camp tours and initiations in the mornings, but I see that I should start out early. You aren’t the only new camper but who would mind a little head start?”, she winked again. “Let me do it differently as well. We used to show a terrible introduction movie around to introduce you into the new world but the reception has been mostly negative.”

Okay thought Parker and nodded slowly.

“How do you feel about your classmates? The Jackson twins?”

Parker narrowed his eyebrows. The twins were weird in a way that most twins were. They were definitely the sort of twins that could read each other’s minds and answer for one another if it weren’t for the fact that they seemed to annoy each other. Apart from that, they were also very friendly and sat down at lunch with him at school despite their constant bickering going on Parker’s nerves.

Ari was the more out-going and bold one and her twin Theo was quieter and more reserved. And he wore glasses that he always readjusted. Parker was definitely not fond of him. No, he was absolutely not. And the swoon in the pit of his stomach that he felt was something he would ignore for the time being.

The more important question: what did the twins have to do with all of this? Hestia grinned as if she had read all of his thoughts and emotions. “As much as I adore Ariadne and Theodoros, we need to begin a generation earlier with their parents. I have much to thank them for.”

Hestia’s immortal memory brought her pictures back that happened decades ago. As her brother threatened to smite Perseus Jackson for daring to stand up to him and ask him for another wish instead of the gift of immortality.

“From now on, I want you to properly recognize the children of the gods. All the children . . . of all the gods,” young Perseus Jackson wished. “I want you to promise to claim your children—all your demigod children—by the time they turn thirteen. They won't be left out in the world on their own at the mercy of monsters. I want them claimed and brought to camp so they can be trained right and survive.”

Oh, how her youngest brother had been furious. “And the minor gods,” Perseus exclaimed. “Nemesis, Hecate, Morpheus, Janus, Hebe—they all deserve a general amnesty and a place at Camp Half-Blood. Their children shouldn't be ignored. Calypso and the other peaceful Titan-kind should be pardoned too. And Hades as well. As for Hestia and him, I have another wish for them. Give them their seats in the Olympian council back.”

That demand made the eyebrows of Poseidon and Athena rise as Zeus’ mouth grew into an even thinner line.

And then Perseus Jackson had turned around to her and had given her the biggest gift she had ever received in her immortal life. “And aunt Hestia, you are the heart and soul of Mount Olympus. You are the guidance and comfort we seek, the hope that remains in our very core. With your permission—the permission from all gods—I’d ask Hestia if she would like to lead Camp Half-Blood as a new co-camp director alongside Chiron and Dionysus until he is done with his punishment?”

Then Hestia did only two things. Hug the savior of Olympus and accept his gracious gift to her as Zeus was legally bound to make his nephews wishes come true.

“Mr. Jackson did all of these things when he was a teenager? With his—uhhh—future wife? And Bode’s dad?” The tales of him having that much influence seemed too great and big and so… unrealistic? Parker couldn’t believe that Percy Jackson was that sort of man. He was a pastry baker and started crying whenever his wife butchered the name of one of his fancy creations according to Ari. That and he was supposedly very busy with his bakery Blue Jackson’s in Downtown Manhattan and another subsidiary in Los Angeles. And that person persuaded Olympian gods as a teenager? Saved the world as a child?

“I mean Mr. Jackson is just a baker,” Parker shrugged. “And Mrs. Chase is this crazy busy architect that also plays mom taxi somehow and drives her kids around while she’s running from meeting to meeting?” At least that was what Theo had texted him ages ago.

Hestia pointed to the beautiful city of New Athens. Not the majestic buildings that stood proudly there surrounding the market place but beyond that where the façade began to crack as the largest construction side he had ever seen. “Yes, Annabeth is incredibly busy with her occupation. As it was she that bore the grounds of New Athens as a safe haven for your kind. Do you see that house on the hill?”

It was pompous, enormous and combined the modern and ancient style beautifully. A light on the second floor was on. “The residence of the Jackson-Chase’s.”

Parker’s jaw dropped. These people must have been filthy rich. No wonder that Mr. Jackson ordered flower arrangements on the regular from his dad. Those pieces were expensive. Parker’s eyes shifted slightly to the left. A few feet away was a Blue Jackson’s bakery right next to the house. Easy commute for Mr. Jackson.

“The illuminated room is Annabeth’s office. It seems like she is still working on her designs.”

The light was suddenly switched off. “Oh!” Hestia sounded surprised. “It looks like Perseus was for once successful in telling his wife she ought to sleep. Oh well.”

Parker snickered.

“After all it is way past two in the morning. You should also rest so soon.”

But Parker didn’t want to. He was wrapped up in the tales that Hestia told him. The middle schooler reassured Hestia that he was yet not entirely worn out. The goddess sighed like a tired mother.

“And it was she, Annabeth, that restored the honor of the gods and built a cabin for every one of us gods—even the ones without half-bloods—so that we have places for our children, visitors and prayers. Until you are claimed, you will stay at Cabin Zero—my cabin,” Hestia smiled.

“We all start at Zero. We all start from nothing only to learn and to grow into something. You will find new friends, a new life, a new home. Just like your parents intended and. I am sure that Mr. Mbata will arrive soon safely at camp. I have given him instructions to hide in a secret place due to the monsters starting to sense you.”

That made Parker smile and relief spread throughout him. He would be reunited with his father very soon.

“You remind me very much of Perseus Jackson, Parker Mbata. Since the introduction movie left a sour taste in many campers and inhabitants of New Athens and you do not appear to be so sleepy, let me retell the tale of Perseus Jackson from the beginning. The most famous demigod of them all. Greater than any other hero the Greek pantheon had ever seen.”

The flames seemed to dance around goddess and demigod. “He was just like you. Small, a little bit on the scrawny side…”

Parker frowned a little bit, but Hestia giggled at her backhanded compliment.

“A half-blood. A child of man and god… Perseus gets quite frequently asked to retell his story. At first, he did so begrudgingly. He wrote his memories down. For his and anyone else’s sake. Had an entire folder with papers in his hand as he sat down. But now he grew confident and into an incredible speaker. He speaks from his heart and not from paper.”

Hestia inhaled sharply. The eldest child of Kronos turned her face to the red of the flames to recount the events that happened nearly twenty years ago.

“Perseus always starts his stories with ‘look, I didn’t want to be a half-blood’…”

The End

I’m not really an OC person but I hope you enjoyed this little thought experiment regardless ;>

If anyone is interested in my other fanfics, I can offer you How Could You (Percabeth, sad, finished) and The Fool (Percabeth, mystery, on-going) :3

#pjo #Percy Jackson #percy jackson fanfiction #camp half blood #chb #hestia #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo fanfic #mel writes #demigods of color

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llendrinall · 4 years ago

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So i got another fic idea in my head The dates are very important. 1 (May 1998) Percy was a Ministry spy and he worked closely with Albus. He saved a lot of lives no matter their blood or if they were creatures. And at the battle of Hogwarts he saves Freds life but hes in crit condition George is a total ass (He's angry and takes it out on Percy) going off at him saying nasty things along the lines of that Percy isn't welcome at the Weasley home anymore.

2 When he tries to go to the House to talk to them he's not treated very well ("Dont wanna hear excuses Percy"). He just give up, packs his things in his flat, & the next morning he goes, gives his mission reports that date from the start of his Ministry career along with his resignation letter on Shacklebot's desk. Then he's off to America to start over he snuck into Freds hospital room & used Snapes healing charms as a way to 'set things right' before leaving.

3. Percy is now in New York, gets a job, and then spends the next 6 months working diligently and whatnot. Then he meets Audrey Smith, they end up going on a few dates and she introduces Percy to her local gym and they become gym buddies and soon start dating. (Aug 2000) After 2 years together (They're married) Percy and Audrey find out they're expecting. And then the twins are born on the 2nd of May 2001. Percy laughs a bit as Audrey pats him the shoulder and says "They sure chose the date"

4. Sep 11 2001) Audrey dies in the 9/11 attack (she was a muggle) & Percy is left a widow with 2 daughters to look after. (June 2002) He bumps into Oliver who's on a quidditch training exchange. They catch up. (Oliver doesn't bring up the fact that Percy's fam has been looking for him for years and that he's saved so many lives) As December rolls around Oliver spends it at Percy's, meeting the kids and hearing Percy tell him everything (His wife, his family and the war)

(I think this is part 5? Idk its 2am here) (Jan - May) They spend a lot of time together after Xmas and slowly Percy begins to heal a bit more after Audrey's death. Oliver ends up going back to the UK and Percy misses him. (July) Oliver comes back with news that he's transferred to an NY team "They might not be big on Quidditch here but they're extremely good, Perce" (Its not because Oliver has been inlove with Percy since Hogwarts. Neither is it because he loves Molly & Lucy to death either)

6 (Feb 2004) The UK Papers get a picture of Oliver, Percy the twins out and it BLOWS UP. Charlie (The only one who even heard Percy out back after the war ended, He knows the others did wrong by him) floos in and then warns Percy about everyone knowing he's here and that they're gonna be coming in 2 days. So He ends up having Charlie take the girls. He ends up meeting with his fam and it takes a long long time for them to heal and fix things.

7. His Fam only get to meet Molly and Lucy when they're 6. When they're 7 he and Oliver gets married. Idk why but i seem to only send you these fic ideas when im hella tired and at 2am. T_T Why am i like this? So Audrey named Molly and Perce named Lucy (After each others moms)

Honestly, What can I say at this point? You have the whole story thought out. Go for it and write it!

It’s not the kind of story I write, though. But since you dropped the materials here, I can share how I would assemble it.

I would avoid New York. Big cities have a character. They are characters and you have to treat them as such. In Life skills, London is a character, complex and big and hard and beautiful. In Secret language of plants, even though Draco and Harry end up in London, I had them stay in the house because London was too big of a character for that stage of the story.

So, no New York. If I had to use a well-known city I would go with Boston, I think. Otherwise, a small one with a nice name.

Audrey doesn’t die on 9/11. Well, she dies on that day, but not on the attack. It’s something as simple and dull as a traffic accident. Percy wasn’t with her, not that it would have mattered. Yes, wizards have potions to mend bones instantly and protective charms and spells to stop the momentum, but Audrey died instantly, and no one could have seen the car until it was on her.

The driver was an old man, fumbling with that new invention, a mobile phone, trying to call his daughter who worked in New York.

Magic Law on the States is a bit… over the place. It would be extremely simple to put a curse or a hex that man. If Percy was clever about it, it wouldn’t be too illegal. But he doesn’t. Percy realizes it wouldn’t make him feel better.

Percy doesn’t particularly like the States. The tea is terrible, the coffee is weak, the spelling is painful and people are entirely too talkative. But it’s sunnier than England and the orange juice is good, so he stays.

He goes to Romania every summer to visit Charlie. The girls love it there and it was always easy to talk to Charlie. Charlie who had such a promising career in Quidditch and rejected the fame and fortune for a thankless career working with dragons. Not even training dragons for bank security, which is a cool and profitable career, but fighting that very same use.

Charlie only goes back home for a week during Christmas, so he gets it. They don’t have to talk about it, never mention that weird state of loving your family and not wanting to be with them, to fight, to have to explain and justify your very existence and your life decisions.

He meets Oliver in Romania. Supposedly Oliver is there to see the sights and rest his left shoulder, that was injured at the end of the league. But he is not the first Quidditch player who has a crisis of faith and comes to Charlie with questions. So far, none of them had taken up dragon-protection, but one became a broomstick racer and another is the head coach of an Italian team.

Charlie only thinks about dragons. Oliver only thinks about Quidditch and is in the middle of an existential crisis. So it’s perfectible understandable that the topic of Percy, his war heroics and his semi mythical status is never brought up. To be fair, Charlie doesn’t know much about it because he doesn’t read English newspapers and his family never talks about Percy when he is around. Oliver just thinks that Percy is the first Competent Adult he has ever met and is much more interested about this Figuring Life Out than any hero status.

So it’s fair to say that the headlines come as a surprise.

Someone snapped a picture of Oliver and Percy sitting very close together in a park, with twin stupid loving smiles. It was all perfectly innocent. Molly was doing something cute out of frame and they never kept any physical distance between themselves, not even in Hogwarts. But it doesn’t matter. The picture is sold as proof of the mysterious war hero and the dashing sport star carrying a secret love affair. It’s a beautiful story, powerful. Percy is the tragic handsome hero and Oliver the right person to bring love back in his life after years nursing the wounds of war. Or perhaps Oliver is the sweet and honest good boy, the boyfriend every mother wants for her daughter, seduced by the man living a life of exotic and daring adventures.

Whatever it is, the world wants to believe in it. So much so that bloody Draco Malfoy pops up to warn them that there is a dozen of rabid, ruthless, paparazzies coming their way. He knows because Malfoy owns the most read magazine in England and has put a bounty on a photo of the two of them kissing.

Paparazzies don’t have a concept of trespassing, but breaking and entering into a dragon reserve has certain difficulties that can’t be bypassed with an alohomora and a lack of morals. Percy and Oliver spend the rest of the month in the reserve, not daring to go out. Twenty-two days in each other’s company, hiking in the mountains and playing with the girls. Molly and Lucy have decided that Oliver is similar to Charlie in all the right ways, so they like him.

On day nineteen, they kiss. Someone gets a picture of it, but, in his excitement, the photographer wanders into a nest of young dragon carps. He is recued three hours later sans pants or shoes. The photo of their first kiss is lost.

Oliver says he is almost done with his existential crisis but now Percy has one of his own.

You see, there is something Oliver hasn’t said. Something he didn’t mention at all. And Percy doesn’t know if Oliver just hasn’t noticed (it took him two years to realize all the Weasleys were siblings) or if he noticed but… doesn’t care?

There is more than one reason why only Charlie has met the girls.

Even now that Percy has received letters from every family member (including Freaking Aunt Muriel) and even a surprise visit from them (he has a life debt with Charlie for the heads-up) and they have begun the unpleasant work of fixing their relationship; even now, they haven’t met Molly and Lucy.

It’s because of the Weasley cousin they never talk about. The accountant.

Percy knows that it’s perfectly normal. Many wizarding children don’t exhibit any magic until they are at least seven. But he also knows that every single person in his family was levitating toys (Bill, Ron and Ginny) or stopping spilled milk in mid-air (him) or shooting sparks (Charlie and the twins) by the time they were three.

Molly and Lucy had done nothing magical so far. Nothing at all. And Percy knows, in his heart of hearts, that if anyone makes them feel inferior, if anyone dares to say anything against them, he will go the Dark Lord route and kill every single person prejudiced against squibs. He might kill every single wizard and witch and eradicate all magic, so his girls won’t feel inferior to anyone. He found in himself the strength to forgive the man than took Audrey’s life, but he won’t do the same for the person who speaks against his children. He can’t.

On Christmas Percy reluctantly agrees to go to England with the girls because Charlie promises he will be there too. It is not easy. It is, in fact, very, very difficult and tense. He is forever grateful at Lee Jordan, who is glued to Fred’s hip cracking jokes and defusing tension. Also, Angelina Johnson takes George and Ginny to the kitchen and informs them they are the biggest idiots she has ever had the misfortune of meeting and that helps to avoid anyone saying something unforgivable they will regret their whole life. On Christmas’ Eve Harry Potter takes everyone’s wands because he is Harry Potter “and I do what I want” which means no one hexes anyone and they can overindulge the punch.

Oh, why bother? The whole thing is terrible and awkward and it hurts. But it is a necessary painful step, either to fix things with time or to say that he tried, actually tried, and never look back at this moment with regret.

Also, he gets to meet with Oliver. It turns out that Oliver hadn’t noticed the girls’ lack of magic, but he also doesn’t care. Why would he care? Are you- are you supposed to care? Is this another thing Oliver missed because he only thinks about Quidditch? What’s wrong with not having magic in any case? Oliver’s mother is muggle and it is agreed that she is wonderful.

(Even Potter says so. Percy has no idea of when Harry Potter met Oliver’s mum, but he speaks of her in the highest terms).

You can read about what happened next on issues of 32, 33 & 34 of Alakazam as well as special issues 17, 21, 22 and 25. Draco Malfoy earns 1.5 million galleons with issue 33, setting a record for most successful print in wizarding history. Then he obliterates that record with a single stolen picture of Percy and Oliver’s wedding. He committed around a dozen crimes to get that picture, got drunk on champagne and victory and asked Harry Potter to marry him.

(He also donated all the money to a newly created society for the support and trade education of squibs, but only two people in the world know that).

#asks #percy weasley #oliver wood #Anonymous #vese: dad percy

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mwolf0epsilon · 4 years ago

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Maybe a story about Norman being a good parent?

Summary: Mindless beast or not, the Projectionist was a Polk, and the Polks did not hurt their young, or whatever they perceived as such.

You all knew it was coming inevitably...

---

[[MORE]]

Norman's and Margarite's marriage had come as a surprise to the entire Polk family. A simple signature on a piece of paper, and a pair of battered rings that had belonged to Nanna and Poppop Polk (gifted to him by the former who always knew he'd be a better fit for them). No fanciful ceremony with pretty dresses or suits, expensive cakes and extensive guest list.

A disappointing waste, his mama had proclaimed over the letter she'd sent as a reply to his own that detailed his status as a married man in a far off city. She'd wanted to witness the event, shed her motherly tears as one of her little ducklings became a real man ready to start a family.

But, to Norman and Maggie, the marriage wasn't a motive of celebration like his mama thought. It was insurance against further discrimination towards them. They were, after all, the black couple that lived in a quaint apartment in New York city.

Already that was a challenge of its own, as said apartment was populated primarily by white hot-blooded tenants, with only one more laying vacant for a (hopefully) friendlier family.

Their downstairs neighbor clearly hated them from sight alone, and the others were unsure how the new additions fit into their "perfect" lives in the Big Apple. If any of them were to discover that they both enjoyed the full spectrum of the gender binary, well... Accidents happened in the big city. Accidents that targeted specific minorities for some "unfathomable" reason.

So yes, as shameful as it may be, their wedding was strictly business. Rings for show, public displays of affection to dispell the gossip, and overall just the usual married life arguments in the grocery store to sell the deal (neither of them could care less about which type of sugar made the best apple pie crust, or what brand of soap was better, but it sure made the couples they passed by smile knowingly at the common domestic disputes). There was just one thing left to do to really make a statement on their relationship status.

"Three of my coworkers are getting maternity leave. It's been a few months, I think it's time."

Children were a sensitive topic. Both Norman and Maggie wanted kids, had a vague idea of how many they planned to raise, and were quite certain they'd make beautiful and healthy younglings with one another. The question was: Was it fair to bring in chidren into a farce of a matrimony? What if one day they found their actual ideal partner?

"Yous better be sure it's the right time darlin'..." He'd urged her to think more on the subject. "Don't want to rush things like that now, do we?"

"I'm ready." She'd stared him in the eye with a certainty and confidence he couldn't begin to imagine. He knew she was, but was he? Was he truly ready to bare such a responsibility?

That night he relented to her wishes and they had finally consummated their marriage. Nine months later, little Nancy was born a small but relatively healthy baby. Upon seeing his firstborn for the first time ever, and then holding her gently in hands that dwarfed her little head greatly, Norman immediately understood he was ready to be a parent. And a loving one at that.

In total, Norman and Maggie had five children. Three boys and two girls. Nancy was their eldest child and the more levelheaded of the bunch. The apple of her mother's eye, and her father's baby girl, she was the perfect balance of their greatest qualities and teachings. A clever and determined young girl with big aspirations for her future. She wanted to be a doctor.

Aaron was the second eldest child and the one most like his father. Clever and with an eye for detail, enough so that he had taken up an interest that fits his perceptive nature: Photography. The walls of the Polk household were filled with his works, at first done with Norman's own old and battered camera, until he'd bought the young lad his very own fancy new model.

Louise was the middle child, and the troublemaker of the bunch. She was a bit of a tomboy, and liked to scrap with the boys in her class, to the point where it wasn't uncommon to see her with several bruises and band-aids, and haphazardly taped wireframed glasses. She kept both Norman and Maggie on their toes.

Albert was the second youngest and the quietest. A little bookworm that appreciated the art of literature over anything else. He wanted to be a novelist, even at a very young age, and often shared ideas for stories at the dinner table. There was no doubt in Norman's heart that his little boy would write a best-seller one day. Maggie fretted for his social life, however, as he was the least sociable of their children. Far too shy.

Finally the youngest child was Willard. An outspoken young toddler that was definitely as confident as his mama. A little tot with a very big personality indeed, that Norman couldn't wait to see grow up into yet another fine young boy. If any of their children was to ever get what he wanted in life, it'd definitely be Will.

Truly there was nothing in this world that Norman loved more than his offsprings, and indulging in their interests was always an adventure. One to be shared with three other members of the family.

The vacant apartment had been occupied by Norman's younger brother, Alfred, and his own two children. By then almost all their neighbors (minus the one that hated them from day one) had warmed up to them. So another set of friendly faces was a good addition to their home life.

Norman absolutely loved watching over his nephew and niece, especially because his children were delighted to have other kids around their age to play with.

It reminded him of being back home in Louisiana, his own brothers and sisters sparring with him and playing whatever games they could come up with on the spot. Watching Louise and Nelson tumbling about fighting as equally dirty as the other, really stirred up some good memories he had of his older sisters.

"Bite her Nelson! Bite her!" Lydia cheered as her older brother pinned their cousin to the ground.

"Louise tug on his ears! Pummel him!" Aaron called out to his little sister, encouraging her to fend off her opponent.

"Lydia and Aaron! What I tell y'all 'bout encouragin' yous's siblings t'fight all nasty?!"

"Not to...?"

"Exactly."

Granted some play-fighting needed to be monitored when most of the audience were enablers, and neither his middle child nor his nephew had any qualms sending each other to the hospital. They were still learning about consequences after all.

Still, there wasn't anything else in the world that built better character than teaching the children that they were equals to one another in all their shared activities. Respect was an important lesson to be learned. One Norman wished every parent taught their child.

The world would be a better place otherwise...

Sometimes the Projectionist would inevitably be unable to fend off sleep. The exhaustion would wear it down and give way to the nightmares of a life it could barely remember. Then it would wake up and scream, trying to rid itself of heinous visions of itself ripping its offsprings apart.

Norman Polk would reawaken inside its brutish body and lash out, hoping to either physically fight away his own broken psyche or perhaps cripple the Projectionist so that it could never fulfil these dreamt up acts of violence.

A Polk was all about family, and the thought of becoming the sort to bring harm upon his own children... Well, Norman had heard the stories. Knew why Poppop was such a taboo topic. He did not want to be the man besides his Nanna in the portrait above the fireplace... One he'd resembled if his eye wasn't wrong and he'd grown out his beard...

The Projectionist didn't have the mental faculties to understand this distress however, but it seemed to recognize that what it saw in dreams was bad. That what it did to the vermin, it should never do to those innocent little youngsters that looked at it with love instead of fear and hatred. So... Why did it do it in dreams? Why did it kill when it wanted to be docile? The children were not a threat, so why...?

It made no sense... But it didn't much care for elaborate existential crisis like that. Norman's consciousness would freak it out, but ultimately loosened its grip and go back to being dormant. The lumbering beast resuming its tiring trek through the endless maze. A cycle that would repeat itself the next time it fell asleep.

It was in the aftermath of yet another nightmare that the Projectionist came across something completely new to it. Something small and living, and very much intruding on its space. Something that very vaguely looked like it...

A living being with a body similar to the ones the horrible botched critters that ran around in packs had, yet with no visible imperfections to it. Its head though... It was kind of like a projector, but not. Square in shape, with a lens, a tube, dial and something very round that kind of looked like a big ear. A camera, like the one Aaron had gotten for his birthday.

It seemed to have gloves, shoes and a belt that sort of looked like the speaker lodged in the Projectionist's torso, but it was hard to tell since the strange being was on the ground flailing about like a dying fish.

The towering amalgam stared at the tiny new thing in dumbfounded silence, unsure how to react to such a strange discovery, until it realized why the thing was flailing about to begin with.

One of its legs was pinned under a crate that appeared to have fallen from a nearby stack, and the Projectionist could tell the limb was broken. Nearby lay a series of Ink Hearts that had been resting on the fallen crate.

On any other occasion it would have simply walked over, raised one heavy foot, and crushed the intruder's skull for daring to try to steal from it. This time however, was completely different... Something primal was urging the Projectionist to do something completely alien to its usually aggressive nature. Something instinctive.

The poor creature grew agitated upon finally noticing the Projectionist's presence as it approached, but its broken limb ensured it stayed put even after the crate was picked up and tossed aside. It shook fearfully once the Projectionist knelt down to pick it up by the torso. It stopped shaking once it was brought to rest against the much larger beast's chest, cradled gently like an infant. The Projectionist rumbling softly so as to reassure it that no harm would befall it.

The little creature, with a head that was not a projector but a distant relative of a sort, stared up with its own dark lens before reaching out to gently pat the Projectionist's "face". It seemed to understand its intention to help it, rather than exterminate it.

The lumbering beast carried on in its path, now carrying a most precious cargo. It would find something to help treat the injury and then it would begin teaching this newly adopted offspring to survive in the studio.

Mindless beast or not, the Projectionist was still a Polk, and the Polks cared for their younglings. This tiny sentient camera was its child now, and the beast would protect it from the horrors of this horrid studio.

#eps writes:#bendy and the ink machine #batim #norman polk #the projectionist #cameraman

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gregtroyan · 3 years ago

Text

Radiant Epoch: Chapter 2 - Lyra

All the truly enjoyable things in the world came in two kinds. One kind had only a finite lifespan. With things of this kind, there was a moment one could look back on when they first clearly understood that it contained a whole new world of delights just waiting to be explored.

But with that realization came the silent promise that, if one devoted enough time to it, sooner or later, there would be nothing left of it to explore. And finally, the day would come when it no longer felt like an enjoyable thing at all; and without really thinking much of it, a person would simply cease to pursue it. Ten years ago, Lyra would have unhesitatingly cited her dolls and their imagined adventures as one of the more enjoyable things she knew of. The rather impressive doll collection she boasted as a child was just one of many ways in which her life had been enriched by her family’s vocation as retail merchants, which made novel items imported from far-flung regions of the Hafen Empire and beyond a common sight in her house.

The Lyra of today could not recall when playing with dolls had stopped being an enjoyable for her, but she knew it had been many years since she’d felt the urge to do it, and that, at some point, she began to find it more enjoyable by far to see a little girl’s face light up when told that one of Lyra’s childhood toys was hers to keep forever. Incidentally, indulging this more recently discovered pleasure had ultimately whittled her once-prized assemblage down to a single member: a very unusual artifact of the now badly endangered traditional culture of the Anhelos Archipelago, which had managed to stay on as one of her possessions after losing its value as a plaything by becoming instead an evocative symbol of yet another of her enjoyable things, that being a growing earnestness to learn as much as possible about the world she lived in (an interest of hers which no doubt had its roots in her father’s habit of providing his young daughter not only with unique toys, but also with tales of the faraway lands from which they came).

Things of the second kind were a bit more mysterious to Lyra. They had no clear origin, and the way they felt never seemed to change. It was as though people had just been designed to love certain things. Seeing the world slowly flood with light before a sunrise. The feeling of cool air early in the morning. The melodic chirping of the birds who lived in the mountains surrounding Paach as they took to the skies in anticipation of the sunrise. How clear the sound of running water was at the canal while most of her neighbors still slept, or the way the soil in her family’s garden smelled after she watered it.

Lyra had no idea why any of these things which embellished her mornings made her happy, or how she could feel so certain they always would. Perhaps giving toys to children was another pleasure which, once discovered, would never fade. She had seen no evidence in her seventeen years that adults ever got tired of doing that no matter how old they grew.

Such were the thoughts drifting aimlessly through Lyra’s mind this morning as she lay motionless in her bed, not quite sure she had really woken up just yet, or whether a minute or an hour had passed since possibility of getting out of her bed had first occurred to her.

As the first calls of the birds she had just been thinking of reached her ears, she snapped her eyes open and finally acquiesced to wakefulness, rolling out of bed and making for the chemise she had placed on her dresser last night all in one motion. After donning the garment, she felt around for another item she knew to be on her dresser, and soon found it: a small cylinder, with a tiny hole bored into one of its bases. She placed her finger into the hole for a moment. A faint humming could be heard coming from the object, and then suddenly her room was bathed in a soft red light.

Talises were by now a rare sight in most parts of the Hafen Empire. Most kinds had been banned, recalled, and destroyed within a year of the technology’s debut, after the horrific effects they had on the body became tragically apparent. All that was now left of the promise of a vastly improved world which had been fleetingly attached to these items when Lyra was a little girl were a few trinkets offering mild convenience such as the one she now held, which had been allowed to remain in legal circulation because they supposedly used too little magic to cause any harm.

Most people remained extremely wary of them regardless. In Paach, only a handful of eccentrics owned even a single talis. Lyra’s family owned several, and she had recently started keeping this one in her bedroom as an aid to her morning routine, since at this time of year, it was almost always still dark out when she first woke up. To date, she had felt no ill effect from using it. Her father had even said that “everyone” in the city of Hafen still used talises for lighting at night, and he had brought most of the ones they owned back after one of his annual trips to the capital.

The thought had crossed Lyra’s mind before that, given her father’s obsessions with the latest things to come from Hafen, she and her family probably would have been among the first to die of magic sickness in Paach if their business had been as active as it was now when talises had first been available.

Lyra set her talis back down on the dresser, and, with the help of its light, stepped in front of her mirror and reluctantly began putting on the rest of the outfit she had laid out the night before: a long white skirt adorned with colorful foliate embroidery, and a very billowy coat cinched to the wearer’s body by drawstrings. Her father had procured these for her just a few weeks ago during his most recent stay in Hafen, and had presented them to her with the utmost assurance that they were highly fashionable among young women in Hafen these days.

There was probably no human girl in Paach who owned as much “fashionable” clothing as Lyra. There were probably also few who would have cared to less. By now, her parents had to have known that Lyra was not one to be impressed by whatever strangers living hundreds of miles away found fashionable, but every time they presented something like this to her, they talked on and on about it as though this was the one that would finally make their daughter understand.

Admittedly, Lyra had been slightly more interested in gifts of ornate clothing when she was younger, but as she grew older, she realized that in a town like Paach, “being fashionable” just meant sticking out everywhere you went, stirring up jealousy in the other girls and even some married women in her fairly well-to-do neighborhood, and getting nasty glares from cordillans or any human to whom Hafen culture was still anathema (which, in Paach, was a lot of humans).

Around the same time she had wised up about wearing high-quality imported clothing about town, she also realized that these clothes had always been more for her parents than for her anyway. What better way to showcase their shop’s access to the finest merchandise coming in from Hafen than by displaying it on the person of their lovely daughter? That, and her father liked to be surrounded by anything that might let him imagine he was but a temporarily displaced member of the Hafen bourgeoisie, and not a man born and raised in Paach as he actually was.

Lyra let out a sigh as she finished tying off the cords on her coat. She would be minding the store alone in the morning as her parents attended to some business elsewhere in town, so she had no choice but to assume her role of living advertisement today, at least until they returned. She was already looking forward to stripping these off later in the day and changing into the simple but pretty blue kirtle Tyce had bought for her a few days ago.

“Tyce….” Lyra muttered softly as she turned away from the mirror.

A month ago, that had been just a name to her. The name of one of her best friends in this world, sure, but saying it aloud had really felt no different than saying anybody else’s name. Now, it had become a charm that could make her feel just a little bit happy every time she said it. It seemed like the kind of charm that should wear off after a few uses, but somehow it never did.

Tyce and Lyra had begun dating just a little under a month ago, following an unintentionally romantic evening under the stars. Looking back on it, Lyra was still unable to explain how she’d acted that night. Truthfully, she had felt strange even before Tyce had arrived, like the night was just uncontrollably different, but not for any reason she could pin down. And then out-of-the-ordinary things started happening one after the other. Tyce showed up on time. Geneon did not show up at all, leaving the two of them alone. A perfectly normal and innocent chat somehow immediately brought out her long un-confided dread of a seemingly unavoidable future playing out a scripted life in Paach.

By the time they’d set off for the cave, Lyra had been awash with far more conflicting emotions than she’d been prepared to grapple with on what was supposed to have been nothing more than yet another carefree and relaxing time with her friends. She had been angry at herself for letting herself get so vulnerable for no real reason, angry at Tyce for his ineptitude at handling her vulnerability, angry at herself for being unreasonably angry with Tyce, upset that her tried and true mental routines for reigning in her anxiousness around other people were for the first time she could remember simply not working, and desperately searching for a way to shove all of it aside and just have a fun night — all while her worries about the future seemed far more crushingly valid after having finally been heard by someone else.

But she had also been deeply appreciative, to her own surprise, of Tyce’s unyielding efforts to comfort her in spite of his ineptitude. And when he had hugged her by the waterfall, she had suddenly become irrepressibly cognizant of the fact that she was alone in a beautiful place with someone who had actually grown to be quite an attractive man, who she trusted, and who cared about her deeply. It was like there was been some other Lyra who’d been taking a nap in the back of her mind for years who had been well aware all along of what that meant, and that simple touch had finally woken her up; after Tyce’s words at the cave, she was ready to take the reins, and somehow knew exactly what to do next.

It had been the sort of rash and inexplicable action that Lyra had always believed generally led to no good, but so far, she wasn’t complaining about the results. In fact, just about everything since then when it came to Tyce felt totally new and inexplicable to her. It had become clear to her very quickly that the lexicon she’d been given for understanding it all fell far short of the task. Words like “love”, “passion”, “heartache”, or “lust” seemed hopelessly clumsy in practice for navigating romance. It was like people had just given up on coming up with new names for anything once they got to this part of life.

As Lyra headed downstairs, she laughed as remembered what she’d been thinking about in bed a few minutes ago, and wondered which of the two kinds love was. If she thought about it, it had to be closer to the second kind, but overall, her theory of the good things in life now felt like a much less profound epiphany than it had when she was half asleep.

Shelving the whole idea for some other morning’s idle contemplation, she turned her mind to her plans for the day. Her parents would be out during the morning, and she would be minding the store in their absence. After they got back, it was off to her date with Tyce. Troupe Astral had come to Paach, and Tyce was taking her to see their performance. Year by year, Paach was become more open and integrated into the cultural life of the Hafen Empire, but as far as Lyra knew, getting to see a show like this was a first for the people of the town. She was excited for it, and the fact that they showed up so soon after she and Tyce had begun dating somehow made it feel like the whole thing had been specially timed just for them. Lyra had no doubt that this was a day she would remember for the rest of her life. It was hard to believe that after her date, she had something even more important to do.

Before meeting up with Tyce, she was going to see Geneon.

The one and only problem in Tyce and Lyras’ new relationship was what to do about Geneon. A month ago, Geneon and Tyce had more or less shared the same place in Lyra’s heart. The trio had been best friends for long time now, and tended to spend as much of their downtime together as possible. In fact, as far as Lyra was concerned, the two of them were at this point her only friends, or at least her only real ones. Now, though, all of that was in danger of becoming a thing of the past.

It wasn’t just that Tyce and Lyras’ relationship had changed. Of course they were going to want to spend more time with only each other’s company. That probably would have been a bad enough strain on their friendships with Geneon, but it was something that could have been gotten through with time. From what Lyra had seen of other people’s relationships, the whirlwind of mutual infatuation in which she and Tyce had found themselves helplessly caught these past weeks was probably not destined to remain so overpowering forever.

No, the real problem was the huge fight they’d had when Tyce and Lyra had finally worked up the courage to tell him about “them”. It had been the kind of fight where nobody involved was sure whether they were ever speaking again afterward.

Lyra mostly blamed herself for what had happened. First, they should have told him right away rather than waiting so long. Although in fairness, it wasn’t like they were keeping it a secret from him specifically. Tyce’s mother was the only person who heard before Geneon, and that was only because Tyce had just blurted out the truth like it was no big deal when his mom asked how his night went the morning after their first kiss. For her part, that night had left Lyra’s mind spinning. It was only after seeing Tyce again and talking about it all that she finally came to the conclusion, “This person is now my boyfriend,” and the change was so dramatic and hard to believe that she felt like she needed time before telling Geneon, let alone her own parents.

That said, she had only wanted that time to come to terms with her own feelings. As soon as “being in love with Tyce” felt safely like her new normal, she was ready to announce it to the world. She had rehearsed any number of ways the conversation might go with her parents, and was fully prepared to withstand any resistance to her relationship they might put up.

But somehow, she’d given no real thought to how the talk with Geneon would go. Partly that was because, unlike the talk with her parents, Tyce would be there, too, and it wasn’t like she could just write him a script and tell him to stick to it. Not like they should need some plan of action just to talk to their best friend anyway. What was there to do but explain things and assure Geneon he meant no less to them now than he had before?

Suffice to say it had not gone well. If she was being honest, Lyra had noticed long ago that Geneon probably had feelings of his own for her. It was something toward which she had always feigned obliviousness. He’d never confessed his love for her, after all. How could he? A cordillan orphan, and a human daughter of what passed for high society in their town? It was tragically unfair, but that wasn’t going to be an easy life to make work. Besides, in all those years since she’d first started to wonder if he felt that way, “love” for Lyra had always been something for the future — ideally with a mature, intelligent, and well-organized man from somewhere other than Paach who she was sure to fatefully encounter through her family’s business one of these day. For as long as that had remained true, it was easy to just not think about love at all.

Lyra’s big mistake that day had been assuming, without even noticing she was assuming it, that, because Geneon had not acted on his feelings for her, that meant they weren’t every bit as powerful and turbulent as what she and Tyce now felt for each other. She had frankly expected him to accept the situation, be at least a little happy for them, and soon put to rest whatever feelings he might have had for her before she started dating Tyce. Put simply, she was so wrapped up in her feelings for Tyce that she hadn’t even considered that she would need to take how Geneon felt seriously at all.

It would be the easiest thing in the world to leave things as they were. No one else in Tyce and Lyras’ lives had ever been particularly happy about their longstanding friendship with a cordillan, and it would come as a relief to them if Geneon was out of the picture for good. The one exception to this was Tyce’s mother, Ellen. As a widow who ran her own smithy and casually treated cordillans like humans without finding it unusual, she had long been regarded as an oddball (albeit, owing to the necessity of her labor and her seemingly boundless generosity toward others, a well-liked one).

As for Tyce himself, he was being irritatingly stubborn about the whole thing. It was clear he was still angry with Geneon, and every time he came up in conversation, Tyce would hear nothing of going to see him together, and would just say that Geneon would come around when he was ready. But Lyra knew that might never happen. People had been begrudgingly tolerant of their relationship with Geneon when they were children, but they were getting less so with each passing year. It wasn’t like Geneon didn’t face criticism for getting friendly with humans, either, and given his unenviable lot in life, people not liking the way he did things wasn’t just something he could brush off and go about his business the way Lyra and Tyce did. All of the pressures in their lives were for their friendship to dissolve, and their feelings for each other were the only thing standing against them. It just wasn’t a fight Geneon could be expected to make on his own.

The most frightening moment for Lyra had come last night as she was coming home after finalizing her plans for today with Tyce. She was buzzing with excitement in anticipation of their next date, and at some point, the situation with Geneon had crossed her mind. It had only been for an instant, but the thought had popped up loud and clear, Things change. We’re going to be full-fledged adults soon, and then there’ll be no time for playing around outside of town anyway. Maybe it’s fine this way.

After expressing reflexive disgust at that thought and stamping it right back down, Lyra suddenly realized that maybe this was how most of the adults she knew became so self-absorbed and unconcerned about others. She vowed then and there that she would never become the kind of person who could just say, “It’s sad, but that’s life,” about a dear friend she’d grown up with just because she’d found some happiness for herself. She would go confront Geneon the very next minute she had the chance to, and today, she was going to have about three hours free between her parents’ return from their errands and her meetup with Tyce. Lyra was determined to save their friendship and wasn't going to give up on him.

#RadiantEpoch JRPG Novel Novelization Webnovel Webstory OriginalStory OriginalContent Fantasy SciFi Teenager Teenage Love Drama

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abundanceofsoph · 4 years ago

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SkyFire 3: Chapter 2

New York & Saturday Night Live: April 2017

Word count: 4.8k

SkyFire 3 MASTERLIST

Sorry it's been so long since the last chapter but I'm finally back at work after 75 days in lockdown. Updates will probably be a bit more spaced out than they were in Parts 1 & 2 but please know that I am still working away at it and I already have so many future chapters planned out that I'm really excited for.

This chapter is a bit of a long one and I thought about splitting it in half but figured you deserved the treat after waiting patiently.

Don't forget to leave a comment if you're enjoying the series and let me know what you think.

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By the time Aurora woke up Monday morning, Harry’s side of the bed was cold, and he had long since left for the day. Since he would be appearing in multiple sketches on the upcoming episode of Saturday Night Live, he was needed for rehearsals all week. Aurora was thankful that she and the rest of the band weren’t needed until Friday and instead she was able to sleep in. Their flight had arrived in New York well after midnight and by the time they made their way to the tower they had both decided to head straight to bed. Aurora was fairly certain her father would have still been awake, working in his lab but she was far too tired for a reunion after hours on a plane.

Once she managed to roll herself out of bed and get dressed for the day ahead, Aurora made her way down the hall to the open plan kitchen/living area of the penthouse with its wide, floor to ceiling wall of windows looking out over the sprawling expanse of Central Park. Both Tony and Steve were sitting on the stools at the kitchen’s island bench, waiting for their daughter to wake up. Steve had seen Harry earlier that morning as he was leaving, and Steve had been coming back from his early morning run. Both he and Tony were eager to have their daughter home for an entire week and while Steve was happy to sip on his tea and read the morning while they waited, Tony was practically vibrating in his seat with barely contained excitement. Steve’d had to stop him twice from having JARVIS ‘accidentally’ wake Aurora up, so Tony was unsurprisingly the first out of his seat when she finally appeared.

Aurora was grinning widely and broke into a fit of giggles as her father rushed over and lifted her off the ground in a crushing hug. Despite having seen each other only two weeks ago, the craziness of the wedding hadn’t really allowed them much time to just hang out together and prior to the wedding they had spent a solid 5 months apart given the last minute changes to their Christmas plans in the wake of Johannah’s death.

“Missed you Dad,” she said, returning the tight hug.

“Missed you too Kiddo,” Tony replied, finally setting her back on her feet and allowing her to cross the room and fall into Steve’s arms.

The small family spent the entire day together, watching a movie and then moving down to Tony’s workshop in the afternoon so that he could work on a prototype for Stark Industries while Steve and Rori sketched on the sofa. It was reminiscent of how they had spent many evenings shortly after Rori first came to live with her fathers, the memories of those long nights brought a soft smile to her face as she sketched Dumm-e and Butterfingers, where they were attempting to help Tony, but instead were causing more problems than they were able to solve. Harry found them all there when he arrived back to the tower later that evening, grinning excitedly as he launched into his recounting of his first day with the SNL cast.

xXx

Since first meeting her father’s childhood best friend, James ‘Bucky’ Barnes, three years ago, Aurora had slowly come to see him as a member of the family. For the first year that they had both lived in the tower together, they had coexisted amicably but had been far from friends, nothing close to the way Aurora was with the rest of the team. Even as her relationship with Sam had flourished quickly as he acclimatized to life as an Avenger she had struggled to be around Bucky. He hadn’t held her distant behaviour against her, knowing that while most of the team had been able to separate the actions of the Winter Soldier from Bucky himself, Aurora had struggled to accept into her home the man who had tried, on several occasions, to assassinate one of her fathers. Following the Columbia Shooting, she had surprised him by seeking him out during her recovery and their friendship had bloomed after her amputation surgery. Now, many years later Bucky easily filled the role of another uncle in Aurora’s life, a shift that had made Steve overwhelmingly happy.

It was late Tuesday afternoon and Steve went in search of his daughter, having not seen her since they’d shared lunch together. He expected to see her in the workshop with Tony, however his husband said he hadn’t seen her since breakfast. With the help of JARVIS he finally found her on one of the lower floors, the one shared by Sam, Bucky and Rhodey when he was in town. She was in the living room sitting across the table from Bucky, a game of Battleship between the pair. Steve suppressed a chuckle as he joined the pair, well aware by now of how much his best friend and his daughter enjoyed playing a variety of tabletop games together. Many arguments had been started over a game of backgammon or canasta.

“Who’s winning?” he asked, pulling up a chair beside Aurora and throwing an arm around her shoulders.

“I’m kicking his ass,” she smiled.

“She’s getting cocky,” Buck replied, “and it’s going to backfire on her in a minute.”

“Of course it is,” Aurora said, her tone dripping in sarcasm.

The game continued for a while, Aurora cheering and taunting when she sunk another of Bucky’s ships, mocking him mercilessly when he continued to miss her own turn after turn.

“I don’t understand why you always beat me,” he moaned when she won. “I mean surely your luck has to run out eventually.”

“It’s not luck, Bucky,” Rori laughed. “It’s about strategy and reading your opponent and I hate to tell you, but you are entirely predictable.”

“I’ll have you know I’m an excellent battle strategist,” Bucky retorted.

“Apparently you’re not,” Aurora bit back, a wide smile gracing her face. Steve let out a loud peel of laughter at their bickering.

“Excuse me,” JARVIS interrupted. “Miss Stark, you requested that I alert you when young Mr Styles returned to the tower.”

“Thanks J,” Rori replied, kissing her fathers’ cheek and jumping to her feet, ready to head towards the elevator.

“Miss Stark?” Steve asked.

“He said that Dad programmed him to call me that and no marriage certificate is gonna change it,” Rori explained with a roll of her eyes. “Dad could probably get him to stop but honestly I like it. I didn’t get to be a Stark for very long so it’s nice to be one when I come home.”

“You’ll always be a Stark, bug,” Steve promised, returning the kiss on her cheek and watching as she left the room in search of Harry on the upper floors of the Tower.

“Enjoying having her home?” Bucky asked.

“Absolutely,” Steve answered. “I miss her when she’s not here. Tony does too, even if he won’t admit it. She grew up too fast on us.”

“Can’t have been easy not meeting her until she was practically all grown up,” Bucky pointed out.

“No, you’re right,” Steve agreed. “Sometimes I wish we’d got to raise her, but I’d also never want to have taken away any of the time she got with her mom.”

“You and Tony ever think of having another kid?”

“We’ve talked about,” Steve said. “It’s not very easy process. The worlds come a long way since the 40’s Buck, but it’s still hard for two men to adopt. It certainly doesn’t help that we’ve got such dangerous jobs.”

“Guess that makes sense,” Bucky replied. “Never known you to back down from something just because it’s hard or because someone tells you no, though.”

“You might have a point there. Seems we’ve managed to accidently adopt Peter over the years so maybe we’re just meant to keep collecting teenagers.”

xXx

Something Aurora loved about the city was the way that New Yorkers didn’t care about anyone around them. Everyone was busy getting from one place to another and had very little time or care to look at those surrounding them on the crowded sidewalks. Aurora could easily wander the streets without being hassled as she went about her day. Occasionally a tourist would recognize her, but more often than not, a large pair of sunglasses and a hat pulled low would hide her enough to avoid all but the most astute fan. She wore a loose oversized cardigan which hung over the tips of her fingers completely concealing her prosthetic hand as she headed through the streets of midtown Manhattan, her hands full of shopping bags as she walked back towards Avengers Tower. She could have halved the time to get home by taking the subway, but the weather was nice, so she enjoyed the walk, reaching the towers lobby a little after 2 in the afternoon.

By the time she stepped out of the elevator and into the penthouse, she noted Steve, Clint and Bucky sprawled out on the sofas in front of the tv. She dropped her shopping bags onto the floor and launched herself onto the sofa cushion next to Steve, curling herself into his side as his arm fell around her shoulders, hugging her tightly against him.

“Where’ve you been all day?” he asked.

“Went shopping,” Rori explained.

“Do I want to know?” he asked with a soft chuckle.

“I bought wigs.”

“Why on earth are you buying wigs?” Clint butted in.

“Because with the tour coming up,” Rori said, “I want to try out some different hair colours, but I’ve never bleached my hair before and I’m honestly terrified of ruining my hair. So, wigs.”

“Do we get a fashion show?” Steve asked.

“Maybe later,” she mumbled, yawning widely before resting her head back against Steve’s shoulder and staring, glazed eyes at the tv.

xXx

The following day, Sam found Rori sitting alone against one of the large windows, hugging her knees tightly against her chest as she stared out over the city.

“Hey, you,” he said as he took a seat next to her on the floor. “You ok?”

“Yeah I’m good,” she replied, her voice soft and a little distant, her gaze remaining on the view spread out beneath them.

“Remember when you promised me you wouldn’t lie about how you were feeling,” Sam reminded her.

She sighed, her shoulders sagging and her head leaning forward to rest against the cold glass. “I had a panic attack last week,” she mumbled.

“When you got home to London?” he asked.

She shook her head. “On the last day of our honeymoon. This thunderstorm came rolling in out of nowhere the day before we flew home, and I just freaked out and ruined everything. I thought I was getting better.”

“You are getting better,” Sam argued. “This is the first panic attack you’ve had in months. That’s a huge improvement.”

“But I thought they were gone,” Rori sobbed. “I was just starting to feel normal again but I’m never going to be like I was.”

“No, you’re not,” he agreed. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but PTSD isn’t something you just get over. It’s going to be with you for the rest of your life, but that doesn’t have to mean there’s anything wrong with you and I’m sure Harry didn’t think you ruined the trip.”

“Of course he didn’t, he’s Harry,” she said. “He’s always so supportive and just wants to help me through it. It’s not even really about last week,” she admitted. “It’s more about what it says about the rest of the year. The rest of my life. When Harry asked me to join his band, I was terrified that somehow, I would do something to ruin it all, like that somehow my prosthetic would malfunction, and I’d ruin a show. Now I’m wondering what will happen if I have a panic attack at a show? There are so many things that can go wrong, and he’s worked so hard for all of this. I’ll never forgive myself if I do anything to damage that.”

“What happens if Mitch slips over in the rain and breaks his hand and can’t play the guitar? What if Sarah gets the flu and has to sit out a few shows? What if something happens with Adams kids and he has to leave the tour?” Sam asked. “There are so many what ifs and things that can go wrong but did you notice how none of those things had anything to do with anyone’s disabilities? There are things in your life that are going to be more challenging for you than they would have been if you hadn’t been shot. You can’t let that stop you from living. I’m sure Harry and Jeff have all kinds of plans in place for what happens if one of you gets sick and can’t perform, so maybe you should talk to them about your concerns and you can have some plans in place and that will help with the anxiety of it all.”

“You know I really hate when you’re right Sam,” Aurora mumbled, the corners of her lips twitching.

“I know,” he smirked. “But one of these days you’ll learn to accept that I’m never wrong.”

Aurora stuck her tongue out at him before letting out a tired sigh. “I’m just so exhausted. Like, my brain just never stops stressing over these tiny little things and it’s so exhausting to constantly be worrying about everything. I mean Christ, I chipped my nail polish at lunch and it’s all I’ve been able to think about for the last few hours which is ridiculous because who cares if my nail polish is chipped, but I’m going to be on live tv in two days and what if they want a shot of my hands while I’m playing and it’s not like I have time to go get them redone now.”

“Why not just tell the camera operators not to set up that shot?” Sam asked, always the rational voice.

“Yeah,” Rori nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

Having said his piece, Sam stood up after giving her shoulder a quick squeeze and then walked away, leaving her to think about what he’d said. She was still sitting on the floor beside the window deciding how to bring her anxieties to Harry without adding to his already full plate when Nat appeared beside her. “Heard you could do with a manicure,” she said.

She extended her hand, helping Aurora up off the floor and then led her to the elevator and down to her personal floor. Nat didn’t press Aurora to talk as they settled down in her living room and set about removing the chipped polish from the nails of her right hand. Rori was grateful for the silence, not sure that she had the energy to carry a conversation but also glad that she wasn’t alone. Where others in the tower felt that they needed to distract her from her anxiety, it was always Nat that provided what she needed without her ever having to ask. Her thoughts whirled in her head as Nat applied the new pale yellow polish to her nails in slow, methodical strokes, Sam’s advice echoing in Aurora’s ears.

“You seem stressed,” Nat finally said as she finished the topcoat on the last nail.

“Just nervous about the show on Saturday,” Rori replied softly. “Live TV doesn’t leave any room for error.”

“I’m sure you’ll all do great,” Nat promised with a warm smile. “Now lay back and I’ll do a face mask and help you relax. You’re way too tense for a 22 year old.”

Aurora did as she was told without argument, laying back and closing her eyes as Nat spread the cool clay over her face and then she started massaging her long fingers into Rori’s scalp. Once the mask was finished and Nat had cleaned it away with a warm cloth, she set about rubbing moisturizer onto Rori’s face, soothing the pinched muscles between the younger woman’s brow until she fell asleep under Nat’s hands.

When Harry arrived back at the tower a little over an hour later he found most of the team in the penthouse, however his wife was conspicuously absent from the group. He asked JARVIS if she was downstairs in either of the studios, his brow furrowing when the AI informed him that she was in Agent Romanoff’s private quarters and he headed for the elevator.

Nat was sitting on the other sofa across from where Rori was sleeping peacefully, a book in hand when JARVIS’ voice filled the room and she was thankful that she had asked the AI to lower its volume when Aurora had fallen asleep.

“Mr. Styles is requesting access to your floor Agent Romanoff,” JARVIS announced in a hushed whisper.

“Tell him to come in,” Nat replied in an equally soft tone.

A few moments later, the elevator doors opened at the end of the hall and Harry strolled into the room, his eyes immediately falling to his sleeping wife. “Hey,” he whispered to Nat. “Everything ok here?”

“She was getting a bit anxious about Saturday, so we had a bit of a spa day to help her calm down,” Nat explained.

Harry nodded and then headed over to the sofa, sitting on its edge next to Aurora’s hip and reached out to trace his hand along her cheekbone. “Rors?” he soothed. “Time to wake up love.” As she began to stir, Nat left the room allowing the couple to have some privacy.

“You’re home,” Rori mumbled, her voice thick with sleep and a soft smile lifting the corners of her lips. “Missed you today.”

“Heard you had a bad day,” Harry said, pulling her up and into a tight hug. “Sorry I wasn’t here.”

“S’ok,” she replied as she pressed her face into the crook of his neck. “Just got in my head a bit and spiralled.”

“Feeling better now?”

“Much,” she promised. “Always feel better when you’re here.”

“Mitch text me about 20 minutes ago that their flight landed so they’ll be here soon. Wanna come upstairs with me? Think Steve’s cooking a massive dinner.”

Aurora nodded her head and laced her fingers through Harry’s as the headed for the elevator doors.

xXx

Aurora tried to hold back her anxiety as she walked through the door with Harry, Jeff and the rest of the band Friday morning. She knew she was doing a poor job of it when Harry squeezed her hand tightly in an attempt to comfort her. She was angry at herself for her nervousness, knowing that she had performed on bigger stages in front of live audiences in the past, but she couldn’t seem to overcome the fear that she would make a mistake that would make Harry look bad. She could always deal with embarrassing herself, but the idea of screwing up everything that Harry had worked for was what truly made her terrified.

The set was a blur of activity and Harry led them down the halls towards the set where their equipment had been set up. Sarah headed straight to her drum kit and the boys picked up their guitars while Rori and Harry walked over to where the keyboards where a grand piano was waiting for her.

“You look like you’re going to be sick babe,” Harry said. He kept his voice low, whispering in his wife’s ear as she sat down on her bench seat, not wanting draw anyone’s attention to their conversation. “I know you’re going to nail this. Just gotta trust me.”

“I know,” she replied. “God anxiety is such a bitch.” Harry chuckled at her little outburst and then he kissed the top of her head before walking over towards the microphone stand.

They spent the rest of the day running through the two songs they would perform the following evening. They discussed the lighting and camera set ups, making sure that everyone in the band and the crew knew exactly where they would stand and which way the equipment would move during the live broadcast. Occasionally they would take breaks for Harry to go work on the sketches he would be appearing in or they would stop so that Aurora could remove her prosthetic for a while. In the year since she had started wearing the prosthetic hand, Tony and Peter had redesigned the original many times, constantly upgrading and improving it’s coding to make it easier for her to wear for longer periods of time. Despite these upgrades, she still found it hard to wear for too long and after about 4 hours of prolonged use she would start to get horrible tension headaches from the transmitting device she wore behind her left ear. It was for this reason that the majority of their soundchecks were happening on Friday so that Aurora wouldn’t be required to play before the show was ready to go to air. She was always uncomfortable whenever plans had to change in order to accommodate her disability, but Harry had assured her repeatedly over the course of the week that it was not a big deal and that they wouldn’t have been needed much on Saturday afternoon anyway, so it wasn’t even that much of a change to the schedule.

By the end of the day, Aurora was exhausted. They had taken plenty of breaks throughout the day, but she knew that she had definitely pushed herself, never wanting to be the one to call for a break and know she was paying for it. She had her prosthetic off and stuffed into her bag before they even reached the car that would take them all the few short blocks back to the tower. She sat in the back seat beside Harry and let her head fall against his shoulder, closing her eyes for the quick 10 minute drive.

“You alright love?” Harry asked quietly as they pulled up in the underground carpark of the tower.

She hummed in response, letting him lead her out of the car and into the waiting elevator. “Just tired,” she promised. “It was a long day.”

“It was,” Harry agreed, his arm wrapped tightly around her waist. “Went great though. Think tomorrow’s going to be amazing.”

Aurora wasn’t the only one who was tired and after such a long day of rehearsals, everyone in the band was happy to return to the tower, the inviting smells of dinner greeting them as they stepped out of the elevator to see the entire team crowded around the dining table, waiting for them. Aurora’s eyes lit up as she saw Peter at the table and immediately rushed over to him, pulling him out of his seat and into a hug, her exhaustion evaporated in the wake of seeing him again for the first time since they’d arrived back in town.

“God, where have you been all week?” she asked.

“Sorry been busy with school and patrols,” Peter replied. “I usually only have time to come over Friday nights and on the weekends.”

“Lucky we’re not leaving till Monday then,” Rori smiled. “Otherwise I wouldn’t get to spend any time with you at all. Now talk to me, how’s it feel to almost be finished with High School?”

Harry watched them with an amused smile as they sat next to each other, talking excitedly about Peter’s upcoming graduation and which colleges he had been accepted to. They barely stopped talking throughout the entire meal, completely oblivious to anyone else at the table. Harry hadn’t spent a great deal of time around Peter, given how much time he had spent on the road with One Direction or off filming Dunkirk while Aurora had still been living in the tower full time, but it didn’t really take a lot of time to understand why Tony, Steve and Rori had all rushed to absorb Peter into their little family. He was such a nice kid, always energetic and excited about anything going on everyone’s lives and he was joy to be around. He had so seamlessly fit into the family dynamic that everyone considered him a Stark in all bar name. Harry had once asked Rori about his place in the team, and she had smiled brightly, explaining how happy she was that while she and Steve had always had their art to bond over, she was relieved that Tony now had someone that could keep up with him in the lab and that he could teach Peter and watch him improve. She’d always wanted a little brother and now she had one in Peter. Tony and Steve had already experienced the emotional minefield of establishing parental roles without stepping on the memory of Rori’s mother, to it had been so easy for them to find a way to fill those same roles with Peter over the last few years without diminishing May’s place in his life or erasing the importance of Peter’s parents. The Avenger’s had always been a messy, happy, found family, and with the addition of Peter and May, and then with Mitch, Adam and Sarah, the family just seemed to keep expanding and Harry could see how much Aurora loved having each and everyone of them crowded into the penthouses dining room.

xXx

Saturday was a blur of activity and rushing around, and before Aurora realised someone was yelling that they were going live in 10 minutes. She was sitting out of the way with Sarah on one side of her and Adam on the other, waiting for their time to perform. Harry was off getting ready for the first sketch and they had a small tv hanging on the wall nearby so that they could watch the show while they waited. The first half of the show went off without a hitch and all four of them simply tried to keep out of everyone’s way until a technician came over to heard them towards the set. They were all situated behind their instruments by the time Harry joined them and he quickly ducked over to Rori for a good luck kiss before taking his place at the mic stand and waiting for the signal to start. One of Aurora’s knees was bouncing beneath the piano and there was a slight tremor in her right hand as she closed her eyes and took a few deep breathes on the darkened set. She tuned out the camera’s and the studio audience, her attention narrowing down to her instrument and Harry a few steps in front of her as she began the opening chords of the song. For a few brief seconds her piano was the only sound as the lights began to lift, and Harry’s voice rang out through the studio. As they hit the pre-chorus Rori and Sarah added their voices to the mix and then all of the other instruments joined as they entered the chorus. All of Aurora’s nerves disappeared as Harry belted out the lyrics of the chorus, and in the brief moment right before the second verse he turned, catching her eye and winking before returning to the microphone. In the final lines of the song, right in the middle of the most difficult notes, Aurora heard Harry’s voice falter and he missed a line. She tried to hide a grimace, knowing that he would be kicking himself for slipping at the end of the song. The moment the camera’s cut away she was at his side, arms wrapped tightly around his waist and he pecked her lips quickly. She attempted to comfort him before he was quickly whisked away to change into the costume for the next sketch.

By the time they returned to their little set for their second song Harry appeared to have shaken off the slip up and everyone, including Aurora, was buzzing with adrenaline and ready to go with their second performance. This time the grand piano was gone, and Aurora’s keyboard was positioned behind Harry’s spot at the centre of the stage. With all the sketches out of the way, Aurora watched happily as Harry allowed himself to enjoy the performance. As they finished the song and the audience cheered, Harry quickly pulled his guitar strap over his head and walked over to where Rori was seated behind the keys. He cupped her cheeks in his hands and kissed her softly. “That one was for you my love,” he whispered as their lips separated.

“So proud of you,” she whispered in reply. “You absolutely killed it tonight.”

NEXT CHAPTER

OR CONTINUE READING ON AO3

#skyfire fic #Husband Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #dad!tony #ptsd #domestic fluff #iron dad #step dad steve rogers #aurora stark #harry styles #tony stark #found family avengers

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7team7 · 4 years ago

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I like-like you

AU: Zuko becomes the Fire Lord at an even younger age and when he finally meets Chief Hakoda’s daughter, he is struck by her beauty, power, and poise.

Or, Zuko has his first crush and he doesn’t know how to deal with it. 4.8k words

A/N: hi HAHA I’m still very dedicated to the sasusaku fandom, but I wanted to post zutara fics too now that I’ve been rewatching avatar hope no one minds T-T so obviously this is my first zutara fic hope it turned out ok!

Zuko sighed as he dropped to sit on the foot of his bed, taking down his hair and removing some of his outer layers of clothing. He was in trouble.

Fire Lord Zuko, the young and pure Zuko who had been thrust into power after his father and sister met their mutual demise in an explosive Agni Kai. Zuko had sustained injury, resulting in his prominent scar, when he tried to put a stop to their duel. But the battle raged on, both family members too incensed by uncut ambition to listen to reason. Uncle had to drag him away from the scene to protect him further. It made sense that two of the strongest fire benders would be the ones to extinguish the other’s light.

Fire Lord Zuko, who wasn’t ready to take power and still heavily leaned on his uncle’s wisdom and support. Fire Lord Zuko, who was hardly an adult and still had plenty of growing up to do. Fire Lord Zuko, who was panicking at the strange feelings bubbling up inside of him — his first crush.

He had been notified that Chief Hakoda of the Southern Water Tribe was a formidable, but modest man and would be traveling with his two children as his main companions. The two leaders had yet to have the pleasure of meeting, so Zuko could not have predicted this, could not have prepared himself to be faced with the most beautiful girl in all the nations.

If someone had just told him, “By the way, Katara is stunning and will rip your insides apart both literally and figuratively, so watch out,” then maybe Zuko could have practiced his introductions more carefully and avoided stuttering like a bumbling fool.

But he was born unlucky, cursed to be...like this.

“Chief Hakoda,” he had greeted easily upon the family’s arrival, “I’m pleased to meet you and welcome you to the Fire Nation. I hope your travels were smooth.” But as the party drew closer, close enough where Zuko noticed the particular shade of blue in the girl’s eyes, he stumbled. “I see you’ve brought your...your, um...your family. They are also most, uh, honored. Honored guests. Your two children. Both of them.” ��

Hakoda must have chalked his bumbling speech up to nerves — Zuko was so very young — and he chose to greet him warmly.

Oh spirits, he knew how to greet other leaders, but how was he supposed to greet...a girl?

Luckily, her brother gave a rather informal introduction and promptly asked where he could locate a snack or, if Zuko was feeling generous, a seven course meal. “Oh yeah, and this is my sister, Katara.”

“You’ll have to excuse my brother. If you’re wondering, yes, he’s always like this.”

Zuko was wary of sisters, he had been royally screwed over by his own. He was even wary of girls in general after seeing how crazy his sister and her friends were.

But he could tell immediately that Sokka and Katara were dramatically different from Azula and himself. His heart squeezed a bit at the thought of what could have been, but he pushed it aside and transitioned into the welcoming host that he had been training to be. He really was glad to have them there — it was a true benchmark of the peace and cooperation spreading across all four nations.

Thankfully Uncle, always there to save the day, came around the corner and offered tea like it was the most natural thing in the world. (And to him, it probably was.)

“How was your trip?” he asked warmly while guiding them in the right direction. “Not too bad, I hope. It must be nice not getting seasickness!”

Hakoda chuckled, “Yes, it wasn’t anything that we’re not used to. The Fire Nation is a bit far, but the journey was worth it.” Crossing the open ocean with his two children was really only missing one thing.

Pulling a piece of jerky from seemingly out of nowhere, Sokka joked, “Yeah, sometimes the water got a little jerky,” and then remembering where he was he became serious, “but nothing the Water Tribe can’t handle.” He took a bite of his snack and Katara rolled her eyes.

“Even when the sea isn’t feeling kind, Sokka and I are able to steer easily thanks to Katara’s help.”

Zuko spoke up, “Oh, are you a ship captain?”

Katara smiled at him, “No, I’m a waterbender.”

Duh. Of course she was a waterbender. But also, why didn’t anyone tell him that not only was she pretty but she was a waterbender too? Those lengthy council meetings couldn’t have included just a little debrief on this girl?

“Oh. That’s cool. I’m a firebender.”

“Makes sense.”

He needed to get it together before someone would be able to waterbend the sweat off his palms.

Thankfully the conversation was cut short by their arrival to the tea room. Surrounded by red, black, gold, and the smell of herbs, Zuko felt instantly comforted. As they settled around a low table, he found himself wondering what Katara would look like in Fire Nation red. Probably cute.

He was shaken from his daydream by his uncle asking the room if they preferred jasmine or chamomile. “Even though this is supposed to be an official trip, I hope you can still enjoy some more leisurely activities during your stay. All work without play makes your day become gray,” he said wisely.

“Tonight, we have a banquet planned in your honor,” Zuko chimed in, “but the meetings tomorrow should only take up part of the day.”

“I’d hope so,” said Hakoda good-naturedly, “this tea is fantastic and I’ll need some more in the coming days.”

“It’s Uncle’s specialty, I’m glad you enjoy it. We’ll have to give you a tour of the grounds.”

“Speaking of a tour, wouldn’t you say the garden is very nice? Rather romantic don’t you think? Why don’t you take Katara there, she’d certainly enjoy the, uh, water in the pond!” Iroh wore many hats: loving uncle, wise advisor, fierce warrior, and now, insightful matchmaker.

But Katara didn’t sense the awkwardness, her face lit up at the mention of water, as if they hadn’t spent ages at sea. “A pond! I’d love to see it! Oh, and I’m sure the garden is lovely.”

“Excellent! Zuko, why don’t you guide her there? I can show our other guests the weaponry.” This time, it was Sokka’s turn to light up like a firecracker.

While normally Zuko would find it very sensible of his uncle to delegate tasks like this, he was feeling a little resentful that he was forced into a situation that made him so unbelievably nervous.

Alas, he had a duty to perform. He stood up and gestured, “Let’s go.”

Katara made small talk the whole way, asking questions about the palace and its history and the weather. Zuko was relieved that he knew all the answers. He should show her the library too.

“Do you come to this pond often?” She cringed, feeling like she was dropping a pick up line, but she really did want to know why Iroh suggested it out of all places.

“Not so much lately, but I used to sit in the gardens all the time with my mother.”

She didn’t respond except to smile at him with a genuine, meaningful warmth in her eyes.

The garden was even more breathtaking than she expected it to be, and the glittering pond was just begging her to come closer. It was so lush and just different from what she was used to (snow, snow, and more snow) that she couldn’t help but let her mouth hang open in awe.

Zuko led her to the usual spot without thinking much of it. She gasped in delight when she saw the little creatures gliding through the pond, “And just what do we have here?”

“They’re turtleducks. They’re cute, but don’t mess with them too much. The mother turtleduck can be feisty.”

But Katara was only half listening, having fun making little waves to gently lift the babies. They kept swimming up to the edge of the pond, quacking as if they were saying, more, more, more! Their mother watched safely from the other side of the pond, but she never swam over to intervene. “They are really cute!”

“Oh,” he said, sounding clearly surprised, “they like you.”

The dinner that night was festive and bright, but left Katara feeling pretty tired. While foreign, the Fire Nation palace was rather comfortable. After such a long trip to get there, the riot of new sights, sounds, and smells, and perhaps a little too much food all at once, gave Katara the sense that she’d sleep easily that night.

She had a certain amount of trepidation visiting the Fire Nation, but it really was nothing but pleasant so far. It didn’t hurt that the Fire Lord, rather than being old and stuffy and weird, was very cute. He was probably also, uh, really good at his job and at firebending. Or something.

As she settled into the fluffy pillows and drew the deep red comforter closer, she thought that if she saw him in her dreams, she certainly would not mind. She counted turtleducks in her head before drifting off.

While Uncle’s company was normally more than enough (and on a bad day, too much), but the morning after meeting the lively Water Tribe family felt distinctly empty when they had yet to arrive at the table.

Zuko sipped his tea, not yet cold, but it felt like so much time had passed since he sat down that it might as well have been. “Where are they? It’s been...many minutes! Do you think they just decided to jump ship and head back to the Southern Water Tribe?”

“Patience, patience. I’m sure once the scent of breakfast and the greatest tea in all four nations wafts over to their rooms, they will come running.”

“Maybe we should wake them up.”

“Why the rush?”

“Shouldn’t we at least check? What if they died?”

“I would hope not.”

“What if a faction is conspiring against us and killed all of them — and will frame us for the murder?! This will launch another war that we are responsible for.”

“That would be very bad!” He could see the gears turning in his nephew’s mind, so he decided to play along to help placate him.

Zuko stood up abruptly, shaking the table, “We can’t just sit around and wait. I’ll check on Katara. You go look for the others.” He stormed out of the room before Iroh could even object.

Not that he would, though. Seeing his nephew take action was very pleasing.

He marched all the way across the palace to the guest bedrooms, but before he knocked on Katara’s door, he stopped in his tracks like an invisible wall was in his way. Initially so confident in his decision, he was now filled with uncertainty. What would he do if he really found Katara’s limp, poisoned body laying on the bed?

Or worse: what if he barged in and she was naked because she was in the middle of changing?

He took a deep breath to center himself. There was no use in panicking. He could do this. He had faced more intimidating enemies, more foreign situations.

But the longer he thought about it, he realized he had never had to deal with a girl.

Best case scenario, she was in there with a great explanation as to why her family was late to breakfast and his nerves would be soothed like putting aloe on a sunburn. Yeah, he would go with the most ideal situation for now.

Maybe he should still practice, just in case.

“Hello, Zuko here!”

The looming wooden door didn’t respond.

“Good morning! Um, no, that’s not right. What if she’s having a bad morning? Uh, how do you do there? How is the Fire Nation treating you? Too formal, she’s not a dusty old diplomat.” His shoulders drooped. He needed to get this done before Uncle (or her own family members) came and interrupted him. This was his chance. His chance at what exactly, he wasn’t sure, but he was just going to go for it.

He knocked sharply, loud enough to wake any long-slumbering air bison. Just for good measure, he called out, “It’s Zuko!” And all his hemming and hawing and practicing was really for nothing because not long after, Katara flung the door open.

Without her hair tied back, it ran wild and curled around her face. Her eyes, normally so wide and crystal clear, were half shut and bleary with sleep. “Yes?”

“Yes! Hello. Uh, good morning. I just wanted to see if you would be joining us for breakfast this morning.” He added a little more quietly, but also a little more like himself, “I was getting worried.”

“Good morning,” she nodded. “What time is it?”

Zuko glanced around, “I’m not exactly sure, but the sun is up.”

Katara gave him a small smile, “I see. Well, have you ever considered that not everyone rises with the sun?” Or code for, firebender, can’t you see I’m tired?

He immediately started apologizing, feeling a blush creep up his neck. He had interrupted her hopefully peaceful sleep because he was missing her at breakfast. Nice one.

Katara held up a hand to stop him, then scrubbed it over her face to wake herself up more, “It’s really fine. We’re guests here and should be running on your schedule. I can be ready in a minute.”

“We’re hosts and should be more accommodating. I’ll leave you to it, breakfast won’t go anywhere without you.” He turned away, feeling a little silly for freaking out, but Katara’s voice stopped him.

“Actually, Zuko?”

“Yes?”

“Can you maybe wait here for me? I don’t want to get lost on my way to breakfast. You know, that would just waste more time,” she laughed awkwardly, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“I’ll be here.” He was still smiling widely when she shut the door in his face.

“Your first full day here, is there anything else you’d like to do?” Iroh asked when everyone was finally gathered for breakfast. The meetings were purposely scheduled for after lunch when the sun was high in the sky and all the grumpy old advisors were in their best moods.

Sokka attempted to be casual, “Well I don’t know about everyone else but I’m feeling like I could stretch my legs some more. Like, sure, we got to see the armory and it was super cool. But! It would be infinitely cooler if we could actually, you know, play.”

Zuko lit up like a match, “We should spar!”

Sokka backpedaled, waving his arms around, “Woah, woah, woah! Nonbender versus Fire Lord? Do you see the problem here?”

Iroh spoke with pride, “My nephew here is not only a talented firebender, but he is also trained in the art of the sword, the dao sword.”

“So he can make fire and he has two swords? Kind of unfair, but not scary enough for me to decline. But no bending!” A true warrior never backed down from a challenge.

While a club and a boomerang might not seem like much, Zuko quickly realized he’d have to keep his guard up if he wanted to put up a decent fight. And it had absolutely nothing to do with looking cool in front of one out of the three members in the audience. Wouldn’t any sister want to see her brother get it handed to him anyway?

By the time they threw the towel in, Zuko could feel the sweat dripping down his back. So much for being invigorated by the sun. It was reassuring to see Sokka crawl back to sit next to his father.

As he put away his swords and took a refreshing drink of water, Katara stood up, “Don’t think we’re done here.”

He raised his eyebrow, “Your waterbending versus my firebending? You’re on.” He was tired but definitely still had some fight in him. It would be dishonorable to refuse.

As soon as they started, Zuko’s eyes widened. Okay, so by now he knew she was a waterbender, but seriously, why didn’t anyone tell him that she’s a master waterbender? Honestly, you’d think this girl would have built up a reputation across the nations. Based on the wide-eyed palace staff watching from the corners, she was definitely going to earn one in the Fire Nation.

Giving as much as he got, they danced around in circles for what felt like ages. Katara was a resilient, dynamic fighter and Zuko hadn’t felt so challenged in ages. He didn’t want to end the match because he wanted to keep studying her. It was rare for him to be able to battle a waterbender, let alone one so capable.

But Zuko’s fire had caused most of Katara’s water supply to evaporate and she was running out of places to draw from. In a last ditch effort to come out on top, she quickly made a razor thin water whip and managed to land a hit on the side of his face. His fire faded away into shimmering heat almost immediately.

He didn’t see it coming — really, the whip was so thin and came on his scarred side, so he was mostly stunned when it cut into his cheek. Katara gasped as she saw rich red blood start to drip out of the wound.

Gathering what was left of her water, she rushed up to him and immediately got to work healing, “I am so, so sorry. I wasn’t seriously trying to hurt you, I thought you’d block it like you blocked everything else. I’m really sorry, Zuko, I feel terrible.”

But he harbored no resentment. It was an exciting match and he was still too shocked to feel real pain besides the soreness in his muscles.

And the cut had landed just beneath his scar, so Katara’s hand covered the bottom part of it too. No one had bothered to touch him there in a long, long time, let alone heal him.

“Katara,” he said softly. She was so focused on apologizing that she hadn’t realized the cut was long gone. Healing water was useless on his scar at this point. But he didn’t mind anymore. The burnt skin was less sensitive than the rest of his face, but he could still feel the cool relief seeping into him.

She jumped back, letting the water splash to the ground between them. “Right, sorry. Again.”

He chuckled, “It’s okay. I didn’t know you could heal. What can’t you do?”

“Uh, firebend. I’m no avatar! So that means I can’t earthbend or airbend either. Would be awfully convenient if I could.”

“Right, me neither. I mean, I can’t waterbend, that is. I can firebend. But you already knew that.”

“Yes! I did, I did. You can also fight with swords, though, and that’s another thing I can’t do. So I think a better question would be what can I do, you know?”

Sokka, growing tired of their lame jokes, interrupted from the side, “So who’s hungry?”

Zuko, though worn out, wasn’t feeling particularly hungry because it seemed that a colony of butterflies had decided to occupy his stomach.

After cleaning up and taking a quick lunch, they sat through a series of meetings that left Zuko a bit weary, but hopeful. The nations working together peacefully was truly a dream come true. He had watched wistfully as Hakoda encouraged and listened intently to the suggestions of his two children. At least Uncle always valued his opinion.

Before dinner, the young man was finally allowed to have a moment alone with his thoughts, and they turned to Katara. He wandered aimlessly through the palace halls. Maybe he should seek her out? But for what reason, didn’t they just spend hours together?

The decision was made for him, though, when he nearly bumped into her as he rounded a corner. He reached out to grab her arm to steady her. For a waterbender, her skin was awfully warm.

“Oh, Zuko! I was actually just looking for you.”

“You were?” He couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice even though he was too, kind of.

“I had a question for you. The Southern Water Tribe is expanding at a pretty fast rate, but I still feel like we’re missing something. And I think it would help if we had some sort of library, you know, for future generations to look at and learn from. I’ve been gathering things, but most of our history has been told through oral histories. Would the Fire Nation happen to have…?”

It was a valid question, given the way the Fire Nation had plundered the other nations. Zuko nodded in understanding, “I can show you the library. If you see something you think would be helpful, it’s yours.” It was the least he could do to start making up for years of mistreatment. Ozai had done so much damage.

The royal library was truly worthy of marvel and Katara probably could have spent ages inside, but she had a mission. Without her needing to ask, Zuko led her to the relevant section. The fact that the library had a section at all was pretty hard to wrap her mind around.

“Wow, if I were you I’d just spend all day in here.”

“Yeah, I wish. But I’ve got a job to do and I don’t know how much a book can teach me about it,” he said with a hint of bitterness. He knew there were plenty who opposed his rule, criticized his every move, but he couldn’t hide from them.

“Well I think you’re doing a great job,” she said with an easy smile before pulling out a title. She gave out compliments like water, but it still felt nice to be on the receiving end of one. Despite it being a passing comment, Zuko couldn’t help but dwell on it as she scanned the pages. The sincerity of it struck him most acutely.

As they went up and down the rows, Zuko toyed with the idea of offering to carry her growing stack of books. Would that come across as polite or suggest that she wasn’t strong enough? Is it hot in here? Would his hands singe the pages? Do they have to be quiet since it was a library? Should he say something?

Luckily, Katara swung around to look at him sheepishly, “If you don’t mind, can I take these home with me?”

“It would be my honor if you took them back to their rightful place.” It was a good thing his father never decided to burn down the library.

Zuko’s eye sockets hurt. He had experienced a lot of kinds of pain during his young life, but this was a new one. He kept trying to look at Katara during dinner without actually looking. He couldn’t put his finger on why he was so interested in looking at her rather than something like his plate of food, but it was hard to balance normal conversation with the desires of his eyes, traitorous things.

It had been a long time since so many people he actually liked were at the dinner table. Of course Hakoda, Sokka, and Katara would have to go back eventually, but he would miss them. If anything, he definitely made some friends.

Uncle tried to get everyone to play pai sho that night, but it only stuck with Hakoda and Sokka. While their strategizing was admittedly impressive, Zuko just didn’t have the patience to keep watching. He noticed that Katara had stepped outside for some air, so he decided to join her.

She sat on the ground looking up at the sky — brilliantly clear with bright stars and an even brighter moon.

“Can I join you?”

“Of course.”

Zuko nodded and settled himself in a similar position to Katara: cross legged, face turned towards the inky night sky. While not the familiar warmth of the sun, the moon really was beautiful. He turned to look at Katara and was struck by the way her profile looked illuminated by moonlight. He noticed that her hand was up by her neck, playing with the necklace she never seemed to be without. She wore a thoughtful expression and Zuko had to take a deep breath before speaking again. Despite the success and geniality of the trip, he could imagine that her family had mixed feelings about coming to visit.

“Katara?”

“Yeah?” She turned to look at him. Another breath.

“How are you?”

She smiled faintly. “I’m alright.” She let her hand drop to her side.

Zuko shuffled into his room, feeling very ready for a nice night of sleep after such a long day.

He removed his crown, his hair falling loosely around his face like a waterfall. When he took off his headpiece, he was really just a teenager, not even an adult yet. He changed into pajamas and laid back on his bed, allowing himself to think teenage thoughts, ponder teenage problems. What was he to do about Katara? Or, how would he confront his feelings for Katara?

Zuko was, in a word, confused. He wasn’t sure what these feelings even were, let alone how to deal with them.

There was no one he could turn to; his options were severely limited. Ask Uncle? Yuck, never. Besides, he’d say something that Zuko wouldn’t be able to puzzle out until after Katara had left, like reading the tea leaves. Sokka was near his age, but he was Katara’s brother. When he asked Zuko for tips on landing “the Fire Nation’s hottest babes,” it was cemented that Zuko could not ask him for anything, really.

And then there was his greatest challenge, Katara herself. He couldn’t force her to return his feelings, and she very well could want nothing to do with him beyond a friendly political alliance. Even if his mother, father, or sister were here, he wouldn’t be able to consult them. No, this was something he had to figure out on his own. This time there was no war to be won, no battle to be planned. This situation was like a fire lily: if it wanted to bloom, he would be pleased. But he couldn’t do much besides water it and hope for it to respond.

But the more he thought about it, the more he was certain that he liked Katara. Like more than a friend. He had a crush on her. He had feelings for her. He like-liked her. Whatever you wanted to call it.

Oh boy.

He woke up from a restful night’s sleep thinking about her. He groaned.

Oh yeah, he was in trouble.

He stretched and got dressed. Might as well go to breakfast with a smile on his face, even if he probably looked like an idiot. While still pleasant, the morning meal was quieter than their other ones. It felt strange to have to say goodbye already. And, oh-so-conveniently, right when Zuko had a better grip on these feelings of his…

But just like that, the visitors’ time in the Fire Nation had come to an end. For now.

Zuko was confident that their visit created a strong foundation to build a better relationship on. They would probably be seeing each other some time soon. And they could send letters, friendly ones that lacked the normal formality of political correspondence. This was far from the last they’d be seeing of each other, something he found great comfort in.

“Thank you, Lord Zuko, it’s truly been a pleasure. It brings me peace of mind to know the Fire Nation is in good hands. We’ll see you again.” Hakoda’s words were brief but Zuko couldn’t deny the wave of validation he felt after hearing them. Maybe he was doing a half decent job after all.

“Now that we’ve been here, don’t be surprised if we pop in every so often. Oops, lost control of the ship and ended up on Zuko’s door step! Don’t blame me, blame the ocean spirit! Thanks, buddy.” That morning’s breakfast spread alone was enough to keep him coming back. And Katara didn’t seem to mind, so all was well, right?

“I’ll keep the rooms ready for you,” Zuko promised while shaking Sokka’s hand. The boy followed his father onto their ship, leaving Zuko to face Katara. As much as she looked forward to returning home, she was glad she was the last one to get on board.

“So…”

“You got everything?”

“Seems like it.”

“That’s good. Even the books?”

“Yup, even the books.”

“Good, good. Well...I’ll see you...later?”

“Definitely. You’ll have to come visit the Southern Water Tribe soon,” Katara said sweetly, playfully.

The promise dancing in her eyes made Zuko feel something undeniable: hope.

A/N: Yes I conveniently had Ozai and Azula take each other out HAHA now I don’t have to deal with them. I don’t know if I’ll post another chapter because I /could/ write about them visiting each other but idk. I’ll mark this complete for now, thanks for reading!! Idk if it’s too long but at this point I’m just like :] Also, if you have a zutara twitter pls lmk/give me account recs!! I want to see more on my tl but it’s hard to find people esp when the zutara search is mostly people arguing lol and hopefully you either have a neutral or positive opinion of sasusaku <3

#zutara #fan fic #my writing #atla

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