#i will defend Sniffles vehemently with my life | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

streakyglasses · 4 days ago

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hello! feel free to read here, or on ao3/ffn. important author's note posted to the end of the works on both those sites.

Street’s breaths bounce off the backsplash and blinds as he closes the door with his hip and a definitive click. The quiet stretches on like the shoreline, and with his toes digging into the steel of his boots, Street’s shoulders fall and his carefully constructed dam cracks into a million pieces.

Every successful team needs a good leader. A strong leader. A leader who knows how to make tough calls and defend them to the end. That’s the type of leader Hondo and Hicks are, the kind Chris is at the safe house, but it’s feeling more and more out of Street’s grasp.

He’s spent a lot of his life feeling like a fuck-up, but it’s never felt so damn terrifying until now. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, all of Buck’s mantras and Chris’s levelheaded reminders are floating about, but he’s deaf to them as he stumbles to the bedroom and throws his backpack on the bed.

“What the fuck was I thinking?” He murmurs to himself, eyes tracing the life they’ve built themselves before, followed by a sniffle. His restlessness grows like a tsunami under the sea, and he’s about to shoot Chris a text that he went for a drive to clear his head when the running of water catches his attention.

Countless promises not to run and irrefutable evidence that the other is a better coping mechanism than anything else rush over him like a tidal wave. In his periphery, he sees the photo from their first real date on the wall—cheeks pressed together and eyes bright. The one she insisted they hang up, but in the bedroom because it’s only for them. Instead of reaching into his pocket for his keys, he peels his jacket off and tosses it next to his backpack in a black lump. His boots go next, kicked to some corner of the room as he beelines for the bathroom.

It’s a different world. Chris’s soft hum fills the air, mingling with the citrus-tinted steam from her body wash. The sage towels they picked out together are hung neatly next to the shower, two toothbrushes sitting in a silver cup on the sink. Her form is just visible through the blur of frosted glass. In a six by six room, everything is right in the world.

He hears the familiar sound of a shampoo bottle closing and something comes over him. The need to be in her arms, to give himself to her to make better, overcomes everything else. His jeans hit the ground with a flop but the idea of getting off his shirt and underwear is forgotten as he opens the door and steps under the spray

“Street? Oh—woah!” Chris gets out as she turns to see him, and is promptly pulled into his arms. Her arms return the gesture on instinct, shampoo reside leaving palm-print shapes on his back. A million questions sit on her tongue but she forgets the second she feels hot tears on her shoulder and feels him shaking.

“Okay,” she says, getting her bearings while her heart calms down from the adrenaline rush. She wipes her forehead on the sleeve of his shirt to clear away the shampoo she can feel creeping down. “You’re okay.”

He shakes his head vehemently against her bare shoulder, his labored breaths mixing with the shower stream until it’s hard to piece out which is which.

“You are.” Chris promises. “Everything is going to be okay. Come on, follow my breathing.”

Pushing carefully at his shoulder like one would a child, she coaxes him into letting one of his arms fall limp at his side. His hand has yet to steady when she slips their fingers together, and she worms their arms between their bodies to flatten his hand out over her chest.

“See?” She whispers, drops her chin until she manages to catch his eyes. They’re full of fear and anger, a volatile mix she hasn’t seen in years, and her own heart stops for a second before she remembers he needs it more. “Nice and easy. Breathe in. Good.”

Slowly, his breathing evens out and his hands loosen their vice grip. But she takes a half step back and his fingers curl into her chest in a desperate attempt to keep her where she is. Her lips ghost over his jaw.

“It’s okay, I’m right here. I want to get you out of these clothes, is all.”

Nodding his silent permission, the corners of Chris’s lips quirk into a gentle smile, and her hands begin the work of pulling off the soaked burgundy fabric. It splats onto the floor but they ignore it to get his underwear off and lay them on top. With nothing but the water between them now, she sees the full extent of his pain, from the hunch in his shoulders to the set of the jaw.

“C’mon, sit, babe,” she nudges her knees into his until he hits the built-in stool and his body obeys. Her hands start to massage the tight wads of knots making home across his upper back, thumbs digging in with more pressure. “This okay?”

“You should wash the shampoo out of your hair.” Street says, as if suddenly coming back into himself. She raises an eyebrow, and he gives her a half-smirk, though it’s exhausted. “I’ll be fine for a minute. Please?”

“Just because you said please.” She smiles. She finishes quickly, his eyes lingering on the line of her muscles as she stretches her arms overhead until she’s warmed through. Not bothering with the conditioner, she wraps her arms around him again. His face nuzzles into her stomach, her hands carding through hair to hold him closer.

“What if I can’t do it?” Street asks, before Chris can.

“Do what?”

“Lead this team. Be a Sergeant.”

“You can,” she promises, only to hear him disagree.

“I’m not like you,” he whispers, something deep and raw stirring in both of them. “Or Buck, or Hondo. They need someone to bring them together, and that’s not me. I don’t know why I thought I could do this. Help them?”

Each word is a knife—one she thought they’d long untwisted and extracted from his ribs, and closed up the wounds left behind. Looking to the ceiling to take some deep breaths, the increasing chill of the water is nothing compared to the hollowed beating of her heart. She sniffles back her own tears before he notices.

“Hey, listen to me.” Chris kisses the crown of his head and curls over him, protecting him and his body any way she can. “You are a leader.”

“They’re a mess, Chris.” He cries. “And now it’s on me.”

“I know. But you’re not alone. You can handle this, it’s just going to take a little time.”

“Unless I get someone killed in the meantime.”

Sucking in a sharp breath, the shower floor bites into Chris’s knees as she lowers herself to be at his eye-level. Her hand draws down the front of his chest to his thigh, tracing soothing circles.

“Look at me. Please, Jim.”

Street falters as the words reach him. He can count on two hands the amount of times she’s called him Jim in the years they’ve known each other. Unable to not follow where she leads, he brings his red, scared eyes to hers. Her jaw clenches.

“Whatever happens, I will be here. But me, Hondo, Buck—everyone who loves you knows the kind of leader you are. I can’t imagine how scary it is being back in Long Beach, having everyone looking to you, but they trust you.”

Weight starts to fall away from his shoulders as she speaks like the water droplets rolling down the glass doors.

“Even when we met, you never let anyone down on purpose. You were always trying to do what you thought was right. It’s part of you that made me fall in love with you.” She kisses him softly, his eyes slowly losing their fogginess under her words. “And you’ve grown so much. You’re more discerning now, you’re a team player; you’re equipped with everything you need to lead your team, and I know that because I see it in you every day.”

Her words soak through his skin and into his blood like medicine. Slow-acting, but present. She doesn’t stop with the circles, either, keeps her breathing nice and even while she lets the calming sound of falling water surround them.

“You have so much heart. You’re going to take it, and the best of what you learned, and make a team that has each other’s backs like our team did. Like I know you have mine. You deserve this shot. You’ve earned your own trust. Please believe me.”

She falls silent, a half-smile gracing her features. She leans into his touch as he raises a hand to cradle her jaw, his thumb caressing her cheekbone, memorized by it.

“Thank you,” he says, moments later. Her gaze awaits him when he looks up, a sad but unwavering smile on her face.

“I love you.” She kisses him. Pours as much of herself into it in the hopes it’ll sink in just how much she meant everything she said; if it doesn’t, she’ll just say it again. Street takes her hand when she goes to stand up, squeezing.

“Come on, let’s get today off you,” Chris suggests, and there’s no argument to be had. “The water’s cool, but it’ll be quick.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. A cold shower never hurt anything. Besides, after, I’ll warm you up.”

The paralyzing fear that’s had him in its grips starts to thaw, and she relaxes at the first hint of a true smile. A small sparkle in his eyes, the beginning divots of dimples. His low laugh echoes off the grout, and it feels as good as it sounds.

“You already did.”

Love when you post fun new prompts! Especially after reading the last anon post, I think we all appreciate your writing!

#9: climbing into the bath/shower more for the physical comfort than practicality. Maybe after Streets first week at his new job? Whatever you find fitting.

(I’m so sorry for responding to this immediately only in that I obviously have nothing written yet BUT it needed to be said anon(s) who are sending me prompts please keep them coming I’m obsessed with all of them & have nothing to do all weekend but chill in a hotel room 😈)

#Stris #Anon ask #I love yall #my writing #fic writing #chris x street #street x chris #chris alonso #jim street #swat cbs #cbs swat

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anakinisvaderisanakin · 3 years ago

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Binary Sunset (AU post RotS, Beru Lars gets an unexpected visit and has to make a tough choice regarding her nephew)

“Who are you?”

Beru reared back, attempting to put as much distance as possible between herself whomever this thing was, staring her down with cold dead eyes.

“I have come for my son,” the figure said, its voice deep and monotone and distinctly male.

Glancing behind herself into the sleeping quarters of the homestead, she saw that the infant child was still asleep in his cradle. She made sure not to give away his location, but when she turned her attention back to the intruder, her heart was already sinking. He had not moved. In fact, he might have been taken for a statue, had it not been for the loud wheezing breaths of a respiratory device of some kind. The man bore a cape, as black as the uniform full body suit and armour covering him. It danced in the twilight wind, as the two suns glowed behind him like red orbs. Their intense heat seemed insignificant, compared to the burning hatred Beru could feel from the man’s covered eyes.

“I don’t know your son.”

“Is that so.”

His mask gave nothing away, stoic, resembling a human skull. His words seemed a statement, rather than a question, as if he was making a mental note of her defensiveness. Tall, broad shouldered, menacing. Beru hoped she came off as genuine, but when he took a step towards her, she felt the primal urge to run inside, grab the child and flee.

“There is a child in your sleeping quarters,” said the man, after a long, chilling silence despite the sunlight still spilling in orange hues over the sand dunes. “He is not yours.”

“He is!” Beru heard herself growl, shocked by how possessive she had become of the little one in such a short span of time. “He is mine!”

“He is not. You may have taken him in as next of kin, but he is not yours to claim.”

Beru clenched her jaw, throwing a quick glance over her shoulder at the cradle. He was still blissfully unaware, swept in a soft duvet as he cooed in his sleep. Even over the persisting hissing of the intruder’s breathing, she focused on the child.

Luke. Precious little Luke, destined for so much more than life as a poor moisture farmer. Face set hard, Beru made sure to place herself in the middle of the doorway, just outside the threshold. She would not back down, whatever that decision would entail. The ex-Jedi who had delivered him might have grander plans, plans this stranger might be involved with, but she wanted the boy safe. On Tatooine, if he was taught to fend for himself, to steer clear of Jawas, Tusken raiders and womp rats, he might become an ordinary young man some day. Without the mystical sorcery his father had fallen prey to luring him in.

“He is mine. We have adopted him, we are his only living relatives. He has no one else.”

Beru hoped she sounded genuine to the menace, hoped she was appealing to some sort of sympathy or compassion behind the threatening visage. When he spoke, his tone was even deeper than before, a rumble rivalling that of any fully grown krayt dragon.

“Do not lie to me,” he warned, and moved so suddenly Beru couldn’t help but gasp in mixed horror and startlement.

But all he did was raise one arm, letting the open palm hover midair, facing the woman’s face. She blinked, confusion seeping in - and then her head exploded from within. She flinched, as a sharp pain ground its way into her temples. The ache travelled down her spine, a loud ringing in her ears overpowering any senses as her vision went bright white - shutting out both the mysterious visitor and the binary sunset. She whimpered, her own hands flying up to cover her ears. She wanted to scream, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes as she thought what felt like an ice pick being drilled right through her brain.

And then, it was gone. As if it had never been there to begin with. Unable to control her sobs, her legs gave out beneath her and she sank to the ground. She panted, terrified of the man before her, of the agonizing headache returning. She could not explain it, but there was no doubt in her mind that the two were connected. The stranger had hurt her without laying a finger on her, if he was able to do that, what else was he capable of? If she had been wary before, now she was terrified.

“I - I am… not lying,” she managed to whisper, voice hoarse and unsteady.

“No. You are not.��

Surprisingly, the man agreed as he let his hand fall to his side. A wave of relief washed over Beru, but she was not prepared to build her hopes up that he may show her mercy and leave her and Luke alone. Luke needed to stay here, for his own safety. The Jedi had promised her he would keep them safe, and she had promised to love Luke as her own son. That meant defending him as if he were.

“You are not lying. You know only what Kenobi has taught you.”

Beru wiped her face with her sleeve as best she could, hoisting herself into an upright position with one hand pressed to the clay wall by her side. She clung to it for support, but through her watery eyes she saw that the stranger seemed more resolute, his stance more determined. She trembled, but stood her ground.

“I won’t speak of it. Not to you. Not to anyone. He warned us of strangers.”

“Kenobi is a liar and a traitor to the Empire, as are all Jedi. Would it be beneath an attempted murderer to lie?”

The stranger’s voice bore the same, mechanical character but it was sharper now, like a bark. Beru felt the hatred from before had returned, but didn’t seem to be directed at her. The way the man said ‘Kenobi’ revealed everything about whom the loathing was aimed at.

“I don’t understand,” the woman shook her head, cold sweat still soaking her forehead and she wiped her brow with her sleeve.

“He told you the child has no living relatives, did he not?”

Beru’s eyes widened, before suspicion crept back in. She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat, willing herself to restrain herself from shedding any more tears. Even though she was still breathless, still shivering, still afraid.

“I never said it was him,” she settled for, as her retort.

“I am warning you to play along, or I may need to apply different methods to assure your complacency,” was the reply, and the man raised his hand again.

The threat was enough, and Beru shook her head vehemently, arms coming up to shield herself from another head splitting, intrusive mental assault. What she had assumed before was true, he had been controlling whatever power had tormented her senses. How? Why? Nothing made sense, but she believed him and that was enough.

“You are wiser than most. Fetch the child.”

“What?” the woman croaked, all the blood draining from her face as the intent behind the demand hit her.

“Fetch. The. Child,” he repeated, this time using his raised arm to point his finger at the doorway.

Only a sliver of pink and orange sunlight remained on the horizon. Owen wouldn’t be back in several hours. Beru hesitated, unwilling to comply, but found she could not resist. She could either obey, or protest and get herself killed. The stranger would take Luke away either way, she already knew that.

Stubborn tears welled back up in her eyes, blurring her vision as she slipped back into the primary living area of their homestead. Passing through another low doorway, she approached the cradle cautiously. She didn’t want to wake the child, didn't want to frighten him. Hushing him, or perhaps herself and her own soft sniffles, she picked the little bundle up. Beru made sure Luke was neatly wrapped in his duvet as she cradled him to her chest, rocking her arms gently when it seemed he might wake up. She breathed a sigh of relief when he settled back down, cooing and letting out a soft snore. Swallowing hard, Beru kept her head low and kept her gaze steady on the blonde tuft of hair on Luke’s head where it stuck out from underneath his pajamas.

Not until she had crossed the threshold, relying solely on her periphery and memory, did she tear her eyes away from the infant. The intruder hadn’t moved an inch, the now chilly, crisp air biting at Beru’s tears streaked cheeks. When she spoke, her voice was soft but defiant.

“If you want him, you’ll have to go through me first.”

“It would be foolish of you to presume I wouldn’t,” he simply stated, his tone matter of fact.

“He’s my boy.”

Once again, Beru hoped he had a heart somewhere behind the exterior facade of menace. Beyond those strange, terrifying powers he had displayed.

“He is not. The child belongs with his father,” said the man.

“The child’s father is dead. So is his mother. I and Owen are the only family he has left, he has no one else. He means nothing to you, whoever you are. He means the world to me.”

“Then, we have something in common,” stated the stranger, and it took Beru a tad too long to understand what he meant.

“I… don’t understand. I don’t understand any of this. Not Kenobi, not you,” she felt the weight of realization as something began to dawn on her, but refused to voice it and see it confirmed.

The man shifted then, stalking closer with a couple of long strides. As he moved closer, Beru tipped her head back, staring up at his frightening stature but unwilling to turn away, for fear of what he might do if she lost an ounce of focus. He seemed much more focused on the bundle in her arms, however, and she instinctively held the child closer to her body for protection. The man was huge, towering over her, looming like a hungering predator ready to strike. The lenses of the mask he wore were a deep, crimson red, she noticed now. The colour filled her with dread, entrancing as she watched him peer in what could have come across as stunned silence at the peacefully slumbering infant. One the man’s large, gloved hands came up to reach for the boy, and Beru almost yelped in fear.

But instead of harming Luke with just a look, Beru was shocked to see the man touch the infant’s chubby little cheek with an unearned, unexpected tenderness. It was just a simple, gentle graze of fingertips, and a smile pulled at the corners of the child’s lips. He was still asleep, but he cooed something intelligible, one tiny hand reaching for the stranger’s index finger. The stranger seemed cautious, and Beru almost believed he was concerned, maybe even scared of accidentally hurting the boy.

“Kenobi would rather have you believe the child’s parents had perished,” said the stranger, but his attention was still single handedly on the infant.

“Where else would they be? Kenobi told us the Jedi order had been executed, framed for high treason. He told us Anakin Skywalker died with the rest of his kind.”

“They were not framed, they were the instigators. But I am not here to discuss politics that may result in your immediate execution, and neither should you.”

The threatening note to the man’s voice was back, and Beru pinched her lips tightly together. She knew by now that Luke’s life had never been on the line, not given how carefully the stranger was interacting with the sleeping form. Her life, however, was still in mortal peril - and perhaps Owen’s was, too.

“The fact still stands,” Beru dared to say, bracing herself. “That Anakin is dead, and Luke has no one but us.”

“Luke…”

The name was said so gently, so softly that Beru almost thought she had imagined it. Despite the harsh diction, the flat delivery seemed so genuine and heart felt. Gaze darting between the intruder’s mask, and Luke’s pleased expression as the man let him close his little fist around his finger, the suspicion only grew stronger in its persistence.

“Yes. Luke. His mother named him before she died, Kenobi said. Unless that was another lie,” the woman trailed off.

“She did believe you were a boy,” mused the man, almost wistful as he seemed to be speaking directly to the small child.

Still, the words left an impression. A cold, gnawing sensation settled at the pit of Beru’s belly; clawing its way up into her chest cavity where it remained, desperately grinding from the inside as if attempting to force itself out. There was something eerie and uncanny about the stranger, something distinctly familiar. Familiar, yet foreign. Known, yet unknown. She peered down at the infant in her arms, the love she had developed for the little boy overpowering, overwhelming her. Then, she ignored the alarm bells at the back of her mind, the voices screaming at her to resist the urge. Instead, she slowly held the baby out in front of her, face set hard and throat tight as a lump settled at the base. The ball of tears rose, until her eyes were once more brimming with tears.

The stranger eyed her with what could only be perplexed confusion, as if he was in disbelief that she would entrust him with the child. She remained motionless, as he seemed to be weighing his options. Then, with stilted, jerky motions, he lifted both arms. He reached for the bundle, and with caution as if the boy was made of glass, as if he were so fragile he might break at the simplest touch, the stranger accepted him. The scene was ridiculous; a man looking like the reaper himself had come straight from a galactic battlefield while shielding the very icon of innocence in his grasp.

“You said his Anakin isn’t dead. If he’s alive, then where is he?” Beru said, and the calm, collected manner in which she delivered those words surprised even her.

The stranger said nothing, but he did look at her.

A long, pregnant silence fell as the darkness of night finally settled over the farm, and the Lars’ homestead. Beru wrapped her arms around herself for warmth, blinking back the tears pooling in her eyes. She had wanted him to say it, to verbally verify and confirm what she suspected. It was impossible to deny, as she studied the wonder and amazement with which the stranger regarded Luke. What surprised her most, though, was when he hid the child close against his chest, and held her gaze. She felt his stare burning into her soul, his presence no less imposing than it had been when he first appeared.

Beru found she couldn’t speak. She had nothing to say, and even if she did, it would have made no difference. She understood, and took a step back as she nodded at him, encouraging him with a mournful smile. He was dangerous, that much she could tell. The stranger was vicious, ruthless, and cruel. But he held a tremendous fondness for this child, and in that, Beru could see herself. In that, Beru found the strength to acknowledge that the stranger was, in fact, no stranger at all. Even as he turned his back, cape billowing behind him while he began to trudge through the sand in a direction only he knew where it might lead, Beru was certain that the man would keep Luke safe.

As the man grew smaller in the distance, Beru allowed herself to weep again, watching her nephew disappear into the ice cold desert night. Still, something nagged at her compelled her to make a bargain in turn. Not that she had anything to offer, but she was convinced the man who was not a stranger would be inclined to agree.

“Promise me Luke will be safe with you!”

The intruder halted. Sand whirled around his boots, starlight bouncing off the man’s domed helmet as a gleaming beacon of hope in the darkness. She sensed an odd, reluctant sort of foreboding but stood her ground. He did not speak, but he didn’t have to. She knew the answer and she knew he would not have come this far if he didn’t have the intention to keep the boy out of harm’s way. She didn’t know the man well, never had, but she knew Luke. Shutting her eyes, Beru accepted the silence as the confirmation she had been looking for. She had been left alive, living to tell the tale. She knew he had come to kill her, she didn’t understand how, but somehow it was clear. Somehow, Luke would be okay. The man needed the infant, more than the infant needed him. It was the next right thing to do.

“Thank you, Anakin.”

Beru couldn’t be certain, but something told her Luke had a better chance at the kind of life he was meant for in the hands of his father.

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You all knew where this was going, haha. I did intend to post this as another installment of Mask of Death but I’m not sure I should throw a non-canon compliant chapter in there as all others have been as compliant as fanfics can be. Let me know whether I should make an exception for this one or not!

I’m a sucker for dad!Vader and baby!Luke.

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petri808 · 4 years ago

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1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33-Epilogue

~~Day 2 of Lucy’s testimony

“Ms. Heartfilia, on the night of the kidnapping please start from the moment you got off the train and were walking back towards your apartment building.”

“O-Okay.” Lucy closed her eyes as she took a deep breath. ‘Just tell the truth, let the prosecutor direct her answers...’ She opened her eyes as she began. “We had a system in place, so whenever I was out alone, I would stay on the phone with someone. That night, Natsu was on the other end. He talked and kept me company. I was maybe halfway to the apartment building when I heard something behind me, but before I could turn to see what it was, I felt a hand wrap around my face and a cloth placed over my mouth. I-I screamed, and I heard Touka’s voice, and Natsu screaming over the phone but everything went black as I passed out. It happened really fast.”

“What was the next thing you remember?”

“I woke up in an apartment that I didn’t recognize. I remember being dizzy, my head hurt, and my eyes were all blurry. My... m-my hands and feet were tied up, and I was lying on my side on the floor.” Lucy stopped again to take another deep breath before continuing. “That’s when I heard noises like drawers opening and closing. I couldn’t see where it was coming from at first, but I guess my mind told me it must be Touka. So, my survival instincts kicked in at that moment. I stayed still, pretending to be asleep, but I cracked my eyes open to see what I could.”

“And what could you see?”

“I s-saw, like a couch, and a wall, and it was covered with photographs of Natsu— just completely covered. And I could see there was all kinds of them, close ups, far shots, old stuff, new ones, clippings... but they weren’t just Natsu. I could see a lot of me and our friends too, and that really creeped me out cause I knew she was watching us, but just, you know, to see it— that was really hard. I tried so hard to stay focused on what was happening. I just kept thinking, I’ve gotta find a way out of there.”

Lucy took the jury through that night, step, by step just as she’d been coached by the prosecutor. The closer she got to the main event, the slower she moved through each detail. They covered all the visuals she saw from her vantage point, inching their way to the moment Touka had begun her physical assault. Lucy’s hands sat in her lap, but they constantly opened and closed into fists to disburse the building anxieties in a physical way. It was a technique her therapist had shown her specifically to use during the trial. Thank goodness for all the preparations by her therapist, because recalling these memories were to re-live them and that was all extremely difficult.

“You testified that Ms. Shiromajyo did not know you were already awake. So, how did she wake you up?”

Lucy took a deep breath knowing this was the hardest part, but the prosecutor needed her to tell the tale. “She kicked me really hard in the back which made me roll over to try and defend, but before I could she stomped me in the stomach, and just kept kicking me over and over...” Lucy’s body trembled as she relieved the event in her mind. “I-I couldn’t do much because I was tied up tightly, so I kept rolling to the side and curling up in a ball. I didn’t wanna scream, because... b-because I thought that’s what she wanted to hear, and I wasn’t gonna give her that satisfaction. But I think it only made her angrier.”

“Was she saying anything through this attack?”

“Y-Yes...” Lucy’s voice cracked. “S-She was calling me a slut and a bitch and blamed me for the pain she was feeling. Said if only I’d walked away like she’d warned me to, I wouldn’t be in this situation. So, I snapped back that hurting me wouldn’t make Natsu love her. That killing me...” Lucy sucked in a breath, “wasn’t worth going to jail over. I thought— that maybe if I try to reason with her, get her to see this wouldn’t change anything, she’d stop, but— it didn’t faze her.” Lucy shivered at how cold Touka’s eyes had been at the moment. “She said, “if I can’t have him, neither will you.” That, “don’t you think I know that?” But she didn’t care. This woman was going to kill me, and she said it with a straight face. That’s when I knew she was serious, and I started preparing myself to die.”

Eventually, Lucy couldn’t even look in Natsu’s direction. She could see the utter turmoil on his face, and it only added to her anxiety. So, instead, she looked at the jury members themselves. That was another tactic the prosecutor instructed Lucy to do. ‘Talk to them,’ he’d explained. ‘Think of this as your opportunity to tell your story. Let them see all the emotions you were feeling then, or feeling now, because they need to know how much Touka’s actions have affected you.’ So, that’s what Lucy did her best to do, scanning just above their heads. She still couldn’t make eye contact because just like Natsu, listening to her story brought a lot of pain to many of their faces.

With tears trickling down, Lucy continued giving a blow by blow account leading up to Natsu’s arrival, and what happened before the authorities arrived. How she got the cut on her neck and other injuries, and how they were fighting against Touka as hard as they could. Tears trickled slowly down her cheeks as she spoke, but she didn’t stop talking. She told them how Natsu begged Touka to leave her alone, even willing to give up his life for it, but once Natsu admitted that he loved her, that really set Touka off. “That— T-That not how I wanted to find out he loved me!” Lucy screamed through the tears. “That’s not how anyone should find that out! And she took that beautiful thing away from me!” Lucy slumped in her chair, trying to stop the heavy sobs wracking her body. Saying it out loud, the anger was seething inside of her because she hadn’t expected to have this reaction. Maybe she’d buried it for far too long?

“Ms. Heartfilia, do you need a break?”

“N-No,” she wiped away the sloppy tears. “I can finish this. I-I need to keep going.”

“Take a moment to compose yourself,” the judge explained, “then continue.”

Lucy nodded to the judge in acknowledgment, then after a long deep exhale, continued to tell the jury how she’d watched as Natsu defended her and what was going through her mind as she saw him stabbed. “All the blood...” she whimpered, fighting the urge to bawl again. “There was so much blood from Natsu’s injuries. I started freaking out because I didn’t wanna die and I didn’t wanna watch my boyfriend killed! So, I-I grabbed the closest object which was a hardcover book— her school yearbook and just started swinging as hard as I could despite my wrists being tied. I was just running on adrenaline at the point knowing it had to be either her or us, and I’m sorry, but I did not want to die.”

At that stage of the testimony, Lucy took the jury through the police’s arrival from her perspective. What she’d observed, and how they finished subduing Touka. “Once they took her into custody, I think I was just in shock. Frankly, I don’t even know how I managed to stay focused through the whole ordeal, I just remember thinking if this woman was gonna kill me, I’d make it as difficult as possible.” Finally, Lucy covered the timeline for the jury between the scene and going to the hospital for treatment, including the panic attack and his she had to be sedated.

“And how has this affected you since the incident?”

“Objection! Leading! This has no relevance to the case!” The defense attorney argued to the judge. “The witnesses state of mind after the fact could be contributed to multiple factors and there’s no way to attribute it solely to my client or the events revolves around my client.”

The prosecutor countered, arguing that Lucy’s continued reactions to the events over the ensuing months was relevant to the case.

But the judge only ruled partially in the States favor. “Re-word you question counselor to the event itself.”

“Ms. Heartfilia, please provide any specific factors you’ve suffered relating to your experiences with Ms. Shiromajyo.”

“W-Well, my panic attacks and nightmares are because of what happened. I keep seeing and reliving things like a movie replaying in my mind. Especially the attack, I literally wake up screaming because of bloody dreams, and this causes me problems, like I don’t get enough sleep, I couldn’t focus on school. Just the fear of leaving my apartment has kept me from doing anything really for months. I’m scared of being kidnapped, even though logically I know Touka is in jail, it doesn’t just make those feelings go away. I wish it did— Heaven help me, I wish it would just go away, but it doesn’t.”

“So, you still fear Ms. Shiromajyo?”

Lucy stiffened and nodded her head vehemently as she shrunk down in the chair. “Yes.”

“Thank you, no further questions at this time. We reserve the right to recall the witness.”

“Cross?” The judge asked the defense, to which they also responded with reserve the right to recall. “Then Ms. Heartfilia, you may leave the stand, but be available in case of being recalled.”

Lucy nodded quietly at the judge, then slipped out of the courtroom. The bailiff lead her to a back room, along with her therapist so she couldn’t hear what was going on. Once in the safety of the room, she broke down. All the emotions she’d tampered down to get through the testimony, rushed out. She’d shed tears during her testimony, but now she was free to sob openly.

“You did great,” the therapist cooed, soothing the young woman. She tightened her hug, “that’s good, just let it all out.”

A knock at the door came, as Natsu and Levy were allowed inside. Natsu immediately went to his girlfriend and took over for the therapist. “Shh,” he spoke softly and smoothed his hand against her hair. “You did amazing babe!”

“Lu, you did great up there! We’re really proud of you!”

“Thanks, guys,” Lucy sniffled into Natsu’s chest. She was proud of getting through it without having a break down, but the nagging knowledge of this wasn’t over yet, still loomed large. The defense was surely going to recall her at some stage, and even if the attorney didn’t, the prosecutor could, plus just the waiting sucked! “Can we please go home? I-I just wanna go home.”

#nalu #nalu fan fic #nalu fanfiction #nalu au #Natsu dragneel #Lucy heartfilia #Natsu x lucy #angst #nalu fan fiction #strangers on a train #ch 29

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scottybrock · 5 years ago

Text

Petty & Pettier - Colby Brock

A/N: Requested by a lovely anon: “arzaylea rodriguez saying something online or in an interview about reader thus starting a feud between them and the whole gang not really knowing whose side to take? maybe arzaylea is threatened by reader and colbys friendship? ohhh and maybe to add fuel to the fire reader might befriend one of arzayleas exes? just a whole bunch of drama cause I’m in a dramatic mood “

You usually weren’t a petty bitch.

Okay, so you were. There was absolutely nothing wrong with that, especially because you used your powers for good, for your friends, rather than yourself. When it came to defending yourself, you didn’t really care for it. People could think whatever they wanted about you; you knew what was true and what wasn’t. It didn’t bother you. You didn’t really give a flying shit if anyone said anything about you. You were used to it- you hung out with some pretty big content creators, and you were just a lowly nobody, according to what people said about you. You weren’t a Youtuber, and you kept yourself out of the spotlight. People didn’t understand how you became friends with the people you were friends with, but it was really no one’s fucking business.

However, when it came to defending your friends, you were a shark that had caught a whiff of blood- earnest to draw even more, if need be. It was something your friends loved about you- how much you cared about them, loved them. Colby, especially, appreciated your fierce and unyielding devotion to your friend group. You loved your friends, and you would do anything for them. Putting a few bitches in place was the very least of what you would do for them.

The bitch in question this time around, was none other than Arzaylea Rodriguez. You knew all about her. She went for the clout chasing option when searching for future boyfriends. Unfortunately this time, she had her sights set on none other than Colby Brock.

You had heard about what she had done to Luke Hemmings, lead singer of the band 5 Seconds of Summer. She had gotten him into harder drugs, tried to isolate him from his best friends and his fans, and nearly succeeded. Luckily, Luke pulled his head out of his ass long enough to finally dump the clout-chasing parasite on her ass.

Arzaylea prided herself on chasing after boys who had a following, a steady fan base. Colby was too big-hearted to really notice Arzaylea’s true intentions. His heart was too kind, too pure to be able to really see what a horrid person she really was. She was nothing like the flower of her namesake. The rest of the group had seen the destruction she left behind from all of her exes.

Tara was all for the speedy destruction of the possible blossoming relationship between Colby and Arzaylea. Sam, being the sweetheart he was, wanted things to end as peacefully as possible. Jake seemed torn between wanting you to end her, and wanting things to remain as un-messy as possible. Corey and Devyn seemed indifferent, but also displeased with the blossoming relationship, especially because it involved Arzaylea. Katrina seemed to want to give her the benefit of the doubt, but was leaning towards discovering that the she-devil was trash. Kevin, Mike, and Reggie point-blank didn’t like her, which was where Aryia, Xepher, and Cassie stood.

“Dude,” Sam’s voice was one of shock. His bright blue eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, his jaw hanging slack. “She just roasted you.” Arzaylea, threatened by your friendship with Colby, had taken to Twitter as usual. She sent out a slew of defamatory tweets, bashing not only your character, but your looks as well. She called you an attention-seeking whore. “Pot, meet kettle,” You scoffed in response when you saw that particular tweet.

“It’s not like any of those tweets are true!” Tara protested vehemently, fuming on your behalf. Jake just stared at his phone screen, his jaw clenched with anger. Katrina seemed to be near-tears on your behalf, her lower lip quivering with indignation and hurt. Her glassy eyes rested on you, and she offered you a shaky half-smile.

You just shrugged, nonplussed with the tweets. As long as she wasn’t going after your friends, you didn’t necessarily give a flying fuck. Suddenly, the door burst open, revealing a rather disheveled looking Colby on the other side. His bright blue eyes were aflame with complete and utter rage. He stalked across the room and plopped down on the couch next to you, his handsome face set into a fierce scowl.

“She tried to make me choose,” His voice was gruff, and quivering with barely suppressed anger. “She told me to choose either you or her, and I chose you.” His eyes settled on your face, some of the anger leaving it. He offered you a strained smile. “Obviously, I chose you.” His voice softened on the word ‘you,’ Your cheeks flushed, and you ducked your head. “Clearly, she didn’t take it so well.” Colby’s smile dropped, his scowl replacing it.

You shrugged again. “As long as she doesn’t say anything about-” Tara cut you off, her big brown eyes wide with fury on your behalf. “She’s not going to get away with this,” Her voice was sharp, tight with anger. Jake piped up, “Aren’t you still friends with Luke?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. “Fight fire with fire, just this once.” He begged, clasping his hands together and tucking them under his chin, wide eyes staring at you.

Your lips curled up into a smirk. If Arzaylea wanted to play dirty, you could play even dirtier. Katrina beamed, her tears disappearing. “Call him,” She instructed. Sam watched you, looking nervous, but excited. You reached for your phone, your smirk never leaving your face. “That’s your murder-face,” Colby observed, raising his eyebrows. “What exactly is your plan?”

Your smirk just grew wider, to the absolute delight of Tara and Jake. “You’ll see!” You sing-songed. The glint in your eyes spoke volumes. You were getting ready to win the fucking war.

Sure enough, Luke had seen the tweets. He was just as angry as your group of friends, and you watched him bemusedly as he threw things around his hotel room, shouting obscenities about what a rat Arzaylea was. He yeeted yet another pillow across the room, storming around like a tornado. Finally, you held a hand up and let out an ear-piercing scream. Luke stopped what he was doing immediately, and turned to face you. His bright blue eyes reminded you of someone else, and your heart panged in your chest.

“I have a plan,” You announced. Luke stood in the middle of the room, his gorgeous face untwisting from the scowl that it was previously set in, to a lovely smirk. “I’m in,” He replied. You wrinkled your nose at him, smiling amusedly at him. “I didn’t even tell you what it was yet!” You protested playfully. Luke grinned, and his dimples deepened. You stared at him, transfixed. Your heart was set on someone else, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t admire the work of art standing in front of you.

A few days later, several demands from your friends on when you were going to strike, and a few dozen mysterious smirks from you later, your plan was revealed. “Turn on channel six,” You instructed Sam, who immediately scrambled for the remote. The television flickered to life, and Sam immediately hit the number six.

Sure enough, Luke was sitting on a plush chair, looking somber. He was sans bandmates, even though Michael begged him to let him come along, so he could roast the absolute shit out of the Krusty Krab. Luke denied his request, ignoring your hysterical laughter in the background during the phone call.

“So,” Ellen Degeneres began, looking sympathetically at Luke. “You’re here to talk about your toxic ex-girlfriend today?” Luke nodded, his somber expression intensifying. You stifled a laugh. “Yeah,” Luke replied. “Because it’s not only me, that she’s hurt. It’s been several people, and she won’t stop until she’s called out, like she likes to do to so many other people who frown upon her actions.” You bounced on the couch gleefully. Sam was stifling his laughter from behind his hand. Katrina and Tara were outright cackling. Colby looked impressed.

Luke went on to detail his relationship with Arzaylea, explaining in detail the way she would cheat on him with someone else who she thought had a bigger following, and the way she would beg herself back into his life. The way she urged him to try cocaine, and got him hooked. He went on to detail the way she chased after attention, the way she had left him as soon as there was someone else higher on the food chain.

Colby’s eyes were wide when Luke was finished with his story. The room was silent, and you swore you heard some sniffles from the audience. You mentally applauded Luke for not only his bravery, but his willingness to do this for you. It was something he’d wanted to do for years, but never knew how to go about it. You hoped that he felt freed from her now.

You silently clicked the television off, then turned to face your friends. The instant you moved, you were engulfed in Colby’s arms, and he was hugging you tightly. “Thank you,” Colby’s voice murmured softly. “For looking out for me.” You snuggled into his embrace, melting against him. “Always,” You replied, your voice just as soft. “I’ll always look out for you, Colbs.” His arms tightened around you in response.

You pulled back and looked at him searchingly. “I’m sorry if you really did like her,” Your voice remained soft. “I just didn’t want you to get sucked into her cycle, like Luke did.” Colby’s eyes met yours, and his expression warmed instantly. “It’s whatever,” Colby shrugged. “She wasn’t the one for me. But she helped me pull my head out of my ass, and made me realize that the one for me is closer than I think.” His gaze was meaningful, and you grinned in response. Colby’s lips curled into a soft smile. “In fact, she’s sitting right in front of me.”

Your cheeks flushed, but you nodded, a sweet smile gracing your face. “Yeah,” You replied softly. “She is.”

#colby brock fanfiction #colby brock #colby brock imagine #Sam and Colby #colby brock fanfic #xplr #traphouse #tara yummy #katrina stuart #sam golbach #jake webber #luke hemmings #cole robert brock

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basically-i-write-shit · 5 years ago

Text

You Feel Like Home

I had to write a Danbrey wedding. Takes place in the Mama’s home universe, but could be read as a regular old human AU. Ao3 link

Aubrey fidgets with the hem of her skirt, leg bouncing nervously as Jake drives Mama’s truck out to the small botanical gardens between Kepler and Greenbank that her and Dani’s wedding is set to be. She wonders if she’s under dressed. Dani’s wearing a whole dress, she’s going to look so pretty, what if Dani wants to get a divorce because she can’t even dress nice on her wedding day?

She’d thought her wedding outfit was cute, but maybe it’s not. She didn’t even go with a full suit! Just a black button up and tucked into a black tulle skirt. The most color on her is her tie, which is a nice fiery red, and the sequined cropped jacket that’s definitely way too hot right now, she’s burning alive--

“Aubrey. You’re going to be just fine.”

Aubrey’s head whips up, eyes finding the rear view mirror, and finds Mama looking up at her. Mama’s wearing a suit. Aubrey should’ve worn a suit.

“I-- I feel so stupid, Mama. What if I-- What if I don’t look good? I know it’s stupid to think about when I’m getting married, it’s not important in the long run, but what if--”

“Aubrey Little, are you really scared right now? I don’t think I’ve seen you scared in all the years I’ve known you, even in that first year I had you.”

Mama’s stern voice is enough to calm Aubrey down, or at least get her to stop word vomiting. She takes a deep breath, actually turns in her seat so she can face Mama. Jake makes a distressed noise, and she feels bad a moment because she knows how paranoid he gets while driving, but he doesn’t argue with her any.

“I just love her so much, Mama. I don’t want to mess anything up on the first day of the rest of our lives.” She says, and her voice cracks, and no she can’t start crying now, her makeup is already done--

The car pulls to a stop, and Aubrey lifts her head again, confused. They still have a couple miles to go. Jake places a hand on her shoulder, smiling softly.

“I think you need a bear hug right now. Get in the back, and I’ll start the car up again.”

“Thanks, Jake.” Aubrey kisses his cheek, leaving a bright red lipstick stain, and clambers in the back of the car without getting out. Mama doesn’t complain, only hugs her tight and tucks her hair back in place.

“Aubrey, you and Dani are the first I’ve ever been able to see get married. Y’know that?”

“Yeah?”

The car starts to move, and Aubrey takes a few deep breaths. They’ll be there in a couple of minutes.

“You’re the only ones who’ve even made it close. That’s how in love you are. I’ve seen my kids have flings and hookups, but no one -- and I mean no one, not even Barclay -- has stayed together long enough with someone. You and Dani are meant to be, and I mean that with every fiber of my being. Jake and Barclay and I, we all watched you two from the beginning. There ain’t no doubt in my mind that you’re gonna make it through the first day, the next day, and every other day after that.”

And just like that, Aubrey thinks she might cry again. She sniffles, hugging Mama closer and hiding her face against Mama’s shoulder. “You really mean that?”

“Of course I do. But this stress ain’t about you lookin’ good, is it?” Mama asks. Aubrey stiffens a bit, before shaking her head. “If you think it’s better for your daddy to walk you down the aisle instead of Ned, that’s fine. I’m sure it won’t cause Ned no hard feelin’s and if it’ll keep your dad from causin’ a fuss...”

“No, I want it to be Ned. Ned’s been more of a dad in the last few years than my dad has. I just...will you be there with me when I tell him, Mama?”

Mama smiles, rubbing her back soothingly. “Of course I will. Then I’ll go check up on Dani, and give her the same talk because I’m sure she’s panicking just as much as you. Mama’s gotta take care of her girls today.”

“Thanks, Mama.” Aubrey laughs a bit, smiling. She sits normally for the last minute of the car ride, and once the car is stopped she hops out and makes a beeline for Ned, who’s standing near the altar talking to the officiant. She knows Jake’ll help Mama out of the car, right now she just needs to talk to Ned.

“You’re going to be just fine, Dani,” Moira’s almost done curling Dani’s hair, so she can’t do much to comfort Dani but make eye contact through the mirror and use her free hand to pat her shoulder. “Aubrey’s been snapping me all day, and she’s so excited she won’t stop asking about you.”

“Yeah?”

“She looks gorgeous, too. Oh, you’re a lucky one.”

“Hey, that’s my wife,” Dani laughs, tilting her head back, and Moira laughs along as the pushes her head gently back in place. She sighs happily as they settle down. “I’m so lucky. How do you think she’s doing?”

“Probably equally as nervous. That’s how I know you guys are going to be the best gay wives.”

“Aubrey!”

Aubrey smiles as her father engulfs her in a hug, hugging back stiffly. “Dad, hi, how are--”

“I waved when you got out of the car, but you must not have seen it, you ran straight to Edmund over there.”

“Right. I must not’ve seen.” Aubrey says. Things are still awkward between them, and they don’t see each other often, so of course Aubrey would run to Ned. Right? It’s not weird.

Aubrey’s father smiles at her, pats her shoulder. “I’m so happy to get to see you get married, baby girl. After-- After everything, I thought you’d never let me back in your life, let alone invite me to your wedding...”

“We’re doing really great, dad. I wanted you here. Dani makes me really happy.”

“Good. Good!” Her father pulls her in for another hug, laughing a bit. When he pulls away he has tears in his eyes. “Gosh, you look beautiful Aubrey. I always thought you’d wear a tux. Your mother wanted you to wear a dress. I guess we both got what we wanted, huh?”

“Yeah, I, uh-- Neither of those felt right, but a little bit of both just...fit.”

“That meant to be a bi joke there, Little?”

Aubrey laughs as Duck’s hand finds the place behind her shoulder blades, the park ranger finding her side as Mama stands off to her other side. “Yeah, just a teeny one. Was it that obvious?”

Aubrey’s father looks a bit uncomfortable-- they never really talked much about Aubrey’s sexuality, let alone joked about it, and so it’s quite odd for him to hear it happen. He smiles nonetheless, offering out a hand to Duck. “I don’t think we’ve met yet. I’m Aubrey’s father.”

“Duck Newton, it’s a nickname,” Duck says, and Aubrey snorts. He’s sticking with that introduction, alright. “I was here Aubrey’s first night in Kepler, and I gotta say, she’s grown some even in the last few years. You must be very proud of her.”

“Oh, the proudest. I can’t believe I’m walking my baby down the aisle tonight.”

Aubrey sucks air through her teeth, cringing, and her father looks at her confused.

“Aubrey?..What-- What was that?..”

Aubrey looks at Duck for help. He squeezes her shoulder. She takes a deep breath. Duck’s right there. Mama’s right there. Jake’s nearby. Dani’s nearby. She can do this. Like a-- Like a bandaid.

“Dad, you’re...not walking me down the aisle. Ned is.”

“I’m sorry, wha-- Who’s doing what?”

“...Ned is wa--”

“I heard that. I just-- You-- Aubrey, I am your father!” Her father says sternly, and Aubrey flinches. Almost immediately Mama wraps a protective arm around Aubrey’s shoulder and Aubrey leans into her thankfully, tearing up a bit. Fuck, this is so stupid. Maybe she shouldn’t have invited him. “I am your father, Aubrey, and fathers walk their daughters down the aisle--”

“Now Mr. Little, you ain’t gotta cause a scene.”

“I quite think I do, Miss Cobb. My own daughter has decided that I’m not enough for her!”

“That-- That’s not it at all, dad! I just-- Ned-- he--”

“After everything I’ve done to get you back, Aubrey--”

“That’s enough,” Duck’s deep drawl calls out over the shouting, and silences them all. Jake had come running up, and now leans against his legs panting. He reaches a hand out and Aubrey takes it, squeezing as she tries to figure out the right words to make him not so angry. Luckily, Duck and Mama have their own words ready apparently. “Mama? Got anythin’ to say to Mr. Little here, or should I?”

“Oh, boy do I.” Mama hands off her cane to Jake and steps up to Aubrey’s father and for a moment Aubrey thinks she might punch him. “Mr. Little, I highly advise you don’t use any guilt trippin’ on my kids, and yes she’s my kid. You ain’t earned that right back yet. You say you fought to get her back in your life, well you’re fixin’ to lose her again you keep talkin’ like that. I’ve got four ‘r five big fellows around this venue who’d just love to throw you out, myself included, but Aubrey wanted you here. So be grateful you even got the invite.”

Aubrey and her father both look at Mama in shock, though for two completely different reasons-- Aubrey’s father because no one’s ever spoken to him like that before, and Aubrey because Mama defended her so vehemently. Sure, Mama loves her like her own kid and has said it enough times, but hearing is different than witnessing.

“Aubrey Little is one of the best people out there, and you’ve caused her a helluva lot of pain. I’d suggest apologizing to her and sittin’ pretty until the reception.”

Mama returns to Aubrey’s side as Aubrey’s father processes her threat. He clears his throat and swallows thickly.

“I...I’m sorry, Aubrey. It’s your decision, and I’m sure you have your reasons. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go...find my seat.”

“Knock knock,”

“Aubrey Little, don’t you dare, it’s bad luck!”

“Well I’m sure glad I still sound young to you gals,” Mama teases as she peeks into the storm shelter Dani and Moira have set up shop in. She has a warm smile on her face as she steps all the way in, and she looks like she may cry again. “My, don’t you two look gorgeous. You especially, Dani.”

“Thanks, Mama.”

“Y’know, it seems like just yesterday I was lettin’ this scared little eighteen year old into my home, and now here she is at twenty-three and getting married.”

The look on Mama’s face alone has Dani tearing up, and she fans at her eyes so her mascara doesn’t start to run. “Mama, don’t go making me cry like that! I’m already on an emotional roller coaster right now! How’s Aubrey doing?”

“She’s just fine. A bit shaken up after tellin’ her father he ain’t walkin’ her down the aisle, but she’s just fine. With Jake and Duck and Ned right now.”

“I wish I could’ve been there for her when she did that, I know she’s been worried about it...” Dani sighs. “But she’s alright now?”

“She’s gettin’ taken care of, don’t you worry.” Mama says, moving to sit down, and only then does Dani realize something.

“Mama, where’s your cane? You know the doctor says you need to use it,”

“Must’ve left it with Jake after chattin’ with Mr. Little. I’ll get it in a minute.”

Dani turns to Moira, and she nods, kissing Dani and Mama on the cheek before disappearing to go grab Mama’s cane. That leaves them alone.

“Is Aubrey really alright? If her dad made her cry, I swear I’ll go out there in my dress and--”

“Dani, she’s just fine, sunshine. I promise.” Mama says exasperatedly, reaching over and grabbing Dani’s hand. She has the most fond look on her face, and Dani can’t help but smile. “How you doin’? Really?”

“I’m good. Nervous. But that’s normal for your wedding day, right?”

“Well, I don’t know from experience, but I think so,” Mama laughs.

“I’m so happy, Mama. I love Aubrey so much.”

Mama squeezes Dani’s hand with a soft smile. “Trust me, the feeling’s mutual. You two are one of the most well-rounded couple I’ve seen in a while, and it’s clear you’re crazy about each other. You’re gonna go far, and if you ever feel like you don’t like livin’ in your own place, Mama’s always got room for her favorite girls.”

Dani laughs brightly, tossing her head back. “I think we wanna live on our own for at least the first year, but we’re both gonna miss you guys.”

“Well I’m expectin’ you two to come over for dinner at least once a month. It’s gettin’ lonely with Jake spendin’ more time at Hollis and Keith’s.”

Dani hums and nods. “Definitely. No need to worry about that, Mama.”

Moira comes back in with Mama’s cane and Mama stands, taking it.

“I’ll be back in a little while to walk you down the aisle, kiddo. You look gorgeous, you’re gonna do great. Now, I’m off to check on Barclay and make sure he gets here on time.”

Dani stands, follows Mama to the door. “Thank you, Mama. It means a lot that you’re here.”

Mama smiles. He puts a hand on Dani’s shoulder, squeezing.

“You’re gonna do great, kid.”

Oh god. Oh god, oh god. Aubrey’s heart is beating so fast. Dani looks so fucking beautiful. Oh god.

One of Moira’s compositions plays from a speaker, and Aubrey bounces nervously at the altar, Jake on her side and Moira on the side Dani’ll be standing on; Ned, from his seat, gives her a quick thumbs up, but she doesn’t see it, she can’t take her eyes off of Dani.

It looks as if they both decided on nontraditional outfits, because Dani’s dress is a light blush pink and reaches just below her knees, sweetheart neckline, a tasteful amount of sparkle. Her hair is down, long blonde hair pinned away from her face by some sparkly pins that Aubrey is for sure stealing after this, her makeup is impeccable.

It feels like Dani will never reach her-- Aubrey almost runs down the aisle to meet her in the middle, but she does’t, she sits patiently until Dani is in front of her, Mama giving them both a kiss on the cheek before she finds her seat in the front row next to Ned. Aubrey tears up a bit, and she eagerly takes Dani’s hand.

“You look beautiful,” She whispers, and Dani giggles.

“You too, babe. Love the jacket.”

Aubrey grins as the officiant clears his throat and begins the ceremony.

It’s officially the start of the beginning of the rest of their lives.

#the adventure zone: amnesty #taz amnesty #the adventure zone amnesty #danbrey #taz dani #aubrey little #taz aubrey #taz mama #fluff #wedding

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silverwing2522 · 6 years ago

Text

Fix-it-upper

This is for my girlfriend Mari @creedslove

LadySabes x reader (whom i use the name yani)

Victoria and yani had been together for a few months. This was new territory for Victoria who had been used to people just wanting what they could get from her.

This was their first valentines day together and Victoria was really nervous. So wanted everything to do smoothly and to be really nice.

After all the violence and pain in her life, she was ready for some softness in her life.

But she wasnt sure what to do, how to be. She was scared of screwing up or having her heart broke.

She didnt know what to get her new honey neither. She didnt wanna go for the cliche chocolates or teddies or flowers. She wanted something better. But she also couldnt get over the fact that Valentines day WAS such a cliche. It was safe to say she was torn. She had never spent valentines with anyone!

But the days and weeks of worrying made her forget when the day actually came.

She was a late sleeper and dozily got up and plodded downstairs where Yani was making some sandwiches for lunch.

Victoria went and checked the planner for the day and took some orange juice from the fridge...and froze.

It was Valentines day! Today! Shit! Like a deer in the headlights she turned towards her gf and gulped down the last of the juice in her hand.

"H-hey baby... happy vanetines day!!" Victoria said whilst trying to think of something she can do and pass off as something already planned.

Dinner she'd cook dinner! She couldnt cook to save her life, but its the thought that counts right?!

"Happy Valentine's day!" Yani chirped back happily.

Victoria waited...and waited...

Well where the hell was her card and present?!

She watched yani go and sit down on the sofa and turn on the tv. Did she forget? Was this a game? What was going on?!

"Er.. are we...have you...HUN! wheres my card and gift?!"

"I didnt think i needed to? I mean its a commercial thing...right?" Yanis tone shifted. Oh shit...did she get this wrong! I mean her honey was always hesitant with showing affection, it was hard to know. Victoria celebrates Valentines?!

On the one hand she found it really sweet and touching that her big badass girl of hers was actually a big softie sweetheart who does corny stuff like valentines. But on the other...she was totally illprepared for this. Mostly she was worried how she was going to react now.

Victoria rocked back on her heels and took a deep breath. "I see...so you thought that because its not a big deal for you, it wouldnt be a big deal for me?"

"No...well...a little, but...i didnt know it was! Hun, if i knew i wouldve...ya know...prepared a bit...im sorry...are you okay?"

"Im fine" Victoria responds flatly and walks back upstairs and slams the door.

Yes she forgot, but this...this...'frail' just 'assumed' she didnt celebrate something meant for couples. Yes it was a tacky day. But she still wanted a tacky day with her kitten. She wanted to be sappy with someone. And she thought she could with her. Old feelings started to stir in her. And her heart started to break.

Yani downstairs started to really worry. She knew about Victorias past. And really hoped she hadnt ruined things between them. Or worse, that Victoria was hurt by her. She didnt know what to do.

Upstairs Victoria sat on the bed and found tears rolling down her cheeks. Yani was the first person she ever loved. But it was clear she didnt feel the same way. But she had been so sure. Just the way they spoke. But the more Victoria recounted stuff, she saw a difference. In every fight, Victoria was the one to defend yani against explodes and punches. Whenever they were seperated by missions, it was only Victoria who would send her stuff back home. Whenever Yani was sad, Victoria would do her best to find her stuff to cheer her up. This came with a lot of effort on Victorias part, because every time she did this, she felt like she was offering her heart on the chopping block. She was just waiting for the knife to come down. But she kept trying, it was hard for her, but she believed in them as a couple so strongly. But today...today she didnt feel that yani felt the same way.

There was a light knock on the bedroom door as yani called to see if she was okay. Victoria shot up off the bed and whipped open the door with a snarl. GET OUT!! JUST GO!!

Yani stood there in shock. "N-no! no!"

"I said. Get. Out!"

"NO! im not leaving. Victoria ive said im sorry, what more do you want from me?! Its just valentines day! come on! You know i love you"

"Do i?! DO I?! ha! no, but this is just the icing! When was the last time you did something nice for me? When was the last time you went out of YOUR WAY to express how much i mean to you? HUH?! WHEN?! you dont love me! So dont even try that! Its just words, yani!"

Yani began to sob. She loved Victoria with all her heart. She was her everything, her whole world. "I do love you. I love you so much" she groaned feeling the bottom of her stomach drop. She could feel Victoria pushing her away and she was scared of losing her for good. "You are so important to me. I screwed up today, okay? But that doesnt mean throwing away everything we have, and could have! Im not leaving Vick! im not! youre gonna have to manually pick me up and throw me out because I AM NOT GOING ANYWHERE!! ITS NOT JUST WORDS! IM NOT LEAVING YOU. NEVER. YOU ARE MY MATE AND THIS....ME AND YOU...IS A FOREVER KIND OF DEAL! YOURE THE FIRST THING I THINK ABOUT WHEN I WAKE UP AND THE LAST THING I SEE BEFORE GOING TO SLEEP! AND YOU DAMN WELL KNOW THAT! okay, so we can improve on things and...and i will try to express affection in other ways.... BUT I AM NOT GOING TO LET YOU GIVE UP ON US!

Victoria stood there in the door way and watched her kitten explode. Her shoulders and head slumped down as she pouted. She wasnt leaving. She didnt want her kitten to leave. but she was always expecting her to. She'd leave herself if she could. The sad truth of the matter was that Victoria never felt like she mattered much to anyone. But the fact she so vehemently wasnt going to leave, made Victoria lift her heart a little and made her believe that maybe...maybe things can be different and in time....maybe she could be different. Be better. She turned, taking yanis hand and led her to bed, curling her arm around Victorias waist. "Just hold me, okay?"

Yani sniffled and buried her face in Victorias back and whispered "Okay....its okay....im here...im sorry vicky, im so so sorry... we'll make it better okay?"

Victoria silently nodded and tightened her hold on her mates hand. Just stay. And keep me safe from the monsters.

"I love you Victoria Creed." yani whispered, kissing her back.

"I love you too" Victoria whispered in a emotionally broken tone. She was going to take some work. "Im sorry im so broken"

"youre not broken baby....you just need some TLC...which youre gonna have an endless supply of with me" yani smiled, feeling so much love for her mate.

Victoria released her hold and turned round and buried herself into yanis chest and held her close to her. "Promise"

"I promise"

#marvel #marvel comics #lady sabretooth #valentines #valentines day #angst #mood

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broomballkraken · 4 years ago

Link

Title: Far From the Tree

Fandom: Fire Emblem: Three Houses

Pairing(s): Sylvain/Lorenz

Word count: 2852

Warnings: N/A

Summary: Lorenz knew that semi-frequent Roundtable meetings were necessary to make sure things were running smoothly in Fódlan, but he sometimes wished that they were a little less...dull. Well, thanks to the antics of his most mischievous child, this meeting in particular would definitely be one to remember.Written for Lorenz Week 2020 Day 2, Prompt: Iris

Lorenz had been fully prepared to take up the mantle of governing the County of Gloucester after his father retired, and it flourished impressively under his rule. Luckily, he did not have to carry the full weight of governance himself, as his husband had been raised to someday inherit a noble house as well and knew the ins and outs of politics. Sylvain had been the best life partner that Lorenz could have ever asked for, both as a joint ruler of Gloucester territory and as a parent to their many adopted children.

Roundtable meetings were currently taking place at the Gloucester-Gautier estate, and Sylvain was off in talks with the former Kingdom lords. Lorenz, meanwhile, was discussing the various issues in southern Fódlan with the heads of the noble families of the former Alliance. It was turning out to be rather uneventful, and Lorenz couldn’t help but wish that these meetings would be a little less...dull at times.

“Well, I for one do not see how this will benefit my territory at all.”

Lorenz bit his tongue to stifle a groan as the most aggravating man he had ever met spoke up from across the table. Acheron was causing discourse...surprise, surprise. Lorenz stole a glance to his left, where Holst was not hiding his displeasure at all, judging from the glower that he was sending Acheron’s way. Next to him sat Marianne, who had a pleasant smile on her face, but Lorenz noticed that she was biting her lower lip slightly, telling him that she also was also getting tired of Acheron’s shit.

“Please, do say your piece, Acheron...quickly,” Holst said, muttering the last word under his breath, and Lorenz cleared his throat to prevent himself from chuckling. Acheron let out an arrogant huff as he stood from his chair, and made to move behind it.

“Well, I must say that-ack!” Acheron yelped as he suddenly fell face-first to the floor, and Lorenz’s eyes widened with shock.

“W-What is the meaning of this?” Acheron said from his spot on the floor, but from his seated position, Lorenz couldn’t see what he meant by that. Holst burst out laughing beside him and shook his head.

“What’s wrong, Acheron? Your poor arguments have you stumbling before you can even vocalize them?” Lorenz would have chuckled at Holst’s jab, but the high-pitched shriek that suddenly came from under the table made his blood run cold with panic, and he made a desperate effort to get to the other side of the table as quickly as possible.

Acheron growled as he reached under the table and pulled out a familiar face at the Roundtable meetings: Iris, the troublemaker of the Gloucester-Gautier children. He had a vice-grip on her arm, and she struggled violently against his hold.

“Let go!” she yelled, and promptly bit down on his hand, causing Acheron to let out another yelp as he jerked his arm away. Iris was knocked to the floor in the process, and Acheron loomed over her as he seethed with anger.

“You little brat! How dare you humiliate me! Someone ought to teach you some manners,” Acheron hissed, and he brought a hand up over the wide-eyed child, prompting Holst and Marianne to shoot up from their seats.

However, they missed their chance to intervene, because before Acheron could bring his hand down, Lorenz had moved in front of Iris, pulling her behind him as he intercepted Acheron’s wrist. Acheron scowled at the girl before turning his gaze to Lorenz, and the absolutely venomous glare that he was met with caused the lesser noble’s face to go deathly pale.

Lorenz continued to stare icily at Acheron, his vehement anger threatening to boil over as he started shaking slightly. “If you lay even one finger on her, or any of my other children,” Lorenz finally managed to say, his voice dropping low as he tightened his grip on Acheron’s wrist, “I will send you out of this estate in so many pieces that no one will be able to identify who they belong to.”

“Are you threatening me, Lorenz?” Acheron sneered. His eyes widened with shock when Lorenz let go of his wrist and grabbed his collar instead, yanking Acheron close so that Lorenz’s piercing, enraged gaze bore deep into his eyes.

“Yes, you degenerate, contemptible bastard.”

“How dare you-”

“Hey, cool it!” Holst suddenly appeared behind Acheron and dragged him back by his arms. Marianne had moved to stand in front of Lorenz, and she had to place her hands on his shoulders to keep him from pursuing the target of his unbridled rage.

“Lorenz,” she said, her eyes flicking from his down to Iris, who was clinging to her father’s leg and sticking her tongue out at Acheron, “Let it go, please.” Lorenz closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

“Very well,” he said, glaring at Acheron one last time before bending over to gather Iris into his arms.

“Er, why don’t we take a break? We can resume in an hour or two, yeah?” Holst suggested. A murmur of agreement passed through the room, and everyone slowly emptied out, with a still-seething Acheron storming out the door first.

Lorenz sighed as he looked at Iris, who was blowing raspberries at Acheron’s back as he left the room. “Iris...stop that.”

“But Father, he-”

“Thank you Marianne, Holst.” Lorenz interrupted Iris, who huffed in annoyance, but kept quiet. Marianne smiled and Holst barked out a laugh.

“Oh, it was nothing! It’s about time something exciting actually happened in these boring-ass meetings,” Holst said, as he headed for the door, ruffling Iris’ hair as he passed, “See you later. We’ll go keep an eye on Acheron for you.”

“I appreciate it.” Lorenz watched as Marianne followed Holst out the door, before he set Iris down and turned his disapproving gaze to her.

“Iris…”

“Wow, Father! You were so cool!” Iris giggled and a toothy grin crossed her face. “You really told him off!”

“I am glad that you think I am cool, but,” Lorenz’s gaze bore into Iris, and she frowned, glancing down at her feet as she smoothed out the nonexistent wrinkles in her dress, “I have told you countless times not to sneak into the Roundtable meetings.”

Countless was almost an understatement. Ever since he and Sylvain had adopted Iris off of the streets - after she had been caught trying to pick-pocket Sylvain - Lorenz had caught her snooping in on every single Roundtable meeting that had been held at the Gloucester-Gautier estate. Sometimes she dragged her poor brother Yarrow with her - bless his timid, easily-persuaded soul - but it was mostly a solo operation. Lorenz was still perplexed as to why she did this, as he had never gotten a clear answer out of her.

“But…”

“And,” Lorenz raised his voice slightly and Iris’ mouth snapped shut. “Why on earth did you tie Acheron’s feet together?” She had certainly never done anything like that before, and even though Lorenz held nothing but contempt for the bastard, he would have thought that he had taught his children how to conduct themselves properly.

Lorenz watched as Iris’ lips pursed and her eyes narrowed into an angry glare. “Father, he’s an awful man!” Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, and to Lorenz’s surprise, she started trembling. “You and Daddy always say that lying is bad, and Acheron was lying about you!”

“Me?” Lorenz blinked in confusion, and Iris continued on, her voice rising in volume to almost a yell as her eyes took on a watery sheen.

“Yes! He-He said that you were a bad count, and that you would run Gloucester territory into the ground, and that you are a-a dis...um...disgrace to the nobility!” Iris’ ranting halted, as she had started crying and could not talk through her sobs. Lorenz watched her with wide eyes, before a soft smile crossed his face. Ah, so that’s what it was. How very like her to jump right in to defend someone else without stopping to think.

“Darling,” Lorenz said, kneeling down and wrapping his arms around Iris, who let out a frustrated huff as she rubbed at her tear stained cheeks, “you should not let those kinds of things affect you so much. Such slander from a man like him means nothing to me.” Iris sniffled as her anger-induced crying slowed, and she lifted her head from Lorenz’s chest.

“How...how can you say that?” Iris said as she grit her teeth, “You and Daddy are so wonderful and nice and amazing. You...you gave so many kids a home...even a bad kid like me, who tried to steal from you…” Lorenz’s heart clenched as he watched her start crying again, and he held her, rubbing her back gently.

“Deep breaths, dear. Easy,” Lorenz whispered soothingly, cradling the back of her head as she took a few quick breaths. Eventually, her breathing evened out, and after a few more quiet sobs escaped, she managed to compose herself.

Pulling out a handkerchief, Lorenz dabbed Iris’ eyes and cheeks dry, and she muttered a quiet thank you. Chuckling softly, he placed his hands on her shoulders, prompting her to turn her gaze to his and look him in the eyes.

“Iris, please do not put yourself down like that, my darling,” Lorenz started, and she sniffed, but managed to keep herself from bursting into tears again, “Your dad and I love you very, very much. You are a smart and kind girl, and we are both very proud of you.”

“Father…” Iris choked out, rubbing her eyes as a few more tears managed to leak out.

“You and your siblings are our greatest treasures, and I do truly appreciate your attempt at defending me, but please refrain from doing so again. I do not want you getting hurt,” Lorenz continued. The wave of terror that had coursed through him when Acheron raised his hand to Iris was something that he hadn’t quite felt before, and could go without feeling ever again.

Iris swallowed thickly as she nodded. “O-Okay...I’m sorry…”

“It is quite alright. This would not be a problem if you just stayed out of the Roundtable meetings.” Lorenz sighed and shook his head. “Why do you insist on sneaking into them?” He did not expect an actual answer, but to his surprise, Iris looked up at him with a curious glint in her eyes.

“I just...They’re interesting,” Iris said, “I don’t understand too much of what you talk about with the other nobles, but, um, it always seems important and sometimes you all get kinda loud and it gets kinda exciting. I guess I just have fun watching you talk about important noble stuff.”

Lorenz blinked at her a few times, stunned. “You...Really? You are interested in what I do?”

“Yeah! I wanna be just like you when I grow up!” Iris exclaimed, and Lorenz laughed as he ruffled her hair.

“Well, when you are older - and if you refrain from sneaking into any more Roundtable meetings - I could let you sit in on some with me.”

“Really?!?” Iris’ eyes went wide as she bounced on her feet excitedly. “Yay! You’re the best, Father!”

“Yes, yes. Now, run along and join your siblings outside.” Lorenz didn’t have to ask twice, and after she hugged him, she rushed to the door.

“And remember, no more sneaking into-” Before Lorenz could finish speaking, Iris had already escaped the room, and he sighed as he shook his head; he would have to make a mental note to check under the table before every Roundtable meeting from now on.

As he now had some time to kill before his meeting resumed, Lorenz left the room to seek out some tea. Some time later he was walking down the hall, feeling much better with a cup of warm Bergamot in him.

“Hey, babe! You’re done early.”

Lorenz smiled as he turned to find Sylvain smirking at him as he leaned against the wall. His own meeting with the nobles from the former Kingdom territories must have adjourned early as well, or they were also on a break.

Pushing away from the wall, Sylvain closed the distance between them, pressing his lips against his husband’s. Lorenz sighed as he embraced Sylvain; it was always a comfort, kissing him after a long meeting, especially one as exciting as this one had been. Speaking of that…

“Sylvain, darling,” Lorenz said when he pulled away, “My meeting is only half over, because there was a...disruption.” Sylvain sighed as he ran his hand through his hair.

“Iris again?”

“Yes, but this time she was not only listening in on the meeting, but she tied Acheron’s feet together and caused quite the ruckus.” Lorenz barely got through the sentence before Sylvain doubled over laughing.

“Oh my gods, she did not!” Lorenz crossed his arms over his chest as he waited impatiently for Sylvain to compose himself, and the serious look in his eyes caused the smile to fall from Sylvain’s face.

“Yes, she did, and Acheron almost hit her for it.”

“He what?” Sylvain’s demeanor completely changed from amused to absolutely furious in the span of two seconds. He snarled as he pushed up his sleeves and took a step down the hall, “Where’s the cowardly fucker? I’ll knock his fucking teeth out-”

“Sylvain, please.” Lorenz placed a hand on his angry husband’s arm, and Sylvain’s narrowed eyes moved to lock with his. “I already threatened to dismember the bastard, so I believe he will think twice before trying anything so heinous again.” Sylvain stared at Lorenz for a moment, before a huge grin slowly spread across his face.

“You threatened him? Prim and proper Lorenz Hellman Gloucester-Gautier actually threatened someone with bodily harm during a political meeting?” Lorenz felt his face grow hot as he huffed with annoyance and turned away.

“Yes, and?” Lorenz grumbled, and Sylvain chuckled as he took his hands and pulled Lorenz close.

“I dunno, just thinking of you going all angry papa bear on Acheron is...kinda hot,” Sylvain said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Lorenz groaned and rolled his eyes so hard that he was shocked that they didn’t pop right out of his head.

“You are insufferable.”

Sylvain laughed and pulled Lorenz into a tight hug, and Lorenz’s annoyance melted away as he smiled and embraced his husband in return.

“Seriously though, thank you Lorenz,” Sylvain whispered into his ear, “for protecting our daughter. You’re the best husband and father to our children that I could have ever asked for.” Lorenz pulled away from Sylvain, and he chuckled as he pressed their foreheads together.

“I couldn’t do it without you, darling,” Lorenz whispered, giving Sylvain another quick kiss, “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

They gazed at each other for a moment, before Lorenz remembered something and his eyes widened.

“Ah, that’s right.” Sylvain raised an eyebrow at Lorenz as the latter crossed his arms over his chest. “Iris finally told me why she is always sneaking into the Roundtable meetings.”

“Huh, really?” A look of genuine shock crossed Sylvain’s face, and he waited for Lorenz to elaborate.

“Yes. She told me...that they interest her, and that she wants to...be just like me when she grows up,” Lorenz said, and the beaming smile that Sylvain shot him caused Lorenz to blush.

“Iris always was a clever and sneaky one, a perfect combination for a politician.” Sylvain said, and Lorenz gave him a playful swat on the arm, “But you know what they say: ‘The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.’ I think Iris might seriously take after you someday, Lorenz.”

“Hmm, perhaps.” Lorenz scratched thoughtfully at his chin. “We shall see if she is still interested in a few years.”

“Sounds like a plan.” A mischievous grin suddenly crossed Sylvain’s face, and he bit his lower lip as he snaked his arms around Lorenz’s neck.

“Hey, babe,” he said, his voice dropping low and causing Lorenz’s face to heat up, “When do you have to be back for your meeting?”

“Hmm, in about an hour and a half, I believe.”

“Ah, great, same here.”

“Why?” Lorenz raised a suspicious eyebrow, and Sylvain chuckled as he moved his lips to Lorenz’s ear.

“Because,” he whispered, and Lorenz shivered as Sylvain’s warm breath hit his ear, “I meant what I said, about you threatening Acheron.” Sylvain pressed himself flush against Lorenz, and he immediately felt what Sylvain was talking about.

“Really? In the middle of Roundtable negotiations?”

‘Hehe, yep. There’s a perfectly good closet right here.” Sylvain moved his hand to the small door behind him and turned the knob. “No one will even know.”

“Ugh, you really are an insatiable degenerate.”

“But I’m your insatiable degenerate!”

Lorenz rolled his eyes, but he could not deny the heat that was building within him, so he smirked as he grabbed Sylvain by his shirt, yanked him into the closet, and slammed the door shut.

“You’re godsdamn right.”

#fire emblem three houses #lorenz hellman gloucester #sylvain jose gautier #sylorenz #fanfiction #jade writes fanfiction

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fangirlandiknowit101 · 7 years ago

Text

Reverse AU drabble

I’ve wanted to write a reverse AU for the longest time so I wrote this, indulging myself. Contains some mentions of nsfw themes.

There are three things Viktor loves, but only one of them causes him an equal amount of grief.

The first is Makkachin, most adorable and wonderful poodle in the whole world.

The second is the ice, and the feeling of freedom that comes with it.

Third is Katsuki Yuuri, Japan’s living legend, Viktor’s gay awakening and dream husband.

A week ago, Yuuri announced his retirement.

“Vitya, I know you’re in there! It’s been a week, stop this nonsense and get back to practice!”

It’s Yakov calling through his apartment door, and Viktor sends him a resentful look from his position on the couch. He then resumes watching Yuuri’s record-winning free skate from the Olympics, a pathetic whine making its way out of his throat when Yuuri lands a perfect quad flip.

For years Viktor’s dreamt of competing against his idol, to share the same ice and maybe – in his wildest dreams – a bed as well. He’s well aware of how impossible the bed-sharing is, and so he’d thought that if he at least got to meet him as a competitor…

But no. Life is cruel and Viktor is not the only Russian skater in the men’s single division.

“Yeah, he’s not even that good anyway!”

Speaking of other skaters, Viktor feels his mood sour further as Yuri Plisetsky joins Yakov on the other side of the door. He’s pretty sure that Yuri is just tagging along to mock Viktor. After all, it’s a well-known fact that Yuri hates losing to Katsuki, and Viktor loves reminding him that most of the time that’s exactly what he does.

“Vitya! Open up or we’ll come in anyway!”

Viktor’s head falls back, and Makkachin licks his chin. A mere week is not long enough to mourn the loss of figure skating’s brightest and most handsome star. In fact, Viktor is not the only heartbroken fan, even if he takes the loss a little more personally than most others.

I was almost there, he thinks, scrubbing at his eyes. Just ten more points at the European championships and they would have sent me.

He doesn’t resent Georgi for being picked instead of him, but… Okay he definitely resents Georgi. He hopes his girlfriend breaks up with him or something.

There’s the click of the door unlocking, and Viktor sinks deeper into the couch. Another of Yuuri’s performances plays on his phone, an exhibition skate this time. Viktor knows them all by heart, anyway.

“Oi, what’s with this pigsty?!” Yuri exclaims, kicking at an empty pizza carton on his way over to the couch. “What have you been doing all week, crying?”

Viktor sniffles, cuddling Makkachin closer to his chest.

“It’s none of your business.”

“Fine!” Yuri throws his hands in the air, turning to Yakov. “I tried, can I leave now?”

Yakov sighs, coming around to sit by Viktor’s feet. Makkachin scrambles over to be petted, and Viktor glares at her for abandoning him like that.

“Vitya, listen. I know he was an important motivational factor for you, but binge eating on the couch for a week is not the answer.”

Wrong. Yuuri is his only motivation, and Viktor’s heart is broken in a million pieces. He doesn’t know how to move on from this point in time. He can’t move on after this.

“I don’t think he’s listening,” Yuri mutters, hand on hip, intimidating and pretty and a menace on the ice.

Viktor definitely kind of resents him, too. There’s been a lot of rumors going on about how the infamous rivalry between Katsuki and Plisetsky has led to more than one night of passion, and despite Yuri’s vehement denials, Viktor feels like he’s getting stabbed every time he thinks about it.

“I just need some time to mourn,” Viktor tells them, combing his fingers through the loose end of his long braid, where the hair tie has gone mysteriously missing.

“Mourn,” Yuri spits, stalking over to tower above him, one hand on the back of the couch so he can lean into Viktor’s space, shoulder length hair tickling Viktor’s face. “Like you’re the only one who cares about Katsuki quitting out of nowhere!”

Swallowing against the lump in his throat, Viktor squints accusingly at him.

“So you are sleeping with him!”

Rather than get mad like Viktor expected, Yuri stares at him for long, good while, eventually rolling his eyes so hard that Viktor fears they might get stuck. He then digs his phone out of a pocket, tapping at it with unnecessary force, and soon enough dial tones are coming out of the speaker.

“Ah, Yuri, it’s been a while.”

Viktor is dead. Dead.

“Katsuki, have we ever slept with each other?”

“Huh?! Slept with- Why are you asking that! Of course not!”

Red creeps up Viktor’s cheeks as Yuri gives him a look. Only some of it is from shame, however. Yuuri’s voice just has that effect on him.

On the inside, Viktor freaks out.

On the outside he’s frozen, staring at the phone like it’s connecting them with the voice of god.

(In a way, that’s precisely what it’s doing.)

“Just asking for a friend who refuses to believe me.”

“Oh! I see, um, wait! Are you on a date? Oh my god, are the rumors really that bad?!”

Viktor’s mouth open and closes like a fish. He wants to say something, because Yuuri is right there, on the phone, and he sounds exactly as kind and perfect as he does on TV.

“Why would I call you if I’m on a date, oh my god,” Yuri says, but Viktor can tell he’s not as angry as he usually is.

If they’re not sleeping with each other they’re at least friends, and Viktor can’t believe Yuri has kept this from him the whole time? He could have introduced them!

“I guess you’re right,” Yuuri replies, letting out an embarrassed little laugh that kind of does things to Viktor. “Was there something else? It’s pretty late over here.”

“Nah, I just wanted to-“ Yuri pauses, stares down at Viktor in contemplation. Then his teeth show in a downright evil grin, and Viktor feels shivers of fear run down his spine. “Actually, there is something else.”

“Okay?”

Viktor shakes his head, frantic. Whatever’s going to come out of Yuri’s mouth will not be good, and Viktor does not want to die because he was embarrassed in front of his longtime idol (and dream husband) without even being able to defend himself.

“Got any plans for the summer yet?”

“Summer? Ah, well. I’m not sure. I think I’ll return to Hasetsu, for a while.”

“Take a detour to Russia.”

“Eeeh? To Russia?”

Heart palpitating like mad, Viktor struggles to breathe. He claws at Yuri’s arm, making strangled noises and begging him to stop, but all Yuri does is straighten up and shake him off. It doesn’t matter that Viktor is taller than him, or can bench press more weight if he wants to. Yuri flicks him off like a fly, still grinning like someone with the most diabolical plan they can’t wait to set in motion.

“You heard me. I want to see for myself if you’re serious about this retirement crap.”

“I am serious, but…” Yuuri sighs, and Viktor hurts with the sound. “Well, I don’t see why not. I’ll check for tickets tomorrow, alright?”

“Good. Call me when you find something.”

With that, Yuri unceremoniously ends the call, raising his eyebrows at Viktor.

“Well?”

Staring up at Yuri, Viktor feels his eyes water, vision blurring as the lump in his throat threatens to choke him.

“Yuriiiiiiiii,” he cries, throwing his arms around Yuri’s waist and burying his face in his stomach.

“Ugh, gross! You’re getting snot all over my shirt!”

“I take back every mean thing I ever said or thought about you,” he sobs, Yuri awkwardly patting his head.

“Yeah you better, you dumb kid.”

“I’m twenty!”

“Yes yes, whatever. Are you coming back to the rink now?”

“Of course. Ah! But my apartment is such a mess! And my hair! I have to fix everything before Yuuri arrives!”

He makes a move to shoot out of his seat, but Yuri’s hand on his head pushes him back.

“It’s not as if he will arrive tomorrow,” Yakov grunts, Viktor puffing his cheeks at the words.

“But what if he does!”

“Worry about your jumps in that case!” Yuri scolds him, and Makkachin lets out a bark as if to agree.

Viktor slumps into the couch, Makkachin stepping onto his lap to lick at the tear tracks on his face.

“Nooo,” he whines, flopping his arms aside dramatically. “It’s over, I’ve forgotten how to skate.”

“Vitya-“ Yakov starts, but Yuri grabs him by the ankle and drags him off the couch.

“Rink! Now!”

Three days later, Yuuri arrives in St. Petersburg.

#fangirlandiknowit update #victuuri writers #yoi fic #putting this in the tags for once #i had too much fun writing this haha

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delicatefury · 8 years ago

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TDPL snippet - The Padawan Discussion, round 2.

I got 2 likes and a hell yes, so here’s the next NaNo snippet. I wrote it on it’s own because it was one of the scenes that begged to be written. It’s the second of three conversations regarding Luke and Leia’s potential as padawans and who will be teaching them.

These conversations are necessary because Obi-Wan, self-sacrificing, self-deprecating man that he is, long ago came to the conclusion that if Anakin had had any other choice, Obi-Wan probably wouldn’t have been his master (comparisons to Qui-Gon were distinctively effective in planting this idea). As such, he is determined to ensure the twins know that they can have any available master and refuses to claim them for himself. He doesn’t want them staying with him out of any sense of obligation or thought that they have no other options.

Stupid, yes, but he’s Obi-Wan Kenobi, and his master and student did wonders in building up his self worth.

So the Padawan discussion, Round 1 is between Luke and Leia. Round 3 is between Obi-Wan and the Council. Round 2, though, is Luke and Obi-Wan.

Also, slight, very slight Anakin bashing and less slight Jedi-defending ahead.

Anyway, enjoy.

“I know… I know I made a big deal about being a Jedi like my Father,” Luke beings. “And I’m not taking it back,” he hastens to add. “I wanted to be a Jedi at first because he was. I guess I just wanted to know him in someway. But I didn’t wanna be a Jedi like my Father, y’know?”

Obi-Wan does not know. Luke has been adamant on preserving Knight Anakin Skywalker’s legacy. He’d made that very clear. To Master Yoda, to himself, to Vader, and especially to the Emperor. As a result, Obi-Wan finds himself puzzled trying to find the meaning behind Luke’s words.

“Why ever not? If any Jedi proved that attachments are not necessarily a bad thing, that they can save lost souls and bring them back to the light, I would think it would be your father. He certainly taught me quite a bit about it.”

“Yeah, but… I looked him up, y’know. Anakin. His Jedi career, I mean,” Luke says. He’s looking at his boots, at the desert wrappings he’s managed to keep despite otherwise acquiescing to the initiate uniform. “And you were right. I mean, I’ve met him, now.” The boy gives him a wry smile. “He is an amazing pilot, a great warrior, a brilliant tactician, and a good friend.”

Obi-Wan returns the smile, hearing his own words echoed back to him, twenty-odd years before they were said.

“But…” the boy trails off.

“But?”

“I don’t think he’s a very good Jedi.”

Obi-Wan’s eyebrow rises at that. While he would not exactly argue, hindsight and all that, it was surprising hearing such a proclamation from Luke, the one person able to see the Light in Darth Vader.

“When Master Yoda died, I was alone. I still had you and Father around to advise me, but I was the only one who could rebuild the Jedi. So I had to decide what the Jedi were going to be.” The boy takes a deep breath. “I didn’t want us, well, me. I never had time to find anyone but Leia to be an ‘us’.” His smile turns rueful, and Obi-Wan thinks a look of such intense loneliness should not be on the face of a child so young. Obi-Wan remembers seeing that look on a young Anakin at a funeral pyre a decade and lifetime ago, and ignore the memory of seeing it on his own during a trip to a certain agricultural planet.

It won’t do to dwell.

“And what did you decide?” he prompts.

“I didn’t want to be pacifists, never lifting our weapons, and I didn’t want us to be isolationists, hiding from the galaxy so we could stay pure. The Republic would need us. Me. They would need me to undo a lot of the damage Sidious had done. To find the pockets of darkness that he left everywhere. And there was so much hurt and pain. Once I knew how to sense it, I could feel it everywhere. I finally understood what you felt with Alderaan. And… and I know how pain affected Father. It lingered in him. It never went away or got better. Instead, he dwelled on it, he feared it. But, I didn’t want to ignore it either, like some of the old books I found said. I didn’t want to pretend it wasn’t there. You can’t release a feeling into the Force if you don’t acknowledge it’s there.”

And, oh, the wisdom of children, Obi-Wan muses, to see that which so many of the Order misinterpreted, whether deliberately or not.

“I wanted the Jedi to be better. I wanted us to turn sorrow to sympathy and pain to compassion. I wanted the new Jedi to be strong enough to be kind, even if the galaxy took everything from them. To… to remember how easy it is to be hurt and to try not to inflict that on others. Maybe even find a way to take it on themselves, relieve other’s suffering, y’know?”

“You wanted your Jedi to be the opposite of the Sith.”

Luke nods. “I didn’t want to be the type of Jedi Father was,” the boy says. He takes a deep breath, bracing himself for his next words. The Force is whispering in Obi-Wan’s ear, telling him to pay attention. That what comes next is important, a fulcrum upon which the future might rotate.

“Ben,” the boy whispers, heart in every word, “I don’t want to be a Jedi like my Father was. Is. I want to be a Jedi like you.”

And once more a Skywalker has shattered his heart. He’s beginning to forget what it feels like whole. It takes him time to respond. He opens his mouth to speak, and finds a large lump blocking his words. He swallows, and realizes his eyes are over-wet as well. He’s forced to blink a few times as he struggles to get his breathing back under control.

“You wanted to be like… me? Whether for the good of the galaxy or not, I lied and manipulated you, Luke. I’m very good at it.”

The boy shrugs. “You were hurt and in pain. It’s kinda obvious how much you love Anakin.” Obi-Wan was tempted to point out it was obvious to everyone but the man in question. “I’d be telling myself the same things if Han or Leia did even half of any of what he did. And I was really mad at you when I found out. You still should’ve told me yourself but… I tried to lie to myself about Vader, too.”

“Luke…” The boy really is far too forgiving.

Said boy suddenly looks up and meets his eyes. There is a defiance, a spark challenging Obi-Wan to deny him.

“I read your journals. Not all of them.” It’s a bit of a non-sequitur, Obi-Wan thinks, but Luke evidently has a point he wants to make. “I didn’t… didn’t get the chance to complete them, y’know. But I read about what happened during the drought. Uncle Owen hated you, tried to hurt you, but you were always nice to him. The Tuskens tried to kill you, but you just disarmed them cause they were weaker. Everyone back home can barely stand Jawas, but you helped them. The only way you could stop yourself from helping was to never interact with people, ever.” Obi-Wan wants to cringe. He had hated, well, resented at times, that he’d been put in a position where he was forced to choose between others and Luke. He’d chosen Luke, like always. It makes him a terrible role model, he thinks. The boy in question, however, seems to disagree.

“You saved everyone that day when you stopped the slugthrowers, y’know? Jabba’s men would’ve just murdered them all because they were dying of thirst and angry, and you helped them without even thinking. That’s the kinda Jedi I wanted to be. The kind of Jedi I want to be.”

Obi-Wan finds that words have failed him. Perhaps it was for the best that Owen had kept Luke far away from Obi-Wan. With his ability to render the great Negotiator speechless, the boy probably would have convinced him to hijack a freighter off the planet and join the rebellion before he was six years old.

The mood shifts suddenly. Luke has his feet planted in a stance that reminds him of Anakin. But the way his jaw is set is pure Padme.

“I know Father betrayed you. I know I’ve got a lot of his faults and problems. But I promise, I won’t fail you. I’m not afraid!” There are tears in the boy’s eyes as Luke repeats to Obi-Wan the same words he said to Yoda on Dagobah. “I won’t fall to the Dark Side. I won’t.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t even have to check to Force to know which action to take next. But he gladly obeys it’s commands to gather the tear-stained boy into his arms and hold him close. Luke responds instantly to the comfort, collapsing into near silent sobs of frustration, weakened by the intensity of his emotions.

“Shh… Luke, shhhh.” Obi-Wan murmurs in the boy’s ear, hand reaching up to rub wide circles on his back. “You have it wrong, my boy. So, so wrong,” he confesses into blond hair.

Calmed, Luke sniffles and pulls back. He stares back at Obi-Wan through watery blue eyes. He’s confused, but determined to make sense of the emotional wreck he has made of Old Ben.

Obi-Wan answers him with a wan smile of his own. “I am not afraid of you falling to the Dark Side, Luke. I do not believe that there’s a fundamental flaw in the Skywalkers. Large hearts that care oh so much, but that carry the capacity to bring so much Light into the world, like you’ve proved yourself several times over.” The smile sharpens into a smirk before fading away.

“I’m worried that I will fail you. I don’t exactly have the greatest track record for padawans. The one who was solely my responsibility destroyed the Order. The one who I helped train left it and apparently spent the next decade or so of her life proudly proclaiming the fact that she was not a Jedi.”

“You taught me.”

“For all of two weeks. Master Yoda did far more for you than I did.”

The boy shakes his head vehemently, pure denial flowing in the Force around him. “Master Yoda was great, but I only trained with him for six months. Everything else, I learned from you. From the books and stuff you left for me. Even though you weren’t there, you were my teacher.” The boy gets a frightfully concerned look on his face. “Wait… do you… do you not want us around?”

Truly, there should be a law or a provision in the code that prevents younglings from tugging on heartstrings this effectively.

“Luke… I want to teach you, and Leia, far more than you can possibly imagine. But don’t think you that you are obligated to stay with me out of some sense of loyalty. The finest knights and masters of the Jedi Order’s entire history are available to teach you now.” Obi-Wan does not want to push Luke and Leia on another master. He wants to hold them close and keep them safe, as he has wanted since the moment they were born. But it has never been about what he wants. He could never forgive himself for binding Luke and Leia to him out of selfish need. So he continues to try and reason with the boy. “Master Windu knows how to channel anger and the Dark Side without letting it cling to him, a wonderful gift for those who must constantly face the darkness in the galaxy. Master Yoda, I know, would agree to teach you once more if you wanted him. I convinced him to do so when you were twenty-two, I think I can do so again now that you are twelve. Master Fisto recently knighted his padawan, and is certainly one of the greatest Jedi you’ll meet. The only reason he is not on the council yet is because of his humility. He will be raised within the year. And those three are only a handful of the top masters in the Order. Other members of the council would take both of you as padawans in a heartbeat, and if they refuse you, I will advocate for you until they do. I am not your only option.”

Luke has that stubborn set to his chin again, but Obi-Wan can see his lip is trembling. “I don’t want the top masters, or the best, or… or… or whatever you’ll call everyone else. Leia and I already agreed. We want you. That is… if… if you want us.”

And suddenly it is not Padme or Anakin’s reflection that Obi-Wan sees before him. It is ginger hair, saber bruises, and eyes defiant even as their owner cannot comprehend what’s so wrong with him that he isn’t wanted.

And Obi-Wan wishes it were possible to kick his own ass for being such a Force-blind fool.

While the Force is great, his ally, and in agreement that he is an idiot, that is a feat it cannot grant him. So, he follows it’s guidance, makes his choice, and swallows until he can find his voice again. “Go get your sister.”

Luke hesitates, not sure if he has won or not.

“Now, Luke.”

The boy dashes off, and Obi-Wan takes the time to recover.

Of all the ways to take after Qui-Gon. The Force is more comforting than he deserves, but he lets himself be assured. He caught himself. He listened. Yes, he acted out of fear, but it was fear born of love for the children, of wanting the best for them, not a fear of the pain a betrayal might cause. Of all his master’s mistakes and flaws, this is one he won’t repeat.

But there is something else there. Something small and trembling in his heart, overwhelming him. A hurt he’d stopped acknowledging long ago beginning to heal. Luke and Leia had already discussed this, had agreed long before he asked. All the available masters in the Jedi order available to teach them, and they had chosen him.

By the time Luke returns with Leia in tow, Obi-Wan has centered himself is standing in front of the couch once more. The twins are confused, rightfully so, but when he motions them to sit, they comply.

“At least once in my life I am going to do this the correct way.” He takes their right hands, Luke’s in his own right, Leia’s in his left, and kneels so he is closer to eye level.

“Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa,” he meets their eyes, uses their old names, their true names. The names with which they best know themselves. It may be the last time he can say them out loud for a long while. “Will you do me the great honor of agreeing to be my Padawan learners?”

Leia is the first to respond, silently nodding, starting slow, but gaining speed. “Yes.”

“Yes!” Luke’s agreement is instantaneous. And, like so many times since they’ve reunited on Jakku, Luke launches himself into a hug. This time, though, he drags Leia with him. “Yes, yes, yes yes yes! I told you, Leia!”

“Thank you, General Kenobi, for taking us both,” the girl whispers into his shoulder, and Obi-Wan realizes that, for all her strength and fire, that trembling he’d felt in the silk-thread of their bond had been fear. Fear that, regardless of his attempted assurances otherwise, he would abandon them, or worse. Far wrose, she’d been afraid he’d separate them, take Luke but leave her in some other master’s care.

He clutches the children, his children, his padawans, though making it official will have to wait, even closer. Never, he swears, never again will I allow them to fear I will leave them.

Though parting is inevitable, never would he do so willingly, and always would he come back. After all, he thinks ruefully, even death has failed to part me from the Skywalkers before.

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