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jungshookz · 4 years ago

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smitten: y/n's note is in jungkook's bag and she needs to get it back like, right now

➺ pairing; jeon jungkook x reader

➺ genre; smitten!miniseries!! bff!kook & smitten!y/n!! university!au!! honk honk humour!! the boo hoo angsty wattpad-energy fic of your dreams!! unrequited love!! it hurts so bad but that's what makes it so good!!

➺ wordcount; 7.1k

➺ summary; y/n realizes her meticulously written i love you note is burning a hole at the bottom of jungkook's bag and the mere thought of him finding it is enough to make her feel sick to her stomach.

➺ what to expect; "well, maybe the reason why you're just friends is because the two of you won't allow yourselves to be more than that."

➺ smitten: part one [the almost confession]

»»————- 🖤 ————-««

[previously, on smitten...]

what?

where the hell is it?

you reach into the side pockets and you're disappointed when you end up pulling out old tissues and empty gum wrappers

it's not in the front pocket either — just your keys, a pack of bubblegum, and a small bottle of hand sanitizer

your brows knit together in deep thought as you settle back against your seat, your eyes flickering to the side as you-

you immediately pale

oh my god.

you're positive that your heart stops beating for three whole seconds the moment you realize where exactly the note is — because no, you idiot, you didn't shove it into your own bag earlier-

the note is in jungkook's bag.

»»————- 🖤 ————-««

the next thirty or so minutes of class seem to drag on at a snail's pace and you find yourself checking the time on your phone every five seconds to see when you can finally dart out those doors

your first instinct was to immediately get up and leave because of course you wanted to immediately get up and leave, but with only twenty-ish people in the class and the fact that you're seated near the front... well, it would be a little awkward to just pack up your things and trek up towards the doors without a legitimate excuse (you were tempted to tell your professor that your stomach wasn't feeling very good but the thought of your peers associating you with explosive diarrhea quickly changed your mind)

so, you decided to be a good student and wait it out — but, being perfectly honest, you haven't really been paying much attention to the professor since the thought of you shoving your hi bestie, i'm head-over-heels in love with you note into jungkook's bag instead of yours contaminated your mind five minutes ago

...

you let out a little huff before shaking your head to yourself

how could you be so careless?!

you don't even know how it happened

your bag was sitting on your right thigh, jungkook's bag was sitting on your left thigh... so how the hell did you manage to shove it into his bag??

on the bright side, at least you know where it is, right?

it's in the right side pocket of the bag, so all you have to do is unzip it and stick your hand in and out really quickly without jungkook noticing you rummaging around in his belongings

...but what if he's already read the note?

your foot taps impatiently against the carpeted ground and you reach up and start tugging at your earlobe anxiously, your eyes flickering up towards the dusty analog clock hanging on the wall

c'mon... c'mon...

your grip tightens around your pencil as you continue to trace circles aimlessly on the page, the paper crinkling slightly from the amount of pressure you're putting on it

the stress that's currently eating away at you is probably going to take ten years off your life

"-so, that's pretty much it from me for the day!"

you don't think you've ever been so happy for a class to end as soon as the screen goes black at the front and you waste absolutely no time in packing up

you probably look insane trying to shove your laptop and your notebook into your bag at the same time but you couldn't care less at this point because you need to get the hell out of here

"-please remember to contribute to the discussion threads online... at least four responses, please, and none of those bullshit 'yes, i agree!' responses. i'm definitely not going to count those as participation marks-"

you close your bag with a sharp ziiiip! and you hurry to fold the squeaky desk back into place, a couple of people turning to glance at you for the sudden abundance of clattering and knocking coming from your direction

"excuse me, pardon me-" you pull your backpack on as you step over multiple sets of legs, trying your best not to trample on any feet or knock anyone's tooth out with your bag, "sorry! excuse me-"

you can feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins as you jog up the steps two at a time, your brain immediately mapping out the route to the library jungkook said he'd be at

best case scenario: he hasn't found the note and your friendship with him is still very much in tact

worst case scenario: he found the note and is currently reading it at this point in time and your friendship with him is starting to crumble but you still have a chance to swoop in and pick up the pieces

the absolutely worst case ever in the entire world scenario: he's found the note, he's read the note, he's processed the note, and your friendship with him has been completely annihilated and now he's planning to change his name and leave the country so that he doesn't have to confront you about it

you use your shoulder to shove the doors open before bursting out into the open air, ignoring the concerned glances you're starting to receive from your obviously frazzled state

"oh god, oh god, oh god-!" your backpack flops wildly against your back as you rush down the narrow brick steps leading towards the main boulevard

realistically, jungkook's probably found and read the note, so all you have to do is come up with a short monologue about how all of it was fake and that the note was just a sick, twisted prank of some kind

i know that the note makes it seem like i'm telling you that i'm in love with you, but that's not the truth at all!

"woah, watch it-!"

you accidentally knock into someone's shoulder while sprinting down the lane and you turn around for a second just to hold a hand out while flashing the stranger a sheepish smile

"sorry! so sorry-" you turn back around, reaching up to keep your glasses secured on the top of your head as you continue to sprint, your sneakers slapping down against the pavement

as you read in the note, i made a point about how since we're friends, we should be honest with each other... and honestly, there are nothing but lies in the note! and there's a lesson in that, you know? words can be full of lies but we, as human beings, should be full of truths-

"nope, hate that-" you shake your head and immediately scrunch up that mental piece of paper before tossing it into your brain's garbage bin

you'd sound like an obnoxious philosophy student if you hit him with that explanation

it was a prank! i want to start a prank war with you and this is how i'm kicking things off!

that... that could work, right?

that's not bad!

just tell him that you wanted to start a prank war with him so you decided to go big or go home with an i love you, best friend note to see how he would react!

"so stupid-" you mutter to yourself, slowing down to a jog as you approach the doors to the library, "so, so stupid-"

the Super Epic Prank War ROFL XD™ explanation isn't the greatest excuse but it's the best you can do on such short notice

thankfully, it doesn't take you very long to track down jungkook considering the fact he always sits in the same area every time the two of you come here

your feet come to a screeching halt the moment you spot him and you quickly step to the side to hide behind the wall

you slowly lean over a little to peek at him

he has his headphones on and he's busy typing away at his laptop and you can tell he's concentrating really hard because he has that cute frown on his face and occasionally he'll mutter something to himself

jungkook in intense focus mode is something you find to be very endearing :-)

...

you quickly shake your head to snap yourself out of your daze before focusing on jungkook's face again

he certainly doesn't look like he just read an explosive love letter...

you could still be safe!

...for now, that is.

"okay, y/n-" you stand up straight and let out a breath, giving yourself a mental pat on the head in an effort to calm your nerves, "better sooner than later, right? just- you just have to rip it off like a bandaid-"

your anxiety seems to build with every step that brings you closer to jungkook and you can almost hear the jaws theme song playing all around you

da-dum

jungkook, i swear i have a perfectly logical explanation for this...

da-dum

i know the note does a very convincing job of making it seem like i'm in love with you, but that couldn't be farther from the truth!

da-dum, da-dum

consider this your initiation into our very serious prank war, my friend!

dadumdadumdumdumbdumbdumbthisissuchadumbdumbidea-

"hi!" you greet a little too enthusiastically, trying your best not to make it seem like you just sprinted across campus to get to him even though you very clearly did

"sorry, seat's reserv- y/n?" jungkook looks up from his laptop before frowning, quickly glancing back down at his screen to check the time as he pulls his headphones off to hang around his neck, "aren't you- didn't your class end, like, literally a minute ago? why are you so- did you run here??" he asks incredulously, getting up from his seat as his brows knit together in concern

"no, no! of course i didn't run here, silly- oh, god, give me a sec-" you wheeze, bending down and gripping onto the back of the wooden chair in front of you as you try to catch your breath, your chest still falling and rising at a concerning pace from the physical stress of sprinting and the mental stress of the current situation, "it was more of a- of a brisk walk, if you think about it- jesus, i think i'm gonna throw up-"

"okay, you need to drink some water- come and sit next to me-" jungkook reaches out to help lead you around the table towards him, "god, i don't know why you thought you had to run over, it's not like i was planning on going anywhere-"

"i'm fine, kook, it's fine-"

"you're, like, literally radiating heat," jungkook turns you around and pulls your bag off your back before pulling out a chair and helping you into it, "and your face is all red!" he frowns, setting your bag down on the table and unzipping it to pull out your water bottle

"my face is always this red!" you force out a casual laugh, waving your hand to dismiss him as you lean back against the seat, "i'm fine, it's fine-"

"shut up and take a sip-" jungkook untwists the cap of your water bottle before shoving it into your hands and gently lifting it up towards your mouth, his head tilting up a little so he can check and see if you're actually drinking anything, "c'mon, hydrate yourself-"

you swallow a couple gulps of water before pulling the bottle away and reaching up to wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, "god, i love water-"

"yeah, i bet." jungkook chuckles, visibly more relieved now that he knows you won't be passing out from exhaustion anytime soon

as you put your water bottle away, your eyes lower towards jungkook's backpack slouching against the leg of his chair and almost immediately the anxiety that you thought you'd just swallowed down bubbles right back up

"so, are you going to tell me why you're acting like the cops are after you?" jungkook jokes, taking his seat before pulling his headphones off and setting them down next to his laptop

"i just, um-" you press your lips together as you slowly start to lean down, stretching your arm out towards the pocket, "i just wanted to see you, buddy!"

"i don't believe that for a second." jungkook snorts, turning to look at you

you shoot straight back up and pull your arm up and behind your head as if you're in the middle of a good stretch, "hey, what's with that tone? it's not a crime for me to want to see you-"

"you saw me at lunch! and that was only like an hour and a half ago-" jungkook turns his head to look back at his screen and you quickly revert back to your mission impossible secret agent mode

the forced smile drops from your face and you lean back down, your fingers blindly feeling for the cool metal of the zipper

"you know, you actually came at just the right time-" jungkook speaks up again and you pause just in case you need to pull away from his bag, but he makes no move to turn and look at you, "ji-eun was about to leave for her class but now you can meet her before she goes off!"

"uh-huh..." your tongue pokes out in concentration as you unzip the pocket in one swift movement, immediately sticking your hand in and feeling around for the balled-up piece of paper, "sounds gre-"

hold on, what did he just say?

you shoot back up

"did you just-" you choke and reach up to pat your chest gently, "i'm sorry, did you just say that ji-eun was here?"

"uh-huh!" jungkook nods, "i didn't know she had a spare at the same time as i did so i was surprised when she came over to say hi- it turns out our schedules are, like, sort of similar which oddly makes me kind of happy-"

it's at that moment that you notice the cherry-patterned tote bag slumped in the chair sitting across from you and you let out a nervous chuckle as you shift in your seat, "great! great, that's so- great, it's great that i'm meeting ji-eun today, out of all days..." you trail off, glancing around warily as you try to come up with some kind of an exit strategy

you're just really not in the mood to meet the love of jungkook's life today

you've already been hit with so many blows and it's only two in the afternoon-

"sorry that took so long! i couldn't find a bin but i bumped into my friends and they said they'd throw it out for me-"

oh, you have got to be kidding me.

your eyes widen in mild panic upon immediately recognizing ji-eun to be the girl who had overheard your entire monologue in the bathroom earlier today — and from the way her eyes flicker, it seems as though she remembers exactly who you are as well

"oh, no worries!" jungkook beams at ji-eun before pointing to you with his thumb, "this is my friend, by the way. the one i was talking about earlier! y/n, this is ji-eun."

you stay quiet as you continue staring up at ji-eun, your mind racing a mile a minute as you consider your current options

you can pretend like you've never met her before or you can make things awkward by telling jungkook that you met her today after she'd emptied her bladder

"...y/n?" jungkook lowers his voice, nudging you with his elbow before letting out a nervous chuckle, "please say something."

"i- yes, hello!" you blurt out, the feet of your chair scraping against the rough carpet as you get up from your seat to stick your hand out towards ji-eun, "it's- ah- it's- it's so nice to meet you! i'm y/n."

ji-eun stays quiet for a second before her lips turn up in a polite smile and she reaches towards you, gently taking your outstretched hand in hers (for the record, her hands are shockingly soft and supple), "it's lovely to meet you... as well, y/n. i love your glasses!"

you can't help but notice the immediate warmth that seems to surround ji-eun and suddenly it makes a lot more sense as to why jungkook's attracted to her

you're about as comforting as stepping into a puddle of water while wearing socks

you feel a slight sense of relief seeing that ji-eun is playing along but your new concern is whether or not she's connected the dots that your monologue in the bathroom was dedicated to jungkook

you didn't actually say his name when you were talking out loud, so you might be able to get away with this...

"oh, these old things?" you reach up to feel the glasses sitting on top of your head before flicking your hand at her, "i bought them on amazon. they're blue-light glasses- i can totally send you the link if you want."

"that would actually be great!" she gasps, nodding enthusiastically, "i desperately need a pair of blue-light glasses- seriously, i stared at my laptop screen for, like, ten hours straight today and i really feel like they're about to roll out of my head-"

"oh my god, don't even get me started. at this point it'd probably feel better to rip them right out of their sockets-"

"ji-eun, you ready?"

"let's gooo, i wanna get an iced coffee before we head off to class."

you and ji-eun don't get a chance to continue bonding over the pain of sore eyes when you're suddenly interrupted by two new voices

you look up to see two guys approaching the table and you subtly push your seat back a bit as you prepare yourself to say hello again

"oh! yeah, i'm ready, sorry-" ji-eun gestures towards you with a smile, "this is- this is jungkook's friend, by the way. y/n, these are my friends."

"hi, hello-" you get up from your seat again to stick your hand out, offering the two (very handsome, might you add) strangers a friendly smile, "i'm y/n, jungkook's friend- but you- you already knew that because that's what ji-eun just said-"

"i'm taehyung! you can call me tae-" the corners of taehyung's mouth immediately raise in a bright grin and he gives your hand a firm shake before nodding next to him, "and this is jimin!"

"hi..." you trail off, turning to give jimin a handshake as well, "so nice to meet you!"

"oh, i just- i actually just washed my hands, so-" jimin chuckles, looking down at your hand before taking a small step back, "but it's nice to meet you... jungkook's friend."

ooh

is it just you or did it suddenly get a little icy in here?

"oh, no problem! um, yeah, you too." you pull your hand back before swallowing nervously and forcing the polite smile back on your face, "i like your jacket, by the way! it looks really cool."

maybe it's because he's wearing giant sunglasses indoors but you can't help but feel slightly intimidated by jimin

you can't see his eyes but you can certainly feel them on you and you're definitely getting the vibe that jimin is already not the biggest fan of you for some weird reason

"thank you." he responds curtly, smoothing a hand over the leather before looking down at ji-eun, "so can we go now?"

"mhm!" ji-eun gets up from her chair before pushing it back into place, pulling her tote back up onto her shoulder before flashing a sweet smile at jungkook, "see you later, alligator."

"in a while, crocodile!" jungkook responds enthusiastically, watching with twinkly eyes as she turns and heads off towards the exit with jimin and taehyung glued at either side of her

god

she even walks prettily

and you were literally clomping down the boulevard like a feral caveman a second ago

you wait until they've disappeared to turn and face jungkook with a raised eyebrow, "...jimin was kind of a bitch."

"hey, play nice!" jungkook frowns, reaching over to give your arm a gentle whack, "he's a fashion major! ji-eun says being snooty is part of the degree requirements-" he grins, shaking his head slightly before leaning back against his chair, "she's, like, super funny."

"mm." you hum, still feeling a little uneasy about your interaction with jimin

you just hate it when first meetings don't go well and that first meeting definitely wasn't super great

but it wasn't like you did anything wrong, right?

you were great!

snooty jimin was the one who was being rude

whatever

hopefully you won't have to hang out with him too often if jungkook and ji-eun become an item

maybe you can just stick with taehyung!

he seems to be a lot friendlier

"oh, by the way, i-" you're suddenly reminded of your main mission and you turn to point down at jungkook's bag, "it's not a big deal, but i- i accidentally shoved something in your bag earlier and- could i just get it back from you?"

"you did?" jungkook frowns, leaning down to pick his bag up before unzipping it all the way and pulling both flaps open, "what was it?"

"it was- uh- just some notes on a scrap piece of paper!" you immediately feel the weight lift from your shoulders at jungkook's cluelessness to the situation, "i put it in the right side pocket-"

"wait, are you talking about, like, a balled up thing of paper?" jungkook pauses before looking up at you with wide eyes, "oh, shit- was it important??"

"um, i wouldn't call it important-" you snort, shaking your head, "is it not there? i swore it was in the right side pocket-"

"no, no, it was there! it was there, i just- ji-eun needed to spit her gum out and i thought it was one of my scrap pieces of paper-" jungkook winces, grabbing his phone and unlocking it with fumbling fingers, "i'm so sorry, y/n- let me text ji-eun and ask her which garbage can she threw it into and i can go dig it out-"

"no, no, it's okay!" you nearly let out a screech of delight knowing that your note now has a slobbery wad of gum in it and is living at the bottom of a trash can, "it's fine, i just- they were just boring notes for something. i just wanted to see if i had really shoved it into your bag or not."

"oh, okay-" jungkook's shoulders immediately slump and he sets his phone down on the table, "you're sure it wasn't important?"

"100%." you hold both hands out with a chuckle, "i needed to throw it out anyway so i guess ji-eun actually did me a favour-"

"okay, phew." jungkook sighs, zipping his bag back up and plopping it back down on the ground next to his feet, "anyways- i'm actually glad you're here because now you can help me plan out my date! i was working on it but then ji-eun came and obviously i couldn't have that google doc open in front of her-" he turns his laptop to show you all of his hard work with a grin, "check it out! i have a list of things i need to buy, i have outfit ideas, i even went on pinterest for inspiration-"

"wow, kook-" your eyes bulge out for a second at the sight of the extensive and shockingly organized google doc before you reach over to pull his laptop closer towards you, "i... i really don't think i've ever seen you... even make a google doc before-"

he even has the sunset time written down for the date

why would he need to know what time the sun is setting??

"i have everything planned for next week." jungkook pulls his laptop back to him as you settle back against your seat, "i already emailed my landlord to ask if i would even be allowed to hang out on the rooftop and he said it would be fine! he also reminded me to keep a brick wedged between the door so that i don't lock us up on the rooftop-"

"so you're definitely going with the rooftop picnic, then?"

"oh, i'm actually changing it to a rooftop dinner instead of a picnic." jungkook shakes his head before giving you a half-hearted shrug, "i think a picnic is cute but i really wanna try to impress her, y'know? i ordered this thing on amazon just now- basically, it's a medium-sized inflatable bubble tent! the description says it's perfect for two people and- i'm gonna, like-" he pauses and looks away from his screen towards you with a smile, "well, you know, i'm gonna do what you said and i'm gonna stuff it full of blankets and pillows and... hopefully i can string up fairy lights and stuff on the inside... so that after the date we can go in there and just talk and not have to worry about getting attacked by mosquitos!"

"wow, that's-" you cross your arms over your chest before leaning back and looking up towards the ceiling, "huh. that's actually a cute idea, kook. i wouldn't have been able to come up with something like that. i didn't even know transparent tents existed."

"i know." jungkook gives you a smug little smile before bursting into a grin, "but yeah, that's it! all we have to do is go and pick up all the supplies and stuff."

"we?" you frown, looking back down at jungkook, "i... wasn't aware i was part of this plan..."

"what? of course you are!" jungkook snorts, looking at you as if a third eye just sprouted from your forehead, "obviously you have to help me-"

"well, i just don't know if that's-" you chuckle uneasily as you rub the back of your neck, "i really- i don't wanna get in your way, you know? maybe you should- maybe you should just take care of all of this yourself! i mean, you basically planned everything already-"

"what? but- but you're my-" jungkook deflates and you instantly feel bad upon seeing his eyes suddenly turn sad, "okay..."

you press your lips together and wait for him to say something else but the next few seconds are filled with nothing but awkward silence and the faint buzzing of the fluorescent lights hanging above you

you'd jump off a cliff if jungkook asked you to but helping him prepare and set up his date is something that you,.., definitely would not enjoy.,.,

but then again, this isn't about you, is it?

this is about jungkook, your friend, and he needs your help to set up this very important date that-

oh, damnit.

"i'm-" you clear your throat as you sit up in your seat, reaching over to give jungkook's hand a pat, "no, of course i'll help, kook. i just thought that- well, this date seems so important to you that i thought you wanted to take care of all the details yourself!"

the bright smile immediately returns to jungkook's face and you resist the urge to call him out on so blatantly guilt-tripping you like that-

"yes! you're the best!"

"i know."

»»————- 🖤 ————-««

although you and jungkook are practically inseparable on campus (and some would say it might be healthy for the two of you to give each other a little bit of space) — you don't think you'll ever say no to hanging out with him downtown

of course, hanging out with jungkook downtown would be a lot more fun if it weren't for the fact that the two of you have basically spent the entire day shopping for all the things he needs for his date

and if it weren't for the fact that he paid for lunch and treated you to a cake pop and a venti-sized iced coffee, you would probably be livid about having to carry everything for him because you really feel like your arms are about to pop right off in about two seconds

fancy cutlery, porcelain plates, fluffy throw pillows, a giant blanket, fairy lights... at this point he might as well buy an entire house for ji-eun

and look, you know you probably sound bitter and that-should-be-me about this whole situation, but that couldn't be farther from the truth!

it's just that listening to someone you like gushing about the person that they like for an entire day while you're carrying bags full of things for their date can get a little mentally and physically exhausting so if you're grouchy right now it's really not your fault

"i think we might have to call an uber back to your place, jungkook-" you mutter, adjusting the hefty tote bag over your shoulder with a grunt as you trail behind him on the sidewalk, "bringing all of this on the bus is going to piss people off-"

you stumble over your feet a little when the bag in your right hand knocks into a garbage can and you curse to yourself while resisting the urge to kick the damn thing over

"okay, grumpy, we'll call an uber home-" jungkook spins around with a smile before raising the notepad in his hand and tapping against it with his pen, "i just have one more thing i have to take care of and then we can go!"

"okay, well-" you set the bags down onto the ground with a fwump! before rubbing your sore palms together, "what else do you have to get?"

jungkook offered to help carry a couple of things but you insisted that you'd take it all and that he should just focus on ticking off all of the items on his list

you wince at the sight of the pinkish-red imprints now embedded into your palms from the straps of the bags

obviously you've now come to regret your generous offer

"flowers!" jungkook chirps, using his pen to point to the flower shop a couple of shops down, "i have to greet ji-eun with a bouquet of flowers as pretty as she is-"

"yeah, i understand-" you adjust the two bags on both shoulders before bending down to pick up the other two on the ground, "also, i'm not a genius or anything but i'm pretty sure the flowers aren't going to survive until the date if you buy them now-"

"duh, obviously not- i'm going to place an order now and then pick them up on the day of the date!" jungkook tsks, waiting for you to join his side before he begins walking towards the flower shop, "thanks for doing all of this for me, by the way. you really are the best." he hums, hurrying over to open the door for you

"i... yeah, of course, kook." you feel yourself soften slightly as soon as you see the sweet little smile on his face and you quickly scold yourself in your head for being so curt with him all day, "that's what friends are for, right?"

"mhm!" jungkook slaps his hands down on your shoulders from behind before giving them a squeeze, "and i am so letting you choose whatever you want for dinner tonight-"

"hello!"

"oh, jesus-" you and jungkook are immediately greeted by an overenthusiastic employee as soon as you step into the shop and you honestly probably would've knocked him out with one of your shopping bags if they weren't so heavy-

"are you two looking for anything in particular?" he smiles kindly before gesturing towards the large selection of flowers all around you, "we have flowers of all kinds! roses, tulips, lilies- i can even show you flowers from our new tropical selection-"

"actually-" jungkook nudges you aside before glancing down at the employee's nametag, "seokjin, i'd like to place an order for a custom bouquet, if that's okay."

"ah, a custom bouquet!" seokjin claps his hands and rubs them together enticingly, "what are you celebrating? i need to know so that i can help pick out the perfect flowers for your bouquet."

"well, i don't know if it's a celebration-" jungkook chuckles, his cheeks pinking slightly as he reaches up to rub the back of his neck, "it's for a first date."

"a first date!!" seokjin gasps excitedly before turning his head to look at you, "you must be so-"

"-oh, not for me!" you let out a laugh before shaking your head quickly, "it's- it's definitely not for me. i'm just here to provide moral support and-" you lift one of the bags to show him, "muscular support."

"ah, i see... okay, well- why don't i take you around and introduce you to the different candidates you could consider for your bouquet?" seokjin turns back to look at jungkook, "each flower you choose will be very important in showing your future lover how much you care about them-" he pauses when he notices you hovering behind jungkook and he leans over a little with a bright smile, "why don't you go and wait by the front counter, darling? you can put everything down there and take a little break. there's some cucumber water and fresh puff pastry apple roses up at the front if you're interested!"

"well, i can't say no to free food." you snort, nodding before turning to head towards the front counter, "i'll just wait for you over there, then..."

you nearly let out a moan of relief as soon as you set all the bags down and you twist your upper body to the right and to the left until you feel the a satisfying pop! of your spine cracking back in place

your body was not made to carry heavy things

in fact, you'd like to argue that your body was made to lie down and do nothing

you take a seat on the wooden stool before turning to look at the apple roses sitting prettily in the display case and you almost feel like you shouldn't touch them even though seokjin offered them to you

even the pitcher of cucumber water looks too nice to touch

this place is awfully fancy

you didn't even know flower shops could be this fancy

you prop both elbows up on the counter before leaning back comfortably, your eyes lazily scanning around the store

"$15 for a single rose?" you gawk at the little wooden sign poking out from a large bouquet of neatly wrapped long-stem roses before making a face, "god."

you can't even imagine how much a custom bouquet is going to cost if a single rose is fifteen bucks

"-also write a note for you and attach it to the bouquet, if you're interested in that. it'll be an additional five dollars, but we handwrite it on the highest quality card stock with the most beautiful calligraphy and we even spray it with perfume-"

you perk up when you hear seokjin's voice and you look to see him and jungkook coming over to you

you have to admit that seokjin is great at his job because he's doing a good job at milking every dollar out of jungkook-

"yeah, that would be great!" jungkook nods enthusiastically, pulling his backpack off before unzipping it to grab his wallet, "i think a small note might be cute-"

"oh, that reminds me!" seokjin stops in his tracks right as he's about to lift the wooden slab to get behind the counter, "would you be interested in purchasing a teddy bear as well? if you add a teddy bear to your order, i'll give you a slight discount on the flowers."

"ooh, a discount!" jungkook gasps and you turn your head slightly so seokjin won't see you rolling your eyes at how much he's forcing jungkook to buy

you respect the hustle but this is too much

"where are the teddy bears?"

"right by the flowers!" seokjin smiles, wrapping an arm around jungkook's shoulders and spinning him around, "we can round back and take a look-"

"okay, i think i have to cut in here-" you chuckle, reaching out and grabbing the back of jungkook's elbow, "you don't- you don't think a bouquet of flowers and a teddy bear is a little too much for a first date?" you clear your throat quietly before offering a shrug, "i feel like that's just... a lot, kook. i mean, i would be overwhelmed if-"

"well, i guess it's a good thing i'm not taking you out on a date then, right?" jungkook teases, wiggling his arm out of your grip before turning back to look at seokjin, "onward to the bears, my good man!"

ouch

"yeah." you can't help but frown as jungkook and seokjin head back towards the flowers, "thanks for the reminder."

"that's gotta hurt."

"god-" you jump at the sudden appearance of an employee standing behind the counter and you place a hand over your chest before letting out a breath, "you scared me!"

"sorry." he shrugs, "we polished the floors this morning so my shoes are making, like, no noise."

"oh."

a moment of silence passes while you turn to face away from him again, but all of a sudden-

"so he really can't tell that you like him, huh?"

"you-" you immediately straighten up and your head spins around so fast that you're surprised you didn't complete decapitate yourself, "excuse me??"

"what? it's obvious." the employee snorts, spraying cleaner onto the counter before reaching up to yank the tattered rag off his shoulder, "it's painfully obvious, actually-"

you can feel your entire face starting to go red as this complete stranger continues to rip you a new one and you hold a hand out to shut him up, "no offense, but i-i don't think this is any of your business, sir-"

"it's yoongi." yoongi looks down at his apron for a second before frowning, "huh. i forgot to put my dumb name tag on again-"

"well, yoongi-" you place emphasis on his name in an effort to intimidate him and make him go away, "you don't know what you're talking about and i suggest you mind your own business-"

"you should tell him before it's too late." yoongi doesn't seem to be all that affected by your biting tone and you roll your eyes at the way he rounds back to the topic

"what are you even talking about?"

"well, i assume you're going to be his best man at his wedding. from the way it's looking, you're certainly not going to be the bride," yoongi purses his lips as he folds up the rag into a neat little square, "you don't wanna wait until you're fixing his tie at the wedding to tell him that you love him."

"what makes you think i lo-" you cut yourself off quickly before that word slips out of your mouth, "like him?"

"if you didn't, you wouldn't be here right now." yoongi points out with a tilt of his head, "and from how smudgy your eyeliner is, it looks like you've been working hard all day."

your jaw drops slightly and you can't help but scoff

the nerve of this guy!

"who do you think you are?!"

"i'm yoongi." yoongi raises a brow, "i told you that like a second ago- wow, you are not a good listener-"

"do you usually do this with all of the customers who come here?" you interrupt, crossing your arms defensively before leaning in slightly, "you're awfully nosy-"

"i only do this with the ones that seem to have something juicy going on." yoongi hums, leaning down to put the spray bottle of cleaner under the counter, "this is a flower shop. the most exciting part of my day is watching a bumblebee choose which flower to land on."

"well, nothing juicy is going on here so-" you twist back around before sticking your nose up in the air slightly, "sorry to disappoint."

"alright, fair enough." yoongi nods to himself, letting out a sigh as he slowly backs away from the counter, "i guess i'll just leave you to... wallow in self-pity... and continue staring at your friend with cartoon hearts floating around your head-"

"'you should tell him before it's too late-'" you swivel around and slap both your palms down on the counter, "why would you- why would even say something like that?! i can't tell him. are you insane?!"

a smirk twitches at the corner of yoongi's mouth at your sudden confession and he lets out a sigh before stepping back up towards you, "and why can't you tell him?"

"because- i just can't! he's-" you clear your throat before leaning in and lowering your voice, "he's literally taking someone else out on a date- we're here to buy flowers for his date-"

"so what?" yoongi interrupts, "it's just a date. it's not like you're stopping his wedding."

"so what? because he doesn't like me back, so what's the point?" you hiss, resisting the urge to reach over and smack some common sense into this very nosy and very stubborn stranger, "this isn't a romantic comedy- and even if it was, i'm very obviously not the main character-"

"you don't know that he doesn't like you back."

...

well now he's just toying with you

"i... i can't tell if you're kidding or not-"

"do i look like i'm kidding?" yoongi asks, pointing to his poker face before shaking his head, "you don't know that he doesn't like you back. you've obviously never asked him."

"oh, please." you scoff, turning around to lean back against the counter again, "trust me, i know it."

"well, did he ever explicitly say that he didn't like you?" yoongi leans over to peek at jungkook over your shoulder, "do you have a definitive answer to this particular question?"

"no, but he doesn't have to... we're just friends." you frown, your eyes wandering over to the back of jungkook's head, "he doesn't like me. i know he doesn't. we're just friends."

we're just friends.

(saying it out loud is a lot more depressing than you thought it'd be.)

"well, maybe the reason why you're just friends is because the two of you won't allow yourselves to be more than that," yoongi suggests, your head tilting to the side slightly as you force yourself to consider his surprisingly wise words, "it's obvious that you have a solid friendship so it would suck if a relationship ruined that- so maybe he does like you and is only asking someone else out to try to force himself not to like you..."

you feel your heart skip a beat when jungkook turns to glance at you over his shoulder with a soft smile while seokjin continues rattling off about the vast choice of teddy bears available for purchase

you bite back a giggle when he mouths a desperate 'help' at you before raising his hand and twirling his finger next to his head to tell you that seokjin is fully crazy

"...so i guess what i'm trying to say is that you're never really going to know how he feels about you if you don't ask him," you tune back in to the end of yoongi's little speech and you turn your head slightly to glance back at him, "but what do i know, right? i just polish counters at high-end flower shops."

🎙️tell jungkook he's being an idiot or tell y/n to get a backbone (send in an ask!)

✨why don’t you explore the rest of the library while you’re here? (full fics!)

💫or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles and mini series like smitten!)

🌟or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits!)

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margarethx · 2 years ago

Note

opowiedz mi o "Na litość boską"

Ależ proszę, z przyjemnością :D

(For context: it's about [THIS] tag.)

To begin with, "na litość boską" translates into something like "for God's sake!"/"God give me strenght". It's like an exlamation of frustration, or something you'd say when you're just fed up. (Literally it means "for God's mercy".)

In this story Sam and Bucky don't know each other. They are just some normal guys, who get kidnapped and then stranded in the middle of nowhere without explanation. The problem is that they don't speak the same language and have a lot of issues communicating. But they need to figure out, how to do it, because they have to understand each other if they want to survive and learn why they've ended up here in the first place.

The title is both a reference to the fact that one character speaks only Polish and also to the general frustration they both feel right now xD

This story was probably the most ambitious project I've ever started, but I'm not even sure if it would be pleasant to read. I, personally, don't really like scrolling to the bottom of the page to find a translation of some dialogue in another language. And in this fic you'd have to do that after almost every paragraph. I have some solutions for that in mind, but it'll take a lot time to perfect.

I've tried for example to combine dialogue and narration in such a way, that a reader would be able to understand what a person is saying even without knowing the exact words. For example:

--- ----- --- ----- ---

"Cholera jasna!"

He didn't know what the other guy said, but the irritated tone was obvious enough to understand what he meant.

Or I'd just explain it like this:

He felt growing pain in his empty stomach. They needed to find food and water as soon as possible.

"Umieram z głodu", he mumbled despite being aware that the man next to him had no idea what he said. It just made him feel better to complain about the hunger out loud, even if no one around him could understand the words.

--- ----- --- ----- ---

It's a bit strange, but I'm still very fond of this project, because I like linguistics and translation, so why not write an entire fic where the characters striggle with it for like 30k words :D

--- ----- --- ----- ---

Here's a part from the beginning:

As he tried to change the position he realised that his ribs were not as damaged as he thought. They still hurt like hell and some of them were probably fractured, but the injuries were likely less dangerous than Sam initially thought. When he was rolling down the hill he was slowed down by a large bush growing on his way and that might have saved him a lot of potentially fatal wounds. His entire forearms were littered with bloody scratches, but it was better than hitting his head with a sharp rock at full speed.

The man next to him seemed to be in a similar shape – badly bruised and dishevelled – except from his left arm which… Well. It definitely shouldn’t bend like that. Sam had to get up and do… something. Anything.

“Hej!” he called, louder this time. He coughed, tasting blood in his mouth. He knew he won’t be getting an answer, but it felt even worse to just suffer in mutual silence.

So he gathered all of his strength and will… and pushed off the ground. His right wrist screamed in protest, sending a desperate distress signal to the overloaded brain, but Sam ignored it as best as he could. Laying on the dry, dusty grass wouldn’t help either of them. He needed to assess the damage, find his backpack, contact someone, patch himself and the mystery man up. The whole plan of action started to form and…

“Fuck!”

An angry whisper reached Sam’s ears distracting him from his internal monologues. He looked up from his hands at his companion. The man’s eyes were still closed, but it seemed he was slowly regaining consciousness. And judging by his reaction the process was not fun.

“Czyli żyjesz. No chociaż tyle…”

There was no answer – not that Sam was expecting one.

--- ----- --- ----- ---

“Cholera jasna!" -> It's like a low-level curseword. Something close to "shit" in terms of how vulgar it is. It means "light cholera" ("light" as in "pale"). I don't know why we use the name of a disease to curse, but it's a thing.

"Umieram z głodu" -> "I'm very hungry." (Literally: I'm dying from hunger.)

"Czyli żyjesz. No chociaż tyle…” -> "So you're alive. At least there's that..."

(I don't think I need to explain "hej!" xD I'll just say, that in Polish we read the letter /j/ like /y/ in English. So it's pronounced almost the same way.)

#sam wilson #bucky barnes #sambucky #winterfalcon

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penname-artist · 2 years ago

Note

How bout... 12 and 13? Kill two birds with one stone

12) Who is your favourite character to write for? Why?

13) Who is your least favourite character to write for? Why?

Oh ho ho, have I got a story for you.

Okay I'll start with the really easy one, my favorite character to write is going to be Blade, and there's one very specific reason why: Blade is a character I can really get behind. A leader, who comes from a hard past of loss, and chose to dedicate his life to something better, and likely as a way to give back to the world and ensure others don't have to go through what he did. It's something that hits really close to home, and so I've kinda ended up filtering a lot of my own trauma through him (that's probably obvious through my writing, but I will not apologize. Fanfiction is my escapism). While I do say Dusty and Nick are close seconds, Blade is still my reigning favorite.

Okay now for the least favorite.

For the longest time, I would have told you without the slightest hesitation that my least favorite character to write or use was Cabbie. For the longest time. I had never had any reason to be interested in him as a character, nothing appealed to me (I'm not a military junkie - I know nothing of it, plus bigger aircraft just aren't my thing. I prefer the little bitty prop planes), so really I avoided writing him at ALL costs for the longest time. And then oh goody gum drops, wouldn't you guess it, for a period of time he actually became a trigger of mine. Not a strong one, but if framed in the right light, he sent me spiraling. (Kinda still does, but again, it's very situational, and really only when he's connected to a certain thing).

That being said, if you haven't noticed I HAVE been writing him more as a character. A few months back I started to develop his personality and backstory and kind of rework him into something I could call my own, and steering him away from the parts of him that were causing me to have that trigger. I made him something else, something that disconnected him from it. For a time, yes, he was my absolute LEAST favorite. But now, he's no longer my last choice, he's gone up quite a fair amount on the totem pole. Also, writing him with the rest of the team (Blade, Windlifter, Dusty) has helped a lot in the ways of developing him *just* enough that he recently took off on his own and came back with his entire childhood backstory. Yeah I'm writing that btw, it'll be a good bit before I'm done though lol.

As for who is my least favorite to write now, I'm not really too sure. I would say a character I'm less familiar with but have written, but I don't struggle that much with a lot of them because I've been getting into background characters more and more lately. Flysenhower poses a massive challenge from a military standpoint, but surprisingly not from a personality one. I know who he is in my mind, so I can't say that I disliked writing him (you know, in the one or two times that I have, lol). There's also the Smokejumpers, but they're all being developed and they're not too unlikable for me to write, they're all their own thing now.

You know what, I think I'm going to say Skipper, maybe. Tentatively Skipper for now. Not because I dislike him, but because he, too, is a military character (you notice a pattern? XD) and writing those aspects is inherently next to impossible for someone like me. And personality wise...ehhh? He's chill, and I guess I've got a grasp on him kinda, but it's nothing extravagant or noteworthy. He's just. You know. There. XP

#disney planes #disneyplanes #planes fire and rescue #disney planes 2 #blade ranger #dusty crophopper #nick lopez #cabbie #skipper #fanfiction

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sulphuryasecretcloset · 4 years ago

Text

What if... Part2

(Amazed and honoured at the reception of this one! So very happy y’all enjoyed this little AU that I was NOT going to write xD And thank you for the reblogs and comments, you wonderful people you! <3

For the record, I still blame you @phrenic-a and @mountevey And I see you encouraging them @novembermurray ! )

What if Dulsissia hadn’t died, what if she had grabbed Corin and fled? What if she met Davarax? What if...

Part 1

Part 2

She’s lost her mind. Dulsissa has thought this very thought many times during these last three months, but stars above; she really must have lost her mind now.

The Mandalorian, Davarax, is a complete stranger. She doesn’t know anything about him, only some fragments about his children that she has a feeling are real but might as well not be. And here she is holding her son’s hand and following this man to his ship, fully prepared to board it with him and go some place she has no idea where is to stay with a people she has no clue who are.

“This is your ship?” Corin asks with slight disbelief when they come to a halt in front of it.

Like Davarax’ armor, the ship has seen better days.

Embarrassed by her son’s words, Dulsissia gives Corin’s hand a warning squeeze and sends him a stern look that makes him shrink a little and shuffle his feet.

-Think it, don’t speak it, she’s told him countless times. His honesty will cost him one day.

Davarax snorts an amused laugh, saunters forward to reach out and place an affectionate hand to the ship’s hull. He pets it a couple of times like it’s a living creature. “She might not be the fanciest, but..” The helmet turns to look back at Corin. “I can promise you, Corin, you won’t find a better ship in the Galaxy. The Razor Crest is tough, fast and loyal. Treat her right and she’ll look after you.”

The disdain in Corin’s eyes is replaced with awe. “Really?” He whispers.

“Really.” Davarax confirms, giving the ship a final pat before lowering his arm to press a button on his vambrace. There is a click and a hum and the ship opens a side door, lowering a ramp for them to enter. “Let’s go.”

Dulsissia smiles a little as she follows Davarax inside and how Corin now is pulling eagerly at her hand to make her hurry up. A magical ship is irresistible to a little boy, while she tries hard to ignore the scorch marks she sees on the hull and the ominous weapons attached to it.

Inside, the ship is a lot roomier than she expected it to be. The cargo area makes for a great playground for Corin. The sleeping quarters are narrow, but she doesn’t require much space and Corin even less so. The cockpit is fascinating, she’s never been in one before.

And neither has Corin.

“Baby, no.” Dulsissia reaches out to pull Corin away when he walks right up to the control panel after Davarax has found his place in the pilot seat and watches with utmost amazement as he starts flipping switches and pushing buttons to bring the ship to life. “Come here. Don’t bother Davarax.”

“It’s okay.” Davarax reassures her. He glances over at the boy. “You want to help, young sir?”

Corin nods, too overwhelmed to talk.

“Flip that one.” Davarax points at a tiny switch and Corin instantly reaches out and flips it. “Good job. And now press that button.” He lifts the boy up so he can reach the button in the ceiling.

Dulsissia bites her lower lip to keep from getting too emotional as she watches her son eagerly obey instructions and soaking up every bit of encouragement and praise from the Mandalorian, starved for both after all the years his father gave him none. It hurts to watch how such simple kindness from a man stuns Corin but it is also so good to see her son this happy. Maybe she didn’t lose her mind when she decided to go with Darvarax, maybe it was the one good choice she’s made since deciding to leave Macero? She hopes.

“Okay, ad’ika.” Davarax says. “The Razor Crest is awake. Time for you to get in your seat.” He nudges Corin, who reluctantly wanders over to the one seat left after his mother claimed the one behind Davarax. He climbs, with a little difficulty, up on it, and settles. A tiny boy in a big seat.

Dulsissia moves over to buckle him in and frowns. He’s too small. It won’t keep him safe at all.

Without looking over at them, Davarax makes some final adjustments on his panel. “Next to the seat. On the left. There’s this box he can sit on. I use that when I bring Din or Barthor along.”

Dulsissia blinks. It’s not something she’d picture a mercenary to have on his ship. But a peek down the side does indeed reveal a box and once Corin is sitting on that, he gets a better view, to his delight, and the belts actually fit him instead of choking him, to her relief.

The ship takes off and sets course for the darkness above. Dulsissia is not sorry to leave this place.

Now all she has to worry about is what Nevarro is like and how the Mandalorians will react to Davarax bringing home a stray and her offspring. She wonders if the other Mandalorians are like Davarax, if she will get to meet his children and most important of all; will Corin like it there?

The journey to Nevarro will take two standard days. It’s strange how two days on a small ship with her husband or her friends would have driven her insane, but the hours on board the Razor Crest feel safe and almost enjoyable as Davarax’ patience with her son’s continued craving for his attention and praise.

Every time her boy butts into whatever the Mandalorian is doing, calls for him to look at what he is doing instead, Dulsissia feels a stab of dread, waiting to hear the sharp annoyance that would always follow his attempts to reach his father, but every time Davarax replies with mild amusement and eternal patience. He even brings Corin along to ‘help’ with some repairs in the cargo area and leaves her to just rest or whatever she feels like doing.

With there being no place for the man to run off with her child, it’s not like he’ll jump into space with him, and a growing trust in Davarax, Dulsissia ends up sitting in the cockpit like an idiot and having no clue what to do. It’s been almost five years since she didn’t spend every second of her day hovering over Corin.

After what feels like a small eternity of just sitting there, listening to the muffled voices from the cargo hold, Dulsissia notices her reflection in the transparisteel and slowly lifts a hand to her blond locks. Oh, she looks a mess. No wonder Davarax had decided she needed help; she looks like a wookiee.

When Davarax and Corin returns to the cockpit, she has eased the final hairpin into place and her sweet boy lights up at the sight of her. He runs over, places his hands on her knees and looks up at her with a smile so bright it makes her smile as well. “Wow. You look really pretty, mommy.”

Davarax ruffles Corin’s hair as he walks by him on the way to the pilot seat. “She always does, ad’ika.”

Her face burns for some reason. Dulsissia pulls Corin up to sit on her lap and she changes the topic. “What does that mean? You keep calling him that.”

“It’s from my language. Mando’a.” Davarax replies, fidgeting with something on the panel to see if the repairs were successful. “It’s what we call our youngsters.”

Smiling, oddly pleased with the answer, Dulsissia looks down and sees Corin has gotten oil on his face and starts the battle of wiping it away while he tries to squirm free.

It’s not just Corin who gets to learn new things. On the second day, while her boy sleeps, Dulsissia takes out the blade Davarax had given her and tests the weight and feel of it. Wearing a dress restricts the movement of her legs a bit, so she’ll need to have a good idea of how to use her arms. Make the most of what she can use.

She feels stupid, waving the blade around, pretending to stab an invisible opponent, but Dulsissia gets so into it that she’s entirely unprepared for a hand suddenly gripping her wrist.

Startled, she flinches and almost drops the knife.

“Not like that.” Davarax’ voice says from behind her. She hadn’t heard him approach.

His gloved hand slides over her pale one and helps her turn the blade so she holds it in a reverse grip instead.

“Like this. It will give you more options during an attack and more power. More power to do more damage. Plus,” Davarax steps closer and slides his other arm loosely around her waist in a slight mimicry of how those men had grabbed her, “you can do this.”

The hand on hers adds a little pressure and makes her lower her arm in a careful swing until the blade goes by her thigh and the tip comes to a halt against the front of his thigh.

“And when the blade is in, you twist.” His voice is so calm. And so close. If not for the helmet, she suspects she’d feel his words on her neck. “Understand?”

Dulsissia gives a quick little nod. Her eyes probably as big as Corin’s tend to get around this man.

“Good.” Davarax lets her go and circles to stand in front of her. “Now, if someone approaches you from the front, what you should do is-”

She still feels silly, waving the blade around and Davarax letting her practice on him when he could disarm her without even looking her way, but at the end of that first session; Dulsissia knows where to aim and how to do as much damage as possible.

Also, when the Mandalorian hands out praise, she can’t blame her son for wanting more because she realizes that she hasn’t heard too much of that in her own lifetime either and it feels really, really good to finally think she’s not hopeless at least.

When they land on Nevarro, Dulsissia can’t help but to feel nervous again. She picks up Corin, who allows it with a resigned sigh, and holds him close while following Davarax off the ship. The journey has been another respite before facing her difficult situation, but it’s over now.

Time to find out what will be next for her and her baby.

Davarax leads her through the dusty city, Dulsissia places a protective hand on Corin’s head and shields him from seeing leers and sneers sent their way, and they finally reach a door that brings them underground to the hidden Covert of the Mandalorians.

It’s dark below and it takes a while for Dulsissia’s eyes to adjust so she doesn’t see them until she’s walking right by the other Mandalorians, who stand there, staring at her with emotionless t-visors.

Flinching with a startled sound, she jumps forward and nearly bumps into Davarax’ back.

“They won’t harm you.” Davarax says, not turning around or even slowing his walk. “You’re safe.”

Looking around as they walk, Dulsissia hopes he is right, because there are quite an amount of armored people there and they aren’t exactly rolling out a welcoming committee. “If you say so.”

In the depths of the tunnels, they approach what appears to be the seat of power, judging by the decorations and respectful behaviour of the ones there.

They have taken one step inside the room, it appears to some kind of a forge, when Davarax stops and Dulsissia follows his example. “Stay here.” He says. “Only speak when spoken to.”

She then watches in silence as he steps forward and walks over to kneel down in front of the forge where a Mandalorian in a golden armor and a fur cloak is working on something. Minutes pass and Dulsissia has to hoist Corin a couple of times as the boy really is getting heavy, but they all wait for what has to be the leader of the Mandalorians to finish whatever they are working on.

Finally the one in the golden helmet puts the hammer down, lingers and walks over to where Davarax is kneeling. “Did you complete your mission?”

Davarax reaches into the pocket of his belt, fishes out a handful of valuables and places them on the ground as an offering.

The leader looks at what he has brought, gives a thoughtful nod and then shifts her attention to Dulsissia. “And you have brought something else to the Covert as well.”

“They need a place to stay. Somewhere safe.”

“A foundling is always welcome.” The leader replies in a neutral voice. “This other one does not look like a warrior.”

“She has the makings of one.” Davarax counters in an equally neutral voice. “She will be my responsibility. Both of them.”

“Very well.” The leader says, but she does not sound pleased. “This is the way.”

“This is the way.” Davarax echoes. He gets up and walks out of the room, only pausing to give Dulsissia’s arm a light touch to signal her to follow him. She does.

Once they are at a certain distance from the room and the leader, Dulsissia hoists Corin, who she suspects is too scared by these new surroundings to say anything, and voices her thoughts. “She doesn’t want me here.”

Davarax does his little trademark huff of a laugh. “Don’t worry about it.”

Dulsissia sighs and hoists Corin a little again. Her arms are burning. She does not expect Davarax to come to an abrupt halt, forcing her to stop as well, and turn around to hold out his arms.

“Give him to me.”

Dulsissia clutches Corin a little closer and stares at him with surprise at his betrayal.

His helmet tilts a little and Davarax is the one to sigh. “Just until I can show you your room.”

She hesitates for several seconds. What convinces her is Corin pushing away from her and reaching out to him, and only then does Dulsissia hand her son over to the Mandalorian and awkwardly wraps her arms around herself instead.

Corin quickly settles on Davarax’ arm and looks around with bright, curious eyes from his new and taller perch.

The Mandalorian reaches out his free hand and gently touches by her shoulder. “Come.” He says, not unkindly. “Let me show you where you’ll stay.”

The door slides open. Stepping inside, Davarax following her with Corin, Dulsissia looks around and finds it small and modest but far cleaner and inviting than some of the inns she and her son have stayed at during these last weeks. There are no windows, but there is a light in the ceiling.

There are two beds, a rickety looking table and some hooks in the wall to hang clothing on.

“It’s not much, I know.” Davarax sounds a bit awkward. “But it will be yours.” Dulsissia looks over at him with a grateful smile. “It’s wonderful. Thank you.”

Davarax turns sideways and points at the door they can see across the hallway. “That’s me. If you need anything.” He puts Corin down on his own two feet and lets him run over to climb into the closest bed and start jumping on it.

“Corin, baby, no.” Dulsissia says, meeting the defiant look he sends her way with a stern look of her own and feels a smug sense of victory when the boy sits down with an annoyed huff. She can then turn her attention back to Davarax. “You have done so much for us already. How can I ever repay you?”

He seems surprised by her words and it takes a second before he shakes his head. “There is nothing to repay. You don’t owe me anything. Neither does your boy. I just want you two to be safe.”

Dulsissia has to turn away to hide her eyes flooding with tears. She’d given up on there being decent people in the Galaxy and then she had to stumble across the most noble of them all?

“I’ll, uh, give you some time to settle in. Get some rest.” Davarax mumbles, backing out of the room. “I’ll be back later. I’ll see if I can get you some spare clothes. I know there are some for Corin. And then I’ll show you two around. Sounds good?”

“Will you show me the training room?” Corin asks with badly hidden hope.

“Absolutely, young sir.” Davarax replies with a bow that has Corin giggle with delight.

When the door slides shut behind the Mandalorian, Dulsissia walks over to sit next to her sweet boy and combs her fingers through his thick, dark hair. “We are going to stay here for a while, baby. Okay?”

Corin nods eagerly and gives her another gap-toothed smile. “Yeah! Dav’rax gonna show me where he trains to fight bad guys. Maybe he can teach me too?”

“We’ll see.” Dulsissia replies, unwilling to make any promises on behalf of the man. While she’d prefer her son to never see battle in his lifetime, she’s not stupid. Once she chose to leave Seswenna, she condemned them both to an existence where they both will have to learn to defend themselves.

She and Corin explore the room, discover there is a barely visible door on the western wall that leads to what has to be the Galaxy’s tiniest refresher room, and they play-fight over who gets which bed, but in the end there isn’t all that much to do but wait for Davarax to return.

When there finally is a knock on the door, both Dulsissia and Corin eagerly jump to their feet and is equally pleased to see the now almost familiar Mandalorian. Dulsissia is fairly certain she’d be able to recognize his helmet and armor in a sea of others at this point.

Davarax holds out a small pile of clothes. “This will at least give you something to change into.”

Accepting the gift, Dulsissia manages another smile, despite once again feeling the bite of humiliation. She thinks about the gorgeous dresses she used to wear. The adorable outfits she had made for Corin. She’ll probably be the first Motti to ever use second-hand clothing… Then she snaps out of it and clutches the clothes close with a sense of appreciation instead. “Thank you.”

“And you, ad’ika, are you ready to check out your new home?” Davarax asks Corin.

“Yes, sir!” Corin replies, back straight and eagerness barely contained.

The Covert, as she understands it is called, is a complicated network of hallways and tunnels. It used to be the old sewers of Neverro, Davarax explains and Dulsissia tries not to shudder. At least Macero won’t think to look for them here.

The other Mandalorians are still staring quietly at her, but the ones Davarax introduces her to give her a polite nod at least. They don’t seem hostile, but they aren’t exactly brimming with hospitality either. Dulsissia suspects that maybe they don’t get too many visitors in their underground home.

She minds her manners, tries to not offend anyone and considering that none of them draw their frankly intimidating blasters says she might not be doing the worst job of it. Dulsissia used to be so very good at socializing. She was the queen of all the balls back on Seswenna. Now she’s only hoping not to offend.

“And I saved the best for last.” Davarax says with the excitement she usually hears from her son. He stops by a door, turns to face her and lets his hand over over the button to open. “My kids.”

Dulsissia has just enough time to feel both surprise and nervousness and then the door slides open.

Lined up in a neat row, clearly having been given firm instructions to be followed when Davarax brought her and her son, four children stand in the middle of what looks like a training room and stare at the new arrivals.

The one of the left has to be Paz. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he was sixteen, not eleven. He’s a lot taller than the others, but lacks the lankiness that would usually follow such an early height growth. He has the powerful bones to carry the height, but a child’s face. Paz’ dark hair is cut entirely short except for the unruly spikes on top, his mouth is a thin, disapproving line and his big hands are clenched. Next to him, barely reaching his team-mate’s shoulder, is the one that has to be Barthor. He has curly, dark hair that is getting a bit long, scarecrow shoulders and sharp eyes that are locked on Dulsissia like he’s seeing her with a crosshair on her forehead. Next to him is definitely Raga. Like Barthor, she’s small and skinny, but she has the most amazing hair Dulsissia has ever seen. It is a wild mess, but the volume and the curls are stunning. Too bad the glare behind the mane warns her that she’ll get her fingers bit off if she so much as tries to touch it. And then, half hidden behind Raga, is the one Davarax keeps referring to as ‘little Din’. He’s not especially small for his age, but he appears to be a lot more timid than the others. He is very cute, though, with silky dark hair and soulful eyes.

Davarax walks over and starts introducing each child. Dulsissia is pleased to hear she’s guessed right about their identities and gives a brief curtsy. “Pleased to meet you. I am Dulsissia.”

Silence.

Davarax reaches out and pokes a finger at Paz’ head. “Hey.”

Paz’ nose twitches, like a hound about to bare its teeth, then he reluctantly steps forward until he stands in front of her and he reaches out a hand. “I’m honoured to meet you.”

Trying to hold back an amused smile and failing to a certain degree, Dulsissia takes his hand and he shakes hers with a stern look on his little face, trying so hard to act like an adult. She has to stop herself from hugging him. It’s so cute.

Barthor gives her a nod, which is good enough for her but gets an annoyed sigh from Davarax. Raga moves forward, Din following her like a tail, and she seems more interested in something behind Dulsissia.

What… Oh. Right.

Dulsissia reaches back and ushers Corin out from his hiding place. “This is Corin. Say hello Corin.”

“Hello.” He says in a tiny voice, looking from one to the other and probably feeling like prey. She doesn’t blame him. He hasn’t really played with other children before. Macero didn’t think it would be good for him to mix with others. And these ones are already being trained to be warriors.

Paz frowns and crossed his arms. “Are you going to take the Creed?”

Corin blinks. “I…”

“They are going to stay with us. That’s all you need to focus on, Paz.” Davarax replies.

“Is he going to train with us?” Barthor asks, his eyes still too sharp for someone so young.

“We haven’t decided that yet.” Davarax says and glances over at Dulsissia.

“He should play with us.” Raga says, her lip curling in something that could be a smile but is mostly a flash of teeth. When Corin shuffles to partially hide behind Dulsissia’s leg, Raga doesn’t move but her eyes move with him.

“He is going to play with you.” Davarax says and stalks forward until he’s standing next to Raga, towering over her. “And you’re all going to be nice to him. Understand?”

The girl scowls up at him. “I’m always nice.”

“No, you’re not.” Barthor scoffs.

Raga’s mess of a hair bounces as she snaps her gaze over at him and he shuffles over to partially hide behind the still stern-looking Paz.

“She’s going to be nice to my son,” Dulsissia says, her voice sweet and her eyes not, “because he has a mother who will have words with everyone who isn’t nice to him.”

Raga shifts her scowl over to Dulsissia, scans her, scowls harder, but when Dulsissia doesn’t give her an inch, she sighs and her little body relaxes. “Fiiiiine.”

And while all of this is happening, little Din silently watches Corin from his hiding place and Corin curiously looks back at him from his.

“I told them to behave.” Davarax grouses as he’s bringing her to where she can find food for herself and Corin.

Laughing, Dulsissia glances down at where her son is walking next to her, holding on to her hand and looking around with curiosity, not fear. “I think it went well.”

“No, you don’t understand.” Davarax sighs and there is actual sadness to the sound. “The others call them lost causes. Troublemakers. I know they are difficult, that their manners aren’t like Corin’s, but.. They are good kids. They really are. I wanted you to see that.”

Dulsissia reaches out and places her hand on his upper arm where there is no armor. And she speaks the truth. “I did see that.”

Davarax comes to an abrupt halt, she does the same, and despite the t-visor she can feel the look of surprise on his face.

“You… did?” There is a fragile hope in his voice that doesn’t match his rough exterior.

Dulsissia nods and smiles. “It’s like you said, Paz watches over the others like they were ‘his’ children. He did not hesitate to protect Barthor from Raga. Barthor, who would not let Raga lie and trick my son. Raga, who didn’t care that my son was an outsider and just saw him as someone to play with. And sweet little Din who despite his fear wanted so much to say hello. I think he and Corin will get along so well. And…” She hesitates, looks down at her son but finds him distracted by staring at something down the hallway and has no excuse not to say what else she saw. Dulsissia looks back up at Davarax, who is waiting for her to finish. “And I saw just how much those children love you.”

Davarax stares at her.

“You are the world, the entire Galaxy to them.” Dulsissia says, remembering the look of pure adoration and love in their eyes as he mildly chastised them for acting like tree monkeys in front of their visitors. She doubts he understands how important his role is to these children. How their happiness hangs on his words. How they will do anything for his approval. “My parents ruled our house with an iron fist. But these children? They don’t obey you because they have to or because they fear you. They do it because they love you. Because you see them.”

He shivers and the only reason she knows is because her hand is still on his arm.

“Dulcy, I…” Davarax reaches up and covers her hand with his.

“I know bad men, Davarax. I know monsters pretending to be men. But you?” Dulsissia looks over at how his hand is holding on to hers, so gently despite the strength she knows he must be capable of. “You are a good man. You are the kind of man I wish Corin had for a father.”

Davarax takes a step closer, is suddenly very close and the muscles in his arm tighten under her palm. “Is he the one you are running from?”

Dulsissia tenses up and looks down at her son. Corin is still caught up in whatever he’s staring at.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Davarax says ever so softly. “I just want to help you.”

“I know.” Dulsissia whispers. She doesn’t want to say Macero’s name. It’s stupid, but she fears if she does; it might summon him. “That is what makes you a good man.”

A light touch to her chin and Davarax’ other hand lifts her face to look up at him and there is a slight smile in his voice when he speaks. “I’m not ‘that’ good.”

Dulsissia giggles. She hasn’t giggled in years. And her face flushes.

“I’m hungry.” Corin declares.

Davarax jumps back a step and Dulsissia jumps in place and they both look down at the little boy like guilty teenagers.

“I-I’m sorry, baby. We’ll get you something to eat now.” Dulsissia stammers, her face heating up even more.

“Food. Yes. This way.” Davarax clears his throat and gestures for them to follow him.

They enter the room where food is stored, Davarax shows them where the fires are so she can cook if she feels like it and basically where all the other necessities of the Covert are.

By the time the tour comes to an end by the door to their room, Corin is exhausted and Dulsissia knows she won’t struggle finding sleep either. Still, she’s almost a little reluctant to part ways with Davarax when he pauses outside their door.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” She asks.

“I was hoping that you might want to bring Corin by training.” Davarax says. “He can observe for a while. Maybe try some exercises. Training is the best way for the children to burn off their energy and learn skills as the city above is not safe for them.”

Dulsissia nods. “I will bring him.” She hesitates, knowing he must be tired of hearing her say it but still has to; “Thank you.”

Davarax shakes his head, reaches out and gingerly tucks a golden lock behind her ear. “No thanks required.” He backs up a step, nods and spins around to march over to his door. He keeps pressing the button to his room so the door opens and shuts twice before he can actually get inside.

Late at night, curled up on her side in her bed, looking over at the barely visible silhouette of her son’s back in the other bed, Dulsissia knows she made the best decision ever by coming here.

#the mandalorian his son and the storm trooper #Dulsissia Motti #Davarax #Baby Corin #Fearsome Four #Mandorin AU

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grimmjowkurosakidrake · 4 years ago

Text

Fluttering down, fluttering love

Summary: Post Gaiden, Sasuke finds Sakura in the middle of an ill fated mission.

Length: 3501 words

Relationships: Sasuke Uchiha/Sakura Uchiha, Sasuke Uchiha/Sakura Haruno

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: NSFW

Disclaimer: This fic is a commision for the really kind @talesandwonder but really, the idea was so good that I couldn’t stop writting XD

If you want to commission me or any of the other wonderfull writers of @witcheswritings don’t hesitate to DM us!

Sakura will never stop being in awe of the sheer amount of safe places the Uchiha hold around the five great shinobi countries. There’s something to be said about a clan who expanded so far outside of their territory; Building strongholds, secret caves, and cabins deep in the woods around almost every single shinobi populated (or even unpopulated) territory.

This is where Sakura feels somehow estranged from the Uchiha clan. She’s never been outside of Konoha in a mission and thought about making arrangements so her daughter or other relatives could find solace outside the village.

She often thinks about taking Sarada on dates at her favorite dango place, she usually has a camera ready for any important moment in her life.

But she rarely thinks about helping her on missions, just like her own parents rarely talked with her about her own missions, back when she was a genin.

She’s not like Sasuke.

After marrying him, the Uchiha disclosed an entire map of the five great shinobi countries to her. It was an old thing, dusty and well loved, obviously a family heirloom passed to the boy only by merit alone of being the last Uchiha.

“The blue dots are safe places,” Sasuke told her, on a spring night in one of those lucky moments of their journey together when they could spend the night in an inn, change their clothes and take well needed bath. “The red ones are settlements of people who will help you when they see the Uchiha symbol on your back.” He murmured placing a steady hand on the newly embroidered mark on the back of her red shirt. “No questions asked,” he finished, whispering against her ear.

This information was supposed to be for her ears only, so she could be safe anywhere without worrying about being on enemy territory.

Because she was an Uchiha and the Uchiha kept their own safe.

It’s all thanks to this conversation that when she and Sasuke find themselves in need of hiding from their enemies, with her husband heavy and passed out on her shoulders as she tries to drag them both through the heavy rain and into the small cabin well hidden in the depths of the woods north of the land of water. Sakura doesn’t waste any time trying to find a hidden spot.

She already has every spot on the Uchiha map committed to memory.

The cabin is small, completely furnished but not properly stocked, the door is locked too, and Sakura doesn’t have enough chakra to hold her husband and break the door at the same time.

She’s strong enough, thought.

The medic-nin ends up kicking the door open, Sasuke barely wakes up at this, still in a feverish state but awake enough to smirk at his wife’s show of strength.

“Aren’t you glad that we found each other, wife?” Asks the shinobi, holding onto Sakura’s shoulder, trying to stand by himself but failing miserably as his wounded legs fail him.

They’re both drenched to the bone, sweat, blood and rain water mixing in dangerous concoction, putting them at risk of catching a cold, on top of everything.

“Yes,” She chuckles, kissing the side of his head before dragging Sasuke to the dusty, old bed waiting for them at the center of the small cabin. “I always love to reunite with you while being surrounded by rouge ninja, dear.”

She allows the dark haired man to sit on the bed as she limps and closes the door, struggling to perform a simple sealing jutsu on the entrance.

She’s almost completely depleted of chakra, having been fighting for more than an hour alone with more than forty rouge shinobi without a moment to breath or heal herself.

She has burn wounds all over her right arm and leg, her own left leg sensitive from two separated stab wounds courtesy of her enemies.

She hasn’t been able to heal herself properly, not with every single shinobi on her tail and well aware of her identity, with each one of them attacking her at the same time.

Sacrificing their bodies and their lives for the chance of taking down one of Konoha’s three neo sannin.

They obviously knew every single detail about her.

Sakura Haruno can heal herself from almost anything in less than ten seconds, her inhuman strength only paralleled by her quick strategizing in battle, and her chakra control a feat most shinobi twice her age could only dream for.

Sakura Haruno, also. Would rarely mortally wound an enemy unless pushed to her limit. A deadly weapon with almost no body count to show for it.

When Sasuke found her, she was down to almost thirty men but he had his own tail of rouge shinobi behind him.

He was already wounded when they found each other in the middle of their own fights. Sasuke, luckily, was not being followed by more than five shinobi and his chakra reserves weren’t low by any means.

He was never one to have mercy on his enemies. As the last of his clan (his family), and a former international criminal, Sasuke Uchiha was not one to rule out murder if it meant saving himself or his loved ones.

With a sigh, Sakura reaches the bed and helps her husband out of his cape and bloody clothes.

He’s bleeding from his right thigh from a katana wound in the form of an almost clean slash across it. He’s probably poisoned if the almost blueish complexion around the three needles still attached to his left shoulder have anything to say about it.

He also has a nasty bruise by the side of his face that could end up developing in a concussion if not treated immediately.

Overall, his injuries are definitely more pressing than her own and even if they weren’t, Sakura would never treat her own husband after herself. Rules of a medic-nin be dammed.

Sasuke of course, would love to object. “You should treat yourself first, Sakura.” He admonishes her as she makes a quick job of removing the needles attached to the shinobi’s shoulders. “My injuries can wait.”

“You’ve been poisoned, dear.” She points out as if it weren’t already obvious, “You definitely can’t wait treatment.”

Sasuke huffs as she opens her poison’s scroll, carefully removing the poison with the aid of a concoction she had stored away on a small vial. “I’m immune to most poisons,” he reminds Sakura, grunting as she injects him with one of her standard antidotes.

“That would make two of us,” she smirks, green soothing chakra oozing off her hands as she makes a quick job of healing the wound on his thigh.

When Sakura is almost ready with the both of them, just finishing with applying some salve on the burns on her arms, Sasuke speaks up. “You shouldn’t have come alone,” he growls from where he’s laying on the bed, still too sore from his injuries and blood lost to help her. “The borders near Rain are still full of rogue shinobi.” He adds, glaring at a blind spot near her. “No matter what Naruto or the other Kage say, the shinobi world is not a place of peace.”

Sakura is strong, but she’s human, a mortal just like him and even Naruto. But more than anything she’s kind. Completely different from anyone of their team. Where everyone at team seven decided to kill for a living, she choose to give life.

If she just killed those men, Sakura would not have been in any trouble, but his wife will never kill anyone if she feels that she doesn’t have to, most of the time she’s reluctant to even mortally wound her enemies.

For what she’s told him, even the death of what he considers a virtual monster: Sasori. Affected her as if the puppet she fought was a living, feeling person.

She felt for him, on his last seconds, cried for him after his death, and learned from him as much as she learned from his grandmother.

She’s a medical ninja at heart, stronger than most, but as far as Sasuke is concerned, Sakura should never have mission alone near the borders of a shinobi village whose culture still revolves around murder and senseless violence.

Sakura huffs, kneeling in front of the fireplace where there’s still some wood from who knows when, it’s a little bit green around the edges so it will be difficult to star a decent fire, but she can do it.

Deeply inhaling and accumulating her chakra at the top of her lungs, Sakura allows herself into breathing the fire her husband passed onto her as if she was his own blood. It was difficult to learn at first; she has to admit. Sakura is not compatible with fire ninjutsu, not even with air ninjutsu.

But people like Kakashi do exist and even if she can’t create a great fireball justsu of the monumental size Sasuke has achieved after years of training. She’s still able to produce enough fire to ignite the fireplace.

“It was supposed to be a recognizance mission,” Mutters the pink haired kunoichi, moving the wood around with the fire iron. “I was not even aware that the place was filled to the brim with rogue ninja.” She sighs, leaving the warmth of the fire to sit alongside her husband on the bed. “If someone told me that there would be shinobi around I would have concealed myself.”

Silently she touches her own hair, then, her forehead, tracing the small diamond tattoo that she earned with years of storing chakra even when her life was at risk.

“I’m not the most discreet looking kunoichi around.” She mutters.

Sasuke sits up on the bed, moving himself so he can be as near her as possible, then, almost in a wary way, the shinobi lifts his only arm, caressing her pink hair with great care.

“The borders of Rain had been invaded for more than a month.” Growls the Uchiha patriarch, not angry at her, of course not.

He’s angry with his Hokage, his best friend.

Naruto must have been aware of this fact. Sasuke somehow manages to be in more contact with the Hokage than with his own daughter and wife.

Even if he promised them to be around more often, to be more in contact with them.

After his short detour in Konoha, when he had an ill fated meeting with a Sarada that didn’t recognise him just like he didn’t recognise her. Sasuke quickly came back to the road, asking Naruto to take better care of Sarada, and informing him that he would be coming back more frequently, if only to start training his daughter as she deserves.

But this past month, Sasuke has only been able to keep correspondence with the Hokage, too apprehensive about his falcons being intercepted by the enemy for him to reach out to Sakura.

It seems that Naruto didn’t have any reserves about exposing their ex teammate to the rogue ninja as himself.

“I’ll have a talk with Naruto.” Finally, concludes Sakura, resting her head on his shoulder. Even if she’s at least a little bit mad with herself for having to be saved by her husband once more. She knows that Naruto didn’t give her enough information.

Sasuke has been giving him information for over a month, without sending falcons to even her, Naruto should have at least told Sakura to conceal herself.

“That will make it two of us,” he mutters, holding her tight from across her waist. “I can’t believe that idiot.”

“I should have been prepared anyway,” Sighs Sakura, accepting the warm comfort of her husband’s reassuring weight so close to her. “I know the peace treaty doesn’t mean anything more than politics, that I shouldn’t go out of Konoha without concealing myself.”

“It’s not your fault.” Mutters her husband, kissing the side of her head, “You fought with your life for that treaty to be made. You are war a hero, there’s no one more prepared than you.”

“That can’t be true,” she smiles kindly at him.

Sasuke is well known across the shinobi world for being cool and almost, borderline cruel. There’s been more people than Sakura can count warning her about the former criminal. But he is kind to her, he is kind to his daughter.

Sometimes maybe too kind.

There’s something to be said about a merciless murderer who’s able to feel love, who’s capable of kindness.

There’s a lot to be said about the woman who falls in love with him. Always ready to love everyone but herself.

Sasuke sighs “I’ll speak with Naruto.” He concedes, there’s not a lot to be argued when Sakura feels that she has something to prove. “There were at least five A-rank shinobi in the group you fought alone, it’s not your fault when you didn’t even know that you were supposed to fight.”

“You’ve never needed to be briefed before entering enemy’s territory.” She mutters, “you’re always prepared, and so are Kakashi and Sai.”

“You are a medical ninja.” He reminds her, “no matter your rank, you’re always supposed to be part of a team. Especially when dealing with so many powerful ninjas around the area.”

Sakura smiles “Sasuke-kun…” she sighs.

“We will talk with Naruto.” He smiles at her reassuring, “he needs to be reminded of his duties as our Hokage.”

“How did I get so lucky?” Asks Sakura facing him. he smiles at her words as she lifts her hand, carefully moving the hair covering his left eye. “Ino would never believe me,” she laughs.

“Don’t go out ruining my reputation.” He kisses the side of her lips. “I won’t start being nice to anyone out there. Just you.”

Sakura smiles, kissing his closed mouth as he moves away from her face. He grunts but answers the kiss in kind when she holds the back of his neck with one hand and buries her fingers on his hair with the other.

She moans a little when Sasuke licks her bottom lip, and eagerly gives entrance. It’s only when he bites her lower lip that she separates from him.

“You’re hurt, dear.” Admonishes Sakura moaning as Sasuke kisses her neck, licking a long strip from her clavicle to her chiselled jaw.

Sasuke only smirks as an answer. “You’re a really good doctor, wife.” He growls, biting the lobe of her ear.

He plays with the hem of the mesh crop top she wears underneath her qipao long shirt, drumming his fingers against the center of her chest from underneath it, waiting for her to act, as he kisses her deeply.

She barely hesitates before moving him aside with a gentle push on his own naked chest, making a quick job of taking off her top.

He smirks holding her by the waist when she gingerly sits on his lap. “I am a good doctor.” She whispers in his ear, caressing the prominent bulge on his boxers with a firm, steady hand.

Sasuke groans at the feeling, urgently kissing the top of her breasts with wet, open mouthed kisses, lifting his hips and uselessly trying to rut against her hand as she presses her thumb against his already erect cock. “Sakura.” He groans, playfully biting her right nipple.

“What?” She smiles, slowly caresing the sides of his memeber, playing with the head of his cock where a wet patch is already staining his underwear.

There’s a heated glint in her green eyes, clearly amused by his neediness. By the way he groans when she moves away from him in order to take off his boxers.

“Don’t tease.” He growls holding her neck, then her waist again. Forcing her body underneath him.

“I’m not.” She pouts, lifting her back from the bed when her husband trails barely there kisses from her quivering throat to her stomach.

He easily takes off her pants whith Sakura’s help as she lifts her hips and opens her legs at each side of him.

The lace and silk boy shorts she usually wears undermath her mission clothes are already wet when he kisses the underside of her tights, it doesn’t mean Sasuke will stop there.

Sighing deeply, Sasuke licks a long stripe across her entire clothed sex, holding her clit on the inside of his mouth until she’s burring her fingers on his head and interlacing her legs behind his neck, the talons of her feet digging on his spine.

She hastily removes her fingers from his head to take off her underwear herself. This is what he’s been waiting for.

For Sakura to forget his own pleasure in favor of hers. To overlook him completely as she grips him by the neck and holds his face against her pussy. Forcing him there as Sasuke licks her insides, moving his tongue inside of her core in quick, broad thrusts.

There’s no forcing him, Sasuke loves being here; in between her legs as she moans and demands for more. But the feeling of her manicured nails digging on his scalp, the pain on his back as her legs kick against his skin.

That is the feeling that keeps him rutting against the bed, gasping for breath as he’s not able to hold his owns growls and moans of pleasure at the edging feeling of the barely there pressure of the bed against his cock.

Sakura comes for the first time like this, thrusting hips against her husband’s face, screaming with Sasuke’s mouth holding her clit as his tongue flicks around it without stopping. Not even when she let’s go of his hair or when her juices drip from his neck jaw to his collarbones.

Even when her body falls heavily on the bed, Sasuke lazily kisses her labia to his heart’s content, enjoying her little tremors and gasping moans of over-sensitivity.

“Sasuke-kun…” Sighs Sakura breathlessly holding his jaw. “Stop.” She commands when he tries to fight her grasp on him. “You’re still hurt, honey.” Coos her wife incorporating on the bed and caressing his lower lip with her thumb.

Her voice is soothing but her eyes are burning as she forces him on his back. She kisses him sweetly when her hands grip his cock.

Sasuke can’t help but moan from the depths of his throat as she slowly lowers herself on his member, enjoying the burn and the feeling of finally being full after so much time apart.

With a triumphant groan, Sakura’s hips align with his own “Sakura.” He groans, griping her waist as she bends over him, her breasts pressing against his chest, her knees bending at the sides of his hips.

“It feels so good.” Moans Sakura, her arms resting at the sides of his face, her hips moving without a warning. “I’ve missed this,” she moans against his open mouth.

Slowly, her hands move to the sides of his neck, her tongue peaking out of her open, red lips making his own mouth open up on instinct, gasping when they meet in the middle.

Her hands move to his chest, using him as leverage to rise heavily onto his hips, setting a breathless pace over him. “You’re...” gasps Sasuke, his hands moving to her core, his thumb running small, quick circles on her clit. “So tight,” he moans moving his hips alongside Sakura’s, “so warm.”

There’s warmth coiling at the bottom of his stomach, pressure on his entire chest and his hands moves erratically on her clit. “Sakura!” he screams, unsteadily thrusting into her even when he knows that he should pull out.

She doesn’t respond, her body falling on top of him as her inner walls constrict against his cock and her legs close against him. Sasuke holds her with one arm, embracing her through her moans and quivering espasmodict thrust of oversensitivity, thrusting mindlessly inside her, before coming.

“Sasuke-kun!” Moans Sakura one last time, his grip on her entire body and the warm feeling of her husband filling her, too much for her to remain silent.

There’s a mess of fluids in between them as they cuddle breathless in bed, Sakura’s pink hair tickling the top of his nose.

************......... ************ ************......... ************ ************......... ************ ************......... ************ ************......... ************

The morning after, Sasuke finds Sakura drinking tea with a warm cup of coffee resting by her side. She’s naked from the waist down, her qipao shirt open and resting over her shoulders.

“When are you coming back to Konoha?” He asks, taking the coffee and kissing the top of her head.

“Sarada is on a mission for two weeks.” She answers, smirking “You think we can take down this invasion by then?”

Her smirk is almost feral with confidence, her eyes sharp, just like they were yesterday when she had him on the palm of her hands.

This is the woman he married, Sasuke thinks as he grabs his Katana from the mess of clothes they left las night.

A warrior to her core; confident and strong.

#Sasuke Uchiha #sakura uchiha #Sakura Haruno #naruto fanfiction #sasusaku #sasusaku fic #post gaiden #commission #commisionwork #taking commisions #nsft text

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onedivinemisfit · 4 years ago

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During my recovery, this has been my biggest project, no kidding. I looked but couldn’t find Obi’s witcher!AU body template so I sketched some Bruxa!yuki designs instead. <w< I’ll finalize and colour them when I’m well, or so I hope, unless I forget XD

Pls forgive any mistakes I’m not 100% yet. ^^;

Explanations below the cut~

AnS (c) Akizuki Sorata Witcher (c) Andrzej Sapkowski TW3 models (c) CDPR Art: Me

Disclaimer: I am not a tailor and as such all my opinions are based on preference and evt pushing rules in my favour XD

The main idea with her wardrobe was to underline that whatever she’s doing, Shirayuki is feminine, and wants to present feminine, hence the skirts and ribbons and embroidery. She’s also a person fond of utility, so belts, pockets, and layers that can be added or removed as she fancied, was also an important facet to add. But she’s also bruxae, monster species, so she’s got a few blind spots, so to speak, regarding what is and isn’t proper to wear in human society. But most of all, her clothes make it easy for her to use her bruxa powers to move around swiftly, silently, and with purpose

Around half of these were referenced from the witcher 3 game, with me picking my favourite garb, and what made more sense for her in different situations.

1. Huntress Outfit - this one I made myself, using only some of the basic wardrobe notes from tw3. I’ve a softness for overdresses/kaftans with splits, especially if they’re combined with tights/buckskins. Shirayuki is a poor bruxa living in the woods outside a small human settlement, so she doesn’t have access to a tailor other than on market day, or when peddlers arrive, hence she often has to redesign old/too-small clothing for new purposes. Another point was to reinforce her sleeves, to make it easier to brush away branches and undergrowth, and adding the Skelligan waist shawl, a gift from her half-sister, as recurring themes.

2. Winter Outfit - another I made myself, because I was dying to design something that included a sheepskin jerkin. The waist shawl helps redefine the jerkin and give it a feminine twist, and the wrapped sleeves both reduce noise and keeps her cuffs from leaking precious warmth. The wool tunic could have been a dress, but I wanted to focus on showing off her fur-tucked winter boots and knitted long socks. Shirayuki probably knitted them herself.

3. High Summer Outfit - another self-made design. Made so as to underline her non-humanness, borrowing heavily from witcher elven aesthetics, with lots of exposed skin, crossed fabric, and asymmetrical cuts. This is what she wears when the weather *won’t* allow you to dress decently or you get purged by the sun, basically. Again, since Shirayuki’s often short of fabric, a lot of refashioning going on.

4. Commoner Outfit - A very basic woman’s dress, very presentable, very respectable, especially since Shirayuki is trying to sell the lie that she’s a normal human woman. It’s her go-to outfit for visiting human settlements, or for performing simple chores around the house, such as cooking, sewing, or spinning. Things that keep her in or around her homestead, and not gallivanting in the woods at midnight looking for prey.

5. Relaxing Outfit - merely a dusty day dress pulled over her nightgown, for those chilly nights where Shirayuki doesn’t want to undress for bed until she’s halfway under the covers. When the chores are done and all that’s left to do is sip a cup of blood, read a book beside the hearth and wait for Ryuu to return from his late night wandering, she likes to shed all those layers and relax.

6. Throw-together Outfit - referenced from the game, almost entirely (Keira Metz’ witch model) - save the shoes and headband. After the loss of her home and her more presentable clothing thanks to witcher Obi (who will later admit that yes he does in fact owe her a new dress... and blouse... and apron...) this outfit was assembled through raiding an abandoned witch’s hut. Anything that could suffice as clothing, basically, even the old curtains. Shirayuki doesn’t personally care that some of her *assets* are pretty much on display, but she would like some linen anyway, the cotton does chafe a bit. Aside from the pearl necklace, nothing she’s wearing actually belonged to her in the first place.

7. Formal Commoner Outfit - reffed from the game, (Keira Metz’ second model) the shoes being the sole exception. A dress for special occassions, perhaps May Day, Equinox celebrations, etc. Not that Shirayuki often dared participate in such events, due to the amount of people who show up even in small villages to throw tankards together and dance around bonfires. But she does pilfer the dress from the abandoned witch’s hut anyway, thinking maybe, afterall, since it’s so pretty and it had matching sleeves to go with it... keeping it wasn’t such a dumb idea.

8. Pants Outfit - reffed from the game (juggler npc) A cross between a traveler and a city dweller, a light-weight yet very elegant outfit for strolling in the human cities. The top is presentable enough that she doesn’t look poor as a pauper, while the pants give the impression of someone on the move, a stranger. It also provides the most comfortable riding experience, the few times she does ride, as she has no need for a lady’s saddle.

9. High-Class Outfit - reffed from the game/one of my favourite tw3 modders, (New Sorceress models by Roksa) I only added the shoes and circlet. When Zen has the dress made for her, it is by FAR the most expensive thing she’s ever worn. Not a single thread of the dress isn’t well-made, the dyes are the brightest and most even-coloured, and the silk is light as a touch on her skin. While the dress itself is a demure, feminine dream, what sets the ensemble apart are the dark cat’s eye gems, just hinting at Shirayuki’s darker secrets. They’re set in gold, for obvious, unspoken reasons, as she reacts to silver much like being set on fire...

10. Evening Outfit - reffed from the game, I just changed the necklace (Ida Eméan’s Gwent card art) another very expensive dress, but surprisingly one that Shirayuki tolerates better. No stiff, itchy velvet, no heavy damask, just sheer silk with gold thread (again for reasons obvious to a bruxa) some simple sleeves, and a chain of stones, no gilded jewellry that could empty a bank vault if sold to the right people. She probably takes a fancy to this dress while attempting to woo a certain witcher, which explains the understated beauty, the most daring of cuts, one that screams “look at me, only me” and the simple-at-a-glance design. Much like Shirayuki herself.

11. Skellige Outfit - inspired by the viking-esque game design for Skellige fashion, this dress is for when Shirayuki and her family stay in the Isles, following her sister’s suggestion. A dress that signifies the matron head of a household with its pewter clasps and apron, follows Skellige fashion demanding you wear a shawl with your clan colors (Shirayuki, although clan-less, was given one by Torou) and layers. And armguards. And a split overdress. To show that this is Shirayuki’s choice wear afterall.

#akagami no shirayukihime #ans #snow white with the red hair #shirayuki #witcher!au #in which shirayuki is a bruxa #a sort of all-female vampire #and obi is the witcher #listen I have only been able to sketch so it was only a matter of time before I fell down into the rabbit hole of outfit designs again XD #let's hope I remember to render them later lolol #myart #I also tried to hint to time passing between her outfits #by using different hairstyles #idk if it worked ahahaha

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pot-scenarios · 4 years ago

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Sorry for taking so long to do this but it's finally here! I must say Atobe, Tezuka and Sanada are my babies and I had a lot of fun doing this. Because Atobe is way to extra and Sanada is way to awkward XD

Atobe:

• He's the most open about acknowledging it. Kind of "Oh okay, Ore-sama has a crush. How do I get them?"

• And then he goes all out:

- Remember that time they mentioned they kind of wanted a new phone because the camera lens was dusty and they couldn't find time to clean it? Now they have a new phone.

- Remember when they said their PC was a bit slow? Yup. Now they have a new computer.

- Remember that time they asked for a pony for Christmas? Guess what... They really need to tell Atobe to stop. For the sake of common sense.

If they don't ask him to stop, he WON'T. Clothes, tech, trips, whatever they ask for they have it.

• Now. If they tell him to stop, they will. And if they see that buying things isn't working or that they are just accepting out of politeness, he'll find some other ways to woe them.

• And then he goes all out. Again:

- Flowers on their desk EVERY morning

- Picking them up from home and then taking them back there on his limusine. (May have taken them to school on Sunday accidentally once. Who knows.)

- The most expensive Belgian chocolates

- Going down their window to recite them poetry on a white horse

So basically now he has forsaken the "Let's be a sugar daddy" for the "let's be a romantic gentleman".

And really. Atobe. Just. Ask them out.

• "Wait. I didn't?"

"Atobe. You literally only had to ask and all of this is completely unnecessary"

"So... You'll go out with Ore-sama, right?"

*Sigh* "Yes. Yes I will."

• And at this point, his s/o isn't even surprised that he rented out a whole theatre for just the two of them.

• Having said that. If his s/o REALLY hates it. He will be a bit more low-key. He knows better that being way too pushy on them.

Tezuka:

• He takes some time to acknowledge it. Confusing his feelings at first with admiration. Until all his team is basically calling his crush "his partner" and Tezuka tells them they're not dating. That's when he realises. "Oh. I'd... Actually like that, though."

• His teammates try to give him advice. He hangs up on them every time. Even in person. He knows better than to trust them with any kind of love advice.

• His courtship is a lot more subdued. Asking to walk them home at first, and if that's met with acceptance he'll try to ask for a date. Something non-commiting like going to a museum or hiking or fishing if his crush is into it. Something he can always say "just as friends" if he sees reluctance.

• Once he goes past that, and he sees that his s/o is comfortable enough with hanging out with him he'd finally ask them out officially. "Next trip... Would it be fine if we make it a date?"

Sanada:

• His crush finds out he has a crush before he himself realises. And once he does he's in complete denial. "Yukimura, I don't have time for such non-sense" "Renji, your data is clearly wrong this time" "Akaya fifty laps around the courts!"

• At some point he just has to accept it though. Because he loses his breath every time his crush talks to him and there's no way that THAT isn't a crush.

• And what does he do about it? Nothing. He just tries to be the less awkward he can. Which isn't much. Because if his crush as much as smiles at him he hides behind his cap so no-one sees him blushing.

• They study together, and have dates which are basically Yukimura and Renji asking them out and then "Oops we had plans. Have fun the two of you." Someone bless this two.

• And then one day he finally gathers the strength and confesses with a: "(S/o/N), I... I know I'm not the best at this kind of things but... Would you... Would you give me the chance to date you?"

• And really, it was about time and his s/o should have probably confessed first and saved him the internal struggle. But it's been worth it. Because once he confesses he knows that he's 100% sure that they are the person he wants by his side.

#atobe keigo #sanada genichirou #tezuka kunimitsu #prince of tennis #tenipuri #headcanons

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gorgeousgalatea · 3 years ago

Note

For the fanfiction writer asks: 2, 5, 12, 33, 40, and 47. And as for the title - "The Finer Things (Are Finite Things)."

2) What fandoms do you write for and do you have a particular favourite if you write for more than one?

“Write” is a strong word right now unfortunately. RWBY remains my most prolific fandom at least; despite my tenuous relationship with canon I haven’t had anything seize my plotbunny interest to the same degree, although I have scattered wips for The Magnus Archives, Genshin Impact, Witch Hat Atelier, Resident Evil, Arcane, and Thor: the Dark World. Pluuuus some dusty old posted wips for Avatar the Last Airbender and Katekyo Hitman Reborn I still feel guilty about never finishing. But yeah, RWBY’s still the top dog right now.

5) If you had to choose a favourite out of all of your multi chaptered stories, which would it be and why?

On average my more recent (...for a given value of ‘recent’) multi-chaptered fics are all ideas I got heavily invested in and prooobably have yet to finish, so favorites are hard. I guess I would go with Ten Things About the Vongola Family by dint that I can pretend it’s finished. Although it technically isn’t and is also a list fic rather than an ongoing narrative...Apology Not Included is actually finished, let’s say that. Even though two chapters is probably also cheating.

12) Who is your favourite character to write for? Why?

If I’ve written their POV it probably means they’re a favorite XD Qrow has sass for days and I love writing quips, Raven has the kind of morally reprehensible self justification that is my jam, Ozpin and Salem are opposite sides of some really juicy immortality studies...I’m a huge fan of snark, moral ambiguity and angst, really.

Although shoutout to Rokudo Mukuro from Katekyo Hitman Reborn several fandoms back who happened to be a body hopping, conniving, morally bankrupt illusionist whose abilities stemmed from several lifetimes of reincarnation contained in an eye that may have been implanted in him by the abusive cadre of mad scientists he wiped out in revenge, who after a stint as an antagonist became an ally by necessity while having maybe three standards and showing absolutely no remorse whatsoever and goddamn if that isn’t a ridiculous number of my favorite things all rolled into a single character.

33) What’s the biggest compliment you’ve gotten?

There’s been so many super sweet ones, I can’t choose! The one I get the biggest buzz from are the ones that say my characterization is on point, because that’s what I really strive for, but it also gives me the warm fuzzies when people pull their favorite quotes or engage with the narrative because that really gives me the sense that my writing managed to resonate with them emotionally. Compliments, man. They’re great.

40) Do people know you write fanfiction?

I don’t hide it but I don’t volunteer the information either. And chances are anyone who has to ask is not someone I would feel comfortable having read most of my fic lol

47) Here’s a fic title - insert a made up title. What would this story be about?

The Finer Things (Are Finite Things)

Hmm, I’d say this sounds like an Ozpin identity study? The give-and-take in identity between immortal and incarnation, and the value of a singular lifetime--knowing that things are capable of ending when he has a mission and an enemy that refuse to. And to toss some shipping into it, how Qrow’s Semblance emphatically draws attention to the finite in a way Ozpin is uniquely qualified to appreciate...and as I write this I realize that this is less a specific story idea and more just the shipping dynamic I work with, oops I hope that is okay @_@

#ask meme #don't mind me just nattering on about stuff #thank youuuu sorry that last one took me a whille lol

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deepperplexity · 4 years ago

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Prompt: 17. Loneliness

A/N: We are getting closer to the end of Snapemas and I wanted to write something I haven't done earlier through this prompt list. Fair warning, it is a bit sad... But I feel like this is yet another subject to shine some light on. There are some cute/sweet parts too! (Written on mobile so the paragraphs are a bit wonky, sorry 'bout that!)

Setting: Christmas party at the Burrow, Snape is approximately 85-90 years old

Characters: MANY xD

Word count: 1814

Warnings: Major Character Death

Masterlist page // Masterlist post // SNAPEMAS POST

After the war, so many years ago, Harry had told everyone of his exceptional work and dedication. He had been celebrated as a hero along with many others. He was acknowledged and people were not so frightened of him back then as they had been earlier. They nodded at him on the streets, the students had asked him to tell them stories more times than he could remember and he had made friends and amends.

Yet, none had found him to be of romantic interest. None had found him worthy of their time and love. None had found him to be partner material and he had never had a romantic relationship. One night stands, sure. But no relationship of mutual love, not a single person to share his life and home with. He had thought, he had hoped, that one day someone would find him worthy but it had never happened.

So there he was, sat in a wonky armchair surrounded by other families and everything brimmed with joy. Except he felt none. He was empty and sad, alone in the world. He knew all too well that once the party was over he would go back to his dusty home and silence would fall again. As it always did. He would cook for one, do laundry for one, clean only the spaces he used and the morning coffee would always be shipped in solitude. Not that it will continue for much longer, old as I am and my body giving way. He allowed the thought to linger. Sure, he could make potions, keep his health up and live to 150 probably. But what was the point of that?

"Severus, dinner is nearly ready. Shall I ask Ron to help you get seated?" It was Hermione who spoke to him with a soft smile on her lips as she marched over.

"I am quite alright to get seated on my own," he huffed with a slight sneer but Hermione only rolled her eyes.

"Everyone, it time to eat!" She called so loudly it could be heard all the way through the Burrow. Just as Molly's voice had once been heard even in the smallest of corners and highest of rooms.

"Come on now, up you get," she said and grabbed him with strong arms.

She marched him over to the table as his back ached terribly and his knees refused to function smoothly. She plopped him down and he sneered at her.

"There we go," she said with a smile as she patted his shoulder.

"Now, don't be a Grinch and smile." Severus could not help but do as he was told since it was nearly a tradition for her to utter those words. She gave his shoulder another pat as the table was swarmed by several generations and it was extremely cramped. But Hermione always made sure he had enough space, even if the newest generation always wanted to crawl all over him. Why? He had no idea. Perhaps all the stories their parents and grandparents had told them of the war, of his part in it.

"Granma' 'mione" Hermione turned at the little girl who stood next to her leg.

"What is it dearie?" The granddaughter of Harry and Ginny had clearly inherited her looks from the Weasley side of the family with her red sparkling hair and twinkling eyes of mischief.

"I wanna sit here," the girl said and pointed to the chair next to Severus. Hermione smiled.

"I think your father wants to sit here," she said and the little girl pouted while Hermione smiled so widely her eyes wrinkled even more.

"Bu' I wanna sit by Uncle Sevy!" She stomped her foot with an angry expression and Hermione sighed.

After a while, and some bickering about who would sit where, everyone had a place in the recently remodelled and extended dining hall of the Burrow. Hermione had done a great deal to fix up the place as she and Ron were the only ones who wanted the place when Molly and Arthur had passed away from old age. Severus had helped with some magical binding spells and such but he had not been able to do much as his body did not age well. Hermione always said it was because he didn't allow enough joy and exercise in his life and he always huffed at the words. But lately, lately everyone had seemed more worried about him and comments like that had stopped coming. He suspected it was because he was truly old and brittle now.

"Well go ask-"

"Of course you shall sit by my side you little trickster," Severus said with a thunderous voice and the girl beamed at him before she quickly crawled up on the chair and Hermione simply scooted her in closer to the table as Albus came in.

"That's my seat!" He said and he played the shocked parent role as his daughter laughed on a giggle.

"Uncle Sevy said I get so sit with him," she giggled with a proud expression and Albus shook his head in defeat as his daughter, being merely 5 years old, was as headstrong as any child could possibly be.

"There is room for everyone," Hermione chided and Albus took the seat next to his daughter as the chair on the other side of Severus had already been claimed by the grandchild of Hermione and Ron, one of Hugo's daughters. Little Mary. She was a quiet child, as in she did not speak unless it was an absolute necessity, but very attentive and brilliant in her own way.

The chaos of Christmas dinner ensued after some thanks had been said for everyone's attendance, and the children begged for their gifts to be delivered after dinner. Hermione, the boss of them all, had shut it down with a few chosen words. So they all started to eat, talk and laugh again. The house was truly filled to the brim with them all. Three generations, four if you counted Severus as a separate one, which surely made sense?

The food was delightful, the children as well. The adults were in the middle of various conversations while helping the little ones. Severus kept a close eye on the two little ones closest to him and helped them as much as he could while Albus's daughter blabbered about gifts, school and the new pyjamas her mom had given her a week earlier - apparently, it had reindeer on it and that was obviously very important to tell him. On his other side sat Hugo's daughter in silence for a long time as she gently ate and listened to the conversations around her. She was also 5 years old and yet she seemed very different from the rest of the children. Less out there and more closed of. Severus found himself to be very attentive to her, even when the other children and adults called for his attention he still had her under his gaze.

Once the table was cleared and the squadron of Weasleys and Weasley-related people had moved out to the living room while the Potters and Potter-related people trailed after Severus was still sat by the table. He was looking out the window as snow fell silently in tiny little glittering flakes. Someone tugged on his sleeve. Hugo's daughter, Marry, wanted his attention. He glanced down at her.

"Yes?" His tone was as gruff as always yet there was a hint of a surprise in there somewhere. Mary looked intently at him, unflinching and unwavering.

"Can I sit?" She pointed to his lap and Severus opened his arms so the girl could climb up into his lap. It was an odd feeling. Not that the children didn't do it, even the previous generation had wanted to sit in his lap - well that time it was harder to accept but eventually, he had learnt to deal with having children crawl all over him. No this was an odd feeling as Mary never wanted to sit in a lap, be hugged or held in any way. She wanted no physical contact with others when it wasn't on her terms. And everyone respected that (even though he knew it hurt her mother deeply). But she snuggled into him, her knees raised as she leaned her side into his chest and he wrapped his arms around her gently. They both looked out the window in silence for a moment.

"Does it hurt?" she asked and Severus arched a brow at her. He was still rather good at that.

"Does what hurt?" he asked and the girl ever so slightly tilted her head.

"Life." Severus gawked at the girl. His mouth slightly open as that was in no way a question someone so young should ask.

"I saw it," she whispered, "the hurt, the bad people." Mary fidgeted with her fingers as she looked down.

"You saw it? Severus asked and she nodded silently.

"Would you like to tell me?" he asked and she nodded again.

"What did you see?" He asked and she peaked up at him.

"I see all kinds of things," she said softly, " some good, some bad, some make me sad. Like you. When I see things from you it makes me sad. You seem sad. It hurts," she said and Severus was quite surprised at how well-spoken she was for her age - and the fact she barely talked.

"Is that so?" She nodded at his words. He gave her a small smile.

"Well, you see Mary, life is difficult. Life is hard. But it is also beautiful," he said as he struggled to find words the little child could understand and also not to tell her too much.

"There are good people and bad people, there is love and hate. Some choose the wrong path and end up at the wrong place," he continued as they both yet again looked out the window.

"I don't understand. You are good but your life was bad? Wasn't it?" Her direct words cut through him harshly yet he smiled as she called him good. Children, unlike adults, said what they thought and felt. No filtering. Just honesty.

"True, my life was not easy-"

"And grandpa's pa was mean to you. But you like grandpa? You protected him? I don't understand." Severus stiffened, how do you know that?

"Mary, can I ask, what exactly do you see?"

"Well, I-" a burst of loud laughter broke through their little bubble and Mary jump a little as she grabbed on to Severus.

She relaxed again, "well I see what has happened, what might happen too. Sometimes it's really clear but sometimes it's hard to see. It's, foggy. I think that is the things that might happen."

"I think you're right," Severus murmured. Maybe she's a seer?

"Have you talked to your parents?" Mary shook her head, "Is this why you don't want to be touched?" Mary nodded, "do you see things about people more often when they touch you?" he continued in a steady, unwavering rhythm of his thunderous yet low voice. Mary nodded again.

"I see."

"That's my line," Mary said with an attempt at a smile. Severus smiled and gave her leg a little pat.

Yet, a thought occurred to him.

"May I ask, why you are willing to sit with me?" Mary tensed ever so slightly.

"Do you want to know?" Severus nodded sharply. He did indeed want to know even though he had a hunch.

"I don't see more foggy things from you and it feels, feels different. Feels like there is no more." Severus sighed, he understood her words. He had felt life slip away the past year as well.

"And the bad stuff, there is not so much bad left in them. Have you, hrm... I don't know the word."

"Accepted them and moved passed it?" Mary nodded that that was what she meant, "I believe so, I believe I've come to terms with those things in the past."

"But not the loneliness, I see it. The empty house. The coffee cup." Severus sighed at that.

After a moment of silence where Mary curled up even more and leaned her head against his chest that rose and sunk with every breath.

"I'm gonna miss you," she said in a hushed whisper. He gently stroked the top of her head, a coldness spread through him as the realisation truly hit him. He was nearing the end of what was his life. And who knew what waited beyond the border between eh living and dead; certainly not he.

"I will miss you as well. But I won't go far," he said softly and she chuckled ever so slightly.

"You shake when you talk uncle Sevy," she said, "it feels nice."

"Well, I have a deep voice. It happens," Severus said with a tired yet warm smile as he relaxed with her in his lap.

"It's nice," Mary whispered and after a moment he felt her body grow heavy as she silently fell asleep cradled in his arms.

It took several minutes before Hermione appeared in the doorway, just outside of Severus view as he was watching the snowfall outside still. She silently beckoned Ron, Hugo and Hugo's wife Ellie to come over. She pointed towards Severus and little Marry who was slumbering deeply. They all had wide smiles over their lips as they watched the scene.

"She's, she's in his arms," Ellie whispered on a suffocated sob. Hugo hugged his wife gently as tears gleamed in his eyes as well. Hermione stepped over as silently as she could.

"I'll take her," she whispered and Severus arched a brow at her.

"She's fine here," he said as he actually did not want to let the little girl go. Not for his sake, no, but for her sake. Little Mary, who never got human contact without an ensuing anxiety attack or crying. Little Mary, only five years old, who had to see things none should. Not only the one life she lived but everyone else's as well. He held her softly and Hermione nodded.

"I'll check on you in a moment," she said and he nodded ever so slightly. Hermione left and took the rest of the crowd that had gathered with her before she closed the door and left Severus in solitude with the sleeping child cradled ever so gently in his embrace.

When Hermione came back over an hour later Mary was sleeping even deeper. Her little hand splayed over Severus's chest and her head slightly tilted where it rested against his arm. she was heavy ad his legs had fallen asleep but he did not mind, no he did not mind one bit as Mary had a tiny smile on her lips as she slept peacefully.

"Should we put her to bed?" Hermione whispered and Severus nodded with a small smile. It was indeed time to let go. Hermione skillfully snuck her arms in under Mary, but the little girl stopped smiling instantly. Hermione swiftly walked out with the little girl as Hugo entered the room with Ellie in tow.

"Thank you," Ellie whispered as she silently cried tears of joy.

"How did you manage to get her to sit in your lap? Please, tell us," Hugo said and Severus gave the couple a tired smile.

"She asked, I obliged," he simply stated. They looked a bit confused at that. But Severus ignored it.

"You have a gifted daughter," he said, "and I do not mean that in the general spew people cast about when it comes to children. I truly mean, she is gifted. You ought to speak with her, and get help." This seemed to both concern and confuse the couple. Severus allowed his gaze to glide over to the window. An old man's pleasure, to look at the world outside.

"What, what do you mean, Severus?" Hugo asked as he crouched beside him.

"She's a seer," he simply stated.

"A, a seer?" Ellie asked as she sat down on a chair next to Severus.

"Indeed, and physical contact gives her more visions. visions of the past, the present, the future. It's all quite much for suck a young girl. You ought to get her help, allow her to explore and train her ability before it hurts her even more," Severus said and he did try his hardest to do so in a gentle way.

"She told you?" Severus nodded at Hugo's words.

"She, she never told us she, we just thought she, was special. Had special needs..." Ellie sobbed and Hugo looked as if he was devising a plan. Severus did not really concern himself with it as he knew he would not be here long enough to see what happened. He had felt it, and with Mary's words, he knew it. It was all ending.

Once Harry had dropped Severus off at his home and apparated back to the Burrow Severus sagged in the hallway. He was exhausted and he felt as if he could sleep for weeks. It was indeed a struggle to just undress and get ready for bed. But once he was properly tucked in while wearing his most comfortable nightshirt he slowly drifted off to the world of dreams. Little Mary's smiling face greeted him and she took his hand in hers. It was warm and soft, gentle as she tugged him through a field of sunflowers that echoed with children's laughter and the softest of music lingered in the wind.

The living room was filled with talk about Mary as Severus felt himself grow even more tired.

"Severus, would you like Harry to take you home?" Ginny asked with a gentle smile as she walked up to him.

"I presume that would be in order," Severus said and Ginny immediately told Harry who got dressed in coat and boots as Ginny helped Severus get dressed. He felt such disgrace at being such an ordeal but Ginny kept telling him it was no trouble and that they loved to have him with them. He could not fathom why and did not dare to question it as that might have changed their minds. They were, after all, the closest thing he had to a family. How it came about he still could not quite understand but it had happened at another Christmas party many years ago.

His breathing slowed as he found peace. His heart stopped beating as he felt warmth and joy spread through his younger body in the world of dreams and love. His soul drifted away, led by Mary's sweet smile as she called for him to come home and be free. All that was him left the world of the living and his body that still had a face etched with a soft smile. As he stepped over the border and embraced eternity Mary let go of his hand. And he knew, knew he would see her again, in many years when she was old and wise. When she had lived her life he would great her with a smile as he was no longer lonely and cold.

Masterlist page // Masterlist post // SNAPEMAS POST

Uffh, this hurt to write but at the same time, I really wanted to try my hand at this kind of sorrow and joy... This older version of Severus, this lonely version who never got a chance at love in life. but who still managed to find joy and peace in the end.

I hope you guys liked this despite it being dark/sad and different <3

Tags: @lizlil @snapefiction @morphineisouthoney @setsuna-meiou31 @snapefiction @monstreviolet

[Dec:2020]

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avenger-hawk · 4 years ago

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Tagged by @altraes (thank you, it was fun to do this~)

List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

(I wrote the first paragraphs because my first lines alone don’t make much sense lol)

1- ACQUIESCENCE (Minato/Itachi) my first fic ever. darkish but just a little, angsty. I’m proud of it cause another author wrote a sequel to it.

to ac·qui·esce: to accept, agree, or allow something to happen by staying silent or by not arguing. A flurry of leaves, swept away by the autumn wind, caught the Hokage's attention while he took off his large hat. That time of the year should have been warmer.

2- THE WILL OF FIRE (Shiita, Danzo/Shisui, Danzo/Itachi) This was dark and shiita fans didn’t like it lol.

Just like his owner, Danzo's studio was dark and dusty. The man didn't look as old as Hiruzen, but he was twice as scary; thus would think a boy of Itachi's age. Not him. He was not allowed to be afraid.

3- WHAT HE WANTED (Itasasu) Even tho I rewrote it cause I didn’t like how I initially characterized them and their dynamics this is my most popular fic. Maybe because it’s a post-ending, canon divergent, fix-it kind of story. Maybe because it’s Itasasu and I put so much love into writing their dynamics and, also, in giving Sasuke a good ending since canon didn’t do him justice.

Sasuke is where everybody wants him to be: in Konoha. With the battle and the arm he also lost the urge to fight. He's had enough of traveling. He's tired of chasing and being chased. So tired that even if he meant every word about starting a revolution, being the Hokage and build a new era, he had wondered, though only for a moment, if he would be able to really accomplish such tasks all by himself.

4- IN POWER WE ENTRUST THE LOVE ADVOCATED (Itasasu) THis is my second most popular fic. This one too was written after the ending and tried to give Sasuke justice. I planned to write a sequel but I got busy with other projects and lost interest in it.

The gates open, letting the shinobi in after a successfully completed mission. Being on duty the following day Sasuke declines his team mates' proposal to have dinner together, the reddish sunset light forcing him to squint as he walks towards the Hokage's office.

5- PRESSURE (Itasasu) Taken from In Power that can be read as a standalone oneshot.

Itachi wakes up to the sound of pouring water.

6- IN DREAMS (Itasasu, Izuna/Sasuke, DARKFIC). This is one of the darkest things I wrote. The Izuna/Sasuke crackpair was for @admiral-izusasu. The plot, the dynamics, everything has a double, or triple reading, plot related and metaphorical for other, real-life issues such as knowing people online, and emotional abuse from narcissistic people. I wrote it when I was fighting against one of these psychos, on tumblr itself, so this fic has a personal meaning for me. But also the plot and the canon divergent ending thing is cool, I think it’s one of my best fics, even though I coulnd’t care less about izuna.

They say that nature will always find a way. After the end of the war flowers keep blooming like nothing happened even if the light is fainter, filtered from the tall branches of the Shinju tree, now grown into a forest spread all over the world.

7- SOMBER CREATION PALE DESTRUCTION (Madara/Sasuke dom/sub-ish). Darkish? Who knows, I write darkfish stuff all the time. I was (and am) very proud of this fic, the canon divergent turn it took (who am I kidding, it’s really cool lol) and the weird relationship/dynamics these 2 created. So I didn’t update it anymore, because doing so would break their thin balance. Ssssh, don’t tell me it doesn’t make sense, I don’t believe you xD

History teaches that Madara Uchiha died at the hands of Hashirama Senju. Their statues were erected in the Valley Of The End where their battle was fought, where the shinobi god ended his best friend's life in order to protect the village they founded together. No one knows that Madara didn't die there.

8- IN THE DARK (kakashi/Sasuke, mob/Sasuke noncon). This is a very dark oneshot that I’m proud of, cause it ‘explains’ canon Sasuke personality in Shinden and later, and that I use as prequel for many fics, like WHW but also OFAF and Broken Things (see later for both).

Things never went as Sasuke wanted. After the war it's no different, although everything seems fine at first, Team 7 finally at peace with each other, the war ended and the village that Itachi protected, even as a dead man, safe. Nevertheless he is arrested when he's still in the hospital.

9- VICTIMS OF PEACE (Shisui/Sasuke dom/sub-ish) I am so proud of this fic, of its non massacre universe, of the dark-ish slow burn relationship between Shisui and Sasuke I wrote, tentatively at first cause no one did it or thought much about it, and because that non massacre filler was bad, but still it was inspiration. I know shiita fans hated me even more for this cause shisui is only paired with itachi, and also itachi/itasasu fans were disappointed but still. This is maybe the fic I’m most proud of.

If a traveler arrived from a random village in the Fire Country he would certainly notice how different Konoha was. He would not be able to pinpoint exactly why at first, because the buildings, houses and shops are similar, just like their gardens, fields and animals. Only after some thought he would understand that the difference is in their people: other villagers are relaxed and casual, even loud. Children run around the streets, chasing each other, playing tag or hide-and-seek. Their fathers bring them presents and their mothers buy them new clothes.

10- OF FEATHERS AND FANGS (DARK Narusasu) I received a lot of hate for this one, which makes me proud of it even more. so many naruto stans were butthurt by my characterization of him as a possessive not sunshine selfless boy and their dynamics as crazy.

Jiraiya used to complain that the first sign of getting old was waking up at night for no reason and not being able to fall back asleep. For Naruto, this only happened after the war.

11- BLACK ROSES (Itasasu, dom/sub-ish) Smutty Bloody Darky Hokage Itachi/Anbu Sasuke oneshot

Because of his farsighted politics, his loyalty towards his allies as well as his iron fist against his enemies, Itachi quickly became one of the most respected leaders in the shinobi world, and because of his unequaled diplomatic skills, along with his vast culture, impeccable manners and refined appearance, he became popular among nobles, including the Daimyo, whose official visits increased since the Uchiha rose to power.

12- NELL’IPOTESI GRANDE (=IN THE BIG HYPOTHESIS) (MetaMoro, not Naruto) I’m very proud of this one cause it’s a psycho-pass inspired longfic set in a retrofuturistic Italy with a totalitarian consumeristic regime. But that fandom is so shitty and they all hate me cause I called them homophobic fascists so no one cares. The excerpt is translated too.

He’s reminded of Pirandello’s* words as he’s riding the automatic taxi across the city, exiting the center towards EUR. COmpared to Milan with its skyscrapers, multilevel streets, automatic cars and incessant novelties, the capital is basically the same as it was portrayed in old illustrations: renaissance and 20th century buildings, seagulls, pines among the Roman ruins, sycamore trees on the Lungotevere, that was probably already busy with traffic when people travelled on horse carriages. (*an Italian writer)

13- DA UOMO A UOMO, MANO NELLA MANO (from man to man, hand in hand) (Metamoro) lol I was hated a lot for this one too. tbh the hate I received in the Naruto fandom is nothing compared to this other shitty fandom

For an artist like Fabrizio, mainly focused on expressing what he has inside, public relations are the hardest part of his job, especially when it’s about events where, instead of fans, of whom he perceives the sincere affection, other artists and professionals are invited. His experience taught him that most of them are hypocrites ready to jump on the winner’s bandwagon as quickly as to throw mud at the loser.

14- STRENGTH THROUGH WOUNDING (wip) (Obito/Sasuke, Obito/Itachi, dark.-ish)

There is something nostalgic in the eerie way the boy's screams resonate through the dark cavern-like hideout, their pain bouncing from one curved wall to another, their anguish filling their crevices. It’s like hearing his past self from an external perspective, like Madara did. Which is fitting, for Obito is Madara now.

15- WORDS UNSAID (wip) (Kakashi/Sasuke)

A black flame that cannot be extinguished: they had been warned about Amaterasu by Jiraiya, but seeing it was impressive nevertheless. The whole area was surrounded by black flames and the rain pouring hard could nothing against it. They found Sasuke there, surrounded, imprisoned by black flames that were extinguishing themselves, so they found a breach.

16- BLEEDING ME (Metamoro vampire/priest darkfic) No one can understand this in the Naruto fandom but it’s an AU interpretation of the Da UOMO A UOMO character dynamics where one is an emotional vampire-like person. I’m very proud of this fic tbh.

According to folk stories the forest was so big and full of dangers that God himself put a church where it ended, so that its priest would protect the people living nearby. It was a small, white building that didn’t match the typical stones and wood brownish ones of that region, with no stained glass windows or fancy columns, spires or gargoyles, only crosses with skulls and bones, and an engraving in an unknown language.

17- WILD CHILD (Metamoro cop/drug dealer AU). At this point I hate that fandom so much but I like my ideas and I write only for my girl whom I met in that very shitty fandom.

Everything seems bigger in children’s eyes. Like the playground in the courtyard of the church, with its slides and swings that for Ermal’s siblings were the setting of countless imaginary adventures which they told him in detail, enthusiastically interrupting each other, when he picked them up after school.

18- TRUE COLORS (Itasasu, dark, dom/sub) By now I’m only interested in writing dark IS and I enjoyed writing this one lol

"I knew you had it in you. You're a sadistic control freak. Even more than me." Orochimaru's voice resounded in Itachi's ears. Again.

19- OF FEATHERS AND FANGS 2: TO REPAIR WITH GOLD (Dark Narusasu). Cause I didn’t piss off NS fans enough I guess? lol this is ongoing and I like this idea so much

It's a rainy day in Konoha but no one seems to notice. Everyone is focused on the Hokage delivering his eulogy.

20- BROKEN THINGS (Shisui/Sasuke) My latest creation, I’m so proud of it cause it’s Shisasu again, my rarepair! and it was supposed to be a oneshot but it got longer because they have such a cool dynamic that things just happen and get longer.

In the Land of Water summers were hot and damp, autumn and spring were damp for the frequent rains and winter was no less, with its cold temperature and ubiquitous dampness. It wasn't a problem for Sasuke though.

Tagging: @renamon15 and all the other authors I can’t remember right now and who want to do this, tag me back so I can read your first lines lol

#I'm not reading nar fics so xD #I'm actually back into reading my old favourite bleach fics cause I used to be into bleach so much before naruto #ask meme/tag game #my writing #fics & art recs #lol for some reason the pressure first line seems funny out of context

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sheyshocked · 4 years ago

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Of golden mirrors and secret admirers (2/6)

Summary: Simon learns something new about Markus.

Ship: Simon/Markus (Detroit: Become Human)

Warnings: None

A/N: I think I enjoyed writing this chapter way too much XD

At any rate, the next chapter will be posted on the next Sunday (it’s gonna be a Valentine’s day. I’m still thinking about writing something special for my boys, even though I don’t technically celebrate it - but it’s kinda Simon’s birthday and so on... Well, we shall see about that). Until then, hope you enjoy this chapter, and see you next time!

Markus was nowhere to be found at the market the very next day, and neither was North. She would usually have her own stall there, selling venison and all sorts of hides she wasn’t able to get rid of during the week. That day, however, her favorite selling spot stayed vacant.

Simon had a pretty good idea of what was going on, but still, he left himself the luxury of doubt. Maybe North has sold everything earlier than expected and was gone hunting. Perhaps Markus has already been here. Probably…

But even that flick of a hope was taken away from him when he met Bouchard, the merchant who was supplying Markus’ father with expensive paints and canvas from the capital city every once in a while.

“Excuse me, sir?” he stopped him right in his tracks. “Have you seen the young Mr. Manfred today? Guys told me he has been here about an hour ago, but left with that crude huntress of his without even visiting me, and I still have a package waiting for him…” He stopped himself almost mid-sentence, staring at Simon’s face. “Sir? Are you alright? You seem rather pale.”

To put it lightly. Simon could feel all of his blood rushing away from his cheeks, leaving only sickly ashen shade behind, like a sheet of paper smeared with something greasy. He had to shake his head to get rid of all the unsettling thoughts.

His spell has worked. He should be glad that Markus was happy. But he wasn’t. And he despised himself because of it.

He faked a smile once again. Just a few more and he will eventually get the hang of it. “It’s only a mild fever, nothing to worry about. This season and its chilly weather always keeps me up on my toes. But you know what? Give me that package. I wanted to visit the Manfred estate later this day anyway, so why not deliver it? It’s already paid for, right?”

“Aye. Wouldn’t trust anyone else, but since it’s you, sir… here you go.” Bouchard vanished for a few seconds underneath the stall, only to reemerge again with a surprisingly small packet. He handed it over to Simon like it was some sort of a treasure.

“Thank you, Bouchard. Take care.”

To tell the truth, he had no intention of going over to Markus’ father today. He already gave him his prescribed medication for these two weeks. But a short friendly visit certainly wouldn’t hurt, right? Besides, he could use a walk to clear out his head before delving straight back into the more serious part of the day.

After buying some essentials and quickly dropping them home, taking only the package from Bouchard with him, he headed to the Manfred estate.

He always used to like the old, dusty road leading to the large house by the river. It wound through several fields beneath a steep hill, and on top of which was an ancient oak. Not a single one of the old villagers remembered who planted the tree and when, only that it was there long before the first settlers. In any case, Simon felt a strange magical energy surrounding it whenever he came near. Perhaps it should be more concerning, but instead, it felt almost… soothing. Like resting in the arms of a beloved parent. Needless to say, Simon loved hanging out there every now and then.

This time, however, the place seemed to be occupied.

Voices were coming from the top of the hill, loud and clear, and Simon froze up when he realized one of them belonged to Markus.

“Could you please try to squirm less? This isn’t easy, you know?” He sounded genuinely frustrated, maybe even a little bit upset with the other person. That was so unlike him Simon was brimming with curiosity.

He knew it was none of his business and that he should probably move along, but when he heard the sound of a girly giggle and a gentle smack, he simply had to know what the hell was happening there, against his better sense telling him to leave it be.

He slowly climbed up the hill, sneaking like a damn thief, only to get a sight of… the most peculiar scene.

The first thing he caught a glimpse of was Markus, sitting on the ground in the grass with his back turned toward him, tilting his head left and right every once in a while. Only then he noticed North crouching in front of him in a strange, stiff position that was putting her body on a display.

She had her long hair loose, flowing down on her slender shoulders, which was a major difference from her usual messy ponytail or a braid, and was sticking out her tongue at her friend, as if she was taunting him.

Simon still had no idea what was going on, but he certainly was intruding on something. His first instinct was to dart to hide. Unfortunately, he was no match for North’s eagle eye.

“Markus, we have a company,” she hissed at her companion who glanced up like she woke him from a pleasant dream. To Simon, he looked no different than usual. Maybe his eyes shone a little bit brighter, or his smile grew a tiny bit wider, but it was still the same old him. Lovable as always.

“Who?” he asked, glancing around, until he too noticed Simon, who wished the ground would swallow him whole. But to his surprise, Markus didn’t seem annoyed to see him. Quite the opposite. He hastily straightened himself up, knocking over a sketchbook and a pencil, which tumbled to the grass.

Posing, North has been posing for him as a model, the mage has realized.

A blush was dusting Markus’ face as he waved at the mage. “Oh, hello, sir! We were just about to finish!”

“Finally! Thought I’d never see the day,” North grinned and slowly got up, stretching her arms and legs while doing so. “Anyway, I should get going. I still have to skin that boar from yesterday. Enjoy yourselves.”

She gave Markus a wink and a pat on the shoulder before wandering off back to the village, leaving her friend awkwardly sitting on the ground with an equally uncomfortable mage.

Simon, like the nice person he was (definitively not some creepy guy caught spying on the Far Water’s youngsters), picked up the sketchbook from the grass it fell to without even peeking to see the drawings in it, and handed it over to its owner. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you two. It’s just… I had no idea you are also an artist.”

Markus was truly adorable when he was blushing. His blush, dark and barely noticeable if one didn’t know what to look out for, didn’t stop at his cheeks, but instead continued to the tips of his ears, and even his shoulders… Simon longed to trace it with his fingertips but talked himself out of it. It’d be totally uncalled for, what would Markus think of him? So he kept his distance, careful not to even brush fingers as he gave him back his sketchbook.

“Well… they say it runs in the family. Carl, I mean, my dad taught me a lot. Says I have a real talent for art.” He paused, shyly glancing up at Simon, who was hovering over him with a package still in hand. “Wanna take a look, sir?”

Simon shrugged. He was dying to see the boy’s craft but was worried to come across as too forceful. Markus had now a girlfriend to worry about, he supposed. “Sure, I would be honored to.”

It was refreshing to see how eagerly the young man patted the ground next to him, motioning Simon to come join him in the grass. And he did, after some hesitating, but not too close to touch.

Markus showed him the drawing of North he has been working on right before he walked in on them, and well… it was simply marvelous. Everything, from the delicate line of North’s bottom lip to her thick auburn hair, looked almost like the original. There was something intriguing about the sketch that made Simon’s soul sing (much like the young man himself).

However, it wasn’t the only picture of North in the sketchbook. Far from it.

There were several more well-made portraits, perfectly capturing the huntress’ current mood, be it happiness or thoughtfulness, and also a few funny doodles and caricatures (some of them were crossed out or accompanied by angry notes, saying things like: “Set this page on fire, or else I will shoot you in the ass next time I see you!”) Childish bickering of two turtledoves.

“You draw North a lot,” he noted in a small, faltering voice, and Markus blushed even harder, confirming his suspicion.

“Yeah, she’s one of the few people willing to pose for me. It takes a lot of time and others get bored easily because I don’t talk much while drawing, but the sketches are better that way, and overall, it’s great for practice.”

“I see. Practice.” Simon didn’t quite believe him, but went along with it regardless, moving on to the next page.

He recognized the faces of several other villagers, including Markus’ father, Bouchard, and that poor orphaned boy Ralph, still living in the debris of his old house which got burned to the ground a few years back, but none of them were as accurate and detailed as the ones with North (Carl Manfred being the only exception). Still, Simon would be happy to draw half as pretty. The boy really had a knack for this.

However, as he was about to move on and turn the page again, Markus grabbed at his hand, making him stop. It was so out of the blue that it scared the hell out of Simon, and a few bright cyan colored sparks of magic came flying from the palm of his hand, startling the young man in return, but thankfully not hurting him.

They both flinched away from each other, frantically muttering apologies.

“Sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to!” Markus yelped. “It’s just, the next sketch isn’t finished yet, perhaps the other ones would be more suitable…”

“No, no, I should apologize – I overreacted and lost grip of my magic. Won’t happen again.” It wasn’t until then he made sense of the lad’s words and frowned. Sure, he shouldn’t be nosy, but the uncertainty in Markus’ tone was troubling him.

“As for the picture… it’s fine, Markus,” he whispered and as if to make sure to get the point across, briefly squeezed Markus’ forearm in a short, friendly manner (but not before he made sure his magic was once again fully under the control). Amusingly enough, the boy almost instantly relaxed and gave him a bashful smile.

“You don’t have to show me if you don’t want to. Just please, don’t underestimate yourself like that. Your father is right, you know. You do have a blessing. And I would admire anything you have drawn, even if it was a little rough around the edges and incomplete. Never doubt that.”

When he stopped to think about what he said, it seemed like a step a little bit too far from the neighborly tone he wanted to set, and he scolded himself for it, but Markus didn’t look offended. More like pleased.

“Thank you, sir. You have no idea how much it means to me.” He stared at the sketchbook and pencil for a while. Then he seemed to make his mind and glanced up at Simon with a toothy grin. “Hm, come to think of it, how about we strike a deal – I show you the sketch and you show me some of your magic.”

When he noticed Simon’s slightly raised eyebrow, he lost some of his bravado and started explaining. “I’ve never seen you, or anyone, cast a spell before, other than healing and there’s too much stress associated with it, and the sparks looked nice, so… I suppose it’s only fair. What do you think, sir?”

Magic tended to be a sore spot for some snobbish mages back at the college. They refused to discuss it with “ignorants who can’t even possess it, let alone comprehend it”. Simon, on the other hand, always appreciated it when villagers asked questions, even though it sometimes made him feel like some rare specimen of a beast at a menagerie.

No full-grown adult has ever asked him to show them how his power looked like, though (most people simply cared about what it could achieve, but seldomly admired the aesthetics). It was such an innocent and heartwarming request, he nodded without even thinking twice.

“Alright, you got me. Fair is fair. Now, should I go first?”

“Yes, go ahead, please!” It amused Simon how excited Markus could get over something simple like this, so much so it made him chuckle.

“Fine, here we go, then.” He took a deep breath to steady his nerves, feeling the gentle thrumming of pure energy underneath his skin as he did so. It was drawing closer to the surface with each heartbeat, making him almost dizzy. Magic required a lot of discipline on the mage’s end to not get out of control like a wildfire and start burning things, but thankfully, that was one of Simon’s (few) merits he mastered early in his studies.

Once he felt ready, he raised one hand palm up and let his power manifest in a small wisp of a bright blue glow that shone softly and moved with the wind just like a candlelight. A show of pure self-control and strength in equal measure.

After a while, when the light stabilized itself and there was no risk of it getting “extinguished” or spreading uncontrollably, he peeked to see Markus’ reaction.

He found him staring at the wisp, deeply in awe, but his silence was slowly downing upon the mage, making him feel self-conscious. Reminders of some… less appreciative viewers were starting to rear their ugly heads.

Thank divines Markus spoke up at last.

“Wow. It’s so…” Unnatural. Bizzare. Scary. “…beautiful. I’ve never seen such perfect cerulean shade.”

Artist through and through, Simon chuckled, feeling much more relaxed straight away. “Well, it’s not called the ‘magical arts’ for nothing.”

“Oh, so it does run in the family too?” Markus gave him a lopsided grin, which made his heart skip a beat. This damned angelic smile should never be bestowed upon a human being. Just seeing it was making his cheeks turn rosy pink, and given his pale complexion, it would soon become painfully obvious he was thinking about things he shouldn’t have.

“It does, but not by rule,” he murmured as he struggled to keep his wits together. “I was the first mage in my family since my great-grandfather. My parents and brother were… normal.”

In the blink of an eye, Markus’ grin vanished (phew), only to be replaced by a way more serious expression as he sidled closer, almost like he wanted to comfort the other man. “Sounds quite lonely.”

It wasn’t that Simon didn’t appreciate Markus’ nearness. As a matter of fact, he liked it a bit too much. He longed to get closer, to open himself up to him. But he couldn’t, he wasn’t the one for Markus. That’s why he forced himself to create some distance, both physical and mental, between himself and the young lad who was in love with someone else and had no idea what he was doing to him. “It wasn’t so bad. There were others who had it much worse.”

If Markus has noticed the sudden coldness in his tone (and he definitively did, judging from the way he pouted while giving Simon space), he didn’t remark on it.

“But I believe it’s yours turn now,” the mage hurried to change the subject and to his big relief, Markus reached for his sketchbook with an uneasy laugh.

“Hoped you would forget about that,” he said, but obediently handed him the papers over. Simon gave him a smirk, as if to say: “Mages never forget, you know,” and turned the page. Once he did, his insides nearly froze to a solid ice.

There were a couple of attempts at sketches, but most got scrapped early in the process, showing only figures with blank faces and lots of notes around them, this time taken by Markus during drawing as he struggled to capture his idea. And on top of it all, in the right corner, was drawn Simon’s very own face all in a vivid blue color, with eyes gently closed and a smile on his lips.

It was simply the loveliest thing Simon has ever laid his eyes upon (even though it wasn’t very precise, clearly drawn from a memory like the others – the man in the picture was much more handsome, with prettier, less hawkish nose and slightly fuller lips).

Just knowing Markus deemed him worthy enough to draw, sent a warm, tingling feeling all through his body. He had to physically force himself to suppress it. He shouldn’t feel this way. After all, what would Markus’ significant other say?

“I know it’s no good,” Markus began rambling, “the lines are just off, and don’t get me started on the proportions! I didn’t do you justice. But… I could try again, if you’d be willing to pose for me?”

Simon’s heart almost stopped beating altogether. He knew it was just a friendly offer that meant nothing, still… he couldn’t. It wouldn’t be right.

“You’re selling yourself too short, Markus. It’s just as breathtaking as the others and I’m honored that you chose me as your subject.” The boy was beaming up at him, and Simon hated to spoil his joy with: “But I’m afraid I won’t have enough time to stand a model. Besides, there are plenty of other people you can ask who are way more interesting than I am. Perhaps John or Kara would be amenable.”

Markus’ face fell, resembling a kicked puppy. Why did it matter so much to him? Simon would never understand what was so special about his dull, plain face. “But I don’t want someone more interesting. I want you!”

Simon took a sharp intake of breath. He imagined these words being whispered to him thousands of times, but this wasn’t some secret confession, he corrected his stupid head. Markus meant it only as a model, right?

“You flatter me. It saddens me to say no, but I must.”

Markus sighed. “It’s fine. I understand.”

He could as well grab a knife and thrust it right into the mage’s guts. It would probably hurt just the same. If he wasn’t so sure it was better this way, he would have called it off and let the boy draw him for as long as he wanted. But as things were right now, he felt he overstayed his welcome and nearly leaped upon his feet, knocking over the package from Bouchard he was supposed to deliver and totally forgot about it.

“Thank you. I… should probably get going. Bouchard asked me to deliver this package to your father, so…”

Markus’ face lightened up for a few seconds. “Ah, great. That’s the new set of brushes and pigments we’ve needed. Thanks for fetching it, that was very thoughtful of you. I will take it, if you won’t mind.”

Simon didn’t, even though he had no problem of bringing it to the Manfred estate so the boy wouldn’t have to bother himself with it. After giving it some thought, he decided against it and did as Markus has said (like he had any choice in that matter, really), handing the package over before saying goodbye and hastily retreating home.

Well, this was truly a fiasco.

#detroit become human #simarkus #shey scribbles #dbh fanfiction #dbh #dbh simon #dbh markus #dbh north #fantasy au #fairy tale au #multiple chapters

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firewoodfigs · 5 years ago

Text

we might be made of scars, but we’ll be alright

read on ao3 | song: miho fukuhara, let it out

For @royaiweek day 3: old wounds - thank you mods!! 💕 y’all are amazing ✨

(a/n: it’s my first time trying out the “5+1 things” tag, and I thought I’d experiment with another writing style again xD feedback, as always, is greatly appreciated! <3)

“This one had it coming, this one found a vein This one was an accident, but never gave me pain This one was my father's, and this one you can't see This one had me scared to death But I guess I should be glad I'm not dead” - Stone Sour, Made of Scars

Lieutenant Hawkeye traces the long scar on the back of her calf idly as she changes out of her military uniform. It’s coloured a faded, nostalgic pink, and it reminds her of the innocent childhood that she shares with the Colonel.

She’d gotten it from a bad fall when she was only twelve, and her father’s apprentice had been terribly worried when he witnessed her limping back home. He had rushed over immediately with a first aid kit in hand, before propping her gently on the couch as he pleaded with her to let him take care of it.

It was hard to say no to such an earnest face like his. Having already suffered enough from the long walk back home, Riza wanted nothing more than to rest at that point. Eventually, she relented, though with a hint of distrust.

Because they weren’t even friends then, and what business did he have being so nice -?

“It might hurt,” Roy whispered before dabbing the damp gauze pad on her wound.

Hydrogen peroxide on open wounds, of course, stung like hell. But for every wince, every grimace, he’d responded with a soft apology, whispering soothing platitudes as he worked on the gaping wound meticulously to avoid causing her further pain.

It was the first time Riza had felt a touch so tender and kind.

Even then, his compassion hadn’t stopped there. After he was done with the bandages he had practically ordered her to bed and appointed himself as head chef despite her objections.

“You can’t be moving around like that,” he said, ushering her into her room while lending his shoulder for support. He had helped her - much to her abashment, and much to his amusement - onto her bed, before commanding her to stay put while he prepared dinner. She obliged reluctantly, fiddling with her blanket while waiting for him.

Not too long after, he came back with a bowl of hot stew and a delighted, affable smile.

“Thank you, Mister Mustang,” she said shyly.

Roy frowned. “Please don’t call me that. Just… just call me Roy?”

She politely refused, telling him that it would be terribly inappropriate to do so, but something between them had changed. Any tension that might have existed previously was beginning to dissolve, and Riza was starting to treat him less like the plague.

Sensing this, Roy continued to stay by her side despite her proverbial disinclination for small talk, hoping to finally befriend the introverted blonde.

Over dinner, then, he’d regaled her with tales of his unfortunate misadventures with alchemy when he first started out and silly jokes that he often made with his sisters. In turn, she had reciprocated with reserved laughters and hunting mishaps of her own and a budding trust.

In the end, the injury became an insignia of when her loneliness ended, and when their friendship started.

ii.

Then, of course, there were the scars on her back that contained deadly secrets, prolix poems and meaningless apologies. To an alchemist, the intricate, complex array might have been beautiful. A transfiguration of sorts, even.

To Riza, though, it was nothing but disfiguration in its purest, most unadulterated form. Engraved within were memories of pain and abuse and estrangement, and she would have honestly appreciated being able to live without a daily reminder of those.

He had known he was dying, even before Roy returned from the military, and had called this his parting gift. To her, to an apprentice worthy of its power, to the world. Donatio mortis causa.

Riza thought it was the furthest thing from a present - it was her father’s curse to her, and it would haunt her even after his death.

And when he’d finally passed… Riza had been terrified to show it to Roy.

It wasn’t so much that she didn’t trust him, but - would anger consume him at the realisation that her father had done this to her? God forbid - would he think of her as ugly, marred? Would he still think of her as desirable?

But he was the chosen one; the one that her father had deemed worthy of learning flame alchemy. Ultimately, her desire to assist his goals, his wonderful dreams and ambitions for the future and for the country had outweighed whatever trivialities that might have deterred her from doing so.

With trembling hands, thus, she had unbuttoned her cardigan to reveal the array to him. He’d been speechless. There was a silence that lingered in the thin, dusty air of the Hawkeye manor, but before it could persist he had crossed the distance between them in two long strides.

“Riza,” he whispered. Her hands weren’t the only ones trembling - his hands were, too. She felt it when he rested them on the planes on her back, tracing the grooves of her spine reverently, affectionately.

The trembling hadn’t stopped even when he circled his arms around her waist to bring her into a warm embrace. He had whispered apologies onto her shoulder, then. Blamed himself for not being there to stop his teacher, her father, from doing this to her, for leaving her alone to deal with this. It was a sincere apology, unlike the ones inscribed onto her skin.

Suddenly, the weight on her back had felt a little lighter - perhaps from a burden shared, or from his sweet reassurances.

Either way, Riza remembers it as the night where her trust in him had developed into full bloom.

iii.

Eventually, though, Riza comes to learn that psychological wounds ached more than physical ones. The latter was temporary, but the former - hell, they were indelible, inescapable. This much was heavily reinforced, at least, by the horrors of war that they had encountered during their time in Ishval.

She’d told her superior officer that a gun was good, because it didn’t leave the feeling of a person dying in her hands. It was a partial lie. One that she was willing to let slip from her mouth placidly if it meant that she could be by his side and utilise her gun as a tool for protection, rather than murder and war and genocide.

Because no matter how much she scrubbed her hands after in the sink, she realised that she could never wash away the red on her hands. While the distance between her and her unfortunate victims meant that blood had never fallen on her hands, the entire experience had stained her soul a deep crimson.

It warped her heart; her conscience and morality, and it was a burden that she - no, they - would carry to their graves.

Nonetheless, Riza finds herself sending a short prayer of thanks to any god willing to hear from a wretched sinner like her as she stares at Roy’s peaceful sleeping form. Dreamless slumbers like these were uncommon for the Flame Alchemist, the Hero of Ishval, but it seemed like they were getting increasingly frequent as they progressed along further with the project after the Promised Day.

(Of course, neither of them had come to forgive themselves entirely. They probably never would - for their burdens and sins and iniquities still remained, and would linger on to their very last breaths.)

But their work of atonement and reparation had assuaged their consciences somewhat, even if only marginally. Roy, most of all, deserved this brief respite. He’d been working himself to the bone ever since he regained his vision, and she found herself having to play the role of babysitter less and less.

Riza allows a subtle smile to cross her stern features as she drapes his coat over his tired frame before returning to her paperwork.

iv.

After the war came the burns on her back. They’re splattered across her upper back in irregular splotches of pink; etched with guilt and reluctance and self-reproach.

To say that asking Roy to burn her back was difficult would be a gross understatement. He had already endured enough, and to ask him to use the power bestowed upon him to burn even more skin was akin to putting him through another round of purgatory.

Riza was disinclined to repeat his suffering, but she needed it. Desperately. She couldn’t bear the thought of creating another Flame Alchemist, and the array was literally a back-breaking burden. She’d begged him once, twice before he relented. Very unwillingly.

They’d gone back together to Tobha to do it, back to the now-decrepit Hawkeye estate that held an eerie resemblance to a haunted mansion. In some ways, it was poetically fitting - ending it where it had first begun. The estate bore apparitions of their innocence, their childhood memories, but now it would bear the ghost of flame alchemy as well.

Riza came to learn, then, that whatever she’d conceived of as pain from having hydrogen peroxide dab at an open wound paled in comparison to fire searing her skin. It took all of her willpower to not scream, but she withheld the urge to do so. Even if it meant biting her lips, digging her nails into her palms until they bled.

Like he had once done when they were children, Roy was quick to come to her aid. He came with water ice-cold and embraces lovingly-warm; painkillers and repeated apologies and constant reassurances.

Riza manages to respond to all of this with reminders of forgiveness through her pain. Because for the first time since the needle had met her skin, since the war, she’d felt free. Liberated.

Libera me.

Roy had allowed her to be Riza Hawkeye - her own person, her own being - instead of just the bearer of a lethal, fatal secret that could kill thousands. Despite how much it pained them both to burn her back, she's never been more grateful.

Had she murmured her thanks, her apologies? Riza’s not quite sure. The memories after are a blur. She only remembers passing out in Roy’s arms and the tender, apologetic kiss on her forehead before unconsciousness had dawned upon her like a comforting blanket to stave away the unbearable pain.

The cold water falling on her skin in the shower reminds her of his warmth after the flames had died down. Riza can’t help but laugh slightly at the distant memory.

It’s ironic - Roy lives up to his moniker for reasons more than one.

v. / vi.

But none of the scars she’s sustained throughout her life can compare to the ones they’d gotten from The Promised Day.

The only comfort through all the hell they had endured was probably the fact that they were now lumped together in the same hospital room. Nonetheless, the quiet solitude of night-time is filled with unspoken apologies and unshed tears. It’s unbearable. Roy can feel the guilt radiating off every fibre of her being despite his blindness, despite the distance separating them -

- and so he orders his subordinate to come over.

Hesitantly, Riza complies. She crawls into his bed cautiously, careful not to jostle the wounds on his hands. They mark her failure. Roy was nearly killed before her very eyes, and she’d been powerless to stop it as the sword pierced through his palms. She wants to cry, wants to wail out loud and mourn for his loss of sight, for how useless she had been in the face of it all -

- but her vocal cords are strained. The only thing that escapes her throat is a soundless sob. Riza forces herself to hold in her tears - you don’t deserve to cry, no, stop - but Roy knows. He knows her like the back of his hand, and so even if she’s temporarily mute he can already hear what she’s going to say; even if he’s blind he can see the tears beginning to glimmer in her ochre eyes.

With a bandaged hand he carefully finds her face and caresses it tenderly. “It’s not your fault, Riza,” he whispers.

There’s a wetness to her cheeks now, like it’s raining. “Please don’t blame yourself,” he murmurs. “If anything, all the fault’s mine.”

As if to reinforce his point, his fingers make their way down - to her jaw, and then to the dressing on her neck. A sigh escapes his lips as he traces the scar underneath, remorse and regret dripping from his fingertips.

“No -” Riza croaks. Not your fault, Roy.

“If it’s not my fault, then how could it ever be yours?”

She’s silent again. There’s so much she wants to say - I’m so sorry, Roy, I should have been there, should have done something, can you ever forgive me, I was so afraid to lose you - but the wound renders it impossible.

Regardless, they’ve always had a knack for understanding each other, even without words or eye signals.

He searches for her face again, using it to guide his lips to her forehead. “Not your fault,” Roy says once more for added emphasis. His voice is louder than a whisper this time. It’s filled with conviction and relief and affection, and in their close proximity he can’t help but press a chaste kiss on her messy fringe.

“I was so afraid of losing you, Riza. Nothing scared me more than seeing you bleed on the ground, watching you almost… almost dying.”

They’re both crying uncontrollably now.

“But you’re alive, and that’s all that matters. I might never get my sight back, but I have the Hawk’s Eye with me,” he manages to quip through his sobs. “With you by my side, I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine, Riza. As long as we’re together.”

Riza manages a slight nod under his chapped lips, before reaching for his hand to place a gentle kiss on it. It’s a soothing salve to the dull ache underneath and a promise, a vow. I’ll always be with you, Roy.

Roy retracts his hand to wrap his arms around her, pulling her body to his chest in a tight, haphazard embrace. Riza feels his heart beating against hers, all life and strength and fervor, and she thinks he’s right.

“We’ll be alright, Riza. I promise.”

#royai #royaiweek20 #royai fic #royai fanfic #royaiweek #young royai #ishval #post-promised day #fma #listen I was listening to let it out while writing this and crying #especially at the last part #HAHAHAHA

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