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lokiskitten · 4 years ago

Note

could you please do one where the reader seduces him at a public place / dinner , and leaves him really frustrated and turned on , and he can't even react , but the reader gets it back once they get home

Tom Hiddleston | public teasing

Tom Hiddleston x fem!reader

plot : for your first year anniversary, Tom decided to take you out on a romantic date. However, you find a way to distract your mind from the presence of the paparazzis by physically teasing your boyfriend. Once the two of you get home, the man is finally able to teach you a lesson.

warnings : verbal teasing, public teasing, smut, dirty talking, light bondage, spanking, unprotected sex.

Today marked the one year anniversary of both you and your lovely boyfriend Tom. You absolutely adored him, especially as he constantly filled you with happiness no matter his busy schedule. Through filming and attending set, Tom always made sure to shoot you a few texts in order to reassure your anxiety and to make sure that you knew how much he loved you. His fame tended to disturb you at first, but time had allowed you to get used to the intrusive media and paparazzis. Besides, Tom always made sure to keep you out of the spotlights as much as he could.

But tonight, another priority turned out to be more important than avoiding the press. Your boyfriend had decided to take you out for dinner to a fancy restaurant, making sure that everything would be perfect for you to enjoy. You felt excited indeed, but anxiety still bubbled in your stomach due to the constant fear of being photographed against your will.

Sitting down at the fancy table, your elbows rested against the edge of the table whilst your palms anxiously rubbed against one another. Your orbs scanned the candle which stood between you and your boyfriend, this romantic detail truly dipping you into the mood for some extra wine. Tom was going on with his meal, cutting his steak with the help of his fork and knife whilst you found yourself lost in your thoughts. Quickly enough, the grown man noticed how dizzy you looked and couldn’t help but put his stencils down.

“Hey, sweetheart?” He asked before passing his napkin against his lips. Your eyes diverted up towards him, eyebrow raising slightly whilst your hand reached out for your glass of wine. “What would you think about going to the park tomorrow? I heard there’s gonna be lovely weather.” Tom stated, sincerely doubting that this stupid statement would change anything to your anxious mindset. His large hand reached out for yours, thumb rubbing against the back of your hand in order to bring warmth to ease your physical distress.

You simply shrugged though allowed Tom’s hand to take yours, finding comfort in his touch. “I’m sorry.. this was supposed to be a lovely night. I just feel anxious.” You explained, putting your glass down before pulling your hand away in order to grab your own stencils. You finally began to eat, enjoying how nice this food tasted which wasn’t surprising seeing how fancy and elegant this place was. “I understand. But hey, it’s just us right now.” Tom affirmed confidently before going back to eating his meal just like you were doing.

Upon hearing this sentence, your eyes looked up at his focused facial features as mischievous thoughts built up in your mind. At least, it helped you think about something else than the potential presence of the paparazzis. “Just us?..” you asked on an innocent tone whilst your foot gently started to brush against his clothed ankle. Feeling the unexpected sensation against his leg, Tom looked up at you with rather confused eyes. Though this didn’t stop you, in contrary, it only enhanced your inner mischief.

Progressively, your foot moved up to his inner thigh before starting to press against his crotch, gently massaging his prominent bulge as if the two of you were sitting in your living room. Tom immediately reached underneath the table, taking ahold of your ankle in order to put to an end your teasing mannerisms. He looked to his left and then to his right, a happy grin now appearing onto your face upon seeing the distress of your boyfriend. Tom then settled his eyes on you as his large hand squeezed your ankle as a way of begging you to stop this evil action.

“What are you doing?” He whispered whilst leaning in gently, serious eyes staring into your soul. You giggled, biting down onto your tongue in order to stop yourself from laughing too loudly and avoid to attract attention on the two of you. Tom noticed that you were in a playful mood, a smirk now appearing onto his face as he decided to give in your little game and allow you to believe that you had won. Noticing this detail you agreed to pull your foot away, delicately resting it back onto the floor before taking a sip of your beverage.

[ ... ]

About a hour later, the two of you had now arrived back home, a yawn escaping your open mouth as you allowed your keys to fall down into the pot which was in the entrance of the apartment. “Jesus.. I feel absolutely exhausted. I’m so full.” You affirmed tiredly before stretching your arms whilst Tom hung his jacket onto the coat hanger. However, before you could even reach for the living room, you found yourself being suddenly pushed against the wall by none but your beloved boyfriend.

A giggle escaped your lips as your brain understood what this was all about, Tom’s stern look being enough to make you understand that he was now getting revenge for what you had previously done back at the restaurant. Guttural groans echoed behind his closed lips, blue eyes scanning your body as his head titled hungrily. You continued to playfully giggle, arms attempting to move up to his shoulders though without ever succeeding due to his own arms being in the way. This was a game the two of you had progressively developed throughout your relationship, a personal kink you both enjoyed to involve during intercourses.

“You deserve proper punishment.” Tom affirmed as his blue eyes finally looked up at yours, his facial features remaining strict. You knew that your part of the job was to refrain from putting up an attitude nor laughing, yet you couldn’t help but smile due to your playful mood which was progressively taking over your body and senses. Taking ahold of your arm, the man dragged you all the way up to the bedroom in a hurry, closing the door behind the two of you for extra privacy even though no one else stood in this shared apparement of yours. When Tom set you free, you stepped back towards the bed as you watched your boyfriend tear open his fancy shirt.

The buttons fell onto the floor, though Tom didn’t truly care as he knew that he had a bunch of other shirts waiting for him in his closet. You bit down onto your bottom lip, head tilting in a teasing manner as you waited for the grown man to finally give you the punishment you deserved. Approaching your silhouette, his hands pushed you down onto the bed before he took the initiative to remove his belt. Not once did you flinch, being fully aware that your boyfriend would never do anything to hurt you and that not even unintentionally. Tom took ahold of your ankles and dragged you close to his body and immediate reach, using the leather product in order to lock your hands together for good.

With you being at his mercy, a mischievous smirk now appeared onto Tom’s face as he looked down at you. “Look at you now...” he began, head tilting in awe. “Not so fierce anymore, huh? Do you still feel like teasing me?” The man questioned, earning nothing from you but a simple smile. He squinted his eyes, brain thinking about all the things he wanted to do to you. Meanwhile, his veiny hand brushed against your elevated knee, sending chills down your spine. Both of his hands suddenly reached down for your shirt, tearing it apart with the help of his natural strength he had previously used to reap open his own upper piece of clothing.

You yelped, chest now exposed to him as warmth started to build up in your needy crotch. You wanted him; you absolutely needed him. “My sweet girl.” He affirmed before flipping you around onto your stomach. Your bum was now exposed to him, his hand reaching down for your hips which he gripped in order to pull your ass upwards. This position felt uncomfortable, but you remained patient as you knew how good it would turn out to feel once your boyfriend would finally be rocking his hips against yours. “I’ll teach you what it costs to tease me in public.” Tom promised as his hand caressed and made its way up your back.

“Do the loki voice-!” You began only to be brutally interrupted by the sensation of Tom’s hand squeezing the back of your head. “No talking.” He ordered, the familiar mischievous tone answering your demand which caused a smirk to appear on your face. This specific tone was something thousands of girls dreamt to be submitted to, yet only you was able to enjoy it live and stereo. Besides, Tom secretly enjoyed it too. You giggled, allowing your boyfriend to carry on with his own plans which you would gladly accept to submit to.

Finally, Tom took the initiative to pull your pants and underwear down to your mid thighs, exposing your wet cunt to his sight and the lustful air which filled the room. You moaned, betraying the fact that you were indeed enjoying this little session of pure revenge. Again, Tom chuckled darkly. His fingers moved down to your moist entrance, gently rubbing up and down your slit in order to properly spray the wetness around before starting to focus onto your clit. He teased it for a couple of seconds, rubbing circles against the hard bud which was meant to hide underneath its protective hood.

You moaned, head tilting back slightly before Tom decided to pull his fingers away from your core. Pouting sadly face to this disappointment, your head turned to the side in a desperate attempt to see what the man was now doing. Unfortunately, this gesture didn’t turn out to be any successful. He was now working on removing his own pants, allowing the piece of clothing to fall down to his ankles as his hardening cock was set free. His tip brushed against your wet slit, his warmth mixing with yours as pants started to escape his parted lips.

“Tommy..” you whimpered submissively, earning a harsh spank against your naked bum for stepping past his main rule. He shushed you, his thumb and index finger taking a gentle hold of his shaft in order to properly guide it into your wetness. Spreading your swollen lips with the help of his other hand, Tom managed to ease himself inside of you rather easily, the sensation of his hardness sliding inside of your core causing you the moan out of relief. You probably wouldn’t have been able to handle waiting any longer.

“Ahh-.. such a dirty girl.” He praised, hands now moving away from both of your respective genitals in order to take a firm hold of your hips. Tom was soon to reach balls deep, brushing past most of your sensitive spots and causing your legs to tremble gently. He felt indulgent enough to offer you a couple of seconds to adjust to his size- even though you’ve felt it plenty of times by now, which he was aware of. The thrusting process was soon to occur, gaining in confidence and harshness as seconds passed by.

Tom winced and moaned lustfully, still holding onto your hips as if his life depended on it. You added up to the melody by allowing your own moans to escape your lips, enjoying the way his tip repetitively rubbed against your g-spot and hit your cervix. Your joint hands gripped onto the bedsheets, eyelids shutting close so that your brain would be fully able to enjoy what was going on and building up in your lower abdomen. “Fuck- your going to make me cum sooner than...” Tom stated through his winces, abs contracted as he continued to thrust in and out of you.

Before the two of you could know it, Tom’s shaft throbbed and clenched, semen spraying out of his urethra and landing against your pulsating cervix. You moaned in awe, Tom towering over your body as his hands now fell beside your head. His digits clenched against the bedsheets, guttural moans escaping his shaky lips as he didn’t refrain from ejaculating all of his sperm inside of your stretched wetness. Your bum moved up against his hips, enhancing the intense contact whilst your boyfriend took time to properly wash his orgasm away.

Once he was finally done coming inside of you, the older man pulled out and allowed his tired body to fall down onto the bed besides your recovering self. The two of you panted, your body relaxing against the bed sheets as it was now your mind’s turn to recover from this intense intercourse.

I hope you guys enjoyed this! Feel free to leave a request. ❤️

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years ago

Text

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 7 - ao3 -

Lan Qiren woke up with a pounding headache and no memory of having gone to bed.

This would not have been a surprise had he been at home, as his routine was blissfully static and required no thought whatsoever – each item he needed in its proper place, each movement mapped out through years of practice, his entire body trained such that he would automatically begin to go through the necessary acts at the appropriate time and would immediately begin to feel sleepy once he started the sequence – but it was highly notable that such a thing would occur while he was out of the Cloud Recesses, where each day’s sleep would only be the same in terms of the time at which he fell asleep.

In this case in particular, he also felt sore all over – his head, as mentioned, but also his upper arms and, oddly, his right knee. Had he been exercising unwisely? The bed in the room he had been given at the Sun Palace was not that nice, too hard and unyielding, but it wasn’t enough to cause this sort of aching…

“I will see to it that the next bed lives up to your stringent standards.”

Lan Qiren’s eyes shot open and he sat upright at once: that was Wen Ruohan’s voice.

“What are you doing in my –” he started to say, then stopped.

Wen Ruohan was not in his bedroom.

He wasn’t in his bedroom.

He didn’t even recognize this bedroom.

It was massive, for one thing: a full suite, the way the hanshi was back at home, with place for a bed and a table and plenty more besides. The bed was similar in style to the one in the room he had been assigned but larger in scale – made of dark wood and covered in the red sun motif like all the other décor, but over twice as broad and an extra chi in length, and the brocade fabric used to upholster it was considerably more lush and luxurious and, admittedly, more comfortable than what he’d been sleeping on in the Sun Palace’s guest quarters. The room itself was the same, decorated in luxury extending to the point of opulence: there was a painting scroll on one wall that if genuine would be worth more than everything Lan Qiren owned put together, young master of a Great Sect or not, and on the other wall hung six swords, each more glorious than the next, and he suspected if he knew more about weaponry he would be able to recite their names. Even the red sun that was painted on every ceiling here glittered with embedded rubies and spiritual stones, emanating pure qi – a tremendous waste, each one of them sufficient to be a cultivation sect’s precious treasure.

Amidst all this luxury, Wen Ruohan was sitting not far away from the bed, a book held loosely in his hands – it was as if he’d been waiting for Lan Qiren to awaken.

“I think you’ll find, in fact,” Wen Ruohan said, and his eyes were glittering the way they had been the day before when it had been Lao Nie he’d been looking at, full of malice and self-indulgent amusement, “that this is my bedroom.”

This was not a surprise, but rather the only logical conclusion.

Not that it explained why Lan Qiren was here.

“Did I – fall asleep?” he asked uncertainly, though surely that must be the reason. “And you – brought me here?”

“You did, and I did,” Wen Ruohan confirmed, and seemed amused for some reason. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Lan Qiren wracked his brain, which was hurting and unhelpful and slower even than its usual plodding pace. “…I was thinking that liquor tastes vile.”

Wen Ruohan’s smile broadened. “Mm. It seems that you inherited your grandfather’s head for wine.”

Lan Qiren’s grandfather was one of the elders who refused to obey the rule against alcohol. He had also, in his later years, developed a most un-Lan-like fondness for wine.

He had not at any point developed a tolerance for it.

Lan Qiren closed his eyes in a wince. He must have made a complete fool of himself!

“This foolish junior apologizes to the Sect Leader for his misbehavior,” he said. He wanted to lift his hands to salute, but the movement, when he started it, set off his stomach, and he was forced to wrap his arms around his midsection instead.

There was a rustling sound, robes moving as Wen Ruohan rose to his feet, but Lan Qiren kept his eyes stubbornly closed, fearing that any further input would cause him to bring up everything he’d consumed the night before – only to open them in shock a moment later when he felt a finger press against the acupoint between his eyes, a warm stream of spiritual energy pouring in to cleanse away the nausea and pain of his headache.

Of his hangover.

He had a hangover.

Wen Ruohan, the mighty Sect Leader Wen, was providing him with medical attention to deal with his hangover.

There weren’t going to be words for how much he was going to get punished when he got home.

“Thank you, Sect Leader Wen,” Lan Qiren croaked, feeling hot all over with unending mortification. He had truly been foolish to think that just because there was only one night left in the Nightless City there was little danger of him repeating the mistakes of the past – he had no face left to speak of.

“Oh, no need to be so formal,” Wen Ruohan said, drawing out the words in a drawl. “Not after such a memorable night.”

Lan Qiren did not want to know what he did to make the night get described as memorable. He did not.

Especially not since Wen Ruohan was so obviously enjoying himself over it.

Of course, he wasn’t an idiot: he might be slow and bad at social cues, might find it difficult to understand the unspoken or keep up with sarcasm, but even he knew what was being implied here.

An older man with a younger one, liquor shared, a bedroom…

Yes, he understood the implication.

He just wasn’t stupid enough to believe it.

Lan Qiren folded his hands together and held his head up high.

“It is good that the Sect Leader did not take insult at my foolishness,” he said stiffly. “I thank you for your care and attention, and regret the burden I placed upon you.”

If anything, Wen Ruohan looked even more amused. “Such dignity, little Lan. You’re not even going to ask what happened?”

“This junior is only sixteen,” Lan Qiren said, still stiff and icy. “There is nothing that could have taken place without Sect Leader Wen’s approval, and naturally Sect Leader Wen would not permit this junior to offend his dignity.”

There, he thought with some satisfaction. That neatly turned the situation around: even if something untoward had occurred, which honestly Lan Qiren did not believe past that first initial moment of panic – even putting aside the fact that he wasn't anywhere near sore enough for something like that to have occurred, Wen Ruohan was not known to succumb easily to lust, nor was he so eager for war that he would recklessly try to deflower the son of another Great Sect while the latter was intoxicated for the first time – the blame would fall squarely on Wen Ruohan’s head, not Lan Qiren’s.

Wen Ruohan laughed, understanding perfectly well what Lan Qiren meant.

“You would think so,” he said, sounding almost approving of Lan Qiren’s rule lawyering. “I would have thought so, too, but I find that you Lan have truly remarkable arm strength…especially when trying to keep your conversational partner from escaping while you explain the difference between what the Lan sect consider to be fundamental rules and those considered ancillary.”

Lan Qiren blanched.

That was worse than what he’d thought – because unlike the notion of him making unwanted advances (or receiving them, for that matter), it was plausible. Terribly, painfully plausible.

“Oh, yes. All five iterations of the debate.”

Oh no.

“Four sect discussions. Seventeen separate texts on the subject, not counting later commentaries. Sixty-four subsidiary rulings, all of which you were very enthusiastic in recounting - and here I was thinking that your Wall of Discipline had a surfeit of rules, when in fact it was only the beginning. Apparently, I underestimated you.”

Lan Qiren buried his face in his hands as if that would make it stop.

“Still, I suppose I’ll have to accustom myself to hearing more about the rules in the future,” Wen Ruohan mused. “We’ll be spending far more time together, after all, on account of our sworn brotherhood.”

Lan Qiren looked up and opened his mouth, then stopped.

He had nothing to say.

His mind was absolutely blank, a state which had never before occurred.

“Forgive me,” he finally spat out. “Our – what?”

Wen Ruohan smiled at him with eyes full of poison and a mouth full of teeth.

“Sworn brotherhood,” he said casually, as if it was nothing. “You were saying that you regretted not being able to see more of the Nightless City before you left, and that you could only leave the Cloud Recesses to visit family, so we became sworn brothers.”

“We did not.”

“Oh, but we did,” Wen Ruohan said. “We drank mixed wine and swore all the appropriate oaths – I have the written version here, if you’d like to see.”

The piece of paper he put in front of Lan Qiren was recognizably in Lan Qiren’s own hand, although his normally impeccable calligraphy was rather wobbly. It was still readable, though, and the first few clauses very clearly laid out a sworn brotherhood oath.

Lan Qiren stared at it.

“We – but we can’t be sworn brothers,” he said blankly. “We’re – you’re two generations older than me. Am I supposed to call you da-ge?”

“No one has called me da-ge since my youngest brother died,” Wen Ruohan mused, and Lan Qiren was abruptly reminded of the rumors, never confirmed, that that particular death had come at Wen Ruohan’s own hands following a challenge for the seat of sect leader. “It’ll be very charming, I’m sure.”

“But…”

Wen Ruohan said nothing, but only smiled at him.

Lan Qiren looked down at the paper.

He didn’t understand what was happening.

He tried to go over it again in his mind: he had left the competition when the celebration had started, he had wandered the halls, he had tried to obey his brother’s instructions in avoiding Wen Ruohan, and when that failed, he had obeyed him in trying to be obedient. He had drunk liquor for the first time, and he had no memory thereafter until he had woken up here and now, in Wen Ruohan’s bedroom, with Wen Ruohan saying that they had –

He didn’t think Wen Ruohan was teasing him over this, though. Not the way he had so obviously been with his implications that they had used the bedroom for purposes other than sleeping.

Not with evidence, written in his own hand.

He didn’t understand.

How could this have happened?

“…did we really?” he whispered, half-hoping against hope that it was still a tease, still a joke, still – something, anything, other than what it was. That Wen Ruohan was just waiting for him to declare that he believed him, to demonstrate dismay, and then he would tell him the truth.

“Yes,” Wen Ruohan said instead, inexorable. “We did.”

Lan Qiren’s mind fell into chaos.

He didn’t understand.

“You’re shaking,” Wen Ruohan observed. “Ah, little Lan – don’t tell me it’s now that you’re scared?”

Lan Qiren’s hands were in fact shaking, he observed, and he put them over his face.

“Why would you do that?” he asked, his whole body starting to rock back and forth in his distress. “Why would you – with me – an oath of brotherhood can’t be taken lightly –”

“It can’t be,” Wen Ruohan said, and for some reason he sounded satisfied. “Certainly not for someone like you, little Lan, who always keeps their word and does not lie.”

“But why?” Lan Qiren asked, his voice rising almost into a plaintive wail. “Our sects aren’t even allies.”

“They are now,” Wen Ruohan said, and put his hand on the back of Lan Qiren’s neck. It felt hot against his skin, like a hot stone used for massage – a little too hot to tolerate for very long. “You know the obligations of a sworn brother oath as well as I. My duty as the elder brother is to guide you and care for you, support you and yours, and in return you are to obey me and be guided by me.”

Did Wen Ruohan want a spy in the Lan sect? Lan Qiren wondered wildly. But surely there were easier ways than this – not only would he make a terrible spy, with his clumsiness and his terrible social skills and his inability not to take everything seriously, but it would be simple enough for his sect to counter such a move. All they would need to do would be to cast him out…

His rocking intensified.

Wen Ruohan brought his other arm around him and pulled him close until Lan Qiren’s forehead, with its forehead ribbon still firmly in place, was pressed against his chest.

“Don’t cry, little brother,” he crooned. “Am I to allow a priceless painting to be kept by those that see it only for its use as spare kindling? A peerless treasure sword left to prop up a door?”

“You have a half-dozen swords hanging on your wall, each more priceless than the next, and all of them rusting away for lack of use!” Lan Qiren cried out. “Even if it’s only a door, at least it’s – it’s my – my brother…”

“Do not worry about your brother, undeserving as he is of your sincerity. Qingheng-jun has been trying to get concessions out of me this entire conference,” Wen Ruohan said. His breath was warm against Lan Qiren’s hair. “I’ve been refusing, but now I’ll grant them. He won’t punish you.”

“That’s not how that works. Punishment isn’t inherently bad; it’s meant to correct and guide the individual – the failure of good conduct will always be my own, no matter the result –”

“What I have taken into my hand, no one yet lives who would dare seek to take away,” Wen Ruohan said. “Anyway, it’s too late to regret now, isn’t it? What’s done is done. Don’t you have a rule like that?”

Lan Qiren sniffed. “No. There are at least four that could potentially qualify as having similar underlying meanings, but none directly on point.”

Wen Ruohan huffed. “Little Lan, if I tore out your heart, would you have time to cite one of your sect rules before you died?”

“…maybe if it was a short one?” Lan Qiren said, blinking at the strange question; his lashes brushed against Wen Ruohan’s lapel. “I mean, there’s a difference between ‘Be loyal and filial’ and ‘Set the wise as your teacher and the moral as your example’, isn’t there? And of course you’d have to consider whether in tearing out the heart you impeded the lungs, and how much time it would take the exsanguination to take effect…”

He was calming down, he realized, and pulled back out of Wen Ruohan’s arms, blushing as he realized that the question must have been meant as a distraction, though how Wen Ruohan had realized that a distraction would be the best way to reduce his distress when even he hadn’t known, he had no idea.

“Thank you for your consideration,” he mumbled, ducking his head in embarrassment.

Wen Ruohan started laughing.

“Truly I have found an unappreciated treasure, unlike any other,” he said amid his chuckles. “Come along, little Lan. Let’s go break the news to your brother.”

#mdzs #lan qiren #wen ruohan #my fic #my fics #spilled pearls

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dracosaurusrex · 4 years ago

Text

Fireworks. (Draco x Reader)

Summary: In which Draco turns to his best friend, Y/N, for help with his first kiss.

Genre: Fluff; Childhood friends-to-lovers

Wordcount: 1.5k

A/N: I wrote this as soon as I finished my assignments. It’s not perfect, it was rushed, but the temptation was real and there’s most likely going to be a second part. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy it for what it’s worth XD

Coming into Hogwarts for the first three years was defined by many things: An introduction to different magical subjects, the development of house pride, as well the strong encouragement to focus on passing exams and working hard to get good marks. However, wizarding children are not exempt from the rites of passage that were associated with their teenage years. That’s right. They were not exempt from the natural pull of attraction between two individuals, the resultant blooming crushes, which from there can go many different ways. Fourth year was exceptionally characteristic of that.

While you couldn’t be bothered--you were very much occupied with your studies--a certain Slytherin prince was.

“I can’t believe this, Y/N! It’s absolutely ridiculous!” The blonde boy furiously proclaims as he steps into your room. The sudden slam of the door jolts your senses as the focus you had on your homework immediately disintegrates. You pinch the bridge of your nose and close your eyes, refraining from letting out a string of foul words.

“What is it now, Draco?” You ask with a hint of annoyance. Your best friend of eleven years flops onto your bed. His arms and legs spread into a starfish shape, while a disturbed expression covers his face. You turn yourself in your chair to face him with an expectant gaze.

“Theodore and Blaise got their first kiss already,” He reveals. You pause for a moment to allow your brain to process what he said. However, a snicker leaves your lips, creating a juxtaposition to his deepening frown.

“You think that’s funny do you? Don’t you see my issue?” You felt bad. He was so obviously conflicted.

“No, I’m afraid I do not.” He rolls his eyes.

“Don’t you think you’re being a little too...I don’t know...dramatic?” You lifted your hand over your mouth to cover the smile that was threatening to come out.

“Dramatic? Y/N, word spread saying that even Potter got his first. Potter for Merlin sake! Out of all people!”

“Draco, I know for a fact that that isn’t true. Besides, why does that even matter to you? You never seemed to have a problem with it before.”

“I don’t want to be a lip virgin anymore!” You really didn’t want to laugh. As his best friend, you truly wanted to provide comfort, but his responses have been making it really difficult to do so. The sound of your laugh prompted a groan of frustration from the boy.

“Draco, you’re precious, and I love you so.”

“Yea, well, I can’t say I feel the same way about you right now.” He wriggled in your grasp as you squeezed his arm.

“Oh come on. I meant no harm, you know that.” Silence overcame you both, allowing you to calm down and settle into the seriousness of his matter.

“Okay, well why don’t we try to make it happen?” His eyebrow quirked at you while you got lost in thought, thinking of a possible plan.

“Do you like anybody?” You finally inquire.

“No.” The firmness in his tone makes you palm your face. The scenario that you’ve come up with shatters into a million pieces in your mind

“Draco, how are we supposed to set this up if you don’t have someone you like?” He shrugged.

“Why does that matter? Can’t I just kiss a random girl I’m attracted to?” You smack his arm.

“Your mother didn’t raise you that way, git.”

“Well I don’t see you kissing anybody! How would you do it?”

“Unlike you, I’m not desperate! Plus, I overhear the girls say that they want their first to be special. It’s supposed to feel like fireworks.” The boy slumps his shoulders, feeling discouraged over your statement. More silence ensues as you take a seat beside him, but his mind is anything but quiet. As your words resound in his thoughts, an idea begins to emerge.

“Hey, Y/N. You say that girls want it to be special, right?” He spoke with a softened tone, which contrasted greatly to the frantic one from earlier on. You nod in response.

“Don’t you think it would be pretty unspecial if the other person sucked at kissing?”

“I suppose so. I think whether it sucks or not depends on how much either party is attracted to each other.”

“I want to be good at it.” His straightforwardness makes you choke on your saliva. In turn, he rolls his eyes and pats your back.

“I’m sorry to break it to you, but I highly doubt that anyone is considered ‘good’ for their first kiss.”

“What if I practiced?” You were about to refute his suggestion until realization began to settle in.

“Draco Malfoy, what is going through that idiotic mind of yours?” Suddenly his eyes, which were once glazed with frustration, look into yours with earnest. You knew exactly what he was thinking.

“No, Draco.”

“Come on, Y/N! We’re best friends, and you did say that a first kiss is supposed to feel like fireworks. I bet we won’t even feel fireworks since we’d only be practicing, so surely that doesn’t count as our first kiss, right?” As much as you wanted to refute, the boy had cunningly twisted your words, leaving you at a loss. He was right, though. The both of you had grown up together, and you were so comfortable with one another that something as simple as a kiss shouldn’t be able to destroy you. Right? Additionally, if fireworks was the actual requirement for a proper first kiss, then any ones that occur before that shouldn’t count. How bad could it be really?

You bit your lip for a moment while Draco looked at you expectantly. When you glanced up to meet his familiar silver eyes, you felt your heart thump. This doesn’t mean anything, so it won’t count. You thought.

“Fine.” Relief filled his features as he scooted closer to you. You could feel your heart rate increasing exponentially when his breath softly brushes against your skin. It’s clear to you that in the spur of the moment, there wasn’t much going on in his head except for the fact that this was merely a practice run.

“How do we do this?” The temptation to smack his face was so strong, but you held yourself back. You sighed instead.

“I think I remember them saying that they like it when you do this.” With your voice soft, you grab his hands and plant them on your cheeks.

“Like this?” He asks. You release a small, ‘mhm’ as you let go of your hold. His grip induces your head to tilt upward, however you do your best to look at anything and everything except his eyes.

“What next?”

“Next, you lean in closer.” The boy stiffly lowers his head, and the warmth of his breath is more apparent now.

“You got to lean in much closer than that, Malfoy.” The sight of your lips reduces him into mush, making him realize that this moment meant more to him than what he had initially planned. Nevertheless, he attempts to close the distance even more.

“Can you, uh, close your eyes?” You take heed to his request. When he ensures that they were shut, he proceeds to lower himself to the point that his lips were practically a hair’s width away from yours. The suspense has your pulse beating against your ears. Nothing in your entire life had prepared you for that very moment.

Suddenly, the fireworks that you didn’t expect to feel erupted within your chest the instant that his lips are on yours. He moves slowly, motions are a bit clumsy, but the feeling remains all the same. It was when you recall that the boy kissing you was indeed your best friend that you knew something was about to change. With your eyes closed, and his hands still on your cheeks, you engrained the feel of his lips in your mind, oblivious to the fact that he was doing the same. It was way better than you had expected it to be--than how you wanted it to be--and you weren’t sure it was because it’s your first time also or if it was because it was him who you were sharing the moment with. Whatever it was, the need for more only increased when he parted from you.

You look into his eyes. They convey an expression that you can’t discern.

“Oh shit.” The words mindlessly spill from your mouth, but Draco’s gaze remains the same. Your face was so warm, you were certain that he had felt too.

“I think,” He starts. His eyes trail from your y/e/c orbs to your lips, “I need more practice.”

The boy starts leaning in once more. This time, he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and caresses your neck before placing a long, yet single kiss on you. Silence fills you both when you separate. The hand that was rested on your neck is placed on his lap, while yours remain on your sides.

“Was it good?” He asks. You bit your lip, thinking about what effect your next response will have on your friendship.

“I think we need more practice.”

Part 2

A/N: Hi! Thanks for reading! I want to try my best to milk out any ideas despite my tight schedule. Writing is an escape, and creates balance in my life. With that being said, I hope you liked it. Feedback is very much appreciated!

Tagging:

@beiahadid @hahee154hq @mushi98 @stretchyice @dracosathenaeum @dreaming-about-fanfictions @saby06143 @rottenhexrt @littlethie @amithatemo

If you’d like to be tagged, there’s link to a form on my masterlist :3

#Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco x reader #draco x y/n #draco x you #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy imagines

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satoruvt · 4 years ago

Text

for a moment i forget to worry

pairing → xu minghao x reader

word count → 3196

genre → fluff + angst, college au ↳ tags: strangers to friends to lovers </3, college kinda sux, ROOMMATE CHAN MAKES AN APPEARANCE OR TWO, dance major minghao, reader is completely lost but its ok who isnt, lots of cute couple stuff, pov ur entire relationship with minghao. thats it, a sad break up scene, a solid amount of crying

summary → there’s something about minghao. maybe it’s the way he dances, vibrant and youthful, or maybe it’s the way he loves you. based off of hunger by florence + the machine.

warnings → i hint at sex but its pretty vague, i also mention a breakdown type deal (revolving around school/life after school)

a/n → first of all this was NOT supposed to be 3k words i dont know how it happened. second of all i’m only kind of happy with this HAHA i feel like the story itself isnt bad but i wanted it to match the song more ... idk :/ i hope u guys like it regardless !!!

pieces of you masterlist

The first time you see him is by accident.

Really - all you’re doing is trying to find Chan. You’re passing by the practice rooms, looking into them in hope he’ll be there, stopping to gaze at decorations and medals and trophies lined up on the walls. It’s when you approach a room that music plays from that you think you’ve found Chan, but when you gaze in, it’s definitely not him.

You don’t know who it is, but he moves like nothing you’ve ever seen before.

It’s hypnotizing, almost makes you want to drop your things and dance with him. There’s a sense of youth that comes from him and it’s almost overwhelming - but it’s not in energy, necessarily, but rather from the precision of his movements, the technicalities that he seems to both follow and break at the same time. Something vibrant seeps out between the seams of his body, colors you can barely recognize as they splash against anything they can reach. It’s almost tangible.

You watch him long enough for him to finish his performance (an unknowing one) with the last notes of a song you forgot was even playing. His eyes meet with yours, slow as he completes an eloquent turn, and at the same time, a hand meets your shoulder.

A small wave of embarrassment washes over you, and you turn towards whoever touched you, effectively breaking eye contact. “What are you doing here?” Chan asks, hair still wet from what you assume was a shower.

“Looking for you,” you tell him, following as he starts to walk towards the exit. “I wanted lunch, and you owe me for that time I took your British literature quiz for you.”

Chan groans but agrees to pay, and you laugh, though the world seems a little paler than it did a few moments ago.

The second time you see him is by chance.

(Maybe.)

You’re waiting for a lecture to start, tapping your fingers against your laptop idly as you watch students trickle in last minute. It’s not a strict course, but it does start at nine in the morning, and most everyone shows up with a coffee.

You look down to brush a stray hair off of your table, and when you look up again, the dancer from before walks through the door, then looks right at you.

You feel a blush heat your face and it’s like he wants to make sure that you know that he knows, because he almost refuses to look away. You break eye contact first (like the last time, you remember for no reason) but still watch as his figure moves up the stairs, past the rows, and you hope he’ll just move past you too…

He doesn’t. He takes the empty seat right next to yours, and you don’t say anything, instead finding the peeling sticker on your laptop incredibly interesting. The professor comes in and decides that today he’ll take extra long to set everything up, apparently, and you want to scream.

“So,” the dancer says, voice quiet. It takes your breath away, the way he sounds. “Mind if I ask why you were watching me the other day?”

You cast a glance at him - not too long, you don’t think you could handle more than five seconds tops - and finally open your laptop so it makes you look busy. “I was waiting for a friend.”

“And?”

The smile in his voice is palpable. You’re already exasperated.

“You…” you start, finally deciding to look at him as some sort of subconscious power move. “You’re a beautiful dancer. It was hard not to watch.”

Beautiful doesn’t even cover half of it, but you figure he already thinks you’re weird for watching him, so you hold back the thoughts of youth and vibrancy and color. The dancer looks at you, almost blank for a moment, before a soft smile draws itself on his face. It makes your heart beat a little faster. He says “thank you” with a gentle tone, sincerely felt.

The class starts, and the two of you don’t speak throughout the next hour and a half. You type out notes on your laptop and you see him write down names of the paintings being shown on the projector, little thoughts and notes written afterwards.

By the end of class, your professor assigns an optional partnered project, and you’re more than prepared to head back to your apartment and start on it yourself. The dancer stops you before you leave, however, asks if you’d like to be his partner.

(And he says it like that, would you like to be my partner, polite and somehow sweet.)

You know your answer. “I don’t even know your name,” you stall, standing from your chair.

“Minghao,” he tells you. “I’m Minghao, and I’d like for you to be my partner.”

You say yes easily, put your number into his contacts even easier. The sky is blue when you leave the lecture hall, trees dotted with pink and purple flowers, and it is all so bright that you forget it wasn’t this way in the first place.

The third time you see him is for school.

Underneath the excitement of giving Minghao your number, there is the knowledge that it’s for the sake of an assignment. He texts you the day after to ask if you’re free to meet up to work and you tell him sure.

(Sure is what you send back, but he doesn’t have to know that you burst into Chan’s room immediately after, plunging face first into his bed just to scream into his pillows. Chan had sighed, turned around in his desk chair to look at you, then asked what happened. He gave you two minutes to rant and then kicked you out, back to your own room.)

You and Minghao agreed to meet at the library on a day that neither of you had any afternoon classes, and you get there early, spend some time working on other classes. You have somewhere around thirty minutes to freak out to yourself before you see Minghao come in, dressed like he knows what he’s doing to you (which is really just a hoodie and jeans, but you think it’s the cap that really pulls the whole boyfriend look together), smiling when he finds you at a table in the corner.

“How are you?” is the first thing he says when he sits down, and you pull down your laptop screen a little to see him better.

“I’m good,” you say, feeling your heart pound. “What about you?”

Minghao sends you a kind smile. “Really good. Should we get started?”

You lose count of how many times you see him after that.

Meeting up to work on the project soon becomes just meeting up, and after the project’s done and turned in, it happens even more. You hang out and get lunch, send each other texts and stupid videos, take walks around campus together. The weeks pass, summer mellows into fall, then into the early days of winter. You develop a genuine friendship with him, finding comfort in his presence, looking for him wherever you go.

(Although the crush is still there, potent and patient, stubborn in a way you’ve never experienced before. You wonder if it’s a sign of some sort.)

You’re in one of the practice rooms with him, sitting in the corner. You had a class nearby and he’d wanted to practice a little more, so you told him you’d work on your own stuff while he finished up and then the two of you could grab something to eat.

But you made a small error on your part - the dancing. You’d forgotten the way he moves (you haven’t seen him dance since that first time) and in no time at all you’re letting your screen go dark in front of you and watching him. Honestly, it’s not your fault, you really can’t help it.

But of course he notices.

Minghao meets your eyes through the mirror and raises his eyebrows at you, and all you can do is look away, desperately try to get your laptop up and running again so at least it seems like you weren’t watching him for too long.

“You’re staring,” he says, long after you’ve looked away.

“Sorry,” you tell him anyways, immediate, quick.

Then he says, “I never said anything about stopping.”

In a second, you look up from your laptop and up at him. He moves closer, crouches in front of you. His eyes are kind - they’re never not - but you think you see something a little more in them. “Sorry, I think I missed that last part,” you respond, blinking. Minghao smiles like you’re endearing.

“I said I want you to keep looking at me.”

You think you’re barely breathing when he shuts your laptop for you, slides it off of your lap and onto the floor (gently, with care, and it’s a wonder to you how he can focus on that right now). He practically crawls over you, one of his hands eventually reaching the junction of your jaw and neck and holding there. “I’m gonna kiss you now, if that’s okay,” he says, but doesn’t move. You nod as soon as his words reach your brain, eager and quick.

And the next few hours get a little wound up in your head, a little mixed in with the feeling of his body - that moves so youthfully, with so much vibrancy that it reaches everything around you - melting into yours and the sound of him asking you to tell me what you need, honey, and the still-playing slow jam music he was practicing to.

You watch him sleep next to you, hand curled around yours against his pillows, and think that nothing bad could ever touch him.

The two of you… come together, after that.

Neither you nor Minghao use any proper labels, but you both seem to know. No labels are needed, really. You have each other and that’s all there is to it. And everything is really good.

You work together and laugh together like you’ve always known each other. He tries to teach you to dance with him when you’re in the practice room with him, pulls you up by your hands and guides you through your giggles. He was the first person you called when you realized that you had no idea what you were working towards, didn’t have a clue what you actually wanted to do with your life. He gets along well with your friends and you text his because they’re basically yours, now, too.

Winter turns back into spring, slow and easy. Vibrant and youthful. You’re not able to meet Minghao’s parents, but he meets yours (and you’re sure a quick introduction to his mom over a FaceTime call has to count for something). The two of you take advantage of the newfound warmth of the season and try to get out as much as you’re able to, with picnics and city dates and anything you can think of. A drawer in his dresser is reserved for your things, you bought an extra toothbrush for him to use when he stays over.

You watch him dance. It still feels like the first time, like color and breathlessness. You tell him he’s beautiful every time, feel yourself fall a little deeper when he still gets bashful amidst his comedown. You tell him you love him for the first time after he gets done with a performance - a proper one, for a showcase of the dance club he’s in. He says it back.

You think he put all the stars in the sky just for the two of you to gaze at them together.

Things shift the beginning of your junior year.

Minghao tells you about a program he’s applying to, a proper dance academy in New York that could really kickstart his career. Training under some of the best choreographers and performers in the world.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask him after he tells you, and he shrugs, leaning back in his chair. You’re studying at his apartment tonight.

“It’s just…” he frowns. “It’s so far away, you know?”

Oh. You hadn’t even thought about that, too caught up in the excitement of him being able to apply at all. A quick sigh leaves your lips, and then you reach for his hand, hold it between both of your own.

“That’s okay,” you tell him, though now that you’re thinking about it, you feel nervousness in the pit of your stomach. “We can work something out, though, when we get that far. We’ll figure it out.”

Minghao nods, a fond look in his eyes. He pulls one of your hands to his lips. “We’ll think about it if I even get accepted,” he says.

It’s bittersweet, but a promise nonetheless.

Fifteen minutes after you get a call from Minghao, there’s a knock on your door.

You wouldn’t necessarily say you’re worried, but, well. Everyone’s experienced the jump of anxiety when they get hit with the “I want to talk to you about something” line. Nonetheless, you stand from the couch to open the door, mentally preparing yourself for any and everything.

“Hey,” you greet when you see Minghao, opening the door to let him in. His face is unreadable. “Everything okay?”

He walks a few steps into your apartment, waits for you to close the door before turning back around to face you. Then he holds up a piece of paper, the creases from where it was folded still bending. You send him a confused look.

“I got in,” he says, a grin breaking on his face, and you blink, then feel your jaw practically hit the floor. Minghao only nods like he understands, and before you know what you’re doing, you launch yourself at him, holding him close.

“Oh my god, Hao, that’s amazing,” you say into his sweater, then step back to get a proper look at him. Youthful, vibrant. “I’m so proud of you.”

He seems to soften at your words, pulls you back into him again with a gentle kiss to your head. “Thank you for believing in me,” he tells you, tenderness palpable in his voice. All you can do is squeeze him tighter.

Minghao spends a lot of time away from you after that.

You’re not really hurt in any way - even though he got into the academy in New York, he still has to practice. You get it, this is important. He doesn’t text you as often, isn’t able to stop by as much, and you miss him, but you know how much this means for him. But it gets… weird, almost, after a while. Strange, even for him. It feels weird that he’s set to leave at the end of January and it’s December and he’s distant.

Both of you are laying in your bed, looking at the glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling, when you decide to bring it up. “You’ve been… kinda far away lately,” you start, nudging him with your shoulder gently. “Everything okay?”

His eyes stay on your ceiling, but you feel the way he sighs. “It’s about the program,” he says.

“Okay.”

“And about… you and me.”

Oh. That doesn’t… sound the best. “About, like… what we’re gonna do?”

Minghao nods.

You say, “I wouldn’t mind visiting every so often. It’d be hard, but I’m sure we could find something to work.”

Minghao shakes his head, says, “no.”

You pause, and when you look at him he’s already looking at you. What does he mean by no? Does he want you to move with him? Or does he -

He reaches for your hand and you think oh.

His eyes are a little glassy. You feel the tears come, too.

“Oh,” you say out loud. Minghao squeezes your hand. “So this is… this is it?”

Your room is suddenly cold, and you want to crawl under the covers and stay there. The person in front of you is blurred into something unrecognizable, but you can’t be bothered to blink away your tears.

“I think so, love,” he whispers back to you. “I think it has to be.”

The two of you cry like that for a while. In your bed, loosely intertwined and broken. Even the way Minghao cries carries a kind of vibrancy that’s overwhelming, makes you think of the first time you saw him so long ago, and now -

When you manage to get a better grip on yourself, you ask him if you can still see him off at the airport. He says, “I don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t.”

Then you ask if you can kiss him again. He responds by kissing you first.

And it’s sad, it tastes like salt and sorrow and you feel like the promises you never got the chance to make are broken. It feels like the most beautiful blue you’ve ever seen, and you know it’s only a branch of Minghao’s color.

He leaves soon after that, pulls on his shoes and his coat and turns around at the door to give you a tired smile. After he’s gone, you drag yourself to Chan’s bedroom, and once he sees the state you’re in, he offers up one side of his bed. Neither of you say anything, but the friendly reassurance of his hand in yours says enough.

You don’t fail to notice that everything seems to be washed out, a blandness you’re not used to.

The last time you see him is at the airport.

It’s a cold day, despite being sunny. The airport offers little warmth, but you figure it doesn’t matter. You won’t be here for long.

It doesn’t take you very long to find Minghao - you still look for him wherever you go, even if you’re not looking for him. Even then, it’s still so easy for you to find him, to pinpoint that vibrancy, that youth. He’s talking to a few others, you think you met them. Soonyoung and Jun.

Minghao meets your eyes and you freeze, but then he waves you over with a gentle smile. You follow like you think you always will.

You greet Soonyoung and Jun and the four of you talk, albeit a little awkwardly, even when Soonyoung tries his hardest to lighten the mood. Eventually he has to leave, and Jun follows with a shy goodbye. They both hug Minghao before they go.

You’re not sure what to say, but after a minute, you find words. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you,” you tell him, a little selfishly.

Minghao says, “you’ll do good. I know you will. I’m not worried about you.”

He pulls his phone out of his pocket to check the time, and you think he’ll give you a stiff and sad goodbye, but he steps a little closer to you. Looks at you the way he used to.

“Maybe…” he starts, then pauses. “Maybe we’ll meet again.”

Maybe, you think. Maybe.

“I hope so,” you tell him, then watch as he leaves.

#caratwritersclub #kdiner #kpopscape #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #svt imagine #seventeen imagine #the8 x reader #the8 imagine #svt the8 x reader #seventeen the8 x reader #svt the8 imagine #xu minghao x reader #xu minghao imagine #svt minghao x reader #seventeen minghao x reader #minghao x reader #minghao imagine #pieces of you

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cherrynojutsu · 3 years ago

Text

Title: Like Gold

Summary: Sasuke grapples with love and intimacy regarding his developing relationship with Sakura after returning to the village from his journey of redemption. Kind of a character study on Sasuke handling an intimate relationship after dealing with PTSD and survivor’s guilt in solitude for so long. Blank period, canon-compliant, Sasuke-centric, lots of fluff and pining, slowly becomes a smut fest with feelings.

Disclaimer: I did not write Naruto. This is a fan-made piece solely created for entertainment purposes.

Rating: M (eventual nsfw-ness)

AO3 Link - FF.net Link - includes ending author's notes

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Chapter 8/?: Grasping

Sasuke awakens abruptly, nausea clawing its way out of his throat like a soup of sepsis that’s been left percolating on a stovetop for too long, finally boiling over and soiling everything.

Stomach churning, he tries to aim it at the floor - he’s gotten better at doing that, over the years - but he doesn’t quite succeed. Hot bile, acidic with mostly digested dinner, coats the side of his bedding and part of his sleeve.

He coughs, gagging on acid and torment and hyperventilation. Then his stomach lurches again, and he turns to retch another round at the floor. Part of it floods his nostrils, stinging, and he rasps more.

That triggers another round, after which he waits a minute, sharp coughs punctuating the stillness, familiar at this point with what his stomach’s settling feels like. He shrugs off his shirt once it does, and makes his way to the kitchen, hacking on a foul aftertaste and vomit-inducing visuals flashing before his eyes.

A glance at the clock tells him it’s half past midnight as he gulps water, snorting in a manner very undignified to clear out his nasal passages and soothe the putrid taste overwhelming his insides. Then he chokes more of it down, feeling the beginnings of a pounding headache.

There are times when having a near photographic memory is not a good thing. He is very tired of recalling crackling electricity, of stumbling over body after body with lifeless eyes. Men, women, children, all with charcoal irises like his.

And teammates, with irises decidedly not like his, luster flattened to single dull colors.

And himself, at the end, deranged and dispiteous, standing where Itachi had stood a long time ago, looming over remains as if he himself is the final obstacle to defeat before it just ends, the culminating villain in some fucked up fable. All at once, he’s a child again, gagging on a demented form of truth, left to stew there for years and years and years, rotting him from the inside out.

He's noxious. He knows he is. He wishes he could spit himself out along with partially digested yakitori.

Sasuke takes another sip of water as his vision blurs, trying desperately to focus on the wood grain of the cabinets and not daring to close his eyes, lest another flash snake its way into his ocularity and undo the mild soothing the water is providing. He coughs again, throat raw. Then his mouth starts watering, a telltale sign that he’s going to throw up again, so he walks carefully to the bathroom, bottle in hand and trying not to jostle his stomach more than is necessary. Switching on the light and flipping up the seat of the toilet, he makes it just in time.

This round it’s mostly just water, and it burns a little less. The murky brown color he’s faced with seems very reflective of what he feels inside, ignominy and wretchedness and self-loathing, no substance at all, just a bitter aftertaste of that which was left behind on a wood floor a lifetime ago. There had been saliva then, too, seeping from his mouth to the floor in his cowardice.

He swallows once, a gargantuan effort. Then he takes another sip of water, studying the text on the label to try to distract himself, vile and unsettled as he is.

He doesn’t deserve Sakura, not after what he’s done. When his vision starts to blur again, he can’t read anymore anyway, so he looks at the mangled mess left of his left arm instead.

He deserves that, a maiming to fit the crime. He wishes he were a better man.

Slowly so as not to further disturb his stomach, he lies down sideways, pressing his cheek to the coolness of the floor. He feels disconnected from everything, at a loss for proper coherent thought, a mess of misery sprawled on a tile too clean for his own rancidness.

Nothing matters for a long time. He just stares into nothingness, a mild burning in his throat and eyes on a void of pure white that he doesn’t belong in, thinking about how it matches the skin tone of bodies that have been drained of all their color. It’s like he’s barely there, nothing seeming real except the hollow feeling in his chest and the buzzing sensation tempering the edge of his consciousness, like his brain has been stuffed with cotton but parts of it are burning away to nothing. Everything of substance singes away in a controlled burn, destined to always have gaping holes of meaning scorched away at random wherever the fire takes hold.

He doesn't know if there ever even was anything in the first place, deep down. Maybe corrosion is a terrible metaphor, because what's left, at the end of it? Layers and layers of useless shale and sandstone and limestone, packed atop Precambrian filth that’s been decaying there for what feels like centuries. Or magma, set to burn anything he touches.

Or electrocute it.

XXX

Suddenly it’s hours later, and a bird is chirping outside, twitters resounding through a metaphysical tunnel of distortion. Gradually it shifts into an audio that doesn’t sound quite as echoed, accentuated by light filtering in through the miniscule bathroom window.

This happens, sometimes, the nightmares and the absconding into abeyance where his brain seems to shut off, a resulting loss of significant chunks of time. Not sleeping, just staring at something dully for a while, stuck on the same cycle of repeating thought. The memorial stone is a trigger for it, he thinks. It’s why he dreaded going there, upon his return, although it's complicated. Occasionally, visiting it seems to bring feelings that are almost positive, where it feels like he’s reaching out to reclaim tiny shattered shards of what used to be his heart. Mostly, though, it’s just mourning. The reading of names may be what compels the worst of them; sometimes he thinks if he looks too long, he’ll learn things he doesn’t want to know.

Exhausted, he drags himself to his feet and begins wryly picking up the pieces, chest hurting from heaving. He throws his bedding and his shirt haphazardly into the washing machine, drowning them in soap before he grabs cleaner to do the same to his floors.

It smells disgusting, like it’s been petrifying in his stomach for years. He supposes that makes sense; a lot of things have.

Once the surface is clean, he gets in the shower, not caring that all of the hot water is being used for the laundry; the icy cold helps wake him up. He’s fatigued, lethargic, but he knows better than to try to go back to sleep at this point.

As he fights shivers in the towel afterwards, he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He looks awful. Pale and sickly, repulsive, purple sallow staining his skin the same color as the Rinnegan. His normal eye is bloodshot, vacant charcoal that pollutes everything it touches. He lets the black of his hair shift over his Rinnegan eye in a manner he's well accustomed to by now.

His remaining eye inches to the corner of the mirror, the front of the medicine cabinet.

He carefully procures a cough drop, and then makes sencha tea, hoping the caffeine will dull his headache. There’s a part of him that still feels like he’s hardly there, like he’s a ghost just going through the motions. When he takes a sip, it feels good on the throat, but the vomiting earlier has partially singed away the surface of his tongue; he hardly tastes it.

Sasuke then takes the photo from when they were Genin to the living room, grasping onto it for dear life in more ways than one. He alternates between studying it and gazing out the glass, to the cherry blossom tree across the street.

An hour passes, slowly, sitting there thinking about what he does and doesn’t deserve, a mess of thoughts swirling down the drain of his mind. Then another. The luminescence of the day begins trickling in more, green buds across the street gaining back their pigment.

He’s not sure if he should even go to Sakura’s still, because he feels like he’s going to make even worse company today than he usually does, as tired as he is. But he’s weak, and he selfishly wants her; there’s an equanimity only she can provide, the swingback of a pendulum briefly through a sense of normalcy, and he needs the chance to look into jade eyes, to see the light hit them, to ascertain that the chatoyancy has not been dulled. And she’s not dead, despite his inner psyche screaming at him that she would be, had Naruto or Kakashi arrived just a second later. He needs to thank them for that, when he gets the chance, though the timing has never felt right to bring it up.

And he loves her. He's not sure if his love is worth anything, contemptible as he is, but it’s the main reason he can make sense out of the absolute mess that is his inner thought process this morning. So he goes.

XXX

It helps. He’s enormously exhausted, and the light of day hurts his eyes, even once he’s inside and is only absorbing its rays from the diamond window, but it helps.

“Sasuke-kun,” she greets in a voice like honey as she opens her door to him, dimple on open display. She really is so lovely, multi-faceted jade sparking with life that nearly instantly calms some of his anxiety.

He is briefly concerned about what he looks like to her, today. He checked prior to coming over here, brushing his teeth thrice in the hopes that his breath wouldn’t be bad, that he could drench his innards in enough clarifying mint to be even remotely deserving of a small amount of her affection. His eye was a little less bloodshot at that point, but overall he still looked like hell, sickly and pallid.

“Sakura,” he murmurs in response, voice hoarse from being put through a ringer of his own making.

There is a prolonged moment in which she examines him, wearing an analytical expression that reminds him of clinician Sakura. Then the spell is broken, as if she’s forcibly turned that part of herself off, and she’s stepping aside and telling him softly, “Come in! I made onigirazu.��

He steps inside her entryway, setting his book on the console table momentarily beside where Hazel Wood lies, ready to be returned. He then shifts out of her way so he can remove his shoes. He’s not particularly hungry, but he’s glad it’s something fairly simple and heavy on the rice; he should be able to eat it fine.

He follows her inside, appreciating the subdued luminosity of her lamps along the way. The blankets are already laid out on the couch, a promise of simple warmth and companionship that he is very much looking forward to.

As his eye adjusts and he enters the kitchen, ready to grab a plate, his gaze locks on remnants of sliced tomatoes atop a cutting board he recognizes, though it’s familiar to him from his own apartment, not hers.

It’s exactly the same design as the one Naruto gifted him.

A fire roars to life in his ribcage as he freezes for a split second, an exhausted icy hot appreciation. It’s an implication that means the world to him, and particularly well timed.

She wants him around, to help prepare future meals.

“I put some sliced tomatoes in yours. I hope it’s okay,” Sakura says as she hands him a plate, not addressing the elephant in the room at all, as if she just needed a new cutting board and happened to pick up that one, though he knows that cannot possibly be the case; he'd seen at least two in her cupboard, before. “Would you like tea, or maybe some water?”

He nods stiffly, vision a bit blurry, then comprehends the second question.

“Water is fine,” he manages thickly.

They sit in front of her window, supple sunshine streaming in. It’s not too bright here, angled just right.

“...How was your morning?” He asks after taking a sip of water, voice still gravelly. He is beyond content to be sitting here, just looking at her, so much better than a picture.

“Good. Ino and I walk or jog in the early morning on Sundays, if it's nice. Hinata comes sometimes; she did today.” She chews a bite of her rice sandwich.

Sasuke blinks; she hasn’t mentioned that yet. Another chunk of her schedule falls into place. “...Where?”

A half smile blooms on her lips, dimple pushed into being. “Sometimes we run laps around the village, but usually there's no real destination; we just walk and visit.” She takes a sip of her own water. “It’s nice when Hinata comes; it tones Ino down a notch.”

He would snort, if he was in a different sort of mood.

“We went to the southeast part of town today,” she continues. “Ino wanted to see a new building they put up. Her mom has a big order of flowers to deliver there later this week.”

Flowers. In the chaos of the night he’s had, lily bulbs fell to the wayside of his mind.

Sasuke carefully takes the first bite of his own food. It’s good, as he expected; a mixture of salmon, tomato, and salted rice, simple enough to hopefully help settle his stomach. He can kind of taste it.

He chews slowly, reverently, alternating between eating and taking small sips of water as she chatters animatedly. “The flower shop's orders are really taking off now. Ino’s usually busiest once May comes. Hopefully things stay peaceful, so she can stay in the village for the most part; her mom can always use the extra help.”

They wash and dry the dishes together, afterwards, a routine that is beginning to feel familiar. She still doesn’t say anything about the cutting board, but Sasuke greatly appreciates the way it feels in his hand when she gives it to him, weighty and with a designated home under her roof. It slides into place easily in the cupboard with the two others.

They read for a while on her couch again, wrapped in their respective blankets; Sakura keeps her apartment fairly cool. It’s cozy in a way that makes his head feel funny, like he could fall asleep in minutes if he really tried, lulled by the soothing scent of berry and cleanliness. He wonders if it would be restful, if he did. Usually once enough time ellipses, well into the next day, his brain cuts him some slack, though it could be that he's just too exhausted from being up most of the night for the neurons to fire up again to such a frenzy.

Sasuke finishes the last chapter of his book sluggishly and contemplates the ending, a lengthy description of the fisherman gripping the solid railings of the dock with both hands as he comes ashore for the first time in months.

When he flicks his gaze to Sakura tiredly, she’s a third of the way through a new book, titled Among the Ruins: Post-War Reflections. It appears to be a memoir; he assumes it must be one she’s purchased, as it doesn’t have the library label. Perhaps it’s new, picked up this morning while she was out, or it could be one from her bookshelves. He would like to peruse the titles she has, sometime. He drowsily wonders which war it’s about.

He takes a careful breath and just revels in it, being here with her, mere feet away with his eyes closed but able to sense her presence, worn out with thoughts that have edges as frayed as he is. He would like to stay for dinner, too. He thinks it’s perhaps becoming implied that they’ll eat together if she doesn’t have other plans, but he doesn’t want to be rude or overstay his welcome.

Sasuke hopes he can stay awake. Maybe he shouldn’t have said no to tea earlier; the additional caffeine might have helped. He could offer to make them both some, he thinks fuzzily, but then he starts wondering if that would be odd or overstepping. It’s her tea, and her kitchen, and her cups.

Then he sleepily remembers the cutting board.

“You can take a nap, you know,” Sakura murmurs kindly, soft words echoing a little in the stillness of her space. “If you’re tired. I don’t mind.”

He blinks his eyes open, vision adjusting as he realizes he nearly dozed off.

She’s smiling from the other end of the couch. “I can make dinner later, and wake you up when it’s ready. You should rest until then.” She pauses, then adds, “I can grab you a better pillow from my room, if you want.”

His brain catches up to his auditory processing, and then his ears warm.

Oh.

The offer is tempting, though he doesn’t want to be rude. If it were any other day, he would force himself to stay awake, to spend more time with her. But it’s not any other day, and he’s drained, enervated in a way that makes him want to give in. He should ask, to make sure it’s okay, but he’s pretty sure she wouldn’t offer if it wasn’t.

“...Here?”

A flush inks its way onto her cheeks as her expression turns thoughtful. “Yes. Or... you can use my bed, if you want.”

Sasuke forces his gaze away from hers, because his face feels extremely warm all of the sudden. “...I meant… here, at your apartment.”

“Oh.” Sakura laughs in a way that sounds nervous; he hears her fiddling with the book in her lap. “I, um… just meant whatever’s most comfortable.”

When he hesitantly looks back to her, she’s red, too.

“...What will you do?”

She gestures with her hand in a waving motion to indicate it's fine. “I can read, or do some laundry or work stuff. It’s no trouble. Really, Sasuke-kun.” Her blush deepens. "...I would like you to stay… And to have dinner later. If you’re free."

He swallows before slowly nodding his acquiesce, and then Sakura is up and heading to her bedroom in a blink of mismatched eyes. Muffled footsteps pad back moments later, a pillow with a lavender pillowcase clutched in her hands.

Her bedding must be a variant of violet, then, a pastel contrast to the black of his own. He is curious about the color of her bedroom walls all over again, but then she’s handing him the pillow, and he’s too tired to continue thinking.

“...Thank you.”

The smile she wears is so soft, treasured. “You’re welcome.”

He’s out within a few minutes of laying his head on the pillow, drowsing eyes barely catching the lamps flickering off one by one as she meanders around her space.

The pillow smells like her, too, cogent in its beckoning. He sleeps like a rock.

XXX

Sakura nudges him awake hours later, leaning forward to rest her upper body against the back of the couch. The scent of miso and roasted tomatoes drifts into his nostrils while lively jade peers down at him. The light coming from her window has dimmed quite a bit. It must be well into the evening; she let him sleep for a while.

“Dinner’s ready,” she murmurs softly, wearing an expression that is incredibly fond.

He stretches slightly as he rises from her sofa, working out a crick in his shoulder and thinking that he feels much more rested. Sasuke is about to head to her kitchen to get his own bowl, until Sakura turns towards the table, and he sees that she's already set out food for both of them, green market light switched on overhead.

There's onigiri, too, and a steaming cup of sencha placed on his side that he's sure is decaffeinated.

His side.

The realization, albeit a good one, disarms him.

He has a side of her table. And a side of her couch.

Sakura recites a story Hinata told her this morning as they eat, about how Naruto initially buried every single flower bulb in their garden beds six inches deep instead of reading the directions, so they had to dig everything up and salvage the instructions on the package from the trash to replant.

“He mixed them all together, too, instead of planting them in sections like a normal person.” She laughs, and his lips turn upwards in shared amusement. “She said she hopes they didn’t miss one. Iris and echinacea can sometimes multiply out of control. She was happy she didn’t add bee balm to the list, too, or they’d really be in trouble; those can grow anywhere, even in gravel.”

The soup and tea feel good on his throat, and the rice is filling in a way that would be difficult to throw up, absorbent of moisture and chunking together to expand in his stomach until he is full, in more ways than one.

He can taste again, the richness of tomato and miso and calming ubiquitous green on his tongue and in his heart, thoughts of flowers and their idiot teammate helping to cast aside his earlier melancholy.

Sasuke loves her so much in that moment that it physically aches, her voice a balm that puts the rawest parts of him at ease.

"Thank you," he says quietly at the conclusion of the meal, grateful in ways he's not sure he'll ever be able to put into words.

Her response is simple, gentle, pure. “You’re welcome.”

As they wash and dry the dishes together in the dim light of her kitchen, Sakura tells him softly, “I put leftovers in containers for you in the fridge. Please take them with you tonight.”

He nods as his eyes sting with appreciation. When he turns to put away the teacups, he blinks to clear them as she wipes down the sink one last time for the evening.

As she sorts through her movie selection afterwards - it’s her turn to pick - he asks, “How is the poison antidote coming?”

Sakura glances at him curiously for a second from where she’s perched on the wood floor, rifling through the lower cabinet. “I think we might have it solved. Blarina toxin from a southern short-tailed shrew, and then possibly lionfish toxin, laced with algal bloom cyanobacteria. The lionfish toxin is part of the trouble; it’s such a trace amount that it was hard to identify, not enough to cause swelling on the exterior body like you’d see if you were stung by one in person. We’re still running tests, but the neutralization seems to be working on the mice so far.” She blanches a little. “Or, rather, the mice we have left. It’s diminished our stocks; shrew venom is particularly deadly to them.”

Sasuke knew it was likely to kill several of them, but not quite to that extent. He’s interested in her work, so he asks, “How many?”

She turns back to sift through her cabinet as she answers, pulling out another movie to examine. “A gland-full of venom is potent enough to kill up to two hundred of them. It’s why it took us longer than usual; we had to give them the absolute tiniest dose in order to not kill them within hours. I guess it makes sense; they’re one of the things they eat in the wild. The dose in the poison sample was high, though, venom from multiple shrews. A single bite usually isn’t enough to do any harm to humans, but when it’s quadrupled in dosage and laced with other things, it’s more severe.”

“...What’s the treatment?”

Sakura rattles off the extremely complex answer as if it’s nothing. “An antihistamine, steroid, botulinum toxin, and an antibiotic. We’re also giving them blood transfusions and flushing out the blood as it comes to the exterior machine, to get rid of the cyanobacteria. Kind of like conventional water treatment… just more complicated. More steps, filtration, and obviously we can’t use chlorine, so it takes longer.”

Sasuke blinks somewhat in awe. She really is so intelligent.

“...That sounds lengthy.”

She shrugs, movie still in hand. “It is. It’s why we’re not one hundred percent sure if we’ve solved it yet; the lionfish venom is still the weak link, and will be until we can see that the other portions of the treatment have worked to isolate it.”

“...I’d like to learn the process.”

A smile plays at her lips and a flush inks its way onto her cheeks. He supposes it was a roundabout sort of compliment; he could have worded it better, but she seems to have understood him anyway. She does about a lot of things, he thinks.

“I can bring home a kit, sometime, and teach you the basics. It could be useful.”

He nods; he would like that.

There is a long pause as Sakura bites her lip before further examining the movie case in her hand.

Then, she asks, a tentative expression on her face and peeking at him to gauge his reaction, “Want to watch a bad one?”

Sasuke wonders if she knows he would watch any movie with her, if it means he gets to be in her company like this, saved from a room with white tiles or dark wood.

“...Sure.”

She wasn't exaggerating; it is truly terrible, riddled with plot holes so nonsensical that it’s almost funny. The acting is bad, too, though perhaps that’s more to blame on the script rather than the actors.

“Even the camera work is awful,” Sakura says at one point, gesturing towards the left side of the screen. “If you look in the background here, there’s an extra that just… walks into the wall.”

He watches, and sure enough, behind the main characters, a girl walks directly into a corner and just stands there.

He snorts, genuinely enthused in a manner he would not have thought possible hours ago. Sakura laughs at the other end of the couch. It’s a sound he could listen to forever, sweet and chiseled into his heart.

They play an extensive round of go afterwards, venturing well into the night with the plinking of small pieces into place. It’s nearly eleven when she finally walks him to her doorway, two containers of tomato miso soup and onigiri in her hands. As he pulls on his shoes, Sakura sets them by his library book on the console table.

“Would you want to read tomorrow afternoon?” She asks as he rises to his full height.

He nods. “...I’ll meet you here.”

Her dimple makes a reappearance. “One fifteen?”

He inclines his head again in agreement, then decides to ask. It’s becoming easier, now that she has said yes so many times.

“Dinner, after?”

Her smile widens. “Of course. I was thinking gyudon. Light on the sugar. You could…” She bites her lip and shifts a bit. “...You could help me cook, if you’d like.”

Something turns over in his belly. “...Okay.”

She glows at him. He swallows once before reaching out to skim her freckle, enjoying the feel of her cheek against the pad of his thumb.

And then her fingers against his fingers, holding him there against her cheek, soft and steady.

Then he leans down, and his lips are on hers, a breath exhaled in unison as her entryway falls away. Her free hand twists around his neck, delicately brushing the fabric and a fraction of his skin in a way that nearly makes him shiver. It’s a long moment of quietus, a finishing stroke to a day that could have gone very differently.

It is also the longest kiss they’ve shared yet, and it is over far too soon.

He’s pulling away to look at her, letting his hand drop away, when she wraps her arms tenderly around him.

He can hardly breathe, taken off guard by the absolute sensation of comfort he’s enveloped in.

She doesn’t say a thing; just hugs him tight, her fingertips spreading across his back and face pressed to his sternum. Berry invades his olfactory senses.

Slowly he lifts his arm to carefully return the hug, swallowing a tender sort of truth, a kind that goes down easy, the evidence and action of her affection. He can feel Sakura’s heartbeat against his chest, a tempo teeming with life.

They stand there together in her entryway for a long time.

XXX

He sleeps wrapped in a clean comforter, and though it’s not for very long, it is dreamless.

He’s eating leftover onigiri when he receives a mission summons, barely past seven in the morning. He finishes his meal and pops a cough drop in his mouth before departing for the Hokage’s office.

It’s a nice day, he thinks as he walks, coming to a decision as he admires vernal greenery lining the streets. The sun is just lifting over the horizon, painting everything pale amber.

“Sasuke,” Kakashi greets as he walks in; he’s the first one there again, apparently. “Good morning.”

“Kakashi.”

Their old sensei smiles at him in the strange all-seeing manner he has. Sasuke notes the presence of a new picture frame present on his desk, replacing the one he’s given him.

He is extremely grateful to have that picture to grip onto in his darker moments. Sasuke considers thanking him then, for Iron, but then Naruto is barreling in noisily.

“Whaizzit?” He yawns raucously, as if he just woke up, sleep still clinging to the corners of his eyes. They are multi-faceted, too, even in their barely aware state, and Sasuke inwardly breathes a sigh of relief, normalcy shifting fully back into place as the door clicks behind his teammate.

Then Naruto registers that Sasuke is present. “Eh? Teme?!” Cerulean scans the room as if he’s searching for something, then he frowns, directing a lengthy glare Kakashi’s way.

“If you've called me here at seven in the fucking morning for anything that isn’t a Team Seven reunion mission, I’m going to lose it.”

Ah. He was looking for Sakura.

“Afraid not,” Kakashi answers cryptically from his desk, and Naruto’s sleepy glare tightens. Then the Hokage smiles, as if something is incredibly amusing. "Guard duty. Kotetsu and Izumo deserve a break. Things are slow this week, and we have the extra numbers.”

The copy ninja skillfully dodges Naruto’s sandal as it flies towards him. “You’ve got to be kidding. You woke me up for this? You could have told me later in the day or something!!”

“Future Hokages don’t receive special treatment, and it’s professional to give more than twenty-four hours notice if possible.”

Naruto grumbles. "All week?"

Kakashi grins. "Tuesday through Friday."

Inwardly, Sasuke twitches.

"I should specify; nine to six, Tuesday through Friday."

Outwardly, Sasuke twitches.

It's not exactly her work schedule for all four days, but it lines up closely enough that it's fairly obvious what Kakashi’s doing.

Naruto barely reacts; just snorts in a way that is caustic, as if he finds the times unsurprising. "Cool. Can I go back to sleep until it’s time to kick teme’s ass now? Hinata-chan and I were cozy."

Sasuke rolls his eyes; when they spar in the mornings, it’s typically between eight and nine. He’ll have around an hour's extra sleep at best, though he supposes he’s not in any position to judge at this point, given his nap on Sakura’s couch yesterday.

Kakashi’s smile widens, mask wrinkling. "Sure. Dismissed."

They both watch on in faint amusement as Naruto stumbles sleepily out of his office, neglecting to collect his missing shoe.

“...Some things never change,” the Hokage murmurs, sighing.

“...No, they don’t.”

“Well, anyways, before you go…” Kakashi turns to him, tapping the pen at his desk absentmindedly. “How are things?”

Sasuke blinks, recalling leftovers and a new cutting board and the feeling of Sakura’s arms around him.

And kissing. Mostly kissing. Probably too much, if his neck’s sudden warmth is anything to go by.

“Good.”

A lone visible eye crinkles at the corners. “Great. Don’t hesitate to let any of us know if you need anything.”

He lets the words hang in the air for an extended few seconds before nodding slowly.

"I was thinking…” Kakashi continues, gaze flicking down to the photograph on his desk. “...Perhaps we could make Team Seven dinners a monthly thing. It would be good, don’t you think?"

“...Yeah.”

A dark eye locks on him again. "Sai could come, too."

Ah.

"...Sure." He really should make an effort to get to know him better. His replacement seems nice enough, peculiar as he is.

"Wonderful. Let's plan on the first Saturday of every month at six, shall we? If we're all in the village, that is. I’ll let him know when I call him in later this morning."

“Okay.”

A long moment passes, then Kakashi is procuring the shoe from the area behind his desk. Sasuke notes that he holds it as far away from him as his arm will allow.

“...I don’t suppose you’d return this, when you see him later?”

Sasuke says nothing.

“...Though I suppose I could assign it as a mission to some Genin.” Then he's sighing, setting it on the farthest edge of Naruto’s work area. “Too bad I just gave an assignment to my last two.”

Shooting him a withering look, Sasuke departs the Hokage’s Office. He gets the distinct feeling as he goes that Kakashi is incredibly pleased with himself, solidified by what he calls after him.

“Tell Sakura I say hi.”

Guard duty is easy in theory, but spending thirty six hours with the dobe may be… a challenge. He supposes if the reward is being able to see Sakura after she works most of those days, he'll take it. He's sure Kakashi won't keep him in the village forever; eventually duty will call him away for extended periods of time.

It solidifies his decision; he should take the opportunity of being here to plant something.

He stops by the market vendor on the northern end to buy two packages of lily bulbs on his way home. The market is fairly slow, so there are few other people around.

The packages feel good in his hand, lighter than he expected.

Sasuke works through a section of one of his other books before Naruto shows up on his doorstep, still appearing for all intents and purposes half asleep. Their spar ends in another draw; luckily there are no cracked bones this time.

He eats more leftovers for lunch after, appreciating the taste.

XXX

Sasuke feels at home in Sakura’s kitchen, cutting scallions easily while she broils beef and prepares the egg mixture for gyudon just a few steps away. The meal comes together quickly between the two of them, savory with a sauce that is heavier on the mirin and sake than the sugar.

Food they prepare together somehow tastes even better. It’s late when they finally sit down to eat dinner, gazing out through glass at the streets below as they take their first bites.

The sauce is perfect; not too sweet.

“...I have guard duty this week,” he mentions after a while.

“With who?” She asks, though her lips twitch upwards.

He rolls his eyes. “...Guess.”

She bites her lip, and he tears his gaze away from her mouth and up to her eyes. The green is filled with mirth, twinkling with illuminated flecks.

“Good luck,” she says sincerely. “What times?”

He glances away, ears warming and wondering if Kakashi has mentioned anything to her about them being… together.

“Tomorrow through Friday, nine to six.”

There is a long pause. When he peeks back at her, she’s blushing.

“...Kakashi-sensei is nosy.” Sakura takes another bite of her food, looking shy for some reason, and suddenly Sasuke is certain that their sensei has said something to her, perhaps on multiple occasions. He wonders what.

“...He is.” He thinks, then adds as an afterthought, “...He says hi.”

They do the dishes together and play two rounds of chess. Sakura wins once, and the second round is another stalemate, though he suspects he was close to beating her.

It’s close to nine by the time they’re putting the board away. As he works on packing up the last of the pieces to store in their allocated compartment, he notices she’s gazing out the window, scanning the sky as if distracted.

The way she’s angled puts the freckle on her cheek in plain view, pale hair loosely tucked behind her ear.

Then she turns to him, pink flooding her complexion, and Sasuke realizes he’s been staring, the remaining few pieces still clutched in his hand, frozen in midair in his distraction. He hastily finishes putting them away as his own face warms. Sakura rises from the table to put the box away, footsteps echoing softly through her living space.

He looks outside quizzically for a moment, embarrassedly trying to will the color away from his face and wondering what she was looking at. It’s a clear evening, calm without a cloud in sight.

"I was wondering if…"

His vision snaps to her expectantly across the room, and her cheeks flush darker; he can see it even though it’s dimly lit, shifting from one foot to the other. She seems nervous.

"If you would maybe want to… go stargazing for a bit tonight?"

His pulse quickens, pushing at the seams of chambers and ventricles in a way that makes it feel like the vines have twisted their way in, taking hold of whatever they can clutch.

She apparently does still like that sort of thing.

And she wants to go with him.

He nods immediately, struck speechless with elation before he manages to form the question, "...Where?"

Her expression is one of relief. "I was thinking just outside the village. There’s…” She looks away, smiles. “There’s a place Ino and I go to sometimes; we went today for a bit, after training. There are wild lilacs blooming right now.” She shifts her gaze to him again. “It's supposed to be a little cooler, but the sky’s clear. We could bring tea in a thermos; I have two."

Heat creeps up his neck as he agrees, heart stammering in his chest a little, because he’s started thinking about it now, and stargazing together is very clearly romantic in nature, amongst flowers even more so.

Sakura brews tea for the both of them as he distracts himself by slicing a lemon for hers. When he glances at her surreptitiously, she’s still blushing, and jade eyes snap away as if this time she’s the one that’s been caught staring. That makes his heart pound, to the extent that he’s glad she’s a few feet away, because it’s so loud that she might hear it.

They meander to the edge of the village as evenfall settles, into the forested area just beyond the gates. As Sasuke trails behind her, divagating through subtly flattened pathways between the trees, his thoughts wander to bygone seasons.

There once was a pond, three quarters of a mile outside of the village, beyond where the Uchiha District used to be. It wasn’t officially a part of their grounds, but it was remote enough that it wasn’t easily happened upon by anyone other than their family, off the beaten path and through thicket and thistle as it was.

Itachi used to take him fishing there.

He thinks they’d gone four or five times in all, but he remembers it well, because he had been terrible at fishing, not a shred of patience. His brother caught most of them, but he would sometimes set the hook before passing off the reel to Sasuke to help him learn. It was quiet, peaceful in the way that only the wilderness is, away from the pressures of expectations. Wildflowers poked up everywhere in the later summer months, situated on a hill towards the far side of the pond. They picked some together for their mother, once; Sasuke clutched them in his hands while they made the trek back to the village, Itachi carrying their bucket of perch and bass.

It was nice in the autumn, too, warm tones flooding everything. One could sit in the swaying overgrowth flush with falling leaves for hours taking it all in and still not see it all, an overwhelmingly pure sense of peace, made heartier by the taste of freshly grilled fish later in the evening.

The walk had seemed like it took forever back then, on short legs looking upward. He’s never returned to that place, not once, since he was eight. It would hurt too much, for different reasons now than when he was twelve.

He remembers passing wild lilacs then, too, on the way there and back. He supposes they probably thrive in the chaparral throughout Fire Country, if one cares to traipse through the foliage to look for them. He stumbled upon many on his journey, just passing through on roads less traveled.

The small clearing Sakura leads them to reminds him of the pond a little, wild and flush with fading hues, framed by fragrant lilacs in bloom as she said, but there are no memories tied to it yet, so it’s better. Huge bushes of them grow unaided here, wispy purple redolence scattered by the wind into the earth's cracks, ushered in by whispers through the trees.

The wilds are not so far from Konoha, really. Like the cherry blossom tree on the hill, it's a good reminder that some things can grow easily even on rougher terrain.

Sasuke sits rather close to her, so they can drink their tea together. The sun slips just below the horizon, a cloudless sky awash in a shifting gradient. He catches jade as he takes a drink, appreciating the taste, a small bit of warmth on a cool night.

The way she’s looking at him makes his heart rate accelerate again, a serene expression that implies there is nothing she would rather be doing right now than be here.

With him.

Eventually stars begin inking into existence overhead one by one, the last bit of sun lingering just on the horizon, a muted blur of violet bleeding into black. Things are slightly clearer here, beyond the boundaries of the village, no glass or light pollution to obscure the retinas.

Once she finishes her tea, Sakura lies down the same way she does on the hill, so he does, too, trying to calm his heart rate, because he is very close to her, just within reach. The forest breathes around them, coating everything in a lilac perfume.

He used to think about her, when he looked to the stars, feeling worlds away and wondering if she thought of him that day. Being next to her is better, revered, the calm din of an evening he has craved for a long time.

When he turns to steal a look, her eyes are already on him, and there is something about that moment, as the last light fades, being here with her, that makes his chest go aflame.

And then Sakura turns slightly, reaching out towards him with her right hand, and he blinks.

She sweeps his hair away from his Rinnegan eye, a thumb gently skimming his cheek as he has hers, before her hand falls away. Though they are cloaked in the gloaming of dusk’s darkness, enough he hopes to hide the warmth that has crept into his face, there is adequate light left to see her expression, so tender, jade eyes desaturated to dark sage.

He feels seen in a way that he hasn’t felt before, recalling soft words in an exam room.

Not me.

The sky is fully lit in short order, beautiful and dark with only a tiny sliver of the moon visible. It is truly lovely, Ursa Major, Leo, and Hydra scattered before them like a painting a million years old, ageless messengers traveling from who knows where, as he did. It took many steps to get here to her, scattered revolutions passing wide arcs around the sun, yearning for a day to close the gap, to feel like he was close to ready.

It was worth every single one.

A question is on the tip of his tongue, so he decides to ask it, to give in to the impulse.

“...Any poems?” He wants to learn the words she likes, what kinds of meaning she applies to things, intelligent as she is. Sasuke imagines the inner workings of Sakura’s mind to be quite complex, teeming with all of the things she’s read, research and fiction and nonfiction. He would like to know her favorite pieces of poetry, what she holds dear in her own heart.

She shifts slightly; he thinks she must be looking at him for a split second.

There is a lengthy silence punctuated by crickets before she finally answers, “A short one,” voice hushed like the breeze around them; if he wasn’t so close to her, he wouldn’t be able to hear.

He shifts his gaze to her on his right, barely able to make out her silhouette in the dark.

“Take notice of what light does - to everything.”

The words sink into him like rain on freshly tilled soil, triggering a bricolage of recollections. Instantly he is reminded of light through the window of his bathroom, stirring him from a pit of self doubt and guilt. Then light through the windows of Sakura’s apartment, cooking and doing the dishes together in her kitchen. A nap, comfortable on her couch as day fades into dusk, lamps switched off for a period of much needed rest. Flowers, grown by a doorstep with the sun’s rays seeping in through diamond patterning. The shadow of a jasmine plant, inked onto her cheekbone, and neon lights reflectant atop pale pink hair.

The intricate stitching of an uchiwa fan, thread catching iridescence as she holds it daintily in her hands as if it is something important, to be cherished.

Her eyes when she is happy, hints of gold flecks, catching like fractals of color atop shifting seafoam.

The way white nerine lilies looked drenched in sunlight, on days that are decidedly not summer monsoons.

Stars are a form of light, too, and despite being far away, they are refulgent in their luminosity, a beauty that cuts through murk and offers much for contemplation; the gaps of darkness between them are what allows people to make meaning out of them, constellations strewn together.

He is home, surrounded by spring. It is something to behold.

“...Did you write letters to Naruto?” Sakura asks after a lengthy period of reflection, so softly that her voice is almost a whisper.

The concept is so ridiculous to him that he would snort, if not for the moment they are sharing right now and the way she asked it, no hint of a joke in her tone.

So he answers seriously, just as quietly. “No.”

There is a long pause.

“...And Kakashi-sensei?”

Ah. He understands what she’s really asking. “...Other than missions, no.”

It’s hard to tell, but he thinks he sees her fingers grip in the grass next to her, gently as if in reflex.

Sasuke tries very hard to swallow his doubts.

When they were on missions as Genin, she used to lay sprawled out like this, hands spread next to her. So did Naruto. It bothered him then, because he liked his folded together on his stomach and he was very particular about personal space, which they both invaded.

Sasuke doesn’t have another hand to fold his with anymore, though, and he’s less concerned about personal space with her than he used to be. The darkness helps bolster his confidence, too, nyctophile that he is; she won’t see the heat that’s spreading to his face here, lit merely by distant flickering stars.

Take notice of what light does - to everything.

The luminaries above them offer only a little of it, yet it's a transfixing sight, something of the epochal and the divine present that he has been drawn to for years.

So he reaches out to skim her hand with his, a tentative sort of constellation in itself, recorded in points of contact and palm prints on the skin rather than etched in alembic light in the sky.

There are soft fingertips, a knuckle gently gliding by. Then she’s interlacing her fingers with his, and suddenly it’s not tentative at all. It’s leal, steady, her small hand in his as if it has always belonged there, the scent of flourishing blooms wafting around them and painting everything in his head lilac starlight.

Her thumb brushes his skin once, twice, thrice, achingly gentle.

He should have reached out sooner, but he supposes they’re young, still. There is a lot of time ahead of them. The stars will align eventually, slow in their revolutions around common centers of mass as he is in letting people in. She accepted his apology for being late already, fine fingertips clutching an uchiwa fan with a touch just as gentle as now.

If he can only hold her hand in the dark, maybe that’s enough for now, a single star he can reach. He hopes he'll reach the others eventually.

Hours pass with her hand in his, and he is a small bit closer in revolution by the time he walks her home.

Lilac and raspberry and starlight coalesce against his lips when they collide with hers, an allegorical perfume he could easily get drunk on. He skims the freckle again, tenderly osculant, and realizes that is the start of a constellation, too, a novitious star burning brighter every time he reaches out. Kissing makes three.

Her hands around his neck make four. This time he does shiver, but he doesn’t pull away.

Sakura’s lips are so soft.

XXX

He plants the lily bulbs shortly after they say good night, under the cover of the caliginous dark that shepherds in the dew of the morning, tiny drops of moisture beginning to collect on nearby blades of grass. The stars are still out, bright enough to be beautiful but dim enough so that he can’t read the names.

Sakura would help him if he asked, he knows, but he doesn’t think he’s quite ready for that yet. He settles for trying to make his touch as gentle yet sure as hers, an elegy of calloused fingers digging carefully through the dirt, grasping and placing lily bulbs one by one. There are four bulbs in total, so he plants two on each side, nine inches apart, allowing them to poke up through the soil slightly and frame the stone; he reread the instructions when he stopped by his apartment earlier. It’s a different brand of corrosion, manually digging up layers of dirt rather than hoping they slough off, but it’s progress, and it doesn't require digging too deep.

There has to be something beneath the layers of sediment, he thinks, to feel the way he does about her. He hopes that what he feels is enough, that his slow revolutions will be worthwhile for her, in the end.

I’m sure it will be lovely, when everything finally comes together.

Being in Konoha is not easy, after everything, but being with Sakura is.

When he’s lying in his own bed a short time later, he recalls the love in her fingertips against his. It lulls him to sleep.

#naruto #sasusaku #ssfanfiction #cherry writes #like gold #fanfiction #sorry for the wait it's homecoming week and i'm a yearbook adviser lolololol

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ditzydawn11 · 4 years ago

Text

keep me safe

Neville Longbottom x reader

not requested

warnings: attempted sexual assault

2500 words

THIS STORY HAS MATURE THEMES. My heart goes out to all of the ladies who are a part of the 97%. You are strong, you are beautiful, and you are not alone.

When someone tries to hurt the reader, Neville steps in and protects her like the true Gryffindor he is.

Neville was your best friend in the whole world.

In third year you had asked Professor Sprout to use her greenhouse to cultivate a plant for your own needs. You had a knack for potions and although you couldn’t stand Snape’s constant droning in class, your passion for the subject was unmatched compared to any other of your studies.

You had been trying to create a potion that would allow your pet cat, Socks, to levitate. Ever since you first picked her out in Diagon Alley during your first year she had longingly stared out the window in your dorm admiring the owls flying outside.

Obtaining the magical ingredients was no trouble, Snape often let you come and take what you needed because you were his top student. However, to make it cat safe you needed muggle cat-nip, something Snape definitely did not have on hand.

That’s what led you to the greenhouse on a cold and rainy April morning with your small pot and bag of seeds in hand. You didn’t expect anyone else to occupy the small plant house at 7:00 am on a Tuesday so you didn’t bother to knock. You let yourself in and were startled to see another student with his back towards you tending to some plant.

“Oh, hi!” you squeaked out. Before you could react, the poor boy dropped the empty pot he was holding creating a large crash and shattering the clay everywhere. “Oh I-I-I am so-so sorry. I-I didn’t know anyone w-was here,” he said between frantic breaths as he was focused on trying to pick up the pieces. “Don’t apologize, I should have knocked. Let me help you.” you kindly offered. You bent down onto your knees to his level to help pick up the broken pieces. “Here,” you said handing him a rather large piece that was still intact. Neville looked up to grab the piece from your hand. He was so caught up by his own clumsiness that he didn’t get a proper look at you. He was taken back by your beauty, the way your hair perfectly framed your face, the subtle red tint to your nose and cheeks from the cold, and the way your eyes sparkled in the early morning light. Neville could barely get a sentence out when your hands met exchanging the Terra Cotta. “Uh..thanks,” he said quickly looking back down at the ground.

You stood up and dusted off the front of your skirt. “I’m y/n by the way. Sorry again for startling you,” “Don’t worry about it. Oh um I-I uh I’m Neville.” “It’s nice to meet you, Neville, Sprout is letting me use the greenhouse to grow a plant of mine for a potion. So it looks like we will be seeing more of each other,” you happily stated.

From that moment on you and Neville became the best of friends. Though if you were being completely honest, you longed for more. You had gone out with a couple of guys on small dates over the years and Neville even took Ginny to the Yule Ball but you never really clicked with someone like you did with Neville.

Now you were in your 5th year starting to think about life after Hogwarts. Laying with your head in Neville’s lap under a big tree near the black lake you two discussed your futures and what you think you would do after graduation. “Hey Nev?” you asked interrupting the comfortable silence between the two of you. “Yes y/n?” he responded setting down the book he had been reading. “What do you want to do after we’re done with school?” you asked him while staring up at his face from down below. “I dunno, maybe teaching. I’ve pretty much taught you everything you know about Herbology,” he responded with a chuckle. “Hey!” you gave him a playful smack “though I do suppose I wouldn’t have passed my last exam without you basically teaching me the last chapter.”

“What about you?” the brown-haired boy asked while playing with the ends of your hair. “I think I want to continue my study of potions. I mean imagine developing a potion to finally reverse horrible diseases and terrible curses,” you replied subtly referencing what happened to his parents.

You were the only person Neville had told the story of his parents to. Ever since then you always made an effort to remind him of how proud his parents would be of him. He often doubted his abilities but you how brave and capable he was. You would trust him with your life.

“If anyone can brew those potions it’ll be you,” he said in a quieter tone. “Aww thanks, Nev, I know exactly who I’ll be getting my ingredients from,” you said with a smile. Nightfall was approaching so the two of you made your way back to the castle for dinner. The two of you were an unconventional duo to everyone else but to you, you were best friends and wouldn’t want it any other way.

Later that night you closed your eyes to fall asleep but your mind began to drift. You began to think about Neville which isn’t uncommon seeing that you spend most of your time together but you were thinking about him in a different way.

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought of him like this before but what’s even worse is that part of you wishes it was this way. You had noticed a bit of...tension between the two of you on occasion. Like the time you couldn’t reach the top shelf in the greenhouse so Neville came up directly behind you to get the watering can for you. Or when you grabbed Neville from the library to go and watch Fred and George’s newest prank unfold and you held his hand the whole way there. You so wished that something more could blossom between you two but the last thing you wanted to do was jeopardize your friendship. I mean having Neville as a friend is better than not having him at all. You knew you could spend hours thinking about this so you just decided to roll over and try to get some shut-eye.

A few days later you were supposed to meet Neville in your guy’s usual spot after lunch, in the greenhouse, but he didn’t show. You figured he probably forgot (something he does quite often but you secretly think is absolutely adorable) so you left to go and find him. After searching for a bit you went to check for him in his dorm. Before you knocked you could hear faint sniffling from the other side of the door. You gently knocked and called out “Neville? Is that you? Can I come in?” After a few seconds of quiet the door slowly opened to a teary Neville on the other side. You instantly dropped your bag and gave him the biggest bear hug you could. You broke the hug and asked “Neville what’s wrong? What happened?” “y/n why am I a Gryffindor? I’m so pathetic I can’t even stand up for myself,” he said through his sniffles. “Neville you are far from pathetic. You are the bravest, and most kindhearted, and loyal person I know. That’s why you’re a Gryffindor. Your parents would be so proud of you. I’m so proud of you.” you assured. It turns out that a few Slytherins sabotaged Neville’s potion in Snape’s class so it would explode everywhere. When Neville went to confront them he froze which caused everyone to laugh at him. You continued to hug him until he calmed down but you wished there was some way you could get Neville to believe in himself as you believe in him.

About a week later you found yourself sitting in the courtyard reading your transfiguration textbook for your test tomorrow. You were sitting on a small bench by yourself in a relatively secluded area of the outdoor space. You saw a figure approaching and looked up to see none other than McLaggen, someone who you often complained to Neville about on a regular basis. “So sweetheart, there’s a trip to Hogsmeade coming up and you look like you could use a date,” he said with a sickening smirk. “Bugger of Cormac,” you said as you began to collect your things. “Aww that’s no way to talk to me darling,” he said inching closer to you “you know I don’t like taking no for an answer.” Cormac McLaggen was just about the most disgusting guy at Hogwarts. He had asked out pretty much every girl in the school including yourself on multiple occasions. The answer was always a hard no but he couldn’t seem to get that through his thick skull. “I said I’m not interested now I have to get to class. Goodbye.” you hastily replied while trying to get as far away from the douchebag as you could. Before you could get very far he grabbed you and pinned you up against the stone hedge directly behind you. “What the fuck” you screamed as he began ripping open your uniform blouse and putting his hands on your chest and neck. You fought back as hard as you could but he was just too strong.

What you didn’t see was Neville watching you from afar. He had been sitting with Dean and Seamus when he saw McLaggen make his way over to you. He knew that you would never stoop to that level but it did spark a kind of jealousy in him seeing another boy talk to you that way. When he saw him push you against the wall Neville reacted before he could think and sprinted over to you as fast as he could.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing Cormac?” Neville yelled as he pulled the asshole off of his best friend. “Just showing her what a real Gryffindor is like since she seems to spend all her time with you, a pathetic excuse of a wizard,” said Cormac as he began to get closer to Neville who was standing directly in front of you as a shield. “Don’t you ever come near her again? You hear me?” Neville threatened without any hesitancy or fear in his voice. “Yeah right,” McLaggen scoffed as he advanced on Neville. However, before he could do any more damaged Neville punched him straight in the face causing Cormac to fall to the ground.

By this time a small crowd was beginning to form. McGonagall broke through the mess of students “What in the world is going on here?” She looked at the scene in front of her and quickly put together the pieces. “I see, students get to class, I’ll be taking Mr. McLaggen to Dumbledore. We do not tolerate this kind of behavior. Longbottom, I trust that you will make sure Miss y/l/n is alright. Please take her to Madam Pomfrey if she needs anything. Very well.” and she grabbed McLaggen by the arm and made her way back to the castle.

The crowd had dispersed leaving just you and Neville. Neville realized that he hadn’t even checked in on you yet because he was so disoriented from everything that just happened. He quickly spun around to face you. Your mascara was completely smeared, you were sobbing, and your blouse was ripped open leaving your bra and chest exposed. “Can I- can I touch you?” Neville softly asked not wanting to make you uncomfortable in any way. Instead of using your words you just collapsed into Neville letting his arms wrap around you in an effort to keep all the pain and ugly things as far away from you as he could.

You don’t know how long you two stayed like that but Neville pulled away eventually and used his thumb to wipe off some of your smeared black eye makeup and tears. “Here,” he said while pulling off his burgundy Gryffindor sweater and putting it over your head. He saw that you were still exposed and didn’t want anyone seeing you like that. “Do you want to go to Madam Pomfrey?” he softly asked while rubbing soothing circles on the back of your hand. You shook your head no “can we just go sit by the lake. I don’t want to go back and deal with everyone yet.” “Of course,” he replied.

Neville guided you over to the lake and you two rested under your favorite tree. There were no words exchanged between the two of you. Just comfortable silence and a telepathic-like connection that told you that everything was going to be alright. Neville rubbed soothing circles on your back as you lay your head on his lap. You don’t know how long you two stayed there but you soon realized that you must have fallen asleep because it was nearly dusk and you were in Neville’s arms walking back to the castle.

He carried you back to your common room and up to your dorm. Neville layed you down on your bed and tucked you into the covers. He made his way to the door but stopped when he heard you call out his name. “Hey, Nev? Could you maybe stay? I just don’t want to be alone right now.” “Oh, uh sure,” he said making his way back to you. He didn’t want to make you feel bad for seeming hesitant because honestly, he would love nothing more than to stay with you. However, the last thing he would want to do is to make you uncomfortable or seem like he was taking advantage of you in your time of distress. Plus with his massive crush on you, he gets incredibly nervous any time something remotely intimate or romantic occurs between you two. But he swallowed his nerves and kicked off his shoes to be there for you when you need him most. He would do anything for you. He crawled under the covers and kept a substantial amount of space between you two though honestly, the school-issued dorm beds weren’t that big.

You didn’t say a word but gently turned over so you were facing away from Neville. You scooted closer to him and in a moment of bravery grabbed his hand from the opposite side of the bed and pulled it over you so you two were cuddling. You let out a sigh of relief partly from Neville not pulling away and partly from finally finding some peace from the stress of the day.

“Neville?” you called out. “Yes y/n,” he called back. “Thank you for keeping me safe.” and soon after those few words left your mouth in the still silence of the room, you were asleep.

Neville let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and bravely planted a kiss on the top of your head. Maybe he really was a Gryffindor after all.

#neville x y/n #neville longbottom #neville x reader #neville fluff #neville longbottom imagine #neville longbottom fic #neville appreciation #hogwarts #harry potter #harry potter fic

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p4nkow · 4 years ago

Text

White Lie

Hello hello! As usual, I have no idea of what this is about 💀 I saw a post it said that they were currently filming in a school and my dumb ass was like Oh right, they’re in high school

Part two

I loved writing for Rafe, pretending that he isn’t a lil piece of shit, so I hope you enjoy it as much as I did while writing it!

Summary: Being a secret girlfriend wasn’t exactly how you’d planned to spend your high school years. As a question keeps haunting you, you face Rafe about the nature of your relationship

Warnings: swearing?? A making out session? Oh and also some angst

gif not mine so credit to the owner! and don’t mind what’s written in it 💀

Being a secret girlfriend wasn’t exactly how you’d planned to spend your high school years. Everyone kept saying that those were supposed to be the best years of your life — the years during which you make memories you’ll cherish forever, the ones you’ll tell you grandchildren someday.

A lot of good things had happened to you so far — you’d made some good friends, the kind of friendships that last a lifetime. You’d been accepted as a cheerleader, which wasn’t as exciting as you thought it would be. However, it was a good distraction from your shitty Pogue life back in the island. You even got a job — Kie had asked you to work as a waitress at her family’s restaurant, The Wreck. When she said ‘Just think about it’, you said Yes in a heartbeat. No need to think about it. That job would help you provide for yourself and pay your food, after all.

Oh, and yeah. You also got a boyfriend.

A guy who you came so abruptly and suddenly in your life that he turned it upside down without you even noticing. Because never, not even in a million years, you would have imagined that you’d be dating Rafe Cameron. The Rafe Cameron. The Kook king.

It wasn’t planned — like at all — for you to fall for him.

Everything started out as a flirt — some staring at the keggers down at the Boneyard, some casual touches in the hallways, and then you ended up making out in The Wreck’s men’s room. Neither of you had planned it, and you didn’t even dare to imagine what your friends — or even his — would say about it. Everyone in the Outer Banks knew that between the two groups there was some bad blood.

But thankfully they didn’t know anything. They didn’t because you were with a guy who wouldn’t openly say that was dating you. The thought hurt you every time — was it your fault? Was he ashamed of you?

The only time you’d brought it up, hiding how it truly hurt you, he gave you a frown and simply said “You know — it’s... it’s because of my father.”

Of course you knew that his relationship with his father was at loggerheads. Hell, it was so bad that you weren’t even sure that there was a relationship between them. Still, Rafe wanted to please him so badly that he wouldn’t even tell him that he was dating a Pogue.

But you’d be lying if you didn’t say that it had been fine by you too, at first.

After all, what the two of you shared was something special and as such, you didn’t want to yell it through the halls. And, to be quite honest, you feared your friends’ reactions. You didn’t even dare imagine what JJ would say if he knew you were sneaking around with Rafe Cameron.

But you had to admit that playing secret boyfriends with him was fun. The risk of getting caught made everything even more exciting. It made every look, every touch even more significant.

Two months ago, if someone told you that Rafe Cameron loved to cuddle at night, you would’ve laughed right in his face. And now you were the one he held close to his body every night as he slept peacefully. Funny how fast the night changes, huh?

There were times when you thought that you were going to get caught with your hands in the cookie jar — Sarah once walked in on you as you were making out on his desk, but you quickly hid your face in his chest as he surrounded you with his arms. She didn’t even have the chance to give a proper look at you, considering that she flew off the room. Now she made sure to knock every time she had to speak to him.

But now that the summer had ended, you were worried about how your relationship with Rafe would develop. Would you still have the chance to sneak around, trying to avoid the prying eyes of the islanders?

But since the moment you set foot at the Kildare County High School, things went down quicker than you could ever imagine.

Rafe was a class ahead of you, considering that he was a year older, so you didn’t really have many chances to see him in the morning. And when you crossed him in the hallways, he would look at you but openly ignore your presence.

And every single time he walked past you without saying a word, you felt your heart break a little.

The few moments you were given with Rafe during the day, the way he made you feel, the way your skin burned whenever he touched you or how he’d always play with your hair — was all of it worth the way you felt everyday because of his behavior?

And that question kept haunting you, remaining unanswered.

It was a Thursday morning and it wasn’t a particularly exciting day at the Kildare County High School. Well, actually, days seemed all the same there.

Between third and fourth period, you had to stop by your locker to grab your history book, and John B offered to walk you.

“Can’t believe I’m already failing history”, he groaned, a frown forming in his face. History book in one hand and the other hand hidden in his jeans pocket, John B got a lot of stares from the girls chatting in the hallway. Could you blame them?

As you swung open the door of your locker, you gave him a quick look. “C’mon, you’re not gonna fail it. We’ve just started.”

The hallways ware starting to get crowded as everyone hurried to move to their next class, chitchats filling the orange walls of the building.

“Yeah, and the guy already hates me”, he quickly added as he leaned towards the lockers next to yours.

When he groaned, you couldn’t help but shoot him another look. “What?”

“Why is he everywhere I go?”, he murmured between his teeth, leaning his face close to yours to make sure not to be heard by anyone else.

Brows narrowed, confused expression and hand still in the air while holding your history book, you moved your gaze to the point he was nodding at.

And there, standing near the cafeteria’s open door with some of his classmates, there was Rafe. Topper was there, as well as Kelce and two girls you didn’t know.

His features were relaxed as he laughed with them, the fluorescents reflecting an unnatural light on his light brown hair, neatly pulled back by some gel. He was wearing his football team’s jersey, which fit him so well that you couldn’t move your gaze away from him.

You didn’t like the way your stomach twisted at the sight of him in the company of those girls and you sure as hell didn’t like the way he was openly ignoring your presence.

Lost in your thoughts, you’d probably been staring at him for way too long when John B frowned again and, waving a hand in front of your face, said “Y/N?”

“What?” You blinked a few times, looking back at him. “Yeah, sorry. You were saying?”

John B gave a quick look at the group you were staring at with a weird look on his face before turning back to you. “Uh, nothing. We’re late for class, c’mon.”

When you closed your locker with a loud thud, probably using more strength than needed, Rafe finally noticed you. And his fists immediately clenched at the sight of John B standing right next to you.

He’d done everything in his power to bite the bullet and get over the fact that you were friends with him and his group. But he couldn’t stand the sight of that Routledge standing so close to you. Or the way the two of you moved almost in unison, as if it was natural for him to second your movements.

You were in the middle of your history class when your phone vibrated when you received a message.

Rafe: Meet me outside.

Giving a quick look at the teacher, whose back was turned to you as he wrote on the board, you re-read the text to make sure that you weren’t dreaming.

As much as you wanted to give in at his request, you quickly typed I’m the middle of my class.

You didn’t put the phone away, hoping that Rafe would reply. It was the only way you could contact him and you were more than happy to hear from him after the coldness he showed in the hallway.

Rafe: Say you have to go to the bath or smth. C’mon, baby.

Biting your bottom lip at his words was an automatic reaction, and you gave a quick look at your classmates to make sure that no one had noticed you blushed.

When you met John B’s eyes, he raised a brow in a silent questioning look. To dismiss your weird behavior, you just shook your head and looked away.

It took you a few moments to summon the courage to speak up, waiting for the teacher to turn towards you before raising your hand, catching his attention. “Uhm... Mister Suarez? May I go to the bathroom?”

He dismissed you with a hand gesture, which you took as a Yes, so you hurried to gather your things up and leave the class.

You weren’t exactly sure of what he meant by ‘outside’, so you looked both ways in the hallway, trying to spot him. Everything was quiet, the quiet buzzing of the fluorescents was the only sound in the background. So, when you started to walk towards your left, heading to the back exit, your footsteps echoed all around you.

Each step you took, the more excited you were. It was unusual for Rafe to ask you to do something like that, especially at school, and that’s probably the reason why you were so tense. All the hurt from before seemed vanished as you walked, being replaced by nothing but excitement.

But you knew it was only a temporary change.

A hand surrounded your bicep as you were about to walk past the chemistry lab, dragging you in as you let out a surprised squeak. There was no need for you to look up to know that it was Rafe.

The lab door closed behind you with a loud thud, isolating you from the rest of the school. The room was in semi-darkness, and that’s all you could notice before Rafe made your bag slide off your shoulder and land on the floor, being immediately forgotten there.

His blue eyes immediately found yours as he made you move backwards towards the nearest table. “Rafe”, you whispered, unable to form a meaningful thought.

“Shh”, he whispered back, caressing your bottom lip with his thumb.

And then his lips crashed on yours, not leaving you the time to process what was going on. Your instinct was to place both hands in the back of his neck, holding some strands of his perfectly styled locks between your fingers.

When your back hit the side of the table, both his hands slid down to your ass, further to your thighs. He lifted you by them, making you sit on the board without even thinking of pulling away from your lips.

Placing a hand on your lower back, he made you slide towards him, in such a way as to press your bodies together. When he pulled away from your lips to take a deep breath, he shifted his attention to your neck. Understanding his intentions, you leaned your head to second his movements, biting your bottom lip as he started to leave wet, hot kissed down to your neck.

“Rafe”, you murmured again, completely lost in those sensations. Your hands were now cupping his face, trying to pull him as close as possible to you.

But then, as your heard loud footsteps right out of the door, you repeated in a warning tone “Rafe, wait.”

The way his head quickly snapped towards the hallway told you that he’d heard them, too.

When he turned again towards you, you realized that he’d taken a few steps back from you were sitting, moving away as if he was being charged with electricity.

His reaction hurt you, again. All the excitement of the moment had quickly vanished and now you felt even more hurt than before. Hurt, used and humiliated.

When you tried to swallow to get rid of the knot that had formed in your throat, you felt tears watering your eyes, forcing you to look away from him.

With a little jump, you got off the table and hurried to get your bag from the floor. Rafe was still standing there, and he started to react only when you swung the door open and walked out of the lab.

“Y/N”, you heard him saying from behind you, but you didn’t stop.

As you stormed out of the building, quickly getting rid of the tears that had watered your cheeks, you heard his firm steps following you. “Fuck, Y/N. Wait!”

He only managed to reach you when you finally got to your car, stopping right behind you. He placed a hand on the door of the vehicle to stop you from opening it. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

When you turned towards him, his face was just a few inches away from yours. And his heart ached a bit when he saw your eyes filled with tears. He tried to cup your cheek, but you looked away and avoided his touch. “Y/N?”, he repeated. “Talk to me, baby.”

“Are you embarrassed of me?”, you suddenly asked.

His brows frowned in confusion at your question, as he slightly shook his head in denial. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Answer me”, you demanded. “Are you embarrassed of being seen with me, Rafe?”

“No!”, he abruptly answered. “Of course not! Fuck”, he muttered under his breath, narrowing his eyes as if he couldn’t believe what you were asking him.

“Then why are we still keeping it a secret?” Your voice was now way lower than before. Resigned, even.

Rafe’s lips parted and you could see the indecision growing in his eyes. His beautiful, troubled eyes. “You know why”, he whispered.

Even though you tried to hide it, the irony in your voice was evident when you asked “Your father, right?”

And he fiercely nodded. “Yes! Yes, of course.”

Shifting your weight from one foot to the other, you swallowed hard. With a burden on your heart, you murmured in a low voice “Because I’m a Pogue.”

Rafe didn’t reply. He wanted to — all he wanted to do was comfort you and fix whatever was going on between the two of you at the moment, but there was nothing he could say.

“You can’t tell him about us — you don’t want him to find out about us, because you’re embarrassed of the fact that I’m a Pogue”, you concluded. And that was the unvarnished truth.

Rafe’s shoulders dropped at your words and he pulled away his hand from the car door. His eyes were glossy as you gave him a last look, before turning your back to him and getting in your car.

“Y/N”, you heard him murmur as you threw your bag on the passenger seat and turned on the engine. “Don’t go. Please.”

The vulnerability in his voice almost made you give in, but there was no turning back. So you drove away from the parking lot, leaving a hurt Rafe watching you slide away from his fingers.

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe cameron #rafe outer banks #rafe x y/n #obx imagine #obx #outer banks #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey #drew starkey imagine #outer banks imagine

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caguaydreams · 4 years ago

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A thorough analysis on why Vah Medoh’s dungeon theme makes me want to cry

Yep, that’s an accurate title. Hi there! do you have a moment to hear about Breath of The Wild soundtrack? posting for yet a third time in hopes that tumblr won't hide it. I'm so tired

What started as a quick and harmless post, pretending to simply point out a couple of things, rolled downhill, out of my grasp and turned into a massive snowball of a short essay. How and why did this happen? Well, I assume a lot of people know about this song, and know what I’m talking about when I say that it makes me tear up and sob uncontrollably with every change in key as the seconds tick by and I spiral down into a dwell of misery from where I struggle to find the exit and to later recover.

……No?…..At the VERY LEAST it makes you a little uncomfortable. And I state this with much certainty, because after reading hundreds of comments everywhere online where this song is present, I picked up on a vast majority of people who expressed to feel the same way I did when it came down to our current music subject. See, statistics don’t lie… normally. So, naturally, my intrigue got the best of me. I wanted to find out exactly why this soundtrack was mercilessly stirring up everyone’s emotions, so I caved in and we ended up with this.

Buckle in, fellas.

Out of all Divine Beasts’ dungeon themes, Vah Medoh’s is the one that I can’t sit through. Not without growing antsy and wanting to turn it off as soon as possible. I find it genuinely difficult to listen to, and it’s not only because Revali is my favorite character and the song is just, plainly put, depressing, mind you.

We’ll start from 0 terminals activated.

It opens up similar to the other three dungeon themes; the pace is slow but eerie, gives off the impression that it sounds broken somehow. Something is off here, and it’s easy to figure out what that is from the get go: you’re basically entering a majestic, ancient, mechanical mausoleum, where everything went terribly wrong a century ago. Someone is gone, someone you knew, someone who was probably close to you, but it’s impossible to be sure. You don’t remember a thing, and this entire ordeal is confusing at best, and terrifying at worst. It’s your duty to make things right again.

It’s the same for all four Divine Beasts upon entering, save for the obvious little differences that separates them from each other and make them unique. Ruta’s is played on a major key, adhering to a sense of hopefulness. Naboris’s begins with a startling smashing of the piano keys, much like thunder of a sudden lighting strike. And Rudania’s theme starts threatening, dangerous, like scalding lava.

But now, back to Vah Medoh. The tone here is… alienating. The dissonant chords are all over the place, and feel disconnected, cold. It’s almost as if someone doesn’t want us to be here, or just like the elusive key, our presence is unexpected. Fitting, for a Divine Beast that’s high above the land, impossible for most to reach, yet we somehow made it. Apart from the piano, we have the occasional hint to rito culture, in the shape of a short, synthetic version of the rolled chords at the very beginning of Rito Village. A quiet reminder of where we come from. There is also, of course, the morse code distress signal, but we’ll talk more about that later.

As soon as this formal introduction is over, we finally get to the more, say, intimate stuff. Oh, and wouldn’t you know, it’s just tragic.

One terminal activated.

There’s no better short way I can describe this passage, other than anxiety-inducing. Especially when the strings come into play, and there’s two reasons I can think of why I feel this is an important thing to point out:

1- Characters and Symbolism.

I tend to associate stringed instruments, all of those which compose the violin family, with rito culture. And Revali, most specifically. In Creating a Champion we can see the early concept art and designs for all or most major characters in the game, and Revali’s highlighted rough design might be the one that changed the most throughout proper development of the character, out of all champions. He looks quite different from our usual depiction of him, it’s fascinating. What truly catches my eye, however, is the design of his bow.

You thought bird puns were bad? Oh boy, how do you feel about Revali having a bow that looks like a violin/cello/viola??? And do you need a bow to play it also??? Like, is it even an instrument or it’s nothing more than a mere fashion statement?-

Anyway. I believe this was originally going to be a not-so-subtle wink to rito culture, being heavily musically inclined as we can see and conclude for ourselves. Perhaps Revali was going to be a musician as well, now how cool it that!

Needless to say, the idea was eventually scrapped. But one detail I am CERTAIN carried over to the character we know and love today(okay not all of us love him but seriously if you dislike him why are you still here lol): strings. The association between bows(weapon) and stringed instruments, aside from being a quite clever and creative one, goes beyond the concept art and remains strong as part of Revali’s character, settling for having a presence via score. After all, Revali is a master of archery, so in that way it makes sense to keep strings as symbolism to reinforce the idea and drive it home.

But can you guess what other thing Revali excels at? That’s right: flying. He’s the only rito we know of who successfully managed to take advantage of wind currents and bend them to his will. And do you know what musical instruments are often used to evoke the feeling of flight and gale? If you thought of bowed strings, you’re correct! Unfortunately, I couldn’t find much support on this topic online, so you’ll have to take my word for it. I am most certain that this is fact, although not something worth discussing on the Internet, by the looks of it.

Anyhow, violins/cellos/etc are ever-present whenever we’re close to Rito Village or dealing with a rito related mission. Attack on Vah Medoh, for example, features a sequence of strings that is meant to evoke the strong winds we’re fighting against in that particular moment(*). Another great example is The Final Trial, the song that plays at the shrine of resurrection nearing the end of the Champions’ Ballad. Preceding the activation of each terminal, you’ll notice that a new instrumental element joins the crowd: the first one corresponds to the tambourines, related to the zora and Mipha; the second one are strings, referencing the rito and Revali, etc. I tell you, the moment I heard this during the trial I almost started crying like a baby. And, although strings have a lot to do with Rito culture in general, they tie most strongly to Revali, since he was the champion of his people, and his legacy carried over throughout the years. His accomplishments became material of folk tale, a legend, a source of pride and inspiration for the village. And let’s not forget that, at the end of the day, Revali is the crucial and foremost connection Link has to this place. Other than appeasing Vah Medoh, Link’s responsibility here is to free his past fellow champion’s spirit from Ganon’s malice. The soundtrack is referencing Revali first, and by extension his devotion to his home.

With all that in mind, let’s move on to our next point:

2- Nowhere to Go.

You shoot the canons, land on top of the Divine Beast, do what you gotta do, activate the first terminal and the soundtrack goes off unannounced. Like some sort of surprise anxiety bomb. The rhythm turns fast, the melody erratic, incredibly desperate in its execution. There’s this sheer despair, fear, this feeling of suffocation almost, which are so well achieved in this particular piece.

And that is, partially, because a quite familiar resource is used here as well; one that we’ve heard before in songs such as Rito Village or Revali’s theme. You could even think of it as a motif: two notes are played in an semitone interval, repeatedly and in quick succession. For the sake of later convenience, we’ll call this the Flight Motif, now let me explain why. In Breath of The Wild, this semitone loop is often followed up by some form of resolution. In Rito Village, formerly known as Dragon Roost Island(**), that resolution consists of a graceful descent of the melody, from a high that was built up previously during the motif. On the other hand, if you listen to Revali’s theme, you’ll notice that the interval repeats itself for a couple of times as thought charging up, to then rise fast and determined into a triumphal reprise of Revali’s distinctive assigned melody. This juxtaposition supposes the difference that lays between common rito flight and Revali’s trademark ability; both musical sequences are speaking of flight, albeit in two different languages depending on the way to achieve it. While the rito traditionally use their wings to glide and let themselves get swayed by the air currents Buzz Lightyear style, Revali takes full advantage of his flying capabilities to somehow create an updraft of his own, rising meters above the ground whenever he likes or needs to.

So, now that I layed out my base of thought when focusing on the strings, this’ll be much easier to explain. We’ve settled what the instruments themselves are a symbolic representation of Revali, in this scenario specifically. He was the only one inside Vah Medoh, and the score is, in a way, a retelling of what we can vaguely assume went down here during the Great Calamity, as much as it is what sets the tone and ambience for Link’s mission. But what are we hearing exactly? What we talked about, the Flight Motif, is being repeated nonstop. And that’s the thing, remember how I mentioned that this sequence usually finds resolution at the end? Well. Inside Vah Medoh,… it never does. The melody picks up in numerous occasions, but it’s not nearly as graceful, or calculated, as we’ve grown used to by now. It gets tangled and lost, and then inevitably falls to the ground in disarray. The pattern repeats itself, reaching higher after a handful of failed attempts, but no matter how much it tries, the cycle never ends. What used to tell us about flying and freedom in the skies, has morphed into an almost sinister musical incarnation of a tornado, and there is no way out of this trap. What do you think it must feel like to mindlessly flap your wings against wind currents so strong and violent, that it is impossible to get anywhere nearby, let alone take off every time you lose your balance. Or every time you’re shot down. On top of that, trying to aim and fight back in whatever short breaks and opportunities you get, at an enemy that’s much more powerful and relentless, who’s using your own element as a weapon to destroy you… it’s a risk Revali surely had to take in order to put up a fight. Even knowing full well that the odds were not in his favour, that he was most likely going to lose this battle, that he was going to die. Let that sink in. I’ll skip the activation of the second terminal, since there’s barely any change registered in the theme in general. So-

Three terminals activated.

I know this post is supposed to be a breakdown of the song purely, but that doesn’t mean there’s no place for a little theorising, and the following scrutiny is also quite relevant for our discussion. Bear with me for a bit. I’ve read almost everywhere about people’s most common interpretations on the Divine Beasts SOS signals, and how everyone thinks that Revali’s coming in last (a few seconds later than the other champions) has to do with him holding on for longer. Or, also, overconfident as he was, it means that the idea of calling out for additional support didn’t cross his mind until it was too late, and that’s why the beeping sounds more frantic and panicked than the others’ when it does appear. After giving it some thought myself, I’m betting on the latter option holding more ground, and that’s not all. I want to touch upon a detail of the piece that I never acknowledged was there until very recently(after seeing myself obliged to listen to this song fully and a handful of times, suffering every minute of it for the sole purpose of this analysis. It’s okay I didn’t need my heart anyway). Soon after activating the third terminal, the SOS signal disappears, or grows distant and faint enough that we can’t make it out from the background anymore. In its place, we’re confronted by this… shrill, piercing and painfully slow tune. It sounds synthetic, artificial, devoid of life. And it’s funny, because you know what it reminds me of? I’ll tell you:

A heartbeat flatline sound.

And I want to highlight that this doesn’t happen in any of the other Divine Beasts themes. All their SOS signals carry on, but Medoh’s is no more. This abrupt stop, followed by this bone-chilling tune…. makes me believe that Revali was the first of the champions to fall. A few days ago I came across SuperZeldaGirl’s video on a similar topic, theorising that this could very much be the case. There is not much evidence to support this claim other than some visual cues that could be suggesting to it, but after I found this in the soundtrack, and if we’re to rely on it for anything, I believe Revali was either the first champion to be ambushed by Ganon, or well…. the first to be killed. It is plausible, because short after Calamity Ganon unleashes his power, Revali parts from the group and flies directly to Vah Medoh, and he very well could’ve been the first pilot to arrive.

On this note…. we’ll have to wait and see for ourselves, when Age of Calamity provides long-awaited answers to many of our questions.

Four terminals activated.

An interesting melody is being played on what, for me, would qualify as a glockenspiel or a celesta, which are keyboard based instruments that produce a sound similar to that of a music box(***). If you want to pay more attention to it, I suggest listening to Vetrom’s Instrumental Mix Cover of the theme, where they practically zoom in on this part of the song (keep in mind that it uses the All Terminals’ time signature so it’s being played faster). For some reason, this particular addition makes me feel profound empathy. The sound of this instrument could be described as cute or childlike, magical, even. It is more often than not used to represent innocence, but I highly doubt that’s specifically the intention here. Much like the leading strings’ melody, the melodic contour of this one is trapped in a loop of going up and down constantly, but the difference is that this time around it sounds more under control. And much more uniform too. It doesn’t lose focus or takes risky, fruitless leaps, but rather chooses to stay on a path of waves that consistently rises and falls without taking detours. Like a determined battle strategy, giving it your all. You fall, but get back up again, and try again, and again. It reminds me of Revali’s approach to training, being persistent to the point of overworking himself. He had discipline nailed down to a tee, which I also think served him well in combat. It’s not just about being hard on yourself, either, but being confident and having complete faith in your abilities; believing that you’ll make it. For this to appear now, that the SOS signal is almost completely gone, is significant because it means that by this point, being so close to success on Link’s behalf, the music is sparing genuine encouragement for once, in spite of the tragic outcome of the past and the danger of the current situation. But, in all honesty, this is probably just me reading too much into it. Perhaps the composer just thought this addition sounded pretty bitching and there’s not much else to it, which is completely fine. Although, intentional or not, sometimes coincidences do happen, and at the end of the day, interpretations like this are a form of appreciation for an artist’s work and for what they can unknowingly accomplish.

All terminals activated.

This is the moment when the song finally lightens up. Notice how the strings abandon the wave pattern for a more even contour. The beat quickens, the melody stabilizes. At first I thought, coming from our flight analogy, that this meant a cease in movement entirely, and it was partly one of the reasons why the song in general makes me anxious. But thinking about it now, …there is something different going on here. The strings are playing on a steady rhythm. It resembles a march, it’s like a pounding heart. It’s a lively, hopeful statement. And what’s interesting is that, up until this point, there was so much fear and helplessness present in the score, even going as far as to reach a dead end when we activate the third terminal. But that’s it, isn’t it? the music just keeps going further.

It’s saying: this isn’t over yet. Even after complete and utter defeat, there’s still hope and an underlying wish to overcome this predicament, and we started to hear this as soon as a fourth terminal is activated. The melody we previously talked about? it’s here as well, and its beat is much more daring and confident.

And I just want to say… this is so powerful. Because this sentiment is deeply tied to the game’s story and Revali’s character arc. You see, he is introduced as someone who resents Link for being the manifestation of his failure, in a way, because Revali has trained arduously his whole life to be where he is, to be recognised. And yet… this hylian gets chosen by a magic sword and some tale of divine destiny and, apparently, that’s all it takes for him to be deemed the hero that will save the land. In Revali’s eyes, Link has done nothing to prove his worth before him, so it is easy to see why he despises the silent knight so much; he is yet another individual that was born into their destiny. Meanwhile, Revali has had to build his reputation from the ground up, earning him a place among the greatest warriors of Hyrule, and even then he finds himself surrounded by people who grew up praised for being born gifted. We can see how Revali is the odd one out, and can map out the reason for him acting so antagonistic towards Link.

But once we’re on Medoh, things start to change. When Link enters the Divine Beast, Revali greets him with disdain, as per usual. Of course, Link has no recollection of whatever happened a hundred years ago, other than a small glimpse of the rito champion talking down to him, a memory that came and went in a flash. So as Link, we more than expect Revali to act cold and mocking, which he does. He provides us with as little help as needed in order to free Medoh, reluctantly, shielding his wounded pride over having to wait for Link, of all people, to come to their rescue. But you can hear him starting to open up bit by bit(I wish I could translate his dialogue directly from Japanese but I’ll make do with a couple of dubs and other numerous sources from translators online). With each little step Link takes towards success, activating the terminals, the perception Revali has of him shifts from one of resentment to one of genuine admiration and respect. By the end of it all, he is willing to not only cheer on Link during the boss battle, but to trust him with his life’s worth achievement. And once left alone, he admits defeat and lets go of his bitterness, realising that he was wrong to underestimate Link, and later wishes he could’ve had a chance to measured up to him. To take all of this into consideration and work with it in the soundtrack I think it’s genuinely splendid. And for once, I am grateful that it ends in somewhat of a positive note that puts my soul to rest. I still have a hard time listening to the first two thirds of the entire thing, but now I can look forward to a hopeful and earnestly heartening conclusion for all the pain that this composition puts me in. I must admit that it’s beautifully and brilliantly crafted, and that I am enamoured of it regardless.

That is why I wrote roughly 4k words about it! I hate myself!

If you’re as crazy as me about the soundtrack of this game, I recommend you read the published cd interview with the composers themselves! if you haven’t already. I just found it yesterday(unbelievable but it’s true) and… after writing all of this and checking it out, I felt validated. It sure is a one of a kind feeling.

Alright folks, we’ve made it to the end. Congratulations for sticking around and thanks being interested in my nonsensical rambling!

I also hope that you, like me, will now be unable to listen to bowed strings without being reminded of Revali. Good luck!

————– Annotations/Sidenotes/Whatever

(*)The Flight Motif(in point number 2) is also present in this track. We can hear it in the background right after the Rito leitmotif, as per usual. It starts with a clarinet, I think, before the strings take the lead. (**) Note that the Flight Motif only comes into play in the Breath of The Wild rendition of the song. (***)I strongly associate this instrument with Mipha, given that it is used in her theme, in every “response” to the initial melody. It can be heard in Attack On Vah Ruta, as well, it enters the scene when the notes Mi(E) and Fa(F) are played. The initial tune, Si and Do(B and C) are played on a clarinet or oboe, wind instruments just like the flute that leads Sidon’s respective theme. The celesta can also be heard inside Vah Ruta, activating the first terminal…. when the song really takes a turn just like Medoh’s. Mipha has nothing to do with the song of this analysis, however. We must understand that instruments, although they are attached to characters/various story elements in some cases, can always be used outside of that context, for that is the nature of an orchestral soundtrack. If you have this many tools at your disposal, you will make good use of them.

#Revali #Vah Medoh #botw #loz #aoc

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mammons-tax-returns · 4 years ago

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HDJXKDKFF I KNOW I HAVE REQUESTS BUT I NEEDED THIS PLEASE FORGIVE ME THIS WAS SO TIME CONSUMING AND FOR WHAT>> TO SATISFY MY DYSPHORIA/fA<>>A???

synapsis ; Satan and MC often discuss the plot lines of their favorite books, but this time, it’s a little bittersweet

✖️MALE MC✖️ comfort, kinda sad, fluff?

MC could practically feel the past few sleepless nights tugging at his limbs. He yawned into his hand. “I probably shouldn’t have pulled an all nighter last night, huh?” He chuckled a little to make light of the situation.

Satan sighed helplessly, brushing some of his hair out of his eyes. “I told you this would happen. You’d better watch yourself before I force you to get proper hours of sleep.” His emerald eyes never left the pages of his most recent favorite novel series. “Lucifer isn’t as worried for your grades considering you won’t be here for as long as us.”

“That’s true... But even still, I wouldn’t want to disappoint Luci.” MC rubbed his eyes a bit before responding.

There was only a scoff in response from the blonde, along with mutters definitely slandering his older brother.

“But never mind that. Wanna update me on your book?” MC grabbed his own book from the table to his side and took a seat on Satan’s bed. He has learned from experience that Satan read books far beyond his comprehension level-- far beyond the comprehension level of some of the smartest demons as well. But the plots are interesting enough that listening to Satan relay the insights to him has become a hobby.

“Well.... Amanthy ends up saving the prince from the monster right in the nick of time, but get this; the two of them don’t get married.” MC finally gets to see Satan’s eyes when he looks up in mild excitement. They’re blazing so brightly that it nearly burns him as he watches them. This normally happened when Satan was allowed to rant about a book.

“Amanthy calls off the marriage because he didn’t think that the prince was strong enough to be with him on his journey. I really recommend you reading this part at the very least. Now that you know what’s actually happening in it, you can focus on how incredibly this author deepens the understanding of Amanthy and his intents.”

Amanthy... Would you really end it all just like that? MC found himself wondering. It must have been the fact that MC projected him and Satan onto the two ex-love birds in the novel. Amanthy was clearly a sophisticated book-loving mage similarly to Satan, and the prince was a simple man in a foreign world trying to figure everything out. Just like MC being thrown into the Devildom. Together, the two fought and travelled together.

As childish as it is, MC was hopeful that they would end up together in the end, just because of his crush on Satan. And hearing the news about their wedding almost felt like a personal attack.

He can’t respond immediately. “Oh.” He breathes, “That’s surprising... I, uh. Did not expect that.” A small laugh. How was he supposed to answer?

“I feel the same. It was not hinted at in the slightest...” Satan held his chin between his thumb and index finger. “But I understand Amanthy. I mean, looking at it realistically... The prince had his sword, and even with the little magic he had, surely he could have fought the beast instead of waiting for it to kill him... Amanthy is a strong man, and I’m not sure how well he’d hold up being with someone like that.”

“Hmm. Interesting... This whole plot was just one turn after another. You really have an eye for good books... The beginning of that story was a bit slow.” MC tried to seem as invested as possible. But it was proving to be much more difficult than it seemed. Although he knew Satan can’t be held accountable for something like this... Does he really think that Amanthy was in the right?

There was a knot forming in the very bottom of his stomach. So then, would he do the same thing in that situation? Would he really drop me if he had to save me like that?

“The story certainly did pick up speed... Even I was impressed. But it truly added to the character development! Amanthy is a smart man for what he did, and he’s really selling it to me. I wonder if that shopkeeper from the last chapter will reappear...” He flipped several pages back as if to see if it was hinted at anywhere. “She looked like a better fit for our bookworm protagonist... Or maybe he’s better off on his own?”

MC’s mood just seemed to be going down a never ending decline. The shopkeeper? Who was literally everything that he wasn’t?

Satan continued before MC could comment, “The prince was always a bit of a dead weight, I can admit. There were times that I found myself criticizing him for little things, but never fully disliked him... Although there was much more to him than his exterior, I suppose.”

Okay, now this was a full blown call out post for MC. The prince getting called a dead weight for the protagonist? Suddenly, MC constantly having to be reminded by Satan to sleep seemed a little more daunting.

“So that’s how you look at it...” MC hummed and buried his face in his book, careful with his phrasing and hoping that the intuitive male in front of him couldn’t pick up on his hurt.

“Of course... How would you see it?” Satan leaned a little closer.

This man will be the end of me, and he won’t even know it.

MC cleared his throat and shifted a little out of discomfort. “I mean... I guess I sympathize with the prince a little. He hasn’t really gotten the chance to protect himself... A-And that’s the first time he’s been left with such a powerful beast, right? Just a few weeks ago, he was in his castle watching the knights spar, and now he’s here defending himself alone.” Don’t seem suspicious, MC. You got this. You can do this at the very least, can’t you? “Amanthy had a good connection with him. I can’t believe he’d just overlook that because the prince needs help understandably. I mean, isn’t that what a lover is for? To love and support?”

Satan’s lips tugged into a simple smile. “Ahh, so that’s how it is. I’m surprised you can pay so much attention right now when you’ve barely slept. You could barely keep your eyes open earlier.” He playfully ruffled MC’s hair.

His affectionate touch stung, and his words stabbed deep into MC’s core. He knew no harm was meant, and yet he couldn’t help but feel horrible. Why couldn’t he just listen to Satan’s nagging?

“But your opinion is just as strong as mine!” MC added quickly, hoping that Satan didn’t think he was disregarding him. “Maybe calling off the wedding was the right choice in the end... After all, the prince was kinda shady in the first few chapters right? Maybe he’ll prove to be the bad guy.”

Satan seemed to think it over for a moment. “ I suppose... But the prince is a bit more respectful than that, don’t you think?”

And now he’s defending the prince? Make up your mind already, MC silently thought.

“Y-Yeah, I guess so...” Am I as respectful as him, someone of literal royalty? MC breathed out slowly. Even if I am, what difference does that make, Satan?

Some time passed after that, and MC couldn’t get passed a single page in his book. His mind was a confusing jumble of thoughts. Some of them hoped that Satan would react differently if proposed the same situation. And some justified Amanthy’s decision in a sickening submission to his situation. His ‘situation’ is an inevitable unrequited love for Satan. And now he’s aware that Satan probably wouldn’t consider someone like him as a spouse even if given the chance. Great.

“MC? If you’re tired you should sleep.”

The (H/C) haired male jumped. He looked up to see Satan way too close for comfort at the moment. He felt himself flush. “I’m not! This story is too interesting for that.”

“You haven’t turned a single page. And you looked a little scary.” Satan chuckled. “Is it Lucifer? Is that rat stressing you for your grades?”

“Well, no... It’s just,” Phrase this properly, please. “I’m all hung up on that whole marriage situation. If... If you had to make that decision, would you call off the marriage too?”

Satan had a look of shock. “Hmm... I guess I hadn’t considered that.” He thought for a second. “I don’t think I would. I may have chosen Amanthy’s side, but I’m not him.”

Geez, that’s a big relief.

“But what about you? Would you do the same?”

Okay, now that was unexpected. MC blinked. “I definitely wouldn’t have. You heard my piece earlier. I wouldn’t leave someone just because they were incapable of things like that.”

... Was that too much information?

“Really... Interesting.” Satan leaned back into the cushions on the seat. “It’s almost spellbinding how similar you are to him, and yet you two have such different ideals.”

“Yeah...” MC answered subconsciously. “And it really--... Wait. Come again?”

How similar I am to Amanthy? No. I must have heard wrong. It just doesn’t make sense. There’s no way that he would compare me to someone as great as-

“I must have never mentioned it, but I tend to project the people I know onto storybook characters.” He seemed a little bashful, as he couldn’t quite make eye contact with MC. “Amanthy is a very selfless mage that happens to have a habit of staying up for days on end to finish his studies. He... He reminds me of you.” A small tinge of pink crawled onto his cheeks. “Sometimes, it also feels like you’re the protagonist of a great story, too.”

MC was flabbergasted. This conversation is hitting him harder than the actual plot of the book being discussed. “Th-Then, who do you see as the prince?” This wasn’t adding up. He couldn’t imagine who it could be if it wasn’t him.

“Me, of course.” Satan responded without missing a single beat. “I hate to admit it, but as the youngest brother, I tend to... Blow things out of proportion. And the others say it’s because I haven’t experienced the same things as them. I don’t quite understand it... But I guess I really don’t need to.” He looked lost in his own mind as he explained.

He continued as MC struggled to put everything together. “The prince was told many of the same things I have heard. But I think the reason I relate to him so largely is because I also feel little out of place, as many of his monologues describe my exact feelings so often.”

“Out of place..? Why is that?” MC’s words left his mouth before he could consider them. “Err, if you don’t want to talk about it, it’s fine.”

“No, It’s nice to get things like this off of my chest occasionally.” He paused briefly. “I guess I’m just not used to someone understanding me quite like you do. Don’t get me wrong, It’s not bad at all. It’s just a bit... Odd to me. Sometimes I wonder if I deserve it.”

“Satan... Of course you do. Otherwise I wouldn’t have taken the time and indulged in the same things as you.” MC felt his heart throb. Of course Satan would look into the story from a metaphorical stance rather than literal, like he did. He was the one actually reading the pages, after all. That’s just the type of person he is. There’s no real beast in this story in his eyes. The prince was just Satan stuck in his own thoughts.

“But... Surely, this doesn’t mean that you thought I would have made the same choice as Amanthy, right?”

Satan hummed. “You’ve got me unraveled under your fingertips, MC. But you’d be mistaken... I did. But even if something like that ever happened, I don’t think I’d let you go quite as easily as the prince did.” His smile had hints of mischief in it. “You’re stuck with me.”

MC’s eyes widened a little. There was so much information to take in at once. “Well... Rest assured, then?”

“Agreed.” Satan nodded. “I’m just hoping you won’t get fed up with having to constantly calm me down before a wreck a building.” He laughed, but it seemed sad, in a way.

Ahh... So that’s just it. Satan was insecure about something that I don’t mind helping him with a thousand times over. MC found himself smiling. Demons were much more similar to humans than he thought.

“That’s a bit cute, Satan.”

“What’re you on about?”

MC reached over and pat the top of his head in the way he knows he enjoys it. “I wouldn’t let you go so easily, either. I’m not Amanthy, and you’re not the prince. You’re gonna have to try a little harder to get rid of me.”

Satan was frozen in the spot. He suddenly understood what Levi’s shows would describe when they said, “time seemed to slow, and nothing else mattered other than him.”

“I don’t think I’d ever dream of it...”

For the first time ever, he felt as if he was receiving his very own happy ending in his own novel.

#obey me x male reader #obey me satan

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the-ghost-king · 4 years ago

Note

you have any nico headcanons where he’s ftm trans but then realizes he’s also nonbinary (he/they/she)? just struggling with gender identity lately ig.

Alright, anon, I hope these help you some, my gender has been rather ~~~ lately, if that makes any sense... I would also like to remind everyone to bind safely and if you need resources on how to safely bind without a binder feel free to reach out to me:

Nico always just knew he was a boy, dresses were a no-go, couldn't stand to wear anything that wasn't undeniably boys clothes

In the beginning Maria thought maybe it was just a texture problem, but when Nico was three she came home to see him cutting all of his hair off she knew it was deeper

This is why they ended up moving to America eventually, Maria decided that if they started over then Nico would be able to be himself

Bianca named him on the way over, she liked the name because they were "winning" by leaving Italy

Nothing really signifigant happens in regards to Nico and his gender through this point, he is able to play freely with other boys, and he goes to school with them and such

The same in the Lotus Hotel, nothing signifigant

When he and Bianca go to Westover Nico is kind of scared the whole time, because he is worried about being "caught", changing for afterschool soccer games and having communal shower spaces at the school is difficult for him to feel comfortable

He usually tries to shower late at night or early in the morning when nobody is around, and that works out okay for him

His chest starts developing around this point and he freaks out, he has no clue how to hide it or how to deal with the new stress

He ends up trying to find Bianca one day, and they do all sorts of crazy stuff to see if they can help, eventually they figure out how to use a piece of cloth they sew together

When Nico ends up at camp alone without Bianca, there's the problem once again of communal showers and they're rarely ever empty

This is how he befriends the Stolls

At some point the pair of them notice Nico is weirdly panicky about the bathrooms so they go stand outside and keep people out when Nico's in there... It's honestly how they perfect their pranking techniques

When Nico runs away from camp upset, just the day before his binder had quit fitting and he had been upset by that because he had to make a binder again

Although his sister dying pushed all other thoughts out of his head, the emotions from previous events were still leftover

This is why he buys his jacket TM, because the layers help hide his chest more and the weight is comfortable

At some point during the Labrynth he ends up binding with ace bandages (AN: Don't do this)

He also starts his period at some time around this point and kind of freaks out "oh no" and it's not entirely that his period bothers him, but more so that he just doesn't know how he's supposed to hide it

He also realizes at some point around here that he likes Percy, which makes him feel odd and more freaked out

He's struggling because "boys are supposed to like girls" and also he's struggling because if most boys oon't have periods and he does... why doesn't his bother him?

Despite Nico himself being trans, he doesn't have the vocabulary to describe anything he's going through, and he doesn't know there's other trans people, or even queer people of any sort

So he sort of begins to question "am I really a boy?" but there's so much going on in the world and he's got so much to do, so he can't really devote much time to thinking about it

Everything continues about canonically until he's in the jar after Tartarus

During a fight with a monster or something he was knocked over, and combine this with the fact that Nico was binding with ace bandages, he definitly breaks a rib

Which makes breathing with little air a lot harder

Eventually he's saved and through ambrosia and nectar Nico manages to heal his ribs a little

He isn't able to bind that whole time though, so he does his best to keep away from The Seven

After Cupid outs him to Jason, Jason asks a few days later if he wants to talk about it, at first Nico is like "no go away I don't like you don't talk to me"

But eventually he opens up to Jason, because Jason was like "I'm sorry you had to do that I promise I won’t tell anyone and if you want to talk we can talk"

Anyhow eventually Nico kind of just breaks down and he's like "I don't know if I'm a boy or a girl? I think I used to be a girl, but now I am a boy and I don't really remember how it happened” or something similar

It takes Jason a moment but eventually he’s like “Oh you’re trans?”

And Nico;s like “heh? What’s that?

And so him and Jason talk, but Jason is only kind of well versed in this topic, so he only covers “basic” MtF and FtM transition because he doesn’t really know enough about other genders to feel comfortable explaining it

And Nico’s like “there’s people? Out there?? Like me??” and he’s just Happy Nico ™

Nico is like “and there are people like me who like boys?”

And Jason is like “Yeah totally!” but internally he’s like (I think so??)

Anyhow Nico feels a little better, but he doesn’t feel perfect, he’s still struggling a little bit internally to recognize that there’s other people like him and he’s not wrong for being him

Anyhow, Jason doesn’t know enough about this stuff to know binders exist, Jason just has a little bit of secondhand information from tv shows and from being from California… He promises he’ll look into various things more when he’s back at camp or has decent access to internet

On Nico’s quest with Reyna and Hedge he obvious evaporates Bryce, and Reyna and Hedge find out

They find out he’s gay as in canon, but they realize he’s trans when caking him in mud

Hedge just goes into dad mode about the situation and is like “son”, “sport”, “kiddo”, “my male child” etc

Reyna knows a little more about trans stuff than Jason, but she’s kind of in the same “ehhh I’m not really sure of a few things” boat, but she’s supportive and she’s like “I will beat anyone who gives you a dirty look up so fast”

Eventually they get to camp, and all that happens

Three days in the infirmary happens, and basically Nico has to tell Will for medical reasons that he’s trans because Nico needs stitches or something

Anyhow Will is like “Oh yeah cool me too, can you take your binder off now?”

And Nico is like “heh???”

Anyhow Will finds out Nico is binding with ace bandages and he’s like “no, don’t do that” and then he goes and finds a proper binder in Nico’s size which he gives to him after his stay is up

When they befriend one another they have a short conversation about gender and Will is discussing like gender theory 101 type stuff, and he’s like “wait why dont you know this- oh yeah you’re from the thirties- wait do you even know what nonbinary means??”

And Nico is just staring at Will like he has three heads for the whole conversation

So Will teaches Nico about gender and pronouns, and gender presentation vs gender identity, etc

And so Nico goes “wait so there are people like me who are also gay?”

And Will is like “I like boys and girls and everything in between so yeah”

And the whole enby thing doesn’t really stick with Nico at that point he’s just like “hmm interesting, so testosterone?”

It’s just not his biggest concern, he’s just happy to know there are in fact others like him, and no he’s not crazy for not being dysphoric over his period, and that’s normal too

And he’s just like “oh so that’s top dysphoria?”

And Will is like “yeah :/”

“Oh :/”

“Mhmm :/”

Anyhow they become like good friends and they start dating sort of on accident, like they’re too close to just argue they’re friends anymore, and at some point Will just shows Nico how to give him a T shot and it’s like chill, they’re chill

Anyhow one day someone is kind of confused by Nico’s gender so they use the word “they” and it makes Nico really happy for some reason, so he goes back to Will and he’s like “tell me about this whole nobinary thing again?”

And Will is like “yes absolutely”

And Nico goes “I think I might be nonbinary can we try new pronouns?”

And so they go through all sorts of new pronouns, and Nico decides he still likes he/him but he also likes they/them and xer/xem… They likes she/her too but Nico finds it too uncomfortable sometimes because it reminds him of dysphoria

Nico decides xyr uncomfortable with using she/her but they like using female gendered terms so he does that

(Listen, I know Will saying “this is my boyfriend” was a big moment but Will calling Nico his “wife” is 10/10)

Nico’s friends are all super supportive and they do their best to learn more about gender and such things in order to better support and care for Nico

They all use different pronouns for xem and some people alternate pronouns too, but Nico knows that takes more practice

But it’s just like good and positive in Nico’s life

And he begins to play with fashion a lot and xe finds out xyr love of skirts with tights and combat boots because it’s 10/10 the best fashion

Nico also loves their big jackets and they just looks so comfy all the time everyone is like “I want to be him” and Nico grows their hair out long again, and gets his ears pierced and xe’s just a nonbinary fashion icon

They are just so cool once they figure out gender more and Nico’s just happy to play around with xyr gender and he just enjoys it

Will doesn’t play around with gender so much, he’s 100% a binary trans guy but T helped make him comfortable enough in his femininity to wear skirts a little bit on the occasion (Will in a cat maid dress 10/10), but heels and skinny jeans for some reason are still big dysphoria triggers for him so he does have some limits on what he’ll wear

Will gets top surgery when he’s like 17 because Naomi is an extremely supportive parent

So that’s how Nico meets Will’s mom and she’s like “it’s so nice to finally meet you!” and Naomi just immediately falls in love with xem and Will is like “I know they’re amazing”

And Nico is just really supportive and they sort of role reverse and Nico plays nurse while Will recovers from top surgery and they has to like brush his teeth and stuff

The experience (despite the fact that Will had an easier recovery) assures Nico in how much he wants top surgery, and he’s sad he’ll have to wait another year until he’s 18 to get it done

Anyhow Hades finds out and agrees to sign the wavers, so once Will is healed up enough to wear he can put his own clothes on and stuff, Nico decides to go through with xyrs own top surgery then too

Reyna comes to help Will take care of Nico, and Jason does too

Originally Will was supposed to help more with Nico’s care but he wasn’t able to do as much as he thought so they had to phone their friends

Eventually they both heal up really well and they’re happy to be done with that

Nico spends time debating testosterone, while Will spends time debating lower surgery

During this time Nico starts art school and Will starts medical school

Meeting more nonbinary people makes Nico feel at home and he determines that xe doesn’t want to go on testosterone but it’s still a maybe in the future

Will however decides he does want lower surgery, so Will and Lou Ellen decide to get lower surgery together as friends so they can share in the pain (Lou Ellen is a trans woman as far as I’m concerned this is canon)

Nico takes some time off to do school from home so he can help the two of them, and Naomi comes to live with them as well for a bit

Will and Nico both finish school eventually and they decide to adopt trans kids to help them out more

Anyhow, I hope you enjoy all of that anon! I'm all ideaed (idea-ed??) out and so I hope this is at least similar to what you were looking for, and this is helpful with your dysphoria somewhat <3

#anon #Asks #nico di angelo #pjo #hoo #will solace #solangelo #i tried to keep it mostly Nico centric

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official-weasley · 3 years ago

Text

The Extraordinary Dragon (Part 6/6)

A fluffy story about Charlie training a dragon with a sad and mysterious past.

A/N: I am so happy with this story and since it's a story of a dragon, I never thought you guys would like to so much but I am glad that you enjoyed reading it. Thank you so much for everyone who liked it and comment on it! And thank you again to @am-i-space @madelineorionswan & @the-al-chemist for naming the dragons for me 💙

Warnings: Nothing but the cute conclusion to this story 💙 Word Count: 2,264

“Asterin, what did we talk about? You have teeth, you can chew.” I shook my head, sitting on the ground a few meters away from the Hebridean Black.

It’s been 3 months since I came back from Scotland.

When I read that letter, I needed to sit down and just breathe for a minute. Every second I spent with Asterin to that point rolled in front of my eyes and everything started to make sense.

The fact that she didn’t want to eat anything but chicken blood and brandy. That MacFusty’s were curious why she acted as if she didn’t have any teeth. Why she was so afraid and needed such a long time to get used to the new environment. The fact that she hurt me when I levitated a rock.

She was merely 5 months old when they found her. A dragon that young is supposed to be with its mother – barely even starting the blood and brandy diet. Their teeth are usually ready for solid food around 6-7 months and there is a law to never transport a dragon younger than 10 months if it can be avoided. They are either still too attached to their mother or they are with the other dragonlings.

A dragon that thinks it's 5 months old would still cuddle with its mother at night, eat the food she would provide, and play with its siblings. Being transported to the other side of Europe, meeting so many new people, and staying alone in a habitat suited for a 1-year-old dragon is not the right way to approach the situation.

Being in such a big enclosure with no one she knew around her was very stressful for Asterin. That’s why she ran into the forest the first night – she tried to hide.

And when we thought she attacked me, it was her trying to play. Since her mindset is stuck at 5-months-old she isn’t aware that she is 3 times the size she was back then and that trying to jump on me can be fatal and not being cute and playful.

The second I came back, we started to change her habitat. We made it dragonling friendly by putting in lots of things to chew on, some toys we use to play and train with the younger dragons, a big tire in which she can sleep and Matthew and Jim helped me made a wooden house that can house an adult Hebridean Black because baby dragons like to feel safe and have a feeling their mother is by their side, so having a house in which she can hide and feel snug seemed like the best idea.

We asked Marcus and John to come and stay with us for a week so that Asterin could be around as many people she knows to make her as comfortable as we possibly can.

After two days of sniffing around and starting to play with her toys, we could already see progress bigger than I’ve made in 2 months before we found out what happened to her. She became less fearful, she didn’t dig her claws in the ground anymore and she became playful.

She might be over a year old and is halfway to her adult size but she acts like Hephaestus – the Hebridean Black I got the chance to meet while I was staying with the MacFusty’s in Scotland. She jumps around, awkwardly tries to fly, and is fun to be around.

When I got back, I sat down with the healers that examined her. They told me that due to the damage the hit caused her, her brain will never properly develop. In her mind, Asterin will always be a 5-month-old dragon. They told me everything that is suited for a dragon her mind age and I spent the next 3 days coming up with a plan – how to train her, how to feed her, how to try and tame her, and what to do with her habitat.

We needed about a week to finish everything with the help of other dragonologists and both Marcus and John MacFusty. I asked two researchers to observe her from afar as she gets used to her newly decorated home and to see how she responds to things so they could report back to me to see if we would need to make any changes.

They were over the roof working with her because none of them ever had a case like this. None of us had, truth be told. Matthew still couldn’t believe that that can happen. Marcus and John felt bad that they missed such an important piece of evidence and on the last day of their stay went to Asterin and apologized for mistreating her.

I told them that it’s not their fault and that it was more than evident that they wanted to help her and put her in the right hands.

I have been with her every day since I came back and I can’t express how proud I am of her. She hasn’t hurt me, she hasn’t even roared in my face once since I started treating her like a dragonling. I couldn’t be happier that she was assigned to me and that I have a chance not only to work with a Hebridean Black but to work with such a special one.

She might have a sad past but since she is growing every day, is as healthy as a dragon her age can be and she is showing progress every day, I dare to say she is going to be just fine with us.

After the researchers recorded her behavior and saw that she is doing okay and as the healers gave the green light that everything else is fine, I started working with her. Of course, I am taking a completely different approach than I did before and right now I am trying to teach her how to eat anything other than the liquids we have been giving her so far.

It’s not that we can’t provide that much chicken blood and brandy for her but even though her brain doesn’t see how big she is getting, her body needs solid food to grow into a big healthy dragon. Every day after work, I go to the infirmary where I work with a healer and a researcher and we are trying our best to come up with a plan on how we could trick someone who thinks it's 5 months old to eat a steak.

14 days ago we tried mincing the meat and putting it in her liquids. Asterin was hesitant because of the smell at first but the second day she swallowed it. We did that for a week slowly adding more meat and less blood and brandy. Last week, we started giving her pieces of deer meat that are small enough for her to swallow whole since a 5-month-old dragon isn’t supposed to know how to use its teeth fully yet.

Today is the first day that I tried and gave her a proper steak. The researchers thought it would be good if she gets used to the taste and texture of the food she is supposed to eat. I have been trying for two hours and the best I got was her playing with the steak.

“Asterin, don’t play with your food. It’s not a toy. You’re supposed to eat it.” I put my hands in front of my face, expecting a steak thrown my way any second now.

She looked up at me as I spoke, the steak that was half in her mouth now fell to the ground. I couldn’t help but chuckle, she was adorable.

“What’s it going to be? Are you going to eat it or should I?” I smirked.

Saying that gave me an idea.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes, Asterin.” I got up and waved at her as I did every time I left her enclosure to let her know we will see each other again.

I went to the Sanctuary kitchen and asked one of the cooks to make me a steak. Perhaps if she would see me eat it and chew on it, she might copy my behavior. That is how she learned how to roll over and jump in the air. The latter wasn’t such a good idea because now she likes to jump all the time and sometimes shakes the ground so much that I fall backward.

I thanked the cook that made the steak for me and hurried back to Asterin’s habitat.

“I’m back. Did you miss me?” I smiled.

Asterin was sitting on the ground, her tail playfully moving around, her head tilted in curiosity about what I brought her.

“This isn’t for you. It’s lunch for me. Now let me show you how to eat a steak.” I sat back down to where I was before I left and took the steak from the plate with my hand. “And remember, Asterin, you have teeth, you can chew just like I can.”

I bit into the steak as hard as I could and tore away a piece.

“See…not…that…hard,” I said while chewing. “Now you try.” I pointed at her raw piece of meat with my steak.

Asterin stared at me for a few seconds more before looking down at her steak. She looked back up at me as I took another bite and back down. She lowered her head and sniffed the steak then did the whole routine 2 more times.

“It’s delicious, Asterin. Come on, eat with me.” I encouraged her.

If she could narrow her eyes, she would. I could see her brain being hard at work trying to figure out what she is supposed to do but I understood that she needed time because nobody sane would give a 5-month-old dragon a steak of that size.

Much to my surprise, Asterin picked the steak up with her front teeth and lifted her head abruptly. I thought the steak was going to fly out of the enclosure but she held on to it.

“That’s it. Good girl, Asterin! Now put it in your mouth and chew.” I took another bite of my meal and slowly and exaggeratedly chewed to show her how it’s done.

Asterin slowly put the entire steak inside her mouth and tried chewing on it. She shook her head as if she got confused about what was going on and let the meat fall from her mouth to the ground.

“Okay, that wasn’t bad. You did great! Now repeat the gesture. Pick it up again, Asterin.” I put my plate down and clapped a few times to let her know she is making progress.

Asterin listened to me and picked up the steak again. She threw it on the ground a few more times but every time she chewed a little longer.

After 5 tries she didn’t stop chewing on the steak and suddenly I heard a swallowing sound.

“Did you…did you just eat the steak?” I asked astonished. It’s not like I didn’t believe that she could do it but I didn’t dare to think that she was going to progress so quickly.

“You did it, Asterin!” I stood up carefully not to startle her too much even though I wanted to burst from excitement and jump around.

“I don’t even know where to begin to tell you how proud I am of you!” I walked toward her not even caring if she does something to me. I wanted to show her that what she just accomplished is a big deal and that the behavior is very much desired and encouraged.

“If you continue to eat like this, you will be able to fully transition to deer meat and admit it, it was more delicious than chicken blood and brandy.” I laughed and with a bowed head approached her.

I was now so close that if I would extend my hand I would be able to pat her. Without thinking twice about it, I offered her my hand so she could sniff it and let her know that I mean no harm. She did so immediately and huffed.

“I know. My hand smells like cooked meat which doesn’t smell as delicious to you as to me.” I giggled.

I took a deep breath knowing that Matthew would kill me if he saw me stand so close to Asterin – making progress or not – and touched her rough skin and rubbed a few circles on it.

“You ate your first steak, Asterin. I am so proud. The progress we have made in the past few weeks is admirable.” I whispered to her.

She lowered her head and what I think she wanted to do was rub her head against my side but because she is so big and so much heavier than me she pushed me to the ground.

I started laughing when I saw her confused expression. I know she didn’t expect me to fall to the ground and probably thinks that I am the weakest human not being able to handle her friendly gesture.

I got up, dusted myself, and approached her again.

“The next thing we work on is to make you realize how big you are.” I chuckled.

Asterin replied with a jump in the air and hurried to get one of her balls, indicating she wants to play.

“You want to catch the ball? You got it!” I clapped my hands together and ran after her, feeling like the luckiest dragonologist in the world.

#charlie weasley #charlie weasley harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #the weasleys #dragon boy #charles weasley #hebridean black #dragons #a dragon story #charie weasley hphm #dragonologist

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acyclops · 3 years ago

Text

I can’t find where/when I ever talked about Maddie but I’m just tired of any discourse that claims one is a victim and the other isn’t, or discourse that turns either one of them into a villain. They’re both victims in their own ways.

Maddie was a victim the very second Sinister created her for the only purpose to fall in love with Scott and give him a kid. She was supposed to be a tool and nothing but a tool in one of Sinister’s schemes and she wasn’t even allowed to have a personality of her own because either she couldn’t remember her past or the things she did have were memories from Jean. Her anger towards Scott is valid because she fell in love with him (both because it was meant to happen, but also because this love perhaps stepped beyond what Sinister could be in control of because it takes a special kind of stupid to create a human being with thoughts and a consciousness to not expect them to develop desires, dreams and goals for their own) and she got these hopes and dreams of getting a family with a husband and their child and a white-picket-fence. But she had to see her lover prioritize his old life over her still, after she compromised so much of her own life for him. Maddie feels like she’s been treated unfairly by Scott and she feels like she’s doing everything in the marriage to keep it together and make it work at least a little bit. Her feelings are valid, and her anger doesn’t make her a villain. It’s not (only) her feelings of anger with Scott that turned her into the Goblin Queen, it’s the goblins that did. They came to Maddie in a moment of utter weakness and helplessness when she, for once, had absolutely no one (not even the X-Men who had taken her under their wing at that time) to watch over her. They came to her after some dream/manipulated image of Scott stealing her face and putting it onto a faceless Jean. And they took her at her most vulnerable and turned her into this...possessed persona that brought out all her rage and anger and grief and amplified it severely.

Scott was a victim of Sinister, because he wasn’t aware at that time, Maddie was sent to Scott as a part of one of Sinister’s schemes and he has been all over Scott’s life since the very early years. He is a victim of his own feelings, emotions and the poor ways he deals with them or how he rather flees from them instead of acknowledging them. He was still grieving for Jean, when Maddie came into his life. He was confused, and at first he could never tell if he fell for Maddie because of her resemblances to Jean or if he loved Maddie for Maddie. But Scott is someone who never wears his feelings on his sleeve and when he feels something (certainly something like love), he feels it intensely and genuinely. Just because he doesn’t wear his feelings on his sleeve and doesn’t voice them or his thoughts out loud all the time doesn’t mean that he doesn’t actually feel them. He felt love for Maddie, but he never fell out of love with Jean, just like he didn’t fall out of love with Maddie when Jean came back. Scott has been the victim of his own love and how strong he felt it for either woman. He didn’t cheat on Maddie with Jean, because when Jean returned he was incredibly conflicted about what he’s supposed to do next. He wanted to go back to Maddie and his son, but by the time he got around to do so...they were gone! Scott married Maddie likely because he was afraid of losing someone he loves yet again, because in a sense...marriage might just last beyond death (at least through sickness and through health, and on good times as well as the bad, etc.) She is the second woman in his life he ever felt this strongly for, and she might as well be the first (and only, he thought at that time) to give him some kind of forever — something good.

The more I think about it, the more I just feel like Maddie was done injustice by poor writing. They put her on the X-Men team, made her feel like the human piece of empathy on the team while giving her a good role within the team as a tech-savvy pilot only to later on claim that she has been manipulating the X-Men all along to regard X-Factor as an evil organization under the leadership of her lover whom she suddenly is supposed to hate. It isn’t until she is contacted by the goblins that her behavior begins to take a shift. And the manipulation is never really hinted at iirc until her encounter with Jean during Inferno. I’ve always been confused and wondered where that came from all of a sudden... It quite felt like one of the writers pulled that idea from their ass and everyone on the board just went with it?

Sure Scott hasn’t been the best father and husband through all of it, but the X-Men are quite literally his life. Other than them, he has only ever known abuse and hurt and rejection. They are his family and they eventually gave him reason to live. They are his responsibility and he would go through fire for them. He feels like they need him as much as he needs them. To give all of that up from one day to the other would be a drastic change. Fighting battles and protecting human- and mutantkind alike has been the only thing he’s known for so long. It’s his lifestyle. Even if he compromised for his family, it’s a lifestyle you can’t really leave behind at the X-Mansion with your combat boots and visor. Scott Summers lives a soldier’s life. Staying in Alaska with his family and not looking back at the X-Men would just drive Scott crazy. She could come along to live at the X-Mansion to be with Scott more often, but Maddie’s preference was with Alaska and had to take her husband’s regular absences with it eventually. They both made mistakes in their relationship and marriage, and weren’t given proper or enough time and opportunities to find the best middle ground — to make things work and grow together. Their relationship and marriage felt rushed (and iirc it only lasted for a year).

I’m just so tired of people putting the villain stamp on Maddie or Scott, while the real villain behind it all has been Sinister (and perhaps the goblins) all along. Maddie was a pawn in his game to fuck around with the Summers gene-pool once again and the whole family paid a hefty price for it.

#txt #long post #madelyne pryor #inferno

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amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines · 4 years ago

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FP//you are summer, to my winter heart

Request: if requests are open can i request a fp/reader where you show up once Gladys leaves cause he asks you to help take care of jughead and you two end up together?

hey! i decided to do this as a headcanon because i thought it would be easier to show the development. i hope you still like it!! title is from a poet called gemma troy! i liked it (even though winter is the superior season)

- ‘she’s gone’

- It was the first words you heard when you walked through the front door.

- But you didn’t really need to be told

- You could just tell

- You’ve been in and out of the Jones household countless of times

- And every time you’ve walked in before...its been loud

- On good days when Jughead and Jellybean are playing

- Or bad days when Gladys has called you over to talk some sense into FP.

- You and Fred usually take it in turns to go over

- Either to talk to FP or to take the kids out for a few hours

- But on the 24th of February 2009, for the first time ever, the trailer was silent.

- You looked around, noticing the lack of kids toys, shoes and just general mess

- The lights were off, the curtains drawn and FP leaned against the kitchen counter, barely able to stand up properly.

- As soon as you saw him your heart dropped

- Your arms were around him instantly and he just let go

- His fingers gripping your jacket so tightly you thought he was going to rip a hole in it

- And he just cried

- He cried for what seemed like hours and you just stood there and held him

- Because what else where you supposed to do?

- He was your best friend

- Even if he did have his flaws

- Even if he did scream and shout for no reason

- Or pushed people away when he was too drunk to realize what he was doing

- You were always going to be there for him

- Because who else would be?

- Especially now

- When Jughead emerged from his bedroom, he smiled as soon as he saw you

- And you untangled yourself from FP

- ‘hey jug’ You’d said as cheerily as you could and he sent you a toothy grin back

- ‘y/n, what are you doing here?’

- ‘i came over to hang out with you’

- ‘can we go to the park’

- ‘of course we can. but you need your breakfast first...so what do you want?’

- ‘...pancakes?’ He’d asked nervously and you’d smiled and ruffled his hair

- ‘sure. why don’t you go watch some tv’

- He’d ran off before you even had the chance to finish your sentence

- And the action made you smile a little.

- It seemed he hadn’t noticed yet

- His family had fallen apart and he was worried about missing the Ninja Turtles

- Or if he had noticed it, it hadn’t sunk it properly

- ‘have you told him?’ You’d whispered to FP who just looked at the floor. ‘so no?’

- ‘no.’

- ‘okay.’ You nodded. ‘we’ll tell him together. later on.’

- ‘you don’t have to.’ He’d argued but you just sent him a look

- He’d grown used to that look, and by now he knew not to argue with it.

- ‘thank you’ The sincerity in his voice made you smile softly at him

- ‘but you have to do something for me’

- ‘what?’

- ‘sort your life out’

- And he did

- It took him a while

- And there were a few bumps mountains in the road

- But he eventually did it

- Nothing is ever as easy as they say though

- It was difficult at first

- What isn’t difficult about raising an 8 year old that isn’t yours

- And keeping one of your best friends sober after his wife left and took their daughter with her

- There was a lot of tears, shouting and slamming of doors

- And that was just from FP

- ‘you’re not my mom’ - jughead jones every single time he saw you for a week

- ‘we don’t need your fucking help y/n’ - fp jones every single time he saw you for a week

- But eventually you got the hang of things

- A routine was formed

- You’d drop Jughead off at school before going to work

- FP would pick him up on the way home

- Dinner would be timed perfectly for you coming home

- You’d help Jughead with his homework, always finding a way to make it fun

- You’d spend your evening watching movies either at home or at the drive in

- Or you’d spend hours arguing about what to watch

- Weekends would be spent at Pop’s, or the park or at the river

- And sometimes you’d drive to the beach and have a picnic

- Jughead would always insist that you had to tell him a story before sleep

- ‘because you do the best voices y/n’

- Sometimes you’d read them from books

- Other times they were made up (mostly)

- And FP would always stop outside of the room to listen in for a few minutes

- And when Jughead said he didn’t need a story anymore he was able to quickly put him to bed while you cried on the sofa

- He’d hugged you until the two of you fell asleep

- Only woken up by Jughead asking what was for breakfast

- Some stories he’d recognize from the years before Jughead and Jellybean were born

- They’d be from summers spent together going on adventures despite being in your twenties and thirties

- Others would have just elements of truth in them

- Like when you’d found a suitcase by the river

- But you managed to leave out the fact that it was empty apart from the blood splatter

- You replaced the blood with a portal to another world

- And all of them you made sound magic

- To both Jughead and FP

- And he’d be left wondering what he would ever do without you

- So he would come up with a plan to show just how much they appreciate you

- And so the 7th November was officially made Y/n’s day

- It was kind of like mothers day

- But not

- Jughead would make a Y/n’s day card

- FP would make breakfast for you and then you got to chose what to do for the rest of the day

- You’d also always get a present

- One made by Jughead and another bought by FP

- It was usually always small, but you loved it anyway

- And even after almost ten years, Jughead always still got you a card and FP always bought you a present.

- You’d practically moved in with them within the first year of it all happening

- Sleeping on the pull out sofa in the living room

- It wasn’t that bad after a while

- Although you will always blame it for the permanent sore back you have now

- And eventually everything felt semi-normal

- You were like a little family

- You’d go to parties of friends together

- And you and FP would rarely be seen apart

- Always sat or stood together, talking or laughing at something

- Sometimes and arm would be slung around your shoulder or waist

- New friends or neighbours of the trailer park assumed you to be a proper family

- Assumptions would always be met by awkward laughs and quick mutters of ‘we’re not a couple’

- Over time though you started to notice a change in the way they made you feel

- At first it was sort of funny and a little awkward

- But the more it happened the more you felt your chest tighten when you or FP denied it

- Until you found yourself not denying it, letting FP laugh it off every time

- But despite that small detail

- You worked well together

- Everything seemed to be going well

- Until it happened

- Until FP spiraled and you were left to pick up the pieces

- Looking after a now 15 years old Jughead while his father was in prison and his mom and sister were god knows where.

- Jughead was lost and you could tell

- What 15 year old wouldn’t be

- So you made sure he knew you weren’t going anywhere

- You were always there when he woke up in the morning or came home from school

- You listened when he talked

- Whether it was about his novel or his friends

- And you reassured him his dad would be okay

- Even if he had been arrested for murder

- You’re still there for FP too

- Visiting as often as possible

- Even if you do give him the look every time you see him

- But you promise to help him

- And when he eventually gets out

- Your the first one to hug him

- Wrapping him up in a giant hug that makes both of you feel like you’re home

- Even more so when he hugs you back just as tightly

- Jughead coughs awkwardly and you pull apart

- You shuffle away from him

- Letting them have their own moment before taking them both to Pop’s

- Again it took a while

- But you got your routine back

- And everything went back to normal

- As normal as you can be when you live in Riverdale

- You supported Jughead when he wanted to join the serpents

- And you helped FP get his job so he could support the three of you

- Before his arrest there had been talk of you moving out

- Its not like Jughead needed you anymore

- Not really

- And FP was doing great

- But now, it looks like you were stuck sleeping in the living room still

- Jughead needed stability

- And you and FP needed each other

- It was never said out loud

- Never discussed

- Never so much as briefly mentioned

- But everyone knew the two of you needed each other

- The thought of moving out may have made your back happy

- But that was the only part of you that wanted to

- The rest of you didn’t know what you’d do without him

- And FP was absolutely terrified of the idea of not seeing you every day

- It made his chest tight and his head hurt

- So you stayed

- Until she came back

- Jughead went looking for his mom and sister

- Something you don’t blame him for

- You’d probably do the exact same thing

- But whenever Gladys is around

- There’s trouble

- She may be your friend but it doesn’t mean she doesn’t bring chaos wherever she goes

- Yes, she might have had her reasons to leave

- You don’t blame her for that

- What you do blame her is leaving one child while taking the other

- ‘well isn’t this cozy’

- The familiar voice makes you jump and you watch as FP stands up, eyes wide as he stares at his daughter and estranged wife

- Jughead is also just as shocked, hugging Jellybean tightly

- The ache in your chest returns, and this time no matter how hard you try it stays

- It stays all through the night

- And its still there by morning

- It follows you around wherever you go

- It seems no matter where you are in Riverdale

- Gladys and FP are there

- They both make your heart ache

- But both of them for different reasons

- And its not until you’re lying in bed

- Two weeks after Gladys turned up and essentially kicked you out

- Leaving you to quickly find a trailer to rent

- That you realize whats happened

- You’re in love

- But there’s nothing happy about it

- There’s no magic, sweetness or joy to it

- Its all yearning looks and gloomy thoughts

- Watching a family you used to be apart of from the outside

- She does what you used to

- She should, she is their mom and his wife

- But she’s missed 7 years of their lives

- Seven years that you’ve been there

- You held together, looked after and cleaned up the mess that she left behind

- And the worst thing is

- You know you’ll do exactly the same when she inventively leaves again

- You tried telling FP

- ‘you and gladys together does not work’

- But he just brushed it off

- Happy that his family was back together

- But he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was missing

- Like when a photograph has been folded over

- He knows something’s not right

- He just can’t figure out what it is

- He can

- He knows exactly whats missing

- Its you

- But what’s he supposed to do?

- He can’t bring you back

- Gladys and Jellybean have come back

- They’re happy

- Or at least thats what they’re trying to be

- But there’s a massive crack down the middle of this family

- And there’s not enough glue to fix it

- Its just a matter of waiting

- Waiting for the inevitable to happen

- No matter how much he wills it not to

- Jughead and Jellybean are happy

- Gladys is happy

- But he isn’t so sure its because of him

- And to an extent he’s happy too

- He has his kids back

- He’s got a great job

- And eventually a house

- Even if it is the Coopers

- But he can see you’re unhappy

- And he hates that

- He only ever wants to see you smile

- Its one of his favourite things

- Always has been now he thinks about it

- But he saw you at his party

- You were smiling

- But it wasn’t real

- And every time you see each other you send each other smiles

- But they never reach your eyes.

- Riverdale being Riverdale

- Crazy things always happen

- You hear of a Griffins and Gargoyles being played again

- And remember when you would play

- Remember what happened to your friends

- And to The Midnight Club

- FP telling you all about it one night after Jughead had gone to bed

- Those nights seem so far away

- You suppose they are really

- You make sure to tell Jughead to stay away from it

- Not wanting him to have to go through anything that you or his parents did.

- And then there’s the robbery at Pop’s

- And suddenly FP’s in hospital and you find yourself giving him the look when you visit him

- He smiles

- Despite the trouble and pain he’s in

- Because you being here eases both of those things

- It doesn’t last long though

- FP is arrested and you’re sent home

- Its not until a few days later do you find yourself walking into the Jones’ residence again

- ‘she’s gone’ FP says, sat at the dining table with his head in his hands

- ‘i know’ You say, sitting beside him and grabbing his hand.

- ‘have you come to say i told you so?’ He looks at you sadly and you just shake.

- ‘no. i’m here to help.’

- ‘thank you.’

- ‘what are friends for?’

- The word stings, but it needs to be said

- No matter how you feel about him

- You’re still his friend

- So you do what you do best

- You fix

- And after a while you have a routine again

- It takes a while

- But eventually everyone gets used to each other

- And its normal-ish

- You still listen to Jughead talk about his novel

- You’re the only person he really talks about it with

- And you help Jellybean with her homework

- You take her shopping at the weekend

- And listen to her when she tells you about whatever drama is going on in her class

- You and FP take it in turns to cook dinner

- The other one always washes up

- You still feel the ache in your chest every so often

- But it’s not as strong

- Because you see each other every day

- You’re back together

- Where you should be

- Even if it is platonic

- Well, up until he kisses you before you go home

- He walks you to the front door as usual

- Offering you a lift which you always politely decline

- And just as you’re about to leave

- He grabs your arm gently, spinning you around and kissing you softly

- It takes you by surprise

- Your eyes widen at first and he panics, starting to pull away

- But when you fingers grip his arms

- The dark fabric bunching together as you pull him closer

- And you kiss him back

- A lot more force that he had

- He knows he hasn’t messed up

- He knows he made the first right decision in about 7 years

- Because when your arms wrap around him he knows he’s home

#fp #fp imagine #fp x reader #fp x you #fp jones #fp jones imagine #fp jones x reader #fp jones x y/n #riverdale #riverdale imagine

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whump-town · 4 years ago

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It’s A Wonderful Life

Inspired by the only Christmas movie that I like and last night’s episode of Prodigal Son

A dangerous car wreck puts Hotch in tricky situation-- to stay or to go?

Part One of Three (and don’t worry, I already wrote part two and am editing part three so it’s done I’m just not posting it all in one go-- so you’ll actually get the whole fic)

Feat: autistic Reid and Jack (because I always thought that was what made the doctor’s appointment Hotch missed so important)

Aaron Hotchner wakes to the sound of his bedroom door slowly groaning, the old hinge creaking as it’s opened. If he hadn’t heard the faint, pattering footsteps beforehand, he might be fearful of what kind of intruders were trying to make their way into his home. However, before he can even roll to the edge of the mattress and offer his little burglar a hand up he’s being whacked in the face by a stuffed bear. Only able to grunt a complaint as a little fist grip tightly onto his pajama bottoms and-- “Hey, buddy.”

Jack looks nearly surprised to find his father staring back at him.

“You’re up early.”

Jack smiles, shyly leaning forward until he’s half laid across Hotch’s chest and half-buried down in the comforter. Placing one hand on Jack’s back, he leans up to see his alarm-clock. They’ve still got thirty minutes before the alarm goes off and the day must go on. Regardless, he sinks back into the pillows under him. Even if there’s no way he can go back to sleep, he can enjoy some pre-school-sized cuddles.

Thirty minutes is up too fast.

Carrying a squirming, unhappy five-year-old against his side he yawns and makes his way to the kitchen. “Oatmeal?” he asks, even though he knows the answer. Oatmeal is the only thing that Jack will eat. It’s a… comfort food. The therapist, not the family one they go to but the one that specializes in autism, said that oatmeal was one of Jack’s comfort foods.

There was a bit of a debate about if Hotch should try to introduce additional foods with the oatmeal and now they’re working by trial. Oatmeal doesn’t meet too many dietary needs and having Jack fall underweight and little for his age was just another blow to Hotch. He understands that he can’t take these things personally-- Jack being nonverbal isn’t anyone’s fault. Jack being autistic is not some cosmic payback. It’s just a thing. Something that the two of them are working with.

It was just so much easier with Haley here too.

He’s a little cranky now but today is a good morning and Hotch isn’t going to ruin it by trying to encourage Jack into eating apples. He’ll cut up a few pieces of banana for Jack to either eat or ignore and be content when Jack eats his oatmeal and finishes his orange juice and that’s plenty. That’s good.

“Ugh.” This is the part Hotch struggles with. Speaking. For the language center of Jack’s brain to develop properly, Hotch has to speak more than he does. Silence is far more natural for him and he’d like to think the same for Jack. Speaking all the time, saying everything is tiring and he hates it. The thing is, he and Jack work exceptionally well sans spoken words. Jack’s ability to communicate is exceptional, Hotch has to work for it, but he’s five and Hotch doesn’t know any five-year-olds that are flawless at communication.

“Ah, thank you,” he signs the words too. His sign language isn’t actually that good but, again, they make it work. “Can you go to the chart and--” Hotch smiles, Jack already running over to the poster on his wall. Smiling as he pulls the velcro pieces off and puts the little drawing of a toothbrush and hairbrush over to the done side. “Thank you, Jack. You’re doing so good this morning. How about socks and shoes now?”

Jack gets to pick his socks out.

Reid’s idea.

Hotch had been very hesitant to ask Reid for any help. To acknowledge the one thing that they never talk about. In the face of everything that happened with Foyet and then with Haley he’d been left with no other choices. Strangely enough, Reid is the only person that has never made Hotch feel like an awful father for not knowing what to do.

Jack… kind of hates Reid, though.

“Oh, nice!” Reid says that Hotch should encourage the things that Jack likes. So, every morning he works a little harder to be happy when Jack picks out two completely different socks and turns around to search for his approval. “Do you know what color this one is?” Hotch asks.

Jack sits down on the floor, wiggling contently as he waits for Hotch to slip his socks on.

“Jack,” Hotch encourages, jostling Jack’s thigh to get his attention. “What color is it?” He holds the sock patently in his palm watching Jack get momentarily agitated. He raises his hand, ready to sign the word himself but Jack beats him to it. Clicking his tongue as he smiles and pats his lip with his middle finger.

The sign calls for the signer to form the letter “p” and then to tap or flick their middle finger against their lip but who cares about that?

“Good job!” Hotch praises and it’s so easy to be happy. Jack’s so fucking smart and he’s already so excited to tell someone. Jessica or Dave or whoever he sees first. “Pink! Your sock is pink!” The other has dinosaurs on it, it’s a favorite and Hotch finds himself washing it and its pair at least twice a week. He thinks it might have more to do with the soft yellow coloring of the sock.

Jack’s favorite color is yellow.

“You wanna go play with your rocks?” Hotch asks, slipping his hands under Jack’s arms and righting him on his feet. “I’m going to go get dressed, okay?” He waits, making sure Jack is going to go drag his tubs of rocks out before going off on his way. He can worry about limiting the number of rocks Jack takes with them later.

It’s Wednesday which means that he has to take Jack to the office for two hours until his program opens for the day. Technically, he should be in Kindergarten but Garcia found this program for him. He and Reid had gone to scope the place out. Hotch was way in over his head back then (and still is but then he’d been trying to cope with Haley’s death and getting Jack into school).

Though most of the things that the program had to offer were things he couldn’t understand Reid has taken it in. Explaining every little detail until Hotch understood not only the style of learning they were enforcing but why Jack had loved their foam furniture so much.

Hotch doesn’t know how he would have gotten through the last few years without the team.

With everything that happened with Foyet, he’s surprised that they can stand him at all. Maybe they shouldn’t. Their ability and drive to stay no matter what he did is commendable and he’s lucky to have a group of people that care about him but he has to consider why.

Why did they stay?

Morgan got a promotion, recently. With a short, strongly worded letter Morgan could have control of the whole department and he should have it. No one would think twice about snatching it up out of his hands.

He watched Reid struggle with addiction. Has hidden and protected Reid’s autism diagnoses from being filed on his record. His right hand, the woman he trusts more than any other agent, is a chronic insubordinate mess. For whom he has stepped on many toes. Despite his retirement and the push to fill the position in other ways, Hotch asked Rossi to come out of retirement. No one liked that idea but he did it anyway. There’s his decision to bring Garcia on despite her record, which had caused a lot of trouble.

JJ-- Well, she’s perfect so she’s probably the one they can’t use against him.

But how many times had Haley called JJ? Before the divorce and after. Even if they can’t use JJ against him, she probably hates him.

His life is a good and proper mess.

And now he has to go convince his son not to bring two pockets full of rocks with them.

He has to hike his dress pants up to squat down. If he brings himself down to Jack’s level it’s supposed to be more efficient for communication. That’s understandable. He’s certainly not going to stand over Jack. Jack’s hardly three feet tall, it can be a little overwhelming. Not to mention that’s over three feet of distance between them.

“Buddy,” he holds Jack’s hands in his own. “Buddy, you can take two.”

Two. Jack can count. Two just doesn’t sound like a bargain.

“Four,” Hotch caves. “Two for each pocket.”

Okay, he can live with that.

Jack hates his car seat but holding two rocks in each hand seems to soothe him enough to allow Hotch the chance to strap him into his seat. That and his sketchers hitting the seat’s bottom lights the whole car up in flashing blues and yellows.

Hotch glances back at him a few times. Sometimes Jack tries to put the rocks in his mouth. He’s never swallowed one, he just likes the cold way the rock feels in his mouth but if he does that while Hotch is driving it’s easy to understand how that might not end well.

He gets to an intersection in town, frustrated when he catches the redlight. “There’s no way this stoplight hasn’t ruined someone’s day before,” Hotch mumbles to himself. The thing gets stuck on red for an absurd amount of time. The lights are regulated, a fact Reid reminds him of all the time, but this one will stay on red for longer than two minutes. By the fourth minute, all patience is thrown out the window.

When the light turns green he glances back at Jack through the mirror, smirking. He looks back to the road still smiling. Jack is content, clicking his tongue, and watching the world pass by through his window. It’s like he can breathe-- he can stop for just this moment and know he’s doing something right.

He doesn’t see the other car racing across the intersection, blind with rage. There’s the horrible ripping of metal and the hiss of smoke and then nothing.

Turns out he was right.

That stoplight is going to ruin someone’s day.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #jack hotchner #whump #hurt hotch #tw car accident #spencer reid

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