#drag ame magic scarf drag him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

auroravictorium · 2 years ago

Text

snow on the beach (pt. 1) (k.b.)

Summary: kaz tries to freeze reader to death, but he's actually just trying to do something nice.

Pairing(s): kaz brekker & reader (semi-stablished relationship)

Word Count: ~2.0k

Warnings: mentions of prior stabbing, allusions to kaz's touch aversion, mentions of a near-death experience, reader thinking about punching kaz because he's hot, kaz trying his best

Genre: fluff w a touch of angst at the end

Author's Note: had to break this beast into a two-parter, otherwise it would end up being way too long. thank you all so much for the love on the midnights series <3 i'm so glad you guys are enjoying this as much as i am while writing it!! tag list has been added at the bottom, so feel free to let me know if you'd like to be added :D happy reading loves!

part two

grishaverse masterlist

There were exactly six inches of distance between you and Kaz's shoulder, a fact you were acutely aware of as you walked down the cramped sidewalk. Cold air gusted off the Fifth Harbor, chilling you through your coat, and you pulled the collar up to stop the wind from reaching its icy fingers down your neck. If you could, you'd burrow yourself into Kaz and leech off his body warmth, but you knew that wouldn't be subtle as you patrolled the harbor. He also wouldn't enjoy the contact, so you kept your hands firmly to yourself.

"I told you to bring a scarf," Kaz muttered just loud enough for you to hear. He limped along without slowing, but you knew he was watching you out of his periphery.

"And I told you that I hate the cold. Why didn't you bring Matthias?" Your teeth chattered, and you tugged your coat tighter around you. If anyone could bear the chilly weather brewing over Kerch, it would be the Fjerdan. But no, Kaz woke you up at dawn and dragged you along on his scan of the harbor. Meanwhile, everyone else was back at the Slat, sleeping or staying warm by the fire. If you were more money-minded, you would charge him interest for the time he was taking trying to freeze you to death.

"Because Matthias hates me," Kaz answered. "And I find you more tolerable." He looked unbothered and unaffected by the cold, aside from a dusting of red across his stupidly handsome cheekbones. You thought about punching him for looking so attractive. It was unfair.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you just wanted to spend time with me." You glanced up at him, a smirk playing on your half-frozen lips. "But I must say, I'd enjoy this time spent together a bit more if I didn't feel like a walking ice block."

Anyone who knew Kaz only as the ruthless, greedy Dirtyhands wouldn't have noticed any change in his face. But you saw his lips twitch in an almost smile, and his eyes glittered with joy. He must've been in a great mood to risk letting his mask slip like that.

"You're impatient," he told you.

"You're cruel," you retorted, turning your eyes to the cloudy sky.

The clouds were thick and dark, blocking most of the morning sunshine. Nasty rain was almost certain to happen, but with the frigid cold, a small hope blossomed in your chest that it might turn to snow. Rain was characteristic of Ketterdam, but snow? It didn't happen often enough for your taste. Ironic, considering your loathing of the cold, but there was something magical about the snow. It reminded you of when you were young and watched it fall through the cracked living room window of your childhood home.

Kaz didn't respond, but amusement radiated off of him. You dared to huddle closer to him for warmth, and you were pleased to discover he didn't seem all that inclined to move away. In fact, Kaz was completely unbothered by your closeness to him and your arm pressing against his. He waited for the terror to claim him as it usually did, but he was surprised and pleased to find that little came. He felt nothing more than a tad nauseated.

"Are we almost done? It's nearly breakfast time." If you didn't get next to a hearth soon, you would refuse liability for any acts of violence you committed.

Kaz again didn't answer, and he remained silent for the next two minutes, even as you huffed and muttered under your breath. You halfheartedly considered pushing him into the road and seeing how well he could dodge a carriage.

After another minute of walking that felt like an hour on your numbing legs, you opened your mouth to ask what was next after the wintry patrol of the harbor. Kaz suddenly stopped walking, and you nearly ran into him. He either didn't notice or didn't care and gripped your elbow to tug you across the rough cobbled street and into an alleyway.

"Couldn't wait for the cold to get me?" you asked, taking in the grimy alley you'd been pulled into. You wouldn't blame Kaz for tiring of your pestering, but you hoped for a more scenic view if your demise was coming. Maybe a nice view of the harbor.

"I realized killing you myself would be more efficient," he answered. His lips quirked up in a smirk.

Kaz pulled you toward a doorway you hadn't initially noticed. Instinctively, you felt for the holster at your waist, but Kaz didn't seem concerned about safety. He was still uncharacteristically cheery, for him at least, and his shoulders were relaxed as he released you in front of the door and rapped his gloved knuckles against the wood three times.

"Has anyone ever told you how you have a way with words?"

You examined the door set into the brick wall: there was nothing special or flashy about it. It was a simple dark oak door leading into a building from the alleyway. You couldn't imagine Kaz making a house call, and walking through the front door on a heist wasn't his style. So why had he brought you here?

The door opened suddenly, and you nearly jumped in surprise. There stood a woman whose perfect tan skin and immaculately styled hair immediately told you that she was Grisha. You examined her more closely, searching for any imperfection, and concluded that she was a Corporalki.

Her brown eyes flicked between the two of you suspiciously before she seemed to recognize the man at your side. She paled under his icy gaze. "Mister Brekker. I didn't- I must have missed your appointment," she said.

"No appointment, Amalia." He jerked his chin toward you. All hints of humor or amusement had disappeared from his voice. "She needs her tattoo. The crow and cup."

You looked up at him in surprise, your lips parting. After two years with the Dregs and almost a year in Kaz's closest circle, you were finally getting your tattoo? Most Dregs got it sooner, but yours had been put off. For a long time, you wondered if it was because you still needed to prove yourself as a valuable member of the Dregs. But here you were on this stranger's doorstep, and Kaz said this to Amalia as if it was a daily occurrence and not something you had been looking forward to for a long time.

You examined his face, looking for any indication of how he felt, but the expressive Kaz from your walk had disappeared and been replaced with the aloof Dirtyhands everyone feared. You nearly shivered at the sight; of course, you weren't afraid of Kaz anymore. But he so rarely wore that look around you that when he did, it reminded you of what he was capable of. He was not just the man who shared gentle touches of hands with you or tapped his cane against your boot when he wanted to remind you that he was there. He could be cold, calculating, and downright cruel when he needed to be.

Amalia nodded and poked her head out of the doorway to peer into the alley. "Of course. Come in." Her eyes flicked around, searching for anyone following before she stepped aside for the two of you.

Kaz led the way inside, ducking into the warm, incense-filled parlor. You trailed behind him, eyes on his neck as you tried to process the news that Kaz had decided not to tell you about. The door shut behind you, and you examined the dim, smoky entryway. One long, threadbare carpet along the creaky floor, an old staircase with a decaying railing, and a few obviously forged paintings on the peeling wallpapered walls.

"A moment alone, please," you murmured to Amalia as she passed. She moved into a room to your left and then shut the door to give the two of you privacy. Turning to Kaz, you raised your brows. "I'm getting my tattoo?"

Kaz turned to face you after removing his coat and throwing it over the rickety handrail. He leaned against the rotting wood and met your gaze. His eyes filled with warmth again as he looked at you; Dirtyhands had receded for now. "It's been two years," he said softly, so Amalia couldn't hear from the other room. His voice was unexpectedly tender, and you stepped closer to him. "It's overdue."

"You usually send new recruits to get theirs alone and see if they back out of it." You met his gaze. Your heart fluttered in your chest as one side of his mouth quirked upward. Every time he smiled, you were grateful you survived a dagger to the chest nearly five months ago and got the opportunity to finally see it.

"You're hardly a new recruit," he responded. Kaz's cheeks were pink, and you couldn't tell if it was from the heat of the parlor or whatever he was thinking. "And if I sent you alone, this wouldn't be much of a surprise."

"You wanted to surprise me?" you said softly. Your heart was going all mushy on you. Damn it. Pull it together. It's just a tattoo. But it was a tattoo that he came with you to get, even though he didn't have to and probably had a million other things to work on.

Kaz scowled. "Don't be ridiculous." He had a reputation to uphold, and here you were, completely correct in accusing him of trying to surprise you. His heart flipped in his chest at the happiness on your face, but he maintained his frown. That happiness would be his ruin, but so be it. He hadn't spent three days by your bedside and walked through the blistering cold waiting for damn snowflakes to fall for nothing. He did it for you, for the smile that threatened to break down every barrier he'd put up around his heart and his emotions after Jordie died.

The icy water of the harbor lapped at his ankles in warning. Stay close to shore, Kaz.

"Kaz Brekker wanted to surprise me. I'm honored," you teased. You stepped closer and beamed up at him, unaware of how much further Kaz's thoughts went than the tattoo. The scowl on his face lightened, and he looked at you with an expression you didn't recognize on him at first.

His eyes flicked down to your lips, and you realized what that look was.

Longing.

Kaz didn't move closer or further away, fighting against the water rising around him as your chests touched. You were so warm, so close, and he could see every beautiful shade of color in your eyes even in the dimness of the parlor. If he could paint, he would cover a million canvases with it to try and replicate it to be kept forever. He would make a miniature to keep in his jacket pocket, close to his heart.

He didn't realize that he'd leaned in until a wave of panic threatened to drown him, and he had to jerk away to get air. He turned away from you, and your heart sank in your chest. Not because he hadn't kissed you, but because it was clear he wanted to. It broke your heart to watch him battle himself and then be furious when he felt like he lost each time. You wished there was more you could do.

You brushed your fingers against his shoulder. It's okay, the gesture told him. His shoulders loosened again. He wasn't aware that he'd bunched them up.

"Let's go inside," you whispered.

He nodded, and for once, Kaz Brekker did not meet your eyes. He thumped his cane against the creaky floorboards and then strode into the room Amalia was waiting for you in.

You took a deep breath, turned your eyes toward the sky and whatever may be there, and followed Kaz into the adjoining room to receive your tattoo.

[part two (coming soon)]

TAGLIST: @b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r

605 notes · View notes

gabriel-xander · 19 days ago

Text

Don't Forget

[Sans x Female!Reader]

31: Would I Fuck Myself? No, My Self-Loathing is Too Strong

♪────✿⁠(⁠✧◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕✧⁠)✿⁠────♪

You tuck in your lips to stop smiling too much, though you are failing miserably. Lo and behold and in the flesh (Flesh? Bones?) was a familiar-looking skeleton.

He seems to have a white t-shirt underneath this grey half-plate armor and blue seams to the shoulder pads. A cobalt-colored scarf wrapped loosely and stylishly around his neck, trailing behind him in an improvised cape. His dark blue pants are tucked into his blue boots, the boots being the same color as his scarf.

His wide, accomplished grin is so round and vaguely heart-shaped. His eyes are beautiful you think–round, cyan saucer fucking eyes with stars designs in them. He looks so much like the Sans on top of you if only rounder with his features, and with a belly that you assume is made with magic and crap???

This is him, this is UnderSwap Sans.

He’s so…

HE’S SO CUTE!!

Your Sans is looking at his other version with a grimace. He doesn’t look so happy about seeing himself wearing a cute armor get-up.

“ah… h-hey, buddy,” Sans stutters, slipping his hold and jerking closer to you, “guh–sorry. hey, do you mind letting us down?”

This would be the perfect time to give your man even more stress.

You lean up and give Sans a small peck on the cheek, rubbing your cheek against his immediately after.

“We don’t spend enough quality time together.” You whisper cheekily.

“oh please not now, [y/n].” He whispers back, already tired and defeated.

Sans looks back down at his mirror self, trying to distance himself from you so he’s not laying on you completely. “buddy? hey? let us down, please?”

UnderSwap Sans (Swap-Sans for “short”) gives you both an incredulous look. Unlike Sans, he’s much more willing to drop his smile to express himself. Though his mouth still doesn’t open to talk, the outer edges around his teeth move? It’s so fucking weird it’s like you’re watching a cartoon.

“WHAT? AND RUIN MY CHANCES OF CAPTURING A HUMAN? THIS IS THE FIRST ONE I’VE MET, THERE’S NO WAY I’LL GIVE THAT UP.”

Jesus, it will never not freak you out that you’re able to understand he’s still speaking in Comic Sans but in all caps without yelling. His voice is the same tone as Sans just less lazy and more enthusiastic. You know, like he’s putting his whole Sanussy into it.

You give him the corporate smile, the one that says: “I think you’re irrational, but I can’t afford to get fired so I’m going to pretend I’m listening to what you’re saying when really I couldn’t give less of a shit.”

You know the one.

“Hey, man. How ‘bout I give my word–nay, I promise that I won’t run away if you get us down.”

Swap-Sans rolls his eyes, “OH, PLEASE. HOW DUMB DO YOU THINK I AM?”

“You really want me to answer that?-”

“-okay! okay! enough!” Sans quickly interrupts.

That was a good save, honestly. You have nothing against poor Swap-Sans, but you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to be so sassy. Swap-Sans gives you the side eye, the silence stretching out for a moment.

With a slight frown, you whisper quietly, “Sans! Do something!”

Your Sans looks at you for a second to think. Luckily for you both, he is a quick thinker.

“look, you got us, alright? but we’re not bad people, and she isn’t a bad human. just let us down from here and we can talk.”

Finally, the other skeleton shrugs, “SIGH. FINE.”

Swap-Sans snaps his fingers in the air and drags that same hand downward. As he does that, a broken, jagged bone appears with a cyan outline. He catches it before it can fall, chucking it in a direction past you. You hear a rope snap–

“WAHH–ACK!!”

“ugh!!”

The net drops you both instantly, Sans falling on top of you and his knee accidentally digs into your inner right thigh. You try repeating in your mind that you prefer it this way instead of hurting Sans with his squishy ass 1HP. The Comic (Your Comic Sans) scrambles off you, dragging you to sit up while simultaneously checking you for injuries.

“crap–are you okay?” He asks you again.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. How about you?” You dust off the snow from his shoulders, thankful that his gloves are still on you to buffer you from the snow.

“peachy all thanks to you. you make a great body pillow. literally.”

“Ooh, okay smooth talker.”

The whole time you two are yapping and helping each other up, Swap-Sans has been staring down Sans. You guys try to ignore it, but it’s not like there was anything else you could distract yourself with.

You step slightly ahead of Sans, crossing your arms over your chest. “You know, this could’ve been super dangerous!”

“WHAT DO YOU-”

“-What if we were some monsters just minding our own business, and we got trapped but you weren’t conveniently here in time to let us go? What if you have forgotten about this trap and a monster was stuck in that for days? You need to think twice about pulling risky stunts like that!”

As you’re chastising him, Swap-Sans kicks his foot to and fro in the snow. His hands are behind his back and he hangs his head in shame.

How embarrassing, getting scolded by a human like this. He can’t even say anything because as much as he hates to admit it, you’re very right. The only reason he caught you and Sans so fast was because he JUST finished setting up that trap.

Dang…

Sans, meanwhile, is quite impressed.

“Now,” You put your hands on your hips, “Congratulations, you’ve captured a human. AKA, me. BUT! Hear me out. What if… We became best friends instead?”

Sans is looking at you with confusion.

Swap-Sans is also looking at you with confusion.

“I know I sound crazy, but let me cook. I’d like to consider myself a decent human, but how would you–” You gesture to the skeleton in the scarf, “–ever know that if you immediately turn me in? What if! You and I legit became the best-est of friends, but you would never know that if you don’t give me a chance!”

Swap-Sans deadpans, “IS THIS JUST SO I DON’T TURN YOU IN TO THE CAPTAIN OF THE ROYAL GUARD?”

Confidently, you answer: “Yes.”

“…”

“anyway,” Sans awkwardly starts, trying to salvage this situation, “we’re not looking for trouble. the truth is, we’re on a mission to find something, and once we do, you’ll never see us again.”

Damn, this is not going very well for you guys right now. That kind of sucks because it doesn't have to be this complicated. Sans made it very clear you can’t let these people know you’re from an AU but it's not looking good for you so far. You’re afraid you might have to out yourselves if this keeps going.

You zone back into the conversation, unsure if you regret it immediately or not. They’re already going back and forth with each other how no, Sans isn’t an evil clone, but he’s also not going to share where he’s from. Swap-Sans is retaliating with something along the lines of: “THAT’S HOW I KNOW YOU’RE EVIL BECAUSE I’M GOOD AND I WOULD NEVER LIE.”

Sans is barely holding it in.

This is pretty funny, but you should probably jump in now before Sans loses it.

Hm. You wonder if a magical skeleton can have an aneurysm.

“You know what I can’t stop thinking about since you’ve said it?” You make a thinking pose since you like looking and feeling sophisticated. “I can’t be the first human you’ve ever met, there’s no way. How did you know I was human if you never met one, to begin with?”

Swap-Sans tense up with wide eyes, caught red-fucking-handed with his pants down and his cock out.

Sorry.

Anyway, Sans also realizes his counterpart’s mistake. If Swap-Sans has taken Papyrus’ role in this AU, then there’s no way he should know what humans look like just like the original Papyrus. Papyrus only knew when you first met because Sans told him about you beforehand.

So strictly speaking…

Swap-Sans sighs dramatically, rolling his eyes, “OKAY, FINE. I ADMIT–YES, THERE IS A HUMAN CHILD HERE IN THE UNDERGROUND.”

Shit, so Frisk–Wait, no. Chara is here already! You wonder where exactly you are in the timeline, and what run this is. That leaves you curious about the Frisk in your AU, and where the hell they are.

“BUT COMPARED TO THEM, YOU’RE SO…” Swap-Sans makes a “big” motion vertically as if measuring your height, “YOU KNOW? SO I THOUGHT, SURELY YOU MUST BE A BAD HUMAN… RIGHT? I MEAN, CAPTAIN ALPHYS SAID ALL HUMANS ARE EVIL, BUT THAT LITTLE ONE WAS NOT. SO BY PROCESS OF ELIMINATION, THAT MEANS THE BIGGER HUMANS ARE.”

Well…

You think of your past and the fucked up shit you used to do before meeting Kōrenki, and are unable to say anything to defend yourself. You’re not that way anymore and you’ve fought hard to be the person you are now.

But your LV is 10 despite everything.

Your Level of Violence, your will, and your capacity to bring yourself to hurt others.

It’s a 10.

Isn’t that the LV Frisk has in the No Mercy run by the time they fight Undyne? Of course that’s including their ExP. But you are at a 10 without any of that. You are… what? Naturally a violent human? Is that who you are?

Maybe Swap-Sans is right-

“nah, nah. you got it all wrong,” Sans waves a hand dismissively, “she’s one of the coolest humans i’ve ever met. seriously, you’ll never meet anyone like her.”

You smile at him appreciatively, though taken aback to find he’s already looking at you (again) with that dreamy gaze of his like you’re the Sun. Ugh, so sweet yet so much pressure and responsibility to be the one who someone depends on for happiness.

Swap-Sans doesn’t pick that up though, mainly focusing on what Sans’ words mean for you. He doesn’t dwell on this for long though, have coming to a conclusion rather quickly.

“HMM… HOW ABOUT THIS,” Swap-Sans puts his hands on his sassy hips, “YOU TWO COME WITH ME FOR NOW AND STAY IN OUR CAPTURE ZONE WHILE I CALL THE HUMAN OVER. IF THE HUMAN CONFIRMS YOU’RE A GOOD HUMAN, THEN I’LL BELIEVE YOU AND LET YOU GO.”

“Yes, that’s perfect,” You agree immediately with a smile.

You give Sans a look, hoping he’ll understand to just go with it. Considering his ability to read expressions is still as amazing as ever, he relaxes and nods with an easy smile.

“THEN IT IS AGREED,” Swap-Sans holds his hands out, “NOW, GIVE ME YOUR HANDS. I MUST RESTRAIN YOU SO YOU DON’T GET INTO ANY FUNNY BUSINESS.”

Sans steps forward with a strained look, “uh, you don’t need to do that. ‘sides, this girl is really strong. she’ll just break free anyway.”

You put your hand on your chest, “Aw, you remembered my sleeper-build.”

“how can i forget when you picked up the entire couch by yourself the other day to vacuum? you carried it too for a solid minute without breaking a sweat.”

“You were taking too long to help.”

“i literally asked for 30 seconds to put on my shoes.”

“30 seconds is a long time in my cleaning schedule, bone boy.”

“ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT.” Swap-Sans interrupts with another eye-roll but a poorly hidden smile from amusement, “SO NO RESTRAINTS FOR THE HUMAN. THEN YOU MUST WALK RIGHT BESIDE ME.”

You shrug with a smile, “Sounds good to me. Lead the way, bone boy number 2.”

Swap-Sans huffs and starts walking. You follow quickly after with growing amusement, looking back to make sure Sans doesn’t try ditching you. You exchange looks for a moment; he doesn’t seem super pleased with the situation at hand, but you are enjoying every fucking second of this.

Taglist:

@lemonboy011

@adriixboo

@fluffyart5000

@fetusbaconegg

#fanfiction #reader insert #female reader #don't forget fanfiction #sans undertale #sans x reader #undertale #sans #underswap #underswap sans #swap sans #swap au

9 notes · View notes

cq-studios · 5 months ago

Note

Do you have any Skuld headcanons/story ideas you’d like to share?

Ooh okay, rapid fire Skuld headcannons

She’s in the same Union as Player (Anguis) and a different one from Ephemer (Unicornis) as per novels

She’s originally from the world that becomes Arendelle

She was 15 at the end of KHUX, was 13 when the Keyblade War occurred, and was 11 when she became a Keyblade Weilder

Lesbian Skuld for the win

She strikes me as someone who would like Strawberry flavoured candy. Why? I dunno

She and Ephemer has similar jackets because they bought them to match when they were in their party together

She and Ephemer (and and the rest of her party really) are also both banned from the Moogle Shop because, when they went on missions together, they would have competitions on who could find the most ingredients, then sell them all to the Moogle afterwards without buying anything. It did not like that, and they were banned for life lol

I think she and Ephemer also had a half joke competition going on about who would end up being the tallest (they were basically the same height when they started this), technically Brain would’ve won because they ended up dragging him into it (when he was also around the same height as them… he ends up significantly taller than both relatively soon after in my mind lol), but if it had just stayed between the two of them Skuld would’ve claimed victory by about 2 or 3 inches

If I were to choose one of the three medal classes for her to be most proficient in it would be strength. I think after strength she would prioritize magic, leaving speed in last place. Overall though, I think she’s decently balanced

Alright, I’m sure there’s more but that’s what I got off the top of my head lol

As for story ideas I have at least four fic WIPs I’ve been working on on and off. Those being:

Unlikely Friend - A multi chapter fic where Subject X (Skuld) tries to befriend Ienzo that I should probably work on (lol). It has two chapters already up on AO3 if you’re interested.

Ghosts of the Past - A fic where Subject X (Skuld) ends up in Zootopia followed by a certain red scarfed ghost who claims to be her long lost friend. I made a post a while ago talking about this one if you’d like to learn more.

Meanwhile in the Realm of Darkness - A fic (that might end up being multi chapter depending on how motivated I am) where Subject X (Skuld) ends up in the realm of darkness and Aqua finds her. They end up bonding and her and Aqua try to put together pieces of her past as they travel through the fallen worlds (most notably the three from Fragmentary Passage, since Skuld is likely to recognize those from missions).

Party Days - A multi chapter fic from Skuld’s perspective about when Skuld and Ephemer were in a party together. Just a lot of the two of them being goofy and going on missions and stuff. Yay friendship! lol

And I have one that is just ideas I haven’t really expanded on since I wrote it down. Which is the Boiling Isles AU, where Subject X (Skuld) ends up in the Owl House world sometime around the beginning of season 2. It’s not super developed and I wrote my notes for it right after finishing season 2. I don’t really feel the need to write it out anymore but what I had was fun lol

(Luz was so hyped to have another human who could do magic around and I’m also pretty sure I made this AU purely because I thought it’d be funny if they tried to do the memory thing where they pull pictures out of their ears but because Skuld is from a different world they just end up pulling out broken chains lol)

#this took me way too long my brain is not going right now lol #I’m gonna try and work on Unlikely Friend a bit now actually #I’ve been neglecting it recently and it’s been like over half a year since it’s been updated #so maybe another chapter soon (real hard maybe lol)#(I’ll try lol)#kh skuld #khux #kingdom hearts #sometimes i think about khux #sometimes i think about my khux fics

13 notes · View notes

immoralimmortals · 3 months ago

Text

A Song With Ten Names

Chapter 31: Sally's Song

Chapter 1 ☆ Next chapter ☆ AO3 ☆ Featured song playlist

Summary of chapter: What’s so wrong with Kakuzu playing around? It’s not like her affection will last. Nothing ever does.

Author's Note: I have a very strong attachment to this song. I try not to be *super* 1-1 with my personal experiences to what the reader analog "Takara" is supposed to be, but this one can't be helped. I love this song, it's the first song outside of church that I memorized, first song I sang for the purpose of wanting it to sound good. If Sally's Song has no fans, that means I am dead.

I really, really admire the Fiona Apple cover of this song especially, but for whatever reason it was removed from Spotify, apparently a couple of years ago. The rendition added to the fic playlist will be a music box instrumental by Music Box Rockstar. (Forgive me if I change my mind later).

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

And does he notice my feelings for him?

And will he see how much he means to me?

I think it's not to be

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Dappling light is a lot more awe-striking when you’re relearning how to see the world, the way it blots over each thing like flecks on a watercolor painting and makes you reevaluate its shape. The sun isn’t visible right now where the performer is, instead diffusing its rays through the fading foliage in this magical way. It’s fascinating, really, how in autumn so many plants seem to give one last hurrah by bleeding out all their bright colors before it’s time to die. There’s a similar reason why the performer is now stuck with her once favorite dress and sweater.

She wears both now, of course, as there is nothing else in her wardrobe. In the springtime with Hidan and Kakuzu’s initial company, it was quite fitting! White with pink and blue detailings, sort of like flowers fresh from the melting snow. Summer managed to fit still, sweater removable and sunhat appropriate. But now in fall, the warming hues of crimson, orange, gold, and brown make her miss a scarf she used to have with matching colors. The fiery rainbow refracts in her eyes until a cool-toned finger gently brushes up and down her arm. Kisame always oozes with a strange, contagious sort of vibrancy even though he doesn’t bounce off the walls like Tobi nor raise his voice like Hidan. It’s subtle, and though his color is blue, it’s an attitude that suits red maple leaves and yellowing morning glory vines that climb up old, moss-sodden lattice.

“Told you it’d be nice to get out of the place,” he asserts, having figuratively dragged her from bed for this. And she beams up at him, as though the woman is bone-tired, he is still right.

“Hey!"

…Someone shouts to get their attention. A head of spiked hair perks up with double the attentiveness for his ward who can hardly blink, shifting his shoulders to turn them both around. Once it's had, Hidan purses his lips and gives the fish a judging look; he lets it sink in before putting in his two cents. "You shouldn't be carrying her everywhere.”

The privacy is quickly shattered, the interrupting voice reminding the performer of how, exactly, she even managed to go outside: that Kisame only got her here by picking her up and taking the lady himself. He’s so strong that it became second nature for a few minutes, and the silly thing entirely forgot that she is a grown-ass woman that can suddenly be held like a toddler. Mute, she instantly shrinks closer to his cloak— which he now dons over his indigo tank top with the chiller weather— a redness on her cheeks. The taller man blinks with a frown at his sudden opponent with gray hair and righteous attitude. "It's better than her staying in one spot for too long, isn’t it?”

Hidan effectively scrunches one half of his face, corner of his mouth pulling up and the right eye squinting. He’s seen her move on her own; why not just let her? It doesn’t make sense! Will she forget how?! “Then have her walk!”

A whimper is all she’s got, hiding more into the dark cloth at the shark’s neck. Kisame defends, a snarl curling his upper lip: "She's enjoying it."

The shirtless grim reaper stares long and hard to verify this to no avail, rolling his eyes back up to the fellow Akatsuki. "She looks unhappy, asshole."

"Yeah, now that you're scolding her,” the swordsman parries, holding her just a little bit closer as if the arm of his cloak can shield the poor woman from misunderstanding cruelty. “Can you either get with the program or shut up?"

"What?!” Hidan, of course takes offense, redirecting his attention to the one he’s actually worried for. “Girlie, hey! Look over here!" To Kisame’s dismay, ever so slowly…she abides, and he notes the anxiety in her eyes. "You enjoying that?" A flush in her cheeks...but she nods. There is no way to deny that this is oh so very wonderful. The priest blinks twice in disbelief. “W—... really?”

Hidan’s double down is about to knock her off her feet (metaphorically, too):

"Then— then let me carry you, too!"

Kisame’s response is immediate: "...What the hell?" he blinks back with his own shock. His shaming doesn’t work on a man who has no shame to speak of.

"If you get to, so do I,” Hidan argues, folding his arms matter-of-fact. “Simple as that!"

...By technicality, that is true. The kiri-nin looks to her attached to his side for approval or lack thereof once more. "You don't have to say yes...” he reminds under his breath.

But the consideration is heavy, her soft eyes glancing over to the silver-haired man standing on this path outside their house. Is Hidan only asking because he's jealous? Does he even want to? They haven't really talked since they��you know. But the firmness there... Regardless of motive, it does seem to be a sincere want. But she has her own, in spite of how she misses him: "I don't...want to be a bother..."

To that he frowns, and his hands lower onto his waist in a sure, somewhat annoyed stance. "Yer not." His half-lidded stare alone dares anyone to ask why he wants this, including her.

Unable to formulate an acceptance as an apology...she just nods up to the shark to abide by the other man’s wishes. Kisame reluctantly, awkwardly passes her to him, muttering something about not fucking dropping her, and she’s unsure what to do with her own arms in this exchange—

"Come ‘ere."

So Hidan does the actions for her, careful fingers with a ring like dusty dry blood adjusting her hands to loop around his neck and the back of her knees to go over his cloaked arm. The way he looks at her...hooded eyes so close to her own... Geez, it's a bit more believable Kisame is so strong, being so very tall and less human looking. Hidan is just... a guy. But she gives him no problem whatsoever...!

She remembers abruptly how heavy his scythe was. Oh.

…

...

"Okay..." Hidan asks the swordsman after glancing her up and down, "Now what?"

It's Kisame's turn to raise an eyebrow this time. "...What do you mean,” he asks flatly.

"The fuck do you do next?"

Kisame squints so much harder that his actual eyes aren't visible, merely small black gills over a widening grimace. He is starting to regret this pass-off. "You...hold her...?"

"I'll do it, un."

Before Hidan can argue his place, a blonde takes her into his own sure, smooth grasp. Oh dear. He's even smaller than Hidan but picks her up like she's lighter than a kitten...! It shuts her up into pure, unadulterated silence with a stare as big as two dinner plates. "Hey, darling." The artist blinks, smiling still but brow curling, shy girl saying nothing to help alleviate tension. "...What are we carrying you for...?" Deidara inquires.

"That’s what I was asking! Now let her down, okay?"

"Why?” Deidara scoffs at Hidan, backing half a step away as the latter ninja approaches to grab her back. “You were the one holding her, un."

"You didn't ask!"

"...Did I need to?"

"Yes," both fish and Jashinist confirm in aggravated unison.

Ohhh my gosh. Her face hurts from blushing so much, eyes from being so wide. Kisame takes it as his cue and he tentatively steps up, reaching out to take her back from this problem he incidentally started. "Let me...just—...” he stammers, ready to rescue from a social faux pas. “Come here, Takara-hime—"

"Swoop!"

With a flash of black and orange, an unexpected fourth man slips between them and flees, pastel-dressed prize in his arms. He trots away with the speed of a child stealing from a candy store, reaction stagnated by shock just until his long, trailing scarf is out of sight:

“TOBI!”

“TOBI?!”

“TOBI, YOU GODDAMN COCKSUCKER!!!”

The chase begins, a whine at the back of the kidnappee’s throat that wavers with each bounce of his feet. “Heehee!” he laughs, “Takara-chan is mine, mine mine mine!” the jester teases, shit-eating grin surely behind the spiral he wears as he revels in the tight grip lovely fingers make into his clothes. The swift shinobi weaves around one corner of the house, speeding through a pile of leaves which scatter about like Tobi had stepped on coals of a fire, flying sparks and embers that crunch instead of crackle. “If—” he huffs an exaggerated breath, “—They can’t decide who has you—” Breath. Another corner of the house is rounded. “—Then—” Breath. He stomps through a couple-days-old puddle, water droplets splashing cold against her legs. “It’s gonna— be me!”

The thief twists around one more side of the ancient home lined in dead vines like a gold trim only to be caught by surprise. Abrutptly, he stops to a halt, seeing something before his dear Takara-chan can register the new danger.

“Oh?” One...Two...Three. Surrounded!

Kisame is grinning to the left, Hidan is frowning to the right, and a fuming Deidara is directly behind, sliding open the back door with Tobi’s name cursing from the back of the tongue within his head. She’s not even the one running and this is all making the traveler lose her breath. How the hell did they move so fast...?! It’s only been all of, what, ten fucking seconds?!

"Oh— guess you got me!” He's playing, the fellow performer can still tell. Something's up his sleeve. Okay...so what does that mean—? “Catch!"

It means she's not ready for what's next, not all.

“AAAAAAH-!”

The woman screams as she’s tossed unceremoniously up to the clouds, feeling the force of gravity first in the way that her body attempts to break it, climbing up and up and up with the power of his throw. A couple of times on roller coasters have prepared her instincts well: her stomach sinks in anticipation for the rest of her, just as the acceleration slows and the drop is about to begin.

“AAA—” … And she waits for a fall that does not come. “...Oh…?” The first thing in her vision is the bright blue sky in contrast to the vast forest. Wow...what a view. It’s open like she’s high above—

—Oh. Oh Jesus. Is she really two stories up in the air? TOBI?!

A heavy, heavy sigh is heard from an open window nearby, practically behind her ear. It wakes her up to look down, first at the guys staring up at her from the ground, then a bit closer to her own self. Black threads wrap around her body, around from her back and then loop over and over around her legs; it feels as secure as, well, if you somehow warped metal straight out of the flame to a custom fit just for you. The sight of herself is enough to swallow further shrieks, much to the relief of he who has rescued her from such reckless affairs.

Kakuzu leans down, open fist outside the threshold of the window pane with threads weaving out of rips in his skin that keep her in place. Menacingly, his glower rolls down to the ants below. "You...stupid motherfuckers."

"IT WAS TOBI, JACKASS!" Hidan quickly accuses, pointing to the culprit. A growl and a death glare is all it takes for the masked man to whine like a scared puppy. That’s good enough to appease Kakuzu. For now.

Ironically enough, it's his turn in this ridiculous game: "Come on, then..."

The three watch as the woman flies back into the house, a small eek on the back of her tongue and window promptly shut behind her with a slam. A moment of silence, all four men staring up to where she was spirited away.

…

“He’s going to kill you, you know,” Hidan states without any urgency, glancing over to the orange spiral. “He’s kind of famous for that.” And though Tobi fakes shaking in his boots very, very convincingly, everyone else still thinks he’d deserve it.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

What will become of my dear friend?

Where will his actions lead us then?

Although I'd like to join the crowd

In their enthusiastic cloud

Try as I may, it doesn't last

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

What a mess, Kakuzu thinks. He exhales, fully undressed besides a pair of pants, no face covering nor shirt to cover his unnerving stitches. Thanks, Tobi. A small “oof” is muttered as the woman is set down on his bed without a second glance, man himself turning around to retain what little respect he has left. It's an opportunity for the performer to briefly gain her bearings. Kakuzu’s room, she vaguely recalls. Really has been inside it only once— no, not even inside . She’s only seen into it less than a handful of times. Frankly, it’s pretty...ordinary. It’s clean. It at first seems to lack hobbies. No piles of clay, no sword to polish (re-wrap??? Samehada is a stick of bandages, after all), no circle to pray in. But it becomes apparent that what he has instead of things to humor him is...finances. Receipts and bills are nicely organized or are in a pile waiting to be, a bingo book of wanted criminals open that perhaps may promise enough funds to keep this makeshift horrid fucking family alive another day. A couple of briefcases are neatly lined next to his desk, metal and heavy looking as if to transport valuables.

Her head shifts side to side. Grumbling, taking no heed, the treasurer has walked over to his closet in search of attire to make him better suited to be around a lady. He forgets so easily that the strangest thing about him isn't just the stitches but what they lead to on his backside…

"What...?"

Thinking this is about the metal threads, he looks over his shoulder as she finally looks to him and speaks. “They—” he begins. But, oh. Oh, no, it isn’t those her eyes are locked on; the threads have slunk back into his hollowed body already. What he sees, instead, is her pointing squarely at the masks. There's four of them, different animals and colors.

"Are those...attached to you?"

Ah. Right. Damn . He exhales yet again, not moving so she gets a good long look, ogles to her heart's content at the freak he is, get it out of the way. Guess it was inevitable she find out. "Yes." Then he reaches forward, a tank top chosen off the shelf with an open back for these creatures. It’s more comfortable, for one, and for another makes it easier to fight if they don’t have to pop through and ruin a perfectly good shirt. Never can be too prepared. Not too fast as to not scare, he turns his front back around despite his bare chest facing her. She looks so small, somehow, head hunched down and eyes angled up as she sits upon the edge of his own bed. How do they always get off the wrong foot when they don't even try?

"I'm sorry." Because of course she is. There’s footsteps coming up the stairs.

One thing is sure: "Don't be."

A thread drifts away from his bicep like an autonomous, thin tentacle, locking the door just in time to hear the nob shift futility and Hidan knock ever so impatiently to be let in. His head turns sharply, a snarl on his face. She notes how the way his eyes scrunch up is such a common expression above his usual mask; does he always frown like that when they do? "Give the girl ten damn minutes without your nonsense!"

Vague but clearly angry response muddles through the closed door, but Kakuzu's expression stays and so does his order. A moment of silence and gradually the arguing fades, something about promising to be back later. The hunter’s tense brow relaxes and so do the corners of his lips, and red and green eyes stop bulging. In. Out. He catches his breath and turns boiling rage to a simmer. For her sake. Calm down, for her sake.

The stitches on his face move with his cheeks, she can tell from where she grips the edge of the bed; they are, most certainly, not just burns or scars or face paint. His eyes catch hers, a challenge in them that regains a sliver of the anger he managed to beat back, daring her to call him a monster. Unnatural. Hideous. It’s all true, just get it over with. A flash of something else was before that, though, on his face. It's an emotion that feels familiar in her own chest.

Despite his expectations, she reaches out to him, slowly raising her wrist with a begging, upward-facing palm. He doesn't flinch, eyes starting at the woman’s fingertips, trailing up her arm and to her face.

"...What?"

How can she say it? Both palms, now, come back, gesturing together for him to come here. Out of pure confusion and desire to know what the hell she means, Kakuzu simply obeys.

Shaky hands go to the brown arm as he grunts with the unexpected contact, even as her touch is more gentle than he could have imagined. Maybe even especially so. As she sits on his bed, one hand goes under his palm to steady it in place while the other wanders up to explore, both visually and tactilly...

The bounty hunter…has two tattooed bands on his forearm. At first she assumed that's where they come from, but no, the actual stitches are higher up, unmistakable as the source of his eldritch-seeming threads. She traces up to the shoulder, then under his chin. There's even more of these lines on his torso, seen far, far too easily as he hasn’t yet slipped on his top in this unexpected intermission, and she can tell they all lead like train tracks to the masks embedded into his latissimus dorsi. Her eyes consume him, taste him, know him. She's far from the first to witness him like this, in battle or otherwise, and so he ignores the sense of novelty that washes over him and behaves with expectations that are tried and true. Something Kakuzu and his musician have in common is how they’ll insult themselves with the truth before you can turn it against them first.

"...I know. I know what I look like." But she acts like she hasn't . She's seen him before, though, the times she barged in at the peak of midnight...why is it different now?

Sometimes trauma heightens the senses, lets you take in things better than before. The quivering touch of the performer moves to reach further upon his skin, still. In awe, fingertips barely brush against his chest and most unbelievably, he doesn't stop her.

Tears well up on her eyes, which to his surprise turn up to his own instead of staying locked lower down on his ugly, deformed self.

"Does it hurt?"

...That’s not something he's been asked before. IF it hurt, yes, when “it” happened decades ago. If it does when hearts pump out of his back to attack and spew the elements at his enemies. Yes and yes, answers to both as well as if others have been so brave as to inquire directly to the bastard himself. But does he hurt now , merely existing with this curse? It's been so long with the aches stitched into him that he's forgotten, so he searches the numbness under his skin for what the answer may be.

"...Yes," he discovers, despite how it might make her cry. He knows she likes the truth. "...But it's better than before,” Kakuzu softens. In several ways. Better off with than without them. Better off than being fully human. Better off than being dead.

He sits down next to her and unbelievably, after rubbing the saltwater from her face, this woman shifts. Yes, yes, he is not mistaken; this woman now crawls onto his lap.

And he lets her.

All hearts pounding in discordant, unmatched pulses, he lets her. Legs wrap around his side, thighs seated atop his own. She trusts him. Even after everything, even seeing him like this...—? Oh so delicately, with a hesitance that draws her away before curiosity pulls her back in, this soothing lady traces the metal woven into him. The way he is… It reminds her of something. Something distinct. A visceral sort of memory, one from long, long ago…

…Kakuzu notices before she does that his performer is humming.

It's a tune both sweet and melancholy, befitting a creature like her and somehow, too, the way she approaches a beast like him. His gaze softens, lips no longer a stern, stretched line, and he drinks her wonder in. Kakuzu missed the songs that used to always tinge her voice, and this is the first it’s come back since she has come back home to him, even if so, very small.

“...Oh…!” The woman pulls back, somehow both after too long and far too soon, and she...smiles up at him. This…who he is…makes her happy? “...You remind me of...a rag doll.”

…

Dark brown hair drifts past his face as he savors that nickname, elaborates to himself on the implications. He’s been called it before, yeah...usually just before deciding to detach the person by their arteries. How can it seem so... kind from those lips? So adoring…? She has an answer, and it’s silly just like her.

“When I was little…” the performer tries to explain with stilted words, as plainly as she can so as to not confuse, “...I loved a story. It had a rag doll...who...stuffed herself with leaves.”

The Frankenstein's Monster stays silent, does so regardless of if there’s more for her to add. The slightest, softest inhale and the humming begins again...this time closer to the singing the Akatsuki miss, just without words. Down, up, and up...down… Down, up, and up...down… Lovely indeed, whatever it is, even if simple and bouncy. It was, after all, one of the first melodies she memorized on her own volition. Idly, she traces him again, finding a spot just at his collarbone and right at her line of sight. The threads are stiffer than they look, less like woven fabric and more like surgical staples. How do they move with such lithe grace, so little effort?

As she ponderers this question, one of his own springs off Kakuzu's tongue like a diving board.

“...You never sang when you were alive?” To his relief, the humming doesn’t stop; it’s such a piece of her, this melody that she can do it without thinking. A free hand wipes her eye again, and despite the nature of everything, her tiny smile does not waver nor flinch away as she answers.

“...I wanted to,” she murmurs after a moment, voice light and wispy much the same way as she seems next to someone rough like himself. “I wanted to be a singer...a musician…” A guitarist, a keyboard player, a...star. A performer. “I...learned...to stop doing it...just because I felt I had to, and started doing it...for fun by myself.”

Eyes close, and she tries to identify these marks on him with touch alone, tries to narrow down exactly what he feels like skin on skin. Kakuzu wonders if she can feel how his pulse is stronger than one any normal person should have.

“You could have been.” And she is now, he reminds himself. Or at least she will be once this nonsense is said and done and she can get back to a nondescript civilian life. But...she shakes her head.

“Too scared,” the woman says, “Too shy.”

“How do you know that? Did you try?” Perhaps foolish to challenge; the thing she is surest in besides the persistent strength of humanity is the failures of her own making.

“I had the chance...I was offered...to be in a play…” The smile widens, showing teeth and hiding a grimace. “...I was too little and too scared. And I never…”

…

She doesn’t continue that thought.

“Why didn't you try again? You were just a child, right? Children are allowed to be wrong.” But as soon as he says it, he knows this isn’t true. He knows from experience. So does she. A long, painful silence...and then her eyes open. The humming continues, sweet and sad. She reaches up into his hair, delicately, to see if it feels as smooth as it looks.

"She falls in love with someone...who can't see his demise coming,” the woman explains of the rag doll with leaves. His brown hair is silky and soft. “She tries to help. In the end...it gets her in trouble. He realizes she's in danger and saves her." Kakuzu raises a brow, stitches at his mouth exaggerating a purse of his lips.

"What monster pairs with a living rag doll?" And to his surprise, she beams once more:

"A skeleton!"

...Oh. He grunts, his way of chuckling without being so vulnerable as to give off actual mirth, eyes hooding and smirk forming. "I know what you're going to say, Takara...that that’s like us."

The combing stops, big eyes blinking their befuddlement as the curled fingers pull away. "Excuse me?"

...Oh, dammit. She has never even seen Hidan's ritual form, and so Kakuzu feels his face flush at making the connection himself. Goddammit… As if Hidan could ever save him. It's always the other way around...

"Am...am I...a...a skeleton?" she stutters, not getting it.

"No,” he cuts in sharply. Too sharp, in fact— “I mean— ...never mind."

…

The now free hands of the woman fidget index fingers, pressing tip against tip. "There's another character...that's filled with bugs," she adds, as if this is helpful in any way whatsoever.

"…" Kakuzu answers, gaze narrowed and mouth in a straight line.

"I like bugs."

And so he exhales yet-fucking-again. "Takara, you're very fortunate I happen to be tolerant of the dumb shit you say." Hidan owes him for that, too, really.

"Oh." The woman on his lap doesn't need to say: she's sorry. She gets shy and withdrawn and her hands drift even further away. Exasperated, Kakuzu takes them into his own grasp.

"...But it's better than you never talking again."

He can't touch her with his own hands; surely he's too rough, both literally and figuratively. The threads come instead, strange and cold and inhuman. It only makes her remember what it was like to hold him by the fingers, though, as she did once when Kakuzu taught her how to read the stars.

"...Can I ask you something rude?"

What a weird thing to ask. He shrugs, just barely so not to shake her too much up and down as she sits on him. Is this fine? Is she safe so close to him? Is it proper for a man to let her do it? And yet he can’t bring himself to pull them apart. "Alright."

"Why is your skin... so...?"

It isn’t a sigh this time as he releases air from heavy lungs, but a chuckle. You can tell it comes from deep in his chest, even if quiet. "It'd be rude if you ignored it. That's just how I am now."

She blinks again, lashes fluttering. "You weren't... always...?"

"No. I was someone else a long time ago."

"Like me?"

…

He thinks about this, long and hard. This girl does, after all, remind him of who he used to be. So what does that mean of her before? He recalls her mentions of a life before a death, an existence riddled with agony, debt, and servitude. A broken loyalty to a system that felt nothing for her, and waking up to abandon it by any means necessary. …So, perhaps, they have switched lives. Silly boy to serious man. Serious woman to silly girl. Funny how life works out. They both had a death of sorts in between to make it happen, and here they are.

"Sure. Like you, I guess."

"Thank you," she responds inexplicably, despite the implications he sees, an emotion so bright dripping from her mouth like honey from a hive. There isn’t even a blush on her face; with the next action, it’s all whimsy and instinct and no thought whatsoever. It has to be, to be so silly.

The woman leans up and presses a kiss on his forehead, for once bare of the headband marked with his betrayal. A sensation tingles down his own cheeks, down his neck, into the depths of five dark hearts. Despite it all...he feels joy. It makes him tense up. Alas, this is so easy to pick up on with how close they are, and she jerks back immediately, crawling off his lap just as quickly as she got on. Now her face is red.

"Sorry…! I—... Sorry."

Sorry... That’s the right word for giving a guy like him the time of day, the warmth from a sixth blood-pumping organ somehow tied inseparably to his quintet. "It's fine,” he responds in calculation, choosing not to tell her how much he enjoyed it. “Just...be careful who you do that to. Alright?"

Instead of asking why, she simply says, unable to look him in the face: "I'm bad…" And calmly— oh so calmly compared to a moment ago— he retorts, his own voice murmured and already longing for her song.

"I didn't say that."

...

"I meant it,” the taki-nin elaborates, both as a comfort and an admonition. “We're all like this, Takara. ...If not outside like me then on the inside. Keep your wits about you. Save your affection for those who are deserving. It isn’t you that’s wrong, here. If someone has to be called 'bad'…" Childish worldview as it is, to be so black and white, the answer is undeniable. “...It’s us. They threw you, for god’s sake.”

"But...I...—"

"And if you can't," he adds selfishly, and the next is a whisper. "At least be tactful about it." The scariest part about what happens next is that he does, indeed, mull it over before it’s done. The outcomes are considered, the details poured over, and the fool still does exactly as he's warned her of.

A press of his world-weary lips comes from out of nowhere yet arrives so, so gently, just as soon pulling back before she can even tell what's happened. And though he isn’t brimming with sunshine like Takara can, this old man still can’t hide he’s making a silly, silly choice. "...Duckling."

And that’s it. There’s the slightest smirk on his face as he slinks backwards off the bed, visible until Kakuzu turns around and throws the signature cloak of his ilk over leathery-textured shoulders. The traveler gapes, what she thought as her mistake now his confirmation—

“Oi!” another guilty pleasure beckons impatiently behind Kakuzu’s locks. The bounty hunter huffs, allowing the woman one last opportunity to see a widening grin before the mask slips back on.

“Perfect timing.”

Before she knows it, another, paler set of arms come around the performer, Hidan complaining with his chin upon her head of her terrible, unforgivable absence for all of ten minutes. It really is over so very, very quickly. It has to be, lest the choices grow poorer and poorer between a half-naked man and a lady not even back to herself.

But he hums the lonely rag doll’s song back to himself all the same in private the rest of this day, up through dinner, in the bath, hell— maybe even in his sleep. It somehow sounds just fine on his old, gravely tongue as a mind re-walks the life it’s led just to work up to something as stupid and risky as this. Dead leaves fall down past the window where the zombie scooped her into his waiting lap, and he wonders what it would be like to stuff them underneath his patchwork skin.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

And will we ever end up together?

No, I think not, it's never to become

For I am not the one

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

#kakuzu x reader #hidan x reader #kisame x reader #obito x reader #akatsuki x reader #deidara x reader #aswtn fic #songfic #btw there are hints of hidan x kakuzu and i will evilly elaborate later

10 notes · View notes

spot-of-tea · 3 months ago

Text

Breaking curses.

Okay so I was recently thinking about some of my past au's and I was specifically thinking about all the way I'd come up with to break or alter Zeref's curse. So let's take a look shall we.

Obligatory putting in a line break because this will be long

Okay so first off we have the only version (so far) that I've actually written down.

Death.

So essentially Zeref still dies like he does in canon which breaks his curse, except he doesn't stay dead. The version of this your most likely familiar with is tswwid were Zeref comes back to life through a failed reincarnation leading to his soul becoming entwined with his nephew (an even earlier incarnation of this fic was much darker and his soul became fused with Luna's and Iggy didn't initially exist).

An alternative to this version was instead of him coming back, somewhat, naturally, a cult managed to successfully revive him thinking he would bring about a new order. Only for him to massacre the group in anger that he'd been denied the one thing he's sought after for hundreds of years. Only for him to not realise that he's now human and treks all the way back to Magnolia to beg Natsu to kill him a second time. he is obviously denied and goes on a journey of learning to accept his new life.

The next one we have is...

The Dragon Scale Coat.

So this version was originally a papalogia au that I thought up. If you're unfamiliar with papalogia essentially Acnologia becomes an, almost, good guy and begrudgingly raises the five dragon slayers (seven if you include Laxus and Erik too). This version happens either after the Tenrou arc or earlier if somehow Natsu and Zeref encounter each other and Natsu learns that his scarf can protect him from Zeref's curse. With this knowledge in mind Acnologia decides to bodily drag Zeref from his own pity party and creates a dragon scale coat made from his own shed scales.

In some instances the coat is reinforced to negate as much of his curse as possible in others it does it naturally. either way the effect is the same. While wearing the coat, Zeref's curse is locked away and can no longer hurt anyone. The problem arises is that it also significantly reduces his regenerative abilities and means that he cannot take the coat off without realising his curse. inevitably leading to some precarious situations.

Then finally we have...

A Deal Gone Wrong.

I am not going to go too much into this one because it does give away spoilers for a future project. But the idea boils down to the thought that someone wanting to help Zeref finds a way to summon Ankhselam and bargains for his curse to be broken. It doesn't necessarily go well. In this version Ankhselam is a cruel and callous god that enjoys toying with humans, so in order to make a bad situation worse grants their request a la monkey paw style.

The end result doesn't break Zeref's curse but it does lessen it to the point that it can no longer hurt the people around him. He retains his immortality and agelessness but he retains the death magic that has plagued him, just a more controllable version.

So yes, Here are the main ideas I had so far... if you've got further questions or want to expand on anything have at it my friends :3

#fairytail #fairy tail #tea speaks #tea's headcanons #tea writes #zeref dragneel #acnologia

6 notes · View notes

spacemonkeysalsa · 8 months ago

Text

God of Ambivalence

A tiefling Artificer trying to carve a new path for himself splits a large stone on a beach to discover something truly shocking: a wizard missing a hand and in need of a lot of help, and magical items. Lucky for the wizard, Elion happens to be a fount of magical items. Pairing - OC/Gale & Shadowheart/Lae'zel but there will be more as it goes on.

Read on Ao3

or Chapter One below the cut

Chapter One

As a stone mason’s apprentice Elion had looked forward to the finer parts of the craft. Unfortunately, it would be years before he could dazzle some lucky beloved with a carved rose, or anything at all that was delicate or beautiful. So far, under master Faydor he seemed to be good for little more than hiking and hauling heavy rock. He acknowledged the bitterness he felt and gave voice to it in a sigh, as he removed the scarf from off his horns. He dampened the scarf with his water jug to cool off his neck and shoulder.

Weren’t Selûne’s penitent followers more appropriate for this task?

It certainly didn’t require his skill to walk a half-mile in the heat, dragging a borrowed cart to move great pieces of rock back the way he’d come. Couldn’t one of the other denizens of Moonhaven Anew do it? It was their harvest season, that’s what Faydor had said. Elion was pretty sure the old man was having him on though. Born and raised the city, Elion didn’t know much about provincial life, but he was fairly certain harvest time was another month out.

What am I doing here? It was the hundredth time he’d wondered, since leaving Baldur’s Gate. His mother was right, it was a stupid, rash decision. Switching career paths at this stage—and stonecraft? It had always been a hobby. Maybe he was giving his skills too much credit, maybe Faydor knew it and that’s why he had him hauling rocks rather than working with a chisel.

Of course, with the right materials, and a little time, he could make up for that, but he didn’t think Faydor would like it. The man was old fashioned in his craft as much as anything else. He wouldn’t appreciate innovation. A rustle from the bushes caught his ear, but it was the kind of sound that was easy to overlook. A rabbit, surely. Then he saw horns. A goat? Horns like his. Another tiefling.

He started and dropped the cart, but the girl looked startled to see him. She was tense all through her petite stature, very small for a tiefling, but not a child any longer, to be certain. Her burning orange eyes skewed him. The word that came to mind when he looked at her was 'wild.' Her orchid pink skin was blackening at her clawed fingertips and the end of her tail. Her horns were carved with lines of script and grafted with something shining and black. She wore clothes, almost. More like scraps falling to pieces, though at one point the pieces could have been druidic armor. Her ash brown hair was a pile on top of her head, braided near the scalp, bond where it came loose, and filthy with leaves and the remnants of a flower crown of pink.

“Oh!” She stood, sighing in relief as she hid a flare of green light in her palm. The girl smiled, sheepish, “You’re so big, I thought you were a cambion for a moment! But there, no wings, far too cool and too dark a complexion.” she darted out from the bushes and approached him, at a tumble. Her feet were bare, blackened as well.

The smell of magic hung heavy around her, it burned his eyes and thumped against his head when she spoke. It wasn’t like the taste of weave he knew. There was something deep and far away and echoing about it. The girl stood grounded; he couldn’t help but imagine great cords, like roots, holding her, pulling her into the heart of Toril itself.

A druid, probably. But, was that all? There was something nearly fey about her.

Whoever she was, she was powerful, and so he held his tongue and stood still, letting her examine him.

Her tail lashed behind her as she peered at him, tipping her chin all the way back to look up at him. “Hmmm. You’re perfect,” she declared.

“Perfect for what?”

“I need a little help, will you follow me?”

Even a city boy like Elion knew that it was foolish to follow a mysterious person, maybe fey, into the woods.

But, she wasn’t going to the woods, instead, she was gesturing down the path. “I don’t have the right tools, or the muscle,” she flexed for him, her arms twiggy.

He shifted, watching her. She didn’t seem to be in a hurry, at least. She stared at him with an unnerving smile. “None of the animals will help,” she continued. “I made the mistake of admitting to them that it would be loud, so they all left.”

“Who are you?” He was owed that much.

That he was even considering following her still felt foolish. But, he rarely met another tiefling, and one with fey ties (rather than infernal ones) was intriguing to say the least.

“I’m Arabella,” she said with a little laugh at herself. “And dear me, I forgot all that! Introductions. Handshakes. Do people shake hands, or did I dream that? Do we touch horns because we’re tieflings? I don’t think I’ve dreamt that. Or done it. Is that silly? Or too intimate?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know many other tieflings.”

“Me neither—well, not anymore." Arabella’s shoulders slumped and for a moment she looked incandescently sad, so much so that it startled him. She recovered with another beaming smile. “Help me, and it will be trouble, but the good kind. I need to split a stone. You’re out here to do that anyway, aren’t you?” she gestured to the cart he was hauling, and the tools inside.

“I’m supposed to bring back a few blocks. They’re rebuilding the old Selûnite Sanctum.”

“They are, or you are, or you all are?”

A question he’d been asking himself. It felt like he was doing a larger part of the work than anyone besides his own master, and for a god he didn’t even worship.

“It’s good rock,” she promised, “I don’t know what you call it. Granite? I don’t use as many words as I should, I suppose.” She shrugged and started down the path again, in perfect confidence that Elion would follow her.

His tail twitched behind him, anxious. It didn’t seem like any of the stories he’d heard of foolish travelers trusting mischievous fey in the woods. For one thing, he wasn’t desperate for anything that a fey would try to take advantage of him, was he? He might be desperately bored, but that was different.

Besides that, he wasn’t even sure Arabella was fey. She could be a very strange druid girl with poor communication skills. The rock might be in the way.

Ocean spray rattled in the distance as it showered over the old ruins and wreckage. Elion had only seen the nautiloid up close once since coming to this little corner of the sword coast. He was sure it didn’t look how it would have looked back when it could fly, before it rained in deadly burning pieces over the beach. The land had reclaimed much of it, trees extended through its fractures, and roots bubbled up under the charred carcass of the ship.

She led them very close to it, but then to a pale, sloped stone, old rune marks long faded, though Elion could still feel some pull to them, some power.

As Arabella approached the stone, she leaned into it, embracing the rock like an old friend. From the sigh on her lips and the way she relaxed, he imagined it was warm from the heat of the sun. “Yes. In here. Something old. Powerful. Hungry. Something dead. Something returned.” She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder without releasing the stone, “could be dangerous,” she enticed and warned, all at once. With one blackened nail she tapped the surface of the rock. Then moved a hand over and tapped again. Then up, so it was almost eye-level. “Here. Strike here, and it will divide.”

It didn’t look like terrible rock to use for rebuilding the temple pillars, and the runes were so faded. Whatever magic had crackled there long ago, was long since faded. The air didn’t even have the scent any longer. He made a mark with his chisel, right where Arabella had shown him. It was a little bit higher than was comfortable, but he found he trusted that she might know what she was talking about. He did have something in the way of a heightened sense when it came to these things, and there was something trembling and weak about where she’d placed her fingers, like the rock wanted to peel open and had already chosen its own soft spots. He didn’t have to work very much at all before there was an opening. The stone was not granite, but it would do. He made enough of a gash that he could wedge his splint into the stone, then went back to the cart to get a wooden mallet.

Arabella watched the whole time, sitting cross legged on the ground and gazing up at him, or at the stone, fixed smile, curious, and eyes flamed.

Now came the part that was loud, the part that had dissuaded the animals from being any help to the strange druid. He hit the splint hard with the mallet and the few birds that remained in the wreckage scattered into the air. The bang barked in the distance. Elion was strong and had managed to split stones in few hits before, but this one cracked immediately. The rock wanted to break open, perhaps it would have done so, left to its own devices, and with a little more time. The crack of the rock and its split all the way through the middle was even louder than the strike of the mallet, and Elion stumbled backwards to avoid being caught and crushed under the falling rock.

He caught sight of something in the center of the dust and debris, a dark undulating light of purple, with a sickly sweet acrid scent, and something else. Necrosis.

Arabella was on her feet again, backing away. “Oh,” she looked frightened, he realized, “oh no. Oh dear.” She threw her eyes around, as though quite worried that there was something coming. Or someone watching. “He needs help and I cannot help him,” was she talking about Elion? Talking to herself? “I can’t get any closer, tiefling boy who’s name I do not know. I can’t get closer, now that there is no rock to protect me.”

You don’t know my name because you didn’t ask. “Closer to…?” The dust from the rock’s destruction was still thick in the air, but the crackling swirl of magic at the center of it was starting to sharpen. Whatever it was, it was still, but stinking of magic and danger and death. The dust started to clear, even as he watched, he turned back to Arabella, to demand instructions, insight, something—but the tiefling girl was gone.

Of course she was.

Fey creature indeed.

As the dust fully cleared, Elion finally saw what he’d unleashed from the stone. In the center of the wreckage a man lay limp, his features and body obscured by a strange dark looking film of black, green and purple that Elion couldn’t identify. He was hurt badly, by the unconscious state of him and the grayish tinge to his skin under the film, but he was certainly alive, trying to breathe.

His right hand had been severed and ended in a messy cauterized stump.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #baldur's gate 3 gale #God of Ambivalence

4 notes · View notes

ahawkinhallownest · 1 year ago

Photo

There was once a Wyrm, mighty and wise who slept among the mountains as the worn blue flag she wore upon her horn flapped in the alpine wind. Her coils wound around ancient rocky spires as she dreamed of a land unlike her own, one filled with mortal creatures of all shapes and sizes. She saw a town that sat in the protective shadow of two towers that pierced the sky, where the body of a long deceased Root took on a life of its own and became a sacred tree that purified the ground and air. Bugs of every kind walked through the streets, from Bees to Ants to Beetles, all ignorant of the Void brewing beneath their feet. As the ground cracked open and unleashed a hoard of dark creatures, the bugs fled into their houses, only for their doors to be torn down and for them to be dragged out and killed. Some ran to the tree, and while the sacred aura of the towering arbor kept the dark monsters at bay, it would only be a matter of time before the tree too would wither and die as the ground became polluted with Void.

What started as a pleasant dream about bugs had quickly turned into a nightmare of death and destruction, but there seemed to be a single glimmer of hope. A blonde-maned Moth wearing a crimson scarf his way fought through the horde with a golden Pure Nail in one hand and a magic nailgun in the other. He slaughtered as many as he could until he was able to make his way out of the village, where he was able to spread his wings and take to the sky. Where he intended on going was unknown to the Wyrm, for she woke before she could see where it was.

Something had entered her territory, stirring her from her slumber. Vibrations from feet as her uninvited guest climbing cliffs and mountains and the subtle shift in air currents as wings flapped directed her attention to near the border of the mountain range. The ground lurched as the Wyrm unwound her elongated body from the pinnacles of her mountains, with boulders tumbling down their slopes as she began slithering down, careful not to allow the flag she wore on her horn to catch on any debris. Her tremorsense afforded her an accurate map of every inch of ground in her domain, and she was able to easily locate the intruder.

A blonde-maned Moth wearing a crimson scarf stood before her, eyes wide in both terror and fascination. “I have been waiting for you, Ringo of San Miguel.” She rumbled, her voice shaking the ground below her as she loomed over the insect. “You come seeking my aid.”

“I have, but how did you know?” Ringo replied, jaw dropping at the realization that she had him completely figured out.

“Have you forgotten? I am a Wyrm, dearest golden one.” The Wyrm wormed her tail towards Ringo and placed it behind him, blocking off his ground route to escaping her if she were to attack. In spite of the obvious threat, he remained firm, afraid as he was. “I knew you were coming all along. I had dreamed about you.”

“You did?”

She nodded her huge, horned head. “I had been waiting so long for you.” She leaned in, her mandibles so massive that they could crunch through boulders with ease. “You are brave for coming all the way here to seek my help in saving your homeland.”

“Well,” Ringo started and took a defiant step forward with his hands balled up into fists. “If you know why I’m here, will you help us? My home is being attacked by monsters from underground, and we can’t fight them off by ourselves!” He reached out to her pleadingly. “Please, you have to!”

“Be calm, dearest golden one.” She raised the fan of uropods at the end of her tail to get his attention. “I will agree to join you in your crusade, for I have also dreamed that you will succeed with my help. But I ask for one thing in return.”

Ringo eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed in confusion. “You want something from me?”

“It’s only natural, is it not? No one does anything for free, even you should know that.” The Wyrm leaned down, her colossal mandibles becoming a deadly cage to prevent the Moth from escaping. Though he was afraid, he kept his eyes on her face. “I only ask that you do something very important for me...”

Mani is a wyrm in this alternate world, which is basically the Hollow Knight setting’s equivalent of a dragon. She’s big, she’s purple, and she has lunar markings, and when she turns into a mortal bug later on, she becomes a luna moth, thus continuing her lunar aesthetic. She even has the blue scarf that Sabat would eventually wear on her horn, a small detail I was happy to somehow work into this design, though I describe it as an old flag. I wonder where the flag came from?

#hollow knight #crossover #Bokura no Taiyou #Boktai #mani #ringo #fanart #just for fun

13 notes · View notes

persepinas · 2 years ago

Text

I haven’t had a day off since last Tuesday and it’s messing with me. Part 3 of my modern Loustat series (because I guess it’s a series now? I had no intention to do this!) will be posted this Tuesday. So, two days from now.

I just wanted to share a rough drafted part because why not? Honestly. It’s sugary sweet fluff but this is the beginning and because I am me, there will be plenty of hurt comfort angst and possible tears (probably from Lestat) later on.

Anyyyywayyyyyyy.

Here’s some fluff. Happy new year.

The snow crunches beneath his boots, and Louis glances up, feeling childish delight in the sight of snow falling down from above him. It steals a smile from him, small and mainly at the corner of his left lip, but it is a smile nonetheless.

Paris is cold and shaken like a snow globe, its lights twinkling all around as decorations from the recent holidays remain to illuminate their surroundings. It’s like a movie, like a hallmark card, like a cozy chapter of a well loved novel. The shimmering icicles twined around tree branches are like diamonds reflecting in the city lights. It’s magical, ethereal, and like a piece of art come to life.

Lestat’s leather gloved hand slides against his, their fingers threading mindlessly, and Louis looks at his companion instead of the winter wonderland around them.

“Am I to be jealous of even snow?” Lestat teases with a smile of his own. His is full blown, gracing his beautiful face, as his eyes, nearly grey now to reflect the weather, light up with delight. “The snow has taken a smile I thought was mine and mine alone.”

Louis scoffs, shakes his head at Lestat and gives his hand a reaffirming squeeze. “You can be so ridiculous,” he scolds. “To compare snow to you? Really? Lestat, you are well over two hundred! Time to grow up!”

Lestat fervently shakes his head, clearly intent upon sticking to this act of his. “That’s my smile, Louis. I’m hurt. Aching. Truly, my heart may have very well finally split from the pain! My chest burns!”

Louis throws his head back and laughs so loudly, the sound echoing all around. There’s no one around on the street, as it is too late and cold and humans are all inside and warm in their beds while the vampires roam.

Cobblestone streets in old Paris. Lestat’s promise is kept. Louis’ just as warm, but all in his chest and the hand Lestat holds. He’s warm and in love and excited to be here, to see Paris this time in better spirits, in a new beginning.

Theirs. It is theirs. It’s all theirs to experience together. It’s Lestat, guiding Louis to places he’s visited in his past, gracefully turning corners and side streets to reach their many destinations. And there are so many! So many places Lestat excitedly shows to Louis, shares with him on this cold winter’s night.

“Wait,” Louis calls out before Lestat can drag him away to somewhere else. “Come here, please.”

Trembling like an overexcited puppy, gives Louis a heartbreaking pout, one that begs to be kissed away. So, he does. Louis leans in, holds onto Lestat’s cashmere scarf between them and kisses him.

“Your nose is ice cold,” Louis whispers against Lestat’s lips. “Like a puppy.”

He laughs as Lestat makes a noise of indignation at such a thing. He laughs and drifts away, lets their hands fall away from one another. Louis laughs, his spirits to high he wonders if this will be the night he finally gains the ability to fly. He swears he could! He swears there is so much joy inside of him that it can very well lift him right from the ground!

“A puppy?” Lestat asks, feigning offense more than feeling it. Louis can tell and the happiness between them grows.

He’s so in love. Louis’ head spins and he’s tingling and sighing, overwhelmed and wanting.

He’s always wanting.

“Need I remind you that I am an esteemed wolf killer?”Lestat asks, lunging to catch Louis before he slips away again. He’s successful, grasping Louis by the elbows, and Louis is grinning ear to ear about it.

“It wouldn’t feel right to say your nose is cold like a wolf!” Louis laughs. He can’t stop laughing! It’s delightful. It’s refreshing. It’s been such a long time since he’s been as elated as he feels right now. “I don’t even know if a wolf has a cold nose. I know about dogs! Besides, you could be compared to something worse? What about a beaver? A mole? A … turtle?”

“Louis,” Lestat grumbles. One, two, three steps, and the toes of their boots touch. “My darling Louis, I am Lestat. I need not be compared to anyone or anything!”

“You are Lestat,” Louis agrees, “and your nose is ice cold and I don’t want it near mine. Keep back, Monsieur Rockstar.”

Lestat chuckles at that, lets Louis’ elbows go in favor is sliding his arms around his waist instead. It’s better, closer, and Louis hums when their chests press together.

The harmonized beat of their hearts forever sends Louis into a heavenly daze. It’s ever present, more now than ever before with the freedom they have found to love one another without secrets and limits.

“Are you excited about seeing my show tomorrow evening?” Lestat asks softly. “I’ll sing for you, Louis. Will you be in the crowd or to my left backstage?”

“Leave it to surprise,” Louis replies. “It’s more fun if you do.”

“I’ll still sing for you, to you,” Lestat says devotedly. “It would be wrong if I did not. My eternal muse. My Louis.”

#my fic #Loustat #Loustat fic #my writing #my writing rambles #rough drafts of things #lestat x louis #interview with the vampire #louis x lestat

31 notes · View notes

crash-bump-bring-the-whump · 2 years ago

Text

I've been thinking about Mariano having stress nightmares for so long, now it's time for y'all to read about it

TWs: burns, accidental self harm, aftermath of nightmares, fainting

The smell of burning hair and cotton woke Bastian at 3:17 AM. Silver eyes snapped open, and he sat up, turning on his bedside lamp. White walls covered in posters and prints were unobscured by smoke.

Standing, Bastian didn't bother feeling the doorknob before yanking his bedroom door open. If there was a house fire, he could handle the heat and smoke longer than Mariano could--a little fire wasn't anything to give him pause. The hallway was...also clear, though. The living room as well.

A dull thump from Mariano's room made Bastian hurry with his inspection, though. There were no windows to escape through if anything were to start in there. Pulling Mariano's door open, Bastian coughed. The smell of burned hair just about choked him. He staggered back, waving a hand in front of his face. Reaching blindly, he pulled one of Mariano's scarves from its hallway wall hook and pressed it to his nose before diving inside.

There was no smoke. Mariano's sheets were thrown aside, tangled near the floor like he'd stumbled out of them in a hurry. "Mariano?" Bastian called, voice rough from sleep. "You alive?"

There was no answer. The light was on in the bathroom. "Hey." Bastian said, rapping his knuckles against the cheap wood. "I'm gonna come in, smells like you're burning alive in there."

When Bastian tried the knob, it wasn't even locked. The door swung open, stopping only when it knocked against Mariano's knee. Pale and clammy, with a bleeding, angry burn on his stomach, Mariano sat slumped against the wall. Chin to his chest, with a square of gauze in one hand and a bottle of antibiotic ointment on the floor, it was obvious what he'd been trying to do.

"Hey." Bastian said again, softer, as he tossed the scarf aside. One of his hands raised to Mariano's forehead, lifting his head. Mariano's eyes fluttered, and he mumbled something. "Dumbass, c'mon. Wake up."

Finally, after what felt like an hour, Mariano was able to open his eyes and focus. Bastian grinned. "Having a party in here? Looks like your shirt got caught up in it." He took the gauze from Mariano's fingers, starting to bandage the palm-sized burn. His fingertips barely brushed the bleeding skin as he worked, Mariano's scarred stomach flinching and tensing whenever the warmth from Bastian's hands got close.

"Woke up from a nightmare." Mariano groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. He dragged the back of one wrist across eyelids painted purple with exhaustion, holding it there with a grimace as Bastian finished placing ointment-soaked bandages.

"Must've been a bad one." Bastian said, delicately picking up one of Mariano's wrists and inspecting his palms. Dark red and obviously tender, but not as bad as his stomach. "Y'haven't done this in a while."

"...You knew?" Mariano asked, some odd tone crawling into his voice and making him sound smaller. "I...try not to wake you. I just...I think my knees gave out this time."

Bastian laughed. "C'mon, you're not some cosplayer. You don't just decide to bandage up your palms for fun before work." Bastian was generous with the ointment, not commenting on the little hisses of pain Mariano let out. "Not hard to tell that something weird happened the night before."

Mariano hummed, letting Bastian take his other hand away from his face when the first one was done. "It just. Sucks. I never even realize my magic is active until I wake up." He settled on, looking like some washed-out wax interpretation of Mariano as he leaned against the wall. "...At least it doesn't happen often."

"Just wake me up next time." Bastian said with a shrug. "Takes me ten minutes and I won't think our apartment's caught on fire."

"But--"

"I mean," Bastian cut Mariano off, putting the burn supplies back under his sink. "If you like passing out in your bathroom instead of going back to bed, you're welcome to." Bastian's hands went to either side of Mariano's rib cage, slipping up under the charred hem of his shirt to have a better grip as he stood them both up. "But if you wanna actually sleep, just wake me up next time."

Mariano swooned as he was pulled upright, knees going weak in Bastian's hold. "Whoa--whoa..." He mumbled, blinking hard and bracing one hand gingerly against Bastian's arm.

"Okay, you don't get a choice tonight." Bastian decided, looping his arm around Mariano's waist instead to keep him standing. "You're coming to bed with me. I'll set my alarm."

Mariano didn't argue as he was hauled back to Bastian's room, away from the smell of his own nightmares and pain. With both of them tucked under black sheets and a pillow between their torsos, Bastian's arm settled carefully over Mariano's side. Not minutes later, Mariano was sleeping again, come color having returned to his face and the pained lines near his eyes smoothed over.

If Bastian started to purr at the feeling of his mage being safe, and close, and taken care of, at least there was no one to notice.

#burns #whump #whump writing #fainting /#self harm /#but it's an accident #nightmares #mage of violence #dragon of diamond #I like Mariano's magic freaking out a little when he's so stressed and tense and feeling like he needs to fight #you'd have to REALLY get him feeling cornered and fucky to make it happen when he's awake but yk how it is #dumb stubborn mage refusing to ask for help and almost giving himself a concussion

17 notes · View notes

nerdylike · 2 years ago

Text

Bittersweet Goodbyes / Roseblings

With Gemini and FWhip Tay’s parents ruling over Grimlands, the twins have always been together for as long as they can remember.

Even though Gem was the “rightful” heir according to the law, she knew their parents wanted FWhip as their heir. One of the reasons for FWhip being preferred as heir is the fact that he loved Grimlands, from its landscape to its fishy animals. Gem, on the other hand, loved the greenery and magic.

Though that’s also due to Gem telling her parents that she would not give up learning magic. Ever since, the two parents were strict on Gem, for Grimlands never really liked magic. That leads them to many arguments until one heated argument finally hits both the parents to kick Gem out of the mansion.

“Gem, wait! Maybe I can still talk to them about not getting you kicked out.” FWhip followed Gem as they entered their room.

“FWhip, you heard our parents, I’m being kicked out and given the time to pack and say goodbyes.” Gem quickly kneels down to grab something under her purple and white bed.

“Gem, please, I know I can convince them otherwise, so let’s go down and talk with them again.” FWhip tries to persuade Gem.

Gem sighed as she pulls out a green bag under her bed, “FWhip, I’m so, so sorry. I don’t want to leave you but I have no choice. Besides, you knew I was planning on leaving at night had they not kicked me out earlier.”

“Then let me come with you!” FWhip volunteered, becoming more desperate.

“FWhip, no, our parents won’t and I don’t want to be blamed for ‘dragging’ you with me, plus, what will you be doing while I study magic?” Gem reasoned, opening the cabinet to get more of her clothes.

“I can study how to make better inventions-”

“The best education for those is here, FWhip, in Grimlands. They’re offering a scholarship for you here. Your future is better here. Plus, we’ll have to work on part-time jobs and I won’t be able to be there when you get into trouble.” Gem turned around to face FWhip, cutting him off mid-sentence.

As Gem grabbed some clothes and shoves it down her bag, FWhip looks down as he ran his hands to his hair, “I don’t want to lose you, Gem” he mumbled.

Gem paused. She knew FWhip overheard her when she plans on leaving. She also knew he would try to stop her if she attempted to leave.

That’s the only reason Gem never attempted to leave in the first place. She wouldn’t bring herself to face FWhip, no matter how much she planned. Even if she avoided him, she knew she wouldn’t forgive herself for not even saying goodbye to his twin brother.

She already finds leaving hard enough. She never considered that being kicked out and FWhip begging her to stay is harder.

Gem turned around, her heart being crushed as she saw FWhip’s eyes begin to water, “FWhip…” she whispered.

“Gem, please… don’t leave me. I don’t- I wouldn’t even know what the first thing to do-”

“FWhip. I’m sorry, truly I am. But you know I’ll never cooperate with our parents, not if it meant pushing down my passion or my abilities.” Gem apologized.

FWhip closed his hands, shaking, he knew Gem is right. He’s seen the happiness and wonder the day that Gem discovered she has more magic abilities, that she can study magic spells.

“I’ll write to you, every time I’m in a new place, what happened to me while I’m studying, I’ll even tell you the inventors I met along the way. I promised you, FWhip, you won’t lose me.” Gem stepped closer to him.

FWhip felt something being wrapped around his neck. He opened his eyes to see a red scarf. He looked up at Gem, bewildered.

“Gem, but this is- This is your favorite scarf knitted by Grandma. I’m not-”

“I told you, you wouldn’t lose me, right? You see, you definitely won’t lose me.” Gem sadly smile.

“Ok, fine,” FWhip gave up, “just… promise me you’ll stay safe, and no lover without my permission.” FWhip joked on the last part, sort of.

Gem chuckled, “Y’know I’ll only be studying, right?”

“Yeah, I just want to make sure we’re clear on that.” FWhip elaborated.

Gem saw what FWhip was trying to do and decides to tease him, “Aw… is my little brother worried about me?”

“Of course, I’d be worried and it’s by four minutes, Gem! Four!” FWhip admits.

“At least I’m older than you.”

“At least I don’t wear big hats!”

“They’re not that big, you know that!”

The two stared at each other and laughed at their banter.

FWhip moved to hug Gem, which Gem obliged immediately, hugging him harder.

“I’m gonna miss you Gem…”

“I’m going to miss you too, FWhip.”

The two stayed like that for a while. Comfortable with the silence.

Knock, knock…

“Lady Gemini Tay, your parents are getting impatient. Sir FWhip Tay, you will be late for your private lessons with xxxxxxxxx.”

“Goodbye Gem…”

“Goodbye FWhip.”

The two pulled away from each other and went out of their room. It will be many years until they see each other again but they’re both willing to wait.

31 notes · View notes

wonderland-productions-blog · 1 year ago

Text

Knight in Dulled Armor Ch. 6

Chapter 6: Acrobatic Academic

My eyes drift upwards, taking in the view of the city still. Not all of Braiewood was in disarray, many of the buildings and streets were cleaner as I explored more open areas. The architecture wasn’t exactly typical of what I was familiar with. Brick and wood serve as most of the building materials here, unlike much of the metal and raw stone used in Asteria. The most prevalent difference was the sheer height of the buildings here. Many aspects played with the height of the buildings, like lofts, patios, and raised foundations.

I decide to head back into the aerial arts center, following back down the road I came from. This time I enter through the large double doors, and take a seat near the front of the crowd. People seemed to be biding time at the moment with no one on any stages, several seats now vacant, and those still sitting were chatting or immersed in other activities. While seated I catch a whiff of food cooking somewhere. I scan the area, a peck of hunger setting in. I notice a small counter and bar area with a man cooking behind it in the far corner of the room.

The aerial performance seemed to be at an intermission for the time being, so I make my way to a stool at the counter. Only one other sat spaced between stools with me. I try to get the man cooking's attention, sticking my hand up and slightly forward. We make eye contact, but he doesn't bother to speak to me. I wait a few moments for him to finish what is cooking on the grill on the other side of the countertop. When he serves a plate to a man waiting and still doesn't bother to take my order I open my mouth to ask him when he is available to do so.

My mouth is filled with something, my hand jumps up to cover my mouth. Juicy, soft, and savory my stomach churns upon the realization that it was meat. "Excuse me, I don't really eat meat." he glances up from his work for a moment, a brow raised. "Not many do, that is a mushroom and vegetable blend, it only resembles meat. We're not orcs, don't be absurd." I push aside the seemingly heated comment, "Sorry, I wasn't aware. Can I get a men-" I am once again cut off by him flinging a bit of the warm mushroom meat into my mouth via spatula.

I chew and swallow, growing impatient with his unprofessional attitude despite the great quality of the food. He sees my mouth descend into a scowl, "You're hungry, right? What's wrong?" he says through a smirk. "I'm joking of course, the menu is behind me," he says, moving over to reveal a large menu board. Upon inspection, I decide on fried rice with local veggies. He quickly prepares it, asking if I wanted it in a box rather than a plate. I panic and say nod without absorbing the information at first. He preps it into a small box with a wooden utensil, then passes it to me by a handle on its folded top.

Light in the room shifted, blobs of color now dragging their way across the walls. My mind is brought back to wondering how the light morphs color and moves in such a way. The only possibility that remains after my eyes follow along the walls and floor extensively is that it was some kind of magic. Slow music kicks up, indicating the show may start soon.

I make my way back to my seat in the crowd. A woman walks out onto the stage from a set of curtains behind her. A short airy skirt made from a vibrant lace hangs just above her mid-thigh. Peaking through this translucent skirt I was a glimpse of white lacy undergarments. A small sleeveless top of a similar style clung to her chest. The largest piece of fabric on her was a long scarf draped over her shoulders.

She settled herself on stage, gripping one of the bars and gracefully pulling herself up onto it. She then hooks one leg onto a curved section of a bar, bending her body and allowing herself to hang from it. She morphs her body into different shapes with a series of twists and movements, creating a graceful and even sensual environment. She continues the aerial sport reminiscent of refined dance, using her scarf as a prop to hold herself in a brilliant display of strength.

The music fades out for a moment, a silence nestles its way deep into the room. I look around the room, trying to gauge if the performance was over. My eyes snap back to the stage as the performer, now sitting on a high horizontal section of a bar, juts her hands out, falling back only catching herself with her fastened scarf at the last moment. The music now swells at a faster pace to match their routine. I notice a set of clicks and clanking above me in the pause, noticing a tall tile ceiling.

Drawing my attention back, the woman covers her chest for a moment. She flings her hands back, revealing a new color of fabric on her top. She makes the same motion over her hips, changing the color of her skirt. She makes a quick jump onto a curved section of a bar rather than the previous slow precise movement. The bar begins to turn, and she begins a set of more exciting hangs and twirls.

Before I know it the show is done, the woman drops to her knees at the end of the stage, blowing a kiss to the crowd before disappearing back behind the curtain. A series of applause erupts from the crowd and a few disperse. My finds find each other through the burst of sound, adding another set of claps to the applause. I should leave too, maybe find a less crowded place to eat my meal.

I wait until all that choose to leave are gone so that I won't have to press through cramped doors and crowded streets outside. I step toward the door, feeling a tug against my shoulder.

"You aren't going out that way, are you?" A smooth feminine voice uttered. I turn to see a woman only a bit taller than myself at the bar counter where I'd gotten my food. "Oh, my bad, sweetie. I thought you were a performer." She says.

She was of a darker tone than I was, her complexion resembled Hidorah's but I'd say held more of a reddish tint to it. I recognized her as the dancer on stage from earlier when I'd been chasing him. She no longer wore her sheer lace set but now a cropped shirt with a square neckline and a section of straight lace beneath it. Her long sleeves were the same sheer lace. She also wore a short white skirt sitting above the knee hanging loose on her hips. A set of colorful densely beaded cords clung to her waist above her naval.

She must have noticed my staring, as she jutted a hip out and placed a hand upon it. She cocked her head, her dark frizzy hair bouncing up against her shoulder instead of scrunching against it as mine would. I shake my head finally, entirely too late for normal interaction.

"Oh, I caught a bit of your performance earlier, you're very impressive!" I blab with a nervous smile. She smiles back, arguably much brighter than my own. The man running the counter slides her a drink, and she glances at me. "Wanna buy me a drink?" She says this while going for a pouch hanging at her side onto the beaded bands on her waist. Before she can fish out anything, I've already gotten my coin ready. I slide it to the man and nod. With a chuckle, she signals me to follow her with a free hand and a drink in the other. I am led into a different room behind the curtains and led out to a different side of the building.

She walks down an unfamiliar part of town and I have little choice but to follow. There weren't as many people to push through, in fact, there were hardly any people at all. She finally looks back at me, "You know, you didn't have to do that."

"It isn't an inconvenience by any means, I enjoyed what I saw of your performance. I figured I should let you know." I say to her. We eventually stop at the end of a wide alley and sit on an old bench. Her skirt rides up her round thighs as she crosses her legs when we sat down. Without any tarps over the alley, it was just as bright out as the main street. The sun provided a great contrast on her skin, adding a shine to her skin in the light. I now envied her bare legs as I wore my continuously heating full-length pants. I wipe the sweat from my brow as subtly as possible. She must have noticed this and offered me a drink. I take the bottle, cool condensation wetting my hand.

It was an underlining sour fruit flavor that had been neutralized with a sweetener of some kind. It was overall refreshing and enough to put me in a better mood and ease my nerves. "Come on," she says, gesturing me up as she stands.

The end of the alley holds a short set of stairs leading to a large door. I reluctantly follow her, unsure of where exactly we were heading. She pushes open the door, leading us inside.

I immediately recognize the space as a library. Though this area was more space efficient and guest friendly with lofts to access higher literature on walls, there were still books lined edge to edge of the vast room. "A library?" I ask, obviously hoping for more reasoning than confirmation.

"Yeah, I work here. I figured you could at least walk me here, safer that way." She lets out. We continue inside, taking a few steps into a conversation pit embedded into the sandstone floor.

A lump forms in my throat, "Why is there such a heavy need for safety?" I pry, bracing a hand on the counter now between us. I watched her fetching a stack of folded clothes from beneath the counter. A fitting dark vest, including a silver pin on one side of her chest as well as a dark, fairly sheer knee-length skirt.

Such a climate seemed to allow for much less formal dress, I concluded. I didn’t mind, and people didn’t acknowledge it as much as I thought they would. For a moment I had to be reminded of the heat, a rare occurrence so far. The library was fairly cool inside, strangely enough.

"I couldn't tell you're new here at first, for the record. Your clothes seem normal, so I'll give you points for your adaptation skills, but I was suspicious when you thanked me for my performance. Then my hunch was solidified as soon as you paid for my drink. You're very formal." She tells me.

"That doesn't answer my question," I let out.

"Well, I get why you wouldn't know, is what I'm saying. Braiewood isn't the same as it was years ago. We've had a bit of an economic crumble for a collection of reasons. With that being said, it didn't exactly help the city's crime rates"

"I'm sorry, I wasn't aware."

"It's alright, you got lucky, I'm one of the few people who won't look at you like you're a barbarian for not knowing. Can't expect tourists to know when tourists haven't been around since all the changes." she shrugs.

I wait for her to continue, but she shakes her head as she steps behind a rounded counter. "We're in a library, you want information look around. I'm not an economist."

"Fair enough, care to point me to an elven history book? Preferably about the apparent deterioration of Braiewood. Shockingly the fluctuation of the elven economy isn't a huge seller in Asterian bookstores." I laugh out to her, putting my elbow on the table and shifting my weight onto it. I am genuinely curious about this, and I wonder if I’ll be able to discuss this issue at home once this all blows over.

In a sad discovery, I was met with a look of confusion over a chuckle. She runs her hand to my cheek, brushing my neck with her soft fingertips. I stare at her face now much closer to mine. I straighten my posture, but this led to her leaning further over the counter. Her mouth was left slightly agape and her full lips pursed into a pout as her brows furrowed. She pushed my hair behind my ears and her jaw dropped. Her eyes widened for a moment, her head seems to shake away a thought.

"Yes?" I ask.

"Um, I'll lead you to the history section. Just a moment." She takes me to a certain shelf and hands me a book with a faded yellow spine. This unexpected tension tightens my demeanor and I do my best to get things back on track.

"Do I need to pay or sign the book out?" I say as we walk back to her counter.

"Well, I'll consider waiving your fee for borrowing a book without having any identification since you bought me a drink. I'm gonna go out on a limb and say you don't have a Braiewood sign of residence?"

"You caught me, alright. I told you I'm not from around here."

"Well, as long as I can get your name in case you want something from here again. You've got a name, right?" She says, hunching over a gridded paper.

"Elaine," I say.

She glances up from her sheet, expecting more.

"Thauma." I continue.

She scoffs, shaking her head as she jots it down. "Are your parents fans of traditional names too? Or just have a really bad alias?"

I shoot her a confused look.

"My name is Arani," she clarifies.

My confusion is momentarily dismissed as I remember that this is in homage to Azulah Arani, one of the more known and respected past Elven representatives. She's clearly under the impression that I am someone named after myself. A name popularized because of its presence in nobility, leaving me with a legacy to live up to before I have the chance to claim my name as my own.

"Nonetheless, Elaine, I'll lend you the book free of charge. Just make sure you set aside some time to return it. Maybe even consider grabbing another book, you'd get into the readers' hall of fame pretty quick." She laughs.

"Not many interested in the cultural classics anymore?" I ask.

"Nah, change in curriculum beats the information into kids without leaving any room for a want to research on their own. That's how my younger sister puts it."

"I see, I guess leadership doubled down on the education to attempt to prevent future mishaps?" I consider.

"You're not too far off, you sure you need that textbook after all?" Arani says.

"You'll have to pry this book from my cold, dead, educated hands." I laugh, packing it into my bag.

I find myself leaning back onto the countertop and chatting with Arani more about education, finding out she just got out of short secondary education. We were around the same age, her being only a little older than myself. She asks me about Asterian schooling and we compare our education systems. "Clearly you were taught well enough you wanted to seek more education," I say, gesturing toward the library shelves behind me.

"Maybe I wasn't taught enough at all and needed to take matters into my own hands," she jokes.

"Seems like you're the only one who feels that way," I tell her, staring at all the empty seats scattered around the room.

"Yeah, but what can you do? It's hard to convince people to learn when they think they know everything. Plus, if people actually wanted books I'd have to work more," Arani says, "I'm pretty content with getting paid to perform and then read books and dust all day."

"Oh yeah, you work two jobs with performing and the library. Is that normal?" I ask.

"Pretty normal yeah, most people don't care as long as they enjoy what they do. That's why you still see a few people selling original works in the market when they're aren't exactly a ton of tourists," she explains.

I nod and would have continued chatting if it weren't for a wave of light entering the room. A creak at the doors reveals the first visitors in the library since I'd entered. This cues my leave, and I attempt to wrap up my and Arani's conversation before they come to the counter.

"This was nice, it's not often that I get to talk to other people my age around here. Not many are as diverse, you could say, in their interests." She smiles.

"Of course, thank you for the information and kind introduction to the library. I'll get back to you once I've finished this."

She waves me goodbye and I head back into the city, now close to nightfall. If I wanted to blend in I'd have to keep my head down. Apparently, I stick out quite a bit when I gawk at everything in town and attempt to make small talk. Now that I thought about it, no one in the crowd even attempted to talk to me, and hardly talked to one another. The public was much more reserved than it was in Asteria.

I trace my path back to the way I'd entered the city. It was nearing time to leave if I wanted to get back to the tavern barely before sunset. I begin to pick at the food that I'd now been saving for a couple of hours through no choice of my own. This makes my walk more entertaining, but most certainly a bit slower. I finish my food and place the now empty box in my bag to throw away once I arrive at the settlement.

Since my walk time estimate was delayed from my meal it grew dark before I arrived in town. I could see the tavern lights in the distance, though admittedly only because of how flat the terrain was. I trekked on, now more so following the lights of the tavern from afar rather than the beaten path in the darkness.

Soon, the darkness swallowed all signs of the ground once beneath my feet, let alone a path to follow, no longer allowing moonlight to penetrate the darkness. I continue using the slowly growing lights as my only guide. The cold set in quickly, shifting from a hot sunny day to a chilly dark night in only minutes.

This wasn't a problem until the all light was eaten away by the night. It wasn't possible that Kenrik snuffed every lamp in the tavern yet tonight, especially in the common room. I stop, taking a few steps back. The lights reemerge.

"What?" I mutter. With this, the silence of the desert breaks. A strange sound reminiscent of wind fills my ears. Maybe I'd blinked without realizing it, causing the only thing in my vision to flicker out of existence.

Then, the air became warm. Within a couple steps the lights cut once more. I take a moment to ensure the influx of heat wasn't imaginary or something simple like my hot breath hitting my cold skin. No. This was heat. This was wind. This was darkness. Such a strange flip from everything just a few steps prior. I take a couple more steps.

Something hits my stretched-out hand. The palm of my hand was greeted with something soft and warm. I shift my fingers, feeling tufts of something between them. I pull lightly. The sound of the wind stops.

Just for a moment, something permeates the darkness beyond me. Two large, round rings of a pale yellow light set into my vision. Just as quickly as they flashed into existence, they disappear once more.

The dry, wispy texture beneath my fingers drags upward, and my hand is met with something now wet and hot. A white glint shows the curved outline of teeth in the night. My heart races as my brain strikes a similar experience. The canine creatures I first met in the desert, faijugh.

I didn't have time to waste, I skidded far over to my left until the lights came back into view. Its large black body was obstructing my view. I run, beginning to feel something sickening bubble up. I swallow what rises in my throat that was attempting to make its way out of my stomach. I put everything into my foot placement. Even a small stone could throw me to the ground and leave me as dog food.

A mix of my heartbeat and panting now drowned out every outside sound, I couldn't even tell if I was actually being chased. The lights in my vision were now huge and I could see the porch of the tavern. The only noise was the difference in sound from the stiff sand-like soil of the desert to the solid thump of my feet on concrete. I shove the doors open and thrust myself into my room. A loud thud shakes the tavern. This is followed by a series of scratches against the wood floor. I take a peak outside my room.

The black canine had attempted to force its body into the doorway, getting stuck in the doorframe and having to scratch its way out. A series of gasps emanates from the main room. One of which I note as Kenriks. He makes his way to the doorway. I couldn't let this elderly man attempt to get this monster out himself. I barge out of my room, "Kenrik! I'm sorry I-"

"Sorry? You're sorry?" He says loudly above the continuing scratches. I attempt to pull him back from the animal. He turns and looks at me with tears in his eyes. My stomach knots. The canine finally molds and compresses its large body and a thick coat of fur through the door. It makes its way toward Kenrik.

I see him tackled to the ground, a large paw pressing into one of Kenrik's shoulders. The Faijugh's face grew closer to his, its nostrils flaring as it sniffed him profusely. I attempt to throw myself at the beast in a final moment of desperation. I wait with my eyes squinted shut. Nothing, not an ounce of pain. I look down, unearthing my face from a mass of fur.

Kenrik was being licked and laughing from such. "Elaine, thank you!" He manages between breaths. I pry myself off the animal and take a step back.

"Elaine, you found Kyzu! How can I ever make it up to you?" he says.

I draw a breath in, "That's Kyzu? That thing is gigantic and monstrous!" the way that Kenrik described Kyzu as a protective and loving dog, yet this was the farthest thing I'd imagine from that. Oversized, provoking, and vicious was the thing in front of me. A sense of dizziness had wriggled its way into me. My vision begins to sway, though I futilely try to steady myself.

My heart rate hadn't acknowledged the lack of danger in the new setting, and my chest felt tight from such intense running so far. My throat felt raw from the cold dry air. I sucked a rickety breath in, it breaks itself up upon exhaling. I take a shaky step forward toward Kyzu, holding a deep sense of uncertainty in my mind. The dog doesn't seem to care about or even notice me anymore. Kyzu adjusts herself to allow Kenrik to get up. The faijugh mix lets out a sigh, pacing around the floor and letting out creaks along the way. She settles down beside Kenrik's chair, laying on the floor with a huff, her large body taking up considerable space in the common area.

Stepping over to her, I stand above this black shiny mass. I kneel down, taking a deep breath before feeling its long, straw-like fur. I swipe my hand up and down, watching the fur sway back and forth, the tufts of hair shining in the bright lantern light. Kyzu's chest rose and fell with every slow breath. I watch as her eyes fight sleep with each jolt awake before finally remaining shut.

It is just a big puppy. She now seemed so helpless, finally being able to rest after reuniting with her owner. It looks like under the voluminous fur there could be a bit of hunger residing, though it was hard to tell if she was truly underweight. Cracked, dry skin peeling on her nose and lips as well as her paw pads being so distressed that they were now jagged and rough to the touch. A seed of pity roots its way into my heart. I will also note the acknowledgment of a tinge of shame for both being afraid of such a seemingly timid creature and being wrong about its violent instincts.

I watch a sort of peace show its place in Kenrik's eyes, a new calmness to them. He sits at his chair under a lantern and pets Kyzu's head as they both rest. Almost all of which that were concerned about Kyzu no longer stared, an almost incredulous amount of trust in a bartender as a guest. I suppose this shows something special about the tavern, at the very least.

I let out a sigh, trying my best to place as much faith in Kenrik as the customers do. The feeling of danger is a hard one to immediately shake, though. Sitting at the counter seems like a good place to be since I wasn't ready to shut myself into my room yet. I take a peak into the kitchen, no staff. Not that it mattered, since I'm sure Kenrik wouldn't mind me pouring my own drink. I fill my glass with a berry mead and ice. Corking the slim bottle, I put it back onto the shelf and sip at my drink for a bit.

My ice now long melted, I slosh the watery remnant of my drink around my glass. The color was less pigmented and now almost transparent. I roll my shoulders, feeling much more relaxed. I get up, taking my glass behind the counter and into the kitchen to wash. I rinse it out and dry it with a new rag, returning behind the bar to set my glass with the others.

From behind the counter, I could see that the tavern was now dimmer, with a few of the lamps throughout the dining hall having gone out at this point. All dining patrons had retired to their rooms, tables cleaned, and the tavern quiet. By this point, even Kenrik had gone down into his room and settled into bed for the night.

As I set my glass on the shelf with the others, the doors open. I stand up from behind the counter after the creak emanates through the room. Val and I make eye contact; well, as much eye contact as you can make through a helm. He settles down on a stool at the bar, just a seat away from where I'd sat before washing my glass. He seemed a bit surprised, straightening his posture upon realizing it was me. "Elaine, are you the bartender for tonight?" he asked.

"I can be if needed, I don't mind too much if you only need a couple drinks. I just don't exactly want to get caught up working," I explain.

He responds with a nod, "Two glasses of whiskey, then," holding up two of his fingers as he speaks.

I pour him his drinks, putting more effort in than I would for my own, even making sure the ice amount was about the same in either glass. After putting away the whiskey bottle I take a seat on a stool just beside me, still sitting across from Val.

I caught myself on numerous occasions trying to sneak glances under his helm when he took a drink. I was already naturally a bit lower than him as we sat, it felt strangely tempting to be sitting right across from him. I would always avert my eyes after, making it all the more obvious when I'd done so.

"It's awfully late, don't have anywhere to be tomorrow I take it?" I ask, trying to make small talk.

"Actually, I'm heading Northeast for business. I've just had a long day," Val sighs out.

"I can't imagine what a long day must look like for you, I feel exhausted just from an excursion to Braiewood today." I chuckle, seeing him soften his tense stature.

"You must have walked there, right? It’s a ways away, I take it you had Hidorah escort you?" Val asks, putting his head down. I see him go for his second drink, and in a moment I make the decision to drop a rag off the counter, giving me the chance to duck down to grab it.

"Oh, no. Hidorah didn't work today either but I left after he did, so I walked alone." I don't break contact while kneeling to pick it up. I could see the underside of his throat; a darker complexion, though I'm unsure whether this was the lighting, with a shininess giving the indication of stubble on a wide, defined jawline leading down to a large Adam's apple. I see his throat force downward with a swallow, I do the same out of instinct.

"Oh, alright then..." He says, waiting a moment to press on, "I hope you didn't run into any trouble. I've heard mixed things about Braiewood."

"You've never been? I figured you would have by now," I say.

"No, just haven't gotten the chance to yet I guess," Val says dryly.

I take a moment before responding. Some people are easier to talk to than others, it is embarrassing finding myself with nothing to say in conversation. "Well, it's late. I think I should head to bed, I work tomorrow after all," I tell him with a smile. I get up to leave, collecting the coin he'd set on the counter at some point and putting it in the drawer.

"Goodnight, Elaine." He says, almost coldly.

I squint my eyes hard, sucking in a breath as he says it. I nod, returning to my room for the night.

0 notes

catanddragons · 1 year ago

Text

So I did finally finish A Discovery of Witches the other day (I say finally as if it took me more than like a week and a half to read it lol).

Final thoughts!

The book was way, WAY too long. It could have easily been half the length, at least, without losing any of the plot points.

There was way too much time spent on character backstory infodumps to rival ye olde deviant art character background sheets from 2012. Too much time spent on the minute to minute of nearly every single day from September 21 until October 31. That sounds like an exaggeration but I swear to you it is not. Do you have any idea how many times I had to read about Diana scarfing down her sixth helping of eggs and toast? Too many.

There were enough interesting characters and ideas for the plot that I was at least able to put up with the meandering, but I’ll wholeheartedly admit that any time it dove into a characters backstory that didn’t have anything to do with the current situation, I’d skip it. You know what I missed? Literally nothing.

I’m sure plenty of people who don’t care for the book will whine and moan about Diana being the Extra Special Super Powerful witch with All the Magic and blah blah blah but I do not care. She’s the main character of a paranormal romance book OBVIOUSLY she’s gonna be special. That’s like. Kinda how most main characters go. Even if they’re not Magical special, they’re usually some kind of remarkable relative to those around them. Otherwise nothing interesting would happen, or they’d be a damsel in distress type that things just kind of happen to. But people would complain about that because you literally can’t make everyone happy.

But enough of that tangent - Diana spent most of the book being intentionally dense and frustrating. And when she did anything interesting it was almost always for the sake of Matthew, rather than having too much in the way of her own goals. She started the book with goals and ambitions and it felt like those just kind of got abandoned like…a third of the way though the book.

I don’t hate Matthew but he is very Edward-ish. The people around him seem more like able than he is, particularly Ysabeau and Marthe. I didn’t like Diana’s aunt Sarah at first, but she grew on me eventually. Bonus points that she’s played by Alex Kingston in the show, and I like her as River Song in Doctor Who, so. You know. Bias.

Anyway, point is the book drags. I’m interested enough in the characters and general plot that I am curious to see what happens next, but I don’t know that I’ll read the next book, at least not as a physical/ebook. Might listen to the audiobook ? Might just watch the show. Who knows!

Of course if I do read/listen to the book, I’ll feel obligated to post about it again. That ridiculous thread was the most fun thing about reading this book.

#reading #book hoard #book hoard discovery of witches #a discovery of witches #review

1 note · View note

iloveinej · 2 years ago

Text

Sick of the Silence

Theodore Nott x reader

Summary: Theodore ends you friendship over a rumor spred by Rita Skita

Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of starving, insecurities, Rita Skita

Words: 6.1k

꧁꧂

You sneakily made your way towards the tent that the competitors were sharing. The air was very damp today, and the weather was starting to get colder. But you couldn't understand how you were still freezing even though you had your old winter boots on, along with Theo's scarf tightly wrapped around your neck

When you stood infront the tent, you carefully lifted the tent entrance to the side and feeling lucky when you saw that Harry was the only one left.

Quickly, you took a leap, and Harry felt his soul leave is chest when he felt someone close his arms around him.

"Merlin! Y/n have you lost your mind." You didn't listen to him.

"First place Harry! And with a Horntail!" You gushed making Harry look down on the ground bashfully.

"Thanks, but you should've seen Cedric." He replied quietly, slowly continuing to peel off his destroyed items.

You sighed as you watched him, taking great sadness in the fact that he didn't even take an ounce of credit.

"Harry, you beat that dragon. With your own strength and mind. Be proud of yourself. Becuase I am certainly." You quietly said, before taking ahold of him again and bringing him into one more hug.

And you smiled to yourself when you felt him slowly start to hug you back.

What broke you out of the hug was a very bright flash, and the sound of a sharp giggle running through the tent. You and Harry quickly separated from your hug, and you felt an unfamiliar uneasiness set into your stomach as you watched Rita Skita and her magic quill.

She sighed dramatically.

"What a scandal." That was all that she said before she left the tent. This could never end well.

꧁꧂

Theodore had never felt the feeling that was currently streaming in his veins. His fingers were grasped tightly around the peace of news, feeling an urge to tear the picture of you and Harry hugging in to shreddes.

Theodore felt betrayed. Wether it was by you or his feelings, he didn't know. But he were aware that you were not the one to blame, it wasn't your fault that you fell for Harry. But oh how he wished that he could blame you and not himself. To not blame himself for being such a coward.

He cleared his throat and forcefully folded the paper before throwing it on the table, getting a last glimpse of the title before he dragged his feet to his first class. Not having the strength in his heart to wait for you, to afraid that tears would be spilled.

Mrs Y/l/n taking her chance with the Harry Potter after he was betrayed by miss Granger for going to his rival.

You watched as Theo hurriedly walked out from the Great Hall, not even looking your way as he exited. You furrowed your eyebrows as you could catch a glimpse of his clenched jaw and white knuckles. If you didn't know any better, he looked hurt. And it deeply concerned you since that wasn't a feeling you wanted the young boy to feel.

꧁꧂

Luna and Cho looked at you with worry in their eyes. You'd been acting strange ever since breakfast. You were not concentrating on your lessons, your hands drawing strange doodles or figures on your paper instead of writing down your notes.

They had also seen the way Theodore stormed out the dining hall this morning, but they didn't think that his pissy mood would affect yours as much as it did.

You had tried all day to get a hold of Theodore, but you almost thought that he'd disappeared from the castle grounds by how quickly he was nowhere to be seen. But the suspicions were luckily blown away when you saw him walking down the moving stairs with his friends from the Slytherin house.

"Theo!" You called, trying to catch his attention, and feeling successful when he heard you. The beat of your heart increased when searched for you, but the look that he gave you was something unusual.

The absolute anguish that his face was painted in shocked you to the core. You'd never seen him look that way at you.

But it disappeared in only a second, and instead, he looked at you with stoic eyes.

You shifted uncomfortably as he stared at you, and you felt yourself having troubles meeting them.

"Ehm, I was wondering if you'd like to study later?" The slight unsure voice that you had made you internally cringe, and you hoped that he didn't notice it.

Theodore could both hear and see your strange behavior, and it was bothering him. You didn't look like you even wanted him in your presence.

Like you were tired of him when you finally got together with Harry Potter. But he wasn't a chore for you to keep company, so he decided to make that clear. Even if something in the back was screaming at him.

"No, I'm busy." You cringed slightly at the cold tone that he used. That wasn't what you were used to. He'd never used that voice with you.

"Oh alright. I'll see you tomorrow then." But he'd already started to walk away again, trying to catch up with the rest of the Slytherins. You frowned as a dark feeling settled in your heart. It wasn't the fact that he declined. It was the fact that he sneered it at you. You'd gotten so used to his soft and melodic voice that you'd forgotten how sharp it could be.

But you did your best to not let the little spot of blackness poison your thoughts. So instead you just kept moving for the Ravenclaw tower.

꧁꧂

It went by two entire days before you had the chance to speak to him again, and you offered to study once more. And to your relief, he said yes.

So you took your books in your hands that night and slipped through the shadows, down to the Slytherin's common room. You pretended to not see anyone as Blaize Zabini let you into the common room. You knew that they weren't fond of you, best friend and almost cousin to Harry Potter, friends with their pureblood Theodore Nott.

You silently thanked Blaize and he gave you a kind smile in return. Blaize was one of the few of Theo's housemates that didn't despise you. And you were grateful for that because never in your life would you want to get on his bad side.

When you opened the door to Theo's shared room, you were immediately hit by the smell of Peach tea, old books, and cologne. The smell of Theo made your ears warm and your nose take an extra deep breath, liking the comfort that it brought.

You quietly stepped inside and walked to the bed that Theo was sitting in. His back was resting on his headboard and a charms book was resting on his lap.

He didn't blink an eye when you stepped inside, but he probably didn't even hear you in the first place.

"Hello there." You smiled at him as you laid your books down on his bed. He looked up through his eyelashes and gave you a tight-lipped smile before he went back to the book, the "smile" already gone from his face.

You bit the inside of your cheek as you wished that your brain would shut up. It wasn't un-normal for Theo not to verbally answer you, but he would make it up with a warm smile or something similar.

Feeling embarrassed, you timidly sat yourself down on the foot of the soft bed, before picking up your charms book. Your finger ran up the old and flaked back of the book as you tried to concentrate.

Although you knew that you needed to study, the feeling was overpowered by the need to take find out what was through his pretty mind.

"So, how've your days been?" Theodore looked almost startled by your question as he snapped his eyes up to meet your y/e/c ones. But when he slowly lowered them again, you felt disappointed.

"It was alright. Was quiet." He answered absent-mindedly. But you smiled lightly to yourself, knowing it was probably a bit quieter when you weren't around. He told you once that he liked how you drowned out the silence from his ears.

"It was quite nice actually."Oh. It took a while for you to register his words. But you did, and for a while, you wondered if he knew what he said. It was a big concern of yours, that you talked too much that is. You thought that he at least found it bearable.

But you didn't want him to think that he hurt you, especially if he only thought about it as a mindless joke or comment, so you gave him a chuckle that felt like it would tear your throat open for blood.

Theodore heard you swallow hard, and it was obvious why. He hadn't thought about the words as they left his mouth. But for some reason, it felt like he should hurt you for what you did to him. Even I'd you were completely innocent to it.

He felt regret hit him exactly two seconds later like a punch in his gut.

He cleared his throat, and your eyes quickly shot up to him.

"I'm tired today, so you should probably leave so that I can get some sleep." He mumbled, looking you straight in the eye with those foreign, distant eyes.

You sighed in dismay, now knowing that something wasn't right.

"Theo, are you alright?" You placed your hand on his leg. Theo swallowed down the guilt he felt and gave you a pitiful nod. But the look in your eyes told him that you didn't quite believe him, and the thought of you caring so much about him made a little smile bloom on his face.

"I'm okay, I promise." He told you lowly, and you let out another sigh, nodding slightly before starting to gather your books.

You knew that he was lying, and you despised it when he lied. Because you always assumed that he would tell you if something was bothering him.

But apparently, he required time, and you were willing to give it to him. But not too much.

Because out of the personal experience, you know that suffering in silence would get you nowhere.

"Goodnight, Theo. Sleep well." You gave him a last smile but didn't stay long enough to see him give you one back.

꧁꧂

"I don't know what's going on with him, Hermione." You sighed, dragging your hands over your face. The entire ordeal was stressing you out, and you didn't know what to do about it. You would try to talk to him, that is if you could catch him since he has been avoiding you like a plague ever since that night.

Hermione sat besides you in the dining hall, a frown on her face as she thought about your situation. She watched as you concealed the lower half of your face in your sweater clad arms in despair.

"And you did try to speak to him?" She interrogated and you nodded, finding interest in one of her quills.

"Yes, but as I said I don't think that he even wants to talk about it with me." It was quiet between you for a while, and you took a small sip of your green tea.

"Maybe he just doesn't feel comfortable around me anymore. I might have said something to provoke him?" You questioned yourself and Hermione stared at you with sympathy in her eyes.

She reached forward and grabbed one of your hands in her own.

"Don't think like that, by what you have told me in the past, that doesn't sound like Theodore at all. So stop letting those harmful thoughts get to you." You looked down and your and Hermoine's tied hands, before meeting her eyes and nodding. It soothed your anxious thoughts a little, to know that you had someone that would help you through anything.

꧁꧂

The rest of the day went by slowly, as it had the other days prior. You didn't have anything to look forward to, since Theo didn't meet you after class anymore. And you were beginning to get impatient and restless, waiting for something that you weren't sure was going to happen.

You didn't have anyone to speak about music to, among every other topic that you would sit and discuss with Theo on your days. And during this time of loneliness, you realized truly how much you depended on him. He was what continued to keep your head over the water, never letting you sink under the pressure. He was what everyone would need to survive, he was like water.

And you were slowly dying without him.

You slowly rose from your bed, realizing that you couldn't lay here with your depressing thoughts. So you decided for a a stroll in the castle.

In the middle of the courtyard sat a small group of Beauxbaton girls, which were almost the only people you'd seen this entire afternoon, but oh to behold. On the other side, in the window of the wall, sat a boy with dark curly hair with his nose in a book.

And in that moment you had been patient enough.

He didn't notice when you stopped in front of him, to intertwine with the words on the pages. You didn't want to disturb him, but this time you had to put yourself first. So you loudly cleared your throat to catch his attention.

Theodore almost jumped when he heard it, and when he met your eyes he felt like his heart was jumping out of his throat. He was not prepared to see you standing in front of him.

You tilted your head as he quickly closed his book and put down his feet from the windowsill. It was an awkward silence, no one saying anything as Theodore nervously played with his fingers.

"Hi, Theo." You took the first step, wanting this game of cat and mouse to be over. He awkwardly lifted his fingers as a reply, and you frowned as he wouldn't look at you.

"Theo, I have given you time, and I don't want to pressure you but I don't think this is good for you?" You tried your best to gain eye contact, but it didn't work so you just ended up settling beside him.

"That what isn't good for me?" He sounded almost irritated and you were a bit taken back.

"That you're pulling yourself away from people, it's not healthy."

"I'm not pulling myself away from people." He nearly interrupted me, and I fretted at his words.

"So you're only pulling yourself away from me then? Why?" Theo swallowed hard at your question. He didn't dare to tell you, but he wished that he could be so selfish so that he could. But it wasn't right of him to destroy your first relationship.

"I just don't feel like talking, why can you not understand that." He told you sternly, and you saw his awkward posture and behavior melt into something harsh and hostile once again.

"I do understand, but this thing is affecting our friendship." It was quiet, and Theodore just stared out through the opposite window, not answering, or even giving a sign that he listened.

"Theodore I miss speaking to you. And I miss being with you." Theo tensed at the mention of his full name falling from your lips, and he saw you lean back as he suddenly stood up.

"Well, I can't handle you speaking to me right now. I'm tired of it, and I need space." He looked you right in the eye when he said it. And you felt your chest contract painfully as you saw no regret in his eyes.

You looked down on your lap, not knowing how to continue after your unsuccessful attempt to get him talking. And now only that but his words were beginning to hurt.

"I'm sorry Theo, I didn't want to push you." You said, your despair stuck in your throat like poison. He didn't answer, only looking down upon you with empty eyes. You tried to search for any feeling in his face, but nothing was shown, not even a small ounce of sadness.

Theodore slowly started to walk past you and you followed him with your eyes as he walked. You felt helpless and afraid. Like if you didn't do something right now, he would leave you forever.

A painful huff left Theodore's pink lips when he felt something squeezing him painfully hard around his slender waist. And he didn't have to look down to know that he would see your y/h/c hair, and he certainly didn't want to, since he would be at his knees, apologizing the second he did. So he just stood there and stared. Not move his arms to embrace you, but neither moves out of your hug.

You waited for him to embrace you like he always did. For his arms to envelope your head while he stroked your hair. But nothing came. His chest was tense against your cheek, but you didn't care. You were not going to let him go until he at least patted you on the back.

"Y/n, let go." He tried to instruct you, and he sighed when you only tighten your arms harder around him. He let his head fall to the side in frustration. It didn't matter that he liked to have your arms around him, because right now it was painful, and it was not because of your hand grip.

A spark of hope ignited in your chest as you felt him move his arms, and you felt yourself relax when his fingertips grace your sleeves.

A yelp left your throat as you felt his slender hands take a hard grip around your wrists. He easily pried your hands apart as you were in slight shock, and he swiftly threw your arms off him before storming down the corridor. Past a certain black-haired male with round glasses, with good ears to be added.

You watched him walk, to get away from you as if you were the pest. Labored breaths escaped your nose as your tears were kept at bay. Storming away from the corridor, you needed to find a place to be alone at.

꧁꧂

Later you found yourself on a stone staircase with your head leaned against Harry's shoulder and his arm wrapped around your shoulder. He tried to console your choked cries, but nothing seemed to help. He realized that this was the first time that you'd cried in front of him. Remus used to tell him how you were a sensitive child when young, but Harry would've never guessed. Especially by the lack of despair, you showed during the years that you'd known him.

A cold wind went through the open wall, and he watched as the sky cried with you.

Footsteps were heard in the distance, but your cries made you unable to hear them. Harry turned his head towards the opening as he heard someone stop in it, and was surprised to see Nott in all his glory, looking at you with guilty eyes.

Harry suspects that he didn't notice him at first because it seemed to take a second before realizing whose arms you were in. And when Theodore met his eyes, they turned into stone. But Harry wasn't blind.

He saw the heartbreak since it matched the eyes that Hermoine had for Ron after I said something idiotic.

꧁꧂

When Mattheo and Blaize entered their shared room, they were expecting to find Theodore with either you, sleeping, or his nose in a new book. Not his back faced against the door, head in his hands and elbow resting on his legs as pitiful sniffles echoed through the room.

Their conversation came to an end when they realized what was happening, and they gave each other a look before walking up to the bed.

"Nott, what's up with you?" Mattheo asked carelessly, earning a jab in the ribs.

"Don't be a twat." Blaize hissed.

Theodore quickly wiped his cheeks and eyes before sitting up in his bed, leaning his back on the head board with bent knees.

He didn't look at them.

"Nothing of your concern." His voice cracked.

He did end up telling about the things that'd happen, obviously not in detail, but enough of the story so that his two friends could understand, and later leave them alone.

Blaize couldn't decide on where to stand. Theodore was his friend, and he understood what situation he'd gotten himself into. But he also thought that Theodore had been a dick.

"Come on Nott, it's only a girl. There so much better things in the world than girls." Mattheo casually said from his bed while he changed his rooms for his evening clothes.

Blaize snorted from his place on Theo's bed, and Mattheos head emidiatly snapped towards him, sending him a deadly glare.

"Like you know how to fall in love Mattheo." Blaize adjusted his collar at the emotionless voice of Theodore, and he waited patiently for Mattheo to snap at him. But was mildly surprised when he only laughed at him.

"I'm serious, I don't know what to do. I don't even think I can do anything."

"But it's just a crush right? It will fade in time Theo." Blaize thought that he's words would bring a little bit of comfort to the distressed Slytherin. He wasn't right.

"I haven't met someone that cared for me like that since my mother died."

The room went airily quiet. And both of them turned towards Theodore, who was again carrying tears in his long lashes.

꧁Two months later꧂

Second tournament

He felt weak. And the screaming of different students around him was hurting his eardrums. He wished that he could crawl back to his bed, or maybe just to lay down on the damp wood under his feet.

Thedore looked sick. His face had gained a new gray colour to it, and usual circles under his eyes had increased tenfold. It had even gotten so bad that his clothes wasn't fitting as they should anymore.

He anxiously chewed on his nails. He hadn't caught a glimpse of you in two entire days. He was aware that you weren't talking anymore, that you haven't had an interaction since that day two months ago. But he felt guilty, but he's chance to apologize was ruined by his pettiness when he saw you in Harry Potters arms, and since then he thought that it was to late. Though it didn't stop him to keep you in check.

Ever since that day, he'd watched over you. Not following you or starring at you. Only making sure that you were still there. He remember those days that he hadn't caught a glimpse of you. He wouldn't be able to sleep, loud thoughts making it so quiet in the room as he wondered where you were.

The water started to ripple when he saw Cedric Diggory emerge with Cho Chang in his arms, your friend.

The Hogwart's students exploded in shouts and jubilation of glee as he was pulled up from the watter.

Theodore didn't give to shits about who won. The need to find you was growing by the second, making his mind go hazy.

The Durmstrangs shouted proudly as Viktor Krum came out of the water, Hermione Granger besides him, looking very confused and cold.

Another one of her friends.

Gasps, shouts and screams was heard when, instead of Harry, two girls apeared in the water.

Your head violently turned as you heard the shouts around you. And you realised quickly that you'd been rescued from the second task. But you didn't mask your confusion as you were met with a young blond girl instead of Harry, but you didn't have any time to waste so you quickly helped her towards the stand.

When you were finally dragged up people started to surround you with blankets, pats on the back, and even a few hugs from the closest.

You didn't even notice when Harry was shot up from the water since you were shaking in your shoes while feeling over stimulated by the people around you.

"Y/n!" You didn't get time to see the person that had desperately shouted your name, becuase before you even had time to think, arms had circled your neck and you were quite forcefully pulled into someone. And when your nose hit their chest you emidiatly realised who it was.

Theo was holding you in a death grip, squeezing you as you slowly circled you arms around him.

"Theo." You whispered, and with the call of his name he let you go, but he didn't leave you. He messily took of his green and grey scarf, and began to wrap it around your neck and when he was done with that he darted to quickly wipe your still wet face with hid cold hands, felling desperate to feel your skin.

"Theo." He stopped, hands shaking and eyes wide. You didn't look at him with anger. You didn't look at him with a sad eye. You looked worried. His face was slimmer and he certainly didn't look all to well. He was breathing heavily, as if he just ha been pulled out of a nightmare.

He watched intently as you raised your hand to his cheek, and butterfly erupted in his stomach. He almost wanted to cry when you stopped yourself.

You hadn't forgotten how he treated you. You wanted to, but the actions had already been done and the words had been thrown. And he hadn't even apologized.

"Nott!" Mattheo roared as the crowd started to leave and Theadore requlantly stood up before leaving you and his scarf to go to his friends. You followed him with your eyes as he got into the boat, taking some time to just look on his face.

He is so beutiful. With hid straight nose, sharp jaw and big tired brown eyes. You wanted to blame the heat on your cheeks on the drastical temperature changes, you couldn't believe that you were still so in love with him after everything he's done.

You yelped as you were hoisted up on your legs by two pair of arms and smiled when you saw a drenched Hermione and a happy Ron on your sides.

"What was that about?" Hermione asked you, not hiding her excitement.

"Yeah, Nott just hugged you infront of the entire bloody school, what's gotten into that bloke." Ron said in disbelief as you began to walk towards the boats.

"Oh don't you get Ronald, it's love." Hermione smiled happily, and you laughed as Ronald shook his head until you realised what she said.

"What do you mean by 'love'?" You eyed her carefully, but she casually ignored you as she sat down on a boat, dragging you and Ron with her.

"She has a bet with Fred and George about who's going to confess first. Fred and George thinks that Nott is going to confess first by the last trial." Ron explained, before Hermione interrupted him.

"And I believe that Theodore is going to confess sometime around the second task, more exactly, today." You looked at Hermoine with a fish mouth. In your entire time of knowing Hermoine, you have never heard her make a bet. Especially not on a so stupid thing as your love life.

"What makes you belive that? He hasn't spoken to me in two months!" You exclaimed while holding up two figners.

Hermione looked at with an odd expression.

"I'm sorry are you blind? Have you seen him the last week. He's been looking at you like a homeless kitten. It's sad really." Hermione looked forwards again and you only shook your head at her.

"But why did no one bet on me to confess first?" You slapped your hand of your mouth as you realised what you said, and Hermoine let out a gasp.

"So you do like him!?" You hushed her quickly, looking around you to make sure that no one was listening to you conversation.

"Shut it, I don't need the entire school to know." You hissed when the boat came to a stop.

"Oh belive me, the entire school does already know." Ron concluded as he stepped out from the boat. Hermione glared at him as they walked, but he only smiled lightly.

Suddenly, they stopped and you casted your eyes forwards, only to see Mattheo Riddle and Lorenzo Bekshire standing infront of you. You looked in between them quiestongly.

"Uh, hello." Lorenzo said bashfully with a smile on his face. Ron and Hemoine looked doubtfully between the two boys as they stood infront of them, Lorenzo trying to make small talk while Mattheo looked like he'd rather be anywhere else than infront of them.

"Alright that's enough." Mathheo interrupted Lorenzos talk about the weather before grabbing you by your upper arm and dragging you away from your friends.

"Come on, we need to talk." You looked in panic back towards Ron and Hermoine, who booth looked as confused as you felt. You looked at Lorenzo as he caught up with you, and gave you a bright smile, which you returned with an unsure smile from yourself.

You wanted to ask where you were going, but you didn't have to when you saw the rest of the slytherins, along with Theo standing there and talking mindlessly.

You emidiatly tensed up and tried to struggle out of Mattheos hard grip.

"Nuh uh. You two are going to speak to each other today. I'm tired of getting woken up by Notts crying in the middle of the bloody night." He mumbled, and began to drag you towards them again.

Had Theo been crying?

"Nott!" Mattheo yelled, gaining the attention of the small group. Theodore felt his heart drop when he saw who was with them. As if it were an instict, he tried to find a way out of it, not really feeling the need to meet your dissepointment for real.

But a hand on his holder stopped his head from moving around.

"Theodore, this is your only chance to make it right. You have to tell her." Blaize whispered, and Theodore pursed lips knowing that he was right. So with heavy feet, he walked up to you.

Lorenzo gave you a nodd, before walking along with the rest of the group, who was giving you strange looks before Lorenzo had started to sho them away.

It was quiet, the only thing that was heard was the splashing of the waves against the shore, and the wind blowing in the trees.

"Theodore wha-."

"How are you and Harry?" You watched as his face contorted into a fake smile, stuffing his hands even further down his black coat.

"Me and Harry?" He looked at you with his eyebrows together, as if it was obvious that it was you and Harry.

"It's... good? I'm sorry I don't really understand." Theodore sighed as he kicked in the dirt, feeling anxious towards your calculating eyes.

"Nothing."

"Are you still cold?" He asked, finally finding the courage to meet your eye once again. He swallowed hard when he saw your sad frown as you shook your head, trying to apear to be glader than you really were.

"No, your scarf is warm." Now it was your turn to look away. His big brown eyes were starring at with the same softness that you hadn't seen for two months.

"I-.. I'm sorry. I never meant to be so... distant." He chocked out. He looked like he was in pain. And he probably felt like it to. You looked at him as he swallowed and harkeld as he waited for you to say something.

"Did i do something, Theodore?" You said in low voice. For the first time ever, you felt intimidated by his precens. The way his body slightly towers your own, how his eyes constantly loomed over you face.

"No. Of course not." He sighed after a beat of silence. He took a step closer to you, not feeling comfortable to be so far away from you. An you looked at him with questioning eyes.

"Theodore, if you're going to say something i want you to say it now, otherwise I'll leave." It was quiet for a moment and Theodore felt stuck.

He watched as you sighed deeply, looking down on the ground before swiftly walking by him.

Theodore reacted instantly. Before you were able to walk any further, he quickly took a strong hold on your wrist forcing you to stop. And you ended up standing shoulder against shoulder, with his against the lake and your eyes on the leaf covored ground, turned towards the forest.

"Y/n." He said. You didn't react.

"Y/n, look at me." He sternly ordered, and you could feel that he was staring at the side of your head. His hand slightly tightened in an almost possessive way around your wrist, and you couldn't lie that it brought a nervous feeling to your stomach.

His hand slowly started to raise from your wrist, his fingertips slowly tracing the length of your arm, and you wanted to belive that you could feel the warmth of his fingertips through the layers of your soaked clothes and blankets.

"I want to be selfish." He spoke lowly and melancholy. You were confused because it didn't even sound like he was speaking to you.

His continued up towards your face, and you took a deep breath with you felt his knuckles starting to steadily graze your cheek.

"I love you."

You snapped your head towards him feeling anger rise faster than a rocket in you chest. Angry tears hung in your lashes, and maybe in different scenario you would have been happier, but your butterflies had no chance do defeat the flames of your anger.

"You're a coward." His face fell the second he heard your words.

"I know my love." He sadly smiled at me as he soothed his palm over you cheek.

"You didn't speak to me for months, only because you liked me? You hurt me, Theo." You tried to confirm what you were hearing, but it was hard to keep your voice steady.

"I didn't speak to you for months because I'm in love with you." His forehead made contact with the side of your head.

"I didn't speak to you for months because if I did I would become selfish, and if I did I would destroy everything that you and Potter have together." He slowly lowered his head, so that he could peck you by the ear before he left, but was disappointed when you abruptly pulled away from him.

"What is this constant japing about me and Harry?! I have never in my life been in love with him, let alone dating him!" You shouted, your frustration running amock as you realized how utterly dumb Theodore Nott was.

"You ignored me for two months because you thought I was in love with Harry?" You quietened down when you saw the startled eyes that Theo gave you after you shouted.

He didn't answer, only continued to stare at you with big eyes.

"Theodore Nott, if you had just told me about your feelings nothing of this would have happened. I would be yours by now if you just to-" Something warm touched your top lip, which made your voice get lost in the autumn air. Your eyes were blown wide as you saw Theo being so close to you with your eyes closed, his big hands on your cheeks and his soft lips on yours.

He slowly cracked his eyes open, and he felt his cheeks become red when he saw your pupil-blown eyes starring at him

"Close your eyes." He mumbled shyly against your lips, and when you did as he said, he collected one more kiss. This on being directly in the middle of your lips.

Your arms hung limply at your sides as you tried your best to kiss him back.

When he pulled away his breath was much shakier than he intended it to be, and he felt embarrassed when a lonely tear escaped his eye.

You quickly stood up on your toes, and kissed him right under his closed eye, tasting the salt of his tear on your lips as you pulled away.

"Theo."

"I'm sorry. I should never have done that to you."

"Theo I think I'm in love with you."

꧁ end ꧂

I think it was a little half as but whatevs

Thanks to @eunoiathewriter for helping me with the idea!

6K notes · View notes