#i should probably write myself some hurt comfort maybe one day

[rapidhighway]

i love hurt/comfort but i fucking hate hurt/comfort so bad stop doing the hurt comfort template i beg of you i am begging please pause for ten seconds and think if he would actually say that and do that i promise you can write satisfying hurt/comfort and have everyone be in character and not "character A" and "character B" template screenshot you found on pinterest

[erule]

Twice

Pairing: Peter Parker x Fem!Stark!reader

Summary: you and Peter have been rivals for a lot of time, until one day everything changes. But it’s the same old story: you love him, he loves you, then you die and he doesn’t have the chance confess his endless love for you. Or is it?

Warnings: spoilers from Avengers: Endgame, reader is Tony’s daughter, Peter and reader are 18+ here, fluff, a lot of angst, enemies to friends to lovers, happy ending though

Word count: 2084

A/N: Hi! I just wanted to write something after a long time. Hope you like it. Let me know what you think in the comments, if you want 

Taglist: @imawhoreforyou, @blankspaceblankday, @sarahcameronswife, @belovedholland.

Main Materlist: here.

Twice.

I believe that things in life happen twice, like getting a job offer or falling in love. For instance, I fell in love twice. The first one was in high school, with my classmate, but he didn’t want me. The second one was with Peter, but he didn’t want me either. I guess that some things never change. Sometimes, if you’re very lucky, things can also happen thrice, but it’s rare that some trains pass in front of you. This kind of fortune never really occurred to me, that’s why I still think that things in life happen twice. When you don’t understand the occasion, it comes along again for you to see it and finally take it. Maybe that’s why I died twice.

But let’s go back to the beginning, shall we?

Did it never happen to you to die in a metaphorical way? Like when you feel a pain in your heart that doesn’t go away, a deaf heavy brick onto your chest. So you try to breathe, but every rib hurts when you try to do so. Well, this happened to me when Peter told me that he kissed MJ. I was his best friend, I should have been happy for him, but I couldn’t. The reason is obvious: I was in love with him. Common, right? You’re probably thinking that. Our friendship didn’t begin like that, though. We were rivals at first, even enemies sometimes, because my dad preferred to work with him and not with me. I mean, I had Morgan, my younger sister, but it wasn’t enough for me. I needed him to actually see me. Now I regret it. Anyway, before we grew closer, I couldn’t stand Peter and he couldn’t stand me. We used to bicker all the time, until one night. One single night. 

“Hi”, I said.

It changed my entire life.

“Hey”.

“What’s up?”

“I’m just hungry”, he replied, while looking into the fridge.

“Wanna know a secret?” I asked him. He turned in order to look at me. There was a spark of genuine curiosity in his gaze, but I was staring at his half smile on his face, a ghost of something that he didn’t use with me.

“Shoot”.

“The best food is not in the kitchen,” I replied. “It’s actually in my room”.

He grinned at me.

“Wow Y/N, I didn’t know you were this naughty. I thought you hated me. Turns out you just wanted something from me”.

I laughed out loud.

“You’re mistaken, Spidey. I just wanted to be kind, but turns out you’re a jerk. Goodnight, I’m gonna eat my marshmallows alone”.

“Wait, are you for real? True marshmallows? I’m coming,” he said and I smiled at him, truly happy. I didn’t have many friends at school, so I was glad to finally have somebody to hang out with, even if it was my rival.

Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t hate Peter, I just wanted my dad’s love, that’s all. Besides, it was impossible to hate Peter: he was the light when everybody came into the room. He made everybody comfortable and he reassured who needed a kind word. I admired him. Today I wouldn’t have treated him like that.

“I actually have one request,” I said, when he sat on my bed, while looking around.

“I knew it”.

“Spidey-sense?”

“No, I just know you, I guess,” he said and I felt a knot in my stomach. “Anyway, anything for you. I’m so hungry!”

“What if I’d ask you something terrible?” I asked him, while giving him some marshmallows on a plate. “What if you were wrong?” 

Maybe I wasn’t talking about him, but about myself. I was so concerned not to be Tony Stark’s perfect daughter, that somehow I acted like that just so people could be right about me. Maybe I was just worried to be an evil person.

But he shrugged. Peter ate a marshmallow, looked straight into my eyes and said: “You’re not what you think you are, Y/N. Trust me, I would know”.

“Because you know me?”

“No, because of my Spidey-sense, you silly little girl,” he said and I chuckled. Then, his face became so serious it almost scared me. “You know, Ned warned me about you once”.

“Oh, really? Why?” I asked, while sitting next to him.

“He said that you’re trouble”.

“Trouble?”

“Yeah, like staring directly at the Sun. It’s kinda dope, though. You’re more like the Moon, but still. The Moon is so pretty and strong”.

“Strong? Why?”

“Yeah, because it takes courage to stay in the sky without anybody in the dark”.

“Oh, well, but the Moon has the stars. They’re like soldiers: they protect her”.

Peter looked at me while eating another marshmallow, as if he was really thinking about what I said, then he nodded.

“I agree. I can be your star,” he said. “I’ll protect you. From now on, we’re friends,” he stated. 

I smiled at him.

“Thanks, friend”.

“You’re welcome,” he said. “Oh, what did you wanna ask me?”

I didn’t actually have anything to ask him. Maybe I just wanted some accompany that night, because I couldn’t sleep either. His words changed me, though. I wanted to return the favor in some way.

“One day, I’m gonna ask you to promise me something and you’ll have to keep your word”.

He brought a hand to his heart and swore to do so.

“Okay”.

And that was the night I fell in love with Peter Parker. 

Some years after that, when we were at university, he broke my heart when he told me he kissed MJ. 

“Why do I feel like you’re not happy about it?” He asked me. 

How do you explain to somebody that you’re drowning in your own thought? In your own blood, in your own bones. It’s like you’re disappearing, but you really don’t. You just wish you could.

“Because I don’t really like her”.

“You’re kinda the same person, actually,” he said and it really hurt me.

“What?”

“No, wait, I didn’t mean to…”

“If you think that you can replace me with her, you can do it. It’s fine,” I said, shutting the door behind me.

“Y/N! I didn’t mean to say that! I just wanted… I just… I don’t know,” he sighed, then I heard him sitting on the floor, his back on the door and his breath so distant from my skin. He stayed silent for a couple of minutes, that’s why I thought he went away. I could still hear his heartbeat through the door though, since I was with my back on it like him. “You’re irreplaceable, to me. I just wanted to say that you’re similar to MJ, that’s it. You’re two black cats. I’m sorry”.

I remained silent for some time, then I sighed: it was impossible to stay angry at him for more than two minutes straight.

“That makes you a golden retriever, then?” I asked and he chuckled.

“I guess so”.

I wanted to tell him. I wanted to tell him that I was in love with him then and that I had been for years, but the words wouldn’t come up to my mouth. Besides, he was in love with someone else. We were just friends and it had to be enough for me.

“Hey, Peter?”

“Yes, Y/N?”

“I learned that stars that shine the brightest do that because they’re dying. I shouldn’t do that”.

“Do what? Shine?”

“Die,” I said. “You’re not allowed to die. Okay?”

“Okay”.

I didn’t know it then, but I’d have been the one to die.

Thanos was… a lot of things. And Peter was a lot of things to me. So when I had to choose what to do, it was simple. My Dad didn’t want me to be there, but I was on the battlefield. I saw people fight, die give everything they could. It was terrific. But I was there to protect Peter, because I knew that he couldn’t do that alone, despite him being so strong all the time. Because he was like me. 

“Y/N?” He shouted, when he saw me. He was surprised and scared at the same time. “You shouldn’t be here!” 

“I should!” I said, while I was fighting with one of Thanos’ soldiers.

“If anything happens to you, I swear…”

“Nothing will happen!” I said, while he was winning against some soldier.

“Mr. Stark will be very disappointed!”

Yes, he was.

“He’ll understand!”

No, he didn’t.

“Why are you here?” Peter asked me, while he was close enough to put his hands on my shoulders. I had an armor, but it was useless when he looked into my eyes. I melted like a silly little girl.

“You know why,” I said and I prayed that he understood it. My heart clenched.

He gulped.

“I don’t”.

“You shine brighter than me. I can’t allow you to die,” I replied.

“This doesn’t make any sense, Y/N. I won’t leave you here. I’ll take you home”.

“You will,” I said. “You have to. You promised. Don’t follow me. You have to keep your word, remember? If Thanos kills me…”

“No, Y/N, no…”

“If Thanos kills me,” I continued, “you won’t look for revenge. Is it clear?”

“Y/N…”

“Is it clear?” I repeated, determined. He nodded. “Good”.

You’re asking yourself how I knew that, right? Well, I didn’t. But I knew Peter. I knew that he would have followed me anywhere, because I would have done that too. 

Then, everything happened all at once. My Dad saw me from the distance. He called out my name, but I didn’t hear him. I was disappearing. Peter looked at me in disbelief, too astonished to talk. That was me dying twice. 

“Remember me,” I said, while trying to hug him, but it was like my muscles were too tired to even embrace him. I was slowly falling asleep.

“Y/N? Y/N?” He called. “I love you! I love you!” He screamed, his voice a desperate heartbreak into the air. “I love you!”

When my dad reached out to him, it was already too late for me. 

***

When Peter came back from the cemetery, he didn’t expect to see Tony Stark at his university, after five years. He knew that Y/N came to the battle just to protect Peter, so he hated him because if his eldest daughter died was his fault. But now he knew what to do in order to bring her back and he needed his help to do it. 

“Mr. Stark,” Peter said, surprised. “I didn’t expect to see you here”.

“It’s her death anniversary, I know, but I had other things to do,” he said. “I know how to bring her back, Peter, but I need you to come with me”.

Peter shaked his head.

“I don’t understand: I thought that you hated me”.

“Y/N always said that nobody could really hate you and she was right”.

Peter smiled at him, his lips trembling.

“I broke up with MJ the day before the battle. I wanted to tell her, but I never got the chance. I thought that she didn’t want me”.

Tony put a hand on his shoulder, a warm smile on his face.

“There’s not a world in which she doesn’t want you, I fear”.

That being said, they were coming back to the past with the other Avengers in order to save Y/N and the people who had died because of Thanos. Tony was the first one to see Y/N coming back from the dead.

“Peter!” He called.

Peter turned and he saw Y/N. It was like coming back from a dream. She was finally back into his arms and he wouldn’t have let her go, this time. He dipped his nose into the crook of her neck and inhaled her scent. It was so real it made his heart ache. If he could have exchanged his place with her in all those years, he would have done so. He would have done anything to make her live a normal life. Being without her meant not living, but barely floating on the surface.

“I’m in love with you,” he said. “I’ve been for most of my life, actually. Since that night we ate the marshmallows together”.

He saw her bring her hands on her heart, tilting her head with tears in her eyes.

“And you’re my light, Peter. You always have been”.

Then he hugged her again and it felt like coming home.  

[fen-luciel]

Jealousy part 2

Part 1 here part 3 here

Warnings: age gap/toxic behavior

Vernestra-Padawan reader/jedi Qimir

I lied. Or rather, I had some ideas while I was writing, so instead of three parts, there will probably be four. Nothing is certain, but... you have been warned.

Leave a comment and share if you are enjoying the story.

I can't say exactly when things started to change. Maybe they were never normal from the beginning, but I was too distracted to see it, blinded by this lie that I childishly told myself.

The more comfortable I felt with Qimir, the worse his relationship with Vernestra became, to the point where in the naivety of my young age, I thought it was my fault, but in truth, I couldn't even see the problem.

I had learned to recognize my master's moods very early on. I understood before even talking to her if she was nervous because of some diplomatic mission or worse. Sometimes I was left to myself for entire days, i knew her missions were very important and that I would only slow her down, but all I could do was read and train with other padawans and read again and... do nothing.

So, while I daydreamed about the magnificent future missions with my master... I spent time with Qimir.

Of course, he was busy too, but I eagerly awaited his return each time. He would tell me what he did, who he met on his travels, the fights to the last breath, and, he was good at narrating them. He often came to see me in the library, where he would put on a silent show due to the librarian's constant admonishments, using books as pieces of the story and his lightsaber to represent himself. I laughed so much that my cheeks hurt, I used my hands to muffle the louder sounds, and Qimir seemed to love every moment of it. Sometimes, I wondered if he didn't deliberately behave insanely on missions just to tell me about it when we would meet.

The months passed quickly. After about a year as a padawan, I began to distinguish between what I was good at and what I was terrible at. For example, I was great at controlling the Force, but terrible at using the sword. Not because I wasn't good from a technical standpoint, but more for a mental reason, the idea of hurting someone paralyzed me. I wanted to be a Jedi who protected the weak, but I had missed the part where, if you're protecting them, it's because someone is hurting them, someone who probably should be stopped even with the use of force.

Worse still, I was terrified of my master's weapon, the whip seemed so unpredictable to control, yet she used it with deadly precision and wanted me to try it too. She believed my fear was natural for a young mind, that I just needed to unlock myself, but for me, it wasn't like that.

And it got worse when I sought comfort in Qimir.

Maybe, in hindsight, I should have realized something, but it's easy to talk when the worst has already happened. I remember very well what happened that evening, I was exhausted after all the sword training. Vernestra didn't seem particularly happy with my outburst a few hours earlier when I tried to say that maybe I wasn't suited to be a knight, that I could have pushed myself into the medical field or even just be an assistant, maybe a volunteer in war zones. She thought I was speaking without knowing anything, pushing me all afternoon to train in various forms. My hands hurt from calluses, but instead of running to the infirmary, I decided to knock on Qimir's room.

"I don't understand why she doesn't want to accept it. I... don't want to hurt anyone." I broke the tense silence that had formed while Qimir wrapped my fingers with the bandages he had in the bathroom.

"No one said you have to. You're a Jedi, our job is to fight for those in need." He was focused on looking at my fingers, so he didn't notice the grimace I gave him, "And I understand that. But I don't feel suited for that role. Many Jedi perform different duties, fighting isn't essential for everyone." He sighed a laugh.

"I think Vernestra is worried about your safety, it's okay to seek your vocation elsewhere, but our faith leads us to interact with dangerous environments, even the most peaceful mission could hide a terrible evil." He finished the bandaging, then gently took my hands in his, the warmth of his palms a pleasant consolation to the painful throbbing of the blisters that filled my fingers.

He looked at me again with a sad smile on his lips, "I understand that you feel sure of what you want. But, flower, you're still a child. And you have many years ahead of you before you face the final exam, you don't know what will happen or if you will change your mind, don't take what you feel for granted." I blushed foolishly at the nickname he had started calling me some time ago, something about how "I seemed delicate like a flower".

"I know, but... don't you think lightsabers are terrifying?" I stuttered uncertainly, looking into his eyes.

And that moment. That single instant when he gave me that sweet smile, I shivered.

"That's what makes them so beautiful, right?"

I didn't have an answer, maybe yes, but I wouldn't have had the courage to tell him at the moment. I only know that I swallowed a bitter bite and freed myself from his grip, a heavy breath escaping my mouth, "I have to go, thanks for the bandages," I got up quickly and fled from that room as if I had someone on my heels.

That shiver down my spine, that rancid smell at my nose, I couldn't imagine it at the time, but that was the first time I felt fear.

Of course, I blamed myself entirely, I was exaggerating, everyone said so, I was terrified of violence in a way not suitable for the role I was supposed to fill in the future, I should have recovered quickly and restarted my training. I tried to forget that evening, as I had gradually forgotten that conversation on Hoth, but that was just the beginning.

The missions with Qimir keeping us company decreased over time, sometimes he just stopped by for a greeting or joined us more to keep me company if he had a free moment. I really appreciated the time together, I liked that we could remain silent without making it seem strange, once on Naboo he showed me almost the whole city since he had already visited it before. We got ice cream overlooking a lake in complete silence, the sunset was spectacular, and with the light sounds of the forest accompanying us, I fell asleep with my face pressed against his side.

The next morning, I found myself in my room with his cloak as a blanket since I was still dressed. When I tried to return it, he teased me, saying I had slipped on the ground when I pressed against him. I yelled at him that he was rude to tell me that, but only because I didn't have the courage to admit that I found it hilarious. If I had given him rope, he would have teased me about it for months.

When I was finally old enough to accompany the master on some of her more dangerous missions, my opinion on weapons had not changed, but I had made peace with myself and decided to find my combat style.

I was proud of how I built my lightsaber, but I had to modify it when I implemented the double-sided exit to have a double-bladed saber. It made me feel safer using it, more protected, and it was a more versatile weapon, especially for more enemies. So, once I got used to using it combined with a defensive fighting style, I finally felt complete.

On the field, I rarely used the lightsaber, trusting more in my control of the Force to block my opponents and stun them. I knew Vernestra was not entirely happy with how I restrained myself, but I tried to excel in everything else, hoping it was enough.

On a return trip to Coruscant, both wounded and tired, we talked once again about the problem that had arisen when it was needed.

What was supposed to be a quiet afternoon defending senators had turned into a nightmare when a bomb exploded at the meeting place, civilians fleeing in terror, and only a Jedi and a padawan handling the dozen terrorists shooting at the crowd.

The situation obviously got out of hand, and we survived by a miracle. Before calling the council to let them know what had happened, seeing me still so shaken, Vernestra hugged me.

I clung to her robe, barely holding back tears, the memory of all the wounded passing under my eyes still fresh, but she grabbed my shoulders, and looking at me with a determined face, she said, "You did well. I am proud of you."

A few minutes later, when we could finally sit down, I had the courage to speak.

"I killed them. It was so..." I was looking at the blue of hyperspace around us, lost in my thoughts, I don't know if I was talking more to myself or to her.

"You did what was necessary. On other occasions, we could have captured them, but we were at a disadvantage. Sometimes, to save lives, you have to make drastic choices," her tone always confident, as if it were all normal, and technically it was, for her.

I no longer knew what I was doing at that point.

"I know, but... my hands..." were shaking. They shaking even then, in the peace of our shuttle. I held onto the armrests tightly as if I were afraid of falling.

"Maybe Qimir is right."

I turned suddenly, confused, hearing his name mentioned out of nowhere. She sighed before looking at me again, "He thinks it would do you good to train with him a bit. He has been suggesting it to me for a while..." she cleared her throat before looking away.

"Maybe dealing with a more aggressive combat style like his would help you unlock. I know you two have become friends, and... he is much better than me at making you feel comfortable. He might be more helpful than I am."

I was taken aback, more by the fact that Qimir had suggested something like that without letting me know anything. It gave me a strange, somewhat unpleasant feeling that I couldn't quite identify.

But still, my problems at the moment were different, so I nodded. I already felt guilty enough for hesitating in the face of danger. Despite the comforting words, I couldn't shake off the feeling that I had failed.

“Just… be careful, okay?”

The look he gave me is one I would never forget. That… knowing glint deep in his eyes, like a warning bell. But I ignored it.

I nodded, but I ignored it.

When we got home, she headed towards the council room to submit her report. She advised me to go rest since it was already evening, but after saying goodbye to her, I quickly walked down the Jedi corridor. I had been injured and was limping slightly, the next day, I could get myself healed quickly by a healer using the Force, but at that moment, it was a different kind of pain tormenting me.

I knocked hard on Qimir's door without even thinking about it, two, three times before I heard some commotion on the other side, bare footsteps approaching the door before it opened.

“I hope you have a good reason for knocking on my door at this hour—” he mumbled sleepily, his hair messy and wearing only a pair of sweatpants. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, confused, when I jumped into his arms.

My face pressed against his warm chest, and the tears I had been holding back until then started to fall relentlessly, accompanied by a few sobs.

He woke up suddenly, understanding what was happening. He effortlessly picked me up before entering the room and shutting the door behind him. “Hey, hey, my sweet flower, what's wrong?” he whispered in my ear, now fully awake.

I hid my face in his neck while he hugged me tightly, my legs hanging down the sides of his hips, my tears wetting the skin of his chest as I tried to stammer out coherent words.

I had never felt so small until that night, hidden in his arms. Although his cheerful personality made him seem childish at times, I tended to forget that we were a little over ten years apart, we didn’t really share anything except our loyalty to the Order and the same master, but we weren’t the same age, and we didn’t even have similar hobbies. We�� he treated me like a little sister with absent parents.

I had run off to seek the safest comfort I knew, and he had given it to me without a second's protest.

He listened to my tear-flavored words without saying anything, his fingers brushing through my hair, partly caressing my scalp. He held me against his chest tighter when my sobs were too much to utter even a single syllable. He didn’t say anything when I was done, had me take off my shoes and most of my dirty tunic, and then lay down in bed with me.

I was pressed between the wall and his warm body, one arm on my side, and the covers wrapped around me like a cocoon.

The next day, still comfortably pressed against his chest, I took a moment to sort out my thoughts. I was ashamed of having lost my composure like that, i shouldn’t have fallen victim to fear, so I slipped away at dawn to avoid facing him. We never talked about what happened, I didn’t have much to say anyway and went back to focusing on my studies.

A few days later, Vernestra came to tell me she would be away to resolve the conflict that had arisen after that attack and that I was entrusted to Qimir as she had mentioned. I had already forgotten about that story, but it all came flooding back when we said goodbye on the platform. Her hesitant look as she stopped halfway up the ramp. I saw her sigh, maintaining a stoic expression before coming back to me one last time. “Trust your instincts, Padawan. If something makes you uncomfortable or… you just leave, got it? You’re still too young for certain matters.”

I didn’t have time to ask her what she was referring to, she boarded the ship right after and left, leaving me there with questions on the tip of my tongue.

Qimir sought me out soon after. I was hiding in the library every afternoon, hoping not to run into him and avoid training, but of course, it didn’t last long. With his usual light smile and calm demeanor, he approached me one morning, “Are you perhaps skipping your training, Padawan?” he asked, mimicking an authoritative tone.

I couldn’t even laugh. In the end, I gave in. I had promised my master, and the fear I felt that afternoon still gave me nightmares, so I followed him into the training room.

Fighting Qimir was like facing a hurricane, seemingly chaotic but, in reality, a perfectly concentrated deadly force of nature. I was used to exhausting rhythms, so I didn’t find it difficult, but what destabilized me was his gaze. It seemed like he really wanted to kill me.

Fast and lethal with his double violet lightsabers, he often aimed at my legs to make me fall and gain an advantage over me. I squirmed uneasily under that assault, of course, that was the goal of that training, but… there was a cold wind behind him. A suffocating sensation, a chill on my skin that made me doubt who or what I was facing.

Vernestra was away for just under a month, during which I trained with Qimir when I wasn’t studying. One of the last training sessions was grueling. I began to doubt he wanted to take it easy on me from the beginning, we clashed forcefully -with our lightsabers- because “it’s needed to keep you sharp ” as if the strikes he aimed at me weren’t enough to keep me alert.

A particularly painful strike to the thigh made me fall heavily to the ground, the fabric of my robe smoking from the slash. When I looked up at him, now disarmed, I almost vomited. Those eyes… now I could recognize them. The eyes of a killer. The same as those men that afternoon weeks before who had charged into the crowd.

I fled the room, took a shower, and went to bed without dinner. I was sure I was going insane. I was tired and nervous and seeing things that weren’t there. I tried to shake off that voice in my head that screamed at me to be careful with Qimir, the guilt clashing with the fear. I tried to bury it all once again, deeper and further away.

And so my routine returned to normal once everything was back to how it was before, and the master had returned, although… I had started to avoid Qimir. It wasn’t that I was running away from him, it was more like a need for personal space, let’s say. Luckily, he was sent on a mission, but he wrote to me almost every evening with messages about his goals, to which I replied with monosyllables. He realized something was wrong, but when he asked me how I was or if something had happened, I dodged the question.

During a mission in the Outer Rim, I was able to indirectly spy on a call between Vernestra and Qimir. She was scolding him for some unspecified decision, but it was the final warning that made me waver. “You’re losing your composure lately. Leave the mission and return to Coruscant to meditate on your choices.” My breath stopped when I heard him shouting through the holopad. I couldn’t quite make out the words, but he was complaining about the poor results of the missions or something like that. I swallowed down that memory too. It had been an outburst due to a tense situation, it could happen. I had to stop thinking about it.

Shared missions completely disappeared. Qimir and I only saw each other to spend time together. One evening, he took me to dinner in a somewhat shabby place with the promise that I could bring my fellow Padawans there when we were older. The light conversation at the table was pleasant before silence surrounded us.

“I’m sorry we see each other less lately,” he finally sighed after dessert.

I shrugged, relaxed. “Well, we have our duties. And I need to keep studying.” I thought I had given a satisfactory answer, but he looked more frowned than before. “It’s unfair. I want a Padawan too.”

I chuckled at the thought. “I think you need a few more years for that.” But he didn’t laugh, instead, he… stared at me in a way I couldn’t decipher. “Why do you say that? You’re growing well.”

I frowned at the answer. “Qimir, I’m Vernestra’s Padawan. No offense, but it’s she who’s raising me,” I maintained a smile that he didn’t share. “You spend more time with me than with her.”

I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. I wanted to tell him that it was normal since we were friends, but that had little to do with the conversation we had started. To tell him that, as good as he was, he still struggled to act like a real authoritative figure suitable for a young boy who needs to learn the Jedi way, but… of course, I said nothing.

I didn’t feel like it. That conversation died just as it had begun.

It seemed that as time went by, that cheerful air around him faded. Maybe it was the maturity I was gaining that woke me up from that waking dream I was living. I recognized certain expressions or glances better, those smiles that once warmed my heart now had a bitter aftertaste. I began to wonder if something had been wrong from the start. Sometimes those strange warnings from Vernestra or those fragments of memories where I had seen him in a different light, more sinister, would come back to me.

So, I made a decision.

It was better to put some distance between the two of us, maybe growing up, I would be able to face him better, understand what was going through his head, and once matured, I would be able to help him as he helped me.

I don’t know if that decision was the straw that broke the camel’s back, if it was something inevitable that had already begun, or if there was no escape. Looking back at everything that happened, the mistakes had started much earlier, but how much blame did I truly deserve?

I was young, naive, it wasn’t my job to see beyond the veil of lies, beyond the Jedi, beyond the Force.

I wouldn’t have been able to recognize the dark side under those circumstances.

And in fact, I didn’t recognize it until it was too late.

And there it was, right in front of me, taking my breath away.

[newtthetranswriter]

Hello,

Is it possible to have a one shot about Natsu reuniting with his s/o after he left for his 1 year of training ? Like he left only a letter for them ( the same way he did for Lucy ) but his s/o is upset when he come back ( bc seriously who leave like that ) like an angst/hurt to comfort kind of one shot? Thank you !

Word Count: 3168

Paring: Natsu Dragneel x gn! Reader

Warnings: Possibly Ooc Natsu and Lucy, Canon typical violence

A/n: Hello thank you so much for requesting this. I had a lot of fun writing this so I hope you enjoy it and that it reaches your expectations. Anyway, have a great day and remember to hydrate or diedrate.

    After the fight against Tartaros I had spent a few days in the hospital to recover from the few injuries I had received during the fight. Natsu visited me on the first day checking in on me to see if I was okay, but before I could make sure he was okay he said he had something he needed to do before leaving. On day two Lucy told me that Master Makarov had decided to disband Fairy Tail. It also felt like she was hiding something else but I didn't push it.

    When I was finally free to leave on day three, I was shocked that Natsu and Happy hadn’t shown up to walk me home. I brushed it off as they were busy trying to figure out what we were going to do now that Fairy tail was no more, I made my way to our shared home. Reaching the small house on the edge of Magnolia, I was stunned by how quiet it was.

   “Natsu, Happy, I’m home.” I called out, opening the front door expecting to be greeted by one of them. “Hello, Natsu, are you guys home?” I said looking around the space. It was weirdly clean considering Natsu and Happy were known to be bad at cleaning up after themselves. Looking around some more I noticed that there was a small envelope laying on the counter. I cautiously picked up the envelope, taking note of the wax seal that was pressed with N in holding it closed. Gently breaking the seal, I pulled out the contents.

    Dear Y/n,

   Happy and I are going on a training mission. We’ll be back in a year or so. I would have asked you to come along but I know how much you like being around our friends at Fairy Tail, so I figured you would want to stay behind. Plus you’re still recovering from the fight and I need to start training soon if I want to beat Zeref. Anyway stay safe and don’t forget that I love you. Also Happy wants you to know that he left some fish for you so you don’t have to worry about getting back to work right away. Well we should be off, again stay safe, I love you and I’ll see you in a year.

  Sincerely,

Natsu and Happy

P.s. there’s also a stash of jewel in the small box on our nightstand. Feel free to use it however you want.

  By the time I finished reading the short letter, I had tears streaming down my cheeks. Not only had the Guild I called home for most of my life just up and disbanded, but the one person who promised to be by my side no matter what, left. Not only did he leave, but he felt that a note was better than telling me to my face that he planned on leaving. I probably sat on the floor in the small makeshift kitchen for a couple hours before I decided to get up.

   As I was making my way to what used to be mine and Natsu’s shared room, there was a knock at the door. Hoping that maybe they had decided to come back for me, I wiped my eyes reaching for the door. Before I could welcome them home, I made eye contact with Lucy. Realizing it was in fact not Natsu but our close friend, I broke down in tears once again. Not being able to hold myself up, I slumped against Lucy crying into her shirt.

   “Hey it’s going to be okay.” She said softly while patting my back. “Let’s get you sitting down and then you can talk about it if you want.” The blonde said gently moving me off her chest and ushering me to sit on the small couch in my living room.

   After another hour of me crying into Lucy’s shoulder, I finally stopped and just looked forward to the empty room. “It feels wrong not having those two causing mayhem.” I whispered out as if talking any louder would break something.

   Lucy nodded as she rested her head against mine. “I know not having Natsu lighting something on fire is weird.” She said, before lifting her head off mine. “I’m sorry, I should have told you when I visited you yesterday at the hospital. I just didn’t know how.” she explained, I could tell from the shakiness of her voice that she meant it.

   “It’s not your fault Lucy, actually I’m kind of glad you didn’t tell me. I might have blamed you for it. But after reading the letter I know the only person to blame is Natsu.” I said, looking towards the letter that I apparently never set down. “I want to understand and accept that he’s going through a lot because he had to watch Igneel die, but I can’t help but be angry.” My emotions were a mess as everything set in. “He just left me with only a note and expects me to be okay with that. What am I supposed to do Lucy? Fairy Tail is done, so I won’t be able to find any work, and everyone from the guild is going to be leaving town soon so what am I supposed to do?” I asked hoping my close friend would have some answers.

   She sighed before pulling me back in for a hug. “I’m not sure Y/n, but we can figure it out. I’m sure of it.” Lucy said. It was silent for a moment before she spoke again. “Hey, why don’t you join another guild? I heard that Wendy and Carla are going to join Lamia Scale, maybe you could go with them.” She suggested.

   I thought for a moment, she was right, I could join another guild. But what would I do with my house? It's not just mine after all, it’s Natsu and Happy’s as well. I can't just sell it, and what if they come back sooner. Everything was running through my head a mile a minute. I looked to Lucy before my brain settled on a single thought. “What are you going to do?” I asked hoping that hearing her plan would help me figure out mine.

   “Oh, I was going to try and get a job with sorcerer weekly. I’ve always wanted to be a writer so maybe I could get an editing position there.” She said after a moment of thinking. 

   Taking in the information I thought for a moment, before making up my mind. “I think I’m just going to stay here for now.” I said, earning a confused look from Lucy. “I can find a job here in town and that way I’m here if Natsu and Happy come back early.” I said with a weak smile.

   She still looked confused but sighed. “If that’s what you really want, then okay Y/n. But don’t get your hopes up, I doubt Natsu would say he’ll be gone for a year if he doesn’t mean it.” She said standing up.

   “Well it’s Natsu who knows what he’s thinking. And plus someone has to keep the house clean while they’re gone. I’ll be fine, and think of it this way at least you’ll know where to find me if you ever need me.” I smiled up at her. “Promise that if you make it big working for Sorcerer Weekly that you’ll write to me and keep me updated on how things are going.” Lucy nodded, smiling before leaving. That night I barely slept, thinking about Natsu and how I hoped he was okay.

    When I woke up the next morning, I was startled by how quiet and cold the house was. But after walking out to the living room and seeing the discarded letter from Natsu on the table, I was reminded of everything that happened. I sighed before going to make myself a quick breakfast and deciding that after eating I would head into town to find work. Without Fairy Tail and without Natsu, I would have to find work soon.

    Time Skip

    It’s been a year since Fairy Tail disbanded. Which also means it’s also been a whole year since I last saw Natsu. I had stuck to what I told Lucy that night and got a job in Magnolia, staying in the house I once shared with Natsu and Happy hoping that one day they would finally return home. Lucy also kept her word and after she moved to the Capital for her job with Sorcerer Weekly, she would send letters regularly to keep me updated on her life and any information she had heard about our Fairy Tail family. Eventually as the Grand Magic Games came around, Lucy sent me an invitation saying that since she was working as a reporter for the event, she was given an extra ticket and thought I might want to watch the games. Needing a small break from Magnolia, I left for the capital ready to spend time with Lucy and see what the current top Guilds had to offer.

   The games had been interesting enough. Not as crazy as last year when Fairy Tail completely wiped the floor with the competition, but it was still fun to watch. As the final battle to decide the top guild ended, I was stunned into silence feeling a very familiar Magic start to envelope the stadium. The whole stadium followed suit as a hooded figure appeared in the arena. After a moment heat started to take over the arena and I could hear Lucy saying something about everyone needing to leave.

   Focusing on the figure and the feel of their magic I knew right away who it was. “We need to find some wizards who can fight him off.” Lucy said as the figure produced flames and began fighting the wizards in the stadium.

   “Lucy I don’t think anyone in this Stadium is going to be strong enough to fight him off.” I said as I walked up next to her, holding my arm over my face trying to block the heat. She looked at me confused. I just nodded towards the fight. “Just watch.”

   She still seemed confused but turned back to the fight. As the heat rose and the stadium began to melt I watched as realization struck Lucy. Just as she was about to say something, the announcer beat her to it. “It’s Natsu Dragneel.” Earning a massive cheer from the crowd. 

   As if on queue from the announcement, a familiar blue cat popped up between me and Lucy. “Hey, It’s been awhile. How you doing?” Hearing the exceed’s voice I turned and offered a small smile. 

   Lucy also turned to our flying friend. “Happy, you’re back.” She exclaimed, still covering her chest after Natsu’s heat melted her clothes.

   “Yeah, well Natsu insisted on challenging whoever won this year’s Grand magic Game. So here we are I guess.” Happy explained.

    I nodded, turning back to the fight, or well what was supposed to be a fight but looked more like an execution. “They don’t seem to be putting up much of a fight.” I heard Lucy say as she observed the same thing as me. I watched for only a few more seconds, listening to Natsu yell as he took on random wizards who jumped into fight him, before turning to Lucy.

   “I’m gonna head back to your apartment to rest.” I said, earning a confused look from both her and Happy. “I’m just tired and it’s super hot right now. It was nice seeing you Happy.” I explained as I walked away giving a gentle wave towards Happy. 

   As I walked away I heard Happy begin to follow me. “Wait Y/n, don’t you want to say hi to Natsu?” I paused in my trek out of the stadium. He wasn’t wrong. I did want to say hi to Natsu, but actually seeing him for the first time in a year all my emotions i thought I suppressed came rushing back.

  “Look Happy, I’m glad to see that you both are ok but I can’t see him. Not right now. I need to take some time and gather my thoughts.” I said looking at the cat. I watched as his face dropped. “Hey don’t be sad, you’re Happy you should be happy. I’ll talk to him later. You guys have fun with Lucy.” I offered him a gentle smile.

   He looked off to the side before sighing. “Okay, but we did miss you while we were gone.” He said as he gave me a quick hug. I returned the hug patting his head before waving him off and moving to leave the stadium.

   After I reached Lucy’s apartment, I realized I would only have a short period of time to process everything before Lucy came back and Natsu would definitely be with her. I sighed before deideng that I would go for a walk to clear my head. Quickly writing a note on a spare piece of paper saying I would be back later, I left the apartment again.

   I had been walking around the city for quite a few hours just thinking of how to deal with Natsu being back. Sure I was happy that he was okay and that he came back but the hurt from him leaving felt fresh. Taking a seat on one of the many little bridges that dotted the town, I sighed watching the water. I thought I had finally found a quiet place to work out my emotions, but before I could really start thinking, I heard footsteps approach from the side.

  “You’re avoiding me.” I froze up at the sound of his voice. “Why?” Natsu asked as he sat next to me. Refusing to look at him, I shook my head. “Don’t lie to me Y/n, I could smell you at the stadium, and then at Lucy’s apartment. Plus Happy said that you needed to gather your thoughts, whatever that means.”

   My shoulders sagged as I sighed. “I’m sorry. I just got scared, I guess.” I said not knowing what else to say.

   I could feel the bewildered look he was giving me without even looking at him. “Scared, of what? It’s just me. I’m the same guy I’ve always been.” He said as if it was the most obvious answer. Sensing that I still wasn’t ready to talk he sighed. “I should be the one apologizing. I left without talking to you first and that was terrible. I didn’t think that Gramps would disband the guild so I figured you would still have everyone in Fairy Tail to lean on. I was so focused on getting stronger and fighting Zeref that I failed to see I was being a shitty friend and an even shittier boyfriend.” Natsu said, hesitantly reaching for my hand. “I’m sorry that I left like that. Please let me make it up to you. I’ll do whatever you want me to just please don’t leave me.” Hearing the hurt in his voice, I finally looked at him.

   It was rare to see Natsu cry and so seeing the tears gently fall down his face startled me. I wanted to just cave and accept his apology and let things go back to the way they were, but I needed to say my piece. “I agree you were a shitty friend and a shitty boyfriend. I was already hurt physically from fighting Tartaros, then Lucy told me the Guild broke up and to top it off when I got home all I was greeted with was a letter. I was broken, I thought I wasn’t good enough, that the reason you didn’t bother to wait for me to heal was because you figured I’d just hold you back.” I began venting out the feelings I had kept bottled up for the past year. “Natsu I waited for you everyday. I woke up hoping that it was all just a dream and that you and Happy would be there arguing over whether or not fish should be cooked. And it broke me to live in our little house all alone, it took everything in me not to abandon it and move on.” I watched his face fall even more at the idea of me leaving our shared home. “But every time I got close to giving in to my dark thoughts and leaving, I remembered that you were out there somewhere and you would need somewhere to return to.” I explained, watching as his face slowly lightened up. 

   Taking a moment to breathe, I thought about what else I need to say. “I’m not saying we can go back to exactly how it was before, but I would be ok with trying again. Just promise that if you want to go on an extended training mission again, you talk with me first. And I mean actually talk to me, not just leave a letter saying you’ll be back in a year.” I said, giving him a pointed look. 

   And like magic, Natsu went from a hurt puppy dog to a puppy that was just given his favorite toy back. “I promise. I’ve missed you so much, I regretted leaving you behind every day I was gone.” He said with a bright smile. “Can I hug you now?” I laughed at the question, but nodded. I was quickly pulled into his arms, and I couldn’t help but sigh as I was enveloped by the familiar gentle smell of smoke that always lingered on him. “I really did miss you.” I heard him say as he buried his face in my neck.

   Patting his back and nuzzling into his scarf, I let out a small sound of agreement. After spending a few minutes in Natsu’s arms, I finally pulled away as a question suddenly struck me. “How did you find me all the way out here? We’re nowhere near Lucy’s apartment.” I asked.

   He tilted his head for a second before speaking. “I followed your scent, obviously. When we got back to her place and Lucy read your note, I wanted to head out right away, but her and Happy made me wait to give you time to think.” He explained like it was obvious. “Speaking of Lucy’s place, do you know the way back cause I have no clue where we are.” He asked.

   I laughed, of course he was able to track my scent after hours of me walking around but ask him to find a specific apartment in the big city and he draws a blank. “Yes, Natsu, I know the way back. Let’s go before Lucy and Happy start thinking I killed you or something.” Natsu laughed in response before offering his hand to help me stand up. Once I was standing he pulled me into another hug, placing a kiss on my forehead before pulling away and motioned for me to lead the way.

[piratesfromspace]

After the rain (141xReader)

Pairing: Reader x Soap (& implied Reader x 141)

Rated: Mature

Word count: 900

Summary: After being kidnapped and rescued, Rain needs to make sure Soap is still alive

Note: In the same universe as my "Rain or Shine" fic, it is the epilogue of the part 4. Some people requested this chapter, and I was happy to write a little something to offer some comfort to our poor Soap. Reader callsign is "Rain", she's bi and autistic (I am autistic myself).

Content: angst, hurt/comfort, aftermath of torture, medical setting, happy ending (kinda)

MASTERLIST // PART 1 // PART 2 // PART 3 // PART 4

Rain has a hard time opening her eyes. She’s not quite sure where she is, she’s slow to wake up, her brain still foggy from the sleeping pills. But then she moves in the bed, and everything starts hurting. Her muscles are so sore, bruises are painfully blooming under her scratched skin. Her head is heavy, throbbing. She feels like she’s been run over by a humvee. With the pain, everything comes back to her in a second. She rises with a gasp, a shot of adrenaline wringing her guts to the point she thinks she’s gonna puke. 

The light of day is peaking through the half-opened curtains of her room. She’s back on base, and everything is so vividly painful she’s sure it can’t be a dream. The memory of the past few days invades her - their capture, Johnny’s sacrifice to protect her, her crawling on the floor to rest her cheek against his bloody leg when their captor finally stopped. The sudden thought that Soap might not have survived the torture is suffocating her, she can’t breathe, it’s breaking her mind and her heart. Last she saw him he was laying on the heli floor surrounded by medics. 

A flash of white in the corner of her eyes attracts her attention when she finally gathers enough strength to get out of her bed. There is a crisp white strip of paper on her night-stand. It only says “he’s OK” in black ink, and she instantly recognizes Simon’s angular writing. Soap has made it. Tears wet her cheeks without her realizing she’s crying. 

—-

She tucks her fists inside the pocket of her hoodie. A black one that belongs to one of the boys, she can’t really tell which one. She keeps her head down, doesn’t want to cross the panicked gaze of colleagues at her face. She’s sporting various scratches, a mean bruise on the side of her jaw, her skin has a sickly yellow-ish undertone - she looks like shit and she knows it. 

She crosses the base in a hurried bee-line for the medical bay. She probably should call up her captain for further instruction, report to debrief or go see a doctor. But the only thing on her mind is finding Soap. She had always liked him - it was hard not to, he was funny, kind, quite handsome, always laughing. But she knew that he was growing obsessed with her, and it had frightened her at first. Situations like those could easily delve into unpleasant territories for everyone involved. Except it was Soap, smart-ass Soap, kind-hearted Soap, and he made it work even when it was obvious he was sad Rain had chosen Simon instead of him. After Siberia, things didn't really change, they rather shifted. The group was tighter, Rain was not shy with her attraction to the other guys, with her attraction to him. She let Johnny more into her bubble, into her heart. 

And here she is, the wet tracks of tears drying on her cheeks as she leaps through long corridors in search of Soap, when she should get checked for her own injuries, when she should maybe not stay alone like this. Her brain is still drowning in diluted stress hormones and the end trail of painkillers, the mix giving her a distant headache that will probably force her down in a couple hours. For now, she persists. 

When she finally finds him, she’s simultaneously disappointed and relieved to find him alone. Ghost, Gaz and Price must be somewhere else, maybe they just went out for a quick break. She doesn’t know how much time she has on her own with Soap, before someone, a nurse, or one of the boys, comes back. He looks like he’s sleeping. Bandages are wrapped around all his visible limbs, snaking around fingers, his wrists, part of his right arm. Around his head also, his already short hair clearly shaved for access to wounds. One of his eyes is hidden by a plastic shell. His lips are swollen, split in a few places. Skilled hands have been at work here, in dressing his wounds, wiping out dried blood, setting up electrodes and drips. It’s easy to forget how simple it is to destroy, and how labor-intensive it is to heal. The regular bip of the heart monitor is the thing that prevents her from spiraling further down. Alive. Her sergeant is alive. No need to explore the devastating thought of him being gone. 

She climbs on the bed, finds a place against him. His warmth makes her want to cry again. Her own scratched fingers hover over his cheekbones - the skin there is purple - then over his neck, she needs to feel his pulse under her scorched skin. Alive. She tucks her face next to his shoulder, tries to find the familiar smell under the antiseptic. Rain holds him the best she can without risking hurting him more, and decides that’s all she wants to do for the time being. 

That’s how the boys find them when they arrive some time after that. They had been looking for her after Simon had discovered her empty bed. They weren’t really scared. They knew she would be here. Where else? They swore to take care of each other - and that’s what they will keep doing, no matter what.

MASTERLIST

[vhagarlovebot]

VALENTINE’S DAY.

pairing: modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader.

summary: on valentine's day everything seems to have a discount for couples, so why not pretend to be one to save some money and have fun?

content warnings: fake dating trope, hurt/comfort, pining, some mildly suggestive content, confessions.

note: hello, lovely reader ! i just want to say a few things before you start reading. this was one of my first ever works here on this app but in a different blog way back when i used to write for the marauders. this was actually a request sent to me from a prompt list i can’t find anymore, and it was about sirius black. i edited it the best i could, so you’re probably still going to see some very poor grammar and it’s because i’d just started writing in english and because of that it is completely normal for me to still have problems writing in a language that isn’t mine. i really hope you enjoy! reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated.

“YOU SHOULD COME WITH US.” your friend maris says, applying lipstick in front of her mirror.

“and be the third wheel?” you ask from your spot on her bed, flipping through the pages of a magazine. “it’s bad enough you are dating my brother.” sighing, you toss the magazine having lost all your attention. “besides, i’m sure aegon and aemond are on their way.”

at the sound of their names, cregan’s head appears in the door. “you didn’t hear?”

“what?” you roll your eyes.

“aegon has a date.” the couple says, looking at each other, and then you.

“he what? fucking traitor.” you get up, going for your phone. “didn’t even have the decency to tell me. but he’s go—aemond is calling me… i swear to the seven if he’s going to cancel our plans i’m goin’ to kill myself.”

cregan laughs, calling you a dramatic as he walks away.

“you heard?”

aemond laughs. “yea’, i played matchmaker.”

“aemond?!”

“stop being so dramatic, i’m on my way.”

“and who the fuck is his date?” you ask again.

you hear him sigh, but you really want to know who’s this girl your friend is ditching you for. “just a friend.” his answer doesn’t make you feel better at all. it’s silly but this tradition of the three of you eating junk food and watching slasher movies has been going on for three years. it all started the valentine’s day your useless ex-boyfriend dumped you and both of them cancelled their dates to stay with you. you never really thought this day would come.

“it’s okay, just one more reason to be mad about.” you collapse on the couch, going immediately for the remote to search for a movie. “you bringing the food, right?”

“about that…” you sigh, ready to be stood up. “maybe we should go out.”

“what?”

“just make sure to be ready by the time i get there.”

then the call cuts out.

maris and cregan look puzzled at you, asking what’s going on without actually asking. you shrug and that is the only answer you give them, because you really don’t know what his plans are.

and not even five minutes have passed when aemond is knocking on the door.

an expression of pure terror crosses your face and before cregan opens the door, you run to maris’ bedroom.

“what’s going on?” she asks, her dress half buttoned.

“aemond said something about going out,” you explain while going through her clothes. “and m’not going out in sweatpants.”

you find a red skirt that goes with one of your tops and with a little help from your raven-haired friend you have as a roommate, ten minutes later, with an “are you done?” coming from the living room, you are ready to go to wherever your friend is taking you.

aemond is chatting with cregan, neither of them aware of your presence, so you take the time to look at him… like really look at him.

he’s wearing his leather jacket, the one he got during sixth year at boarding school and hasn't taken off since then, the same one you used to see girls wearing all around campus when he was with them. never the same girl twice. aemond is dressed entirely in black and you can see his chest peeking out from his button down.

aemond catches you staring and looks at you with a raised eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips, only to show you what’s behind his back; a bouquet of roses. it’s part of the tradition but it still makes your heart beat faster. you accept it with a smile, smelling them and leaving the bouquet on the table.

you pout, crossing your arms. “are you going to tell me what you have planned?”

“nope, let’s go.” aemond grabs your arm, dragging you out of there.

“no, seriously, he’s kidnapping me and you’re not doing anything.” you protest, looking back at your brother who just laughs, waving you goodbye. “i’m telling mom and dad!”

the door closes behind you and you let him walk you out of the building.

“aaand?” you ask once more, walking down the street, your arm around his.

you see couples everywhere, a few of them with flowers and balloons, holding hands, radiating love. and a part of you wishes for something like that. maybe not the balloons and a lot less cheesy, but the commitment, the tender love, someone with whom you can share your thoughts with, your nights, your future. you want to feel the passion, the need to have someone kissing every part of you, worshiping your body, sleepless night with bodies intertwined. you don’t want a one-night thing; you want it all.

“there’s a restaurant with discount for couples and is giving dessert for free.” his lilac eye looks straight into yours, a lopsided smile on his face. “and i was thinking about eating there, then bring dessert home and watch texas chain saw massacre on your couch.”

“that sounds like a great idea.” you smile, walking beside him a little more excited than before.

“you know we’ll have to pretend to be a couple, right?” he stops walking.

you roll your eyes. “know your limits.”

“i’m serious!”

“i know you've been dying to kiss me since forever, but that’s only going to happen in your dreams.”

he brings a hand to his chest, feigning sadness. “you are cruel.”

you slap his arm, pushing him aside. “fine, but keep your hands to yourself. i’m not one of your groupies.”

“you could be.”

“in your dreams.” he just laughs, walking by your side.

neither of you spoke again, but every time his arm grazed against yours a cold shiver ran down your spine. and that is something you haven’t felt since seventh year, when you walked in on aemond having sex with a girl and couldn’t look him in the eyes for weeks. you weren’t exactly quiet, dropping the books was what gave you away, and the girl was focused on something else, that being her body being pushed against the bed, so the only one who saw you was him. you’d think he would stop, maybe feel embarrassed, right? that is not aemond targaryen. he just kept doing it, eye focused on yours, on the way you held your breath when he moved his pelvis a certain way making her cry out. you were frozen in place, your eyes going from the spot where their bodies met to his eyes, and it was only when he moaned something that sounded a lot like your name, you got out of there.

you couldn’t look at him, opting instead on avoiding him and all the questions from your friends. eventually, what you saw was left in the past, even though he tried to talk about it you didn’t give him the chance. you couldn’t. even if a part of you wanted to know what he was going to say, even if you spent the rest of the year dreaming about it, wishing to be one of those girls. even if you still want to be one of those girls.

“oh gods.” you say, stopping in front of a sushi restaurant full of valentine’s day decorations.

the host greets you and aemond immediately gets into character, hand going to your lower back, right where your top meets the skirt, leaving a few centimeters of bare skin. your whole body reacts at that and it’s like touching the sun.

the whole place is full of heart-shaped balloons hanging from the ceiling, the tables have red tablecloths with red roses in vases, and each one of them is named after a romcom.

“your table.” the host smiles, stepping aside.

“no strings attached? really?” you could cry at how cheesy, awkward and stupid everything is.

“i wanted that one with matthew mcconaughey because it is your favorite, love. but it was already taken.” he seems genuinely sad and you smile, fixing the collar of his button down.

“it’s okay, aem.” you kiss his cheek. “thank you.” you give the man standing in front of you a smile and sit in the booth. it’s discrete and you are grateful for that, not wanting to pretend the whole time you are going to be there, afraid of arousing suspicion.

“your waiter is going to be here any minute. if you’ll excuse me.” the host walks away and you can finally breathe normally.

aemond sits beside you and when you make eye contact, it’s impossible not to laugh.

“i can’t believe we are doing this.” you hide behind your hands, making him laugh even more.

“i knew you’ll like it.” aemond winks at you. “no, but really, i can’t believe how they do this.”

“and how people like it.” you pretend to throw up, and he laughs again. “but at the same time it’s kind of cute?”

“are you serious?”

“it’s cute to see couples enjoying this day, going to restaurants like this and enjoy each other’s company.” you shrug, playing with the rose petals, avoiding eye contact.

“you want that?” he asks, moving closer, creating a bubble around the two of you.

“yeah.” this time you look up, meeting his eye looking intently at you. “i’ve wanted it for a long time, but i think i’m not made for that.”

aemond must see the sadness on your face, because he places his hand on top of yours. you smile, feeling the sudden urgency to run your fingers through his hair.

“i know the right guy for you is out there, maybe you just need to pay more attention.”

“you think so?” you lean towards him, whispering.

“maybe what you’re looking for is… right in front of you.”

you smell the cigarettes and peppermint on his breath and are almost able to see and count all the freckles on his face, you just need to move a little closer to know if his lips are as soft as they seem.

“aemond targaryen?”

a third voice startles both of you, and just like that the moment has passed.

a blonde girl stands in front of the table and by the pad and pencil in her hands you know she’s the waiter. she has green eyes and a bright smile addressed to aemond.

“do you—you known each other?” you ask when a minute has passed and none of them has said a word.

“um, yeah.” aemond moves away from you, hands resting on his thighs.

“i think the word known falls short.” the girl giggles and you want to throw up.

“i thought you were off tonight.” it’s like you are invisible for him right now.

in any other circumstance you wouldn’t care, but not today. not right now, not after what almost happened a moment ago, because you’re a hundred percent sure that if this girl hadn’t shown up you two would be doing a totally different thing.

“i didn’t know you were in a relationship.” her green eyes look at you. “i mean, if i’d known i wouldn’t have gone to your apartment yesterday.” there’s poison in her words, she’s doing it on purpose to hurt you, and succeeding.

you chuckle, closing your eyes. why does it hurt?

aemond says something and you immediately let your guard down, allowing you to believe, and wish, and dream about things that most likely aren’t going to happen. ever.

you thought the little crush you used to have on your brother’s best friend had vanished, but one night with him was enough to know that aemond targaryen still has power over you. that’s why you are never alone with him; you don’t trust yourself.

you never made a big deal about it until that incident in seventh year. that was the moment everything changed. but you were able to get over it, or so you thought.

“it’s okay.” you smile, trying not to look at aemond at all. “we’re just pretending, aemond wanted to get the discount.”

she giggles again. “couples only, sorry.” she doesn’t look sorry at all. “i’ll give you time to look at the menu.” with a flirty little smile, she disappears.

“why did you do that?” aemond asks, touching your arm for a second before you move away. you don’t want him to think something’s wrong, but it’s a little hard for you to pretend you’re not hurt.

“did what?” you play dumb, pretending to look at the menu.

“why did you tell her we’re not together?”

you frown. “’cause we’re not? and you had sex with her yesterday, if we’re going to pretend at least let me have some dignity.”

“you are getting it all wrong.” he huffs, running his hands through his hair. “if you let me explain—”

“you have nothing to explain, aemond.” you say, looking at him and trying to swallow the urge to scream. “i know how you are, we’re friends, remember?”

“but—”

“you know what? i think i would rather order something from mcdonald’s and call it a night.” smiling, you touch his hand trying to make it look like everything’s okay and you don’t want to jump in front of the blonde girl and scratch her face. “you are more than welcome to join.”

you don’t give him time to say something else, standing and walking out of the restaurant in less than a minute. not bothering to look back to know if he’s following, all you want to do is choke on ice cream and watch a movie, the thing you should be doing tonight in the first place.

the night is cold, but it helps to clear your mind.

you’re not even a block away, when his voice makes you stop in your tracks. “i like you.”

you’re surprised by his confession, even a little flame of hope taking place in your heart.

“tonight was supposed to be fun.” aemond sighs, and you know he’s scratching his neck, something he usually does when he’s nervous. “but i messed everything up.”

you stopped breathing after his first confession, but you still can’t turn around because you’re a coward, not sure what to do with a confession you have been dying to hear for so many years.

“i didn’t have sex with her.” you hear his footsteps and, in a second, he’s in front of you, his fingers lifting your chin up, lilac eye locked fixed on your face. “and haven’t had any in a very long time.”

“what?” you can’t hide the surprise in your voice.

he chuckles. “i know i haven’t been good at showing it, but i’ve had a crush on you since forever.”

“stop messing with me, aemond.” you don’t want to believe him, you really want to walk past him and forget this night happened at all. but the part inside of you that still wants this to be real, won’t let you.

“m’not!” both his hands are now on each side of your face, the only thing you can see is his good eye, his lips, the longing on his face. “i’ve wanted to tell you for a very long time… seventh year, to be exact.”

your eyes open a lot more at that. “are you—”

“yes.” he chuckles, his cheeks a soft pink. “it was stupid, but i thought you would take the hint. after all, i moaned your name on purpose.”

“shut up!” your face is burning, you don’t even need a mirror to know you’re blushing hard. “you were having sex with another girl, aemond.”

“but i was thinking of you.”

“that does not make me feel better, y’know.” you step away from him, taking some distance.

“i know, i’m an idiot.”

you silently agree, not jnderstand anything, tonight has been a blurry, a lot of things happening in so little time. old feelings resurfacing, jealousy, heartbreak, happiness.

“but i like you too, idiot.”

his face lights up. “i knew.”

“you—what?” you frown, heart about to get out of your chest.

“i had a feeling.” he shrugs, slowly getting closer to you again, making sure you are not running away this time.

“are you serious?”

“i think i just buried ‘em because was sure nothing was ever going to happen. you were, well, you. and i was not willing to suffer because of those feelings.” your arms wrap around his shoulders, fingers interlocking in his soft hair.

“i always thought you deserved much better. and i was a total coward, too afraid of not being what you expected.” he smiles, his hands going to your waist and caressing your soft and delicate skin, still burning for his touch. “and i kept denying it and denying it. denying that my heart beats faster every time you walk into a room, that i want to kiss you every time you laugh, every time you make fun of cregan, or cry watching animal planet, or talk about what you like and don’t like. that the only thing i’ve wanted for years has been to hold you in my arms and touch every part of your body, to make you feel what i feel. to show you what love really means, to show you things you haven’t experienced before. and just… to be by your side.”

all you feel is him, his calloused hands creating patterns on your bare skin, his peppermint breath, his warm, rich, woody scent engulfing you. and for the first time in years, you let those feelings rise to the surface. you let yourself burn for aemond targaryen.

[meichenxi]

languages, travel, identity, grief

Maybe some of you have heard of Xu Zhimo's Second Farewell to Cambridge (徐志摩 再別康橋 Translation: Saying Goodbye to Cambridge Again, by Xu Zhimo | East Asia Student). It's an achingly lovely poem about a Chinese scholar who studied in the UK, and how he left so gently, taking nothing with him as he went. It brought me solace over the last year.

I thought for a very long time about how I felt about having to leave China, and what it felt like to mourn for a future that was never going to mine. I cried. How am I supposed to explain why? I'm not Chinese. I've got no family there, or a childhood to look back on. I couldn't explain it even to myself.

That pain was coupled with a type of uncertainty, a discomfort at myself for feeling so strongly. This feeling was not allowed. It meant - what? Something awful, probably. I was a racist, probably. I should hate myself, probably. Fetishization is the word that gets thrown around for white people and their time spent in East Asia at one end of the spectrum - at the other end it's just seen as embarrassing and deeply, you know, cringe. It's a self-interrogation - why do I feel so sad? Why do I feel this pull so strongly anyway, to a country that's not even mine? Why should it matter so much when I leave? I didn't feel like this grief has any sort of legitimacy. But it has taken from September - eight months after leaving - for me to pick up Chinese again.

I felt, for months, hollow and unsettled and drifting from place to place. I opened my textbook, and closed it again. The memories there were too painful. I'm not going to write about why I had to leave, but it wasn't by choice. I had loved the people in the school, even if it was for a short time. When you have no internet and are training eight hours a day, the days are coloured more sharply: bright and hurtful and wonderful all at once. We had no running water. It was in an abandoned hotel. I miss the monk at the temple door opposite the school, always on time at 6am to open it for our classes. I miss the folk at the local shop who invited me to watch films on their projector; once they killed a chicken for us. I miss the woman in the woods who gave me the chestnuts she had picked. I gave the chestnuts to the cook, and we steamed them and ate them by the lake. He wanted me to marry his son; he wanted it so strongly that he brought me pork, and desserts, and gave me paper, and promised me I could have a jade bracelet, that he would buy me a house. I miss the oldest martial arts teacher, who spoke in such strong dialect I could barely understand him. When I was sad and missing home one night, he told me that I should stay after dinner. In the silence and against the cicadas, he started to play the erhu for me. Later, my friend told me that he hadn't know what to say, how to comfort me; I was a foreigner and a young woman, after all. We had very little in common. But nobody has ever played a piece of music for me like that before.

And I miss X, my best friend there and partner in snack-smuggling crime. She is 19 years old, and a janitor's daughter, and one of the wisest people I have ever met. (She also rides an excellent motorbike, and lent me her hanfu, and we sped through the city giddy with our own daring and trying not to be caught.) We got matching haircuts; she had always wanted to cut her hair like a boy, and was too scared to do it alone. When I left, I told her to stay in touch: she shook her head. She said that some people were meant to know each other for some time, and no more. I think the death of friendship by attrition, by - as Elrond said! - the slow decay of time, is one of the saddest things of all. I deleted Wechat. I don't want to read over the old messages. By having this place - her, and the chestnuts, and the cicadas - as a memory, I can tuck it away it. I can keep it close.

I wrote a poem myself on the plane. That was the last I thought about China, the last thought I let myself have, in eight months. I kept myself away from it. It felt like a wound. And against that hollowness, there was constantly the question: Why should I have any right to miss this place? Who I am there? Why does it matter? We are all different people, wherever we go, and whoever we are with; we wear different skins, large or small. In China I was [...]. She was who I was. That name, that I introduced myself to people with - she was bright and friendly and tried to translate things just so. Everybody who goes as the only foreigner to a place - or the only foreigner that speaks the language - is a little bit self-obsessed. It happens. It's unfortunate, and something to guard against. But it also gives you its own kind of identity in a way: your identity is Foreigner. Your identity is a cultural bridge. Everyone you meet, in a country as friendly and curious as China, has questions about you. You stand with your feet in both worlds, and are not really part of either of them. That identity is easy to slip into, like cool water, like trying on new clothes. It's easier that thinking: who am I outside of that? Where am I going? I don't really know. I don't think anyone really does.

And then the second thing happens. I speak Chinese well, by this point. My accent is there, but it's slight. I am short, and have dark hair, and a generally similar build to many East Asians - so the questions I have got in the last few years have changed. Sometimes people think I have been raised here. Sometimes they think I am ethnically Russian, and nationally Chinese. Sometimes I get asked if I am half Chinese. Usually they know I am a Foreigner, 100% white - but not always. There is a peculiar rush that comes from that acceptance; from feeling the relief, just for fifteen minutes, that you belong. It's not about 'passing', or race-bending, or anything twisted - it's nothing so unnerving as that. It's just the human need to belong. Everyone gets tired of being stared at, after a while. And after a while, you start to think - I wish I understood. I wish they understood. I wish this were easy.

But then the conversation keeps going. You don't know a local word, or you misunderstand. You say something in a strange way, or you make a strange gesture, and the glass shatters, and - there you are again, naked again, exhausted again, explaining yourself again. That's the other half of it. There's solace in the Foreigner identity, because that means that's all you are. You don't have to think about your parents, or whether they worry about you so far from home; of course they do. The Foreigner is good and filial and a wonderful daughter. You can craft her into any shape you like. But it also marks you out again and again, endlessly and again, as Other.

There was a paper published a while ago that showed measures of acceptance of non-natives in native-speaking communities. It highlights a strange, but familiar experience to those who have lived abroad - the people who spoke the language to a medium level felt more accepted and less lonely than those that spoke the language to a high degree. It makes sense, and mirrors what I have found with both Chinese and German. When you speak a little Chinese, you are a wonder - a curiousity! Look at the Western girl go! People are kind, and curious, and will slow down to include you in conversations. You are thrilled with what you can access - all this knowledge, that other people don't have! Look how special you are!

And then you get better. And then you realise, cut by cut, that you will never be one of them. You don't want to be Chinese, per se; but you do want to be accepted. You are happy to be British; but you miss China like a wound, an old one, festering, even when it was never yours. How do you tell your family that you are not grieving a lost romance, a beautiful girl, but a language and a life? That there are words of majesty, of playfulness, that will never be yours? You speak well enough that people no longer bother to dumb things down, or explain them; you sit with your discomfort, smile painted on, because - you know. It's not bad. You understand most of it. And on the edge of that circle, smiling uncertainly, following the vast majority of what is being said, you are not clever enough and not witty enough to keep up with the chengyu, the cultural references, the slang, and the raucous laughter around you erupts, and you don't know what you've missed, and everybody says - she's quiet, that one. Maybe all the foreigners are? And all you are doing is sitting and feeling the distance between You and Them as heavy and as stifled in your chest as an ocean of dark.

So you go back. Back to your people. But when you sit with the other foreigners, you are apart. They laugh; what are these nutters doing? The Chinese don't make any sense. The Chinese do this - they do that. You sit there, and then there is a pressure building in your chest too, a discomfort, the desire to stand up and say - well, actually.

You are responsible for everything the Chinese teachers do, and have to explain things in a way that the students understand - Confucian thought, and Buddhist philosophy, translated in pithy bite-size adages for the West. You have no qualifications for this; everything you assert, you feel unsure. Uncertain. Someone else could explain it better, more nuanced, and you need to do more reading anyway - but here you are, and here they are, and you're the only one. And you do know. Not enough, but enough that their jokes, their pains, make you uncomfortable. You feel the need to defend both parties; to be a diplomat, every second of every day. In turn, when the students come to the teachers with problems, you have to translate their grievances in a way that the Chinese teachers will be sympathetic towards. Once I got asked: why do you never join us after class? Why are you always so quiet when you're not working? As a translator, you are always working. Every time you speak, you are working; what you choose to say, and what you choose to not say, and where you choose to intervene. You are building relationships, and disappearing, and you are becoming invisible, and you're a nothing, and you're everyone and you're nobody and nobody realises you are doing anything more than translating at all.

I wanted to stay. I couldn't have stayed. I wanted to be accepted as one of them. I wanted to be accepted for who I was. That means a foreigner. I wanted to be true to myself, which means that I would always be the Foreigner, which means I would always be apart from them. It is that contrast and juxtaposition which causes the grief. And there was never an ending to it, a resolution, a chance to reconcile myself (in China) with myself (in the UK), because all at once I had to leave. The grief comes most from the second arrow - not the pain of leaving, but the bewilderment of not knowing why I was in pain at all.

It's been eight months. Slowly, as spring comes, I feel like I am on surer ground. I can look at my old books, those painstaking notes, and I could look at new ones too and I'm starting to think, because this is what I tell my students, and maybe there's some truth in it - it's okay if you're not perfect. It's okay if you didn't achieve what you wanted to, and that the language - in its wholeness, and who can ever know that? - will never, not quite, be yours. It's the struggle and the process that means that I will know and understand Chinese in a different way, in my own way, in a slanted-to-reality sort of way, that is a treasure in and of itself. There is beauty in its brokenness too.

And there is sorrow, too. The sorrow that comes with easing yourself into a different life, and it holding you gently for a while. I sat there - I spoke to them. It's not only missing a place; it's missing a person you were, a stage of your life, for a time. It's knowing that a place has reached inside your ribs and taken root there - even if you don't return, you can never fully get rid of that again. You are two people now, with feet straddling two oceans. There are parts of you that loved and suffered and hated and grew in Chinese, not English. You can't explain that. You can't even begin. Sometimes - not often - you are a stranger in your own land. The poets spoke of that. In the age of fast travel, of the weekend break, we have forgotten the ways a place can burrow itself inside you, and find its own home.

It's not the same as the grief that someone Chinese will face. But it's still grief. I have put my life into Chinese. Maybe that is all it takes to grow love.

Now, I turn back to Chinese - as a foreigner, as Melissa, as myself. It's a bittersweet thing. I know that I cannot hold all of it. It will spill out, like the sun, and there is no way I can be that without losing myself and my history and my own green woods. But I think I am ready now. I am surer, and a little steadier on my feet.

[words-of-wolf]

Having some Thoughts once more.

Specifically thinking about self-policing identity. Obviously policing others is a huge issue in the alterhuman and adjacent communities, but setting up my soap box here to talk about how we internalise the need to police identity.

Putting a cut here because god do I need to stop writing these walls of text that people then have to scroll past for eternity even if they're not interested in reading it asjdkhjksah !!

When I was a teen, I saw otherkin and therians self-policing and I respected them. I thought they were really strong for doing that; I thought it was necessary, and that the only way we could ever be accepted as a community is if we leaned hard into minimising our experiences, making things "palatable". It wasn't a conscious belief, but it was very present.

So that's what I emulated. Any discussion of my experiences, or my feelings, usually would get a lot of reassurances sprinkled in there: "this is just my beliefs", "it's okay if you don't believe this too", "I know this sounds far-fetched", "this is just my internal identity".

I thought that made me sound reasonable and respectable. Maybe it even did.

But nowadays, I see people doing this kind of thing - minimising their experiences, adding disclaimers, policing themselves - and mostly it just makes me feel sad for them. Not in a condescending way, cause I've been there, I know how it feels to believe you've gotta make yourself sound "reasonable" to be respected. But I don't feel respect for that attitude, it just makes me sad.

And now, I'm here growing into a version of myself where I finally start to feel like I'm an adult, and I finally start to feel like I'm myself in a way unhindered by that constant fear and self-regulation, and I can see plain as day how much the self-policing doesn't actually work.

Cause you could present the weirdest, most outlandish identity possible to someone, but if you don't make a big deal out of it they probably won't either. Casual but unapologetic is, I think, the best way to go. You don't always have to hide yourself. (Obviously, take time to judge your situation first, but, same goes for most things outside of "the norm").

But presenting yourself as some vulnerable thing who has to placate any aggression before it even happens - well, that just makes people uncomfortable, and the mean ones will single you out as a target for it more than they'd do with someone who's just kinda "whatever" about the whole situation.

And the same thing goes for if you have an identity that feels weird by alterhuman standards, y'know? Chill but unapologetic will get you far. You'll feel more comfortable in yourself, too. Cause when everything you say is minimised, you can start to internalise that too - and it can make you feel like embracing your identity wholeheartedly is a bad thing, or like your own perception of self should have the same uncertainty to it that your descriptions of it do.

I think... the desire and impulse to self-police and minimise is not something you can just "switch off". But I hope reading this can get the ball rolling for those of you out there who struggle with this in the same way I did!

You don't need to police yourself. You don't need to censor yourself.

Doing this doesn't help the community, and it doesn't increase our standing and validity in the eyes of people on the outside. At best, it does nothing; at worst, it makes us seem uncertain, nervous, and an easy target.

And doing this hurts yourself. It affects things in ways that are hard to even see, but take it from someone who's experienced it: these feelings can pierce so, so deep.

You don't need to apologise for who you are. I don't care how "weird" your identity or experiences are - it's you, it's who you are, nobody can touch that. And if you're genuine about it, people will accept you for it, and sometimes gravitate towards you, even; particularly the others who feel the same way, who are the "weird ones" among the weirdos.

Cause when you're unapologetic, when you're genuine in a way that's not flavoured by fear, you kinda... become a safe space. You create an atmosphere around you that gives other people permission to do the same. To just be themselves, without the uncertainty and fear.

And that's really special! It's important.

[wing-dingy]

Remember when I said I wasn't gonna post fanfics? I lied. I'm gonna post just this one as an excuse to have some Johnshi in my life but also because its rare I write a fic that isnt a self indulgent oc fic

This is just a lil fic where Kenshi comforts Johnny after a stunt on set leaves him with an injured ankle, mostly cute banter. Also sorry if the formatting looks weird, i dont normally post fics to tumblr so idk how to space my paragraphs like I do on google docs.

Click. Step. Click. Step.

The Hollywood actor carried himself on his crutches across the room, from the door to his living room couch, where he saw Kenshi waiting in anticipation.

“Honey, I'm home,” Johnny announced in a parody of those old movies, how he loved his dumb movie references.

“Doesn't sound like good news. Are those crutches?” Kenshi asked, judging by the sound and the patterns of the sound. Though he usually relied on Sento for sight, he hardly ever felt the need to in a casual setting, so it rested in the mantle above the fireplace.

“Yeup. Doc says I'll need ‘em for a few weeks, a month at most.”

Kenshi crossed his arms and leaned back on the couch. “Was that stunt still worth it?”

Johnny snorted, “Totally, the shot came out perfect! You may not know this, but I do all of my own stunts. Impresses everybody when I tell them that!” He dropped a small paper bag of his prescribed painkillers on the coffee table and sat next to Kenshi, wincing as he lifted his ankle to rest it on the same table.

“Aren't stuntmen used so the real actors don't get hurt?”

“I mean- yeah. But don't worry, they're just gonna film everything else until I come back, which should be in no time. I'm just built different.”

Kenshi could just hear the cocky smile, causing him to shake his head in disbelief, but he couldn't hold back the small bit of laughter at Johnny’s pride and confidence. “Alright, but it looks like it's my turn to take care of you again.”

“Don't sweat it, Ken doll, I can take care of myself. You've already helped me enough, and you've got yourself to look after,” He noted all too seriously. Obviously there still rested some guilt in his heart over Mileena's rabid attack that day.

“That ankle needs to rest. That movie needs you and you need the money from it.” Undeniable. Johnny was still getting back on his feet (not literally now) after a messy and expensive divorce, he needed whatever work he could get at the moment. “You just let me know when you need something.”

Johnny sighed as he looked down at his injured ankle. These next few weeks were going to be the most boring while of his life.

Kenshi seemed to know Johnny wasn't feeling so good by the sudden quietness, not even a silly request from his offer. When Johnny of all people was quiet, there was a problem. “Johnny? You alright?”

“Yeah… I've just never been good at sitting still and doing nothing, you know? Now I can't even use my own pool in my living room,” He complained, as if having a pool in the living room was a normal thing.

“Come on, Johnny, you still have a whole mansion. Unless your attention span really is that small, you're not gonna get bored,” Kenshi lovingly poked at him. “It’s not like you're alone either.”

Johnny noded with a small smile of comfort. “That's right, I've got you, my best friend, boyfriend, and assigned FBI agent,” Johnny joked. Gods, not again with the assigned FBI agent meme. “And hey, maybe we can invite Kung Lao and Raiden over to hang out. You think Liu Kang would wanna drop by?”

Kenshi gave an amused smirk. “Probably not, but Kung Lao, might.”

Johnny looked down at the table again, spotting a marker. He groaned and wheezed as he leaned over to grab it, trying not to move his ankle off the table as his finger tips barely touched the marker.

“Johnny what are you-” Before he could finish his question, he felt a marker tapping against his hand.

“You wanna be the first to sign my cast?” Johnny offered, trying to play it off cool but his excitement was slipping past in his voice.

“You mean Hollywood’s megastar wants my autograph?” Kenshi teased. He took the marker into his hand, and Johnny guided his hand down to his cast. Confidently, Kenshi began writing his name.

“Not bad writing for someone who can't really see,” Johnny complimented, meaning it obviously and trying to make it sound like that rather than a mockery.

“I still know the motions of writing, that's enough to get by.” Of course Johnny hadn't seen Kenshi's messier writing at his job and maybe it should stay that way.

The real surprise was the small heart he drew right below his own name. Kenshi wasn't so into PDA, nor into cutesy stuff like that, so it caught Johnny off guard to see the small display. It wasn't like people didn't know they were dating, Johnny was way too into showing off their love and too loud to keep that secret, but it was rather that Kenshi was a more subtle lover when it came to their relationship, preferring to keep things behind doors. Still, it was a nice surprise, and at least now it made the cast way better to look at! Of course Johnny was already pulling out his phone to snap a photo of it to post to his socials.

“You're posting your cast, aren't you?” Kenshi reasonably accused.

“Gotta let the fans know production might be on hold.”

“Is that it? Or are you bragging about us again?”

Johnny snickered, meaning Kenshi was right. “Okay, you got me, but how can I not show you off? You're the coolest! A blind swordsman? Dating Hollywood's biggest hit? We're like a power couple!”

If Kenshi still had his eyeballs, he'd be lovingly rolling them, but admittedly it was kind of cute seeing how enthusiastic Johnny was about their relationship- and kind of funny to think about considering they were previously rivals over Sento.

Kenshi leaned in to press a kiss to Johnny's cheek, and he could feel the wrinkles of a smile under his lips. “Looks like you're feeling better about that ankle.”

“As long as I have you by my side, this injury is gonna be a breeze!” Now it was Johnny's turn to lean in, this time leaning to rest his head on Kenshi with closed eyes and a content smile. Kenshi reciprocated by wrapping an arm around Johnny to hold him. “Shit, that medicine they gave me is starting to catch up.”

“You get sleepy off of a couple Tylenols,” Kenshi playfully quipped, making Johnny laugh.

“Just saying it's a good excuse to nap on you! Unless you're gonna tele-fling me to bed again.”

Kenshi shook his head. “Maybe when your ankle isn't as broken. Right here is fine, just keep your ankle up.”

“Sweet,” Johnny happily murmured as he felt himself starting to doze off. Damn, Tylenol really did knock him out.

[tripleglitchwriting]

Ignition (Short 1)

CW: mostly fluff, mentions of war (both human and cybertronian)

Because I accidentally set the poll to a week rather than a day, I’m going to bridge the gap with a short story.

This is set shortly after part 4 because I like writing dialogue.

After the initial heart attack that was the last 48 hours or so, you began to feel more comfortable with this giant alien. He was kind, which was something you figured out after he saved your life, and he assured you he wasn’t going to kill you.

Now you were cupped in his hands while he walked back to this pod of his.

“So, what’s this pod thing we’re going to? Is it like a space ship?”

“Escape pod.” Ratchet remembered the crash. Well, he remembered what he could of it. Suddenly an old worry popped into his head.

“Right, right, escape pod.”

“Your injury, it wasn’t from… the crash, was it?”

“Oh, no, I fell down a cliff. It sounds stupid when I say it out loud.” Ratchet stifled an ex-vent of relief. “I was on a hike but I got lost, and then I started to panic because I don’t know how to survive in the wild, and then I panicked too hard and tripped in the worst spot imaginable.”

“You went out into an unknown area with no experience on how to survive there or any contingency plan if things went wrong?” He said with a mix of worry and vague frustration.

“Well there was a path… but there was also cool flowers off the path, and then I saw a rare bird, and then the path was gone. I really don’t know why I thought it would be a good idea to come out here, I should have known better. I was doing fine at home I just… I don’t know.”

“Does your kind usually do things like this?”

“No, not really. Just me.”

“I see. Are you… no offense, but are you the dominant species on this planet?”

“What? I mean, I guess, we’re the only ones that can talk and all. That we know of. Actually, it would probably be a shock to the world if they found out about you. Knowing us we’d probably start attacking or something.”

“Attack? Why would you do that?”

“Well, I mean, I wouldn’t, but I’ve taken enough history classes to know as a whole we can be… violent. I hope no one else saw you crash, things could get nasty if they see you as a threat.”

“Thats… quite primitive.”

“Oh, gee thanks.”

“No offense.”

“Probably should have led with that.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” Ratchet hummed to himself for a second, and then he began to think out loud. “If they do find me at least I’ll be able to get away…”

“What makes you think that?”

“Well- I- I wouldn’t think your technology is exactly…”

“Not up to par with your superior standards? Well don’t worry about that. We have weapons that can wipe out the world in a span of hours. Every country has their hand over the big red launch button, and if they see you as too much to handle, somebody is going to get blown up.”

“What? That’s- that’s crazy! You mean to say your leaders would sacrifice… how ever many there are of you in a given area just to take me out?”

“They probably wouldn’t do straight to the nuclear option for one of you, but if there were more and they were killing people, then probably yeah. If things work like they do in the movies that is.” Ratchet paused, about to make some snide remark about the primitive violence of the human race, but he stopped when he remembered the history of his own people.

“…I’ll keep myself hidden then.”

“Oh, um, good. I wasn’t really expecting you to accept that so fast.”

“If my own history were any different I might not have.” He sank deeper into thought. “Doe, is there a medical station anywhere near here I can drop you off at?”

“Wait, I thought we were going to your pod?”

“We are, I just… I got caught up in healing you and… look, I’ll be honest, I don’t want you to get hurt. How many of you are there on this planet?”

“I- I don’t know, 7, maybe 8 billion?”

“Billio- scrap.”

“What? What’s wrong?”

“It’s fine, it’s nothing. Let’s just… talk about something else.”

“Well, alright I guess.” After you said that, both you and Ratchet stayed silent for an agonizingly awkward minute. You felt the sway of him walking waft through your entire body, a feeling you haven’t even began to get used to. He seemed largely unaware of this, at least to your knowledge, and instead looked forward with a serious expression.

“How about we talk about… the weather. It certainly is sunny today! And there are… uh, a couple clouds… wait, no that’s just a weird tree.”

“You aren’t great at small talk.”

“How about you try then?”

“…no.”

“Oh I see how it is. Fine, you’ll just have to deal with my terrible communication skills.” You took a deep breath, preparing to go on a rant about whatever was on your mind.

“Oh please don’t.”

“Unless you’re going to say something I will.”

“Alright, alright. What do you want me to talk about?”

“That’s up to you, conversation expert.” You smiled smugly up at him. He huffed in return.

For the next five minutes he talked about his life up to this point. His friends, his enemies, glossing over assumedly painful details. In your mind a picture started to form about all of this. He wasn’t just an alien, he was a person. A person with real relationships, real love and loss, real war, real family. You felt silly having not seen it before.

A friend. You’d like to think that’s what you were now, though it was tough to tell based on the way he acted. You wondered who all of his other friends could be, where they were, and you even went as far as to silently wish them well.

Arriving back at the pod, hopping off the hand of a giant alien that saved you from dying the woods, you realized this may have been more than you bargained for.

[archerlullaby]

There aren’t enough TOTK comes back to the Chain fics out there so I figured I would write one. Hurt/Comfort, some angst, and some self-worth doubts. TOTK Link needs a hug tbh. Also, This is a Zelda slander fic, though I don’t directly hate her she kinda gets on my nerves in totk. MY BOI IS JUST SO TIRED LET HIM SLEEP PLZ.

Weariness and Worth

He was just so damn tired. He tried to be patient. He tried to put on the “Hero Façade”. But his resolve had begun to splinter with each passing moment alongside the princess.

He dragged his feet to the nearest cooking pot as Zelda strode purposefully up the Lookout Landing staircase. As soon as she got her wits about her after falling from the sky, she vehemently insisted that Purah is the first one she needed to see. It had only been a few hours since he had dragged her out of that lake, his body aching from his fight against the literal incarnate of evil, and the first thing she focused on was how she was home. How she needed to talk to Purah. How she needed a change of clothes. How she, who was a dragon for 10,000 years thank you very much, would like a good, hearty, home cooked meal, so Link, could you whip something up while I talk to Purah, please and thank you? He sighed, and all but collapsed at the edge of the fire, eyes starting to close of their own accord. The others in Lookout Landing all but ignored him, the Princess taking up all the attention while she smiled and waved as the individuals around her practically worshiped the ground she walked on.

“You look pretty worn out there son,” the elderly stablemaster chuckled, startling Link out of his stupor. This old man was the only one not rushing to greet the princess, and is instead settled a couple yards away from the cooking pot, his gnarled walking stick leaning against the inside of his knee. Link did his best to give him a smile, but only came up with a strangled-looking grimace. In the very least, he was grateful somebody at least acknowledged him. The stablemaster sighed.

“If only I was younger, maybe I’d have a chance with the young lady. I used to be something of a hero myself back in the day. Now all I got are my horses and these old bones!” He laughed, rapping a knuckle against his knee. “You are one lucky young man!”

Link’s grimace turned into a scowl. Yet again was he fooled into thinking someone cared about him. How naive of him. He stood and turned away from the old man, taking the Purah Pad from his hip. After stoking the fire, he decided on meat and rice balls. However while flicking absentmindedly through the Purah Pad for ingredients, he felt a very deep, sharp ache slam into his ribs. The pain gnawed at him like a wild beast, quickly buckling his knees and knocking the wind out of his lungs as his butt hit the ground. He gingerly felt around his chest, and came to the conclusion that becoming a dragon’s chew toy probably wasn’t the healthiest thing for ribs. He chuckled darkly. At least his shining sense of humor survived. The amusement was short lived, however, and tears pricked the corner of his eyes when he realized he used all his healing potions during the fight against Ganondorf, and that nobody, not even the stablemaster a stride away, cared enough to come to his aid. Everyone was so enthralled with that Princess. He fought the urge to bury his face in his arms and cry because he’s the Hero, the Chosen One, the Sworn Protecter of the Crown. Instead, he gathered himself quietly, stood, clipped the Purah Pad back to his hip, and hobbled out the southern gate without barely a glance towards the gathered crowd.

It had been an hour when he finally stopped walking, or rather, when his legs gave out and he flopped to the grass. The sun was just touching the western edge of the world, dew and darkness creeping into Hyrule Field as crickets began to sing. He knew he should go somewhere safer, somewhere where the wolves and the monsters wouldn’t catch his scent, but he could hardly keep his eyes open, and the smell of the earth and grass was so encompassing that he couldn’t bring himself to care about the danger. So instead, he closed his eyes and peacefully listened to the sounds of the coming night. That is, until his thoughts caught up to him. Coward, they called him. Abandoning duty for some pitiful, self-absorbed notion that he should be recognized, awarded, for accomplishing that for which he was destined to accomplish. These thoughts swirled through his head and screamed in his ears until he thought he would be deafened by the voices themselves.

That is, until the familiar and oh-so-welcome sound of time and space being torn open met his ears. Link blearily stumbled to his feet, and was met with the sight of a portal suspended in air just to his right. It couldn’t be. It shouldn’t be. He’s Link, he doesn’t get this type of fortune in his life. He felt like he could cry as he tripped over his feet and fell just a step away from the entrance, the burn in his side stealing away his breath. He only paused for a moment as he considered what this meant. He would disappear again, the people of Hyrule clueless as to where he went. Zelda clueless as to where he went. He bit back a bitter smile. She’ll just have to find him this time. Perhaps it was cruel, but he found that he couldn’t bring himself to care. So, on his hands and knees he dragged himself to the very edge and lurched through the swirling colors.

It was so warm, so gentle, so peaceful to just lie floating in the darkness. This didn’t feel like the icy cold waters of the shrine of resurrection, nor was it similar to the dark and damp cave he woke up in on the sky islands. No, this felt like a warm, thick wool blanket wrapped itself around his body, a soft embrace. Perhaps it was the downy feathers of the soft bed in Rito Village. Or maybe, Link mused, this was the water bed at the Seabed Inn in the Zora Domain. Sidon had spoke about a warming technology for the beds Kayden was trying to develop. Whatever it was, Link wanted to stay in it forever. Unfortunately, this peace was cut short.

“Cub? Wild, please look at me.” A familiar voice cut through the fog as he started to come around. His body changed from warmth to and almost refreshingly cool, as if aloe had been spread over a burn. A gentle magic encompassed him, one that was similar to Mipha’s, though less like a bubbling stream and more like that of the sun in the deep woods. He sighed, and snuggled further into the comfort that called to him. “Cub. CUB. Link!” Something tickled his nose, and it quickly pulled him away from soft darkness and into an irritating light. He blinked his eyes open all the way and was met with the welcome sight of a face donning a single black mark upon his forehead.

“Twi?” He muttered, voice raspy from lack of use.

“Oh, Wild, what happened to you?” Twilight asked, voice thick with emotion. Wild opened his mouth to reply before Twilight shook his head. “It doesn’t matter right now. All that matters is that you’re okay.”

“Damn right. You fell through that portal and straight into Time’s lap. You’re lucky he wasn’t wearing his armor. You would’ve ended up with a concussion to add to your broken ribs!” Several chuckles came from the group, and a hearty laugh rang from Warriors. Hyrule, with his hands alighted on Wild’s side, looked pleased with his joke. Twilight merely shook his head and brushed his hand through Wild’s bangs. Wild had a thought to bat the hand away, but the worrying felt so good, so needed, that he found himself leaning into the touch, and, as Twilight continued his ministrations, Wild couldn’t help the tears that began to leak from the corner of his eyes for a second time that day. He brushed them away quickly and palmed his eyes.

“Sorry. M’fine,” he said gruffly, “Help me get up please.”

Twilight opened his mouth to protest, but Wild was already trying to shuffle himself out of Time’s lap when large hands, one on his forehead and the other on his shoulder, gently pushed him back down.

“Rest, Wild. You have no need to push yourself now. Your family is here to care for you,” Time’s voice rumbled from his chest, soft but demanding.

“But—”

“No arguing.”

Wild relented, and settled back into Time’s embrace, eyes feeling heavier than he would like to admit. Though despite the welcoming tendrils of sleep that curled around his consciousness, he couldn’t find it within himself to give in, not yet.

“What’s the matter, Cub?” Twilight still knelt next to him and Time while the others had begun to set out their bedrolls. Wild merely shook his head.

“It’s just-” he swallowed, “I’m afraid if I fall asleep, everyone will be gone when I wake up,” he whispered, embarrassment turning his head and closing his eyes so the others couldn’t see his face. “That always happens to me.”

He shouldn’t be saying this. He’s the Hero. The Savior of Hyrule. He doesn’t get to show weakness. Wild doesn’t want to open his eyes and see what surely must be disappointment on Time’s face, or disgust in Twilight’s eyes. Only a gentle warmth along his side breaks him from his thoughts. He looks down hesitantly and is met with the wide eyes of Wind, who has taken residence tucked along Wild’s hip, an arm thrown across his chest. The youngest gave him the biggest smile he could muster.

“It’s okay to be scared. I promise I’ll stay right here until you wake up in the morning. Even if you snore,” Wind said, and snuggled closer into his side. Time shifted, lying down close as Twilight tucks his pelt under Wild’s head.

“We all will,” the eldest reassured. It was only then Wild allowed himself a small smile. The doubts still ate at him, but they were lessening in their ferocity. The tiredness he felt before settled deep in his bones, an exhaustion so deep it slowed his breathing and finally closed his eyes, and finally, finally, he could sleep.

[burr-ell]

Genuine question bc i always psyche myself out of writing due to this exact fear, how do we differentiate and avoid Shallow Angst when we pursue writing character studies? Situational angst seems straight forward where it's like oh no character got Hurt and now needs to be Comforted (the "plot" seems out to get this dude hurt and everyone centers on said dude with little other exploration), but say we did want to look at canon grief, using Vex as the example; what is the good way and what is the bad way to explore it? When do we go too far into excluding the rest of the story?

So I had conversations with @blorbologist and @essayofthoughts about this very thing, and what it basically boils down to is this: are you looking at these emotions realistically, taking into consideration the massive spectrum of how these characters interact with them and attempting to push past your own limited perspective of how feelings work, or are you just using them as a vessel to convey how you feel about something or what you think should happen?

Because there are plenty of very good fanworks that involve angst! Angst is, in simple terms, the examination of anxiety, dread, and sadness, and that absolutely has a place in the creation of art. Well-written angst attempts to find the character's voice in it all—it considers how they've dealt with emotions like that in canon, it asks what real-life expressions of grief or sorrow make sense for that character to convey based on their personality and past history, and as all good fanworks (and original works) do, it comes from a desire to understand someone who is not like you.

Take the example of Vex:

How would Vex deal with the loss of Vax? Based on what we know about her, I think it's safe to say that yes, she would be leaning a lot on Percy and Trinket, burying herself in her work some days to avoid the worst of it, but there are also days she'd be avoiding Percy, and maybe even Trinket, to go off on her own. I think she'd hold resentment toward the Raven Queen, even as I think she'd also want to keep the shrine standing in Vax's memory and actively push herself to forgive her. It would be complicated even further by her pregnancy, and all of the hormonal imbalances and physical complications that would entail. It would be complicated even further by the fact that she and Syldor canonically attempt to reconcile specifically in the wake of Vax's death; while I doubt they'd see much of each other in the first year or two, I think they would both be making incredibly awkward and loaded overtures that would be emotionally complicated and draining.

There are times she would lash out and times she would be hollow, and there's a lot she probably wouldn't be able to talk about because she just can't, because grief isn't something you can often put into words. There's a lot she'd also laugh and joke and smile about, because coping with loss means letting the wound scab over. There are times she'd be able to connect to Percy and Keyleth over the loss and times she couldn't, because the loss of a loving-but-complicated family and the loss of a lover don't feel quite the same as the loss of a twin who was all you had for over a decade.

There are a lot of ways to convey all that! There's no "right" answer; this is up for interpretation. But I do think "Vex will never braid her hair again cause Vax used to do that!" is definitely a wrong one.

Vex and Vax were codependent, but I think people tend to overstate the degree, and tend to ignore their canonical relationship development and Vex's characterization. I think it's important to note that Vex actually handles being separated from Vax during the Trial of the Take arc much better than Vax handles it; she makes fast friends with Zahra and generally seems to be enjoying herself and having a good time. Vex closes herself off a lot, but I think an underrated part of her speech at Percy's resurrection is how it recontextualizes the titling in Syngorn—he made her a part of something precious to him, and by the end of the campaign her stated goal is "make Whitestone the tits". Vex didn't just like, wind up as a city figurehead by marriage and shrug and decide to make the best of it; she was offered a chance and made it her bitch. The Raven Queen took part of Vex away when she took Vax, not all of her.

Yes, the loss is incredibly tragic and the end of Campaign 1 is bittersweet, but there are ways to portray Vex dealing with it that don't involve the general tenor of "ALRIGHT EVERYONE, DAILY REMINDER TO BE SAD ABOUT VAX". Like, I don't think Vex's first thought when she saw Laudna's body was "she looks just like Vax :( time for my daily Two Minutes Sad". (My issue with that isn't even whether the thought might occur to her—it absolutely could! But after thirty years, I doubt it would have been anywhere near the same level as "this innocent young woman was horribly killed for looking like me and I have to help her however I can; also if Delilah comes back I can should must and will tear her a new asshole". Like, the Vax thing might have come up long in the aftermath of her and Percy's inevitable late-night alcohol-induced therapy railing, but probably not before.)

A lot of the shallow angst you see in fandom generally has the same voice—not necessarily because it's written by the same people (although you do see many of the same people purveying it), but because the trending popular angst has to trend and be popular somehow, and it does so by channeling thoughts and emotional expressions that are broadly approved and accepted by the community, whatever that community happens to be. The characters in these fanworks behave the way that they do regardless of whether or not it makes sense in the narrative because shallow angst isn't about the narrative—it's about making your audience sad in the specific, narrow way that you are sad. It's about projecting yourself and your own emotions and how you would deal with them onto a character instead of trying to really understand someone who's different from you.

In our discussion, Blorb described fanworks in a way that really resonated with me—they're conversations with canon. Good, effective conversations are real attempts to communicate with people, trying to understand where they're coming from and connecting with who they are. Shallow conversations are one or multiple parties only thinking of the other person as a reflection of themselves, getting out their own thoughts and feelings with little interest in trying to figure out who other people actually are. And it's not that I think people who make these kinds of works are ontologically bad; it's that I think they're stifling their own creativity and growth. Everyone deserves better than to be limited to themselves.

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

I know you probably have a whole bunch of requests you’re working on, but I’ve been binging your Masterlist so I’d hate myself if I didn’t ask-

Could you do more of the fake dating trope with confessions or where they got jealous of the reader’s brother when they saw them together?

Honestly I don’t care which characters in general but I’d love if Finral could be one of them.

Thank you for writing!

I do, and this is definitely one of the new ones, but I was enabled into some jealousy/fake dating things, so I had very much creative wind for this. I hope you like it ^^

Pairing: Finral x gn!reader Genre: Hurt-comfort Trope: Fake dating Length: ~1.4k Contains: themes of fake dating, apprehension (Finral), angsty beginning, but a spin and a kiss at the end, so very much a happy ending Song I associate with Finral here

When Yami had placed the two of you onto this mission, where your task was to pretend to be a couple as a part of your disguise, Finral wasn’t sure if he should laugh or cry. Because he knew that Yami-, well, actually, everyone knew, that Finral was a flirt. And maybe that was why he might seem like the perfect choice for this. That he’d seem like he was so enamoured by his beloved that no one would believe that you were there for an undercover operation.

But... the thing was that... he was-, he did have a crush on you. A very deep one.

And while he was trying to bear through the mission the bets he could, while trying to appear as convincing as possible, it felt like... agony. Something so horrid, as if the turmoil of his own emotions were trying to carve him hollow, and leave him with tears in his eyes onto the cold ground, because... because it was just play pretend, right?

You were not there with him.

Or you were there with him in the physical sense of the expression, but not... in the way he wanted you to be there with him.

Not that he thought that you’d be interested in him, like that anyway, oh no. He knew the tango by now. He’d express his sentiments, or his interest, towards someone and they’d tell him off. All fun and games, until he was interested. And because he was a flirt, no one took his interest seriously.

‘Oh it’s just a game to him’. ‘He doesn’t really mean it’. ‘He’s just going after whoever would give him some’.

All the mean words that had been spoken about him. He knew them by heart.

And yet he didn’t stop, because...

...

Because he dared to hope that one day, someone would love him for who he was. That one day, he would be cherished and cared for, and he could do the same in return.

Someday... but not now, not here, because it was just play pretend. A mission.

Smile. Look happy. Take my hand. We’re very much in love. A quarrel maybe? Because no couple is perfect. Only that it ends with smiles and laughter.

Because it’s not real.

It’s absurd, and just for show. So you fight, and you laugh, because none of it is real.

You two laugh, because it’s not real.

Only for him to sit at the floor of the bathroom a couple hours later and stare at the tiles, because... he wants it to be real. He wants it. Aches for it.

...

He needs it to be real.

He needs it to be real as much as any other mortal man who loves can... need to it to be real.

Only that it isn’t.

He knows it.

He acts like it doesn’t bother him.

Only that it does.

And once the mission ends, he goes to do the same thing, stare at the wall of the bathroom with tears in his eyes, and the confession stuck in his throat like a weight that won’t go down, but would rather suffocate him. He sits, and he stares, until Gauche pounds the door and asks what’s taking him so bloody long.

After which he sits up, and wipes the tears away, only to put on the fake smile; pretends it’s all okay. Because... Because that is how it is supposed to be. It is... only that simple. Just a mission. Smoke and mirrors. None of it is real.

Not even your laugh. Or smile. Or... the way you held his hand while whispering into his ear... None of it is real... none of it was real...

Just him, and his hopes and dreams.

Which did not come any easier when he saw you in town, chatting with some guy, and laughing. You smiled and you laughed and you looked happy. Not quite in the same way as you had looked during your dates, but you still looked happy and he... he wanted to be the guy, making you smile and laugh and swirl around and he just... Didn’t know what to do.

Should he just flee with his tail between his legs and ... not do anything about it? Because that was what he usually did when he was shot down. Because he could take the hint. If he wasn’t wanted, he wasn’t wanted and that was that.

But now he... he bit down his teeth. Ground his molars because damn it he didn’t want to just roll over, step aside like that when it was-!

No. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t be turned down before he had, properly, put his bets in. Because... there was... there was no really telling if ... if you’d accept his emotions or not, right? He wasn’t turned down until he was turned down.

So. He swallowed. Held up his head, put on a charming smile, and cast a portal in front of him.

“Yuhuu,” He greeted to you while appearing right next to you through the portal. “There’s something urgent we need to discuss,” he chirped with words, like needled that pricked his throat.

“Oh, I-, uhh...” You managed as he already took you by the hand, and pulled you along, into the woods near the base.

The birds sang so nicely around you, somewhere in the woods that now surrounded you. The sun was shining; filtering through the branches that reached over your heads, and he just... stood there.

“Finral?” You asked, looking around. “This isn’t the base...”

“But I needed to talk to you,” he admitted without daring to look you in the eye.

“About..?”

“About-, the last mission...” his voice was as if a whisper, a hushed tone that held an essence of being forced in it.

“What... about it?”

And he... lifted his chin to look at the skies.

Just looked, and wondered for a while about what he should say. Or how to say it.

“About how...” he began, but hesitated. Because this was it, right? He’d lay his heart on the line, and see how far that’d take him. “I was hoping... through it that I wouldn’t be... just for the mission.”

There was another pause, during which you frowned, and waited for him to continue, which he did.

“Because I am... I think I am in love with you,” his head fell, and his eyes were staring into the grass under you. “And throughout the mission I was... hoping that we wouldn’t be pretending. That I could really hold your hand and take you out on a date that you deserve and I just... I want to make you smile and laugh and ... and joke about anything and everything, so... I...” his voice faded into silence, which was overpowered by the singing of the birds, and the rustling of the blades of grass...

It was as if the world, and time, was standing still.

Until... you took his hand.

You took his hand, and held it with a gentle touch. As if he was a fragile flower, or a leaf about to be caught into the wind.

His chin lifted up, and he looked at you with fear and hope and uncertainty and anticipation.

“I wish...” you started, eyes lifting to his, little by little, “that you would have told me that sooner.”

His mind went blank.

“We could have had much more fun during that mission then,” you tried to joke.

“So you...?”

“I think... I-, I love you too...”

There was a second. Or two. During which he stared, tried to take it all in. Until he dived closer, wrapped his arms around you, only to spin you around amidst the tress, the sunshine and the symphony of songbirds.

He lowered you down, and looked into your eyes; so deep that it felt as if he was trying to see into your soul, and pressed his lips against yours.

The kiss tasted like cherries and something sweet, almost like honey; or perhaps... it was the hope for the future that tasted so sweet.

[ieatsaltychildren]

REPLACED

Obey me x replaced!reader

I did use she/her pronouns in this. Theres not a ton of dialogue and was honestly part of a vent💀 Remember that I’m in no way trying to romanticize any of this.

TW!- mentions of an eating disorder, suicide, overdose, death, probs OOC, angst no comfort.

Some songs I listened to while writing this- Rock Bottom-Eminem, The way I am-Eminem, 4 morant- doja cat, Alone-doja cat, 25 to life-eminem. Literally these on repeat😭

Life is hard. We all know this, but why did this have to happen? Why did she have to come along and take them away? Why did they choose to leave me?

I shouldn’t have trusted them. The one time i let my guard down and this happens. Mila, the bitch who took them away. I was nice to her, i tried to be her friend, i wanted to get to know her but apparently she only wanted to see my downfall and the brothers kneeling for her.

I don’t like talking about when she first came, but for the backstory i will. Diavolo thought it would be a good idea to invite another human to be an exchange student. At first i was overjoyed. I wanted to have another human girl to talk to and relate to, but once she showed up everything went wrong. She started framing me for shit she did, and i just stood there and took the scolding i got.

Eventually all the brothers just went to her and ignored me. They only talk to me if they need something done or they yell at me. I still always try to get them to love me, yet i always fail.

She even was able to get the angels, royals, Solomon, mephisto, and even Thirteen and Raphael on her side. Everyone left me. Every day is just a repeat. Wake up late most days, have lucifer remind me of how much of a failure i am, skip breakfast, go to classes, probably skip lunch, go to classes, go back to hol, force myself to eat dinner, eat dinner in my room, and sleep. Every day. Theres nothing to be excited about when i wake up anymore. No more hanging out with mammon, no more being levis player two, no more sleepovers with asmodeus. The only one who remotely cared about me was barbatos. Maybe he could help me get back to the human world but it wouldn’t be any better.

What hurt most was mammon, my first man leaving me. He swore. He fucking swore that he would always love me yet he still left me. We weren’t even dating so why does it have to hurt so much.

Even fucking beelzebub. He always acts so sweet but he left to. They all did. Maybe its good mila came along. She showed me that they weren’t trustworthy. It still hurts though.

I just want it all to be over with. If liliths not gonna kill me then I’ll do it myself.

My lifes been shit anyways. It never got better. It sucks to always wake up stressed. It sucks to always be hoping and praying that ill just die. Mila coming along and replacing me just added onto it.

I have attempted at my life multiple times since she came. Never has it worked. But maybe that will change soon. Maybe that will change tonight. I wonder how long it would take them to even notice, they didn’t notice my failed attempts so why would they notice a successful one. I wonder how they would react, the royals, angels, every single one of them. I already know mila would be happy. Maybe they would feel the same.

The laughter of the brothers and mila snaps me out of my daze. It reminds me of the short lived happiness i once had. The happiness i wish i still had. But soon it would all be over. Once the pills fully kick in I’ll finally be happy.

I have tried overdosing before. It didn’t work last time but it should work now. I have a good feeling. Or maybe thats just the drugs. I didn’t even write a goodbye note to them yet. It’s fine though.

Hearing their laughter in my final moments hurt but felt so good at the same time. It’s kicking in. It’s finally working. Ill be free.

My vision got blurry. I could only hear a distorted version of their voices that eventually faded out. Then it all went black. Its the end

Im free

———————————————————————

It had been a few days since you died. No one knew until 4 days had passed. Mammon needed to borrow money from you for diavolo knows what.

He knocked on your door “Y/nnn, open up I need to ask ya somethin”

No response

He knocked again and yelled “y/n?”

No response

So he went to tell lucifer. I don’t know if he intended on telling on you or was concerned. Probably the first option.

“Lucifer, y/n won’t open her door”

“What do you want me to do about it?” Lucifer sighed sick of his brother’s shit.

“I just need to get some grimm from her”

“Just go in. She’s probably just sleeping”

“Fine then” mammon replied starting to walk out the door.

As he approached your door he got a certain nervous feeling. He just ignored it, nothing bad could happen, right? Wrong.

As soon as he opened your door he saw you dead on the floor, drug bottle in hand.

He stood there frozen. How could this happen?? He was supposed to protect you. He was your first man. He hopes you were just passed out but deep down he knew.

He ended up calling for his brothers. This is the one time they really actually looked at you in months, hell almost a year. Mila was happy, as expected but she covered it up with tears.

Soon solomon, the royals, and angels showed up. Raphael, thirteen, and mephisto even showed up.

They all realized how shitty they treated you. They realized how badly they fucked up.

———————————————————————

I might honestly make another ending where y/n keeps pushing and ends up fucking mila up or goes back to the human world and tries to get her shit straight. Im not sure tho. Might do how they would react too y/n dying AND where you went after you died. I wrote this for 3 hours straight😭😭😭 my hands are cramping

MAYBE THE END

[floralifetime]

Toruk Makto’s Sister

Warning: very bad writing, maybe some gramatical error (English is not my first language, so please be gentle), angst, death of a major charapter, grief, bad words.

Next Chapter

⚠️⚠️The sentence is not mine, credits go to the author⚠️⚠️

Chapter n.1 Goodbye Tommy, I love you.

"The pain suffered at your death is the price for having loved you so much in life"

I still can't believe it happened, Tommy my beloved older brother, is dead. He was treacherously killed by a thief who tried to steal his wallet, given my career in the military I shouldn't be so hurt by someone leaving, I mean, death happens every day from various causes, not all natural, but it's also true that you never really worry about something like this until it affects your loved ones. We were three, now we are only two. Too bad Jakey is on Earth, while I'm on Pandora, not exactly around the corner and so I find myself alone. "Y/N are you here? Can we come in?"

No, not really alone, there's my best friend Trudy and my pseudo-mentor, Grace. Yet since Tommy was killed I find it hard to even think about them, I love them both very much but I feel alienated, as if I see everything and everyone as a mere spectator, as if I don't really live. I hear the sound of the door opening and footsteps approaching my bunk, probably knowing me they didn't wait for permission. "Aww Y/N, it's terrible to lose a brother like this. I know." Trudy's voice acts as a switch and in an instant the blockage of my throat melts allowing me to cry all the tears I was trying to hold back to show myself strong in front of the others, to avoid their looks of compassion, their pity. I don't like to be pitied, both here in Pandora base and on Earth, it's just not for me, I've always wanted to be like my two brothers, my role models, my heroes, I think almost all younger sisters have this idea of their brothers, and I had mine. Tommy and Jake are my life and so are Trudy and Grace, I would give my life for them and here I am, mourning the death of someone I love so much and couldn't save. I who have always taken care of their wounds, be they physical or emotional, who have kept their confidences, who have brightened their days and lightened the weights on their shoulders, if they had any. I did everything I could to protect my brother after his injury and I only came here when I was sure Jakey would be okay, because that's how I've always wanted to do, who I've always wanted to be, who cares about those who love and who sacrifice themselves for them, desiring their happiness. And now what do I have left? Tommy's gone, treacherously killed by a bastard that if I ever find him, his life will be over. I should have helped him, I should have been there with him because I could defend myself with a respectable military career behind me. I should have been there, he died alone and even if I couldn't save him, at least I would have comforted him in his last moments and I didn't do that either. My screams, screams and moans fill the room and I only realize it when I notice Grace has buried her head between her shoulders, trying not to hear my cries of pain, I wish I could help but it's so much difficult. "I know it's not easy Y/N, and you're sick, I understand, but we need you." Grace's voice is calm and bordering on insensitive, the opposite of the storm of anger and pain that surges through me when I usually appreciate Grace's calmness, this time it drives me into a rage. This scares me, it's not like me to think so badly of Grace, this isn't me… Pain transforms you when it overwhelms you I suppose. I frown and start to argue, but Trudy is faster than me. "Don't you think losing a brother like this is hard enough in itself, without constantly reminding her of what is expected of her!?" Trudy is annoyed by Grace's rush to resume her studies and research, I know deep down that Grace doesn't want to be mean, but now is not the time. I need some time to process the pain, the mourning, but unfortunately I don't have this advantage, I don't have this time. "I'm sorry Grace, I don't think I'm in a position to resume my studies, my research or whatever you have in mind, I'm sorry." Trudy nods, running a hand down my back, while Grace just looks at me. "I didn't think someone with your career could have such a meltdown" Trudy hits the scientist, I don't even have the strength to do it anymore, I'm usually stronger than that, yet Tom's death drained me. "This was bad Grace you know Y/N is proud of her career and for good reason." I served in the military with Jakey as a sniper, then he was recognized as a perfect fit for the Avatar program due to my adaptable nature and my abilities outside strictly the sniper field due to my endless curiosity about everything, I love to read and inform me . I'm in Pandora training because, as a "prize of honor" during a particularly dangerous operation, I was given the opportunity to conduct training directly at Pandora's base. At first I was reluctant, I didn't want to separate from my brothers, I accepted only because Tommy threatened me that if I didn't do it he would be ashamed of me for the rest of his life. Ironic, huh? He didn't have long to live, apparently. I've been here ever since and only had a break when I learned of Jakey's injury, then I returned to Earth and then returned to the Avatar program when I had confirmation that my brother was handling himself, not a second ago. I ignored the health problems I might experience during these various planet-to-planet journeys, I didn't care what might happen to me, as long as Jakey knew he was loved and had someone by his side to help him, I would pay any price to help my brother and I would do it again, I have not regretted it and I never will. Only Grace and Trudy know that I have actually had various health problems that could have slowed my training were it not for my intelligence and willpower, Grace's words. "I know, and I also know you're right to be proud of yourself, I mean I didn't expect subjects accustomed to death to feel its effects so violently." I sighed, not looking into her eyes "What you're saying doesn't make sense, Grace. This is different and you know it too!" I answer. "What would be different, Y/N?" she replies her. "That he was and is my brother, maybe? It doesn't matter that I'm in the military, it doesn't mean a thing, when you lose someone dear, it really affects you despite the career you've decided to pursue. And you also know the reasons that prompted me towards a military career." Initially my career was to focus on the medical side of the military, which leaned more towards my personality, then after an attack that killed everyone but me, miraculously saved by the beams that protected me as the building I was in collapsed, I decided to totally change course and engage in combat, in some form. Grace raises an eyebrow and nods. "I guess what you're saying makes sense, Y/N. I'm sorry, maybe I should have paid more attention." "I definitely agree with you, Grace!" Trudy throws daggers at her with a look, even though I love them, I can't stand their fights right now. "Girls, I'm sorry but if you have to fight, please get out, I... I really don't have the strength, forgive me." Trudy and Grace look at me, my favorite thing about them is that they don't show pity, no compassion, they certainly feel it because they don't have stones for hearts, but they are discreet enough not to throw it in my face, which calms me down. They both just nod, while Trudy smiles sweetly, saying, "We're here for you, no matter what we say to each other, we're always here for you." Grace continues to nod at her words. "What did I do wrong? Why did Tommy die?! What did I do wrong, what did he do wrong to deserve this!? He wasn't a bad person, why kill him!?" I cry out of control, I feel like I will soon lose the calm in my voice. "He IS a bloody poor man, that's why he took him away from you." Trudy runs her hands down my back, trying to comfort me, to coax me into a calm that I don't have. "F-For what? For scraps of paper in the wallet?! Is it possible that printed paper is worth more than one life?!" I answer in kind, despite the choked voice that I find myself, the dry throat that itches as if I had swallowed a cactus whole. "Those pieces of paper have been making the world go round since they were invented Y/N, I know you're smarter than that, it's just the pain that speaks for you." Trudy rolls her eyes at Grace's apparent insensitivity, but she's like that, she's a scientist, she's normal to be skeptical and rational in every situation, "I don't think she would want to see you suffer so much, you know your brother loved your smile." Trudy speaks again as she takes my face and wipes my tears, delicate for her. "Trudy… Why did he die? I should have been there, what did I do wrong?" the doubt of having done something wrong, of being absent when I should have been present eats me up. "You didn't do anything wrong, you couldn't know it, he died because some motherfucker thought the card was worth more than your brother's life, but he never really quit T/N, he'll always stay." My favorite driver has been trying to sound reassuring, but he doesn't seem to be reassuring enough to calm me down. The strangled, moaning sound I make is unsettling, I don't even recognize it as my own voice, but that's the least of my problems as I finally wrap my arms around Trudy's neck, continuing to cry into her arms until I fall over I didn't even realize I was completely unconscious.

Tommy was cremated but I didn't even get to see him, just as I can't see Jakey until he comes here because another trip would compromise my health too much, already affected by the various trips previously made both by the fact that you have to be totally fit to deal with shifts like that, and I'm not. Adding insult to injury, I'm sure it will take longer to heal from the pain for this, if I could have seen him one last time I'm sure I could have healed sooner. I think it's cruel of life not to be able to see my brother one last time before he is finally cremated, Tommy has been destroyed and here I am, helpless, watching and not being able to do anything for him or for Jakey, it's like pour salt on an open wound.

It's torture and every time I think about it, I burst into uncontrolled crying and I have to stop whatever I'm doing, because the tears come down so copious that I'm blind, I cry so much that it seems impossible to stop, I only succeed when I have no more tears . It's suffocating, during the night I dream of our memories, during the day everything I do reminds me of him, everything I see in photos or read in books to complete my training makes me think of him and how much he loved to read and study with me, that intelligent glint in his eye every time he told me something he had read and learned, he had this amazing ability to draw you in and make you love whatever topic he was on, no matter what. I envied him for that, and I can't help but smile when I think back to our lessons together, when he corrected me with a demanding but gentle tone and a tug of hair. In everything I do I see him again and now more than ever I realize I look so much like him, I've never paid much attention to this aspect, I mean, I always had him in front of me I didn't need to think about these similarities, but now that I don't there is more these similarities haunt me as if they were ghosts. It's suffocating but the pain must be experienced completely and deeply to be truly overcome.

Despite everything I've resumed working next to Grace and spending a lot of my free time next to Trudy and her flying jewels, they distract me and help me, I thank them for their more or less visible but always present support. The pain of Tommy's disappearance is still there but I live with it, I have to live with it. Tommy won't come back, a thief took him away from me but he won't be able to steal my photos and memories, I keep them stored in a special casket, my heart, where they will remain as long as I live, safe.

Someone mentioned my brother Jakey coming here to Pandora to replace Tommy, I already knew about it and can't wait to see him, I miss him dearly, but I also wish I could see him again in better circumstances than these, Tommy's death is not the happiest reason to see Jakey again but maybe it's better than nothing because the letters we managed to exchange, with so much effort considering where we both are, weren't enough and still aren't enough.

So this was the first chapter, this is my first time writing to publish something, so please be kind.

©️ Floralifetime April 10-2023, please don't do not republish, repost, steal, modify, translate or claim my work as your own. All rights reserved.

@avatarbyamara​ I promised you, sorry if it's a bit slow but otherwise the first chapter would have been TOO long.

[grandlinedreams]

hiiiii i love ur writing sm it’s so good

could you maybe write a scenario where reader used to be in the marines and one day law finds out and how he could react to it

maybe angst to comfort

thank uuuuuuu

Hiya!! Sorry it took me a bit to get to your request, but i absolutely can! I hope this is to your liking!

[Heads up!: some angst, hurt/comfort]

You've done well to hide your past. Made every effort possible to erase it, even going so much as to relocate to an entirely different sea. There's no way anyone from then will find you now ㅡ or so you think. You hope.

"[Name]." Law's voice makes you turn, finding him watching you with an unreadable look on his face. "Come here." You blink. Have you done something wrong? Trotting back towards him, Law waits for you to stop before he gestures. "Mind explaining this?"

You follow his finger, taking in the paper stuck to the wall with the abrupt drop of your stomach, a cold chill sliding down your spine. The paper is old, older than the ones plastered nearby, but still intact enough to see who it is, as well as the bounty attached.

It's you.

"I thought you said you didn't have a bounty before joining us." Law's tone is carefully neutral, and he watches you carefully. You reach for the poster, tearing it free and staring at the yellowed paper. "I don't appreciate being lied to."

You should have known that things would come back to bite you, that you'd never truly be able to move past that chapter of your life. "...I wasn't a pirate. That part is true." Your fingers tremble, paper crinkling as you continue to stare at anything but Law, aware of his own gaze on you. "...almost all of my family are marines. It was never really a question of if I would follow their footsteps, but when."

Your tone is soft, but given that you're both standing in broad daylight where nosier people can spy on you, Law is quick to grab your arm and yank you between two buildings. He'd drag you back to the Polar Tang, but he isn't about to let you come back with him until he's certain he can trust you.

"So you were a marine." You flinch, and Law still finds it in himself to feel a little guilty.

"I was. For two years. I couldn't take it anymore. The corruption, the double-standards, the cruelty...so I left." You hold up the paper. "This is because I technically defected. They thought if they put a bounty on me, someone would turn me in."

"They," Law repeats. "Your family?" You nod. "Are they still looking for you?"

"I doubt it," you answer. "They probably think I'm dead. But if you're worried that I'll turn you guys in to save my own skin, I would never." You look away, staring at the ground. "I understand if this is where we part ways, though. I lied to you."

It's true, you did ㅡ and Law loathes being kept in the dark about important matters, and your connection to marine forces is one of them. But he can't just let you go that easily. You've endeared yourself to the crew, and they'll ask questions if you don't come back with him.

"I'll let it slide this time," he tells you, watches as you look up at him with wide eyes. "But let me make myself clear. If you do anything to put my crew in danger, I'll make sure you won't live long enough to regret it."

You stare back at him. "I would never," you tell him, and you mean it. You'd escaped to make yourself a new life, with hopes for a better family than the one you'd had ㅡ and now that you've found it, you won't let go without a fight.