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witchthewriter · 1 year ago

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𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑶𝒏𝒆.

⤷ gender neutral, Valyrian blood (dragon rider), and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: I was inspired by @reiignonme, and I just HAD to do this. I'm so excited to write it. Also, I do know that dragons are aggressive creatures, but to their bonded rider, they're different.

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐍:

・The God of Dragons, is what his title should have been

・But to you, he wasn't the intimidating beast that everyone saw him as.

・To you he was a work of art, a creation so wonderous that your breath hitched whenever you saw him.

・You show your love to him by laying beside him, treating him with respect and dignity.

・You hate leaving him on his own, but you allow him his independence.

・Never in a million years would you put him in the Dragonpit, chained and waiting for you.

・And in turn, he shows you his love by fiercely protecting you. He will fly you anywhere, and calls whenever he's beckoned.

・Only obedient to you, he doesn't listen to anyone else but you. However, it's almost as if he's level-headed and can be reasoned with.

・The other dragons fall in line and let him lead - which means you're the leader as well.

・His roar is earth-shakingly loud. And it can be heard from miles away.

・All of your subjects bow to you, knowing your power.

・Because we know, that a dragonrider has the same traits as their dragon.

𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐗𝐄𝐒:

・Is quite the adventurous dragon; she isn't one to be paraded around like Silverwing or Dreamfyre. She rather dislikes large crowds, preferring mountainsides and flying over oceans. She doesn't like small spaces either.

・Bonding with Meraxes was like bonding with a Border Collie - always has energy and curiosity

・But unlike Quicksilver, Meraxes is less energetic in a comic sense. She's more mature; more battle-worn.

・Will protect you unrelentingly.

・Hates sudden loud noises

・But loves hearing how much you love her and how much of a good job she's done

・Her teeth are smaller than the other dragons, but more pointed/sharp and there's more of them

・Her roar is also more high pitch and of a scream

・Meraxes' scales are pearlescent and seem to move in the sunlight

・Not many people know that, because she doesn't like being approached by others.

・That's why she isn't kept in the dragonpit.

・But she isn't as aggressive as Vermithor or the Cannibal

・You can tell that she wants a mate though, and often tries to woo Balerion - but he wants none of it.

𝐕𝐇𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐑:

・She shows her love by waiting for you to sit on her saddle before taking off.

・You have to shout out the command to fly and then, she takes off.

・You have a very special bond with Vhagar, which clicked into place because you would spend more time looking after her than making her fly.

・For example, talking to her, brushing/washing her, stroking her face.

・For those who don't think dragons understand - you're wrong because they really do. That's why some riders have a bigger bond than others.

・Some just see their dragon as an animal, as a beast. But those that see them as apart of them, that's when the true bond clicks into place.

・And you knew that being pampered is everyone's dream - or just being doted upon. So, because you put in the hours for her, she does the same for you.

・She obeys your commands without question, because she trusts you.

・But she doesn't like anyone else touching her, in fact there's a few trainers with burnt hands because of Vhagar.

・She loves laying in the sun, and will fly you to a beach to lay in the sand. Often you're chastised by your family for bringing sand into the castle.

𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑:

・LOVES TO FLY

・She's the type of dragon to be like, "let's go faster! let's go faaaaasteeeer!"

・Isn't as aggressive as others, but would rather be away from people if able.

・Hates being paraded around

・But will do it if persuaded with food and belly rubs (although most dragons don't like to expose their stomachs as it is one of their most vulnerable body parts)

・When you introduce her to a friend or acquaintance, she does a big roar and then huffs a laugh at the person's scared response

・One of the more docile dragons like Silverwing

・Has similar colouring to Meraxes, but unlike her, Quicksilver is smaller but nimbler.

・One of the fastest

・Can beat anyone in a race

・And she LOVES to race

・Has to be ridden everyday otherwise she goes hyperactive and will lash out at the trainers

・Once when you were bedridden for a week, she flicked a whole group of trainers with her tail and then let out the biggest flame she had ever expelled.

・Tail flick = I'm irritated, Roar = I'm hungry or is trying to scare someone for a laugh, Fire = she is actually angry, Baring her teeth = scared

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐁𝐀𝐋:

・No one is allowed to approach him, hell no one is allowed to look at him.

・He's an incredibly aggressive and temperamental dragon. One that hates everyone but you.

・Completely black, he's known for eating other dragons - which makes him an outsider. No dragon, no matter how mighty, doesn't feel safe around him

・Even Balerion keeps his distance

・You weren't sure whether to keep his name or not, since you did have an emotional connection with him.

・But you guessed that he like being intimidating

・You have to feed him yourself or he will go hunting for dragons or sheep. Hasn't actually eaten a person, but has killed many.

・As he's your bonded dragon, people are a lot more intimidated by you. Since dragons and riders have somewhat similar traits.

・Although he does like showing you his den. He looks at you like, 'it's nice, isn't it. Did you see the bones I placed at the front? Yeah...it's to scare people off...'

・You see him differently than others see him. You aren't afraid of him. It's how you were able to bond with him in the first place.

・There was something in his eye that you thought was vulnerability, rather than hostility.

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑:

・His favourite form of physical touch is being scratched, like, really really scratched.

・Vermithor's back leg will wobble in absolute delight

・Especially when you get to those places where he cannot reach himself

・Doesn't like anyone but you doing it (or anyone but you being in the room when you do it)

・He's a very private & grumpy boi. Doesn't like being woken too early either. And likes to have an afternoon nap.

・And an angry/aggressive one too. He doesn't like being woken up early, and once you had to dodge out of his firing line. When he realised it was you, he made a really long upset face (that only you and his only other rider, Jaehaerys has seen)

・But he's incredibly loyal, and would die for you.

・What's important to you, is important to him (unless it's before 8am)

・Can sense when you're overwhelmed and will let out a huge roar so no one comes near

・Likes when you fall asleep with him. He may like his solitude, but he doesn't mind company (it depends on the company)

・Actually likes doing royal processions because he gets to show off how big and scary he is. He knows it's too remind the people of whose in charge.

𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆:

・The least aggressive out of all the dragons (but that doesn't make her a formidable foe.)

・It's almost as if Silverwing understands that dragons keep people in line, but an approachable dragon keeps the respect and admiration of the people

・If she's patient and sociable with others, then you know damn well she has all the love, patience and affection for you.

・She shows her affection by nuzzling into your open palm, her eyes closed and you swear her lips are in the shape of a smile

・Wherever you are - standing alone, or in a crowd etc., she has her body wrapped around you; shielding you.

・And when you're alone together, she'll lay down and let you rest with her, and/or on her. Then, she'll fully wrap around you to help you warm up.

・She absolutely loves spending time with you. Funnily enough, she's a very outgoing dragon.

・She won't let you come into any harm though. Either because she herself has placated the people who could hurt you (the common people) by interacting with them calmly and gently.

・And if anyone tries to hurt you, she's the first to react. Although her temperament seems calm, she is highly protective of you and will burn someone to ash if they try to hurt you.

・When you're in King's Landing and the King demands that Silverwing be put in the Dragonpits, you sneak down to sleep with her. You have a very tight bond.

・Otherwise, she takes you somewhere else to sleep; amongst the grass, so you can fall asleep underneath the stars.

#witchthewriter #dragon headcanons #house of the dragon headcanons #headcanons #preferences #dragon preferences #witch the writer's headcanons #witch the writer's preferences #balerion #meraxes #vhagar #quicksilver #the cannibal #vermithor #silverwing #dragon dictionary #dragon directory

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m1ckeyb3rry · 6 months ago

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── PEREGRINE // ONE

Series Synopsis: The ways that you and Seishiro Nagi fall together and fall apart over the years.

Chapter Synopsis: You wrap up your affairs before flying over to your hometown, where your best friend will soon have his wedding.

Series Masterlist

Pairing(s): Nagi x Reader, Kira x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 5.2k

Content Warnings: unhealthy relationships, cheating, non-linear narrative, probably ooc, angst, nagi is endgame, kira sucks, alternate universe, original characters

A/N: you know it’s a m1ckeyb3rry fic when the main love interest doesn’t even show up for the first few chapters…also please note this is NOT THE FIRST CHAPTER of the story there is a prologue before it!! which gives a lot of necessary background so you’re not (as) confused by the plot

divider credits: @/benkeibear

“Sora,” you cooed at your cat, your torso jammed beneath the bed as you tried to pull her out. “Dearest Sora, please don’t make this so difficult.”

“I told you you should’ve gotten rid of her when you had the chance,” Ryosuke said from where he was folding clothes to put in his suitcase. “Honestly, I don’t get why you insist on keeping her around. All she does is shit in the house and make problems.”

“She uses her litter box like a good girl, and she doesn’t cause trouble on purpose,” you said. “She’s an animal, not a person. She’s not capable of malicious intent.”

“Whatever. All I’m saying is that things would be a lot easier if you had just left her at the shelter when you moved in with me,” he said.

“I’ve had her for years,” you said, finally getting a grasp on her body and yanking her out in one swift move. “She’s a part of my family. I don’t know why you’re so determined to hate her.”

“She hates me, too!” he said. True to form, Sora hissed at him as you walked past, her ears flattening to show the disdain she had always held for him. “And you always take her side. It’s like you like her more than me!”

You rolled your eyes. “She’s a cat. You’re jealous of a cat.”

And you’re the one who’s cheating, anyways. You left this second part unsaid, because it wasn’t really relevant to the conversation, and besides, you had done such a good job at maintaining the facade of normalcy in your relationship that it would be a waste to break it just because he was annoying you.

That didn’t stop you from scowling at him when his back was turned, pressing a kiss atop Sora’s head and smiling when she purred at the show of affection — or was it because you were in the kitchen and near to her container of treats on the counter that she was so pleased?

“I’m not sure what to do with you,” you admitted, scratching under her chin with one hand and opening the jar with the other, offering her half of a treat as a consolation for having ripped her so uncaringly from her hiding place. She accepted it daintily, which meant that all was forgiven, and you stroked her in appreciation.

She was an enormous, fluffy white cat, closer in size to a small dog than anything. Her eyes were a wide, endless blue, hence why you had named her Sora, and her fur felt like cotton when you ran your hands through it. You had had her for almost as long as you had been in America, and you thought that there was almost no one in the entire vapid country who you loved more.

Normally, if you and Ryosuke had to go somewhere, you’d drop Sora off at Chigiri’s. She liked him well enough, and he was typically glad for the company, so it was a mutually beneficial deal. But of course, this time, Chigiri would also be away, as he was attending the same wedding that you and Ryosuke were, which meant that you were somewhat out of luck.

Sora dangled limply in your arms like a heap of rags as you paced about the kitchen, trying and failing to come up with someone who could take care of her while you were gone. Finally giving up when you realized that Chigiri had been right, you really did need more friends, you picked up your phone and called the man in question.

“Yo,” he said, answering almost immediately, though you could hear the shower running in the background, which meant he was either about to get into the bath or had gotten out for the express purpose of answering you. Either way, you decided not to hold him up with useless pleasantries.

“Hey, Chigiri,” you said. “I heard you’re going to Reo and May’s wedding?”

“Yeah, I’m between jobs again, so it’s not like I need to take off work or anything,” he said.

“Again?” you said, your resolve to have a quick conversation shattering almost immediately. The sound of water stopped, which meant that he, too, sensed the call was probably not going to be a short one.

“Tell me about it. I can only land short-term gigs at the moment,” he said.

“Maybe you should just move away from trying to coach entirely,” you suggested. “You were a marketing major, right? You could probably go corporate.”

“I know, but I don’t think I’m that desperate yet. I’m sure something or another will come along. The issue is that no high-level team wants a coach who hasn’t played in years, but those high-level gigs are the ones that are much steadier in terms of pay and schedule,” he said.

“I’d want you as a coach,” you said loyally. “If I was a soccer player.”

“You’d be a shitty soccer player. I don’t even think my coaching could change that fact,” he said.

“You’re so mean to me,” you said.

“Someone has to do it,” he said.

“And there I was, trying to support you,” you said. “On a more serious note, though, any team that doesn’t hire you just because of what happened back then is stupid.”

“Oh, I agree completely, but try telling them that. It’s all ‘sorry, but we want a coach that has a little more experience.’ I have experience! The only reason our school ever won games was because of me, even after I stopped being able to play myself. It’s not like that dumbass coach ever did anything for us beyond praising your peacock bastard fiancé,” he said

“Exactly,” you said, though you had no idea how true this was, as according to Ryosuke, he had been the one to carry the team to victory. The roles Chigiri might’ve had to play in their victories, if any, had always been omitted.

“Ugh, it’s fine. Like I said, I’m sure there’s some youth league that’ll take me on next season, so it’s okay. I’ll work it out, like I always do,”he said.

“Let me know if you need help at any point,” you said.

“Always,” he said.

“In the meantime, uh, I actually need your help,” you said.

“Right, I was wondering why you had called,” he said.

“The thing is that I don’t have anyone else I can leave Sora with, so I was going to pay one of my company’s interns to watch her while we’re gone,” you said.

“Aw, make sure you pick someone gentle. She’s very particular,” he said.

“You know, she is my cat,” you said.

“Just reminding you!” he said.

“I think I know who I’m going to ask already, so as long as he agrees to it, it’ll be fine,” you said.

“Okay, so what’s my place in all of this?” he said.

“Ryosuke and I have to go over a little earlier, since I’m the maid of honor, so I was wondering if you’d be alright with watching her until you have to leave?” you said.

“Why, because you don’t have to pay me?” he said.

“I can, if you want,” you said. “It’s just so she can be somewhere she’s comfortable, since she’s never met this kid before.”

“I was just joking, don’t worry about it. Drop her off whenever,” he said.

“You’re the best,” you said.

“Yup,” he agreed. “Now, I was kind of in the middle of something, so…”

“Oops, right, go enjoy your shower,” you said.

“Wait, how’d you know I was showering?”

Although there were several interns working for your company at any given time, you generally paid little attention to most of them. You were too busy with your own work and life to care about their struggles, so beyond giving them advice when they asked and helping them out when you didn’t have to go out of your way to, you didn’t interact with them much.

There was one boy, though, who had caught your eye. Something about his aloof personality and quiet demeanor reminded you of a person you had known back in high school, and you had unofficially adopted him, though you weren’t sure if he was exactly aware of this fact.

Actually, he was definitely unaware, considering the way he all but jumped out of his skin when you sat across from him in the lunchroom.

“Hey, Niko,” you said brightly. His dark hair covered his eyes, so you couldn’t read his reaction, but if you had to guess, it was probably panic. If you were in his place, that was what you’d be feeling, considering it wasn’t exactly typical of the regular employees to hang out with the students.

“Um, hello, Miss L/N,” he said, somehow managing to keep his voice level. “Am I in trouble or something?”

“No,” you said. “I just need you to do me a favor.”

He got out of his seat immediately, pulling out his phone from his pocket and opening the notes app. You furrowed your brow as he tapped his foot expectantly.

“Well? What’s your coffee order? And which shop do you want me to get it from? I accidentally went to Starbucks the other day to get a latte for the director and he freaked out about it,” he said.

“Oh! He thinks Starbucks makes their coffee too sweet, that’s probably why,” you said.

“I learned that the hard way,” he said.

“Yikes, I’m sure that was not a fun conversation,” you said. “But that’s unimportant. I don’t need coffee, and you don’t have to say yes to this or anything. I guess you can consider it to be more of a request from a friend — although I promise I will pay you!”

“Okay,” Niko said hesitantly.

“I’ll just lay it on you,” you said.

“Go ahead,” he said.

“I’m going abroad for a wedding soon, and I need someone to watch my cat,” you said. “She’s very well-behaved and friendly! Honestly, she’ll just sit with you on the couch the whole time, I’m sure. I’ll give you her food and everything, and like I said, I’ll pay you, so how about it?”

For the first time, he looked up at you, his hair falling out of his face and revealing bright, shimmering eyes. He clasped his hands together, a smile threatening to dawn upon his face, and then it was your turn to grow bewildered by the sudden switch in his personality.

“Yes!” he said. “I’d even do it for free, Miss L/N.”

“Woah, are you a cat enthusiast or something? And none of that; of course I’m going to pay, or else it’d just feel like I’m taking advantage of some poor intern,” you said.

“I really like them,” he said. “I’ve had one my whole life, but my house is a three hour drive from campus, so I haven’t gotten to see her much since graduating high school. I really miss hanging out with her, though, so it’ll be nice to have a cat around, even if it’s only for a little while.”

“Perfect!” you said, cheering internally at how well things had worked out. “She’ll be staying with a friend of mine, so if you’ll give me your number, I’ll send it to him so you can coordinate picking her up at some point.”

“Sure,” he said, giving you his phone so you could type his number into your own. “What’s your friend’s name?”

“Hyoma Chigiri,” you said. Niko’s jaw dropped.

“Hyoma Chigiri?” he whispered. “You’re friends with him?”

“Do you know him or something?” you said, handing him his phone back. Niko shook his head.

“Not personally, but I remember reading about what happened to him,” he said. “It’s one of the reasons my parents convinced me to stop playing soccer.”

“Ah, maybe don’t mention it around him,” you said. “He’s doing fine now, but he still doesn’t like talking about it.”

“That’s understandable,” Niko said. “My lips are sealed. I just can’t believe I’m going to have Hyoma Chigiri’s number in my phone!”

“Feel free to act like a fan all you want,” you said, after the initial strangeness of meeting someone still so obsessed with Chigiri had passed. “He really appreciates it when people praise him. Though, you probably shouldn’t spam him or anything.”

“I’ll be just as responsible with his phone number as I will with your cat. Thank you for entrusting me with this, Miss L/N! I promise I won’t let you down,” he said.

“I know you won’t,” you said. “And, to be fair, it’s not really a difficult task. Just sit at home and watch TV a lot and be kind with her; if you can do that, then Sora will be perfectly content.”

“That’s what I’d do anyways,” he said.

“Great,” you said. “Now I can feel even less like I’m taking advantage of some poor intern.”

“Thank you again for your faith in me!” he said when you reached your office, bowing at you as if you were some kind of sage master that had offered him a great opportunity for personal growth.

At least he was taking it seriously. You thanked whatever deity had intervened on your behalf that you had found the one person within a ten-mile radius who would care for Sora as well as you or Chigiri would.

Unlike Ryosuke, you barely packed anything but the most basic of items. This was because you knew full well that the minute you stepped foot on Japanese soil, you would be dragged into Reo’s arms, whereupon he would force you into his car and take you shopping at the closest luxury mall — on his card, of course. He was prone to such acts when it came to you, mostly because you were one of the first true friends he had ever had, and so he tended to spoil you as if you were his baby sister or something.

“How can you be sure that Reo’s going to get you everything you need?” Ryosuke said, eyeing the suitcase you lifted into the trunk of the car. “It’s been a pretty long time since you saw him last. He’s probably matured a ton since then — I mean, he’s getting married! What kind of wife would be okay with her husband doting on some random girl?”

“For one, I’m not some random girl; I’ve known May longer than Reo has, and I’m also the one who introduced them to one another. She knows there’s nothing between us, so there would be no reason for her to not be okay with it. Secondly, I’ve been friends with Reo for so long that he’s more like a weird cousin of mine than anything. The Mikages look after their own, and it just so happens that I am, by proxy, one of them. So I can be reasonably confident that it’ll work out in that way,” you said.

“Don’t you feel bad, then?” he said. “You’re using your best friend for his money.”

“You’re so determined to find fault with our relationship,” you said. “It’s not like that. Everyone has different ways to show affection for the people they care about. It just so happens that Reo’s so wealthy that that kind of thing is his own personal manner.”

Ryosuke scoffed, pressing the button to turn on the ignition and starting the car without another word, prompting a worried mewl from Sora, whose carrier was currently on your lap. You tapped the side to remind her that you were still there with her, and she quieted at that.

“Don’t forget that we have to go to Chigiri’s first,” you said.

“Yes, yes, we’ll stop by your lover’s house,” Ryosuke said. At your surprised expression, he laughed. “What? You’re always with him or at his place. Any normal person would suspect it.”

There were a million things you could say in response, but the least-inflammatory was a repetition of the same thing you had been telling him since the day the two of you got together.

“You know I’ve never been with anyone but you,” you said.

“Of course,” he said. “I guess that’s true. No matter how many people you sleep with now, you can never change the fact that I was the first.”

“Hm,” you said, staring out of the window and speaking to his reflection instead of facing him properly. “Don’t be crude.”

“Come on, it’s just us two. When else can we make these kinds of jokes?” he said.

“You didn’t seem like you were joking,” you noted.

“Y/N, I’m hurt. You thought I was being serious? I mean, did you really think that I believed for a second that anyone preferred that washed up princess’s company to mine?” he said, stalling the car in the driveway and grinning. “Tell him I said hi.”

“You and I both know that’ll accomplish nothing,” you said, slinging the bag of Sora’s things over your shoulder and gripping the handle of her carrier so tightly that your knuckles whitened. “I’ll be back soon. No point in missing our flight.”

“I’ll be here,” Ryosuke said, waving at you as he began to fiddle with the knobs on the car’s dashboard, evidently trying to decide whether he wanted the radio to play classical music or the latest episode of some talk show.

You rang the doorbell and then stepped back, knowing it might take Chigiri a second to get to the door depending on where in the house he was located. Luckily, he had been expecting your arrival, so by the time your arm began to grow numb from holding Sora’s carrier, he was opening the door and inviting you in.

“Thank you again for doing this,” you said, setting the carrier down with a thump and massaging your shoulder. Chigiri crouched gingerly, unzipping the opening to the carrier and allowing Sora to peek her head out. When she realized where she was, she bounded out, rubbing her head against Chigiri’s legs as he breathed out a laugh and rubbed her face with his hands.

“Don’t mention it,” he said. “It’s nice having someone else in the house. Less lonely.”

Your face softened, and if it weren’t for Ryosuke’s presence looming in the driveway, you’d have leaned over and hugged him. But as it was, your fiancé was waiting, and if you lingered for much longer, you risked missing your flight.

“You have Niko’s number?” you said.

“Yeah. He’s kind of a weird kid,” Chigiri said.

“What do you mean?” you said.

“He keeps telling me that he thinks I’m cool and that he can’t believe he’s texting me,” Chigiri said, a faint pink dusting his cheeks. “So strange.”

At this, you smiled, vowing to text Niko and thank him later. His admiration was exactly the boost Chigiri needed when he was so down on his luck, and though he was pretending like he found it odd, it was obvious he was pleased by the attention.

“As long as he can take care of Sora,” you said. Chigiri nodded in determination.

“I’m sure he can. He obviously has good taste in other things, so it stands to reason that he’d be the kind of person who could really look out for her in the way she’s used to,” he said.

“You would be the first to die in a horror movie,” you said. “Did you know that?”

“What? Why would you say such a thing?” he said.

“Never mind,” you said. “I should go. Ryosuke’s in the car, and our flight is soon.”

Chigiri wrinkled his nose, his whole delicate face crumpling at the mention of your fiancé.

“I thought something felt off about the property,” he said.

“You are so dramatic,” you said. “He says hi.”

“Tell him I said fuck off,” Chigiri said.

“I don’t think — actually, sure,” you said. “I’ll do that. See you at the wedding. And Sora, please be a good girl for Chigiri and Niko alike.”

“She will be,” Chigiri said affectionately. Sora had wriggled her way into his arms, and he stood while hugging her to his chest, ready to shut the door behind you. “See you, Y/N.”

You were reluctant to leave, because it would be so easy to stay and talk with Chigiri while playing with Sora, but you knew you had to. Even that knowledge, though, was hardly enough — it was simply the thought of seeing Reo and May again that made you take the next step, and the next, all of the way until you were back in the passenger seat of the car and Ryosuke was reversing the car down the driveway.

“So, how is my beloved teammate?” Ryosuke said. “Did he leave you with a message for me?”

“Yes,” you said. “He told me to tell you to fuck off.”

Ryosuke chuckled. “Sounds about right. He’s always been a petty son of a—”

“Ryosuke,” you sighed. “Do you really get any gain out of insulting the only friend I have left in this country?”

“It’s the same gain he gets out of insulting your fiancé!” he said.

“Which I always reprimand him for,” you said. “And also, he at least has something resembling a reason to resent you. When you do it, it just feels excessive.”

“You defend me to him?” he said.

“Obviously?” you said. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

“I suddenly feel very cheerful and optimistic,” he observed.

“What are you talking about?” you said. He waved you off.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “It was a personal musing. Think of it like an interjection from the narrator, except that in this case, the narrator and the protagonist are the same.”

“Okay,” you said. “Sure. If that’s what makes sense to you.”

The two of you spent the rest of the drive to the airport in relative silence. Ryosuke hummed along to whatever pop song came on the radio, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel as he drove, and you texted your friends — mostly Reo and May, who had been anxiously waiting for your arrival since you had agreed to come at all.

When you had first started dating, you used to go on aimless drives for hours, talking about whatever crossed your mind. Not a second would go by without one of you speaking, but that kind of constant conversation wasn’t sustainable. Eventually, you both ran out of things to say, and so you began to spend more and more of your time together in silence. That was around the time that Ryosuke began to seek outside assistance in quelling the fire which was constantly blazing within him; whether it was a coincidence or a cause, you could not tell, but it remained that everything had happened at once and led to your relationship now being like this.

You always forgot how long the flight back to Japan was. It was the second reason you never visited, beyond the fact that there was hardly anything worth visiting in the first place — it was a day-long ordeal composed of arguing with the TSA agents, waiting in security lines, and of course the flight itself, which was only marginally bearable because Reo insisted on buying you first-class tickets.

You spent most of it dozing, the armrest between you and Ryosuke pushed up so you could lean your head against his chest as he watched a movie. In the haze of your sleep, you could feel his arm wrapping around your shoulders, his fingers idly stroking your cheek as if that were the natural outcome, as if there was no other place that they could come to rest. It was the easiest that things had ever been between you in some time, and subconsciously, you relished in it, in the soft scent of his cologne, in the warmth of pretending like you were loved by someone again.

Reo had told you, in no uncertain terms, to not even attempt going to the baggage claim. He had contacts in the airport who would take care of it, because of course he did, and so the only thing you and Ryosuke had to do was meet him and May at the gate. You stopped in the bathroom, mostly at your insistence, so that you could freshen yourself after the long flight, which had sapped you of most of your energy despite how much of it you had spent sleeping.

“Are you nervous?” Ryosuke said as you reached the door. He held both of your carry-on bags in his hands, an amused grin on his face as you all but vibrated with every step you took.

“Of course,” you said. “I haven’t seen them in so long, and I haven’t been back home in that same amount of time. I don’t know how it’s all changed. And what if it hasn’t? What if the only one who’s changed is me?”

“Only one way to find out,” he said, nudging you in the side. “Look who it is.”

Standing awkwardly by the metal barrier separating the airport from the street in front of it, surrounded by security guards that kept the rest of the crowds at bay, was Reo Mikage. He wore a pair of khaki shorts and a polo, sunglasses perched on his head as he checked the time on the — likely expensive — watch which he wore on his left wrist.

A grin split your face, your spirit rejuvenated as surely as if you had never been exhausted in the first place. Cupping your hands around your mouth to amplify your voice, you shouted out his name with glee.

“Reo!”

The boredom dropped from his expression immediately as his head snapped up, trying to determine the source of the noise. When he locked eyes with you, he beamed so brightly that you were all but blinded by it, and then you were both racing towards the opening in the barricade where you could finally meet.

You tossed your arms around his neck as soon as you could reach him, clinging onto him tightly, suddenly and unreasonably weepy at the fact that the two of you had finally been reunited. He did the same, squeezing you to the point that you thought you might burst from the pressure.

“I can’t believe you’re finally back,” he said, letting you go and holding you at an arm’s length so that he could look you over with a critical eye. “How have you been?”

“Good,” you said. “Where’s May?”

“She had to go to the bathroom,” he said. “She should be back in a couple of seconds, and she’ll probably be furious, too, considering she was really hoping she’d spot you first. I convinced her that it would be fine for her to take a moment to herself, and that it’d probably still be a bit of time before you arrived, but, uh, I guess it ended up being kind of an unfortunate coincidence in that sense.”

“What’s up, man? Congrats on the wedding,” Ryosuke said, finally catching up to you and offering Reo his hand. Reo glanced at it, and anyone who didn’t know him as well as you did wouldn’t have even noticed the way he hesitated before taking it and shaking it with the firm conviction of a businessman.

“Thanks, Kira,” he said. “You’ve been taking care of my best friend?”

“’Course I have been,” Ryosuke said, ruffling your hair. You did your best to force a laugh, not wanting Reo to have to concern himself with your wellbeing when he was about to be married. “You’ll be the one coming back to America for our wedding soon.”

“That so?” Reo said, raising an eyebrow at you. “I expect to be the first one invited to the wedding, then.”

“Was I the first one invited to yours?” you shot back.

“Er, I mean, not exactly…” Reo said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I had to tell Nagi first, since I wanted him to be my best man and had to give him adequate time to prepare for the hassle of the role.”

“Then I’ll invite May first, since she’ll naturally be my maid of honor,” you said, your stomach twisting at the mention of Nagi. “But you can be second, Reo.”

“That’s right!” a new voice said. “He had better be second, considering he sent me to the bathroom so that he could win our bet!”

And then there she was in front of you: Reo’s soon-to-be wife and your former roommate, May Ducat. Her thick brown hair was loose and wavy around her shoulders, and her peacock-feather eyes gleamed as she embraced you tightly.

“May,” you said. “It’s so good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you!” she said. “I miss you every day. Mostly because you were a much better roommate than this one. He snores.”

“Hey!” Reo said, gasping in offense. “I do not.”

You dug around in your pocket before solemnly presenting her with a box of breathe-right strips.

“I know,” you said. May clapped in delight, accepting them and then turning to hand them to Reo, who took them even as he protested that he definitely didn’t need them and how would Y/N even know if I snore, anyways?

“Congratulations, May,” Ryosuke said, offering her his hand as well. May glanced at but did not accept it, opting to smile frigidly instead.

“Thank you for coming,” she said. After a discomfiting pause, Ryosuke lowered his hand, brushing it off against his pants and clearing his throat.

“I couldn’t let Y/N come alone,” he said.

“Of course not,” she said.

“It’ll be my first time meeting her parents,” he said. At this, May gave you a sad look. Though you had never told her much, she had always harbored her suspicions, always been less fond of Ryosuke than she really ought to be, considering he was typically polite to her.

“I hope it goes well,” she said. Ever the diplomat, Reo was the first to break the ensuing silence, clearing his throat.

“Alright, then! I’ll have one of my drivers take you two to your hotel room, where your things will be waiting, and then tonight, we can show you around. Y/N, they just built a new mall where that park used to be, so we can go shopping there,” he said.

“They built a mall over the park?” you said, your eyes widening at the prospect. Reo nodded.

“Isn’t it great? It’s so much more convenient than the one we used to go to,” he said. You disguised your frown with a yawn.

“Right,” you said.

“Try not to sleep,” May advised. “It’ll help you break your jet lag if you just stay up for as long as you can.”

“We’ll do our best,” Ryosuke said. May gave him a measured look before nodding slightly, turning away to continue her conversation with Reo instead of risking further discussion with your fiancé.

The hotel you were staying in was only a few streets down from your childhood home, and as with all things Reo, it was excessively opulent. The shower itself was large enough to fit at least ten people, and you spent far longer in it than was really necessary, rinsing the grime of your journey off of yourself.

“Going to sleep already?” Ryosuke said when you crawled under the covers of the bed beside him. “May recommended we wait.”

“I know,” you said with a yawn. “I’m just going to lie down and close my eyes. I’m not actually going to sleep or anything.”

“Whatever you say,” he said, patting you on the head. “I’ll do the same, then.”

Before long, the both of you had passed out.

#nagi x reader #nagi x y/n #nagi x you #nagi seishiro #bllk x reader #bllk #blue lock #reader insert #modern au #peregrine #m1ckeyb3rry writes

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angel-of-the-moons · 1 year ago

Text

Nothing Is Lost

Khonshu x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Burnout, exhaustion, overworked (aren't we all?) shit gets a wee bit too relatable

A/N: Did I spend too much time looking through how the gods were worshipped? Yes, yes I did. Do I finally have a way to vent the weird feelings I have about the angry bird man? Also yes.

🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑

Chapter 1:

Dust and Echoes

Day after day, night after night. The dreadful tedium of your life was not lost on you. The same job every night, the same work that left knots and tension in your back and muscles, your arms feeling like they were about to fall off and your feet feeling like you had holes drilled into the bottoms...

You couldn't work during the day, it was just simply not in your schedule. No matter how you tried, it was hard to stay awake during the day.

You had a severe case of insomnia, no doctor you went to (when you could afford them, which you barely could) could prescribe anything that would help you sleep. You even tried hypnosis. That was wild.

The dude said you flipped out and started talking in another language, and he was half tempted to call the church on you! That memory was always good for a laugh.

Could be worse, you supposed.

After all, your night job was cleaning a small office building (four floors, and your coworkers almost never helped) which meant mostly deserted floors and dozens of vacant cubicles.

It was kind of relaxing in a way, you could plug in your headphones, blast your favorite tunes and just go off into your own little world while you cleaned.

The world which you concocted was one many overworked and underpaid individuals such as yourself dreamt. A nice big house, food in the fridge, never having to worry about missing the next bill payment or not being able to afford insurance...

But you always had to wake up from that dream world.

You hated that part of your night.

While yes, you have always found the comfort and coolness of the night soothing, there were still dangers lurking out there in the dark.

You'd taken some half-assed self defense classes (you had to drop out because of your sleep schedule), but your skills were lackluster at best. So, you opted for your mace and taser as your trusty companions.

You'd been attacked and mugged five times in the last year and a half. You learned to stop carrying your money on you after the second time, only keeping your metro card on you.

You wondered why, why of all places, did you decide to move to New York? You were a country girl blinded by the dazzling lights, a stupid cliché trope you hated yourself for existing in.

And what did your naivete earn you? A shitty one room apartment that was barely the size of most motel rooms. The only reason you stayed was because at least your apartment had that small kitchen, compared to the rathole hostels you'd unfortunately been victim to before.

Your landlord was shrewd and strict, but at least the rent was affordable. That was the only blessing. Because your electric and other utilities were covered in your rent, you really only needed to worry about money for food. Which... you had been subjected to a rather unhealthy diet consisting mostly of tv dinners, dollar menu fast foods, and cheap Chinese takeout.

Half the time you felt like there was more to this, but logic always kicked in.

Then again, everyone felt like there was more to life when their life consisted of being a faceless, nameless, replaceable cog in the corporate machine.

But for you, even despite your logic, you just... you could feel there was more out there for you. Something meaningful.

You couldn't place your finger on it, but you just knew. It was like an itch under your skin, a tingling in your fingertips.

You were special. You just... you knew you were. Sometimes you could predict what somebody was going to say before they said it, sometimes you could fix things you'd never even looked at before, sometimes, you swore you could see things before they happened.

Oh, and then there were the dreams. Those dreams gave you the willies.

Usually in those dreams, you were floating in a black void, blinking until things came into focus. Looking down at your feet, it was like you were walking on perfectly smooth water, stars blinking to life one by one, reflected on the surface like an inky black mirror, your own reflection not able to be seen.

You would walk and walk and walk... but never reached a destination.

That's when you would feel something. Like the first winter chill creeping into the autumn breeze.

A voice. Deep, raspy... mournful.

You could never make out what the voice said, but whoever it was, they sounded lonely; almost in pain.

But then all at once you would be swallowed up into a light, almost like you were falling back to the very Earth itself, waking with a jolt, your clothes soaked with sweat, your hair dripping with it.

Yeah. Those dreams were the worst. You never felt rested when you had them...

🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑

Today was one of the rare days you forced yourself out of bed and ventured out into the light of day. After all, humans need sunlight. And you were starting to look dreadfully pale.

You were confident you looked like some sort of ghoul, the way people gave you such sideways glances...

You shrugged your bag over your shoulders, looking into the storefronts curiously. You weren't looking for anything specific. You were aimlessly wandering at this point, really. You had two days off (only because your boss flat out told you you've hit overtime twice this month, and even he was concerned for your health) and figured, hey... may as well get some vitamin D while you're at it.

You shoved your hands in your pockets, your pinky poking through the hole on the inside of the pocket on the left side. God, you thought, I should make a trip to the thrift store today, get some decently-used jeans. Need some with less mileage on em.

The smell of incense burned your nostrils, crappy "spiritual" flute music croaking over a speaker well past its prime, wind chimes toning lazily in the breeze.

You lift your gaze and spot the shop, some kind of "witchy aesthetic" kinda thing. Pentacles, Celtic symbols, as well as some Norse-Pagan paraphernalia littered the front window. As well as the gauche lettering depicting palm readings and fortunes, and of course "magic".

Pah. Stupid.

You were about to walk by when two young women clad in black walked by, happily chirping to one another about offerings, smudgings, or... whatever it was. It wasn't your business.

As you watched them go, you turned to continue on your path, but a hand gripped your wrist.

The owner of the appendage was a woman. Her brown hair streaked with gray, her olive-green eyes seeming like they were focusing on something far away rather than at you.

"Uh..." You said, slightly uncomfortable.

"Oh! Forgive me, dear..." She laughed, taking your hand in hers and patting the back of your palm with her free hand; the thick leather bracer on her forearm was an odd fashion choice, you mused.

"Would you like to come in? I have something for everyone!" She winked.

"Er, well, I'm not really into... this whole thing." You chuckle nervously.

"Oh you don't have to be, sweetheart. No harm in looking, is there?"

"....Alright." You concede. She had a good point.

Your noticed as she let your hand go, your "funny feeling" was starting to tingle your fingertips.

And as you walked past the threshold of the front door? Your whole body felt like it was tingling.

Wall to wall, the small shop was filled with things that dazzled the senses, both visually and you were certain in other ways.

The woman hummed as she led you deeper into her shop, gesturing for you to walk into a dark room that was bordered with a beaded curtain in the door.

Yeah. That was how dumb people in horror movies got murdered. No, thank you.

"Look, I can just... uh." You try to find an excuse to turn down the woman who treated you with such polite words and demeanor.

But something about her had you so, so curious. Your "feeling" could not anticipate this woman, anything she said or did seemed a mystery to you.

"You seem tired, dear." She smiled sweetly, her hands clasped in front of her.

"I... well. I'm..."

"Overworked. I assume this is your first day off in days? Weeks, maybe?" She sighed, a sympathetic look on her face.

"How did you--"

"You are very pale, dear. Here, come. Come. Sit with me, hm?" She giggles, reaching out to bring you past the beaded curtain and into the dark room.

Her name, she told you, was Jezebel.

🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑

Goddamn you and your curiosity. The things this woman were telling you were compelling you. It was insane, the things she knew about you. She was right on the nose.

Even about the muggings.

That was when she brought up the subject of protection. When you brought up your self defense and "weapons", she chuckled and waved it off, simply saying that she didn't mean "that" kind of protection.

When you asked what she meant by that, she walked into another room connected to the dark room you were in, the table draped in a velvet cloth with tarot cards laid meticulously set.

She came back with something wrapped in a black silk cloth.

"Here, child. Try this." She hands you whatever it is, and encourages you to unwrap it.

Wrapped inside was a small, old-looking (Ancient, if you were honest) statuette of some sort. You could tell, even with your uneducated eye, that this was done in some kind of style reminiscent of the statues of ancient Egypt that you'd only glimpsed in documentaries. At first you thought it might be Horus, but the head was all wrong...

"Pray to Khonshu, and he will protect you during your travels in the night." She said sweetly.

"I..." You can't tear your gaze away from the statue.

"I can give you prayers, incense, an altar cloth, and basic offerings to get you started, sweetheart. Wait right here."

Before you can reject her offer, she vanishes elsewhere in the store...

And before you know it, she hands you a burlap bag, putting the statue, plus the other items in the bag for you.

"I... I can't pay for this, I..." You stammer.

"Trust me, my dear. This is on the house. You need this." She winks, patting the back of your hand again.

"Now, go. Set up the altar when you get home, get some rest, and say a prayer. Do this every time you leave during the night, and Khonshu and his Fists will protect you."

Somehow, you felt compelled yet again to accept her word, leaving her shop, your brain in a fog.

As you walked, you felt something.

Like a soft voice whispering on a desert wind.

🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑

Jezebel watched you leave, a satisfied and happy smirk playing on her lips.

Above, she heard the croaking of a crow.

She made a soft whistle and held out her arm, the one wearing the leather bracer.

And in a blur, a crow, white as snow and eyes as red as blood, landed on her arm, making very happy noises, almost singing at her, in his own way.

"Yes, I know, Zephyr." She smiled wider as she walked inside, Zephyr waddling up her arm to sit on her shoulder.

"I could sense it, too. Perhaps He will answer that girl..."

She then pulled the leather bracer off her arm, and looked at the mark on her inner wrist.

When she looked at the scales, Jezebel smiled.

🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑

Chapter 2: Link

#moon knight #Khonshu #khonshu x you #khonshu x reader #khonshu #khonshu moon knight #my writing #khonsu

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mandiemegatron · 1 year ago

Note

Please please please tell me your favorite Doffy headcannons I am dying to know!

Thank you for being here omg!

I LOVE U SO MUCH ANON, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS QUESTION 🤭🤭🤭💖💖💖

Header by ; @baka-tsuki // @baka-tsuki-2 ♡

『☼』 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜 『☼』

♡ even though you say "I love you" first, Doflamingo always goes above and beyond to show you how much he truly appreciates your love. Showering you in gifts is number one - necklaces, mostly. Gold, sterling silver - your choice, as long as you wear it for him the second he gifts it to you. Never gaudy or over the top, more simple but gorgeous, usually accompanied with tiny precious gemstones. Your favourite one is a simple, thin gold chain with a small gold circle, the Donquixote Crest stamped onto it. [He internally loses it everytime you wear it, especially if it's out and about or to a not so important meeting. Seeing you wear his crest with pride makes him feel absolutely feral]

♡ Doflamingo always, always, always makes time for you, no matter how much he has on his plate. Whether it be first thing in the morning or right before bed, he always makes sure to kiss you at least once a day. While for some that may not seem like much, but to you, it's more than enough. You know how busy and important he is and understand why he can't be with you every second of the day, which he shows appreciation by fucking you senseless the moment he can. This man will give up a night's rest to not only fuck you but make love to you, at least as best he can. You both know he's broken, unfamiliar with love as a whole but that doesn't deter you at all, showing him just how wonderful genuine love and affection is.

♡ He loves having you in his lap when he's doing paperwork. He's got a lot of it, so be sure to bring a book. Most times, Doflamingo demands you wear a dress or skirt with no panties, so he can run his fingers over your soaked cunt whenever he wishes. Nothing makes the man cackle more than making you fall apart in his lap while doing the most boring duties, bringing you over the edge at least twice before stuffing his cock into you, roughly pressing your front into his desk as he takes you from behind.

♡ Doflamingo loves when you wash his hair and body. The man has a worship kink, deeming himself a God worthy of adoration and you are more than happy and willing to service him however he chooses. It's such a soft, intimate moment when he brings you into the tub room with him, sinking into the almost pool sized bath and pulling you against him. You cling to him and he kisses you, over and over, everywhere on your face. This is the only time you see him without his glasses, your fingers following the same routine everytime of brushing over his face lovingly, thumb gently dancing under his blind eye which he closes. It's the only time he tells you he loves you, the words soft and near non-existent. It's like he worries It's all a dream and if he says it too loud, the dream will collapse. You don't mind, simply returning kisses over and over as you tell him the same.

♡ Doflamingo gets incredibly jealous wicked fast. A lowly servant speaking to you for too long? Off with their head. A patron in the bar trying to catch your attention? He'll scoop you up and devour your lips right in front of them before ending their existence. If you try to make him jealous on purpose, he'll punish you then and there, pushing your skirt up and pressing long fingers into you, not caring if you're in public or not. You're his and his alone, and everyone is going to know that somehow. Jealousy sex is painful, almost too much and overwhelming to the point you're sobbing, begging for him to either let you cum or to stop. He'll have you over-fucked to the point you can't speak as he fucks you from behind, eyes rolled back and drooling - its his second favourite position.

♡ His favourite position is you on top, titties bouncing and fingers digging into his sculpted chest and stomach, nails leaving angry red lines over his tanned skin. Doflamingo loves to dig his fingers into your hips, leaving bruises and aching bones behind. There's nothing that fuels his ego more than seeing you unable to walk after a long session, summoning threads to wrap around you and help you walk to the washroom. He's warm and only slightly sweaty every time, his hold incredibly tight around you when you return. He loves watching you curl into him, feeling like a cage trapping a song bird, one that was made just for him.

There are few things in this world that Doflamingo truly loves - and you are one of them.

#; in mandies mind / headcanons #ok to rb #one piece #one piece headcanons #doflamingo headcanons #Donquixote Doflamingo #🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭 I LOVED THIS !!!#this was so much fun UGH i love my mans so much !!!!

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nerdieforpedro · 1 month ago

Text

Common Ground

Part Five of A Safe Place for Us

Dieter Bravo x Aisha Smith (plus size OFC)

My entire masterlist and blog are for readers 18+ MDNI. I do not consent to my work being used in AI, recommended on TikTok, borrowed or plagiarized.

Summary: Aisha and Dieter have been busy. So busy that Aisha thinks about something Dieter hasn’t requested yet. That quickly falls by the wayside as they have a conversation about what their future could look like.

Warnings: cum play, being sore, unprotected p in v, dirty talk, coherent communication (in romance? Say it ain’t so!), bad jokes (it isn’t a true Nerdie fic without a few odd references), music choices, food mention, papers

Word Count: a little under 1.8k

Notes: Is there a schedule for this series? No. Am I working on it? Yes I wrote two sentences of chapter six. 😅 If one squints, there might be a reference or two to a certain musician, which I giggled thought about taking the jokes out and then said, nah staying in. I enjoy these two idiots in love. They’re cute. 🥰 And this is a series I write for comfort and to laugh. You know, I’m between the angst and dark stuff. 👀 (My bad to Jack and Pero).

Main Masterlist/ Dieter Bravo Masterlist/ AO3 Link

Waking up to Dieter takes getting used to for Aisha. It’s not unwelcome, she’s just not used to someone clinging to her like he does. Every morning he stays at her apartment is one where he has his arm and head somewhere on her. Chest, stomach, thigh, back, ass one time because he enjoys scissoring her entrance wider and scooping his spend that drips out of her back in before pumping his fingers to stir his cum within her.

She feels she needs to tell him to maybe stay at his place for a bit. Not because of the sex, if anything, she’d want him to stay longer for that. But Aisha is sore. Her pussy is sore, her legs are sore, breasts are sore, back and the only reason her mouth isn’t is that Dieter descends on her whenever he stops by. There’s no time for her to fumble with his pants when he’s already dropped them and is working to get her wet enough to enter.

Aisha notices though, over the almost two months they’ve been at this, Bravo’s been more prone to want her to climax before he does. It’s not that she’s never seen Dieter work hard. He’s dedicated to his acting craft and his art but not like this. Not in the same level of effort she sees his leaking head smearing drops on her thighs and the look on his face tells her he’s held off just for this. Just to be inside of her and to fill her. It’s when Dieter has her put her knee on the stool that’s in front of her small kitchen island that doubles as a counter that she mentions it before he enters her for the third time today. “Dee, don’t you want me to suck your cock? Sometimes…” She wants him inside, her walls are clenching in anticipation, but she and her cunt are tired. He pauses and kisses her shoulder, Dieter likes her in simple dresses for easy access.

“You want to Ai?“ He uses his teeth to nibble at her skin, Aisha groans, feeling herself lusting to having him inside. It’s becoming a need, and if she was honest with herself, it’s been one after the first week. “Haven’t gotten you pregnant yet.” Dieter knows that Aisha may not be handling such an increase in frequency of their joined bodies well. His libido is strong and is worse now that his best friend who he’s imagined in this very kitchen and on this island so many nights, morning and in his various trailers finally gave him access to her body. Bravo wants her to crave him like he does her, and wants his Aisha ravenous for him.

“Just let me do it once-“ Her yelp cuts out midway as he enters her slowly, testing her always to make sure she’s not pushing him away. She doesn’t. Laying her forearms on the counter, Aisha uses the leverage to push back, needing more friction than Dieter’s slow pace. He always enjoys teasing her, at least that's what she thinks. Lips at the back of her neck are wet from the small beads of sweat as he quickens to match her pace. Soon just slaps of skin and grunts are heard from Dieter as Aisha calls his name in forced whispers between breaths. It’s now that he has a hold on her hips and thrusts become rougher. The Oscar winner sees Aisha lay her forehead on the cool marble as she stretches her arms out, “Dammit, god you feel amazing Dee.”

“Make up your mind Scribbles.” Dieter leans over and coos in her ear before licking it. “Your pussy’s already swallowing my cock.” He slows his pace to last a bit longer, feeling her squeeze around his shaft is a haven he wants to remain in a bit longer. Bravo isn’t able to keep it slow and speeds back up, pumping Aisha full and rolling his hips while he reaches down to circle his thumb around her sensitive bud. “Give me one more Ai. One more.” With a string a ‘fucks’ her core grips Dieter’s dick as she comes again, when he doesn’t feel her body spasming, they both slump to the floor next to the kitchen island base. Aisha’s sitting in Dieter’s lap as his now limp cock slips out of her. The sudden cold has her groan. “You’ve always got one more in you Scribbles.” Bravo laughs and so does Aisha.

“More like I’ve always got you in me Dieter.” Her comment had Dieter run his hands down her thighs, rubbing them slowly.

“That’s our goal isn’t it? Keep you full so soon you’ll have a bun in the oven. Right?” He reaches up and pats her belly, Aisha places her hands over his.

“It is. It’s just we haven’t talked about what this is going to look like Dee. Not really.”

“You want to talk about it now? Or in a few after we wash up?” Dieter stands first and assists Aisha to her feet as they make their way to her bedroom.

“Yeah we should.” After cleaning up, they sit at the edge of the bed. “So say I’m pregnant this week, what do you expect to happen Dieter?” Scratching the back of his head, Bravo knows it’s serious when she calls him his full first name.

“Assuming I’m not on location or at some press thing, I’d want to celebrate with you. Have some cake and ice cream or something.” Aisha touches his face and traces the heart that grows in his patchy beard, she starts to say something but Dieter pats her knee. “But before that, no matter if you’re pregnant or not, I want you to move in with me. I don’t want you here by yourself and I’m going to hire an assistant for you.”

“Dieter Bravo you-“

“Hear me out Aisha.” His face is stern, a look she remembers from when she first brought up going by herself to the clinic. “You’ll still be in charge of what’s going on, I just want to be sure someone’s with you and I’m tired of going back and forth between our places.”

“Dieter what’s going to happen to my apartment? I’ve lived here for years. There’s so much stuff to move.”

“I know, but I told you I was going to do this with you. So I’m going to your next appointments and we’re going to come up with a birth plan with candles, a baby pool, some Enya and-“

“I plan to have the baby in the hospital Dee. And why Enya of all the music you could possibly think of? Not even like a lofi beats or classical? Just right to Enya?” Aisha’s hand grips Dieter’s shoulder as she laughs, shaking her head at the thought.

“But you’ll live with me right? To co-parent the hell out of this kid? You know once they get old enough they’ll try and pit us against each other.” Dieter plops back on the bed, “Mama! Daddy said I could have the Kit Kats! I swear!” Aisha lays down next to him and pokes his forehead.

“I know that’s a lie. You don’t share those, ever. The kid would be in so much hot water.” Curling up on Bravo’s chest, it’s a pleasant dream that could be a reality any day now. It’s frightening but he’s willing to be by her side. “So this is most days huh? In addition to the baby making, I mean.”

“Just so you know Ai, I’ve been down to fuck you since we shared leftovers from ‘Graceland.’ The more I got to know you, the worse it got. You were always so sweet, despite those delightfully smutty books you call novels and now the latest one with some woods fairy hung dude.” Aisha pinches his tummy as he continues, “I know what sad girl music you listen to. You want me to start howling when I get home?”

“I knew you listened to his music!“ She pecks his lips, “that’s from his first album too. I’m glad you don’t howl. I don’t want to imagine it. I don’t think it would sound the same coming from you Dee.”

“Of course not.” Dieter lays back and gives Aisha a cheeky grin. “It sounds a hellova lot better to you doesn’t it Scribbles?”

“You’re impossible. And we’ve gotten way off track.” Putting her head on his chest, she listens to his heart beat, it’s steady. Dee’s relaxed. “I have an appointment with my doctor next week. My primary, the OBGYN is in two weeks.”

“You know what we should do, merge calendars so we can keep track of everything.” Dieter’s hand runs his hand along her back.

“Sounds good Dee.” Aisha agrees and they doze off.

The next morning, Dieter does manage to make eggs and toast, they eat breakfast together and Aisha is dropped off at a meeting with her editor and publisher after riding with Bravo on his way back to the set. It turns out that there have been some script changes so he has half a day instead of a full one. He thinks about popping by Aisha’s place but decides to not to.

Dieter Bravo normally doesn’t plan much, but it seems it would be best to set up a meeting or two. He needs to start planning for the future.

The supernatural romance book Dieter had playfully mocked, was well received by her publisher and editor so Aisha calls Bravo to ask when he’s going to be home, she wants to celebrate. She declined the lunch that was served and hoped he’d be up for dinner, the scent of the garlic from the bread bothered her nose. Ai figured maybe the scent was just too strong and didn’t think much of it. Dieter answered and told her to be ready to be picked up and eat some Korean BBQ. Just the thought of the food was enough to grin with excitement.

That night, they went to a small hole in the wall Korean BBQ place that Dieter had found. They laughed and ate so much beef that both of them waddled to the car full of food.

Sleep that night came easy and was a bit gassy. With the sunrise and morning coffee, Dieter presented Aisha with a thick Manila folder. She sat across the kitchen island and opened it curious at what he’s cooked up.

Turns out the Oscar winner is more clever than people give him credit for.

Chapter Four. Chapter Six

Peeps who appreciate Dieter’s “dedication” to his duties 🥵: @megamindsecretlair @soft-persephone @soft-girl-musings @rosecentaur1916 @westside-rot

@mysterious-moonstruck-musings @schnarfer @yorksgirl @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @guelyury

@readingiskeepingmegoing @gwendibleywrites @pascalsanctuary @survivingandenduring

@harriedandharassed @baronessvonglitter

#pedro pascal characters #fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #dieter bravo #dieter bravo fanfic #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo x ofc #a safe place for us #nerdieforpedro #a Nerdie series

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maybankiara · 11 months ago

Text

WHERE WE'D END UP AT THE END

pairing: JJ Maybank x Kiara Carrera summary: Kiara unexpectedly returns from her trip around the world with a confession for JJ. w/c: 7k a/n: au in which everything happened apart from the jiara kiss, and before the time jump, all the pogues went their separate ways. everything else is canon. pining, fluff, angst, confessions, this has got it all. masterlist | tag list read on archive of our own

He doesn’t know she’s back until he hears her voice coming from behind him. Even then, as he turns around, it’s hard to wrap his head around the fact that the person in front of him is more than a mere memory brought up by the June heat.

Her name falls from his lips and, just like that, the Earth starts spinning again.

For three years, JJ was the only Pogue on the island. Pope left for university and found himself a job there, staying over summer and only returning for a few days in winter to celebrate Christmas with his family. John B and Sarah decided to move to the Bahamas, permanently, away from the mess that the Outer Banks offered. Kiara decided that she wanted to see the world and then she decided to stay in it.

Kildare wasn’t for any of them, but JJ was the only one without the option of leaving it. He settled down, instead, found work at a mechanic’s workshop and a part-time job as a bartender down at Figure Eight. Friends were scarce and fun was scarcer, yet JJ thought it to be the best turn of events – if he focused on getting money, someday he’d be able to escape, too.

That was the plan, anyway. And now he’s at the Kook bar, reorganising the shelves because the shift is at its slowest point, and he hears the trembling voice he truthfully gave up on thinking he’d hear again.

For all his charming mannerisms, they all seem to fall flat now. He’s just staring but his brain is unable to take in the image; a malfunction. A proper system shutdown.

‘I, uh… I’ll have a bit of that.’ She points at the bottle in JJ’s hands. He moves his finger a little, revealing the letters spelling out Jack Daniels: Fire. ‘Make it double.’

All JJ manages is a meek nod and a: ‘Coming right up.’

He turns his back to her and takes out a whiskey glass. His fingers are slippery enough it almost falls from his grip, but he holds onto it. He glances back and she’s got her eyes on him, her lips parted in a heavy sigh.

‘One for you, too,’ she says. There’s a ring on her finger she keeps fiddling with; it’s a new one. JJ tries not to stare at it. ‘If you’re allowed.’

Without a word, JJ fetches another glass from the cupboard. He takes a small shot glass and lets the golden liquid trickle into it. It would be easier to have just taken the double-sized shot glass, but… he didn’t do it. He’s not stalling, it’s just more precise this way.

JJ glances at her. ‘On the rocks or straight?’

‘On the rocks. It’s a hot day.’

He turns around and opens the cupboard behind the bar, scooping up two ice cubes. Both of them go into a single glass that he hands over to her. The whiskey has a bitter smell and it just about burns his throat when he takes a sip of it.

‘So,’ he says, ‘you’re back.’

Kiara Carrera’s lips relax into a smile that makes her eyes wrinkle a little. She lets out a chuckle, too, and JJ lets notes that her eyes look a little brighter now. Their colour is the same as it was when they first met as kids, but their owner is livelier. She looks a little taller, her face a little more defined, and it’s hard to believe it’s been merely three years since he’s last seen her.

There’s still a band sitting on top of her hair, the tank top she’s wearing is in the same earthly tones he’s always known her in, and at the same time it feels as if no time has passed.

She takes a big sip, shuts her eyes and shudders before letting out a big sigh, and chuckles.

JJ feels the grin forming on his face. ‘You still can’t take whiskey?’

‘Nope. The true bane of my existence.’

‘Why order it, then?’

‘You know me,’ she says, offering a shrug. ‘I needed something strong. For the jitters.’

‘The jitters.’

‘Oh c’mon, JJ.’ Kie leans over the bar a little, just enough to give him a playful shove, smiling bright and wide. ‘I haven’t seen you in three years. It’s scary.’

JJ quirks an eyebrow at her. The whiskey tastes a little more like cinnamon this time around and he rests his elbows on the bartop. ‘Do you find me scary, Ms Carrera?’

She leans closer. ‘In your dreams.’

They’re close enough that he can see her eyes aren’t fully a dark brown, but have lighter specks around the iris, looking almost like scattered golden dots. He’s seen this a million times before, but not in the last three years. It’s enough to draw a shaky chuckle out of him as he retreats, leaning his back against the wall underneath the shelves.

‘I’m glad to see you again, Kie,’ he admits. He can’t think of a world in which he isn’t, but he wants her to hear it, still. ‘The world looks good on you.’

She flashes a smile, downing the last of her glass with a reaction equal to the first one. ‘You look good, too, JJ. I never would’ve thought that I’d find you here, of all places.’

‘In a Kook bar?’ His voice is quieter, as there’s people chatting away in some parts of the bar. If it were any quieter, he wouldn’t have risked saying it. ‘I have to assimilate so I can steal the money from the rich.’

‘I see you haven’t changed.’ It’s a light taunt, one that comes with a dose of admiration, and JJ happily takes it as a compliment.

‘They’ve got more than enough money. Put on a smile,’—he stretches his face into the kindest fake smile he can muster—‘listen to some of their troubles, and they’re at your feet.’

‘I’m glad that you’ve still got your charm.’

‘I’ve mastered it.’

Kie rewards him with a genuine laugh, one that he hasn’t heard in too long, and he feels excitement bubbling in his chest. She hasn’t laughed quite so freely in… ever, probably. He doesn’t think the last time he’s seen her with her shoulders fully relaxed, a constant genuine smile on her face, and the ease with which she carries herself now.

He meant it when he said that travelling the world suits her.

‘Anyway,’ she says. ‘I assume your customers are going to require your attention soon, and mine is required by my parents, who must be eager to see me back home.’

‘You haven’t been home yet?’

‘No.’ Her voice goes low again and her tongue runs over her bottom lip, her eyes wandering before settling back on JJ. ‘I needed a… whiskey.’

For a moment, he thought she must’ve been as surprised as he was to find him here. If all she wanted was a whiskey and got a friend she hadn’t seen in years… But then he saw the nervousness in the gentle twitch of her lips, and the expectance of someone being in on an inside joke, and he clocked it.

His chest heaves with a sigh, and he lets out the tension that managed to build up in the half a second his brain went into overdrive. ‘Just a whiskey.’

‘Just a whiskey.’

We don’t talk about how we feel, he remembers one of Pogues saying once, when they were younger. We do things for each other and we say things that mean other things, but we’re never direct.

It must’ve been Pope, because JJ remembers himself saying, It’s tough love, bub.

What feels like a century later, they’re still behaving the very same way. It’s the Pogue thing. Except they’re adults now, all of them barely in contact with each other anymore, and maybe that behaviour is better left in the past.

JJ reaches forward and covers Kie’s hand with his own, squeezing it lightly. ‘You’ve got this. If it doesn’t go well, give me a call.’

‘Thanks.’ Her thumb brushes the inside of his and she gives him a smile that makes him think that maybe nothing has changed, after all. ‘I’m definitely going to need a couple of drinks after that.’

‘My place is still back on the Cut, but I’ve got plenty of drinks for a night of catching up.’

‘Like the good old days,’ she says, and he echoes the words with a knowing smile on his face.

He doesn’t care about the customers when Kie leaves. He doesn’t care about the old guy who always comes in and gives him shit for not giving him enough to drink, and always tries to get some for free – he doesn’t care about any of it. His phone is in his pocket and he only cares about when it’s going to buzz, when the second-hand watch on his wrist will show it’s 8 pm, when he’ll be able to get home and make it a little neater before she comes back.

It’s one of his best and worst shifts. His mind keeps taking him back to her hand being in his, to their eyes locking, and he feels like he’s still sixteen, still hiding his feelings, still wishing the best for her and knowing he’s not it.

Maybe things will be simpler now. They’re not kids anymore, and maybe that’s the one thing that will make it all more bearable.

★

She appears out of nowhere, unannounced, knocking on his door like she’s trying to break it down. JJ guesses it’s just her thing now.

He opens the door and she scoots past him with a muttered thanks before her mouth starts working a mile a minute and her voice fills out the entirety of JJ’s modest apartment, and he’s a little overwhelmed.

‘Kie.’

She turns on her feet, chest heaving as she catches her breath. ‘Yeah?’

‘Calm down for a second.’ He closes the door and locks it, walks over to the living room (that is also the kitchen and the dining room and the guest bedroom) and plops down on the couch, waiting until she does the same. ‘What happened? And slow down this time so I can actually pay attention.’

Kie nods, opens her mouth, then closes it. She throws a glance in the direction of the kitchen. ‘You want a beer?’

‘You’re asking me if I want a beer in my own house?’

‘Mhm.’ The next moment, she’s on her feet, and her head is in the fridge. She comes back to the couch with two beers, throwing one in his direction. ‘Needed one, figured you’d need one, too.’

A sigh falls from JJ’s lips before he gets to stop it. ‘That bad?’

‘That bad.’

He leans into the couch as the two open their beers and he doesn’t take his eyes off of his friend; she hasn’t started talking yet, which probably means she’s trying to think of what to say, and he likes to have a moment to prepare himself.

When she came over for the first time, about three days ago, the two managed to mend most of what was broken by time and distance. It was a long night of catching up and he got to learn quite a bit about her adventures in Thailand and Bali, primarily, and she got to learn about what it feels like to work two jobs, one on the Cut and one in Figure Eight. Their experiences were vastly different, but they boiled to the same outcome – growing up. Understanding the world a little better.

They’ve seen each other at least once every day since, and soon enough, it was like she never left. They went to the beach yesterday, did some surfing, then crashed a party at the Boneyard for a little bit before they ended up back at his place, both falling asleep on the stretched-out couch.

It was like it had been before she left, but JJ knew it wouldn’t last. They aren’t teenagers anymore.

This is why he waits for her to figure her things out, and then she spills the beans: her parents want her to stay on the island. With them.

‘It’s not like they don’t care about what I want,’ she says, not quite looking at JJ, but rather past him. He wonders if she’s looking at the derelict building right across the street, because that’s the only thing visible from the window. ‘They just don’t get it.’

‘Do you want to keep travelling?’

Outside, a hawk chittered not far from the apartment.

When Kie brings her eyes up to meet JJ’s, he sees the discomfort in them; the insecurity. ‘No,’ she says, quietly, ‘but I don’t know what I want. Just…’

‘Just not the island.’

There’s a moment of silence. ‘Yeah.’

JJ shuffles across the couch until his arm is over Kie’s shoulder and he pulls her into a half-hug. Her hair still smells like coconut, but also like something else, now. The same and different. ‘I get it, Kie. I really do. I would do the same if I could.’

‘You’re not mad?’ she asks, nestling her head in the crook of his neck; JJ tries not to shiver at the contact. ‘You will be alone again.’

‘I didn’t expect you to stay, Kie,’ he admits. ‘I thought you’d be around for a few days and then leave, because I know how much you hate this place. I’d never let you stay. I just— I couldn’t. It’s not right.’

‘I just hate it, you know. The idea of you here, all alone.’

‘I’m not all alone, though. I’ve got a life here. I belong here more than any of you do.’

His hand gives her shoulder a gentle rub, and then he’s got the tips of her hair wrapped around his fingers, twirling them around. He’s not alone, he tells himself – there have been plenty of girls sharing the bed with him for the night. He talks to people at work, some people greet him on the street and he’s known them for the entirety of his life.

He doesn’t like it here, but it’s where he’s meant to be.

There always has to be a Maybank on the Cut.

‘I’m sorry,’ Kie says.

JJ doesn’t look at her, because he hears the way her voice got caught up in her throat, and he doesn’t want to risk seeing her crying. It’ll break him. ‘You don’t have anything to be sorry for,’ he tells her instead, because he has an inkling of what this could be about.

‘I do. We all— we all left and didn’t look back.’

‘Pope comes home,’ argues JJ. ‘I see him sometimes.’

‘Three times in three years.’

He doesn’t say anything to that, because he doesn’t have anything to say that would make her feel better, and the last thing he wants is to make the situation worse.

‘It’s fine, Kie,’ he tells her. A group of people walks underneath the window and JJ feels the need to slam it shut, but then the heat would burn them alive. Even sitting so close to her is a sacrifice he’s making, because his body heat keeps going up, and he feels his fingers becoming sticky.

It shouldn’t matter. They’ve always been gross around one another. It’s the Pogue way.

‘Look, I’m my own person, okay? I love the Pogues, I love our little group, but we don’t live for each other. You’ve got your life, I’ve got mine. That’s what happens when you grow up.’

‘You grow apart,’ she says, and the words send a lump into his throat.

In that moment, JJ finds himself wishing he had more than Kie to hold on to. His head drops backwards, first, and he takes a deep breath as his eyes blink away the tears. He can be level-headed in tough situations. He had to learn that in the past couple of years.

He feels Kie stiffen on his chest, her fingers tugging at one another in his lap. Usually, he’s the fidgety one. Usually, he’s the one fumbling with words. Usually, he’s the having to pull himself together.

When he lets his eyes close and rests his chin atop of Kie’s head, it’s an instinct rather than a decision. His hand drops from her hair until he’s pulling her into himself, feeling her body wrapped up within him.

If he could shield her from the world, he could. He can only shield her from himself.

He damns the heat welling up in his throat and holds her close, still.

‘You’re always going to have a home with me,’ he tells her. His thumbs rub her skin and he feels her press into him, her body quivering ever so slightly. ‘No matter how long we don’t see each other for, or if we don’t talk in years. If we have a falling out or some other shit happens. None of that matters. If you need me, I’ll come. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always be right where you can find me.’

Kie doesn’t sob, but her body shakes and he bites his own lip. The lump in his throat let him say those words, but it’s choking him now.

He meant every word he said, though. That’s the only thing that matters.

(JJ isn’t quite the one for finding the words for how he feels. John B is the only Pogue who could manage that with ease, with his grandiose acts of love for Sarah and whatnot. But this is Kie – she’s been one of his best friends for years and she knows his way with words and avoiding the truth. There’s no hiding from that.

Not like he meant to hide, anyway. He doesn’t need to tell her his heart has belonged to her for a long time now, but he can tell her she’s got a home in it.)

Kie stirs against his chest; he sees the green shirt has turned several shades darker in tiny circles, where her head had been.

‘I don’t know what to say.’

She pulls away from him, staring ahead, where the TV is propped up on a stool made from pieces of an old wooden chair that had broke when JJ first moved in. She seems transfixed on it – is this how she sees JJ, maybe? Something that was meant for a purpose it was no longer fit for, then repurposed to keep living, to keep surviving in a world that’s against him?

Maybe that’s how she saw herself, too. JJ certainly does. She’s sturdier than most people he’s met and it’s one of the things he admires about her the most.

JJ runs a hand along her back, rubbing gentle circles. He doesn’t think about anything other than she deserves someone to care for her. When she looks at him, there’s a smile in the corners of her lips, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

‘JJ?’

‘Yeah?’

Kie gives him a long gaze, shaking her head to herself before she parts her lips again. ‘You know how when we were younger, I said that I’d always live every day like it was last?’

He nods. It was shortly after the fiasco with the El Dorado – he couldn’t just forget that. ‘You said no regrets.’

‘And when I left, I thought I had none.’ She leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. Her fingers are still pulling at the ring – she’d got it at a monastery in Nepal, allegedly a family heirloom from one of the monks she met there. She doesn’t look at him when she speaks. ‘It was great, at first. The freedom was like fresh air. It was all I ever wanted.’

I know, he wants to say, you’ve told me this already. But he keeps quiet, still, because her tone wasn’t light.

‘I got bad, though. Sometimes I would just stay up, realising how far from home I was. I just felt like if something happened to me, it would take ages to get back to my family, to you. It wasn’t homesickness, it was kind of… I was aware of my mortality in a really weird way. I thought I was okay with that before I left, I thought I’d made peace with everything.’

He catches her glance at him out of the corner of her eye and he tries offering her a smile, but it doesn’t really work.

She tells him, then – she tells him all of it. The loneliness, the feeling of being completely lost and misguided, to the feeling of being fooled into believing that travelling the world could let her make sense of things that confused her at home. Some of it got cleared, but most of it got more clouded, instead. There were good days, but the bad days nearly outshined the good when she’d start thinking about things.

Kie tells the story in a hushed voice, almost as if she’s scared that the passersby could hear her words through the window, when JJ could barely hear them himself. His hand never lets go of her back, but he stops moving it and just holds it there. More than anything, he wants to wrap his arms around her, but he can tell she needs the space.

He knows this is headed somewhere, yet the more she talks about it, the less he understands.

Until, that is, she finally looks at him and says, ‘When things were the hardest, you were the one who got me out of it.’

How? he means to ask, but it isn’t his turn. Kie’s eyes are pointed and she’s not finished yet. ‘Before I left, you told me you believed in me, and the whole world’s waiting for me to explore it, and it was the only thing that I could think of and fall asleep after it. I kept wishing you’d come with me, instead, and I couldn’t stop wondering why I hadn’t asked you to come.’

‘Even if you had, it wouldn’t have been an option,’ he reminds her. ‘I was broke, had to stay here. I’m not the guy who goes backpacking around the world.’

‘What if you are?’ she asks and for the first time, JJ thinks he can really hear the lump in her throat, the stiffness of her voice. ‘What if we could’ve… I was an idiot when I left, JJ.’

JJ aches to lean over and reach her, yet he keeps himself glued to the couch. What do you say to this? How do you act? His heart keeps beating in expectation and not even the chatter outside the window can do anything to help.

‘I was confused,’ she says. ‘I was a kid. I was dumb. I was running away from everything this place had to offer, and I didn’t realise that included you.’

‘You didn’t run away from me, Kie.’

‘What if I did?’ She looks at him and he sees determination in her eyes, in the tightness of her lips, in the way her neck tenses. ‘I kept feeling and thinking things I couldn’t explain and definitely shouldn’t have been feeling. Travelling the world sounded better than trying to confront all of it. Except that backfired, because I had to stop travelling because I couldn’t keep ignoring it.’

Here’s the thing with the Pogues – they don’t say what they mean.

JJ feels the weight of her words, but can’t quite piece them together to solve the puzzle. He stares at her in expectation, instead, waiting for something that doesn’t come. Her eyes are trained to his and her lips slightly parted, as if she’s waiting on him, too.

JJ gets up and grabs himself a beer from the fridge, throwing her one, too. He walks a few steps to the left until he’s in the kitchen area of the room, and grabs a bag of heavy salted crisps from the cupboard. He hands it to her and she takes it without a word, no longer looking at him, but still expecting. Waiting.

They’re waiting on each other. Oddly, JJ feels like they’ve been doing the dance far longer than he thinks.

‘I don’t know what you want me to say, Kie.’

She pulls her lips into her mouth, before saying: ‘Anything.’

And JJ feels a new weight on his shoulders.

Kiara Carrera has always fit in his life. She has never been the central point herself, but the Pogues were his life for the majority of it, and she was one of them. A life without them, and without her, wasn’t much of an exciting life.

He remembers when she first came and he kept calling her the Kook princess, until Sarah Cameron turned out to be everything they joked Kie was. He always thought it was odd how easily she fit with the three boys, with the Cut – if someone looked at her, with her little headband, cropped tops and tie-dyed everything, they’d never guess she grew up on Figure Eight.

She fit in his apartment, too. Somehow. Another crop top, another pair of jean shorts, another headband keeping her hair out of her face. She’s changed but she hasn’t. And this is a place that is falling apart, costing just enough so he can call it a decent apartment and still get to save for something better, eventually.

Not that there is anything remotely better on the Cut. JJ likes to dream, too.

And she’s in a lot of those dreams.

‘Kie, I just— I don’t know what you want me to say. Or do,’ he says. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘What do you want to do?’

So much, is the answer, but so is nothing.

He’s seen the look on her face before, more than once, in memories that kept him up at night. The replay of the curve of her Cupid’s Bow, of the way her lips are slightly pursed, in the tremor he can see from her baby hairs shaking.

Kiara, looking at him like there’s nothing else worthy of looking at.

JJ puts his beer on the counter and walks up to her, cups her face, and kisses her.

★

As a man stumbles his way out of the bar with one of JJ’s coworkers holding a firm hand on his back, JJ finds himself wondering why in the hell he’s decided to work in the one place that alcoholics frequent, and isn’t a casino. He’s thought about this before and the conclusion is always the same – it’s about seeing that people can get drunk, abuse alcohol, and still be semi-decent people.

Even from his grave, Luke Maybank’s hold on his son never wavers.

It’s what he thinks about when things are shit. When he’s shit. And without hearing from Kiara for nearly two whole days now, JJ’s legs shake with every step he takes.

He thinks that seeing her would fix everything, but when she finally walks into the bar, his knees threaten to give in.

She calls his name and he glances around, but his boss is elsewhere, so he tells her to sit down.

‘Whiskey again?’

Kiara shakes her head.

‘A beer, then? I’ve got your favourite.’

‘I’m here for you, JJ.’

He pours her some of her favourite beer, anyway. On the house. ‘My shift finishes in an hour. You can wait, or I can pick you up—’

‘I’ll wait.’ She takes the beer and puts a few bills on the counter. ‘I’ll be in the back.’

Her steps are steady and precise, and she sits down in the far back booth as if that was her intention all along. JJ knows her well enough to know she’s terrified, because Kiara is never this precise unless she fears that one wrong movement will crumble her.

He makes a note of not holding anything against her, whatever it is she’s here to talk about. He takes the bills she left, too, and slips them in his pocket, to return them to her later.

‘On the rocks,’ says a man to his right—a regular—and JJ’s back to being the bartender.

Every so often, he feels Kiara’s eyes on his back. Even as he speaks to the customers, he thinks of last night, of the way her limbs felt tangled with his. He looks a man in the eye as he charges him and all sees is her eyes rolling in pleasure, her mouth full of little sighs, little gasps.

His hands drop to the wooden bartop and he feels his palm flat against his wall, stabilising him as he thrusts. Kiara’s moans and wandering hands. Kiara’s mouth where he needed her most, his own making her feel good in return.

‘You’re two dollars short,’ says the customer.

‘Sorry.’ JJ reaches into the till and takes out two dollars. ‘It’s been a long day.’

‘Sure seems like it. Look after yourself, kid.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Yet all he can think about is how it’s the best night he’s had in years, if not ever.

Kiara still sits in the back booth, killing time with her phone and occasional glances at JJ. There’s nothing on her face to show she’s going through the same, but JJ bets she is – he knows her well enough.

Even though she rushed out in the morning with her hair still a mess from his hands running through it, he knows it was just as earth-shattering for her as it was for him.

JJ bids his farewell to his coworkers. They’re good kids – even though JJ’s only a year or two older, he feels like there’s a decade between them. They’re Kook kids, somehow unaware of his past, and JJ envies their innocence.

Kiara’s still on her phone when he approaches her. ‘Fancy getting out of here?’

She slips her phone into her pocket and is leading him out of the joint before he wraps his head around it. ‘I want to go somewhere.’

‘Somewhere as in a specific place?’

‘Yeah. You got your bike?’

JJ taps her shoulder, pointing at the employee car park. In the middle of it is his trusted dirt bike, one that’s gotten him out of shit more times than he’d like to admit.

She lets out a breathy laugh. ‘I missed that thing.’

‘It missed you, too.’

They hop on like they’ve done a million times before. Kiara wraps her arms around his waist with no hesitation and he feels her cheek pressed against his shoulderblade – if he wore a tank top, they’d be skin against skin.

Again.

JJ revs the engine. ‘Where to, Ma’am?’

‘The Chateau.’

All JJ tries to focus on is her arms around him, but he shudders anyway.

Nobody’s been to the Chateau since the fire all those years ago. JJ’s hardly even thought about it. With no one to look after the place, the wooden boards would’ve turned to ruin by now. All the Pogue memories they made would be turned to dust – does he even remember them, anymore?

Kiara squeezes him a little harder – just enough to hold him together to the Chateau.

As he thought, the place is a ruin.

‘It’s kind of beautiful,’ Kiara says.

He looks at her as if she’s crazy—she must be—but then he sees the admiration, the longing, the nostalgia in her eyes, and tries to see it the way she does. Vines climb what’s left of the house and there’s moss where windows would’ve been. The ash has been washed away by rain and he can see traces of the original colour on the surviving base.

Kiara takes a few steps forward until she’s standing on the ruin, balancing herself with a smile. ‘This is where the front porch was.’

JJ just stares. She doesn’t stop, though – she walks to the left and says that’s where the swing used to be, and that was where the couch was, and suddenly JJ starts seeing all those things, as if someone were building the house from the ashes.

He joins in on the game. ‘That’s where I used to sleep. That’s where Pope got hit in the head by a can that one time.’

The Chateau came to life and the memories rushed back as if they were never gone. Within minutes, the two were laughing as if no time had passed. As if things hadn’t turned to ruin and as if they hadn’t grown older. Grown apart.

It comes to an end, though. JJ offers her a hand to come down but she does it herself.

‘Oh,’ she says.

‘What?’

‘I forgot about this.’

He walks up next to her and sees it: the tree with John B’s name carved into it. A memory from a bad time – when they thought they’d lost him. When it was just JJ, Kiara and Pope. Left to fend for themselves, not knowing whether their friend was alive or dead.

JJ swallows the lump in his throat. His arm finds Kiara’s shoulder and he pulls her closer, and she wraps both arms around his waist.

‘I’m glad that wasn’t the end,’ he says. ‘But it was hell. Thinking he was lost.’

‘We nearly lost him,’ Kiara says in the softest voice.

‘But we didn’t. That’s all that matters.’

He doesn’t want to say that in a way, they still lost him – to Sarah and the Bahamas, like they lost Pope to college.

JJ laughs a dry laugh. ‘Never thought we’d be the last two Pogues.’

‘With a burnt-down Chateau behind our backs.’

‘Exactly. Funny how life turns out.’

Her hands drop back to her pockets; the absence of her body against his feels like an unwanted breeze.

She looks at him like she’s about to say something. JJ decides against interrupting, and instead looks towards the pier – there’s no light on it and it’s already getting dark, but he wants to go there. Get away from the Chateau and its scorched past.

So his clammy hand takes hold of Kiara’s and they walk down the pier, listening as the wooden boards creak. Some things remain the same. Kiara squeezes his hand.

She doesn’t let go of it when they reach the end, with nothing but marsh in front of them. Sun sets on the other side of the property and they’re watching the sky bask in shades of deep blue, and JJ sits down with Kiara following suit.

Her fingers tap the wood. ‘I don’t want to live with regrets.’

‘Okay?’

‘Is it? What we did last night?’ she asks, facing him straight-on. ‘A regret?’

‘No.’ JJ doesn’t even hesitate. ‘It was the one thing that could never regret.’

She smiles, ever so slightly, and he feels the tension in his shoulders ease. Carefully, he covers her hand with his own, and she lets him take it into his lap.

‘Kie.’

‘Yeah?’

JJ takes a deep breath.

He’s thought about this moment for a long time – over a decade, really. Almost two. He’s thought about what he’d say, given the chance, and there was a grandiose speech somewhere in the back of his mind… but this is different.

He never accounted for sleeping with Kie before confessing his feelings.

‘You know when I said I’d be there when you came back? When you were leaving?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I meant every word,’ he says. He gives her hand a squeeze and musters up a tiny smile, but he still can’t look her in the eye. ‘I made the promise to wait for you. Hell, I would’ve waited for you till the world ended if I had to. And I still will. I always will.’

His eyes finally meet hers and – she’s crying. Moonlight reflects off the tears and he’d call her beautiful if he wasn’t in the middle of this.

Of them.

‘My home is with you, Kie. I can stay on the island for as long as I want, but if you’re not here, it’s not…’ He brings his hand to her cheek, wiping her tears with his thumb. ‘No matter how many times you leave, I’ll be there. Ready to take you back.

He watches the shine in her eyes drop to his lips and then he’s got her own pressed against them, her hands holding his face. It’s gentle, unlike the passionate kiss they had the other night, and he feels her breath on his lips. She moves back, but her hands cradle his face, still.

‘How did it take us this long to get here?’

JJ laughs. ‘I was just another guy, Kie. You had half the island trying to get with you.’

‘That’s not true!’

‘It is,’ JJ says. ‘I just didn’t want you to know because I didn’t want you to have the burden of rejecting me, because our friendship would’ve… I don’t think it would’ve lasted. And I’d rather have you as a friend than tell you have I feel you and lose you.’

‘You wouldn’t have lost me,’ she whispers. Her thumb glides across his cheek and he leans into her palm.

‘I didn’t know.’

‘You never tried.’

JJ sighs, then kisses the inside of her palm. ‘Even if I did, Kie, I was the guy from the wrong side of the island. A Maybank, at that. I wouldn’t have been good enough. You deserved better than whatever I could’ve been.’

She shakes her head to the point he feels her whole body trembling with the movement. ‘I never thought that way, JJ.’

‘But I did,’ he says. ‘And even if you liked me back, I wouldn’t have been able to get over that. I wouldn’t have thought that something that good could happen to someone like me.’

Her hands are gentle and he tries to relax, even though his own are gripping the back of her shirt.

Somewhere in the distance, an owl hoots. The water is still, but he can hear movement – despite the death of the Chateau, life around it went on. JJ finds some comfort in that – their lives, too, went on.

One of Kiara’s hands is dropped to his thigh, caressing it. ‘I wouldn’t have rejected you, you know.’

JJ lets out a shaky breath. ‘Really?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Oh.’

‘Yeah.’

He laughs, dropping his head. ‘Well, I feel like a fool now.’

Kiara laughs, too, and he wishes he could bottle the sound. Her hand reaches under his chin and pulls it up. ‘We got there in the end.’

And then she’s kissing him again, with her arms wrapped around his neck.

JJ’s finally getting to kiss Kiara with no fear, no holding back, no worries that they’d come to regret it, and the world doesn’t stop. The world keeps spinning, and somehow that’s even better.

If you told JJ from a decade ago that he’d be making out with Kiara at the Chateau pier, he would’ve called you crazy. But she’s in his hands, her skin is on his fingertips as he slips his hand underneath the back of her top, and she tastes like her favourite beer. She’s warm and smells lovely and her teeth are grazing his lip and god, JJ feels like he’s won the lottery.

He wants this. All of it. Everything.

He doesn’t want to let go. He doesn’t want to stop kissing her and have to go back to his house, to his two jobs, to living the measly life he’s had for the past few years – how could he do that, after getting a taste of what he could’ve had? Of what could’ve been?

So kisses her fervently, ferociously, like a starved man.

He’s not letting her go this time. Not without knowing she’s coming back.

His hands are firm as he pulls her even closer, his kisses shifting to her neck, her hands reaching under her shirt. His skin is on fire with her touch and he craves it, and he nearly pushes them over the pier as he tries to get her to lie down.

‘Kie,’ he breathes between the kisses to her stomach, making his way up her chest.

‘Yeah?’

‘I fucking love you.’

JJ kisses her before she gets a chance to respond, and he knows this is a drug he’s already addicted to.

The sun is long gone and JJ holds Kiara’s hand as they sit on the pier. They’ve both come back to their senses and the world is quiet now, patient. Falling asleep. Kiara’s head is leaned on JJ’s shoulder and his arm is wrapped around her waist, his thumb caressing the skin just underneath her waistband.

For the past half-hour or so, they’ve been talking about all the times they missed the signs. Both of them did, even though JJ thought he’d made it obvious – from little comments to grand gestures that were misread, and it’s hilarious, now. It wouldn’t have been if things turned out differently, but neither of them goes there.

They talk about their lives, too. JJ tells her more about her coworkers and his appreciation for them and she listens, not interrupting him once.

JJ kisses the top of her head, still in disbelief that he can. ‘What’s on your mind?’

She doesn’t respond right away. She nuzzles into him, instead, and he spreads his palm to cover as much of her as he can.

‘I’m staying on the island,’ she says.

‘What?’

‘I’m staying here. On Kildare.’

‘Why? Kie—’

‘Listen.’ She moves away to look him in the eye – even in the darkness, JJ can see the determination. ‘I want to be with you. That’s all. But I’m not— I know how much the island means to you. I can’t take that away from you. I won’t. If that means staying here—’

‘No.’

‘JJ—’

‘I said no.’ He runs his hands through his hair, tugging it slightly at the ends. ‘Kie, this is not happening. You’re being ridiculous. I stayed behind because I never had a reason to leave. Because everyone else left, and someone had to stay behind, for when you’d come home. I promised to be here.’

He cups her face and looks her straight-on, not caring about the wetness underneath his fingertips. ‘The island isn’t a home, Kie, not if you’re not here. You are.’

All she manages is a whisper of his name. He kisses her forehead, her nose, her cheeks, her lips. She says his name again but he shakes his head, kissing her once more.

‘Wherever you go, I’ll follow.’ He kisses her again. ‘If you’ll let me. If you don’t go where I can’t follow.’

‘I would never,’ Kiara says, and he’s kissing the salt on her lips. ‘But your life—’

‘I’m tired of the island, anyway. I never had to reason to leave but now I do, and I’ve got money saved up, and I’m ready, Kie. I’m ready to do this.’

She looks at him and she’s smiling again, even though her cheeks are glistening; he resists the urge to kiss them dry. ‘You’re ready?’

‘You took a leap of faith all those years ago and it led you here,’ he says, smiling right back. ‘This is my leap of faith.’

Kiara wraps her arms around him and curls into him; JJ knows she can hear his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest and doesn’t care.

This was his biggest leap of faith. He’d never in a million years he’d be here, so who’s to say anything else he’s believed in is certain, either? He’s got friends and a life on the island but he’d never be anything but a Maybank here, with scolding looks waiting for him at every corner. If he left—with Kiara—he’d get to be more. He’d get to choose.

Kissing Kiara was the hardest thing he’d ever done. Anything else… It only seems natural to go where she goes. To never have to wait for her again but if he has to, he will. Forever, if that’s what it takes. He’s already done the scariest thing, so why not do this, too?

‘I love you, too, JayJ.’

And just like that, JJ’s future rewrites itself.

#jiara #jiara fanfic #outer banks #obx #outer banks fanfiction #obx fanfiction #jj maybank #kiara carrera #jj maybank x kiara carrera #my fic #half of this was written in 2020 and half like. yesterday #can you tell #also reposting bc i posted with the wrong title and for some reason couldn't change it

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yoonshrimpp · 2 years ago

Text

[ SUNDAY MORNING - JEONGCHEOL ]

"Jeonghan-ah, I'm here!"

Seungcheol's voice echoed through the hall of Jeonghan's apartment. He hanged his soaking wet coat at the entrance as he closed the wooden door behind him. He took off his equally wet shoes. Taking a look at his socks he suddenly regretted that specific choice. Jeonghan was gonna make fun of the dinosaurs on them, for sure. He sighed at the thought, unintetionally smiling to himself.

The house was quiet. The only noise he could hear was the rain hitting the big window in the living room. He walked through it, trying not to focus on the plants that were definitely being a bit too ignored by their owner.

"Jeonghanie?" he called again.

He finally reached the corridor and saw that the door to his bedroom was open. He could hear some music coming from it. He rolled his eyes when he recognized the song.

The moment he peeked into the room he immideately got hit by a strong smell of vanilla, but a sweeter one, more sugary. At the same time though it made him feel fresh all over, like recently cleaned clothes or like the first snow on Christmas day.

Jeonghan was sitting crossed legged on the big white rug between the queen size bed and the wardrobe, which was open. It seemed like it had exploded. Clothes were spread everywhere on the floor and on the bed, luckily not on Jeonghan too. The man was sitting still, looking at two sweaters laying in front of him. He seemed extremely concentrated as he bit his thumb.

Seungcheol chuckled "What are you doing?"

Jeonghan raised his brows, not even surprised by his presence. "Its sweater season Cheol, i gotta change the clothes in my closet." He picked up one of the two sweaters that he was so focused on "I have to choose what i want to keep for winter."

Seungcheol carefully made his way between the colored different types of fabrics that were covering the entirety of the bedroom's floor and went to sit on the bed, right behind Jeonghan. The now almost longhaired man leaned back, resting on his legs. Seungcheol's hand instinctively went to stroke those dark hair he loved so much.

"Did Joshua make you obsessed with this song too?" He said, a sweet smile on his face as he felt the younger relax under his fingertips. "I won't admit that. Let's just say that its the perfect song for today." He said as he folded some white jeans. Seungcheol looked at him from above "Hm?" "It's sunday, its morning and its raining. Couldn't be more accurate."

Seungcheol took a deep breath, nodding. Maybe the scent of Jeonghan's yankee candle was getting to his head but he suddenly felt sleepy once again, reminding him about the initial intent of his visit. "Jeonghan-ah..." He whispered, his lips coming in contact with the younger’s hair and he leaned down to kiss it. The latter seemed to melt on the spot, but replied anyways "Cheol, I really gotta do this...and i gotta study too." "But i can't sleep without someone to cuddle." He pouted as Jeonghan brought his head back to look at him. The older took his opportunity and left a small peck on his lips.

"You're such a child." Jeonghan said as he closed his eyes. Seungcheol's hands were back at doing that scalp massage that was making it extremelly difficult for him not to surrender. So he got up, broke the spell. Seungcheol's pout turned into a gummy smile, thinking he had won. Contrarily to his expectations, after Jeonghan made him lay back on the bed, he just grabbed a fluffy pink blanket and covered him neatly with it.

Seungcheol whined "Oh, come on! I'll help you study later if you cuddle with me now!"

"I'm not falling into this Choi Seungcheol. The deal was you'd sleep here only if you'd let me study in peace."

The latter just groaned loudly this time, accepting his fate and burried his face deeped into the blanket. It wasn't a bad idea after all. Jeonghan was always more calm after he had studied and done everything he had to do, which would have made the cuddles even better later. He rubbed his eyes, already feeling drowsy after that sleepless night. That's why he had come there in the first place, to catch up on sleep. When Jeonghan offered him to come over he couldn't believe it and he had rushed into his car and crossed the whole city under the rain to get there as soon as possible.

But now those dim lights, that soft song, the comfy blanket and that fresh but sweet smell, were ralaxing him so quickly that in a few seconds he found himself drifting into sleep.

Jeonghan closed the closet with a sigh, now ready to focus on studying but when he turned around the most beautiful view caught him off guard.

Seungcheol was sleeping soundly, plump red lips parted as he breathed out slowly.

He couldn't resist and he brought a hand to caress his hair, still a bit wet from the rain. He smiled and leaned to leave a ginger kiss on his forehead as he whispered a three words phrase coming from the bottom on his heart.

#jeongcheol #yoon jeonghan #choi seungcheol #svt #coupjeong

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imaginesomethingrand · 8 months ago

Text

Unbroken

Alexei paces the exercise yard, wind slicing through his coat. It’s even colder now, since, for some reason, they brought him out earlier than usual, practically the middle of the night. Of course, it is always night here. The stars sparkle above, a bracingly clear early morning in the Arctic.

Something has changed; he can sense it, but he isn’t sure what. Perhaps a switch to more active torment, since he was shuttled off here to such a remote place. He senses he was brought here to be killed more quickly, or perhaps to be forgotten, which would be worse.

The cold is definitely a part of killing me more quickly , he thinks. Perhaps this is it. The reason I was taken out here so early. Shove me in here to slowly die of frostbite....

His fingers are already tingling with warning numbness, and he rubs his cuffed hands together to get feeling back into them. He strides the eleven steps across the yard as quickly as possible despite the biting cold in his legs. He’d been out here almost an hour already.

The door creaks open. Ah—just an earlier time for some reason and I’ll be taken back inside—he longs for warmth--

Three figures step into the exercise yard, clad in black. A tall one and two others basically the same height as each other. The tall man has the steady, steely gaze of those in the security force. He takes a quick drag on a cigarette as the other two file in beside him. It's cramped here, barely room for three more people. They stand at the opposite end, eyeing him as if sizing him up. The one on the left is quite young, his cheeks rosy with cold, his eyes slightly uncertain. He catches Alexei’s eyes then looks away uncomfortably. The other’s eyes are eager, fanatic, his thick lips curling up in an almost sadistic smirk.

Alexei’s heart sinks.

So this is it. Perhaps just preliminary torture, ‘softening up’ for who knows how long... but it’s the beginning of the march to the end.

He is surprised at his detachment; he can almost examine this event separately, as something objective, apart from him. Perhaps it’s shock. Or perhaps it’s that I knew this was coming all along... a much higher chance than 50/50 by the time I stepped off the train....

The FSB leader advances—Alexei is sure he’s FSB, despite the fact there are no markings on their clothes. The leader is cold, all business, his eyes dark as flint, devoid of hatred, merely possessing a remote, dispassionate resolve. It’s totally impersonal for him, like he’s exterminating a bothersome insect.

The kick comes sharp, for all he’s been expecting something of the sort. It slams into his shin, the pain exacerbated because of the cold. He falls, unable to catch himself because of the handcuffs, landing facedown in the snow. He breathes cold bits of it and ice laces down his throat, choking him. He barely has time to catch a breath of actual air before the next kick slams into his ribs, tossing him onto his back. Sharp pain rips down his spine, carving deep into the small of his back. He can’t help but cry out. And feel shame for it.

Blows rain down, the dark figures silhouetted against the starry sky. Only glints of their eyes visible. They don’t discriminate—his legs, his side, his stomach, his shoulders. He can’t even struggle away; the pain is too vicious. One of them kicks his head; they don’t care about cameras, and this sends chills racing through him that have nothing to do with the cold. It hits home what he is facing—it's real this time, outside of some miraculous rescue. Fear blossoms over his heart, squeezing it tightly, numbing its edges.

No fear, he chastises himself just as one of them kicks his ribs particularly hard and slams him up against the concrete wall. Pain bursts through his nose—they've broken it, he registers, as blood flows hot down over his lips. Despite himself, he relishes the small lick of warmth, banishing the numbness from the snow.

He lays awkwardly against the wall for a moment before rough hands pull him away, laying him flat again, his back aching, pain throbbing from all directions. The sky is beautiful, though, and he looks beyond those beings that really should be irrelevant and are irrelevant in the vastness of it--

“Some hero of Russia,” says the leader, contempt on his face. He spits, just barely missing the hem of Alexei’s coat. It sizzles in the snow.... or at least, that’s how it seems.

Yes well—you're not winning any hero prizes yourself, he thinks, longing to fire back, but the words are trapped in his throat. Pain chomps into his side, his back agonizing, his head ringing and his vision slightly blurred. The coppery tang of blood seeps into his mouth.

The blood, for some reason, un-numbs his tongue and he says—perhaps forgetting to regard his own health and safety, although he knows it really is past that point now-- “Is that the best you can do?” He's breathless, ice crystals stabbing his lungs.

The leader looks down with detached disdain and steps back, leaning against the back wall, and lights a cigarette. The other two advance, the first, who has the compact muscles of a boxer, dancing forward, the other shuffling with uncertainty. The kid is rather new to this, and Alexei almost feels sorry for him.

Almost.

The boxer motions the kid forward and they lift him onto his knees. Alexei forces himself to stay upright even though he’s shaking, the pain telling him to stay down, give up. Just end this already... sink down into the cold and sleep...

Fire flashes through his mind.

No. I’m not surrendering in the last moments just because there are no cameras. Russia will never see me again, but I must be worthy of her, of what I told her she should be.

I am Russia, after all. A piece of her. Blood of my blood, flesh of my flesh...

The fire in his mind blazes through his heart, warming it like a furnace, supercharged with anger at what they’ve done to him. For it’s not only to him, but to Russia. They have caged her, beaten her, turned her into a slave that barely has the energy to fight her abusers.

Perhaps she is too far gone... perhaps she’ll be killed at the end... but if there’s anything in me, if I can somehow give her some of my spirit with my dying breath... this spark light the furnace in her heart--

The boxer grabs his chin, thrusts it upwards. “Not so great now, are you? Thought you could be something, with your marches and your speeches but you’re just a weak, pathetic prisoner, dying for nothing. We can do anything to you—anything.” He smiles wryly as he glances at the kid. “He is a pretty thing, isn’t he? Those eyes! There’s something about that ridiculous defiance that’s tantalizing... just begging to be broken.”

Alexei’s heart flips over. Perhaps it’s just metaphor. But even though he’s escaped unscathed so far, he has no illusions about what’s done to many in prison. Perhaps it’s...only fitting I not escape the fate of so many others of my people...

A bite of fear shoots through his heart and suddenly he’s aware of the cold again. They’ve half-frozen him so he can’t fight back... even if his hands were free...

The boxer—the sadist—caresses his jaw with his gloved hand. He glances at the kid. “What do you say? Shall we give the hero his last sendoff?”

The kid scowls as if he’s not quite sure what he means. “You--You have to be kidding. It’s freezing.” He rubs his hands, concentrating on his fingers.

The sadist smirks. “His mouth is warm. Maybe.” He laughs, brushing off a bit of snow clinging to Alexei’s cheek. “Not every day you have the prime enemy of the people in your hands.” He slides his hand behind Alexei’s shaved head, holding him there as he leans down, peering into his eyes with the condescending possessiveness of someone who will take what he wants no matter what his victim prefers.

Unpleasant chills ripple over Alexei’s skin. He was, as far as could be, prepared for death, but this is another story. With death so close, he'd almost escaped it, but now....

The sadist draws his hand forward and kisses the top of his head tenderly, the parody of a kiss of an older brother. A sick feeling twists deep in Alexei’s stomach, even as he appreciates the warmth of the other’s body, longs for it... can barely have mental bandwidth to be shocked at that...

At least I’m so cold I’ll barely be able to feel it.

I will be a complete metaphor for my country.... raped in the snow...

The sadist unbuttons his coat and pushes it aside to unzip his pants.

But no. I’m not just lying down and taking it—it may be futile, but if there’s a chance to escape the worst--

Alexei seizes the opportunity while the sadist is occupied to wriggle to the side and use the wall to push himself to his feet. Pain cuts through him, and his feet and legs are nearly numb and hard to command, but at least he’s up.

I'm not giving them any sort of satisfaction as long as I can help it.

The sadist advances, and Alexei stands firm and tall, facing him. Despite his handcuffs he tries to cut a menacing figure, using his height to full advantage, even though he’s not near as imposing now that he’s lost so much weight. But he draws on the furnace in his heart, forged in the fires of his homeland-- Russia has made him more than he’s tried to mold her. In the end, he owes her—so much.

The sadist takes another step and Alexei throws himself forward, slamming his head into the other man’s. Sparks burst across his vision and he realizes it might not have been the best move. Pain slices through his skull.

The sadist staggers backwards, clutching his head, swearing under his breath. He fumbles for the baton at his belt and Alexei shakes his head, trying to clear his mind enough to act. Despite his body begging him to stop, he shoves forward again just as the rod comes down. It’s denied some of its impact, but it slams into his side, then jabs hard into his ribs, and his boots lose purchase in the snow. He collapses to his knees, jarring them hard before the stick whams into his temple and for a moment everything’s black.

Again, lying on his stomach, face-first in snow. His cheek burning from being scraped on the cement. Blood flows hot inside his mouth and he realizes he’s lost a tooth.

How much can they brazenly lie about? How much of this will they be able to explain away? Will they simply toss me in an unmarked grave somewhere... will my family even get to know what happened--

Hands on his waist freeze him. The sadist is fumbling beneath his coat for his waistband. Shock seizes his throat. He trembles, longing to escape such ignominy but for the moment he’s pressed to the ground, paralyzed. The vigorous exercise has heated his limbs a little, but still, it’s a losing battle against the cold.

Sharp tears sting his eyes and he feels ashamed it’s come to this. That the skin Yulia touched will be used by this filthy government attack dog--

Anger flares hot in him, spreading out through his limbs. He slams his boot backward and feels a satisfying crunch.

Exultation roars through him. He slides up onto one elbow, reaching for enough strength to stand--

“You bitch! You broke my nose! I’m going to smash you up then I’ll teach you the only thing you’re good for--”

The rod slams hard onto his shoulder and it’s the cement again. Pain bites into his cheek, but he feels a strange sort of triumph all the same. As the rod comes down, he relishes it—just a good old-fashioned beating after all. Perhaps I've done enough to escape the worst.

Blood seeps dark onto the cement, staining the snow. He hardly feels the blows anymore.

Images of his family float into his mind, hazy and indistinct. He reaches out for them but they fade and the worst pain possible stabs his heart, like a sword pinning him to the ground....

Another blow glances across his head; something cracks. The rod or his skull he’s not sure...

“Enough!” says a voice, trembling yet clear.

“What?” says the sadist.

“He--he’s had enough,” says the kid.

“Mercy? Have you gone soft? Or would you like him for yourself?”

The kid shakes his head.

“Suit yourself.” The rod raises again out of the corner of Alexei’s eye, and he braces himself even though he feels nearly shattered at this point.

“No, he's right,” says a firm voice and the leader steps into view, his cigarette burning like an ember in the darkness. He takes a long drag of the cigarette, then looks at the others. “We want this op to stay clean. Relatively.” He looks down at Alexei, taking in the blood spattering the snow. Then he tosses the cigarette to the ground and grinds it under his heel, tiny sparks swallowed by darkness. The smell of the smoke fills the air. Alexei is glad for a sensation other than pain.

“Get him up,” says the leader, and the kid and the sadist lift him up. His feet scrabble for purchase but they’re numb, and don’t work quite right. Tears stream down his face, the salt seeping into his mouth and he’s ashamed at the show of weakness in front of his enemies. But it hurts, it hurts....

They press him up against the back wall. Alexei manages to get his feet under him, but only with their support. He wishes he could stand on his own, get some sort of proper victory at the end, but perhaps there really is none... the journey is over.... he has done all he could do...

The leader regards him dispassionately, examining him as if he’s some sort of interesting specimen. Sizing him up. His steely eyes calculating, devoid of any human feeling. Then he gives a nod. “Take off his coat.”

“The handcuffs--” says the sadist.

“Well, get them off. He’s no threat now. As if he ever was.” The biting comment is still a rather impersonal thing; to the agent, he’s simply a bothersome nuisance that will be dealt with, like all enemies of the state.

The kid unlocks his handcuffs and they fall to the ground, clanging dully on the snowdrifted cement. Relief floods him so much he has the irrational desire to hug and kiss the young man—it's a semblance of freedom. Fire rings his wrists where the metal cut into them but he barely has time to register this when the men tug the coat off his shoulders, dragging it down past his back.

The cold crashes into him like a wave, taking his breath away. He shivers as the cold sinks deep into his flesh.

They could just leave me here like this and it would be over in a few minutes...

But they don’t want such a calm death for me, he realizes.

This is personal.

Of course it is. It always has been.

The old man in the bunker refuses to speak my name and thinks that’s strength? He’s the one that’s leeching this country of its life... he’s the evil one sitting on his throne.... a savior needs to cut him down one of these days.

I thought it would be me for a while there...

He realizes his thoughts are slurring and he barely can gather enough energy to sense the spark of fear that generates.

To lose oneself.... to collapse, here in the darkness.... alone....

The punch slams into his chest; it feels like he’s been shot straight through the wall. But it’s still there behind him and they’re still holding him up... the boy beside him catches his eye and there's a glimmer of apology there... of shame to be pinning a helpless prisoner as he’s beaten to death....

A hint of human feeling, even here. Not much, but I’ll take it.

The next punch slams even harder and his heart gives out. Darkness clouds the edge of his vision.

No!

Dasha, Zakhar—I have to get out—I have to see the beautiful young people you’ve become.... He can see their faces now, as clear as daylight, and his heart aches with the pain of separation... he can’t bear the thought of never seeing them again, never hearing Dasha’s laugh or hugging Zakhar close to him....

Yulia is there and her eyes are brilliant blue against the shifting shadows beyond. She reaches for him. He reaches for her hand, but they hold him back from her, and instead, she comes to him and places a kiss on his lips.....

My love....

Even as the next blow comes, nearly shaking him apart, strength surges through him, light blazing out of his hands and eyes, burning them all down—it's an illusion but he revels in it, and in the fact he can barely feel any pain anymore...

One more thing...I can’t just leave without getting the last word... something... something for them to know I'm not defeated... they can kill me but they can’t crush me, can’t take my soul, can’t take all I've worked for. That belongs to me.

He moves his lips, purposefully without speaking aloud.

The leader leans forward, looking slightly annoyed at the interruption.

The snow is still and cold and calm and he speaks, his breath visible in the dim light...

He only has energy for two words.

“I win.”

A vague sense of puzzlement crosses the leader’s face before he seems to shake it off, his expression back to the mask of detached resolve.

There is pain still, cutting into him; it feels like his body is disjointed, there’s something broken inside. His breath is labored; it’s like there’s something heavy on his chest, pushing him down. A deep throbbing ache spreads through him, so all-encompassing he can hardly comprehend it, yet half-numbed by the biting wind—a mercy.

My cold beautiful Russia, my savior in the end.

This one’s for you.

He collapses into the snow; one moment he’s up, head lolling; the next he’s looking up at the stars. No pain. The stars—they're so beautiful, so much more vibrant than he’s ever seen them, and they beckon to him.

He feels himself slipping away, and pieces of him dissipating, rising like bright sparks, blending with the stars until he’s one with their brilliant piercing glow.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54065314?show_comments=true#comments

#writing #fanfic #sort of #navalny #death #February 16 #torture #attempted rape #prison #fsb #russia

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designernishiki · 1 year ago

Note

I saw your post where you said something like «Kiryu and Mayumi slept in the same bed for six months» and... I kina doubt it. This bed is too small for two people, it hardly accommodates Kiryu, given his size. So she was probably either sleeping on the floor or sleeping somewhere else.

For some reason I always thought that she didn't live with him at all, just came there from time to time. If you look at the apartment where Kiryu lives, you can see that there are only his things there and no other things. And I don't remember exactly, but Mayumi's profile at the beginning of the game says something like «she's disappointed that their relationship won't get off the ground» or something like that. So, yes, the poor girl was desperate for him while he was in his le gay depression phase.

okay so I was waiting to answer this until I started legit playing 5 so I could have a bit more context and whatnot and now I have done that and hdhxjcjdjv boy do I have a lot of thoughts. warning: this is kinda long.

so I can clarify now that– yeah– they weren’t actually living together technically, she would just come over a lot and spend the night there regardless of his opinion on it (which typically was “you should go home” or “you should stay at your own place for once” no im not just being mean, those are both almost word-for-word). she does have slippers there by the door that denote she’s there often, but his apartment’s pretty barren overall, which to me says less about her being around or not, and more about him probably only going home when he needs to sleep or runs out of things to do, not hanging around there much otherwise– he’s got no books, no radio, nothing. just an ashtray on the table. It’s safe to say it’s not a place he enjoys being in.

And yeah, it’s bizarre how many people say “kiryu had a girlfriend for six months” despite her profile and kiryu himself in dialogue stating… kind of the opposite? ie; that they were not a couple, kiryu was disinterested in her, and their lack of a relationship/kiryu’s lack of interest was frustrating to her. She was never his girlfriend despite her giving her all to get him to budge, and that’s kind of an important part of the dynamic.

(here’s her character profile for reference.)

As for the bed thing… honestly I’ve got no idea how that worked. cause you’re totally right, that bed is SMALL– relatively small for kiryu alone let alone two people, and she wasn’t legit living there so obviously she didn’t have her own room or anything. so my bet’s either that there was a futon that could be rolled out, since that’s pretty common in japan, or that she slept kinda cuddled up close to him and he just sort of laid there stiffly not really sure what to do about it– probably wearing him down with the good ol “well there’s only one bed and I wouldn’t want either of us to have to sleep on the floor…” one night, and she took that and ran with it from then on. either way, also of note, whenever she was around (or could show up at any time) he wore a full sweatsuit, even while in bed. yeah you could blame it on it being winter and all, but come on man who he hell wears a sweatshirt and sweatpants to bed. I think he was just genuinely uncomfortable with the idea of being unclothed in close quarters with her.

it seems like he wasn’t sleeping much in the first place anyway, so I don’t doubt he’d end up slipping away and falling asleep either on the floor or at the table or whatever at times. we know he’s not a big fan of being touched and cuddled or whatever when he doesn’t want it/by almost anyone, so I think it’d just be an ongoing losing battle between not wanting to be too harsh or rude, and preserving his own comfort and boundaries. as an autistic guy who’s particular about his sleeping conditions and necessary privacy myself, it kind of sounds like a nightmare not gonna lie.

anywho. I don’t wanna sound too negative towards mayumi as a character or anything, but it’s pretty straightforward that she was imposing on him quite a bit and did go beyond his boundaries at a time when he was especially emotionally vulnerable– and he let her in because she was in a place of vulnerability, at least so he thought. there’s plot reasons for her persistence in being there to an extent, and maybe that’s why she didn’t take the very very obvious hint that he was not interested in her and not just playing hard to get (is it really a hint when he tells her directly to her face? whatever you get it)

#long post #rambling #kiryu #y5 #mayumi #sorry this is a LOT #I just. was watching the details very carefully when I started the game so I have a lot to analyze #really doesn’t take any analysis though to know that she was absolutely not his girlfriend though like literally why do people say that all #the time. did they play the game. because he rejects her multiple times and it’s written right there in her profile. are people just that #insistent on proving he’s into women. I don’t know man #the bed thing really is a mystery. it’s anyone’s guess #but no matter what you know the man was wearing FULL SWEATS shahshafjdjhs

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awrldalone · 1 year ago

Text

4th September 2023

Today I finished moving into my new apartment. It took a few days, but now I think I have finally settled. A lot has happened in the months since my previous entry, almost a whole year has passed – I stopped writing because everything felt so repetitive, and constantly talking about it made me feel stuck in this murky whirlpool of cold days and aimless studying. I was drowning in myself, repeating the same words, complaining about the same problems. Endlessly.

I felt like a stick of wood stuck in the river current, an abandoned lighthouse in the storm.

Typing does not come as easy now. Documenting everything paralyzes me. Part of me feels betrayed: how dare I write about what I did today when there is no record of yesterday, of the months from February to August? I dare.

I visited a Musée Cernuschi today. It is an impressive collection of Asian art, mainly from China and Japan and Vietnam, collected by one of those nineteenth century rich French men. The sheer size of some of the sculptures stunned me. An extremely detailed bronze dragon, which was an incense burner, a winding tiger covered in some golden metal and an enormous statue of buddha got all of my attention, but the pottery was also, simply, pretty. Mundane things have a right to be pieces of art – in an ideal world a small bowl should be no less beautiful than Botticelli's Madonna della Melagrana. For this reason I have been struggling to buy things, stuff for my apartment.

It's a small room at the sixth floor of a beautiful old building, no elevator. I can see the roofs of Paris from my window. I am living in Paris now and it feels... odd. Some might say it feels like a dream, but everything feels so real, material, concrete. It's not perfect, and i know that living here will be hard, but it's better.

Moving has not gone smoothly, I had to take care of a lot of things, like signing an electricity contract and changing the washing machine and cleaning for hours, but now I'm here, on my bed, listening to music from my phone and trying not to use up all my internet data before I get WIFI installed.

–

February I got back together with my boyfriend. Everything is still so complicated, but right after I went back to Maastricht I left, without telling anyone, not even my parents, and I flew all the way to Lyon with only a few sweaters and my history of law textbook in my bag. I spent a few days with him, and everything was perfect again.

Then, during carnival we went to the mountains together. He tried to teach me how to ski, and I failed miserably, falling in the snow countless times. His parents own a little apartment, furnished with a warm wood that makes it feel smaller than it is, but never claustrophobic. He got sick and I played doctor, but it was all just an excuse for him to skip his classes and for me to stay at his place.

In March, it was his turn to come. It was a snowy month, cold, not much happened– he stayed over for a weekend. I installed a DS emulator on his laptop and we played Pokémon instead of studying, and I started doubting everything again. I always doubt everything. I still don't know if it's meticulousness or an unnerving inability to let myself have good things. We made chocolate covered strawberries, but the chocolate was not tempered and the fruit was wet.

We saw each other about once a month. My old glasses broke as I picked them up after having washed my face. The frame split without a word or a warning, and one of the lenses fell to the ground.

Once, in April, he came to Venice as I went back home for a few days during Easter. At the end of the month I went all the way to Lyon by bus and train, stopping in Lille for a few hours. Lille is a peculiar city, it feels more Belgian than French, the only way to describe it is a city proud to have been built at the border between two countries.

After my university's MUN, in May, I took the bus again to Lille, and the train again to Lyon, because M.'s university was having an end of year party. Then, we did not see each other for a long time. I got into Sorbonne. I was waitlisted at first, and I spent a few days biting my nails at the library, among all the medicine students.

I took a train to Paris in June to look for an apartment. I spend a few weeks between Venice and Rome with a Korean friend of mine. I travelled through central Italy – Assisi and Firenze and Siena – with some friends.

A lot happened. A lot. But if I started writing down everything I would not be faithful to time. It irks me to see that the most eventful moments have been centered around my relationship. I am my own person, and the passage of my time should not be dictated by kisses. Love cannot be my metronome. I am not sure if I am happy to be in a relationship: Ce. and I talked about this a few weeks ago, in Florence, and we both agreed that making decisions while in high waters is always a bad idea. She was also in high waters, with her mouth under the waves. I need to let things fall into place before I can understand my feelings fully. Perhaps writing about them will help clear out my head. Perhaps I can't just wait for things to sort them out by themselves, I need to keep unraveling this ball of yarn just to roll it back up.

Ago ergo sum. Our mandate is to create.

-c.

#diary

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haywire-cebus · 2 years ago

Text

Five Weeks

We Could Have Been Anywhere

Preview:

The air smells different, too. A pleasant kind of different. Like the apple trees behind Legend’s house, the first time they portaled close enough to stop by. They hadn’t gotten to stay, the next portal showed up in the morning and they already arrived late at night.

Sky thinks Legend appreciated the chance to see Ravio, anyways. He was an eccentric fellow, so unlike Legend in every way except for how he was exactly like Legend.

Sky has always loved falling. Tumbling through the sky and trusting his loftwing to catch him. The wind in his hair. The gut-wrenching and instinctual panic he can never shake but stays addicted too.

It’s all wonderful.

Which makes it a shame how uncomfortable the portals make him.

The feeling is nearly identical, especially when they appear right under their feet or pop them out high above the ground. He assumes it’s something about the lack of control. He doesn’t know his loftwing--or anything--will be there to catch him. He just has to trust the Goddess that their landing will be kind.

And he does. He trusts her with his heart and soul. And yet, whatever is making these portals does not bear the same love of the Goddess.

He can only hope that she can control the portals enough to keep them alive.

He has nearly identical thoughts each time they fall through a portal, with varying degrees of panic lacing through them.

This time is rather innocuous. After wading through the mud of a thick swamp in Twilight’s land, somewhere the hero had never seen before, he was almost grateful to see a portal show up.

But the hesitancy remained.

He went through, of course. By this point they were all positive they didn’t have much of a choice. As they went, he sent a quick prayer that they would land somewhere that at least had ground he could stand on without the fear of sinking under and air he could breathe without it choking up.

Feet his solid ground, the soft dirt with only the slightest give that reminds him of his first time on the untamed land of Faron Woods, and he knows his prayers were answered. It’s not his Hyrule; they’re on a plain, and he thinks he can see the beginnings of a small village to the west.

Sky thinks Legend appreciated the chance to see Ravio, anyways. He was an eccentric fellow, so unlike Legend in every way except for how he was exactly like Legend.

The similarities continue as Legend steps forward, the beginnings of a soft smile on his face. “This is mine. Not Hyrule though, we’re in Holodrum.”

Four cocks his head, brushing himself off with the slightest pinch to his face betraying the headache the switch likely gave him, “That’s that small neighboring kingdom to the North, right?”

Legend waves his hand in a so-so as he begins walking towards the distant village. “It’s certainly grown since your time. Made it a pain in the ass to traverse- it’s huge. It has some… colorful citizens.”

Sky glances over the rest of the group, and barely catches as Time reaches for his claymore.

He whirls around, hand moving to where the Master Sword rests on his hip, searching for what enemy their unspoken leader has seen.

It’s a trail of wagons, led by either horses or donkeys. Sky is still awful at telling them apart. He could lecture everyone on the subtle variations in loftwings- from overall size, tail feathers, wing feathers, beak shape- but the newer land animals are hard to get a solid grasp on. He gets enough to tell these aren’t monsters, so he lets go of his sword as the wagons begin to pass them on the trail.

His hand goes right back to his sword as the wagons stop suddenly with a cry of, “Link!”

It’s dropped immediately when he looks to Legend and see’s the strangest sight; a bewildered yet fond expression on his face, hands nowhere near his sword and instead cross against his chest.

Time only released his own grip when Legend calls out, “if it isn’t Jovan’s overworked showmonkeys!”

Two women, identical except for their hair, jump off of the back of the closest wagon, rushing Legend. Sky lets it happen, noting how he backs away uncomfortably, but not in any way he recognizes as him truly needing space. It’s identical to how he acted when he introduced them all to Ravio, before he was inseparable from the man the rest of the night.

Feeling more than seeing Warrior’s stand next to him, he hears a soft, “how is that asshole popular everywhere?”

The blonde woman presses a large kiss to Legends cheek, who shoves her away with a scowl. “Mel, come on.”

Her sister, as Sky assumes, with long black hair pleated down her back, pulls her away, “Yeah, you know I was always his favorite.”

Legend scrunches his face up to dispute when a small form comes barreling into him. It’s likely only instinct born from being around Wind that keeps Legend from bowling over as the kid cheers. “Legend! I’m officially an acrobat now!”

“Shit, really?”

“Legend! Language around the kid!” A girl around Legend’s age, with a strangely pointed hat, approaches. She glances around at everyone, somehow the first of the slowly amassing group to notice them. “Also, who’re your friends? I seem to remember you not wanting anyone around on your special journey.”

Legend whips around to glare at her. “Oh, yeah, I suppose it is weird that I didn’t want to hang around someone who kept trying to steal from me-”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

An older man walks up from the front of the wagon, and puts a hand on Legend’s shoulder, “you finally come crawling back to old Jovan’s?”

Finally making his way to the front of the group, Time greets the group of travelers, or clowns, or whatever they are. Some form of entertainers, Sky has gathered. Time holds out his hand. “I’m afraid he’s with us for the foreseeable future. My name is Time, can I ask how you know our brother?”

The child yells at Time’s words, charging at Legend again. “What! You have this many brothers!”

Wild has since made his way over to Legend as well, and helps him extract the kid from his arm as he lies, “he actually has twelve more.”

“Twelve-”

“I don’t have twelve more brothers, Rishu. Wild’s just an idiot.”

“Hey-”

Sky turns his attention back to the adults of the group, who are discussing where they are headed, instead of being mean to children.

He just catches as Time says, “we wouldn’t mind the ride, if you have room. We’ve been on our feet for days in less than favorable conditions, I’m sure you can tell.”

“Of course!” Jovan looks them all over, “we should be able to help you all wash up, too. On one condition.”

“No.” Legend speaks up, stepping away from the kid who seems to be fully engaged with Wild now. The sisters are chatting with Warriors, and Sky hates to judge but it’s really not that surprising to him, and an older fellow with a guitar has grabbed Four’s attention. Legend goes on, “I’m not doing it, Jovan.”

“Just an easy payment-”

“No.”

Warriors steps forwards, “we have rupees, if you need us to pay our way.”

Jovan waves his hand, laughing. “No, no. I just want old Link here to perform with us again! He helped draw quite the crowds back in the day!”

“I did no such thing!”

Sky knows that’s a lie, as the tips of his ears have gone red. Typically, he gives pity on Legend and tries to give him some leeway with these things. The hero is easily embarrassed about the simplest things, and Sky likes to respect that.

However, he can’t say he doesn’t want to see Legend perform whatever it is he can do. So he speaks up, “Legend, we’re all very tired. And,” he glances over at their quietest companion, who has been watching this all go down and appears very confused, “I think Hyrule sprained his ankle back in the swamp and is refusing to say anything.”

Hyrule’s eyes snap to him, then to his perfectly-okay foot, then to Legend. He then shifts his weight the slightest amount and sighs, “It’s fine, really.”

As Legend storms over to him, starting off on one of his earfuls about hiding injuries, Sky remembers how much he loves Hyrule. He turns back to Jovan, “I believe we’ll be taking you up on that offer.”

“Great to hear it!”

“This is very weird.” Wild has stuck to Sky’s side since they got into town. It was surprising to him, as normally he’d be by Twilight or Time, but the two of them have made themselves cozy talking with the performers. Sky is positive Wild is uncomfortable with the crowd; he would be surprised Hyrule isn’t hanging around him either, but it seems like Four is his little area of quiet for the day while Legend is busy getting wrangled into a show.

“I like it, do you have no performers or entertainers in your time?” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Sky wishes he could bite his own tongue off. They’ve all seen Wild’s time, where the people were focused on survival and learning to live again. He doesn’t need the reminder of-

“Yeah, Kass goes around playing music everywhere. And the Greduo have a small troupe of actors, and everywhere has the occasional festival, but nothing like… like this.”

Oh. That’s good. It’s good he gets that type of joy in his world, despite everything. Sky isn’t going to ask Hyrule about his world, not today. Maybe he’ll get Legend to do it. The two of them have grown close in the time since this adventure started.

Sky gestures at the dancing sisters who are trying to get Legend to learn some movements for a performance, “Skyloft has many festivals and dances. It’s a little like home, to me, but it’s interesting to see how different everything is where they can travel and show people dances and music that have never been seen before. How is it weird?”

There is the shortest of hesitations on Wild’s part, and Sky recognizes the way he needs to work to remember his previous thoughts. The hero is about to respond when a red flash ducks behind the two of them, hissing, “go, walk away, let’s go!”

Wild glances down at Legend, who is trying to look inconspicuous, then over at the sisters and Parot, who has brought over what can only be a bizarre costume. They’re all glancing around in confusion. Sky senses more than sees Wild’s mouth open to call them over and slaps a hand over his mouth. He looks down at Legend. “It’s not like you to go back on a deal.”

“I never made the deal, you should be the one dancing!” Legends hands fist into both of their shirts and begins pulling them back, behind one of the wagons that’s against a cozy cobblestone alleyway. The others are setting up a small stage where the performance is going to be, and somehow no one notices their little group tucking away. Sky lets this happen, and keeps his hand on Wild’s mouth, pointedly ignoring when he licks his palm.

Sky raises his eyebrows at Legend once they’re sufficiently hidden, “I never made a deal.”

“You’re the one who told Jovan I’d do the performance!”

He hums and glances at the wagon that is hiding everyone from their view. He sighs, “well, I suppose if you really don’t want to, it did seem like Wind and Warriors were very intrigued by the performance, and I’m sure you could convince Jovan that an adorable kid and charming knight would draw a crowd.”

Wild finally gets a grip on his wrist and wrenches it away, “Time is already trying to get Jovan to have those two perform.”

Legends piercing eyes bore into Sky, who smiles. “Hm, I must have forgotten.”

“You’re rotten. Evil. The worst person to ever exist-“

“And you pushed me into the swamp water.”

This stops Legend short, whose eyes manage to lower into a deeper glare, “you know I was trying to push Warriors.”

Sky waves a hand lazily. “I just think you should always be prepared to deal with whatever collateral damage comes from your decision.”

Wild begins laughing, loud guffaws that’s only quiet down when Legend kicks at his shin. “Sky, you’re worse than Time!”

“I’m simply reminding Legend to be more careful.”

Legend steps away, “I hate you. All of you. You’re all evil.”

“Even Hyrule?” Wild asks, voice innocent as if that will make his point any better.

It doesn’t work, of course. Legend pushes into Wild’s space, all fiery rage that’s half-playful and half-embarrassment. “Hyrule is a little liar and I’m never trusting him again.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Wild mumbles right before Legend shoves him.

The resulting squeaking and fighting results in Twilight and Parot finding their hiding spot.

By the time Legend has collected himself, it’s fully revealed that they weren’t going to force Legend to perform at all, not when Wind and Warriors were so willing to take his place. Sky is fairly certain they wouldn’t have forced anyone to perform, but Jovan did seem set on it, so Hylia knows.

During the show, Four had gotten wind of an excess of monsters a town over. When they told Jovan that night where they were headed, he offered them another ride, as he was bringing his group there next and didn’t mind heading out a little early.

Now, Sky rests at the back of one of the wagons, listening as Rom and Maple tell him about their performances. He had been walking, but Time took one look at him as he began wheezing and ordered him to sit, and Hyrule happily hopped off to make room.

He felt bad, but the ease in his chest the longer he sat got rid of some of that guilt. Wild and Legend were also in the wagon, sitting a bit further away and napping amidst the clutter of supplies.

It’s peaceful on the road, in a way he’s not used to anymore. Before his adventure he would ride along his loftwing to visit some of the further out islands, but even that required a decent amount of focus. After his journey, he and Zelda have been busy working towards getting more people to the surface. And now, he’s saving the world again.

Sitting and listening to people tease one of his friends is a nice way to travel.

Or, it is until Legend grumbles his way over, denying one of Maple’s claims about his journey.

Sky very quickly tuned it out. It’s clearly an old argument, one he has no desire to join. Instead, he makes room for Legend to sit by his old friend by scooting back to Wild, who is dead to the world asleep.

Sky lays down next to him, and lets the sounds of arguments and teasing wash over him.

#linked universe #lu sky #lu legend #lu wild #lu #my fics

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thundered-down-the-line · 1 year ago

Text

On Specific Engines: The Steam Team

(In which I talk a lot about minute details only I would give a shit about)

Many of these design choices are inspired by either bruhstation or ngng-tttelog! Check them out!

Thomas:

Short and stocky as a result of his side tanks (which take up space mostly on his shoulders and thighs! That's the general area for side tanks like him.)

He's actually even shorter than his model would have him be, which also means his tanks are a lot smaller than you would expect. He has to stop for water a lot as a result, but with his smaller size with no drop in power, he's very, very good at rapidly changing direction, which makes him GREAT at shunting! (And great at running into and subsequently running out of dumb situations before he gets himself hurt)

His hair is about neck-length and flares out just a little. You'd be hard-pressed to find him without his hat, but underneath he has a huge cowlick he has NEVER managed to get rid of. Not without trying, mind you. It's one of the reasons he insists on wearing the hat so often.

His coat isn't very long at all, and he frequently rolls up the sleeves on it. It's practically a hoodie. His pockets are almost certainly full of shiny rocks.

He has a tie like his coworkers. He will NEVER wear it properly. You know the rambo way of tying a tie around your head? He does it around his neck, at least. (His secret is that he doesn't actually know how to tie it himself.)

Overalls. Send tweet.

His number is in the middle of his chest.

Edward:

Shortest of the tender engines, and has the smallest tender as a result.

Thinner than you might think but simultaneously stronger than you'd expect from his shape.

His coat usually looks like a sweater. His tie is always tied perfectly. This does not mean he always ties it Normally.

Old Man Glasses Chain. He is Fucking Blind when they fall off but he's so good at telling the other engines apart just from their voices and general vibe and knows the rail lines so well that you'd be hard pressed to tell without interacting with him for a while.

Longer hair that's completely gray tied in a short ponytail.

Sudrian uniform standard is Blue with Red Accents and one of the ways Edward deals with this is that he has bright red "sneakers" (in that the feet of the engines are specially designed with their wheels but, you know. It's About Vibes).

No one really knows what his model is. A few people think he's some kind of modified K2 but he's so old and had so many parts swapped out and repaired and modified that genuinely no one can tell. He also won't tell you. It's a bit now and he's committed.

Henry:

Henry's list is about to be so much longer because of his two separate designs so here we go lmao

In his first iteration, he looked almost EXACTLY like Gordon, down to the lining on his coat and the height of his "boots" and he even kept his hair trimmed short. But there were a few key differences.

First: He was ever so slightly taller than Gordon, but you wouldn't be able to tell unless you stood the pair back-to-back and measured precisely, especially because Henry tended to hunch which made him look ever so slightly shorter.

Second: He didn't fill the coat out like Gordon did. Essentially the measurements of the uniform were made for an A1, and were made to be filled out by an A1 because they were big, and anything baggy or creased wouldn't look near as good. Henry, meanwhile, was not made to the same measurements, and thus if you looked closely at him you could see wrinkles in the shoulders or elbows or how the pants would sway more when he moved.

Third is a simple one, his hair is light brown! However since he (and Gordon) kept it cut so short it couldn't be guaranteed you could even spot that difference at a glance.

Once Henry got his blue coat it made telling Henry and Gordon apart even worse, and eventually Henry himself decided he wanted to swap back to green.

His small firebox manifests in this au as him seemingly struggling to be able to breathe. (Can't oxygenate heat up his blood water!)

Of course here we get to the crash of the Kipper and his rebuild. I'll probably make a separate post about the damages from the Kipper because I have a specific mental image of how that crash played out but for this post all it means is Rebuild Time!

After his rebuild Henry is now legitimately ever so slightly shorter than Gordon's height. It's still impossible to tell at a glance, though.

His uniform is still ever so slightly loose on his body, but it's clearly intentional now! (He doesn't like feeling constricted). He also tends to have his collar popped, as a bit of a style choice.

He's let his hair grow out! It's not super long but it's surprisingly fluffy.

You can also frequently find him with a flower or two pinned to him somewhere.

Gordon:

My man. Big boy. Largest engine on the island, he's tall and wide and you will notice him.

Very Insistent about keeping his uniform pristine and presentable.

Has a very specific tic where, when he's upset and lets off steam, he'll huff a small cloud out of his nose or mouth instead of his vents. Over time, Henry and James and even Thomas have picked up this tic. The newer engines have no idea that was originally Him, and even the older ones sometimes forget.

His overcoat does no wonders for making him less intimidating. My god does he look huge. However he doesn't actually insist on wearing it All The Fucking Time anymore.

Originally, as a prototype, he wore it Constantly because he insisted he had an image to maintain.

Nowadays his reputation precedes him enough that he can go without it sometimes. It's just as good, with how often people fuck around on the main line being able to swing his body out of the way or come to a stop much easier is pretty good.

Then again, the visible suspenders also make him look a lil goofy. This is why he doesn't really go out of his way to Not wear it.

Also speaking of coming to a stop! Gordon has a completely custom brake system! It's an absolutely super-charged monstrosity that even has its own emergency setting where it will jam an anchor in his heel directly into the ground to force him to a standstill. Coming to a sudden stop from speed sucks but it doesn't suck worse than running over some idiot who decided it would be a good idea to stand in front of the largest and fastest train on the island currently going full speed.

He has a hidden compartment inside his wrist. All it has in it is a little flat star welded together out of scrap metal. He isn't showing it to Anyone.

James:

The first thing you'd think of when looking at how James has dressed himself up is "damn. compensating much?" You would be correct.

This fucker is dressed in Bright Red with Black Lining and Gold Embroidery and he looks like a fucking medieval noble were it not for all the iron.

He has heels. Of course he does. It's actually a makeshift brake system/they're meant to dig into the ground (similar to Gordon's anchor system). Originally they were of course made of wood and we all know how that went.

(His black coat was NOWHERE near as extravagant. It was pretty generic, actually. He even had ratty overalls.)

Also has a short ponytail like Edward! But his hair is just a little longer and fluffier and if you didn't know he was an engine and the hair was fake you'd think he'd have an hour long shampoo+conditioner routine. Complete with gold hair tie.

His number is on his tender like the other tender engines but you could Swear it's more stylized than the others...

Would Rather Fucking Die than be seen without Any part of his uniform.

Would Rather Fucking Die than be seen with his uniform dirty.

Just don't fuck with his uniform, actually. (Said while living on Get Fucked Island)

Taller than Edward but still shorter than many other tender engines.

Percy:

Chubby! As a saddle tank engine his design wraps around his "stomach" and makes him look distinctly Roumd.

Kinda like Edward his original build is actually a bit of a mystery. He's clearly an Avonside, but as for what specific era or where he came from no one can really tell.

(He doesn't seem to remember, either...)

Curly hair! When he takes off his cap it distinctly poofs up.

Despite being a tank engine he's often seen with a large cargo bag on his back. It's an extra way to carry mail!

He's got overalls like Thomas, but his are brown instead of blue

He also doesn't know how to tie his tie but he very clearly Tries His Best every morning. It's endearing.

Number is on his shoulder!

Toby:

Y'all already know this man is shaped like a brick (affectionate)

Wears an old flat cap instead of a standard uniform hat.

Skirt! His cowcatchers are a long, black skirt that runs almost down to the ground, barely leaving his feet visible.

Grey hair cut completely straight just at the top of his neck

Also has glasses, but they're not quite as required as Edward's are. They're basically just reading glasses.

Parts of him are very clearly made out of wood, gives him a rustic look. He tends to play into it.

Because he's made of wood he genuinely just can't do many snappy movements.

Square pupils! This one is really hard to notice.

Original tie was black, now he wears a blue one.

Number is on his back!

#unnamed ttte au #ttte thomas #ttte edward #ttte henry #ttte gordon #ttte james #ttte percy #ttte toby

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