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lottiebagley · 4 years ago

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Space Girl- George Weasley

Space Girl, show me the stars You know the galaxies of my heart

George Weasley was not excited for his first astronomy lesson of the year. He'd agreed to do the class simply because he needed to fill his timetable and it seemed more enjoyable than history of magic.

That's what he had told Fred at least.

In reality he had opted for astronomy for one specific reason. Y/N Y/L/N. She was a shy Hufflepuff girl and although he had never spoken to her George was absolutely enamoured with her.

So, as he dreaded the lecture ahead he tried to remember that this cloud had a silver lining, and it was a silver lining that was absolutely worth it. This was all confirmed when he walked into the astronomy classroom and saw her.

She was sat at a desk at the back of the room. Her hair twirling round her finger as she studied the open text book in front of her, seemingly unaware of the chaos around her. George noted happily, that none of her friends seemed to be in the class and rather than asking to sit with Angelina and Katie like he had been planning he figured what the hell and went for it.

"Hey, is it alright if I sit here?" He questions, willing his cheeks to not flush red when he looks up at him

"Oh, of course you can George," she nods, moving her stuff to the left to make room for him. He feels his heart leap at her knowing that it was him and not Fred.

"How did you know?" He questions, head cocking to the side to look at her better. He smiles slightly at the bright red flush on her cheeks.

"You aren't that hard to tell apart," she shrugs

"Our own mother can't always do it," he pesters, he's genuinely intrigued how she seemed to know so easily.

"Uh, okay then. You're slightly taller so when you are together I could always work out who was who. From there I just kind of noticed little things, you have two freckles on your neck, Fred has a scar above his eyebrow. Your face is slightly longer, your nose is a little longer and has that cute little bump in it, your hair falls completely differently and your lip has a little curl in it. But the easiest way is that you have a different vibe about you," She rambles like it's the most obvious thing in the world and George himself wouldn't haven't been able to explain the physical differences so well.

He's pretty sure his heart melted on the spot.

"You should tell my mum all of this," he smiles gently, not knowing how to respond and explain that he's never felt more seen in his life.

"Sorry, I'm not a creep or anything I swear. Just observant,"

"It was quite sweet actually," George smiles, biting back a chuckle when her face blushes a bright red. "So, you any good at Astronomy?" He questions politely

"I'm okay. It's probably my best class. I've always known about it so," she shrugs, cutting herself off. She knew that George was a pure blood and probably wouldn't want anything to do with her if he knew she was a muggle born.

"You're a muggle born right?" He questions, she's surprised his tone doesn't sound angry or accusatory like was often the way with pure bloods, instead genuinely interested.

"Yeah," she confirms "my older sister is obsessed with astrology so I knew a lot about it before I got here. It's probably the only subject I didn't fail first term," she admits, George smiles softly. He can only imagine how hard it would be to come to the school with no magical knowledge.

"Look at you now, you're top of the year in almost everything," he points out

"Yeah, Ced helped me find my feet and after I settled in it all made sense," she explains. George knew that her and Cedric were best friends, he was a lot more outgoing and George had never quite understood how their friendship worked but it was no secret wherever one was the other wasn't far behind.

Girl, are you a cancer? 'Cause you make me cry When we kiss or dance in the sky We're dancing in the sky

"Hey space girl," George grinned brightly as he dropped into his seat

"If you've forgotten my name you can just ask you know," she blushes a little, not thinking that the boy she had fancied since second year could actually have given her a cute pet name.

No. The only logical explanation is that he had forgotten her name but after being sat next to her for two weeks now was much too polite to ask for it.

She had told Cedric this and he had laughed loudly, ruffling her hair and telling her that she would do well to remember how beautiful she was.

"I know you're name. Y/N Y/L/N. You're a Hufflepuff, obviously," he gestures to her tie before carrying on "Your best friend is Cedric Diggory and you two are always together. You tutor my little sister in potions. You help Professor sprout with the plants in the green house on a Sunday morning. You like to study in the library, specifically the second table from the back left corner. You never eat carrots but you love peas and you always buy two chocolate frogs at Honeydukes one for the walk back and one for a treat that night. I'm not a creep. I'm just observant," He finishes his ramble with a reference to when she had proved just how well she knew him a few weeks prior.

She sits, slightly astounded as he looks at her like his ability to list off so much information about her that she had never specifically told him shouldn't be a shock.

Her heart melts on the spot and she's pretty sure her crush just became real feelings.

"Why?" She questions quietly, not really meaning for him to hear

"You're beautiful and I like looking at you," he shrugs, turning to the text book in front of him. He notices her eyes still staring at him and turns to look at her "hey, you wouldn't want to study together one night this week would you?" He questions, smiling at the blush that overtakes her cheeks

"Yeah. I'd love that,"

"Amazing, does Wednesday work for you? I could meet you at the library after classes end,"

"Sure," she nods shyly, biting her lip to stop a smile and having no clue the very action makes George want to kiss her senseless.

"I know the table," he grins, chuckling when she blushes bright red before turning back to his book.

Space girl, I saw a lunar eclipse Looked like how I feel 'bout your lips Space girl, the only way that we'd end Was if you were sucked into a black hole

'You'll be fine. Just be your self and if he doesn't love you he is stupid,' Cedric's words ran around her head as she remembered sitting in his dorm whilst he calmed her down and Cho did her hair. She had protested to the couple that it wasn't a date but they had still insisted on helping her get ready during their free period after lunch.

Now, sat in the library she tried to remind herself that George was a lovely boy and wouldn't do anything to make her uncomfortable, he probably didn't even think of her like that.

"There's my space girl, you're looking particularly beautiful today," George is beaming as he approaches the table she's sat at, taking the seat next to her.

"Hey George, good day?"

"It's better now i'm here. Fred hasn't shut up about Millie all day, I mean I know he fancies her and all but seriously you'd think she hung the stars in the sky herself," He complains, not admitting even to himself that Fred would say he was just as smitten for his astronomy partner. "How was yours?" he asks, opening his bag to pull out his astronomy text book

"It was okay, Ced managed to blow up our potion so we have detention tomorrow night," She shrugs

"I'll see you there," He grins

"Why am I not surprised?" she deadpans and he allows his laugh to fill the air around them

"You know me to well," he blushes a little as he says it and forces himself to not stare at the way she bites her lip to stop from grinning. Half wanting her to stop so he could see that beautiful smile that seemed to be all he thought about and half wanting her to bite that lip every time he sees her because something about it was so attractive to him. "Do you mind explaining the constellation we learned about last lesson to me because I won't lie I was very distracted?" He doesn't feel like admitting that it was her that he found so distracting.

"Of course," She grins, unfolding her star map and pointing out the constellation Lyra "So Lyra is latin for Lyre, it is like a stringed instrument basically a harp, and it's associated with the myth of Orpheus," She begins to explain

"The musician guy?"

"Yeah," She confirms, watching as he takes notes of what she is saying "Orpheus was given the harp by Apollo, and it’s said that his music was more beautiful than that of any mortal man. His music could soothe anger and bring joy to weary hearts. Wandering the land in depression after his wife died, he was killed and his lyre was thrown into a river. Zeus sent an eagle to retrieve the lyre, and it was then placed in the night sky and that's the story behind the constellation Lyra. It's best seen in August, and, it kind of looks like a lopsided square with a tail to Vega, it's brightest star," She recites, pointing towards the star on the constellation.

George tries hard to remember to focus on what she's saying, listening intently but he can't help his mind from wondering, instead scanning her face, every small detail, the way her eyes lit up as she talked, the way her lips curl in a small smile when she stops talking and notices him staring at her.

"Distracted again," he admits

"Clearly, you find astrology boring," she teases

"No, I just find you distracting," He admits, his heart melting as she is unable to stop the bright grin on her face. She doesn't say anything, simply grabs her notebook and opens it to the right page

"Copy my notes so you can at least teach yourself the content, the textbook is confusing," she instructs before turning back to her own work. They work silently for the next hour, dutifully copying notes and planning for their essay that's due in next week but routinely stealing glances at each other, blushing when one catches the other.

But I'd still spend my days dreamin' 'bout you Dreamin' 'bout you Tell me how to Stop dreamin' 'bout you

"Were you listening to anything I just said?" Fred questions, waving his hand in front of his brother's face

"Sorry, what was it?" George questions, pulling his eyes away from the Hufflepuff table. Fred sighs, turning to look at what George has been staring at and is not surprised in the slightest.

She is sat amongst her large friend group, despite being shy around people she didn't know she was chatting happily to the group. Cedric on her right, is laughing at the story she seems to be telling and Archie Young, who George hated simply for his obvious crush on her, is clinging onto every word.

"You are so whipped,"

"I know, it's embarrassing. I can't stop thinking about her and she probably only sees me as a friend,"

"Hey, don't say that. She would be stupid to not like you Georgie, besides, she stares at you just as much," Fred reassures his brother, usually he would tease him but he knows that this girl is different, it means something. "I still don't believe that she would never get us mixed up," Fred ponders, in reality he didn't doubt it, if George said she could tell them apart then why doubt him, but Fred wanted a moment alone with the girl.

"I swear to you that she wouldn't,"

"Lets test her," Fred exclaims, jumping up and tugging his twin out of the hall and to their dorm.

They spend an hour getting ready, stealing Ginny's eyeshadow to draw two fake freckles on Fred's neck, stying his hair attempting to fix every minor detail to make them utterly identical.

When they find her, she's hugging Cho Chang before turning around on her own and walking towards the Hufflepuff common room.

"Go hide," Fred instructs, shoving George towards an empty classroom he can watch from.

"Hey space girl!" She turns immediately at the name, mildly confused when the person approaching isn't George.

She had never spoken to Fred before and immediately feels herself becoming a little shy.

"Uh, hi Fred," she smiles as politely as possible. Fred stands with a smirk on his face.

"You fancy my brother," he states, she blushes a furious red that seems to be the final confirmation Fred needs, his moment alone with her providing the answer he had wanted.

"I-uh-he-that-it-" she stutters out, Fred's smirk only grows as she turns impossibly more flustered before sighing "How did you know?"

"Telling us apart is hard, especially when we try, you must really like him to know so quickly. Besides that reaction alone was enough to let me know I'm right,"

"Does he know?"

"He's blind," Fred shrugs, eyeing her as he decides he likes her, she clearly cares for George and that's all that matters to him.

"Right," she nods awkwardly

"I'm sure I'll be seeing you around," Fred grins before turning on his heel and heading back up the corridor to where an oblivious George is waiting.

Girl, are you a Cancer? 'Cause you make me cry When we kiss or dance in the sky We're dancing in the sky

George can't help the wide smile on his face when he sees her. She, like all the other 6th year astronomy students, is sat in her robes on the astronomy tower despite it being 11:45. He picks up the star map from a pile and heads towards her.

She is sat around a corner, almost out of eye line from the class completely and if he hadn't been looking for her he probably wouldn't have even seen her. He sits down next to her, pressing his back against the cold stone wall just as she was doing.

The task was simple, to draw a diagram of the constellations they could see that night with the correct names onto an unlabelled star map and then from 6am tomorrow they had 48 hours to write an essay explaining each constellation they had found, it was their final assignment for the first term of school. George thought that was stupid, why would they do the task that involved sitting outside at night in December and the written exam in the summer when it would have been warmer.

"Hi," she speaks softly, the moonlight made her glow and George could have sworn she was an angel. Her own map was already a quarter full and wordlessly she arranges it so George can copy the notes she's already made.

"Hey, you okay?" he questions, noticing the way she curls into herself

"Just cold," she nods, he flashes her a smile, digging into his bag and pulling out a spare sweater and a blanket, both knitted by Mrs Weasley. He passes her the jumper

"Are you sure? you have it with you so that you won't freeze. I can't take it," she blushes

"No, I'm already wearing a jumper," he points out "I figured I'd bring a spare cause I knew you wouldn't think too," He adds with a smile, she blushes but accepts the jumper from his hands.

"thanks," she smiles, he nods. Watching as she pulls the jumper over her head. Her heart somersaults at the smell of George that envelopes her, his does the same at the sight of her in his jumper that looks baggy and too big, the sleeves like paws on her hands, and the large 'G' sewn into the front making him blush a little.

He wraps the blanket round one of his shoulders holding the other side out for her

"I don't bite," he speaks softly, it's like he can read her mind and knows she's thinking about how close they will be to sit under his blanket together. She blushes and giggles a little and George could die happy having heard that sound.

She shuffles closer, wrapping the blanket around her shoulder and begins to point out the constellations she's already mapped for him, cocooned next to him in the blanket.

They work together for the next twenty or so minutes as she stifles yawns, eventually allowing her head to droop onto George's shoulder when he teases her for stifling yet another yawn.

"This blanket smells like you," she mumbles, he blushes madly but can't help the smile

"Are you warm enough?"

"Bit cold, I'm fine though," she admits, he rolls his eyes at her as she shivers a little and wraps an arm around her, pulling her close to him

"Better?"

"Better," she confirms. She didn't mean to fall asleep but all cozy and warm being held by her crush it was impossible not to.

Not wanting to wake her, George finishes both his star map and hers before dozing off, his head resting on hers. He knew he should have woken her to go back to her dorm but spending the night sleeping with her in his arms was just too tempting.

She wakes up before him, having slept better than she ever had before and feeling utterly blissful in George's arms. That is until she realises she hadn't finished her work, she can't help the beam when she sees George has done it for her. She wants to stay wrapped in his arms but feels it better to leave now so it isn't awkward. In return for completing her work she takes her astronomy notebook that has all the answers to the essay written simply and leaves it on top of his star map, she knew the answers from memory anyway. Not even sparing the doodles and comments in it a thought.

She slips out of his hold, sneaking through the other students who fell asleep and heading back down the tower stairs to the main school, forgetting to take off his jumper.

George wakes up disappointed to not find her in his arms but smiles when he sees her notebook.

I hope you play this song some day And think of Earth Girl who loves Space Girl

George can't help the sigh as he explains to Fred where he had been all night.

"That all sounds pretty good to me Georgie," Fred comments, wondering why his brother seems down after his night with the girl.

"It was, I'd just hoped she'd be there when I woke up," he admits

"Well think about it like this, when have you ever had the opportunity to be disappointed that she wasn't there when you woke up before?" It's Hermione Granger who speaks up, she'd been listening to the twins talk on the sofa next to her and Harry's without really meaning too. It was just more interesting than Harry and Ron's discussion.

"you're right. It's better than nothing. Thanks Granger," he nods in agreement. He begins to flick through her notebook, not to study but simply enjoying the little doodles and her comments.

And then his world stops.

"How many people can you think of with the initials GW?" his questions is almost under his breath but Fred hears, perking up from the puking pastel plans he had been working on

"Just you and Gin, why?"

With no explanation George leaps up, jogging out of the room. Fred look mildly baffled until he sees her open notebook, and sure enough written on a corner amongst drawings of stars and planets is a little 'gw' with a heart next to it. Fred smirks and closes the book, turning back to his notes with a feeling of glee for his brother.

When George Weasley arrives outside the Hufflepuff common room he suddenly realises he has no clue how to actually get in, he stops, slightly out of breath from his sprint staring at the barrels.

"Hey George," her voice makes him jump as he turns to see her and Cedric approaching

"Hi," he smiles, suddenly not really sure what to say

"Well, now I've walked you back I'm going to go and find Cho," Cedric smiles politely at George, wiggling his eyebrows at the girl as she blushes.

"You looking for someone?" she asks politely

"You, actually,"

"Oh, what can I help you with?" she asks, he has no idea what to say "Oh! your jumper, it's in my room. You can come with," she smiles, reaching out and tapping at a barrel and then climbing into the passage that opens.

He follows wordlessly, glancing around the large circular room that is filled with yellows and blacks. She walks a little more confidently than he's seen before and smiles happily to the people who call out to her but doesn't stop to chat with them. He decides he likes it here, not only because it's so cosy but because he likes seeing her so at ease.

He follows her into her circular dorm room and towards a fourposter covered in pillows and blankets, his jumper sitting folded on top of the trunk at the end.

"I actually wanted to talk to you," he admits, it's now or never.

"Of course, what's up?" she questions, sitting comfortably on her bed and gesturing for him to sit down next to her

"I- well- how many people do you know with the initials GW?" he questions curiously, she looks at him, clearly mildly confused.

"Springing to mind just you and Ginny," She answers, not really sure what the point of his question is.

Without thinking for even a second he pulls her face to his and plants his lips on hers, kissing delicately before pulling away. She stares at him, utter shock in her eyes and mouth agape.

"I-I am so sorry. I just- well there were the initials GW in your notebook and a little heart and well I thought maybe you liked me back and then I heard you only knew me and Ginny and I assumed, which was wrong of me- and- merlin- I'm so sorry-" he's rambling anxiously and his hands wring through his hair

"Back?" her question is a whisper and he snaps his head up to look at her

"Yeah. I like you. Kind of thought that was obvious," he admits. His heart flips at the wide smile on her lips before her hands grab his neck and pull his head down so his lips meet hers. She kisses him with passion and hunger and he finally gets to bite down gently on that lip he's watched her bite a million times.

Her arms stay wrapped around his neck as she lies back on her pillows behind her, pulling him with her and not breaking the kiss for a second. They only pull apart when she needs to for air. But the beam on her face and her flushed cheeks make George want nothing more than to kiss her again.

"Wanna go do the essay together?" he questions

"We have 48 hours, we could stay here and cuddle," she suggests, a little timidly but her nerves leave when George grins brightly, kicking his shoes off and rearranging himself on her bed. She takes her own shoes off before climbing into his open arms, her head on his chest as she leans up to press another kiss to his lips.

"I'm keeping that jumper by the way," she informs

"Whatever you want space girl,"

I hope you play this song some day And think of Earth Girl who loves Space Girl I hope you play this song some day...

Masterlist

#harry potter #george weasley #george wealsey x reader #weasley #weasley siblings #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #weasley twins #hogwarts #gryffindor #hufflepuff

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believingispowerfulmagic · 2 years ago

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Beyond the Call of Duty

Summary: Season 1 AU. The night of the fire at Town Hall, Regina is treated by a dashing EMT named Robin Locksley. They have an immediate connection and Regina pursues it, going against everything she has been taught by her mother and Rumpelstiltskin. With Emma Swan threatening to end her curse, will Robin help Regina learn what a happy ending truly is?

Chapter 1: FFN | AO3 | Wattpad

Chapter 10: Revelations

FFN | AO3 | Wattpad

Excerpt:

The motion to move Mary Margaret's trial was granted and relocated to the next jurisdiction from Storybrooke, Portland. Mary Margaret was scheduled to be transported to their prison there by the end of the week, after which no one would ever remember her again.

Well, with two exceptions but Regina could handle those.

First, she would start brewing a memory potion. She had limited ingredients but she hadn't had a need for a potion in a long time so she knew she would be able to make one and then wait. Emma would then likely follow Mary Margaret as one of the two who would remember the woman. Once she was gone, Regina would give the potion to Henry and get him to forget Mary Margaret as well as Emma.

Then everything would go back to normal.

Her only problem would be figuring out how to keep Emma Swan from crossing the town line again but she hoped Gold could help her with that as well.

Who said villains didn't get happy endings?

"Alright, Robin will be here shortly," Regina said, coming down the stairs as she finished putting in a new pair of earrings to go with her outfit. "Will you two be okay?"

Emma nodded, still looking awkward in Regina's house. She wrapped her arm around Henry's shoulder. "We'll be fine. Right, kid?"

"Absolutely," Henry said, smiling for the first time in a long time. "Have fun tonight, Mom."

It broke Regina's heart that Henry was only happy because she had agreed to let Emma babysit him that night. But she reminded herself that she had only done it because soon the pesky Savior would be gone and Henry would forget her. She saw no harm in letting him spend some time with the woman before then.

Forcing a smile to her face, she said: "I will."

"Why don't you head inside while I talk to your mom about a few things before she leaves?" Emma asked, gently pushing Henry toward the dining room. He nodded, heading into the room and leaving the two alone.

Regina raised an eyebrow, wondering what was going on. "Is something wrong, Miss Swan?"

"A lot is wrong," Emma replied, speaking low so Henry couldn't hear her. "We both know Mary Margaret is innocent."

"No, we don't," Regina said, keeping her voice even. "You believe she is innocent. I know she is not."

Emma frowned. "And is that why you are going out on a date? I thought you were so broken up over your friend."

Fire filled Regina's veins. Emma should consider herself lucky there was no magic in this realm or she would've already been incinerated by one of Regina's fireballs. Instead, she stepped closer as she fixed Emma with a cold glare. "I am heartbroken that Kathryn is gone and it pains me that we will never give her a proper funeral because of Mary Margaret. But I am glad that she is going to get justice and I think I can go celebrate that."

"Is it justice if the wrong person is going to prison?" Emma asked, still harping on Mary Margaret's innocence.

Thankfully, the doorbell rang and Regina was able to step back. "I have to get that. And I would ask that you keep your theories about Mary Margaret's innocence to yourself tonight, Miss Swan. The last thing I need is for Henry to believe she has been framed. This is hard enough on him as it is."

"Fine," Emma said, crossing her arms. "But Henry is a smart boy. He knows the truth as much as we do."

Regina didn't respond, crossing to the door. She opened it, relieved to see Robin there with a bouquet of flowers. He smiled, holding them out to her. "For you," he said.

"Thank you," she said, leaning closer to kiss him. "They're beautiful."

"Beautiful flowers for a beautiful woman," he replied. It was cheesy but it still melted Regina's heart.

She motioned for him to come in. "Let me just put these in water and then we can go."

"Take your time," he replied, stepping into the house. "We have plenty of time before our reservation."

"Hello, Robin," Emma said, still standing by the dining room with her arms crossed as she regarded Regina with narrowed eyes. Regina didn't know what the sheriff expected from her and decided to just ignore her for now.

Confusion filled Robin's eyes as he looked between Regina and Emma. He cleared his throat before saying: "Hello, Emma."

"I asked Emma to watch Henry," Regina said. "A peace offering, I guess."

Pride and happiness replaced the confusion in his eyes. "I'm glad to hear it."

Warmth spread through her and she kissed his cheek, hurrying into the dining room. Henry sat there, looking bored until he saw the flowers. "Did Robin give those to you?" he asked.

"He did," she replied. "I'm just going to put them in water before we head out."

"Is he out in the foyer?" Henry asked, perking up.

She nodded, pleased to see that he was excited about Robin being there. "You can go say hi if you want."

"Thanks, Mom," he said, jumping up to head toward the foyer. Regina took it as a good sign as she entered the kitchen with her flowers.

After taking a vase and filling it with water, she unwrapped the flowers and just put them in the water for now. She figured she would trim and prepare the stems once she got home to ensure the flowers lasted longer. Regina carried them out to the dining room and placed them in the middle of the table, running a finger along the silky petals of one of the many red roses in the bouquet.

She was a very lucky woman.

Regina headed back to the foyer, hearing Henry's voice as he was talking with Robin. She picked up her pace, eager to see her son interacting with her soulmate and boyfriend as she hoped they would build a good relationship. Coming through the doorway, she smiled as she saw Henry and Robin standing next to each other.

Her joy, though, was tempered by Robin's serious expression as he looked down at Henry. "I know it's hard to believe, Henry, but Miss Blanchard is the only one with motive to hurt Kathryn. Everything points to her," he said.

"But she's being framed," Henry insisted.

"No, she's not," Robin said, reaching out and gently squeezing Henry's shoulder. "If you think about it, there is no one who would want to hurt Miss Blanchard or hurt Kathryn and frame an innocent woman."

Henry frowned. "You really believe that she did it."

"I do," Robin confirmed. "And I think one day, you'll realize it too."

"Come on, kid," Emma said softly, pulling Henry to her side. "Robin and your mother have a reservation to make. Let's let them go."

Regina took a deep breath as she approached them. "You know how to reach us in case of emergency, right?" she asked Emma.

Emma nodded. "I have your number and Robin's. I should be good."

"Good," Regina said, turning her attention to Henry. "Goodnight, sweetheart. I'll see you in the morning."

He shrugged. "Whatever."

She swallowed, opening her arms. "Do you want to give me a hug?"

"I guess," he said, leaving Emma's side to just press his body against Regina's. He didn't wrap his arms around her, instead letting her do that with him instead. She knew it was the best she was going to get so she accepted it.

Regina kissed the top of his head. "Love you, sweetheart."

He mumbled something that she chose to believe was love you too before moving away from her to stand with Emma again. Regina took a deep breath before turning to Robin. "I'm ready to go if you are," she said.

"I am," he replied, holding out his hand. "I think you're going to love this place. It comes highly recommended from John."

She hummed, knowing that his roommate and friend was something of a connoisseur of food. As they left her house, she said: "Then I'm sure it will be wonderful."

Once they were in the car, Robin said: "I'm glad you're letting Emma spend time with Henry. I think it will be good for all of you."

"I hope so," Regina said, knowing that Emma's time in Storybrooke was no doubt limited. "I worry though, especially with Henry's belief that Mary Margaret is being framed."

"It's hard to imagine your teacher killing someone," he said. "At least when that teacher is Mary Margaret Blanchard. I know I had a few teachers that if they were arrested for killing someone, I would absolutely believe it."

She chuckled, wishing the curse had given her some memories of a false life to share with others. It had only come up a few times but they were growing more frequent now that she knew Robin. Regina recalled some of her tutors when she was younger instead and nodded. "I had at least one I would've been believed that about myself."

He nodded before his smile fell. "I'm guessing Emma believes Mary Margaret is being framed as well?"

"Yes," Regina said. "Or at least she wants to believe it. However, she's yet to offer me any alternate theories. I figure either she's going to accept it herself or resign if she can't."

"You think she would do that?" he asked.

She shrugged, even though she was certain Emma would do just that. "It's just a possibility. Emma's background is as a bail bondwoman. She may decide to use the skills used there to try to prove Mary Margaret innocent and can't do that and be the sheriff at the same time."

Regina held her breath, waiting to see how Robin reacted. She hoped that story would seem plausible enough for when she started to sow the seeds of doubt amongst the townspeople about Emma's fitness to be sheriff. It would help get rid of the Savior earlier if the people of Storybrooke thought her crazy and too dedicated to pet projects rather than their safety.

"You're right," he agreed. "Eventually, something is going to have to give. I doubt the people would be happy to let her use up their tax dollars trying to prove some crazy theory."

"Exactly," she said, letting out a sigh of relief. It seemed her story would work.

Good.

#once upon a time #outlaw queen #first curse au #oq au #oq ff #beyond verse #beyond the call of duty

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swiftgronmasterpost · 4 years ago

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Spring/Summer/Fall 2013 - The End(?)

Click here for an appropriately sad Swiftgron breakup playlist.

I don’t know if it’s important or not but Dianna wishes several friends a late happy birthday on twitter, apologizing for missing the actual day through this spring and summer. It seems like maybe she’s going through something (like a bad break up?) because it’s not like her to miss friends’ birthdays.

March 26, 2013 - Maybe a relevant tweet?

April 7, 2013 - Dianna tweets a photo of James Dean in a day dream like setting:

April 16, 2013 - The article that outed them:

Someone made a fake article that said Swiftgron was dating:

Dianna tweets seven times that day which is a bit much for her.

The hashtag here stands out to me:

The fake article goes viral and all week people are tweeting about the possibility that Dianna and Taylor are dating.

April 23, 2012

It seems to culminate on this day. Many people are buzzing about Swiftgron and this actress tweets:

That’s right at midnight.

About 12 hours later Dianna deletes her public Tumblr:

On that same day Dianna reblogs several things on her private Tumblr. These two stand out to me:

She reblogged both of these posts and the only hashtag they had in common was “#lost love” - she was searching that hashtag.

I think it’s very clear that today is the day Swiftgron 2.0 broke up. I believe they were forced to by their management teams due to being outed.

April 24, 2013 - Taylor seems regretful/stressed out she screenshots her text to Austin and posts:

I think Dianna’s obviously upset about this and as an act of defiance she tweets at Taylor a few days later (Taylor does not respond.)

April 29, 2013

Instead Taylor posts on Dianna’s Birthday (April 30) a silly google search (very DIanna in nature tbh) with a play on the lyrics from 22:

Taylor had the week of Dianna’s 27th birthday off of the Red tour (it was scheduled like that) but as far as we know they did not hang out.

May 4, 2013 - Ours

At her first show since their supposed break-up, Taylor performs Ours as a surprise song. She introduces it by saying: “This is a song about how, when you fall in love everybody starts to give you their opinion. I imagine it could be really hard to make a relationship last, I wouldn’t know. But, given that everyone is giving you their own opinion about it, I think that the only opinion you should really listen to is yours and if you love that person, that should be all that matters.”

youtube

Dianna dyes her hair brown and goes to Morocco a week later with Ashley (”You searched the world for something else, To make you feel like what we had”) from about May 11 - May 14 or 15. While there she attends the A Small World relaunch. ASW could be viewed as a bit “sketchy” if you will. I think this is where she befriends Olivia Wilde.

This is Dianna’s first (known) trip to Morocco (Derek Blasberg is there too) but she seems to be drawn there over and over again after this, even marrying Winston Marshall there (and possibly meeting another boyfriend, Gus Wenner there.)

May 19, 2013 - Billboard Music Awards in Las Vegas

Taylor wins 8 awards and says this during her acceptance speech:

This and the performance of Ours makes me think Taylor is bitter about a break up right now, even though publicly she broke up with Harry back in January.

This is also the event where Taylor is famously grossed out by Justin and Selena’s hetero nonsense and does this:

It seems like as always, Taylor has a lot going on right now...some kind of drama with Justin is boiling but it’s possible she’s also referencing her breakup with Dianna in her acceptance speech.

Dianna pops back up in NYC.

May 20, 2013 - WLW icon Kristen Stewart apparently spends the night at Taylors?

May 28, 2013 - Taylor plays Haunted on the Red Tour and gives a speech:

"This is a song that I haven't played on this tour so far. It came up when one of my friends tweeted the lyrics to it today and it reminded me that I haven't played this song in about two years. It has to do with the fact that, you know people talk about ghosts all the time. You just kind of imagine it being this supernatural thing, but there's another kind of ghost and it's just a person who is out there walking in the world or just doesn't love you anymore and that's a whole different kind of being haunted." Seems like she’s really going through it.

July 2, 2013 - Anniversary of Hyannis Port trip and interesting private Tumblr post from Dianna:

Bad things happen this summer. Cory Monteith passes away and Taylor is assaulted at a meet and greet by a DJ.

July 2013 - Dianna buys a house in LA (I Wish You Would)

August 2013 - Dianna’s whosirmesir moniker gets outed and she stops blogging under that tumblr account.

August 14, 2013 - Taylor is in a weird place according to the Lover diaries:

1. she seems to have basically written The Lakes here

2. she’s really harping on themes she ends up addressing in I Know Places, Out of the Woods, and Wonderland

August 29, 2013 - Dianna steps out with restaurateur Nick Mathers.

Not sure what to make of this one. Dianna seems to date two types of men: 1. teeny bopper actors for bearding and pr purposes (it generally seems) and 2. rich businessmen. Nick is type 2, but their relationship is reported on as if it’s PR. “Sources” call up gossip sites to fill them in on the relationship and both their projects get plugged along with announcements on them as a couple:

I don’t know if they were more or less legit but she goes out with Taylor five days later...

September 4, 2013 - The Fun! Concert:

Swiftgron’s last pre-Kaylor public sighting - they go to a Fun! concert in LA

It’s just a split instant of video footage but Sarah Hyland uploads this to Vine and it does not look like Dianna is enjoying herself:

Note: It kind of looks like DIanna has her arm around Taylor’s waist and also the person to the right of Taylor is Selby Drummond who is still friends with DIanna as of writing of this masterpost (December 2020) and who still appears to be a fan of Taylor’s.

Dianna does look miserable but I do think it’s interesting they seem to be making an effort to hang out on the two year anniversary of their public (perhaps private as well) first meeting.

Dianna tweets about the concert the next day:

September 6, 2013 - Taylor plays Speak Now as the surprise song on the Red tour. Interesting given the timing of Dianna and her new boyfriend being public just one week before this.

September 8, 2013 - Taylor plays Sad, Beautiful Tragic for the first time ever live and gives this speech:

"I kind of feel like playing a song I've never ever played live before. This is um a song that I wrote about how you know just because something's over doesn't mean it wasn't incredibly beautiful. Cause another lesson I've learned is not all stories have a happy ending and you have to learn how to deal with that. So this is a song about a story that didn't end so happily but was still supposed to happen. This is called Sad, Beautiful, Tragic."

I don’t think this song was originally written about Dianna but I do think at this time while they stumble through the last phase of their relationship Taylor was inspired to sing it.

October 2013 - Taylor writes I Wish You Would, a song inspired by an ex who had recently bought a house near her driving past her house. It’s thought to be about Harry but Harry didn’t buy a house in LA until March 2014. But of course we know Dianna did buy a house near Taylor’s in LA earlier this fall.

November 11, 2013 - The music video for “She’s Just Another Girl” premiers starring Dianna looking stunning in high fashion drag, dressed up as the lead singer, and lip syncing the words to the song:

Some lyrics to the song include:

All of my friends say I should move on She's just another girl, don't let her stick it to your heart so hard And all of my friends say it wasn't meant to be And it's a great big world, she's just another girl

I could be reeling them in left and right Something's got a hold on me, tonight Well maybe all of my friends should confront The fact that I don't want another girl

I think it’s at least possible that Dianna was drawn to this project because the lyrics resonated to her given what she was going through with Taylor at the time.

November 12, 2013 - Day of Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show rehearsals and Dianna posts this (now deleted) picture:

November 13, 2013 - Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show where Taylor performs and Karlie Kloss walks the runway.

Dianna posts this picture (now deleted) of her at Emma Stone’s birthday party from 11 months previous:

It’s likely she’s looking at Taylor in this photo who was seated across from her.

It’s a very random picture to post. It wasn’t titled as a throwback and it wasn’t an exact year after the picture was taken (prompting some kind of happy birthday shout out to Emma Stone or anything) - just a random picture of Dianna smiling, likely at Taylor.

November 17, 2013 - Dianna posts a (now deleted) photo about missing someone:

November 21, 2013 - Taylor posts lyrics from a hopeful love song about a troubled relationship:

Lyrics:

December 9, 2013 - Dianna listens to Pale Blue Eyes

Lyrics are about being emo over a lost love with Blue Eyes:

Sometimes I feel so happy Sometimes I feel so sad Sometimes I feel so happy But mostly you just make me mad Baby, you just make me madLinger on your pale blue eyes Linger on your pale blue eyes

Thought of you as my mountaintop Thought of you as my peak Thought of you as everything I've had, but couldn't keep I've had, but couldn't keep

Linger on your pale blue eyes Linger on your pale blue eyes

If I could make the world as pure And strange as what I see I'd put you in the mirror I put in front of me I put in front of meLinger on your pale blue eyes Linger on your pale blue eyes

Skip a life completely Stuff it in a cup She said, "Money is like us in time It lies, but can't stand up" Down for you is upLinger on your pale blue eyes Linger on your pale blue eyesIt was good what we did yesterday And I'd do it once again The fact that you are married Only proves you're my best friend But it's truly, truly a sinLinger on your pale blue eyes Linger on your pale blue eyes

December 11, 2013 - You know the drill...Dianna posts a now deleted photo to Instagram:

December 13, 2013 - Dianna posts an attention grabbing photo on Taylor’s Birthday

Conclusions - Swiftgron very clearly goes through a rough breakup due to being outed.

Then they attempt some sort of reconciliation - even hanging out (date night?) on the second anniversary of their Fairfax Flea Market meetcute, but it goes wrong.

Taylor is on tour for much of this time and Dianna is posting angst ridden and peculiar Instagram posts exactly at the time Taylor meets Karlie.

Click here to keep reading!

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bonjour-rainycity · 4 years ago

Text

Double Heart | Chapter Nine ~ Cosima

|previous part|

Pairing: Haldir x OFC

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 3476

Warnings: None

**Read on Ao3 under the user “bonjour_rainycity” if you prefer!**

A/n Sorry this was a little late! Happy reading :)

Translations: Mae govannen = well met! // Meleth nîn = my love

Two weeks after I woke in this strange world, we reach Imladris.

When Haldir tells me that the sparkling city in the valley is our destination, I can scarcely believe him. After endless days and nights riding through open country, to finally reach civilization, even if it’s not the civilization I’m used to, is so welcome I nearly cry with relief.

Four men on horseback race up the slope of the mountains to meet us. They wear heavy armor—more than what Haldir and the others wear—and carry tall spears. Their leader, fierce though he seems, takes my breath away. Even from here, I can see his face because it reflects an ethereal glow. His hair, which has to be spun gold, flows long down the back of his horse and glints in the sun. Whoever he is, he is no mere man.

“Elrond’s patrols,” I question, remembering someone mentioning them earlier.

“Yes,” Haldir responds, and I can hear a grin in his voice. “We have reached their outer borders. Congratulations, Cosima.” He twists to offer me a proud smile. “You have completed your first journey.”

I swallow, unable to keep myself from smiling back. Haldir can be so stoic at times that praise from him is completely unexpected. Warmth spreads through my chest.

The riders come to a halt in front of us and the one I assume to be their leader dismounts, striding confidently in our direction. Haldir slides off Faervel, approaching in a similar fashion. I take the horse’s reins in my hands, stroking his back affectionately. The horses’ height doesn’t bother me anymore and I’ve become much more confident in riding them in the past two weeks.

“Mae govannen, Haldir o Lórien!”

“Glorfindel.” Haldir clasps the man’s elbow jubilantly. They converse in that language I haven’t heard since I arrived — the others have been speaking solely in English for my and Alex’s benefit — and it’s jarring to hear the unfamiliar sounds. It serves as a reminder that, though I have allowed myself to become comfortable here, too comfortable, maybe, this is not my world. This is somewhere different.

Haldir turns over his shoulder and extends a hand in my direction. I catch my name and Alexander’s among the strange syllables and offer the man—Glorfindel, Haldir called him—a smile in greeting. He approaches, stunning golden hair shining in the light of the sunset, and bows elegantly. A laugh bubbles from my throat—startled by the action. Vaguely, I remember Rumil bowing to me when we first met. Whereas his motivation had been to make a joke, Glorfindel seems totally genuine, the gesture one of respect and welcome. He performs the same movement for Alex.

“Welcome, lost humans and my elven friends. Come, I shall keep you waiting no longer. Elrond is eager to see you and I am sure you are equally ready for proper food and a full night’s rest.” With that, he strides back to his horse and mounts.

I scoot higher on Faervel’s back to give Haldir room and hand him the reins. The horses must sense how close we are to extended rest, because they race faster than they did the entire journey. Despite my new skill, I have to grip Haldir extra tight to make up for the frantic pace and only being able to use one arm. Though the mountain slope is steep and the city surely has to be miles away, we arrive in less than an hour.

Streams of blue and white cascade above us, falling every way I turn and crashing down below. The air smells impossibly sweet and fresh — perhaps due to the flowers that bloom all around. The rays from the sinking sun, brilliant orange and gold, mingle with the water in the falls and, just as Haldir promised, send gently curving rainbows over our path. I let out a breath, completely stunned.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Haldir’s voice holds a reverence I’ve never heard before, but it is aptly placed. I could not fathom regarding this city with anything less than the utmost respect and admiration.

“I’ve never seen anything like it. Even in my homeworld, I—” I blink, unable to comprehend the etherial nature of my surroundings. “I would have remembered it. This…”

“I know.” Theres a soft, almost vulnerable quality to his voice that caresses the phrase. I can imagine his eyes are alight like mine, taking in the splendor of the city even though he’s seen it many times before. I’d wager this is a sight one never gets used to.

Glorfindel pulls his horse to a stop before an arching, narrow bridge.

Oh no.

I suck in a sharp breath, gripping onto Haldir with both my injured and uninjured arm. My wound stings, but it is preferable to suffer this momentary pain than to loosen my grip and go plummeting off the edge.

Haldir chuckles, the vibrations rumbling deep in his chest. “The bridge is only the beginning. Look ahead—part of the main city is suspended on pillars.”

My stomach churns and I feel my heart race. By the way my arms constrict around him, Haldir seems to figure out that he has not employed the wisest strategy. His voice softens and he squeezes my hand like he did earlier, after the attack. “Faervel knows the way. Neither he nor I will let you fall.”

I take a deep breath. It’s either the bridge and the safety of Imladris or the orc-infested mountains. And, I suppose, Haldir has gotten us this far. Minor injuries aside, we survived a heavily out-numbered attack relatively unscathed. I trusted him then and I can trust him now. “Fine.”

He chuckles again but makes a big show of lining Faervel up with what will be the middle of the bridge. I resist the urge to elbow him in the ribs — armor covers them anyway. It would hurt me more than it would him.

Glorfindel calls out in that language again, then directs his horse onto the bridge. The three other mounted guards follow. Then, so gently I barely register the change, Faervel steps from the lush grass to the stone of the bridge. Water roars and tosses below us, drowning out any words the others might say. And drowning you if Faervel doesn’t keep straight. That is, if the impact doesn’t kill you first. I fight the urge to whimper and keep my eyes locked straight ahead. Almost to the end.

The bridge is mercifully short and soon we are on much surer foundations, having crossed into the city. While the water still cascades around us, its noise has subsided, almost like it’s been muted. In its place, soft, lyrical music fills the air. Harps. Once we are far from the bridge, I look around. The buildings are made of stone yet seem a natural part of the valley. Chains of flowers spill from every archway, peek between small cracks in the stone, weave into the intricate designs in the masonry. Trees, the same ones that welcomed us at the border, make a home in the city, growing where they wish — even if that means rising alongside a fabricated pillar.

Haldir speaks softly, hesitantly, almost like he doesn’t want to interrupt my exploration of the city. “Is it worth the bridge?”

I realize we’ve come to a stop in front of a large dais backed by a constant stream of blue and frothy white. It’s like we’re in the waterfall. “Definitely,” I exhale. Though, I have no desire to cross that bridge again any time soon.

A tall man steps onto the dais. His face is kind and, though the edges of his mouth and forehead are lined with creases, he could be any age. He seems altogether outside of time. His eyes hold wisdom, more than I could ever hope to collect, and I know this must be the Elrond my friends talked about. He could be no other.

He spreads his hands and smiles warmly. “Welcome. Our friends from Lothlórien and the humans who accompany them, welcome to Imladris. We have dinner prepared for you. Leave your horses with the guards — they will be well cared for.”

I believe him. He could probably tell me the sky is green or Faervel is a mouse and I wouldn’t question it.

And if he told you that you’re in a different world?

I gulp and push the weighted thought away.

Haldir swings his left leg to meet his right and slides off Faervel’s back. As always, he keeps a gentle hold on me until my feet are securely on the ground, then clasps his hands behind his back in his most favored stance.

I peek behind me to locate Alexander. He shifts from foot to foot and darts his eyes suspiciously around the room. With his short hair, lanky stature, and clear discomfort, he looks so out of place here. With a start, I realize that I must, too. Though the physical differences are certainly apparent, there’s just something about these men…an otherworldliness I had somehow gotten used to during our journey. But here, in this unreal city surrounded by others who are so clearly not men…For the first time, I truly, honestly consider that they might not be human.

Rumil appears on my right side, practically beaming with excitement. “What do you think?”

I exhale on shaky breath, my recent realization having left me feeling a little lightheaded. “I think it’s a lot to take in. It’s gorgeous, though.”

At my left, Haldir eyes me curiously. He heard my reaction upon reaching Imladris and is probably wondering why I’m downplaying it to Rumil. Truth be told, I just don’t have the energy to take much more this evening. A good meal and sleep will hopefully help.

“Orophin!”

I tilt my head around Rumil to find the source of the delighted shriek and find myself staring at the most enchanting woman I’ve ever seen.

Her hair, coiled and dark, tumbles down her back in tight curls, brushing the back of her legs. Her espresso skin shines in the nearly-faded light, almost as if it has a luminescence of its own — perhaps a result of the joy that radiates from her. She wears a long, ruby-colored gown that sweeps gently over the stairs as she practically throws herself down them, sprinting in our direction.

“Meleth nîn!” Orophin calls back to her, breaking from our informal line and rushing to whom I assume to be his fiancée.

Indulgent chuckles run through our group as the two collide, gripping each other in a fierce hug. They pull back almost immediately, pressing their foreheads together and just staring into each other’s eyes. The action seems much more intimate than if they had fallen to the floor in a passionate embrace, and I avert my eyes, feeling the need to give them privacy.

“Come on,” Haldir whispers, ghosting his fingers over my elbow. “They will join us later.”

Elrond leads us through open-air hallways. Every way we turn seems to offer a view of the waterfalls and brings with it a light, fresh scent. He takes us right, bringing us through one final archway and into what looks to be a dining room. In the center is a long rectangular table surrounded by ten matching chairs. The table is already stacked with food — breads, salads, fruits, and various kinds of meat that smell absolutely mouthwatering.

Elrond smiles invitingly, entering the room and stopping behind the chair at one of the table’s heads. “I expected you would be weary this evening and would wish to dine in private. Please, sit and help yourselves.”

I follow Rumil and Haldir, hoping I’m not violating any social rules I am unaware of by choosing a random seat in the middle. Before I can pull the chair back, Haldir steps in to complete the task, gesturing for me to take a seat. I have to hold back my amusement at the antiquated gesture — perhaps it’s a custom here. He does seem more formal than Alex and I are.

Haldir and Rumil take the chairs on either side of me and, before long, Alex appears at my opposite. I smile at him. Given our recent arguments and the fact that I don’t really know if we’re friends in this life, I’m not quite sure where we stand. But he returns the gesture which allows me to breathe a sigh of relief. He’s familiar, at least. Baranor sits between Alex and Elrond and immediately the two healers engage in deep discussion.

I distract myself with the food and soon have more piled on my plate than I could possibly hope to eat, but I can certainly try. Before long, Orophin and the woman from earlier join us and are welcomed jovially.

Orophin beams, gesturing to the woman at his side. “Lavandil, these are the humans I was telling you about. Cosima and Alexander, this is my betrothed, Lavandil.”

Lavandil sets her excited gaze on both myself and Alex. “Hello, it’s so nice to meet you. Welcome to Imladris! We are pleased to have you here.” Her voice is warm, welcoming, and I find it impossible not to smile along with her, distressed though I am at Orophin’s clear distinction of me as ‘human’.

Orophin pulls out a chair for Lavandil and sits between her and Alex, who looks ridiculously uncomfortable in the presence of so many of these…humans. Though, I must admit, my resolve to call them that is steadily weakening.

Minutes later, Glorfindel enters the room accompanied by a demure man called Lindir. Haldir and Glorfindel fall into a spirited debate about patrol strategies and border security. Rumil piles something on my plate that he claims I have to try. He’s not wrong — it’s really good!

“So, Cosima, Alexander.” Lavandil props her elbow on the table and rests her chin on her hand, looking at us with interest. “Orophin says they happened upon you both near the river and that you haven’t any memories?”

All eyes converge on me and Alex. I don’t trust him to be polite, so I hurry to answer her question.

“Yes. We remember each other and tiny snippets of our home, but besides that, nothing.”

“How strange,” she muses, looking fascinated. “That must have been so shocking. How are you adjusting?”

I exhale slowly, playing for time. How am I adjusting? The weight of everyone’s eyes feels almost crushing. “It’s definitely a lot to get used to,” I say diplomatically. “But we’re really lucky to have run into good people who were willing to help.”

Despite his feelings towards our companions, Alex wisely remains silent. It would do us no good to offend our hosts.

Lavandil giggles, the sound bright and cheerful. “I’m glad they were helpful and not rude. I know Haldir has a tendency to interrogate first and help later. He’s slow to trust.” She shoots Haldir a teasing grin, to which he merely rolls his eyes, but his cheek twitches like he’s fighting a smile.

I try to suppress a grin. “Well, he wasn’t exactly warm and fuzzy, but he calmed down quickly enough.” I purse my lips, contemplating. “But now that I think about it, no one really left me unattended or gave me a weapon even though the trip was dangerous. Hold on, do any of you actually trust me?” I lean back in my chair and cross my arms, though I raise an eyebrow at Haldir to let him know I’m only kidding.

He shakes his head, huffing in mock exasperation. “We trust you now but at the start, how was I to know you weren’t some sort of spy?”

“A spy!” I huff. “I’m hurt. But moving on. Later, once you decided I was not a spy, how come no one gave me a knife or anything?”

Rumil chortles. “Have you seen the lines of your mending? You’re more likely to impale yourself than an enemy.”

I grumble indignantly. He’s right, but that doesn’t mean I have to tell him so.

Haldir quirks an eyebrow. “Would you like to learn? I can teach you.”

I think on this. Hmmm…do I need to learn how to use a weapon? Probably. But do I want to? Surprisingly, I find that the answer is yes. This world is obviously dangerous—I got a very real reminder of that just a few days ago—and I want to be capable in it. Haldir or the others might not always be there to defend me—I should learn how to protect myself.

“Yeah, I would. Thank you!”

Haldir nods, the edges of his mouth pulling into an expression of grim determination. I quickly discover why.

He’s psyching himself up, I realize with a quiet laugh.

He inclines his head towards Alex. “And you, Alexander? I can teach you as well.” By the gravity in his tone, it is clear Haldir’s offer is real, but begrudging.

Alex takes a bite of fruit. “No thank you.”

That’s to be expected. Though Haldir was angry earlier and probably overreacted, he did make a good point when he said that Alex has yet to make an effort to adjust to life here. He’s stayed on the edge of things since the moment we encountered him, always keeping one foot out the door.

A voice warns me that, rather than criticizing Alex, I should have been doing the same.

Elrond motions for an attendant to refill my glass of water. “Baranor says you were attacked in the mountains? That must have been very frightening.”

Flashes of grotesque beasts and shining swords enters my mind and I shrink away from the images. I know we’re safe inside these halls but the fear is still there, lurking at the edges of my thoughts.

Haldir cuts in and I realize I have been silent for longer than is polite. “We were attacked, yes, by about eighteen orcs, wouldn’t you say?”

Rumil and Orophin both nod — I didn’t even know they had a count. I had been focused trying to dodge the blades and arrows. To me, it seemed there was an endless stream of the monsters. Haldir continues. “We killed them all and had no trouble for the rest of our journey. It does make me wander though,” his eyes dart to mine and then quickly away. “Such a large party so close to your borders? Is that common these days?”

“Yes.” Elrond nods gravely. “We have seen an increase in scouting parties and attacks. Just last month, a fully armed company of forty attempted to breach one of our southeastern border stations.”

“No,” Orophin breathes, gripping Lavandil’s hand tightly, a stricken look of horror stretching his face.

She brushes his concerns aside. “Oh, I’m fine. I was up north visiting my mother at the time. I didn’t even know the attack had occurred until I returned home.”

Orophin’s reaction worries me. I lay my fork on my plate, appetite fading as fear gnaws at the edges of my gut. “That’s unusual?”

Haldir shakes his head. “It is not unusual to encounter orcs at the borders, but an armed, prepared, planned attack of such a large number is…telling.” He avoids my gaze.

My body runs cold. “Telling of what?”

“Sauron,” Elrond says simply.

“That name means nothing to them,” Orophin reminds him, still looking at his love. He holds so much concern in his eyes—and a measure of fear—and I wonder just how big of a threat this is. Is Lavandil in danger? Is Elrond? Are we?

Elrond elaborates. “Sauron is a being of great power and even greater evil. He was defeated once before, but whispers of his presence have been heard throughout the realm. I believe he is growing in power again, gathering his armies. He is preparing.”

I drop my hands into my lap, gripping the edges of the chair in an attempt to find an anchor. Across from me, Alex has gone pale.

I don’t have to ask what this being is preparing for. It’s obvious. He’s preparing for war.

If the orcs weren’t bad enough, now we’ve got an evil power looming over us all? I wonder…is my homeworld safer than this?

Glorfindel raises his glass of deep red wine. He holds a steely, almost feral glare in his golden eyes and, suddenly, I am very, very afraid of him. “As quickly as he rises, so shall he fall.”

All aside from Alex and me raise their goblets, a forceful, “hear, hear” resounding through the room of stone. My eyes meet Alex’s. He raises an eyebrow as if to say, what do you want to do?

And I know my answer.

I want to go home.

A/n Thanks for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs make my day! Let me know if you would like a tag :)

|next part|

|masterlist|

Tolkien tag list: @anangelwhodidntfall @eru-vande

Haldir tag list: @tolkien-apologist

Double Heart tag list: @lainphotography @themerriweathermage @thophil2941btw @kenobiguacamole @wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse @from-patroclus-with-love @boywivlove @ordinarymom1 @my-darling-haldir @sweet-bea-blossom @moony-artnstuff

46 notes · View notes

chojiakimichi · 3 years ago

Text

Take Me Back To The Start

Pairing: Nara Shikamaru x OC

Summary: Uchiha Madara was dead; a man who had always made it seem like the only reason he was still alive was because the Grim Reaper was too scared to take his soul was dead. And Uchiha Toshiko, was back to bury him. She wasn't back to remember or stroll down memory lane with the boy who broke her heart, she was there to say goodbye to the man who raised her. But if she just so happened to find herself once more walking familiar paths while doing just that, well then, Toshiko supposed it just couldn't be helped.

Chapter: One — Six Feet Under

Word Count: 12.5+

Warnings: None; Angst, Modern AU

Notes: Find on ao3

Uchiha Madara was dead; the man who'd survived over just over century on nothing but spite, determination and soba noodles was dead.

He'd never wake up and huff at the sun for shining in his eyes again. Never again would Uchiha Madara hobble into the kitchen of his ancestral home and huff at whatever eldritch horror his eldest grand-nephew Obito had accidently made for breakfast that morning nor would he ever again sit on the back porch, smoking his pipe whilst glaring at any local children that rode their bikes far too close to his lawn.

Because he was dead and in three days time he'd be cremated and his ashes would be scattered into Naka river like every other passed Uchiha leaving nothing of him behind but the memories he'd help create and the decrepit sandals he had refused to replace for the past— who could even remember how many —years.

Toshiko, the youngest of Uchiha Madara's grand nieces' and nephews' rested her head against the cool glass of the trains window as she swallowed the lump in her throat.

Death wasn't a stranger to Toshiko; how could it be, she and her older brothers— Sasuke and Itachi —had all watched their parents die in a car crash as children. And yet despite the fact that Death wasn't a stranger and despite the fact she had lost her parents already and should know what it was like to lose someone— to loose a parental figure; Madara had almost been like another father to her, after all he had been the one to take her and her brothers in after their parents deaths —Uchiha Toshiko still felt her eyes mist over and her heart twist in her chest.

Because her grand uncle was dead. Because she'd never get to see the perpetually grouchy, practically ancient old man she loved like a second father ever again. Because she missed him and that feeling would never go away.

Toshiko's dog, a young, fluffy white Chow Chow she'd named Masshu— short for Masshupoteto —after being gifted him, stirred at her feet, his head popping up from atop his paws as he turned to look up at her.

Sometimes when when Toshiko looked into Masshu's eyes she'd swear she could hear nothing but Wii music going on behind them; she thought that her supposed guard dog's head was filled with nothing but the thought of chasing squirrels and the promise of future treats. This time though, as her wet eyes flickered from the thick tree-line the train was speeding past to Masshu, Toshiko could have sworn she could see concern in the canines whiskey eyes; almost as if he knew she was upset.

Toshiko flashed the Chow Chow a wobbly smile; it was the kind of smile that the more it screeched across her face the more it turned downwards. Her heels squeezed at the large dogs sides in acknowledgment— Masshu set his head back down on his paws —as she turned back to the window; Toshiko's eyes dragged across the blurred scenery.

Her stop was getting close.

The twenty-six year old female sucked in a deep breath before she grabbed her phone from her smoky colored coat pocket and untangled the headphones she'd wrapped around the device before her impromptu nap earlier during the train ride.

Toshiko punched in her phones code with the pad of her thumb. Her password was just the numbers that correlated to the first four letters of her name; eight-six-seven-four. Her brother Sasuke liked to make fun of her for it, saying how if someone wanted to seal any information from her phone they could; that it'd be easier then taking candy from a baby and while he was right, no matter how many times the older man harped about it to her, Toshiko kept her passcode the same.

Toshiko opened her Spotify app and shuffled her liked songs. Train's Drops of Jupiter was already playing by the time she put in her right earbud. Toshiko's head tilted up at the sound of the songs first few cords, her head once more resting against the windows cool glass.

Now that she's back in the atmosphere, with drops of Jupiter in her hair.

Toshiko kept her password the same not only because it was easy to remember but mostly because— as Sasuke had gone into the private sector after having dropped out of college —he'd undoubtedly still go on about security and safety even if she ever did change it, but also partly because if she just did whatever Sasuke said, when he said it he'd always expect her to and she refused to have that.

Little sisters, after all, were supposed to be difficult.

She acts like summer and walks like rain, reminds me that there's a time to change, hey.

When was the last time Toshiko and her grand uncle had talked?

When she had been in university the year before they had talked two-three times a week. Sometimes they'd only chat for a few minutes; just checking in with one another, while other times Toshiko and Madara would talk for hours. He'd gripe about whatever new annoyance plagued him for an hour or so before she'd go on about how stupid people in her classes could be and their idiotic options on social policies and how they were so wrong it was almost maddening.

But lately, ever since she had started her job at the Fukuoka prosecutors office Toshiko's life had began to revolve around work. The only time she ever seemed to go back to her tiny apartment was when she needed to feed and walk Masshu and even then, as of late, Toshiko had begun to hire the boy who lived on the floor below her to walk the Chow Chow.

So when was the last time Toshiko and Madara had spoken?

Since the return of her stay on the moon. She listens like spring and she talks like June, hey.

It hadn't been the day before he'd died. Hadn't been that week either. Two weeks? Toshiko racked her brain to remember only to come up with the last time they had spoken being sixteen days before he'd died; twenty three days ago in total.

Nearly a month.

At the time of their call Toshiko had told her grand uncle about a case she'd won while sitting first chair— it'd been a negligent homicide case; not only her first homicide case of any kind but the first case she'd sat first chair for —and though he hadn't said it in so many words, Madara had sounded so proud of her. Toshiko could remember the light feeling that'd carried her through the next two days following that call.

"Konoha station coming up next," the conductors voice rang out; snapping Toshiko out of her thoughts.

Toshiko pocketed her phone and grabbed the bookbag she'd stuffed full of clothes the night before in one hand and the loop of Masshu's leash as she stood from her seat, nudging Masshu out from under her and towards the trains doors, pausing at them as she looked around her mostly empty train car to see if anyone else would be getting off with her.

No one moved from their seats; three of seven people left in the car were asleep and the four that weren't were all too engrossed in whatever they were watching on their phones or reading from the books propped up in their laps to be getting off with her, leaving Toshiko's dark eyes to move from the sea of mostly empty seats to the window closest to her.

The train was slowing down.

Toshiko wrapped the length of Masshu's leash once around the palm of her hand, and then twice. While she didn't expect Masshu to bolt when the doors opened up— Masshu had been incredibly well trained; the whole point of Sasuke having bought Masshu for her was for him to act as her guard dog once she'd moved off campus and into her own apartment —it just was easier to hustle him off the train quickly on a tighter leash.

The song changed from Trains Drops of Jupiter to One Directions new song Drag Me Down, something that while Toshiko wasn't quite in the mood to listen to she didn't bother to skip as she still liked it.

"Approaching Konoha station now. Please remember to take all your belongings with you when you exit the train car," the conductors voice said as the train began to lull to a stop.

Toshiko could see the colorful benches that littered the Konoha train station; several of the benches had foxes painted on them. As the train continued to stop Toshiko's car passed the stairs that lead from the platform to the road and the tiny station building that sold snacks for people to eat on the train and tiny Konoha-centered knick-knacks to tourists who had wandered into the small building in search of directions.

"This is Konoha station," the conductor sounded, as the train came to a full stop. "This is Konoha station, the next and last stop will be Aomori. Please remember to take all your belongings before you exit the train. Thank you for riding Thunder Rails."

Toshiko shuffled closer to Masshu; the fingers not curled around Masshu's leash tightened as they gripped the strap of her bag. Her heel clicked against the floor once before the doors opened up with the same kind of sound Tupperware's made when being unsealed. Then as if she were in a race and the gun signaling the start had sounded, Toshiko shot off the train and into the platform, Masshu trotting behind her, his tongue poking out the side of his mouth.

Half way up the platform Toshiko felt her phone buzz; the young woman paused to pull it from her coat and saw it was a message from her brother Itachi.

Parking lot. First row.

Toshiko felt her lips press together, she could have sworn Sasuke was the one who was supposed to pick her up, not Itachi.

Not bothering to respond— not because she minded that it was Itachi picking her up and not Sasuke but because she'd see her eldest brother in less then a few minutes anyway —Toshiko paused her music before shoving both her phone and the headphones attached to it back into her pocket. She tugged at Masshu's leash, signaling that once more they were on the move. Something Masshu instantly complied with.

Toshiko and Masshu both scampered up the concrete steps that lead to the main road and the orange station building, that had been built the same time as the railway only to turn left and walk down the hill that lead to the dead end that was the Konoha train stations parking lot. There were three cars in the parking lot; Itachi's, like he said was in the first row.

Though even if it hadn't been, and even if there were more cars littering the lot, Toshiko would have easily found her brother as he was leaning against the front end of his car.

Like Toshiko he was dressed in black. His long hair was tied back into it's usual low hanging pony tail, his wiry glasses were perched at the end of his nose and though his smile didn't reach his eyes the tension in his shoulders disappeared at the sight of Toshiko, who, at the sight of her eldest brother, felt the tears she'd been holding back on the train quell up in her eyes once more.

Their grand uncle— their ōoji-san —was dead; Uchiha Madara was dead. The only parent Toshiko had known for the past twenty years was dead.

Was gone.

She loosened her hold on Masshu's leash.

"Nii-san," Toshiko croaked, her tears falling. One then two; Toshiko caught her bottom lip between her teeth only for it to trembled violently. She hadn't really cried when Obito had called her the week before and told her of their grand uncles passing; sure tears had automatically fallen at the new but it hadn't been real then.

Uchiha Madara being dead were just words; they hadn't been true, couldn't be. He had always seemed too stubborn to die, seemingly immortal; Uchiha Madara had been a hundred and two when he had died. At the time hearing that he had died had almost been like hearing pigs had learned to fly; absurd.

But then the closer she'd gotten to Konoha on the train the more the truth had began to set in until she'd been forced to acknowledge it. To swallow it; Uchiha Madara being dead wasn't just words, they were Toshiko and the others new reality.

Come three days time she and her brothers and her cousins would be cremating their grand uncle.

Itachi pushed off the square front of his car and Toshiko met the older Uchiha half way, her arms outstretched. Toshiko heard Itachi let out a soft sounding oomph when she barreled into his bony chest. Toshiko clung to Itachi the same way she had when their parents had died and Sasuke had been hospitalized following the car crash; like he was her last and only life line tethering her to the Earth.

Toshiko's shoulders shook as she cried into her eldest brothers chest; Masshu's nose pressed against the back of her thigh as one of Itachi's hand's moved from her upper arms so that it was splayed out between her shoulder blades while the other was curled around the back of her head, cradling her against him.

"It's alright Toshiko," Itachi said, his own voice raspy, the same way it would be if he were on the verge of tears; and perhaps he was.

Itachi— and Shisui —hadn't been close to Madara, not the way Toshiko and Sasuke and Obito had all been, not because of any family drama or clash of ideologies, but because unlike them, neither Itachi or Shisui had been raised by Madara.

Shisui had grown up in Tokyo with his mother following his fathers death, only ever visiting Konoha during the summer while Itachi— who'd been born a genius —had gotten out of living in Konoha year round following their parents deaths due to the fact that at thirteen— right before the deaths of Toshiko, Itachi and Sasuke's parents —Itachi had been accepted to university. Meaning that he only ever came to town during Christmas break and summer holidays with Shisui, when neither of them had classes.

But just because he hadn't been close to the their grand uncle didn't mean he didn't care. Itachi had always had the biggest heart out of everyone Toshiko knew, always caring about every little thing.

Toshiko felt herself nod and though she tried to collect herself and force the tears to stop it wasn't until several minutes later that Toshiko, puffy faced and red-eyed pulled away.

"I'm sorry," Toshiko said with a forced smile, as she wiped her face with the cuff of her sleeve, "I didn't mean to cry on you."

"You've done worse. Incase you forgot I used to help mom change your diapers," Itachi said with a smile; like Toshiko's it was obviously forced. Though unlike hers it looked far more natural, anyone who didn't know the tall thirty-four year old wouldn't suspect a thing.

Toshiko let out a breath, one that could've doubled as a quiet laugh, and stepped away from her brother. Masshu rubbed up against the outer part of her leg. "You are so gross Itachi."

"What?" He blinked innocently, the slight, sudden upturn of his lips was far more genuine then it had been a moment before, "It's true."

His left hand raised— Toshiko didn't bother to try to dodge; she'd long ago learned the effort was fruitless —and just like he'd always done to her and Sasuke when they'd all been growing up, Itachi poked her in the dead center of her forehead.

Toshiko's nose wrinkled at the touch.

"Whatever nii-san," Toshiko said; her chest was still heavy and her eyes were still wet but Toshiko nonetheless rolled her eyes at her brother. "Anyway," she said, motioning to Masshu, who'd taken a seated position next to Toshiko, "This is the dog Sasuke got me when I moved a few months ago, 'Tachi, meet Masshu. Masshu," Toshiko motioned to Itachi, "Meet my brother, Itachi. Be nice."

Itachi crouched down and held his hand out; Masshu didn't hesitate to put his paw in the palm of Itachi's hand. Itachi shook it the same way he would a persons.

"Nice to meet you Masshu." Masshu's large head rolled to the side before Itachi dropped his paw and straightened up; he looked to Toshiko, "I have my luggage in the back seats, will he be alright in the trunk?"

"Yeah," Toshiko nodded, only to frown. Just like she could have sworn it was supposed to be Sasuke picking her up she could have sworn that Itachi had been meant to arrive in Konoha two days before then to help with the last minute funeral preparations. "You haven't gone to the house yet?"

Itachi shook his head, "I only got back to the country early this morning, I got delayed at the conference and missed my original flight in."

"Oh," Toshiko said. "I'm sure Sasu loved that," she added sarcastically.

It wasn't that Sasuke hated Itachi— Toshiko wasn't sure Sasuke could ever —it was just that the middle Uchiha sibling still carried around the childhood anger and resentment he had towards Itachi, something that Toshiko— though she wished Sasuke would let go of now that they were adults —understood.

Toshiko got why Sasuke resented Itachi. He— Sasuke —had been, for the first few months following the crash that had killed their parents in a coma due to the head trauma he had sustained when their father had lost control of the family car and gone into the river. And when he had woken up their parents had already been buried, their house— the only home Sasuke had ever known —had been packed away and Itachi had been practically out the door and on his way to university, leaving them behind with Madara and Obito two family memeber who— neither Sasuke nor Toshiko had know well —at the time were virtually strangers.

"I know," Itachi nodded as he lead her and Masshu to the back of his dark red Toyota Roomy. "It's why I'm picking you up though and he's not. Sasuke got in last night and I was already on the road, I figured it'd be easier."

Itachi opened the trunk's door.

"Up," Toshiko said with a snap of her fingers and her hand in the trunk; effortlessly Masshu jumped up into the trucks back.

"That was sweet," Toshiko— as Itachi closed the trunk's door —said instead of the You know it won't stop him from giving you shit for not arriving when you said she wanted to say.

Itachi let out a hum as he moved towards the drivers side; Toshiko passed him as she moved to the other side of the car towards the passengers seat. Toshiko, before she got into the car, threw her bookbag over her seat and into the back next to Itachi's two large suitcases.

"Is that all you really brought?" Itachi asked with a raised brow and an amused glint in his eyes.

"Yeah?" Toshiko responded as she slid into the passenger seat; "I know I still have pajama's here, at least enough for the next few days and I accidently left a pair of sneakers here last time I visited Obito and Ōoji-san so I didn't bother to bring any other shoes but these," Toshiko explained, pointing downwards towards the black flats she was wearing, "So between no pajamas and no extra shoes, all my clothes fit into my bag."

"Alright," Itachi said as he began to pull out of the parking lot.

They hadn't even fully pulled out of the lot when Toshiko saw Masshu peaking over the top of Itachi back seats. She smiled at the dog only to quickly frown when Masshu rocked forward and placed his paws over the seats, his nails biting into the seats pleather.

Toshiko turned in her seat so that she could look back at her dog, her finger outstretched and wagging in Masshu's direction.

"No. Down," Toshiko ordered Masshu, "Sit normally. Sit." Obediently Masshu's paws dropped and hit the trunks carpeted flooring. "Good boy," she said in a high pitched baby-voice, "You're such a good boy."

Masshu, as if agreeing, let out a loud bark. Toshiko smiled at the white Chow Chow before turning back in her seat only to grimace when she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror; her face was splotchy and red, and her eyes were the kind if pink you only ever got after crying, the kind that made her dark eyes seem darker then they really were.

Pointedly looking away from her reflection Toshiko peered out her window and at the familiar sights of Konoha that passed her and Itachi by.

Hokage Rock, the mountain range that ran along the north of the town— the one that if you squint hard enough looked like it had faces carved into it —still seemed to stretch endlessly into the sky; the same way it had seemed when she'd been a child.

Ichiraku Ramen, a tiny ramen restaurant that was situated between two larger buildings, looked exactly same as it always had. As she and Itachi passed by Toshiko even saw the familiar flash of blonde sitting along the Ramen shops counter.

Only to frown; because for every unchanged thing Toshiko saw the twenty-six year old found something that had changed or something new that had popped up since the last time she had stepped foot in Konoha and while she didn't hate the new changes she spotted outside the car window— like the pair of officers who stood idly outside the Konoha Bank, half-heartedly guarding it because they had been needed and without a doubt over due —Toshiko could still remember what had been there before.

She could remember what had once been in the same exact spot the new, nice looking restaurant Yakiniku Q stood. It'd been a Lighting Burger that'd burnt down one New Years Eve after a few of the local high school students had too much fun with the box of fire works they had managed to get their underage hands on.

Toshiko could remember how for days the smell of sulfur had lingered in the air; she could remember how the outside of the Konoha library— which she saw was a greyish sort of pink —had for years, been a bright ugly purple because someone had messed up when placing the order only for it to be kept that way because no one on the town counsel had wanted to figure out which funds to reallocate to repaint it properly.

Nostalgia— the leaden kind that made Toshiko's bones feel waterlogged —washed over her.

Was this growing up?

Was adulthood coming home— because while perhaps Toshiko had begun to build a life for herself in Fukuoka, the place her mind always flew to when thinking of the word home wasn't her one bedroom apartment or her tiny office at work but Konoha —to find out the places you had memory after memory of had been bulldozed while away?

Was adulthood just longing for a home that no longer existed?

Or was it something else? Was it supposed to be?

Shifting in her seat, looking away from her window and along the curve of her brothers face Toshiko couldn't help but think, Ōoji-san would know.

0.0.0.0

Toshiko's breath caught in her throat when Itachi pulled up to the curb outside Uchiha families home.

When she had been growing up Madara had always said that the house before Toshiko and Itachi was their families ancestral home, the one where— back before Konoha had been a village —the first Uchiha had been born centuries before and while the the dark colored, three story home looked old it didn't look quite as old as Madara claimed their family had been living in it.

Though that was without a doubt due to the fact that the home had been fixed up numerous times over the years. The roof had needed to be replaced after a terrible storm when Toshiko had been ten, the floors had been redone right before Toshiko had last visited as a pipe had burst; the pluming had been installed in the nineteenth century and by twenty-sixteen nearly all of it had been replaced at one point or another.

Toshiko got out of the car, and grabbed her backpack from where she'd tossed it, her eyes never once leaving the home as she slung the backpack over her shoulder.

Her home.

Ivy grew along the sides of it making the house look like it was one with the trees that surrounded it, the crows Madara had feed for years— since he had been a child —littered the roof, several of them cawing loudly whilst two circled the house overhead, looking for him.

Toshiko moved to the back of her brothers truck so that she could let Masshu out of the back only to pause mid-step when the front door opened.

She knew it was stupid— that her grand uncle was dead and waiting to be cremated —but for a second, as Shisui stepped out of the house she couldn't help but think of how much he had looked like a younger Uchiha Madara; the one Toshiko saw in the albums her grand uncle kept in his room.

"Hey you two finally made it!" Shisui called out with a wave.

Itachi, who'd gone to grab his suitcase turned at the voice his and Toshiko's cousin; Itachi shot Shisui a two finger sault only to beam when two small children— a little girl, no older then six, with pigtails that flapped behind her as she ran forward and a slightly younger boy who had a frog themed bandage over his right brow —both darted out of the house from behind Shisui's legs.

"Oji-san!" The two small children called out as they raced across the Uchiha family homes lawn, "Oba-san!"

Like her brother Toshiko smiled brightly at the sight of her cousins children; Hideko and Daiki.

Daiki, a four year boy who had inherited Shisui's pointed nose and dark rounded eyes but his mothers dark brown hair, ran head first into Itachi's legs while Hideko had skipped over to Toshiko; Toshiko— though she probably should have as Hideko had grown since the last time she'd seen the her —hadn't hesitated in scooping the young up.

Hideko let out a squeak as her hands gripped at the front of Toshiko's coat.

"I missed you Oji-san!" Toshiko heard Daiki cry into Itachi's knees as he wrapped his arms around Itachi's thin legs. Toshiko leaned her head back and looked at Hideko; from the corner of her vision Toshiko saw Shisui move towards them, out from their ancestral homes doorway.

"You saw me last month Daiki," Toshiko half heard her brother telling Daiki as she gleefully gapped at the fact that Hideko's tongue was poking out from an angry looking gap in her teeth.

"Too long!" The boy said as Toshiko spoke, their voices overlapping.

"You lost a tooth!" Toshiko bounced. Itachi who— like Toshiko had done with Hideko —had gathered Daiki in his armed turned in surprise at Toshiko's excited tone, "When? How?"

"This morning!" Hideko said, "It was wiggly so papa and Obi-ji—" when Hideko had first started talking she had constantly tripped over Obito-oji and instead taken to calling him Obi-ji, "—Tied one end of a string to it and then the other to a door and then papa slammed it really hard!"

Toshiko's brows shot up, her eyes swiveled to Shisui who's cheeks had pinkened. "Mari seriously let you two do that?"

Mari, Shisui's wife, was as kind as she was no nonsense; something she had to be if she was going to be married to likes of someone as lively— as headstrong, stubborn, driven, and at times inept —as Shisui. Apparently Shisui had fallen in love with her the first time he'd seen her; he'd walked into the coffee shop she had been working at and she had been yelling at a man who'd crossed several lines when harassing her coworker.

Mari was also a dentist, having finished up medical school just before her and Shisui's wedding.

Shisui blew a breath of air out of his mouth; Hideko beamed at Toshiko, her tongue still peaking through the gap.

"Obi-ji said it was better to ask forgiveness then permission."

"Which is what we did," Shisui added pointedly in his daughters direction, he looked at Toshiko and then Itachi, "And why your mother is a saint."

"She'd have to be, to be married to you," Itachi jabbed playfully.

Just as Toshiko and Sasuke were close, Itachi and Shisui were close; though unlike Sasuke and Toshiko who grew close after their parents deaths Itachi and Shisui had always— for as long as Toshiko could remember —been close. Growing up, before Toshiko and Sasuke had come to live with Madara and Itachi had gone off to university, Toshiko, Itachi and Sasuke had all lived three blocks up from Shisui and his mother. Almost all of Toshiko's earliest memories had Shisui in them; he was practically her third bother.

Not that it was surprising; from what Toshiko could remember from her fathers stories— because she had never met Shisui's father herself as the man had died of colon cancer shortly after Shisui's birth —both her father and Shisui's father had both been a lot like Itachi and Shisui, practically joined at the hip having had grown up together in the same house, raised together like brothers.

"You are so lucky you're holding my kid Tachi," Shisui said good naturedly. Toshiko set Hideko down, though the girl took to clutching the gray fabric of her coat, set on following her around.

"Please I could still take you," Itachi fired back. Itachi was usually the cool one of the bunch; always quite and laid back. The only time he became lively was when he was around Shisui and the only time he ever got loud when when he and Sasuke's arguments turned into full on fights.

"Yeah and have Mari look out the window and see?" Shisui scoffed as Toshiko lead Hideko around to the trunk, "Do you want her to freak out and go into early labor? Cause that's what'll happen if she sees us fighting with Daiki in your arms."

"Puppy!" Hideko cried once Toshiko opened the trunk and Masshu jumped from it and onto the street, his leash hit the concrete and his tail wagged back and forth as he looked at Hideko, though he didn't move from where he stood.

"Puppy?" Daiki sounded, "Where?"

"Can I pet him, please, please, please?" Hideko asked, tugging at Toshiko's coat, her bottom lip stuck out into a pout and the grey eyes she'd gotten from her mother pleading.

"Sure," Toshiko said, "But gently." Toshiko kneeled next to Hideko only to turn when Daiki— who stopped next to the trucks tail light; his eyes wide and mouth slightly agape at the sight of Masshu —appeared behind her. "Dai, do you want to pet Masshu too?"

Daiki nodded and Toshiko beckoned the boy over until, like his sister, he was standing next to her.

"Masshu," Toshiko said sternly, "Sit." He did, she then put a hand out and held it up to Masshu's nose for him to smell. "I want you two to do this alright? Let him smell you first."

Both Hideko and Daiki did; Daiki giggled as Masshu's wet nose swept over his palm. Masshu was large for a Chow Chow, bigger then Daiki but still smaller then Hideko, not that that made him any less intimidating when he was snarling; the whole reason Chow Chows had somewhat of an iffy reputation was because— or so Sasuke had said when he'd given her Masshu —of the fact they were great guard dogs.

According to Toshiko's brother— and Goggle —Chow Chows had once been used to guard many great palaces back when Daimyō's and Shōgun's ruled the country.

"He's so cute!" Hideko cooed, gently petting Masshu as she took a step closer to him. Her brother followed in her wake, scratching behind the dogs ears while Hideko got under his chin.

Masshu's eyes closed, his tail thumped a steady beat against the street.

"This is dog our little Sasu got you for protection?" Shisui laughed; Toshiko, with her arms crossed over her chest and her brows raised looked at her cousin.

"What's wrong with my dog?"

"Nothing," Shisui said, "He just looks like a total marshmallow. Literally. You'd think if our little Sasu-kun was going to get you a guard dog he'd get you-I dunno, one what doesn't look like it'd roll over for a bugler."

Toshiko could have defended Masshu and pulled Hideko and Daiki away so that she could show off how well trained he was, instead though, she looked at her cousin and said, "I'll give you twenty yen if you call Sasu that to his face."

"And what? Have him break me in half?" Shisui asked rhetorically, "In case you forgot your big brother's a scary mercenary now."

Toshiko swung her head from side to side, "Sasu, Tachi, Masshu, everyone else. Is there anyone in this house who can't break you in half?"

"Oh so that's how it is Toad?" Shisui asked; Toshiko felt her shoulders drop at the childhood nickname. Where her brothers and Obito— and friends —had called her Toshi, Shisui had always— for as long as she could remember —called her Toad after the Nintendo character her mother had dressed her up as for her first Halloween.

Shisui had been Bowser, Itachi had been Luigi, Sasuke had been Mario and she, because the store had been out of infant sized Princess Peach costumes, had been Toad.

"I hate you," Toshiko said without any real heart and with a snort as his children giggled under the weight of Masshu's kisses, Shisui slung an arm around Toshiko's shoulders. He pressed a brotherly kiss— because Shisui was as much her brother as he was her cousin; always right there with Itachi when she needed them —to the side of her head.

"How you holding up?" He murmured.

"Fine," Toshiko shrugged, she peered around Shisui to see Itachi was nowhere to be found having disappeared into the house, "Totally balled when I got off the train. I just-it doesn't seem real you know?"

"Tell me about it, when Obi called I thought he was joking. I mean when I heard him tell me that ōoji-san was dead, I thought no way." He scoffed with the shake of his dead. Toshiko took in a deep breath at his words— Ōoji-san was dead; Uchiha Madara was dead —and Shisui just tucked her under his arm more firmly then she had been.

"Come on we should get inside," he said to her a moment later, "Everyone been waiting for you and Tachi to show up-Kakashi even made dorayaki just for you."

Toshiko smiled at the mention of her eldest cousins husband and his cooking; up until her and Sasuke had learned to cook for themselves the only reason she and her brother had eaten anything other then soba noodles had been because of Kakashi, as Obito couldn't cook to save his life and soba noodles seemed to be the only thing Uchiha Madara ever ate when left to his own devices.

Hatake Kakashi— not Uchiha, because while he and Obito considered each other husband and husband, and had held a wedding ceremony when Toshiko had been eight, they weren't legally married —was a great guy who Toshiko was happy her cousin had chosen to spend his life with.

Sure he was also a total loser who read badly written cheesy romance novels and liked to dress his dogs up in silly costumes for fun but he was a nice, kind-hearted loser who loved her cousin wholeheartedly.

"Alright," Toshiko murmured, "Masshu!" She said loudly, moving out from under her cousins arm. Masshu got to his paws, his attention no longer on Hideko or Daiki but solely on Toshiko, "Follow."

Masshu listened and moved so that he was next to Toshiko as she and Shisui began to walk towards the house; Hideko and Daiki rushed over to Masshu's side.

"Oba-san?" Daiki asked in his adorable high pitched voice, "Can onee-chan and I please play with Masshu in the backyard?"

"Sure," Toshiko said, Hideko and Daiki both cheered as he went to pick Masshu's leash that been trailing behind him up off the ground.

"Come on Masshu," Daiki tugged, pulling the dog towards the side of the house so that neither he, Hideko or Masshu would have to cut through the house to get to the backyard. Masshu looked to Toshiko— who nodded at the dog —before following after Daiki and Hideko, disappearing around the bend of the house and towards the backyard moments later.

"You know they're going to want a dog after this, right?" Toshiko joked.

"Then they can take it up with the landlord," Shisui rolled his eyes.

"How's work been?" Toshiko asked her cousin, he shrugged.

"Same as always." Shisui was a software engineer, "My boss is looking to promote, I might get it."

"That's great Shisui," Toshiko said brightly knocking her elbow against her cousins, again he shrugged.

"It's not definite as of yet, everything's up in the air at the moment but hey-fingers crossed am I right?"

"Please you've been at that company since you graduated university, you're going to get it," Toshiko said confidently.

"Thanks" Shisui replied, the palm of his hand swept through his already tousled hair as he stopped to let Toshiko up the stairs that lead into the Uchiha family house first. The two of them, once through the door and in the titled well took off their shoes at the door before stepping further into the house.

Toshiko paused after having stepped up onto the wooden landing. Her throat suddenly tight; Madara wouldn't be on the back porch smoking from his pipe while he watched the kids play with Masshu and the coy circle around and around the pond he'd along ago put in.

He wouldn't be shuffling around the house, muttering to himself about things that needed to get fixed up either, nor would he be in the living room reading the paper or even in the kitchen eating a bowl of soba noodles.

Because he was dead.

Suddenly Toshiko was six again and the house felt far too large; strange and uncharted. Her heart pounded heavily in her chest. Growing up Madara was what made the house a home, for a grouchy and unpleasant as he could be— as he had been most days —him no longer skulking through the halls was disbarring.

Was wrong.

"Toshi!"

"Obi!" Toshiko threw her arms out and open in front of her at the sight of her cousin. He hadn't changed much truth be told, except for a few small details— like the several gray strands that had seemed to have accumulated in his hair since the last time Toshiko had seen Obito, and the dark bags that had developed under his eyes —Obito still looked exactly the same since Toshiko had last seen him.

The same— at least for Obito —being covered in scars, one armed, slightly blind and somewhat deaf.

Uchiha Obito had been in a terrible rockslide when he'd been fourteen; he'd lost his left eye and was missing his right arm. The entire right half of his face had been terribly scarred from the rocks nearly caving in that side of his skull and though he could still somewhat hear out of his right ear at nearly fifty Obito had started wearing a bright green hearing aid.

Obito's left arm wrapped around Toshiko's waist while hers wrapped around his shoulders. Shisui with a clap to Obito back passed the two and walked down the long hall that lead to the kitchen.

"I'm glad you're here," Obito said lowly, before pulling away, his palm against her hip.

"Like I wouldn't come," Toshiko responded, squeezing his shoulder before once more pulling him into a tight death grip of a hug.

A moment later after they had untangled themselves from each other and Obito had ushered her towards the kitchen Toshiko was met with Kakashi, Mari, Shisui and her brothers all gathered around the kitchen island, all quietly talking to one another, the dorayaki Shisui had mentioned was laid out in a dish on the island.

Sasuke had positioned himself next to Kakashi furthest from Itachi; Mari, who's hands rested atop her swollen stomach was leaning against Shisui front as he had wrapped his arms around her from behind, his lips pressed firmly against her shoulder.

"Yo," Kakashi waved, smiling from under his mask. Toshiko could remember all the times she and Sasuke and their friends— all of Toshiko's friends had been older then her; Sasuke's age and usually in his homeroom class —had tried to catch Kakashi without his mask on.

When he and Obito had held their wedding ceremony Obito's Maid of Honor, his and Kakashi's friend Rin, had handed the married pair a wreath size bouquet in order to hide Kakashi's face during their first kiss.

"Kakashi," Toshiko waved back, her head jerking upwards. Sasuke smiled faintly at Toshiko as Mari had moved out from Shisui's hold and hobbled herself over to Toshiko who— as best she could —hugged the woman. Mari rocked Toshiko from side to side.

"You've grown!" Mari said, still rocking Toshiko from foot to foot. Though Mari and Shishu had only married several years ago Toshiko had known the woman since she and Shisui had first started dating, back when she'd been eleven and in despite need of a womanly figure in her life.

"No I haven't Mari," Toshiko said, "I'm pretty sure I stopped growing in the tenth grade. You on the other hand—" Toshiko leaned back and rested one of her hands on the side of Mari's swollen stomach. She looked up at the older woman through her lashes, "—Do we know if it's a boy or a girl yet?"

The last time she had called Mari and Shisui the fetus hadn't been turned in the right direction for the obstetrician to determine the gender; just that the baby was healthy, which at the end of the day was all that was important.

"We do actually," Mari said, she looked to Shisui who straightened under his wife's gaze. He nodded, "It's a boy."

"That's great," Toshiko said; Itachi clapped Shisui on the back as Kakashi raised his cup of whatever up into the air.

"We actually-I mean, I only seems right, we did only find out the day before," Mari sputtered, looking between Toshiko and her brothers and cousins, "As long as it's okay with the rest of you, of course."

"As long as what is?" Sasuke asked.

"We want to name the baby Madara, in honor of ōoji-san," Shisui said. Toshiko's head jerked back, Sasuke frowned and Obito blinked owlishly between Mari and Shisui.

"Why?" Sasuke asked, "You didn't even like ōoji-san."

"Sasuke," Itachi said in very reprimanding voice, one that made the muscles in the back of Toshiko's neck jump. It hadn't even been ten minutes; her throat tightened with the need to suddenly scream.

"What?" Sasuke sniped at Itachi, "It's true."

Toshiko saw Itachi's eyes narrow and the youngest of the five Uchiha stepped up to the kitchen island, one hand behind her and wrapped around Mari's wrist. Her blood hot; their grand uncle was dead— the man who had raised three out of the five of them —he hadn't even been buried yet and they were fighting.

"It's fine," Toshiko told Shisui, though her focus was on Sasuke; her voice air and fair lighter then normal, "I mean you remember when Daiki was born right?" She looked at Shisui, "Ōoji-san almost had an aneurism when he found out you didn't name him after your dad."

Madara had gone on and on about how reusing family names was important, how it showed respect towards their ancestors and how— apparently —young people seemed to have none of that anymore.

"Yeah," Obito nodded, his tongue flicking out over his lips, "Honestly if you didn't name the baby after him the old man would probably come back from the grave so he could throttle you."

Sasuke shifted his weight, his lips pressed down into a frown. The combative look in his eyes was gone and had instead been replaced by a dull burning light, "Like he wouldn't come back to throttle us for any other reason."

Toshiko couldn't help but snort at her brothers words; he was right.

If anyone would reanimate themselves from death just to complain and lecture their still-living family members because they couldn't wait another fifty years until said family memeber died and joined them in the afterlife, it would be their grand uncle.

Toshiko pushed off the island.

"I'm going to put my stuff away-Sasu?" She looked at her brother, "Want to come help me?" It wasn't so much as request as it was an order; Toshiko jerked her head towards the kitchen archway. Sasuke's shoulders fell and though Toshiko knew he could have, he didn't argue with her when she took another step back, signaling that she was going to head to her childhood bedroom.

"Coming," her brother said before following her out of the kitchen. Sasuke, didn't bother to say anything before he slide Toshiko's backpack down her arm and over his; silently the pair clomped the houses two narrow flights of stairs until they were standing outside of Toshiko's old bedroom.

Sasuke's bedroom had been across the hall from hers.

At first Madara had tried to keep Itachi and Sasuke close together and Toshiko on the floor below, with him and Obito only to give up and swap Itachi and Toshiko's rooms after three months of Toshiko to sneaking out bed every other night and worming her way into Sasuke's; back then Toshiko used to have terrible nightmare's about the crash and the only person who could ever seem to comfort after them her was Sasuke.

Growing up Sasuke had always been the brother she'd run to when scared or hurt; Itachi was who she went to when she needed advice about life. Shisui was who she had went to when she was in trouble and needed to get out of it— preferably without her grand uncle or brothers finding out —while Obito was the person Toshiko had always went to when she needed to be cheered up.

Toshiko threw open her bedroom door and stepped into the room; the paint on the walls had faded over the years, dulling the champagne pink color Toshiko— and her best friend; a boy she still carried around in the back of her heart, but never wanted to think about —had painted them in middle school. Dozens of photos she hadn't taken with her to university or her new apartment in Fukuako were still hanging up on the wall.

The stuffed dinosaur her father had gotten her when she'd been born— the one she'd long ago named Mamarou; Protector —was on her bed; for the two years following the crash and the move she'd carried the yellow Tyrannosaurus-Rex everywhere with her.

School, play dates, the doctors; it hadn't mattered where she was, for years Mamarou had been with her.

"You don't have to play peace keeper all the time you know," Sasuke said, sitting on Toshiko's bed. Her bag next to him. "Itachi and I are big boys now, we don't need our little sister stepping in every time we have a disagreement."

Disagreement her ass, Toshiko could remember the arguments Itachi and Sasuke used to have, the ones that would quickly turn into screaming matches if no one— if she hadn't —intervened; more then once those fight's had nearly caused the two to come to blows.

"Yeah and if I don't who will? Shisui? Obi?" Toshiko rolled her eyes as she opened her backpack. She shot her brother a look from the corner of her eyes as she began to take her clothes out of her bag, "Did you really have to start though?"

"Come on," Sasuke scoffed, his voice bitter, "I didn't start anything-Shisui was never close to ōoji-san, not like we were."

"Maybe not," Toshiko conceded, "But he was still Shisui's ōoji too and besides, it's not like the rest of us are having kids any time soon so really, where's the harm?"

Sasuke shrugged, "It's wrong, ōoji-he, he was ours. Even when he was here Shisui was never interested in getting to know him, all he and Itachi ever wanted to do was chase after Obito and Kakashi and study. Him naming his kid Madara, it'd be like naming it after dad. Our dad."

Toshiko pushed her bag and clothes to the side and sat next to Sasuke, her head resting against his upper arm.

"Want to say that again and hear how you sound? Our ōoji?" Sasuke let out an indignant huff, "Sasu, if ōoji-san was here you'd know what he'd say right?"

The hum Sasuke let out sounded like an irked growl; "Stop being a piece of shit and be nice to your brother and cousins. Uchiha's are supposed to stick together. He'd say how we're stronger together." United we stand and divided we fall; and all that.

"Exactly," Toshiko nodded.

Over the years since they'd come into his care Madara had told Toshiko— and the boys —about him and his brothers. About how in the beginning there'd been five of them; Uchiha's Akihiko, Keiji, Isao, Madara and Inzuna and how the oldest four of them had all fought like cats and dogs growing up for a myriad of different reasons and how the minute he had turned fifteen Madara had left Konoha and his brothers behind without so much as a second thought.

Madara had told them all about how he had taken off to travel the world— all about his travels —and how one by one his brothers had followed until the last to leave nearly thirty years later was the youngest brother of the bunch— Toshiko and Sasuke and Itachi's own grandfather —Inzuna.

Madara had said how he hadn't thought much of his brothers while he'd been traveling. That until he'd come back to Konoha at nearly fifty years old with expectations, Madara hadn't really allowed himself to think of his brothers and what had become of them, partially because he had been too angry to think of them— even years after having left Konoha —and partially because he had expected them to do fine so to him, there hadn't been a reason to think— worry —about them.

He'd expected them to all have large families, homes of their own that they'd built near enough to their ancestral land only to come back and find grave after grave; his father was dead, as were all of his brothers except for one.

His second eldest brother Kenji had died first, shortly after leaving Konoha. He'd taken a job as a fisher and gone overboard, drowning before his crewmates could pull him back aboard.

Next had been Akihiko who'd passed from some kind of illness; his widow and son— Obito's father —were still in town. That was how Madara had met them, at the foot of his eldest brothers grave. After Akihiko, Isao and his wife, a sister-in-law Madara hadn't even known he'd had, had both died in a house fire. At the time they'd left behind a young son— Shisui's father —who Madara's last living brother Inzuna had taken in.

Inzuna had been in his late thirties when Madara— who was nearly thirteen years older then him —had found him. He was no longer the same little boy who had once followed Madara around like some kind of lost duckling; he had buried his father by himself, survived the war and married the nurse who had swept him off his feet and save his life all in one breath. He'd had a son and a nephew he adored like his own.

He had changed; grown up, and to Inzuna growing up meant he no longer wanted anything to do with Madara.

Madara always said that if it weren't for the fact that he had moved back to Konoha after Inzuna had turned him away— back into their families ancestral home with Obito's grandmother and father —Madara would have never known his younger brother had died shortly after Shisui's birth.

Nor would had Toshiko's grand uncle ever gotten the letter Inzuna had written him; the one Fugaku— Toshiko's father —had given him upon her grandfathers death.

The only part of the story Madara had never told them what was in the letter; all he ever said about the letter his brother had left him was that it was a letter full of regrets, ones they— Toshiko and her brothers and cousins —had to be careful not to repeat.

"It almost doesn't feel real," Sasuke said a moment later so quietly Toshiko had nearly missed it. Like what he was saying was some kind of secrete, and perhaps to Sasuke— who always looked like he rather have his teeth pulled then actually talk about the emotions raging inside of him —it was. "I miss him."

"Yeah," she said thickly. "I do too."

0.0.0.0

Hours after arriving and settling in Toshiko was in her room; Masshu was curled up at her side, tired after having played with Daiki and Hideko. She was supposed to be sleeping— napping —before dinner but she couldn't, not when she had a hundred and one thoughts racing through her mind, weighing her down.

Masshu's head rested on her stomach, his golden eyes met Toshiko's dark ones and the human girl let out a heavy sounding sigh.

There was a box of pictures in her closet pushed all the way to back of the shelf Kakashi had put up year ago for her. They weren't of Madara or her brothers or cousins but rather of someone else Toshiko missed.

Someone who she shouldn't miss, who was no longer hers to miss.

Toshiko threaded her fingers through Masshu's white fur and scratched between her dogs shoulder blades as she willed herself to stay on the bed. She was already sad; already mourning one loss. She tried to tell herself that there was no room in her heart for another but Toshiko knew that was a lie.

There was always room in her heart for him; it was as if her heart had been made for him. Molded into his shape and left with the imprint of his fingers so that it would never forget him.

"I am such a loser," Toshiko said to Masshu. She knew if Sasuke or Shisui came in and found her thinking of the box they'd burn it. Say it was doing more harm then good collecting dust up there; that it had been years.

Ten years, to be exact. A decade.

Obito would say she needed to move on and not in the half hearted way she'd been doing since university but truly. Really.

Madara wouldn't though, he never had when the topic of dating�� of her moving on —came up. He'd always given her a measured look and told her how he understood; Uchiha's felt differently then others. They felt more deeply, and while perhaps sometimes they kept their feelings bottled up that didn't mean those feelings weren't there.

Weren't consuming them.

Toshiko curled herself around Masshu and let herself feel; in two hours time she'd be at her grand uncles favorite restaurant trying to swallow her feelings with a side of soba noodles. At least until she was back inside her room and could cry into her pillow.

0.0.0.0

Yashuda was a izakaya style restaurant that had opened when Konoha had first been founded; Toshiko's grand uncle had been going to the restaurant since he'd been a child, back before they had ever even thought of buying the building next-door and expanded. Yashuda had been where Madara had taken Toshiko and her brothers and cousins to celebrate everything— birthday's, achievements, it hadn't mattered what the reason for celebration was for —so it had only made sense to have their first dinner back in town there.

The restaurant lights were low and the new song radio stations loved to over play— Here by Alessia Cara —was set low over the speakers in the background; the bar on the other side of the restaurant was littered with people in loose ties and ties and long skirts, all celebrating the end of the work week.

Toshiko had squeezed herself between Itachi and Hideko, who had, before they all left for the restaurant, had made sure to let everyone know that she wanted to sit next to her mother and Toshiko.

Shisui had Daiki on his lap as they waited for the entrees— their appetizers littered the table, some of the plates with nothing one them and others with pieces of edamame and shumai still left —and though their hands were out of sight Toshiko knew her eldest cousin and his husband's fingers were interlocked together under the table.

Sasuke was across from tell telling a story about how he and the rest of Taka— his team; Toshiko had met them once in passing when she'd been visiting Sasuke —had snuck into a country Sasuke refused to name and rescued the daughter of a Swiss diplomat. His lips had twisted upwards as he recounted how Jugo, the tall, orange haired man he worked along side had nearly shot himself in the foot when a large— nearly hare sized —rat had run over his foot.

"But did he scream?" Kakashi asked, his eyes alight with mischief as he leaned across Obito and towards Sasuke.

"You know it. Jugo can talk all the shi—" Mari coughed loudly in Sasuke's direction, her eyes flickered pointedly to Hideko, "—Uff, stuff," Sasuke covered, "He want's but when you get down to it he's a complete cry baby."

"Tall, bright hair, over emotional. Just your type, right?" Shisui snickered as Daiki scribbled on the placemat he'd been given when they'd all been seated.

Toshiko took a sip of her plum wine in favor of laughing. Obito, who like her, only liked sweet drinks, had ordered them the Awamori Umeshu, a plum wine, and truth be told Toshiko couldn't find herself disappointed in her cousins choice of drink.

Sasuke's face went pink, "Shut up."

"Ooh," Hideko sung, "Sasu-oji has a crush!"

"I do not," Sasuke said. He picked one half of the chopsticks he'd sat down when he'd finished picking at the appetizers and flipped it so that he was holding the end that picked up the food; Sasuke leaned across the table and bopped Hideko lightly in the nose, "Twerp."

Hideko's mouth dropped open indignantly. She moved to kneel on her seat— so that like Sasuke she could lean across the table —only for Mari to grab hold of Hideko's shoulder.

"But mama!" Hideko tried as she attempted to wiggle out from under her mothers hold only to pause when she caught sight of the sobering look Mari was shooting her. The young girl's eyes widened as she allowed her mother to push her back down into her seat.

When Mari turned to speak to Itachi Hideko leaned against the table and poked her tongue out at Sasuke who pretended not to see it in favor of answering Obito's question; whether or not this was the kidnapping that had made international news when it'd first happened.

"What do you think?" Sasuke replied.

"That's why I'm asking you!"

"Since when dose he tell us though," Shisui said with a smile, "Hell I bet if Sasuke here saved the world he wouldn't tell us whether it was him or not, just that he and his team went on a cool mission."

"They're jobs not missions," Sasuke rolled his eyes, "And I can't. I know you can't read and all but there are these things called non-disclosure agreements I have to sign every time I renew my contract."

"I can read thank you," Shisui snarked back, his usual easy-going smirk stretching across his face, "Besides what's a little fine between family?"

"Little?" Sasuke scoffed, "Try eleven million, fourteen thousand and five hundred yen."

Toshiko let out a squeak at the number, Itachi nearly choked on his drink— showing he'd been at least half listening to Sasuke and Shisui's conversation—while Kakashi let out a low sounding whistle and Shisui's head bobbed back.

"Jesus," he said, "Never mind, keep your secretes."

"Sweet, foods here." And like that the table of Uchiha's— and Kakashi —stopped talking and turned on command in the direction of their waitress and the other members of the Yashuda wait staff that had been roped into bringing them their food.

One by one the wait staff dropped plates of various cooked mountain vegetables, ika kara age and maguro tatuta age— deep fried squid with sweet chili sauce and flash fried tuna —samurai steak, chicken curry before they placed a large bowl of what had been Madara's favorite, the yakisoba combination platter in the middle of the table.

Once the wait staff had once again spirited off to the back of the restaurant and to the other tables and the patrons sitting at them, the eight Uchiha's and Hatake Kakashi paused; Obito raised his glass. The rest of them followed; Hideko raised her glass of juice along side her mothers and Toshikos'.

"I propose a toast," Obito said in an almost dignified sort of voice and familiar playful kind of smirk, that only meant one thing, "To Uchiha Madara. He was spiteful and rude and maybe he wasn't the kindest but once you peeled back his layers he was good. So, to ōoji-san, may he be happy where he is and may he rest pleasantly until the rest of kick the bucket and annoy him once more. Here!"

"Here here!" Toshiko and the others called before bringing the rims of their cups to their mouths and drinking.

"Time to dig in," Shisui grinned, setting Daiki back in his own chair next to him. "Itadakimasu."

Toshiko, after following her older cousins example and expressing thanks for her meal, reached for the cooked mountain vegetables and ika kara age, pausing over the samurai steak before she decided to grab herself a piece of that as well.

If Itachi liked it Sasuke would— like a petulant child —eat most of it so that Itachi wouldn't be able to while if if Kakashi decided that he he liked it, Obito would pile almost all of the steak up onto his own plate to save it so that Kakashi would be able to eat it at home, where no one would be gawking at him, trying to see what the rest of his face looked like.

"Obi-ji!" Hideko said with a frown, Toshiko, mid bite looked at the girl from the corner of her eyes and then to Obito who had the bowl of yakisoba noodles in hand, "You can't eat sōsofu's soba noodles! You know that's all he eats, if you eat that what will he eat when he comes back?"

Toshiko felt the bite of fuki and other mountain vegetables turn to ash in her mouth.

Obito's smile fell and Sasuke, who'd been chewing on his bite of curry grabbed his still somewhat full glass of sake and brought it up to his lips.

"Sweetheart," Mari said gently, "Hideko-chan, papa and I told you about Sōsofu-san."

"Yeah, you and papa said he went away," Hideko blinked, "But Obi-ji even said we'd see him later and sōsofu-san's going to be hungry when he comes back." Hideko's voice was filled with such innocence only a child— untouched by any true horrors the world beheld —could have.

Mari's face softened as it fell.

"No, sweetheart. Sōsofu-san isn't coming back." Hideko's brows creased as her face twisted in confusion.

It was the same look Sasuke had worn when he'd woken up in the hospital after the crash and Itachi had told him about their parents. Like he hadn't understood what the words coming out of Itachi's mouth— "Mom and dad are dead, Sasuke." —had meant.

"What do you mean he's not coming back, he couldn't have moved we were at his house before, so he has to come back."

"Hideko-chan," Itachi said gently, moving to the edge of his chair, "You know what death is right? When characters on television and in movies die, you know what the means, right?" Hideko nodded, the crease between her brows got deeper.

Her brother looked at his sister and then at their mother and father and the rest of their family, unlike Hideko who was viably connecting the dots in her head, he still looked lost.

"It means that they're gone," Hideko said softly. She shook her head, "But Sōsofu-san can't be dead though. He's not."

Toshiko blinked her eyes rapidly, she was in a restaurant. She was twenty-six— a fully grown adult woman with a job and an apartment and a dog all of her own —she couldn't break down crying next to her cousins daughter in public, no matter how sad she was.

She took another sip of her wine; the once sweet flavor suddenly bitter on her tongue.

Hideko's bottom lip trembled as her eyes glossed over.

"Hey Hideko-chan!" Shisui said in a falsetto tone, the smile that was on his face was obviously fake, "How about you and I go outside for some air okay?"

"Okay," Hideko croaked, her small voice cracking. Shisui didn't hesitate in picking her up once he'd wiggled out from between Daiki and Sasuke; when neither of them were could any longer been seen Toshiko set her chopsticks down on her plate, her eyes flickering to the others.

"I'm-I need to use the restroom, I'll be right back." Sasuke nodded and with that Toshiko— with her eyes turned downwards towards the floor in hopes no one would see the tears in them —all but hit the ground running which was why she wasn't all that surprised to have hit someone as she went to turn the corner that lead to the restaurants bathrooms.

Hand's grabbed at Toshiko's waist as she teetered backward, her right hand had shot out and fisted itself into the white button-down of whomever she'd nearly run down.

"Sorry about—" Toshiko cut herself off with a blink. Her mouth had dropped open slightly at the sight of the man before her; her breath caught in her throat. Her heart both stopped and sped up. The tears that had been welling up in her eyes only second before were no longer anywhere to be found.

"Shika?" She breathed out, though she still seemed unable to take a breath. Not that she was really focused on breathing, but rather the man in front of her, "Maru?" she added on choppily after another blink; he really was there in front of her.

She swallowed the leaden lump that had appeared with Nara Shikamaru's arrival.

"Shikamaru-san," she said again, this time all together and with a slight tremor.

"Toshi," he said in the same kind of shaky, breathy voice she'd used; he didn't however, add on the rest of her name or any honorific but instead smiled at her. Warmly and brightly in a way that made Toshiko feel like she had been both submerged into an ice bath and thrown onto hot coals; like she was cold and burning at the same time.

"I didn't realize you were back," Shikamaru said, his smile dimmed and he looked sorry. Not the pitiful kind of sorry most people wore after someone's death— like they were sorry for you —but rather, Shikamaru's smiled dimmed and the sorry look that overtook his face was the kind that read apologetic; like if he could somehow fit it— bring Uchiha Madara back to life —he would.

"I mean," he corrected, "I heard about your ōoji-everyone has. I'm sorry for your loss. Madara, he was a good guy. I just, didn't realize you back already." The point of his tongue darted out and swept along his bottom lip.

"Yeah," Toshiko said, "I got in this morning."

"You drove?" Shikamaru's brows darted up in astonishment. Toshiko snorted at the question, and for a moment her nerves melted away.

"Are you kidding me? I took the train in." While she was fine in the passenger seats of cars— sort of; that was more a recent development that had only just happened and only with people she trusted —just the thought of even driving one made the twenty-six year old break out into an anxious sweat.

"That makes sense," Shikamaru nodded, his shoulders dropped and he sucked in a deep breath of air; something Toshiko felt she might have forgotten how to do. "How have you been though? Besides your ōoji, I mean."

He cares, a tiny voice in the back of Toshiko's mind crowed happily. Snuffing that voice out Toshiko shrugged, only to be reminded that not only was her hand was still wrapped up in the front of Shikamaru's shirt, twisted around the forest green tie he had loosed around his neck but his were still planted on her waist.

With a burning face Toshiko dropped her hand and took two half-steps backwards; Shikamaru twitched where he stood.

"Fine," she said. "You?"

"Good," he replied, his shoulders once more tense. His hands shoved deep into his pockets. "I work in the mayors office now," he said with a proud half-smile.

"That's great," Toshiko congratulated, "Really."

"And you?" Shikamaru wondered, "You graduated last year, right?"

Ten months ago but really, who was counting? Toshiko nodded, "Yeah, I got a job in Fukuoka at the prosecutors office about six months ago. I just sat second chair to my first homicide trial last month."

"That's great!" Shikamaru said, his hands moved from his pockets to her arms only to pause, hovering over them like he wasn't quite sure if he should go in for the hug he'd about to give. A metal band on his right hand gleamed under the restaurants lights.

Toshiko's heart dropped into the pit of her twisting stomach.

"You're married," she gasped, unable to tear her eyes away from the silver band on his finger. Shikamaru's fingers curled inwards and he moved his hand so that it was resting against his chest. Toshiko finally looked away from the ring and to him; to his burning face.

"I-no," he shook his head, "Sure I have a ring but me? Married?" He let out a wheeze Toshiko supposed was meant to me an airy laugh; she hadn't ever heard him make that sound before. "I'm not," he said, his voice firm as he slipped the ring off his ring finger and between his thumb and index ones. "It's complicated. Long story, really, sort of troublesome to explain, you know?"

No. Toshiko wanted to say; because how could she know any sort of story in conation to marriage when she had only ever loved one man before. The man before her. It felt as if ice had been poured down shirt and was sliding down her back. No I don't.

"Yeah," she said instead.

"I could though," Shikamaru said in a half rushed but overall breathless sort of voice; it was the sort of voice Toshiko rarely heard growing up, the kind Shikamaru used when his plans fell apart and he was winging it. "Explain it, over lunch or something. Maybe? How long are you back for?"

If Toshiko hadn't known better— hadn't remembered the last ten years —she would have thought Shikamaru sounded nervous when he asked to explain his long ring-centered story.

"Not long," Toshiko said, "Just until after the funeral. I leave the day after that." So four days in total.

Toshiko tried not to think about the twitch in Shikamaru's shoulder or the way his knuckles had gone white and just how off kilter the man in front of her looked as he nodded but rather— as Shikamaru grimaced —Toshiko focused on the curve of his nose and how much she hoped he couldn't hear her hemorrhaging heart pounding in her chest.

"Then maybe we could meet up then. Grab breakfast together or something before you leave?" Shikamaru proposed.

"Are you sure, I mean, working for the mayor must have you pretty busy? I'd hate to be troublesome and for you to have to go out of your way." Troublesome; a word Toshiko hadn't used in a decade rolled off her tongue like it was nothing. Like it had always been there, like she always used it.

"You wouldn't be," Shikamaru said, "Saying that I'm going out of my way makes it seem like a favor or something, and it wouldn't be Toshi. I want to catch up."

Oh, Toshiko thought. She smiled though, through the pain. It was a small doll-like smile.

Why couldn't he have gotten meaner in the past ten years? Or uglier? Why did he have to look as beautiful has he'd always been; why did he have to have ring around his finger?

"Maybe," she said, which just meant not at all, "I'll have to see. Everyone is really broken up about ōoji-san's death."

"Right," Shikamaru swallowed, he nodded, "Right, of course."

His head tipped downwards and his eyes connected to Toshiko's. They were as dark as she could remember; they reminded Toshiko of Tahitian Pearls. Toshiko moved to step around him only for Shikamaru to step with her.

"I'm here if you-any of you—," he said, earnestly, "—Need something. Anything, it doesn't matter what, or when. I'm here."

And there was the kindness Toshiko had fallen in love with years ago; no matter how lazy Shikamaru could be, no matter how unmotivated he was at any given moment, if she had needed him— his help —he had always been right there next to her, willing to do whatever need be.

Toshiko couldn't help but think that maybe he had gotten meaner over the past ten years. That it would have been nicer— hurt less —if he had reached through Toshiko's chest and twisted her hear manually.

"Thank you Shikamaru," Toshiko said softly before moving around him. She tried not to look like she was running towards the women's bathroom, where Toshiko— for the first time since she had last found herself in Konoha; since she had last seen Shikamaru —broke down in stall.

As she cried in the restaurant stall Toshiko couldn't help but wish she could go back twenty years. Back to the start.

#shikamaru nara #shikamaru nara x reader #shikamaru nara x oc #oc: toshiko #my writing #naruto fanfiction #shikamaru nara fanfiction

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raviotherabbit · 3 years ago

Text

royal pain in the ass- chapter 6

Chapter 6: Era of the Great Sea Captain Tetra saves some castaways.

[first] - [previous] - [next] read it on ao3!

△ ▲△

There was just something about Outset Island.

Tetra hated pretty much everything about it. The people there were soft, even the fishermen who spent their days hunting down the monsters of the sea. Everyone was preoccupied with their simple lives. Rearing their children, washing their clothes and hanging them to dry, playing with wooden swords…

They all went on like this, day after day, as though a great and powerful kingdom did not lay in ruins, miles below the sea.

But still, some little part of Tetra couldn’t help but want it. She wanted that simple life, to live without a care in the world. The burden on her shoulders was heavy, but the time she’d spent on Link’s little island, where nobody needed anything from her, had lifted it.

So when she found Link on Outset, of all places, well… that just sweetened the deal, didn’t it?

Rats… Wind was his name, now, wasn’t it? At least for now it was.

The best part of Outset, though, had to be the woods. The Forest of Fairies was quiet these days, which perhaps made it all the more ideal in Tetra’s opinion. She never got a second alone on her ship, not truly, but she could here.

Gently, she placed a hand on one of the trees, tracing the grooves in its bark. She was familiar with this one. When the Helmaroc King dropped her, it was this tree that she fell into, the branches snagging on her clothes. And then she met Wind.

Goddesses, where would she be without Wind? If this one, special, stupid kid hadn’t found her that day. Part of her wanted to think she could have taken Ganondorf on her own, and that was the part of her she let control the narrative.

Still, the Forest of Fairies was beautiful. Tetra could only hope their new home would have places half as pretty. With its cool breeze rustling fallen leaves, the ever-present smell of fresh dew, and gentle harp strumming…

Wait. Who the hell was playing the harp up here?!

Her good mood thoroughly ruined, Tetra followed the sound of the harp. Eventually, she came upon one of the heroes, sitting at the forest’s cliff.

What was his name? Cloud? No, that’s close, but not right… What’s a Hero of the Clouds, anyway? That sounded stupid. Hero of the Sun? Hero of the… Wind? No wait-

Sky! It’s Sky!

Yikes, though. Sky didn’t look so good. He kept plucking at the strings of his harp, but each time he only made it a few notes in before wincing. There were dark circles under his eyes, which kept darting up towards his clear, blue namesake with desperation.

Tetra almost left right then and there.

But there was a voice in the back of her head, one that sounded a bit like Wind, a bit like an old king. A princess would try to help her people.

Ugh. Fine. This would be a good practice run, anyway.

“Hey, buddy,” Tetra awkwardly tried to put on her cheerful princess voice. “What’s- what’s up?”

Sky looked back at her, almost no emotion on his face. “Oh, Zelda.”

“It’s Tetra,” she responded instinctively, mentally cringing at her own bluntness. She’s trying to be nice now!

“Right, Tetra,” Sky nodded, as if reminding himself. “I have a question for you.”

“Alright, I can answer questions.” Tetra took a seat next to Sky, letting her legs dangle off the cliff’s edge. “What do you want to know?”

“Your Hyrule,” he gestured towards the Great Sea, expanding as far as the eye could see. “How did it come to be this way?”

Right, this guy’s the first one. “Well, Ganondorf was sealed in the Evil Realm,” she started.

“Then what happened?”

“He broke free. The people of Hyrule, they prayed to the Goddesses to save them from his wrath, and-” Tetra swallowed. “And they flooded the land.”

For a moment, Sky was silent. His grip on his harp was tight, and for a moment, Tetra was concerned he’d break it. It was such a nice piece of treasure, after all, and it’d be a shame if it were harmed.

Finally, he spoke again. “How many died?”

“What?” Tetra almost shouted, certain she’d misheard him.

“When the flood came, how many died?” Sky reiterated, his gaze focused on the waves lapping at Outset’s shore.

“I- I don’t…” she sputtered helplessly. “I don’t know.”

“This is the legacy I’ve left the world,” Sky said. “What did their blind faith bring them?”

△ ▲△

Standing on the stern of her ship, Captain Tetra takes in a deep breath and sighs. There’s nothing like the open ocean, is there? Cutting through the waves, the smell of salt in the night air…

With Wind gone on his little hero quest, searching for new land has taken a backseat. He would kill her if she even thought about founding her kingdom without him there by her side. Well, at least try to. They both know who would really win that fight.

But it’s not so bad. New Hyrule can wait, Tetra has a chance to focus on some of her own passions.

“Captain!” It’s Gonzo, Tetra’s right-hand man. He stops a few feet behind her. “We’ve spotted the Ghost Ship at Greatfish Isle!”

Like hunting down and destroying every last Ghost Ship on the high fucking seas.

“Excellent.” Tetra smirks. “Alter course for Greatfish. We’re going to destroy some undead tonight.”

“Uh, that’s just it, Captain,” Gonzo says. “There’s people on the island, yeah? And they’re fighting the monsters!”

“What?!” Tetra snaps back towards her subordinate. “Who would be stupid enough to fight a Ghost Ship?!”

△ ▲△

Of course, the second they noticed the ship, that’s when the undead started jumping onto their islet.

“Get it off get it off get it off get it off!” Flora desperately shouts as, using the Magnesis Rune, she slams the shield from Artemis down onto the Stalfos that has an iron-tight grip on her ankle.

“Flora, use the shield!” Dusk shouts over her shoulder, focused more on parrying off the sword of a Stalfos. In the same swift movement, she drives her rapier cleanly into its skull. As much as Artemis hates to admit it, Dusk is good. “Don’t make it a mallet!”

“She knows what she’s doing!” Artemis contends, just as her sword meets the lantern of a poe. “She doesn’t need you telling her what to do!”

“Now isn’t the time for arguing with each other!” Sun’s exasperation drips off her words. She’s just barely able to duck, dodging a swing from a Stalfos. On the ground, she kicks a leg out, knocking the walking skeleton off its feet.

Artemis’s eye twitches, and she snaps back around in anger. “I’m just saying-!”

But that moment of distraction was just a smidge too much. The Poe rises behind her, raising its glowing hand, preparing for the one, fatal strike. But before Flora can even gasp, or Sun can yell for her to watch out-

BANG!

The Poe’s lantern shatters, and with an agonizing shriek, it disappears.

There’s another ship in the water, bearing a red and white sail with two crossed swords. And there, gripping onto a rope as she leans off the bowsprit, is Tetra, the barrel of her gun smoking.

“Tetra!” Artemis could breathe a sigh of relief. “Thank the Goddess you’re here!”

Tetra blinks, taken aback for a moment. “Queenie?! I thought the Time War was over!”

“Fight now, talk later!” Sun shouts over the Stalfos she has in a headlock.

Tetra nods, tilting her head back towards her ship. “Boys! Lend them a hand!”

At her word, a crew of men lapel down from the ship and into the shallow waters. With their cutlasses drawn, they begin slicing away at the Poes and Stalfos attacking the stranded ladies.

Tetra sharply whistles, catching Artemis’s attention. “Queenie, take your best, leave the other two behind! We’re boarding that ship!”

Artemis bites her cheek. Her best, huh?

Well, there was no doubt about which of them had the most training.

“Dusk!” she cups her mouth as she yells.

And Dusk almost instantaneously freezes, her rapier dropping slightly as she looks at Artemis, her eyes wide.

“Come with me to the ship!” Artemis points towards the Ghost Ship. “We need you!”

For a moment, a very brief one, Dusk doesn’t react. Then, she smirks, a smugness only a queen could have.

“It’s about time,” she says.

△ ▲△

The second they step into the Ghost Ship’s hull, Dusk’s nose wrinkles. “I can practically feel the dust in the air.”

The whole interior of the ship seems to be filled with smog, solidifying the undead ambience. Its wooden walls groan as it’s rocked by the sea, giving off the same eerie blue lighting it had on the outside. Below them, on the ship’s bottom, were monsters. Poes and ReDeads.

“We need to get back there,” Tetra gestures towards the back of the ship with her cutlass. “Once we take the treasure, the ship will disappear.”

“Right, because you’re pirates,” Dusk crosses her arms. “Remind me how you two know each other, again?”

Artemis and Tetra exchange a glance. “The War Across the Ages,” the former explains. “We recruited many individuals adrift from their own eras.”

“But pirates? Really?” Dusk gestures to Tetra with a hand.

“I’ll have you know, I’m the greatest pirate who ever sailed this sea,” Tetra jabs her thumb towards herself.

Artemis rolls her eyes. “Come on you two, behave. You’re cousins, after all.”

“Wh-what?!” Dusk sputters. “I thought you said her name was Tetra!”

Tetra snorts. “Yeah, but to some people, it’s Princess Zelda.” She holds out her hand, winking at Dusk. “Welcome to the family, cousin!”

Hesitantly, Dusk shakes her hand. Tetra responds with a shocking amount of vigor.

“Now that that’s settled,” Artemis claps her hands together. “How about we defeat some undead?”

As if answering her question, Tetra shoots right at the ReDead’s skull. While her bullet is enough to defeat the single ReDead, the sound also draws the attention of the other monsters on the ship. Slowly, they begin shambling towards the ledge the ladies stand on.

“Oh great,” Dusk mutters to herself. “There goes our element of surprise.”

“Dusk, we should stick together,” Artemis suggests, careful in her phrasing as she draws her rapier. “We can watch each other’s backs.”

With a nod, Dusk retrieves her own sword. “Let’s go,” is the only thing she says before she jumps off the ledge.

△ ▲△

These new guys, Sun decides, are good. They’re decent with their swords, though she knows they’d be better if they’d attended the Knight’s Academy. At least they’re good enough to make up for both Artemis and Dusk’s absences.

One of the taller pirates slices clean through the neck of a Stalfos, its head landing just at Sun’s feet. Rearing her foot up, she crushes it under her boot. Of course, she’d never admit it, but that crunch! is such a sweet sound. Like music to her ears.

Sun’s ears twitch slightly as they pick up the faint sound of clanging metal. She’s just in time to duck again, missing a swing from an angry Poe.

“Hey, pirates!” she shouts, hoping to catch the attention of at least one of them. “Think one of you can take this for me?”

The tall one with the bandana nods, quickly moving himself between Sun and the Poe. She sighs. She just isn’t equipped to deal with that, today. Maybe if she’d remembered to bring a sword…

Sure, hand-to-hand combat isn’t usually her first choice, but Sun has grown to appreciate it over the past few minutes. Hylia, not just appreciate it. She loves it, more than she ever thought she would. Who would have guessed that punching things would be so fun?

“Well, well, look who’s decided to grace us with her presence.”

Oh, that sounds considerably less fun!

Turning behind her, Sun sees what must be the monster Artemis and Flora told her about. Because as her eyes lay on him, it’s almost as if his form is wobbling, before solidifying into a figure she knows well.

It’s a shadow of Sky. A representation of her Link, but if he was dunked in black paint and given terrifying red eyes.

“I’ve heard of you,” Sun’s eyes narrow at Dark Link.

“Ah, and I know you, your grace,” Dark Link laughs, and though it’s cruel and contemptuous, some part of her head thinks, ‘That’s familiar.’

“But tell me,” he continues. “What’s Hylia herself doing so far from home?”

Sun freezes, her blood running cold. “How did you…? Who are you?”

“What, you don’t recognize your own hero?” Dark Link frowns mockingly. “You know, I thought he’d take the longest to crack, but just a few whispers about the sea, and-” he abruptly snaps. “He was as good as gone. Now that fairy brat, on the other hand…”

“Stop it,” Sun snaps at him. “Just tell me where they are.”

“Oh? And why would you care?” The shadow tilts his head, and for a moment, his confusion almost seems genuine. “You goddesses have never cared for the fates of your heroes.”

And then, there’s a spark inside of Sun, and it sets her whole mind on fire. “I am not Hylia,” she asserts, grabbing onto his arm. “I. Am. ZELDA!”

It’s a moment of pure focus, the first time she’s ever said anything like that aloud, let alone screamed it. Unfortunately, it’s also a moment of distraction, just as Dark Link wanted. He draws his shadowy Master Sword, raises it above his head, and-

“SUN!”

Suddenly, Flora pushes Sun out of the way. The sword’s hilt strikes her head with a loud, sickening CRACK! She ends up collapsing right on top of her ancestor.

“Flora!” Sun gasps, tilting the scholar’s chin up to get a better look at her. After such a nasty blow, it makes sense that she’s out cold. But there’s blood, a lot of it, practically running down her face from above her left eye.

“You hurt her!” Sun exclaims, drawing Flora as close as she can bring her. “You son of a-!”

But, just then, they’re interrupted by two more shouts. In all the hassle, Sun hadn’t even noticed the Ghost Ship’s disappearance. Dusk, Artemis, and Tetra stand on the shore, staring right at the mess in front of them.

In an almost simultaneous burst of light, Artemis and Dusk summon their Bows of Light. Tetra draws her pistol, all three taking aim at Dark Link.

“Not another move, asshat,” Tetra warns him. “Attacking a princess is rude, you know.”

“She’s a queen,” Artemis informs her.

“Attacking a queen is rude, you know,” Tetra amends.

“Well,” Dark Link raises his hands above his head. “It seems we’re at an impasse.” He catches Sun’s eye one last time. “Farewell for now, your grace.”

Before any shots can be fired, Dark Link’s shadowy mass collapses in on itself. Like a splash of water, he sinks into the ground and disappears.

As the adrenaline fades from her body, Sun suddenly looks down at the bleeding body in her arms. She tightens her grip around her descendant, instinctively covering Flora’s wound with her hands.

“Oh no,” she mutters to herself as her fingers turn red. “Guys! We need help!”

△ ▲△

It’s just a head wound, Tetra told them. And a head wound means it looks worse than it is, and it’ll bleed more than usual. Flora’s fine, she insists, she’ll wake up soon. All they have to do is keep an eye on her bandages and wait.

“I mean, you’ve seen my Link,” Tetra explains, leaning against her ship’s railing. “He gets a concussion every other week. He’s bounced back from worse than what Flora has.”

There really was no reason to stay on Greatfish any longer, now that they had Tetra and her crew. She’d been so generous as to waive the transport fee, something about a family discount that Artemis didn’t really hear. They’re heading to Windfall Island, so that they can restock their supplies before the next portal appears.

Flora was set up in one of the bedrooms below deck, tucked safely into one of the beds. Artemis has taken it upon herself to remain by her side, at least until she wakes up. She’s just so pale, and she hasn’t moved an inch…

As the first rays of light touch the sea, there’s a light knock on the door.

“Come in,” Artemis calls out, rising from her chair at Flora’s bedside.

The door creaks open, and Dusk pops her head in. “How’s she doing?” she asks, tilting her head towards Flora.

“No change,” Artemis crosses her arms and sighs. “I know Tetra said this is normal, but still…”

Dusk steps into the cabin, closing the door behind her with a sigh. “Sun’s a bit of a wreck. I told her I’d check in on Flora if she ate something.”

“She doesn’t blame herself, does she?” Artemis questions, wringing her hands together.

“The hit was intended for her, from what I can gather,” Dusk reveals. She gently places a hand at the top of Flora’s head. “You’re quite brave.”

Artemis smiles weakly, sitting back in her chair. “How are you holding up, Dusk?”

“I’ll admit, pirate ships aren’t as bad as I thought,” Dusk chuckles lightly. “It’s quite cozy here.”

“Dusk, I’m-” Artemis starts, but she swallows and starts again. “I’m sorry. You haven’t really spent that much time travelling before, and it was irresponsible of me to assume you’d feel comfortable with it immediately.”

“Artemis,” Dusk sighs. She kneels next to her, taking her hands into her own. “I should be the one apologizing. You were trying your best, but… I’m sorry, I was rude about your night watch, and I really ruined the whole thing, didn’t I?”

“Oh come on,” Artemis scoffs, but for once, there’s no malice behind her words. Her hands return Dusk’s grip with a tight squeeze. “You clearly weren’t okay with it, and I took that personally instead of making sure you were alright.”

“I just…” Dusk purses her lips together. “I’m scared of being alone in the dark.”

“Then you won’t have to cover any watches,” Artemis asserts. “But, you know, I spent a lot of time in a warped version of your era. I even met the most peculiar woman, a princess of the Twilight Realm…”

Dusk gasps. “You met Midna.”

“I did,” she nods. “So if you ever need someone to talk to, please consider me.”

Wordlessly, Dusk leans forward and pulls Artemis into what might be the warmest hug she’s felt in years. And instinctually, Artemis hugs her back.

For a long time, they stay like that.

“You know, I never figured it out,” Dusk suddenly speaks. “Flora’s down the family tree, and Sun’s up it. When exactly does the War Across the Ages take place?”

“From your perspective? You have about two-hundred years to go,” Artemis reveals. “You’re my grandmother a few times over, by the way.”

“What?!” Dusk suddenly draws back. “Why didn’t you lead with that?!”

△ ▲△

Waking up is quite the process. When Flora opens her eyes for the first time, her vision is blurry. Like the world’s been spun around. Just barely, she’s able to lift her head, though her neck protests such movements.

There, sitting at the edge of her bed, though. That has to be Mipha. Who else would wait for her like that, within arm’s reach should she need an extra bit of healing?

Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Daruk and Urbosa just a few feet away. They’re talking to each other, maybe about her. Their tones are quiet and subdued, though. And Revali! Revali is waiting, just by the door. That's just like him to hover, even if he pretends not to.

‘Did I pass out in the spring again?’ she wonders.

“Flora?”

But then, she blinks, and it’s almost as though the scene shifts. It’s Sun sitting on her bed, a look of hope clear on her face. Artemis and Dusk freeze, gaping at Flora’s awakening. Tetra is the one who’s by the door, though she’s clearly keeping her distance.

Right. Of course.

“Flora!” Sun springs to her feet. “You’re okay!”

And then, before Flora’s sluggish mind can catch up with her, Sun wraps her up into a tight hug. Flora’s head throbs at the sudden, jerky movement.

“Ow…” Flora groans.

Sun gasps in shock, dropping Flora back onto her pillow. “Sorry!”

“Hylia’s fucking tits-” Tetra curses, missing Sun covering her chest with an arm at those words. She pushes herself between Sun and Flora. “Do none of you know how to handle head injuries? Stop moving her around!”

“I’m sorry, it’s just-” Sun awkwardly fidgets with her fingers. “She got hurt because of me! I need to make sure she’s okay!”

“And I want to make sure my travels with you four start off on the right foot,” Tetra insists. “Without anyone dying.”

“I’m fine,” Flora croaks out.

Dusk gestures a hand to the young queen. “See? She’s fine.”

“You’ve decided you’re coming with, then?” Artemis suddenly appears at Flora’s side, lightly patting her head. “You didn’t need much convincing.”

Tetra shrugs. “I figure I owe Link this much. He’d do the same for me.”

“Woo,” Flora weakly cheers, lamely raising a fist in celebration.

Artemis gently pushes her hand down. “We’ve still got a few days left on the Great Sea, Flora, don’t get your hopes up. We’re not going anywhere until that head wound of yours closes.”

“Aw…” Flora pouts, crossing her arms.

“Get some rest, kid,” Dusk instructs her. “You look like you need it.”

“You,” Flora points to Tetra, though there’s already a drowsiness to her words. “You’re going to tell me more about your time.”

Tetra nods mockingly, taking Flora’s hand into her own. “When you wake up, your majesty.”

#linked universe #lu tetra #lu flora #lu artemis #lu dusk #lu sun #rpita #fanfic #rav's writing

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ransomedrogue · 4 years ago

Text

Tales of Woe - Scenes from S1

ah yes 1.6, so much attempted boundary setting, so little success... it’s mini make up scenes this time around :D

1.6

Weller had been in a bad mood all day; starting from a sleepless night at the office, before moving onto having his objectivity questioned by both Mayfair and Jane. And then there was the fact that he'd tried to compensate for getting called out by being hard on Jane, which had just made him feel shittier about everything. Even stopping the bad guys and blowing up a truck with a perfect grenade toss hadn't improved his disposition, the way it normally would of.

He knew why, of course. It had been eating at him since she said it. But Weller was loath to face what had to be done, despite being sure it was the right thing to do.

Jane was heading towards the elevator, so it was his last chance of the day to talk to her. But Kurt remained nervously irritable, not yet entirely sure he was going to go through with it.

What if she said yes, and told him he was too close? He'd have to accept it of course, though it would be like a dagger to the heart. Still, Weller knew that he had to offer, as much as he didn't want to.

He remembered back to earlier that day, when she had asked about his objectivity. It had struck him so hard, even though everyone else had already been loudly saying the same thing. Because it was Jane, of course. He had told her that he didn't want to make things any harder on her than they already were. So if he didn't want to be a liar then he had to act right then.

So Kurt forced himself to approach, pressing the elevator button and trying to push back the anxiety in his gut. For a moment he paused and considered chickening out, but in the end his personal honour code demanded that he follow through with it.

"Do you want a new lead agent?" he asked, blurting the question out quickly so it didn't get jammed up in his throat.

His heart froze as Jane gave him a confused look.

"What?"

"On your case," he explained.

"Back in the surveillance van you said… that I wasn't objective."

Weller pushed himself to continue, even though he didn't really want to say the next words.

"So I can step down," he said, unable to control the little shake in his voice.

"And Mayfair can assign you a new lead agent."

He felt like his life was hanging on her reply, even though that was very overdramatic. Yet, one little word right then could take her out of his life again, possibly forever.

When Jane eventually affirmed what he believed – that he was exactly the right man for the job, because of his dedication to her case – Weller's shoulders relaxed for the first time that day. He was sure no other agent would do better and, as long as she felt that way too, it didn't matter what anyone else thought.

Kurt was so relieved that he pushed it too far again right away; offering to drive Jane home even though her detail was there to do exactly that. He tried to tell himself he wasn't disappointed when she pulled back and reminded him of the line they were trying to set.

But even that, the way she bit her lip and her shy 'better not'. It killed him.

She was an asset and the girl he'd spent his life trying to find. She had come to him with his name tattooed on her back and yet she wasn't his. It wouldn't be appropriate to act on the feelings she evoked in him, no matter how strongly he felt the connection between them, how much she blew his mind.

He'd been an ass to her all day, and still she hadn't jumped at the chance to get rid of him.

The elevator ride was quiet at first. Weller figured that Jane had already ended the conversation by rejecting his offer of a ride home, yet he still liked just being in the same space as her. It was pathetic, he knew. But true.

About halfway through the ride, Jane turned to him, wearing a serious expression.

"I really am sorry. I definitely don't want anyone else."

How was he supposed to take that?

Weller told his heart to settle down and hoped to hell that his brain would come up with something appropriate to say.

"I'm sorry too, Jane," he spat out, still trying to think though the fluttering in his chest.

"I shouldn't have been so hard on you today. None of that was your fault."

She offered him a hopeful smile that lit the green tint in her eyes, just as the elevator arrived at its destination.

"Thanks," she replied.

"And I meant it about coming for a drink sometime."

Jane ducked her head, her expression turning timid again.

"I don't know," she murmured, as they stepped out onto the parking level.

"It might feel awkward to start. But once Patterson gets going on the shots, she'll make sure you're having a good time."

Her face brightened a little at his words and Kurt struggled to keep his hands to himself, despite having spent an entire day trying to establish a more solid professional boundary.

"Maybe. Thanks for the offer." Jane said, flashing him one more smile before getting into the SUV with her detail.

Weller stood there as the vehicle drove away, his heart still in the same turmoil it had been in all day. It seemed like everyone was harping on him to pull back from her but he wasn't even sure it was possible. His usual rock solid emotional walls had come crashing down and he couldn't rebuild them with the onslaught of her presence.

He had told her that he was working on being objective. He just hadn't mentioned that he already knew he was destined to fail.

###

It was another quiet night alone, with only a head full of questions to keep her company.

Jane sat on the couch with the TV on but turned down so low that it was inaudible. She wondered how Ana was doing, alone in her apartment, with her matching security detail out front.

Her own life had been so action packed during the days and her first few nights had been so full of turmoil and self-questioning that Jane had only recently begun to register her loneliness. It had been a slow realization that everyone else had partners and friends and a life outside of work. Whereas she had just her doubts to keep her company.

Jane briefly wondered what it would be like to have a normal life; the freedom to just head out the door and meet a friend. Even the thought of having real friends seemed like a stretch when she was trying to connect with teenaged hackers.

She cringed a bit thinking about being told off by Weller twice for the same thing, then pushing him away after the truth had slipped out about her loneliness. He'd even asked if she wanted him off the case, which had made her stomach drop out from under her. The thought of losing Weller when she had nothing else to hold onto was terrifying and not at all what she wanted, despite battling with him for most of the day.

He had never been objective about her and most of her really liked that. Despite the pressure she sometimes felt because of it, or the way he'd treated her that day. Weller was possibly the only person on the planet that cared about her, even if their relationship was intense and undefinable.

Jane sighed, realizing that her head was stuck on Kurt again. She looked at the TV for a minute, trying to turn her thoughts in a different direction. She'd love to be able to just go out for a walk on her own, without a team of FBI agents following her. But that was a thought for another day, not something helpful to entertain at the moment.

Her phone rang just then, jolting her out of her head. Jane reached for it in surprise and saw that it was Weller, so she figured that something case related had occurred.

"Hi," she said, picking up the call. "Did something happen?"

"No," Weller replied. "Sorry I didn't mean to worry you. I was just out walking and I thought about what you said earlier."

"About being alone."

He sounded… off. Which made her chest constrict as he paused and waited for her to respond.

Jane wanted to ask if he was okay but didn't know what she would do if he wasn't. In the end she was quiet for too long and Weller must have gotten anxious because he started to apologize again.

"Sorry, right. You need some space. I shouldn't have called," he mumbled.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

It was the same thing he'd said to her the previous night, after she'd held his hand to her heart and told him that he was her starting point. Then tomorrow had come and he'd been cold to her all day. She didn't want that to happen again.

"No, wait. Don't hang up," Jane replied hurriedly.

"Why are you out walking at this time?"

Weller exhaled audibly.

"It's a long story," he said. "I needed some air."

"Which is what made me think, you can't even go out and get a breath on your own."

Part of her was pissed off, that he was only just understanding that even after she spelled it out for him earlier. But it was nice to be talking to Kurt and she didn't want to make more distance between them. So Jane took a tone somewhere in the middle, more teasing than upset.

"Oh, so you're just figuring that out now," she said, trying to keep her voice light.

"Yeah," Weller sighed. "I guess I haven't been seeing everything you're going through, outside of the cases."

Jane wasn't sure what to say. She didn't want his sympathy and yet it did feel good, for her hurts to be acknowledged.

"Anyways, I was walking and I thought maybe you wanted to talk. Not about the case. But so you don't feel so alone."

It was a sweet gesture, if possibly somewhere past the boundary lines they'd been trying to set. But no one else was going to call to talk to her, and she definitely didn't mind being on the phone with Kurt.

"Yeah. I'd like that," Jane said.

"So… what do people talk about on the phone anyways?"

Weller laughed, and she could hear him relax at her question.

"Honestly, I don't talk on the phone much. Especially now with Sarah and Sawyer living at my place. Back when we did call, it was mostly just catching up on what's happened in our lives."

"Well. You're pretty caught up in everything that I know about my life," Jane replied.

"So, it's going to have to be up to you. Tell me what you like to do when you're not working."

She could feel Weller frowning at the idea of not working, but then he laughed again, a little shyly this time. It was a comforting sound, and Jane felt herself smiling in response as Kurt ummed and uhhed a few times before he re-found his voice.

Then, hesitantly at first, Weller started telling her about hot summer evenings at the ballpark, drinking beer and cheering on his team. Which quickly turned into a full fledged conversation about baseball in general and ending up blowing Jane's mind when she was told how much money professional players could make for being good at hitting a ball with a bat.

She asked about his own history as a ballplayer then, which drew a few more embarrassed chuckles from Weller before he opened up about falling in love with the sport as a boy by spending long nights at the local ball field, throwing pitches until his arm was dead tired.

After awhile Jane realized how easy it was to talk to Weller when things weren't loaded with expectation and tension. Despite the way things had been between them that day, it seemed strangely natural to be on the phone with him, laughing at his description of teenage Kurt's athletic prowess.

By the time he was back at his apartment, Weller had given her a full rundown of his military school sports career and Jane was a bit sleepy from being cozy on the couch and listening to Kurt rumble on about baseball. She grinned lazily as she heard Weller opening the door to his building, still telling her about strikeouts and home runs. It was as relaxed as she'd ever been, in her remembered life.

"Are you still awake? I can't believe I just bored you with baseball for so long."

Kurt's voice startled Jane out of her thoughts and back into the conversation.

"Actually, that was really nice," she said. "Thank you."

Weller laughed self-consciously, but she could still hear the smile in his voice.

"Watch out or next time I'll tell you about my failed basketball career," he joked.

"But you're right, that was nice. Thanks for putting up with me."

She heard his worry slip through in his parting words and was startled back into reality. Where he'd offered to recuse himself from the case and they were trying to draw a line between them. Talking on the phone for such a long time hadn't exactly helped that process, yet it had felt so right.

"I wouldn't want anyone else to explain baseball to me," Jane said with a little laugh.

"Goodnight Weller."

"Goodnight Jane," he replied. "See you in the morning."

Jane ended the call with a grin on her face and a warm buzz in her chest. She didn't have much, not even a life to call her own. But at least she still had Weller, despite being at odds with him all day.

#blindspot #blindspot fanfic #blindspot rewatch #s1fic #i wrote this

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jeogiyall · 4 years ago

Text

𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆 ఌ ℎ.𝑠𝑤

❥𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿𝗒 𝗏𝖺𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝖾'𝗌 𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿; 𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗌𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗅! 𝖺𝗎

❥𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: 𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗁 𝗍𝗎𝗍𝗈𝗋 𝗒/𝗇 𝗑 𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗌𝖾𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗐𝗈𝗈 (𝗏𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗈𝗇)

❥𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 𝟝.𝟟𝟛𝑘

❥𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔: 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗒 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗅𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 ᴀʀɪ! 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗏𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝖼𝗎𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗆𝗒 𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖼𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁, 𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗌𝖾𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗐𝗈𝗈

❁✿❀✾❁✿❀✾❁✿❀✾❁✿❀✾

The bell rings to signal the end of your Spanish class. You sling your bag over your shoulder and stand up, grabbing your textbook and preparing to leave; but your teacher’s voice stops you before you have the chance to go.

“Y/N, are you free to chat for a few minutes?” Your steps come to a sudden halt, the rest of your classmates brushing past you to get out of the room.

You gulp and hug your textbook closer to your chest, your teacher’s summons sparking a pool of nerves as you wonder what on earth she needs to talk to you about.

“Sure, what do you need?” You reply. You don’t have another class until the end of the day anyways, so you don’t have to rush off just yet.

You catch your best friend’s eye and can only offer a shrug when she raises one eyebrow at you, and then she’s trailing out of the classroom along with everyone else, leaving you to hesitantly take a seat in front of your Spanish teacher’s desk.

You fiddle with the strap of your bookbag and try to shake off the feeling that you’ve done something wrong.

“Y/N,” She begins softly, “I’m sure you know that you’re one of our Spanish program’s brightest students. Your comprehension skills are sharp and your pronunciation is muy excelente. You’re also a fantastic classmate to your friends when they need your help.”

You don’t know what to make of the proud smile on her face; but it makes you smile a little, too. She continues, “I’ve been very impressed by your work recently, and I’d like to ask you for a favor.”

You nod slowly. So you weren’t in trouble after all- even though you couldn’t think of anything you’d done that would make Ms. Carmen upset with you, it was good to know she wasn’t giving you a lecture.

“Of course, how can I help you?”

Ms. Carmen folds her hands on the desk in front of her and says, “I have a student I want you to tutor for me.”

Your grip on your bag tightens instantly.

“You want me to tutor someone?” Your voice wavers with uncertainty, “I’m not sure I’d be a very good tutor. I, um, I have a lot of classes I’m taking other than this one, and I don’t really know if I have enough time...” You stop yourself from getting too far in your nervous rambling and meet your teacher’s disappointed gaze.

“That’s alright, Y/N. I knew it was a lot to ask of you. I understand you’re a busy student, so don’t trouble yourself; I’ll find another tutor.” She sighs, and the sound makes your heart sag, feeling guilty all of a sudden.

You contemplate the offer for a few more moments, rolling it around in your mind. On the one hand, you are pretty busy; you actually don’t have that many classes this semester, but the workload is tough enough to make up for it.

Yet on the other hand, you really love Spanish, and you like helping people out wherever you can. You may not be overly confident in your abilities as a tutor; but if Ms. Carmen needs you to help another student in your class, then you feel strongly obligated to step up and be the one to do it. Besides, it can’t be too horrible- you figure the most you’ll have to do will probably be to show someone how to count to twenty.

You nod again and square your shoulders, looking your teacher in the eyes. “Actually, I can tutor them. It won’t be a problem.” You assure her.

Her smile returns, and with it comes a small amount of confidence that you’ll be able to prove yourself wrong, that you’ll turn out to be a great tutor. Her words are warm as she responds, “I’m glad to hear that, Y/N. I knew I could count on you.”

You mirror her grin, and with a wave of her hand, she gestures towards the door and tells you you’re free to go. You walk out of the classroom and towards the courtyard with every intention of eating your lunch, though you’ll most likely end up asking yourself who possibly needs you to tutor them in Spanish so badly... maybe it’s just an underclassmen who could use the extra help.

Or maybe, you think as you open up your textbook on the lunch table, you should just stop stressing yourself out about this so much and eat your food before the bell rings again.

❁✿❀✾❁✿❀✾❁✿❀✾❁✿❀✾

You smooth out your skirt and rock back and forth on the balls of your feet, glancing at the time on your phone. 3:30 pm- the student you’re supposed to tutor should’ve been here fifteen minutes ago. You mindlessly scroll through social media to dispel your nerves, telling yourself to stop being worried over something so small. You’re sure there’s a perfectly good reason they’re late.

Your eyes scan the almost full library for a place to sit once your student finally gets here, hoping you won’t have to sit in one of the back rooms that are notorious for being a hookup spot. The mere thought of working on one of those tables is enough to gross you out.

You’ve been waiting at the front of your school’s library for the last fifteen minutes; the two assistants at the checkout desk have been sending you curious looks and whispering subtly, and you’re sure they’re talking about you. They most likely think you’re being stood up on a study date- which, to be honest, it kind of feels as if you are being stood up. You decide you’ll give it just five more minutes before calling it quits and going home.

You keep scrolling through your phone until you hear someone ask the assistants about a Spanish tutor. They point in your direction and the guy turns around, your lungs shutting down the moment your eyes land on him.

You realize he isn’t just any old freshman or sophomore kid. Instead, you’ve been assigned to tutor Han Seungwoo- the high school’s golden boy.

Seungwoo recognizes you instantly, knowing you as the smart girl who always aces every Spanish test. He knows Ms. Carmen wouldn’t pair him up with just anyone, so he should have suspected he’d be put with one of the smartest people in his class.

What he didn’t know, however, was how cute you looked when your head wasn’t buried in your book; his heart jumps at the way you’re bouncing on your toes, your hair tucked behind your ear and your eyes going wide once you recognize who he is.

He wonders how he could’ve ever missed the sweetness in your smile before.

You clutch your phone tightly to keep yourself together when Seungwoo makes his way over to you, hoping your breathing will go back to normal before he hears you hyperventilate.

He’s so much more handsome in person than how your boy-crazy best friend describes him. She makes Seungwoo seem untouchable and detached, always harping on his sharp jawline and his cold charms. But up close, he’s not like that at all; you find that his eyes hold a soft warmth in them, and the brown hair that flops over his forehead is practically begging you to run your fingers through it. He all but towers over you in his high top sneakers and red sweater, and he couldn’t look any more approachable if he tried. You quickly conclude that your best friend’s got it all wrong.

You also conclude that if you don’t quit staring at him like a stalker, then Seungwoo is going to run in the opposite direction as fast as he possibly can.

You snap yourself out of it and offer a shy smile, slipping your phone into your pocket. “Hi, I’m Y/N. Are you the one Ms. Carmen asked me to tutor?” You mentally cheer at how stable your voice is, even if it’s a little soft.

Seungwoo smiles brightly back at you, and you could swear he’s intentionally trying to make you melt into a puddle on the floor. “Hi Y/N! I’m Seungwoo,” He introduces himself as if he isn’t the heartthrob of the century, and you bite your lip to keep from confessing that you already know him. “I’m so sorry to keep you waiting, but I had to talk to Coach about missing practice or else he wouldn’t let me go.”

That’s right- you’d forgotten he was on the football team, too. Your tiny little crush shrivels up and dies in your heart, your brain reminding you that you’re just tutoring the school’s star defense player, and that it will never be more than that. For one thing, it would be the most cliché circumstance to ever happen in your life; not to mention that it’s also the most unrealistic thing to hope for. You squash down your stupid schoolgirl feelings and nod your head at Seungwoo.

“Of course, don’t feel bad,” You tell him, “I just wasn’t sure if you were going to come. Now that you’re here, where do you wanna sit?”

You’ve got a suspicion that you might just end up in the back room, not seeing an empty table anywhere; thankfully, Seungwoo spots a group getting up to leave and motions for you to follow that way. You walk past the group and sit down slowly, letting your bag drop onto the table and pulling out your textbook.

He takes one look at it and groans, rubbing a hand over his temple. “I can’t believe I forgot my textbook. I didn’t mean to be so scatterbrained...” The tips of his ears are turning slightly pink, and the sight is so endearing that you can’t even pretend to be disappointed.

“It’s fine, you can just use mine today.” You console, sliding it over to him. He sheepishly opens it and grabs his notebook from his bag.

“So what do you want to do first?” You ask. Your nerves are starting to get to you, and you twirl your pencil around in your fingers. Seungwoo sees your fidgeting and raises an eyebrow.

“It seems like you’re nervous,” He observes, and your breath catches when he so casually exposes you. “Maybe we should get to know each other a little bit? After all, I think we’re gonna be working together for at least the next month, if not more. I don’t want to be strangers.”

Your heart flutters against your will at his suggestion. “I’m not nervous,” You respond defensively, “I’ve just never tutored anyone before. I don’t know if I’ll be any good.”

Seungwoo shuts the textbook and rests his elbows on the table, giving you all of his attention. “Based on how great you are in class, I’m sure you’ll be a huge help. Don’t sweat it.” He tells you, causing a warm blush to rise on your cheeks.

“How about we play twenty questions?” He asks without warning, “I’ll start if you don’t want to go first. Deal?” You nod, putting the pencil down.

He clears his throat. “Let’s start out easy. Favorite color?”

You blurt out red without any thought. You don’t actually have a favorite, but you couldn’t stop thinking about how handsome Seungwoo looks sitting across from you in that red sweater; and from the slight smirk that pulls at his lips, you think he’s caught onto what’s happening in your head. How embarrassing.

“Look at that, we’ve got the same favorite color. Never would’ve pinned you for a red girl.” He teases, briefly taking in your fuzzy light blue shirt. You shake your head to hide how easily flustered he makes you.

“Seungwoo, we should really get to studying. Don’t you have a lesson you want to go over today?” You say with a small sigh. As much as you want to get to know him, to learn what makes him smile or what he wants to do with his life, you’re acutely aware of how urgent Ms. Carmen was about getting you to tutor him. The last thing you want is to let her down; and it looks like there’s not much time to waste.

Seungwoo just shrugs his shoulders and leans closer to you over the table, sending butterflies swooping in your tummy. You almost wish he wasn’t this handsome- maybe then you wouldn’t be such a nervous wreck. “I didn’t have anything specific in mind,” He admits reluctantly, “all I know is that I’m failing right now and if I don’t pull my grade up, I won’t get to play for the rest of this season. I can’t let the boys down, y’know?”

You can’t help but admire the obvious loyalty Seungwoo has towards his team. You didn’t expect someone like him to so openly wear his heart on his sleeve, and it’s already showing signs of causing a problem. You don’t think your poor heart can handle a month of his easy smile or his confident manner.

His brown eyes are on yours, and you have the sudden urge to hold his hand and tell him he’ll do just fine, that you’ll do whatever it takes to get him back in the game. You push the thought away before it gets stuck in your head and instead reach for the textbook again.

“Then let’s get to it.” You say, the words soft yet determined. If you didn’t have a reason to help him out before, then at least now you’ve got a goal to work towards. You don’t want him to get kicked off the team.

He doesn’t let up his curious gaze, and it feels like he can see past your face and straight inside of you, as if he can read your mind. Your blush refuses to go away and you avert your stare to the book on the table, opening it up to the first chapter to start reviewing what he knows so far.

On the other side of the table, Seungwoo thinks to himself that this might end up being the longest month of his life.

How on earth is he supposed to focus on a language he doesn’t understand when you’re sitting there so cutely right in front of him, your cheeks glowing softly and your hair falling into your eyes? How is he going to remember anything of importance with your small hands tracing over the words on the page, skimming the lines like it’s a map to your heart?

And how is he ever going to remember anything that isn’t the way your lips pull into a polite smile when you catch him looking at you?

As you try to get Seungwoo to remember some simple adjectives, the only one he can recall is hermosa; but he thinks that maybe telling you that on your first meeting together wouldn’t quite be appropriate- and he thinks that maybe Spanish just got a whole lot harder.

❁✿❀✾❁✿❀✾❁✿❀✾❁✿❀✾

“No, Seungwoo, gato is the word for cat. We’re talking about school supplies, not animals.” You correct gently.

The last week or so of tutoring Han Seungwoo has been anything but a breeze. While he’s trying his best to learn from you, you didn’t realize how far behind he’s been in class. It took you three sessions just to get through basics like counting and introductions, and you haven’t even bothered to work on his pronunciation yet; you’ve got bigger things for him to master first.

While you’d made some significant progress- he could now count into the hundreds and successfully tell people his name, age, and nationality- you’ve still got a long way to go.

You’ve been meeting up in the library after school every day so far, and he’d taken extra care to make sure he didn’t make you wait as long as he did on the first day. You normally spend an hour minimum in the quieter section of the library, away from the chatter of students using the computers, and you’ve had to check out another Spanish textbook when Seungwoo discovered he’d lost his for real.

Today, one week into tutoring, you’d been working with him on school supplies and classroom phrases.

“So...” Seungwoo trails off, a look of confusion on his face that shouldn’t be so heartachingly handsome, “the word for staple is grapa? Why does it sound so much like the word for cat? That’s not fair.” He fails to hold back a pout, making you laugh.

“Sorry Seungwoo, I don’t make the rules.” You offer an excuse. His shoulders slump and he starts drawing aimless circles on his paper, which you’ve written over in red ink to try and help him get the hang of nouns.

“You at least know them,” He says in a dull tone, “but what do I know? Football and chemistry, that’s it. I can pass chemistry, but I’m failing Spanish.” You feel that odd urge to hold his hand again, but like the last few times it’s happened, you shove it out of your brain as quickly as it appeared.

You instead ruffle his hair (which is exactly as soft as you’d imagined it was) and give him your own sulky pout, “Hey, that’s nothing to complain about. Chemistry is more foreign to me than Spanish, I don’t even know how I passed.” You admit honestly.

At the sight of your frown, Seungwoo thinks his heart has stopped working, because it’s beating too fast for him to function. He wants nothing more than to kiss that little pout off of you and bring back your sweet grin; and while that idea should be alarming, he finds that he has no issues with it at all. The only issue is that he has no idea how you’d respond to something so sudden and unwarranted.

Your tutoring sessions have been driving Seungwoo absolutely nuts over the last few days. He has no clue how he’s never noticed you before now, because your innocent eyes and small smiles have been living in his mind rent-free since the day you met him in the library. He’d normally be concerned about how quickly he’s become infatuated with you, but you make it easy with your cute expressions and your fuzzy oversized sweaters; anyone who knows him well would be able to tell that he’s got it bad.

Lucky for him, you’ve just been chalking up his inability to memorize the material to his lack of interest in Spanish.

“Let’s try again,” You suggest quietly, rounding the table to stand over him. You turn the page of the textbook to the next worksheet, free of red pen marks, and point at the first blank row. “Write out the words in English first from the pictures, then again in Spanish.”

Seungwoo fights back the desire to lace your hands with his much larger ones, wanting so badly to feel how they’d fit together.

An idea pops into your head as you think of ways to motivate him. “If you get them right, I’ll give you a prize!” You chirp, hoping to inspire him enough for him to really apply himself. He perks up visibly and pokes your side, wanting to know what the prize is, but you shake your head and swat his arm away. “You’ll just have to find out when I check your work.” You taunt.

It does the trick, too- when he finally fills in the last blank and hands you the worksheet, you’re pleasantly surprised to find that every single answer is correct.

“Did I do it?” He asks excitedly, reminding you of a puppy. You nod and draw a smiley face on the sheet, giving it back to him without writing all over it. You’re shocked at how easy it was to get him to try, and you hadn’t actually planned on him getting it right first try.

He shuts the book and stuffs his papers and pencil into his bag, quickly sliding out of his chair to stand next to you. Now he’s really acting like a puppy, practically bounding over to you and playfully nudging you with his elbow.

“Y/N, what’s the prize?” He asks again. You collect your own things and stand up, not even bothering to elbow him back.

You fiddle with the straps and look down at your shoes as you mumble, “I, um, I was gonna take us to the coffee shop a few blocks away to finish up. I figured we could use a change of scenery.” Your voice is unsteady, much like your heart rate; but who can blame you when Seungwoo is looming over you with an obvious twinkle in his eye? Your tummy does backflips from the way he’s so blatantly staring- you’re unused to all the attention.

He uses one finger beneath your chin to tilt your head up, his fond expression making you wonder if he’s even real or if you’re just hallucinating.

“That’s perfect, Y/N, I’d really like that.” He says. Your eyes linger on his lips; and you let yourself have one selfish thought, thinking of how it might feel to go on your tiptoes and press your own against them, imagining for only a moment how his hand would cradle your face-

“Are we going to go, or did you wanna stare some more?” He questions with a cocky smirk, secretly enjoying the curious way you’re looking at him. You turn beet red and stutter awkwardly, wishing you had something to hide yourself behind.

“I wasn’t staring, I was just... zoning out.” You attempt to lie, but it’s no use. You got caught red-handed and you both know it. Once you realize you won’t be getting your dignity back any time soon, you spin on your heel and walk out of the library, not needing to look behind you to know he’s following closely.

His hand brushes yours as you exit the school and begin the short walk to the coffee shop downtown, sending sweet chills all the way up your arm. “Whatever you say, stalker.” He mutters teasingly. You lightly shove his side, making him laugh.

“I am so not a stalker!” You defend dramatically. He doesn’t respond, just glances at you with a smile so sweet that it reaches his eyes and instantly melts your heart, and you have to tell yourself to snap out of it before you dwell on his antics for too long.

“Keep telling yourself that.” He eventually responds.

You give him a pouty side-eye and cross your arms like a little kid, “I’m not a stalker.”

Seungwoo swears that he’s never wanted to kiss anyone so badly before in his life.

❁✿❀✾❁✿❀✾❁✿❀✾❁✿❀✾

At the end of your third week tutoring Seungwoo, you’ve completely given up on trying to ignore the way he makes your heart flutter; now, all you can do is try to keep yourself from becoming a blushing mess in his presence for the two hours a day you’re both together.

You’d made the mutual decision to move your sessions out of the library and into the coffee shop, a cute little place named Mayday Café. While it was a great place to study, with more room for you to spread out and work, it also had it’s drawbacks (which came directly in the form of sweet cream and caffeine).

Though you aren’t sure ‘drawbacks’ is the right word; maybe the word you’re looking for is ‘temptations’.

It certainly isn’t distractions. You had your own personal, living-and-breathing distraction already right there in front of you; one named Han Seungwoo.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that he’s flirting with you a lot these days. He’s been quick to buy you your magic bean juice every time he sees you glance at the counter, never letting you pay for it no matter how many times you protest, and he’s even started causally calling you nicknames like princess and cutie.

He makes you nervous and excited at the same time, always causing your cheeks to turn pink and your pulse to race. You aren’t sure if he knows what he’s doing- he carries such an easygoing manner about him that you can’t really tell what he’s thinking- but you know for a fact that it’s having an effect on you, even if it isn’t intentional.

You also think that must have some idea of what he’s doing to you, because no one can be that touchy and still be oblivious.

Currently, it was 4:50 on a Friday afternoon. Your drink was long gone, your cup left on the edge of the table as you and Seungwoo sat side by side, heads bent down to read over a page in your Spanish textbooks during the last ten minutes of today’s tutoring session.

One hand gripped his pen tightly while the other was tangled in his hair, a habit of his you’d discovered he did whenever he was deeply involved in something. You peeked subtly at him while pretending to read your own book, although in reality you were just trying to memorize the endearing scrunch of his nose and the way he mouthed the words silently to himself.

Five more minutes went by until he looked up from the vocabulary words, removing the hand in his hair and marking his place before closing the textbook. You raised an eyebrow expectantly, waiting for him to translate what he’d just read. You had confidence he was going to get this lesson right after spending the entire session in one chapter alone.

He meets your gaze head-on, the only sign that you’re getting more than you bargained for being the way his mouth quirks up into that familiar self-assured grin, and says in an astonishingly good Spanish accent, “Eres demasiado linda para tu propio bien.”

You gulp and sense yourself clenching the pencil in your hand a little too hard, feeling equally floored and flustered by Seungwoo’s unexpected words. You can’t stop the swarm of butterflies that comes to life inside you, taking flight and raising your hopes far higher than you intended for them to go.

You don’t think you can form a coherent sentence around the lump in your throat, opening and closing your mouth until you settle for an uneasy “Wh-what?”

Seungwoo knows you heard him loud and clear, but he repeats it anyways, wanting to save the image of your nervous blush and replay it in his mind forever. “I said, eres demasiado linda para tu propio bien; haces que sea difícil concentrarte, cariña.” *see glossary at the end for translations*

He can tell purely from the way your eyes widen that you perfectly understand what he’s saying. He’d looked it up a thousand times on google translate, his latest search history reading ‘how to call someone cute in Spanish’ just so he could impress you. But when you continue to wordlessly stare up at him, he thinks he’s the real winner here; he wouldn’t mind if you looked adoringly at him like this for the rest of his life.

You blink rapidly and try to pull your thoughts together. “Umm... lo siento? I think? That was, uh, you had really good pronunciation just then...” You’re tripping over yourself to get some sort of response out, but it’s proving to be a difficult feat when Han Seungwoo’s hand rests gently on your leg like it was made to lay there. Your breathing grows shallow and shaky, all from one single touch, and it’s gonna be the thing to make you break what little composure you have left.

He traces lazy shapes on the hem of your skirt, not wanting to make you uncomfortable or give you the wrong idea. He just wants to be close to you, to see the gleam in your doe eyes as he cautiously puts his hand over your leg in a sudden display of affection.

It’s one touch- but it’s enough to set the ball rolling.

You’d be stupid not to ask the question at this point; he’s passed through the land of friendliness and is crossing the border into a territory that could end up being dangerous for your heart. But you still need to know, not willing to put up with another night of what if’s plaguing your head once it hits the pillow.

You gather up your courage and place your hand on top of his, determined not to get too distracted by how small yours looks compared to his.

“Seungwoo,” You start despite the wobble in your tone, “I... I don’t know if this is just me, but you’ve been awfully flirty with me the last couple of weeks. Is there- is there a reason you’re doing it, or is it all for show?” You’re pleased that you were able to at least ask the question. “Why are you acting so... so charming? Is it just in my head?”

If Seungwoo thought he wanted to kiss you a week ago, then now he knows what it feels like to crave something- he’s never craved anything as badly as he longs to finally close the damn gap between your lips and his.

He assumed he would turn into an anxious mess when the time came to confess, expecting to lose his confidence and mix up all of his words. He’s glad that that isn’t the case today though- because the longer he looks at you, the more certain he feels that he’s yours, and he’s oh so eager to make you his; that is, if you’ll have him.

So although you wait for him to answer you with bated breath, Seungwoo is at ease knowing that this isn’t all in his head- knowing that you feel it, too.

“Princess, don’t you see it?” He says simply, his other hand coming up to skim along the side of your face, “You’re absolutely irresistible. I thought I was making it obvious how much I wanted you, how much I want to be with you. Are you finally telling me you want it, too?” His words are sweet, only carrying a small teasing lilt to them as he caresses your cheek with his thumb, “Are you telling me you wanna be mine?”

He brings your face closer to his, your neck craning up so you don’t lose eye contact. Your lips are only a few inches apart when he adds in a whisper, “Because I wanna be su novio, if you’ll let me.”

You don’t miss the way his stare drops to your mouth and stays there, not moving even when your arms find their way around his neck. You’re suddenly thankful for the building’s layout, the back corner you’d chosen helping to conceal the sweet moment from the rest of the world.

You can hardly breathe at this point- but you’re able to answer him as he pulls you in, “si.”

Seungwoo can’t stop the smile from spreading before his lips meet yours the way he’s wanted them to since the day you pouted at him in the library.

You have to hold back a sigh of content when you finally, finally get the kiss you’ve waited three weeks for; it’s better than you ever even imagined it could be, full of tenderness and longing, with him showing you exactly how crazy he is for you. You don’t rush, losing yourself in the way you softly melt together.

It’s a gentle kiss, intent on making up for lost time without expecting anything in return. Your fingers twist into the hair at the base of his neck, making his smile grow even bigger against yours mouth; he’s made you feel so many things, but none of them felt as promising as this. This felt warm and inviting... like a hint of better things to come.

You pull away to catch the breath that’s sprinted from your lungs faster than a runner at a track meet.

“Y/N...” Seungwoo sounds as starstruck as you feel, “I know you’re my tutor, and we only met a couple of weeks ago.. but it would make me really, really feliz if you’d go on a date with me sometime.”

He has to restrain himself from pulling you in for another kiss when your face lights up with joy, head nodding up and down as your smile only spreads wider; you twirl his soft strands around your fingers wordlessly, unable to do anything except look into his eyes with all the happiness in the world. You still aren't over the fact that Han Seungwoo just kissed you- you don't think you'll get over it any time soon, to be honest. Though who could really blame you?

The butterflies have started to swoop madly in your chest, soaring higher and higher, making you feel like you're flying above the ground, never wanting to land again. You're floating on a bliss you could only describe as cloud nine.

Even Seungwoo's hand in yours on the way out of Mayday Cafe can't bring you back down to the ground.

"Something on your mind, Y/N?" He asks playfully, knowing full well that you're exactly as dazed and dizzy as he is. You roll your eyes and tighten your grip on his hand, memorizing the way his hands cup your own and lace your fingers together like they were always meant to intertwine.

"You." You answer shyly, ducking your head to hide your growing blush. Seungwoo thinks you're the most adorable human being to walk this planet, and he hopes he'll never have to let go of your small hand; never have to go a day without coaxing a timid smile from you or tease you til your cheeks turn red. He may not be good at Spanish, but he's found that he at least has good luck in another language- your love language.

A language he can only speak with you.

"As long as that's the case, feel free to keep zoning out." He doesn't let up his relentless flirting and you childishly smack his side with your free hand. He laughs at your weak attempt and squeezes your hand gently; you almost shudder from the sparks shooting through your fingertips.

As you walk home side-by-side, Han Seungwoo makes a mental note to thank Ms. Carmen for forcing him to get tutored with as many Spanish words as possible. Because while he can't ask for directions just yet, it seems he's found his way to his heart; and it's all your Spanish teacher's fault.

Although once he gives you a goodbye kiss at your doorstep, he admits that maybe it isn't entirely Ms. Carmen's fault- it was yours for being so irresistible.

He wondered to himself, after you'd walked inside and closed the door, just how long it would take him to learn how to say "I love you" in Spanish.

❁✿❀✾❁✿❀✾❁✿❀✾❁✿❀✾

the end.

GLOSSARY:

-muy excelente = very good

- eres demasiado linda para tu propio bien = you’re too cute for your own good

- haces que sea difícil concentrarte, cariña = you make it hard to focus, darling

-si = yes

-feliz = happy

#han seungwoo #seungwoo fluff #victon fluff #victon seungwoo #han seungwoo fluff #victon fanfic #kpop fanfic #the writing tag #admin ari #happy vday y'all!!!#enjoy this fluffy goodness with the man of my latest affections... han seungUwU #seunguwu

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awhilde · 4 years ago

Text

stupid

pairings: kaeya (genshin impact) x reader

genre(s): just pure fluff!

warnings: swearing and minor (tiny) mentions of death. also, it would be advised to play the game ‘genshin impact’ up past adventure rank 10 because there are a few spoilers (?) and mentions of specific scenes.

word count: 2.6k words

synopsis: in which you can’t stand the stupid ice man that seems to trail after your every move, infuriating with every word that falls from his lips, every curve of his mouth and every tilt of his head. the pure annoyance he gifts you makes your chest ache in exhaustion. i mean, that is the sole reason why your heart is pumping overdrive, right?

author’s note: this is just a really quick, cheesy and plotless oneshot that i decided to write in under an hour, i think? if i’m being honest, i just wanted to see what my page would look like with something published, but please enjoy regardless! god i’m simping for kaeya even though genshin is literally not an otome game what ?? gave them the right to make him look so good??

a harmless tune twinkles in the city’s atmosphere, sorrowful tales hidden behind the cheer of a folk song and the strum of a harp

you listen, leaning against an open window, letting the gentle breeze tousle your hair behind your ears, drinking in the refreshing sensation of the wind kissing your closed eyes and exposed face. the suffocating atmosphere of the library leaves you as you daydream with the hum of the melody and lose yourself in its rhythm

the scent of the storm last night taunts your mind of a nostalgic memory, easing the growing beast of worry in your heart

the thought reminds you of the cause of such worry and you sigh reluctantly, knowing the pile of research notes by your desk wouldn’t sign themselves as you wasted time by this pocket of air, but your limbs are frozen, leisurely leaning against the frame of the window. you allow for time to flow unrestricted past your consciousness for there might not be another opportunity in the near future when you could relax as you did now

life couldn’t possibly be contained within stress and work. you’d combust if this was the prevailing knowledge, collapsing from overworking your body or perhaps even dying from high blood pressure in your late 20’s which crept closer as time went by

where had your teenage years gone? the thrill of adventure and death?

“something on your mind, name?”

your eyes snap open, body whisking around to face the man that had managed to sneak up to your side without your notice. you recognise the presence beside you long before your eyes had laid upon their figure for they had been your partner in crime for far too long for you not to adapt to his chilly atmosphere

at least he was nice to be around in summer

kaeya, that infuriating ice man that had insisted on growing closer towards you despite the only connection you two shared being the fact that jean enjoyed tormenting you and placing the two of you together in missions

he had made his way to your right, contrasting your position as he leaned his back against the wall whilst you leaned your front torso out the window. suddenly the wind was nothing compared to him. with his arms crossed at his front, he gives you a side-long glance and smirks at your expression

huffing you turn away. “what do you want now, kaeya?” you ask

“what is with this hostility?” he shoots back. “don’t tell me i actually surprised you by being here.”

your silence was enough of an answer for him to brighten. “wait, for real?”

you groan, cheek in your palm as you continue to close your eyes. “go away, kaeya, if you’re just here to make fun of me. go bother someone else, hasn’t there been a traveller of sorts that’s appeared recently?”

kaeya hums. “yeah, what about them?”

“go send them on a wild goose chase or something. didn’t you do that to the other one that passed by?” this time, you steal a peak at him through one eye. despite this being a small movement, kaeya’s immediately chases your eye.

ah, there’s that stupid sneer of his that you couldn’t stand. the sight was as familiar as the sun’s touch having seen it everywhere; after freezing jean’s feet to the ground when she got “too boring”, when he’d freeze the walls of your office in order to chase you out of the room and when he’d won that stupid game in that one stupid festival when they’d finished a mission early, turning with that exact sneer, his eyes steady and wild on yours as he handed you the first prize gift, not failing to bow as he presented the toy to you. that stupid pink bunny still sat somewhere in your room, not treasured but simply looked after. it wasn’t a significant item to be cherished after all

“i already did.” he had been saying when you zoned out. “i told them there was a mysterious treasure and sent them off. that little thing they had with them was especially keen on getting her small hands on whatever it was. shame there was nothing there to begin with, just another plan to draw out the futoi rats but i would have liked to see what that little thing could do with immense power. eat exotic foods, maybe?”

his eyes dart back to yours when he didn’t receive the response he expected; silence, and turns to face you. your eyes had gone glassy whilst in the process of reminiscing and he knew you were no longer in the present time. he sighs and stands

you catch the movement and snap back to reality, blinking before narrowing your eyes at his stupid face. “you have a look in your eyes.” you observe hesitantly

“and you weren’t paying attention to anything i said.” he retorts. he leans forward with his arms still crossed as if attempting to examine you further. the proximity startles you and you take a step back on instinct

the action makes him raise an eyebrow. “you’re also surprisingly quiet and grumpy today.”

wow you both are so good at stating the very obvious

it was true, despite hating his guts you couldn’t deny the spark of chemistry between the both of him whether it be dancing on the battlefield or even the snarky banter that he oddly seemed to enjoy. in an attempt to cover up where you had lacked, you face the window again. for some reason, it was easier to talk to him when you weren’t confronted with his stupid face. “oh? aren’t you glad i haven’t remarked on that stupid eyepatch you wear yet? unless, of course, you agree completely with what i say about it which, y’know, is the objective truth. it couldn’t possibly have been inherited. and its ugly.”

“nope! just as the title of being a pirate has been passed down in my family generation, so has the need to wear an eyepatch.” he cheerfully responds. “nice try, name, but i can still tell that you’re feeling down. you gonna tell me what it is or are we gonna continue this act until you grow bore of it?”

you sigh, caught in your façade that you had sub-consciously put up as a defense mechanism. not that he had no know what it was. something stupid in your stomach explodes with warmth at his prying, but you can’t hate it. that same stupid thing brings you to face him again and you regret it as soon as your eyes meet

he had stepped closer, close enough for you to feel his chill through the fabric of your clothes, close enough to see the fur on his attire rustle from the breeze by the window, his hair tousling also, close enough for your eyes to become captivated from his

well, his one eye

singular

eye

you chuckle slightly, the sound bubbling from the back of your throat until its pouring out without limit. you bend over, still giggling and the force makes you stumble. but its hilarious, does he wink or blink? omg imagine if he seductively winks but it just looks like he’s well, blinking

kaeya is taken back by your giggles but his incredulous stare doesn’t manage to stop the endless wave of laughter that causes tears to form at your eye, and your cheeks to begin to ache. it would hurt his reputation severely if he’d attempt to cheekily wink only to have the receiver no clue on what he was doing

god, you can’t believe you love this stupid boy

your laughter halts almost immediately

…

love?

you don’t love him

why would you even consider that you liked him? he was a major pain in the ass, always bothering you when you worked, always messing around, always teasing you

right, you had just been so caught up in your laughter that it convinced your mind that the endorphins that had been released was due to kaeya, but it wasn’t. you don’t feel that way about him, you had just found his appearance hilarious

right

kaeya raises another eyebrow at you. “right, are you feeling okay? maybe we should ask jean for you to take a break.” he mumbles the last part as if it was an after thought but you hear it anyways

you turn away from him and begin walking back to your office. you knew he would follow after you and he does, his footsteps echoing your own until he is walking beside you, synced in your movements. “i’m not even that busy, stop exaggerating.” you step is bouncier, your fit of laughter at fault for your raised mood

“maybe not but you’re certainly boring.”

“your idea of fun is literally drinking with dilluc and making jean mad. maybe you shouldn’t be the one telling me if i’m boring?”

“so you’re not gonna deny it?’

“i like to think i take every one of my flaws into my stride. it would be even more embarrassing if someone didn’t know how much they sucked. like say, didn’t know how stupid they looked with an eyepatch?” you stick out your tongue at him and pulled down your eye. “pirate headass.”

he laughs as if you said something funny, but along the way you laugh with him

the sound of your laughs merging together, fuelling each other on, sound like music to your ears, a clearer tune than the only floating around the city, prettier than the twinkle of bells and bird song. it sounded familiar, like home, like watching rain dance on a windowpane, like heating your hands on a warm drink

“good to know your only insult of me is my eyepatch.” he says after your chuckles die

“and how is that a good thing?”

he sneaks a glance at you before looking start forward

“it means i must look practically perfect in your eyes, save for my apparently odd fashion sense. careful, name, or you’ll somehow manage to confess to me without your own knowledge.”

you splutter as he finishes, for some reason feeling defensive. “what the fuck do you mean by that?”

“well, you’re complimenting me, no? every other aspect of me are too good to insult?” the pair of you approach the doors to your office and his face lights up, mind clearly departing his last thought. “ah! we’re here. wait, why are we here again?” despite his words, he steps forward to enter your room, neither stopping to check if he had your permission nor to see if you were going insideyou narrowly miss the door as you unfreeze and dash in after him

he had already made his way to the back corner of the room, observing the shelf you had placed beside your desk. the shelves contained items that you held dear to you, the pair of earrings your aunt had gifted you before her demise, a book that you particularly enjoyed when you were younger, a stick figure of an old cartoon mascot back when you were only a child and so much more. it aided in providing you a relief of stress in your times of need. they were delicate and of upmost importance, items you placed dangerously close to your heart. but for some reason, you didn’t mind that kaeya were looking at them now

you knew he wouldn’t break them, he wouldn’t be in such a high position of the knights if he was clumsy

instead, your mind travels back in time to what he had said so carelessly before he had entered the room

complimenting him? how absolutely ridiculous. saying his eyepatch made him look uglier was by no means a compliment, not even a twisted one. sure, it may infer that without it he would look much better, but this didn’t mean you would find him attractive without it, what a delusion. and in truth, kaeya treated it as if you were being serious which you weren’t, really. it wasn’t as ugly as you made it sound, you actually thought he suited it quite well.

wait a minute, what were you saying? perhaps kaeya had simply wanted to use reverse psychology on you and twist your very thoughts

well, he almost succeeded, you’ll give him that

“oh? what is this?”

his voice brings you back to reality and you realise with a start that you recognised the thing he was holding in his hand, the source of his question and the reason why the room appeared so much hotter than it had been before

in his hand, he held that stupid pink bunny

his eyes search yours in question, that stupid, stupid sneer on his face once more. it was clear he expected an answer, but you gave him none, instead staring him down with your eyes, feeling hot on your cheeks

“i think i remember this plushy, wasn’t it-“

your limbs move before your mind registers them, arm reaching out and activating your element, anemo, and calling upon the power to have your treasure returned to you

the green appears circling green whisps around the pink fur, growing clearer in appearance every passing millisecond before the entire toy is succumbed with the air

a small explosion follows after the orb, zapping kaeya’s hand, causing him to lose his gentle hold

the bunny falls to the ground, millimetres away from the carpet when you pull it towards you with your anemo

when it finally enters your grasp, you wrap both arms around the bunny and draw it towards your heart, angling your body defensively, hiding it from his stare. “don’t say a single thing.” you warn him, but you know he wouldn’t ever leave you alone now

his eyes stare down at the palm that had been holding the toy before looking back up at you. “you just… used your anemo on me.”

“i did.”

his shell-shocked expression withdraws on his face, a small smile on his lips that was neither the shit-eating grin that he usually wore nor the stupid sneer. it looked sincere. and like he came to a sudden realisation. like something was confirmed

you open your mouth to say more, deny more perhaps yet you wouldn’t know what would come out of your mouth at that moment for your door bursts open, you and kaeya reacting immediately with your respective elements in hands, you only using one as you continue to hug the stuffed toy. an oddly familiar figure appears at the door, clad in white and with bright blonde hair. after the unknown individual, a small human floats after them. at the sight of the two, kaeya relaxes which prompts you to do so as well. ah, now you realised where you had seen them before, they were the iconic traveller

“what are you doing here?” kaeya asks for you. something in his tone is guarded

the small creature, paimon as you remember, speaks first. “we’ve come to ask for a hint! you said you’d help us solve riddles, remember? for the super cool, super wicked sword?” her small head turns to you as if acknowledging you for the first time. “oh, were we interrupting something?”

you raise an eyebrow. “nice to meet you too, i’m name. how did you find this place?”

paimon shrugs. “a knight told us that if we couldn’t find kaeya, we should check in this room.”

those words made the warm icky feeling in your chest expand. you clear your throat as you sense both kaeya’s and paimon’s eyes on you, the traveller oddly not saying a word and staring off into the distance. as subtly as you could, you place the toy behind your back and down on another shelf, reminding yourself to relocate it once whatever kaeya was planning at had finished

“well, show us the riddle then.” you say, ignoring the fuzzy feeling in your chest when kaeya joins the circle the five of you made, surrounding the item in the traveller’s hand and, you cursed, far too close to your right

your arm grazes one another as you shift closer for a better look

but you swallow the feeling deep down and look up to meet the traveller’s eyes. “well, i have a clue what this could mean.” you say, contrasting all the pacing thoughts in your head, casting aside the want to kick the two intruders from your room, to confront kaeya with the emotions you’ve been feeling around him, to possibly cry at the overwhelming truth of it all, that you did love him

but they became only thoughts, visible only in your mind

this world wasn’t suit for romance, not when there was a dragon terrorising the city, not when the gods were angry, not when you hadn’t confirmed if kaeya feels the same way

so you bury your newfound feelings, smiling gently at the traveller as you share what you knew with them, ignoring the present sensation of kaeya by your side, hoping that by the time you had collected yourself, you would be able to hide these foreign feelings

from his stupid face

#kaeya x reader #kaeya #genshin kaeya #kaeyagenshinimpact #is this how to tag idk #we really simping for one (1) man #msg me if ur in asia server!!#let's co-op #i rlly want keqing sob #kaeya fluff #genshin impact

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sadistgalore · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 5: Waiting And Waiting, To No Avail

Previous | Next | Masterlist

CW: Police corruption, lady whump, sadistic whumper, creepy/intimate whumper, cutting, pouring salt over open wounds, torture, implied/future non con

“I’m sorry, Beth, but we've tried everything. I've tried-"

“I don’t care! Look harder! Think better, be better, just," Beth took a breath. "Please, find my friend.”

Nic sighed. “I understand what you're going through. I care about Harper too but, we can't find her.”

Beth struggled not to cry. "There has to be something..."

Nic rested his arm out on her shoulder. "Sometimes, we can't do anything but just wait."

"'Till she shows up dead?!" Beth yelled, but her voice broke. "You don't understand," she muttered, head down as she tried to hide her tears dripping down her face. "Harp and I have been together for years. We're like sisters, we were there for each other when no one else was."

"I knew you two had a strong bond, stronger than any two people I've ever met," Nic said as he went to set down next to her partner's roommate.

"Did she ever tell you how we met?" Beth asked after a moment of silence.

"At the orphanage, right?"

"No, actually we met before; Harper always calls it destiny," the girl laughed softly. "Her family's circus came to a theater near my orphanage, when I was around 12. After seeing your parents get murdered in front of you and being able to do nothing when your brother gets kidnapped, it tends to dampen your happy mood. Nothing made me smile after that incident, despite how young I was. But when I saw those group of performers, I felt something I haven't felt in a long time."

She turned and faced Nic. "Joy. I was smiling, laughing! Especially when I saw a girl my age, who went center stage, and threw knives dead center in targets around her."

"Harper," Nic interrupted. "I've never met anyone who can throw knives as good as her. Whenever we would go to the bars, everyone would bet on her at darts since she would always win."

"Yeah, she was- is, she is, she is..." She took a breath. "Harper is good."

Nic said nothing as she continued. "Anyways, after the show, the circus went out and greeted us and as you can guess, Harper went and greeted me. She was so nice, and we connected immediately. Sometime in our conversation, my past was brought up, and I will never forget the look of remorse on Harper's face. She genuinely felt bad, not like the fake apologies that everyone else gave me. She even gave me this,"

Beth held out her wrist, that was encircled in a woven leather bracelet. "She made it herself, saying that good spirits were hidden in the strings. Maybe she should've kept it, since the next time we met was when her family was gone, just like mine."

"I need to find her," Beth pleaded. "She said we would always be together, and we're not."

She stood up and, with a determined composure, she turned to face the detective. "We are meant to survive together, Nic, and I'm going to find her."

"Beth-" Nic started, but she was already making her way to the Chief's office.

He spoke just as she walked in. “I'm sure the detective told you, Mrs. Carrien, there's nothing else we can do to find your roommate.”

The aforementioned roommate’s friend was flabbergasted. “She’s. Your. Detective! There has to be something else you can do! Or is this just payback for her going off on her own?”

The chief raised his hand to silence her. “Although it is true that Detective Winston went on her own to investigate Edward Darmine with explicit orders not to, we are lost on her case; there are no clues pointing to her location. Believe me, Harper is one of my best detectives and I am doing everything I can to find her. Until then, I would suggest going home and getting some rest, Elizabeth.”

“You can not be serious,” Beth whispered.

“I am. I assure you, we will find her. Cases like these take time, she’ll be back in our care eventually, don’t worry.”

Beth eyed him suspiciously.

Why is he so calm? This can’t be right…they can't just sit around and wait, can they?

“She better be,” Beth muttered and walked out.

The chief watched her go, and saw a failed attempt by Nic to talk to her as she walked out of the police station’s doors. He reached for his phone, and dialed the numbers he was told to call.

It rang once, twice, then he heard a voice on the other side.

“I’m assuming Elizabeth Carrien came to your station if you are calling?”

“Yes sir,” the chief answered. “I told her we couldn't do anything else, and we would have to wait for more clues in Harper's disappearance.”

“Excellent. Make sure your other detectives come up empty with their cases, especially Nicholas Malcom. I have a feeling he'll be persistent. I’ll send you your payment by tonight.”

“Thank you. Have a good night, Mr. Darmine.”

Dark hanged up and put his phone back in his pocket.

“Sorry about that little dove, just had to take care of some business.”

Harper wheezed in response. Her body was sprawled out on the cement floor of her cell, covered in shallow cuts due to the bloody knife in Dark’s other hand.

“Don’t worry though, my dear. I just made sure that no one will ever take you from me. Aren’t you happy?”

Harper struggled to even breathe, but managed to respond. “Y-y-yes, s-s-ah, s-sir.”

She had learned quickly after their second encounter not to fuck with this man, and despite her best efforts to keep strong - she was a goddamn police detective in Washington DC, after all - she couldn't help but be scared. She was so, so terrified of her captor that she was forced to call her Master. She hated treating him with with such respect, but she had to make him think she was submissive enough to tell her about her brother. Also, she was tired of being in pain all the time.

“Alright,” the man clapped his hands. “Where were we? Ah, yes. You needed a little reminder about who exactly is in control of this relationship.”

He walked over to a corner where a large bucket of salt water was set. He picked it up with minimum effort, and made his way back to his captive.

“Now, my darling, next time, don’t flinch when Master touches you, alright? And I’m not going to lie to you, this is going to hurt.”

Harper realized what was in his hands and froze. “P-p-pl-please…”

“Now, now, you know the rules. Follow exactly what I say, and you won’t get hurt. Unfortunately, you didn’t listen.”

The moment of suspense ended as he poured the entire bucket over Harper, salt seeping into her open wounds. He remained stone faced as she screamed and writhed in the ground, her entire body in pure agony. She felt like she was on fire, and moving only spread the salt further into the cuts and the blood.

Finally, it became too much and Harper passed out from the pain. Dark smiled as he knelt down to her level.

“Soon,” he said as he caressed her hair. “We can really get to know each other, little dove.”

#whump #torture #sadistic whumper #creepy/intimate whumper #lady whump #lady whumpee #whump writing #original work #my writing #implied non con #Dark #Harper #Beth #Nic #Devil's Playground

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ineloqueent · 4 years ago

Text

Starstruck: Part 11

Brian May x Fem!Reader

This is Part 11 of a multi-part fic. Click the links below to read the Masterpost, the previous part, or the next part of the fic :)

Masterpost / Part 10 / Part 12

Summary: When studying at Imperial College in the 1970s, your path is crossed by a beautiful boy as much in love with the stars as you.

Warnings: swearing

Historical Inaccuracies:

Not sure that Veronica went with Queen to Ridge Farm at all, but hey— creative licence!

Word Count: 6.9k

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

You woke up late, and this you knew because from downstairs you could distinctly hear arguing, and it was rare that any of the others deigned to get up before eight in the morning, which was when you normally awoke.

You wandered into the kitchen with your hair still quite mussed by sleep, but in the very least you were dressed. Unlike Queen, who were waltzing about in pyjamas and dressing gowns.

“It’s just a bit weird, Roger,” Deacy was saying.

“Weird? It’s just a song, John!”

“Just a song?” said Freddie. “Then tell me, darling, why it is you’re pushing so hard for it to be on the album, hm?”

“With my hand on your grease gun?” Brian recited from a piece of paper, glasses on his nose. “Really, Rog?”

“It’s a metaphor, Brian!”

You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Oh, good morning, Y/N,” Freddie addressed you.

“Hello everyone,” you said, amusement still on your lips.

“Morning,” Deacy responded, while Roger grumbled something.

Brian smilingly handed you a cup of coffee. “Back me up on this, would you?”

You leaned against the countertop, next to Brian, whose posture was so positively awful that you could almost look directly into his eyes. But you avoided that carefully; his pyjama top was only half-buttoned, and the pale skin of his chest was visible beneath the open collar. It reminded you of how he had looked on the album cover of Sheer Heart Attack, how your eyes had fallen to where he lay with wide eyes, parted lips, his shirt unbuttoned. Borderline indecent. And outrageously attractive. As he was now.

You cleared your throat. “I don’t know, what’re we talking about, exactly?”

John rolled his eyes. “Roger’s car song.”

“Car song?”

“Mm,” Brian sipped his coffee.

“You’re just jealous that I’ve written something on guitar that’s better than anything you’ve written,” Roger sniffed.

Brian looked affronted. “I’m the guitarist, I have a right to be offended, and no, it’s not better than mine.”

Roger scoffed. “You’ve written exactly two songs—”

“Two and a half,” said Brian pointedly.

“Oh, sorry, two and a half. And exactly one of them is written with an electric guitar piece, and the other one is on... what?” Roger searched for the word. “A ukulele?! This is rock ‘n’ roll, Brian, not bloody folk music!”

“Folk music?!”

“You play the ukulele?” you interjected.

Brian glanced at you. “Not very well, but—”

“He’s going to learn to play the harp too,” Freddie added. “For my new song.”

With a smile in your direction, Deacy said, “You know he plays the piano as well, Y/N?”

You blinked at Brian. Talk about multi-talented.

“Concentrate for a fucking second!” Roger exclaimed, and everyone jumped. “No, don’t concentrate on Y/N, Brian.”

Brian sputtered, throwing up his arms, “I wasn’t—”

“It’s not going on the album, Roger,” Deacy shrugged. He seemed not to dislike the concept of the song, so much as to be getting back at Roger for discrediting his own song writing abilities.

Roger turned to Freddie, pleadingly.

Freddie sighed.

Roger’s face was at this point red with frustration, and he marched from the room.

“Roggie, we can discuss this,” Freddie appealed.

“Can’t,” Roger called back.

Freddie took one look at you all, and you followed him as he hurried after Roger.

You heard a slam! and then a clicking noise, and you frowned, puzzled. Roger had disappeared.

“Roger?”

“Roger, stop this. Where are you?”

“Rog?”

“Go away,” came Roger’s muffled voice.

Deacy raised his eyebrows, catching on before the rest of you. “This trick is getting old, Roger.”

“What the hell—” Brian yanked the handle of a cupboard door. “Oh, you can’t be serious.”

Roger had locked himself inside the cupboard. Just like he’d locked you and Brian in the kitchen.

“Oh, I’m serious,” said Roger. “Put the bloody song on the album, or you’ve lost your drummer.”

“To a cupboard?” inquired John politely.

“...Yes.”

Freddie barked a laugh. “You’ll starve, Roger.”

“Uh,” you began, “sorry to be a downer, but uh, he won’t starve.”

“What?”

“That’s the pantry,” you muttered.

“Why the hell does it have a lock?!” cried Freddie.

“I don’t know! I didn’t design this place!”

Brian placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, and you looked up at him in surprise. “Don’t you have a key?” he said.

Your mouth fell open. “God, I’m actually stupid.”

“No, you’re noooot,” sang Roger from inside the cupboard. “I’ve got it.”

Freddie mumbled something along the lines of, “Well. Fuck.”

“Anyone feel like picking a lock?” Deacy ran a hand through his hair, rested his hands on his hips.

“Or you could just put the fucking song on the fucking album,” said Roger.

“Are we sure you’re the one with the temper, Bri?” you asked.

There was silence. Freddie nodded at you solemnly, eyes wide.

Brian sighed, his hand slipping from your shoulder. Instinctively, you reached up to touch the spot where his fingers had previously curled, soft and warm.

“No one’s winning any points here, Freddie,” Deacy said diplomatically, after at least a full minute of silence. “Let’s just put the song on the album. I’m sure it’ll be fine. It is just a song, after all, you know.”

“Listen to the wise man,” Roger intoned.

“That’s a good line…” Brian mused. Then he sighed again. “You’re so full of yourself, Roger.”

“So that's a yes, then?”

“Fine. But you owe me a siding.”

“A siding?” you asked.

“Next time there’s an argument,” John explained, “which will quite frankly be very soon, Roger has to take Brian’s side.”

“Ah,” you nodded in understanding.

“Freddie?” Roger piped. “I’m not coming out of here until you say yes too.”

Freddie tapped his foot against the floorboards. “Fine, but only because I’m nice, you bastard.”

“That’s actually rather contradictory, Freddie,” said Deacy.

“No, it’s not. I’m the nice one, he’s the bastard.”

“Okay Fred,” Brian replied, unconvinced.

Just then, Heather entered the hall, dressed in a kimono-esque garment you were sure was Roger’s. “Morning, all. Has anyone seen Roger?”

“Ha!” said Freddie. “No, darling. Not for the past few minutes. But god, we’ve heard him. Makes a frightful racket when he doesn’t get what he wants.”

Heather smirked. “Oh I know.”

Deacy laughed.

Freddie shook the cupboard handle, “Roger, are you coming out of the closet or what?”

“Ha ha, very funny.” There was a rattling, and then the cupboard door swung open. Roger stood there, eating a strawberry licorice rod.

You crossed your arms. “You can’t possibly have got hungry in so little time.”

“Peckish,” Roger shrugged. “Good morning, beautiful,” he swept over to Heather and they embraced.

“Ick,” Freddie waved a hand. “Get a room.

“They have a room,” Deacy pointed out.

Brian muttered, “Well, get back to it.”

You laughed.

“Mm, well, anyway, I came to ask why the hell you left our room in such a mess,” Heather jabbed Roger’s chest with a finger.

“You sure that’s not your mess, sweetheart?”

You looked at Heather. “You just came here to kiss your boyfriend, didn’t you?”

“Maybe… Yeah. Sorry Rog. But I also came to ask Y/N if she’s coming with us..?”

“Where’s who going?”

“To town. Veronica and Mary and I, I mean. When we get back, we’re going down the hill to play tennis. We saw your dad earlier, and he showed us where to find the rackets and everything.”

You paused, considering.

“Decisions, decisions,” said Brian.

“Shush, I’m thinking,” you poked his side, and he yelped, leaping away. You raised your eyebrows at him.

“Oh, he’s ticklish,” said Freddie helpfully.

A devilish smile formed on your lips, to which Brian shook his head slowly.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

He flushed in response.

“Y/N? Coming or not?”

“Huh? Oh. Yeah, about that...”

“Or you can come with us to the studio,” suggested Brian.

You didn’t really want to go into town, and Brian had just given you the perfect excuse not to.

Freddie seemed to register your disinclination as well because he said, “Never mind, Y/N. You took too long to decide, so now you don’t get a choice. I need you in the studio with us.”

Heather seemed to accept this explanation, though really, as your closest friend, she should have known you wouldn’t have wanted to go into town. Her lack of friend-intuition likely stemmed from the fact that the two of you had been spending less and less time together as of late. You were hanging out more with Queen, and you supposed, though Heather and Roger were often together, that you were beginning to be closer with the members of Queen than you had ever been with Heather. The thought struck in you a great feeling of melancholy, and for a moment you thought of changing your mind about going with her and Ronnie and Mary, so as to spend more time with her, your best friend.

But Heather wasn’t struck by any such notions of pensive sadness. “Oh well, it appears you’re needed here,” she said. “Want anything from the shops?”

“Wouldn’t mind a chocolate bar,” you smiled.

“Done,” Heather winked at you. “Bye, Rog,” she kissed his cheek and departed.

“Now,” Freddie clasped his hands, “let’s get to the studio.”

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

“Right,” you said decisively. “Try ‘People of the Earth’ again.”

It was four weeks since Roger had locked himself in a cupboard to make the others accept his car song onto the new album, and every day since that had been spent hard at work, with only the evenings devoted to relaxing.

Every morning, you would rise at seven and be in the studio half an hour later, where Roadie-John and Crystal would help you to set up, in time for the others to come and tune instruments and arrange various things at about eight o’clock. The days were then spent writing and recording demos, though mostly writing, as tapes had to be done on handheld recorders, since the studio was not yet fully furnished— your dad still had to install a soundbooth and proper recording equipment.

In the late afternoons and evenings, there were fiercely competitive tennis matches, particularly between your dad and Deacy, who got along as well as ever. There were trips to the pub where your mum greeted you all with discounted pints, there were games of croquet and pool, and everywhere you looked, there was Brian, with some camera or another, from Polaroid to Pentax to an Iloca Rapid stereo camera.

From candids to posed shots, he took pictures of you all, all the time, at every spare moment, though Brian himself always avoided being in front of the camera. You got the feeling that he was, strangely, camera shy. You found it very sweet, though, and so it became a challenge for you to try to take pictures of Brian. He countered this with a challenge of his own, and soon the two of you were fighting a photography war. The result was far too many rolls of film peppered with blurry and out-of-focus images, but Brian didn’t seem to mind that his film was being used on this. He was always smiling when he was taking pictures.

It had yet to be warm enough for you all to take advantage of the swimming pool, but as the days got longer and the sun rose higher in the sky, the indoors would grow stuffy, and the sparkling blue-green water would become a sight for sore eyes.

Freddie now had three songs completely finished, with at least another two in the works. One in particular was quite dear to him, and enthralled you all; it was segments of several different songs woven together in an incredibly artistic manner, and for every day that passed, Freddie added even more segments. He went to such lengths to ensure the song’s perfection that one day, he even declared your dad’s piano unsuitable, instead having a piano of his own, a white grand piano, moved in. It had been an absolute ordeal to get that piano into Ridge Farm’s little studio, and you were sure you that even if you lived to be a hundred and four, you would never forget the shouting and the swearing and the sweating and the laughing and plotting entailed by the piano-shifting day.

Brian, on the other hand, still had only managed to write two songs, and bits and pieces of a third; you teased him that he was becoming more the band’s photographer than their guitarist. Roger continued to work on his car song, but poor Deacy had yet to write anything at all.

Today was Friday, and the five of you had been at work for hours, stopping briefly for a lunch of sandwiches in the garden. You were acting both manager and producer for Queen, and currently, the four of you were trying to help Brian to develop his half-song. It wasn’t going particularly well.

The midafternoon was warm, and the touch of sunlight upon your skin was making you drowsy, and making the others overly finicky and short-tempered. Especially Brian, to whom the pressure was presently applied.

He was running his fingers through his curls every few minutes, and his posture seemed worse than usual when he paced the room, unable to stand still for the frustration of not being able to bring into existence the whisper of a song that danced around his head.

“Vocals, I assume?” said Freddie.

“Yep. Let’s do that.” Your eyes were on Brian, who had kicked off his shoes and was chewing his bottom lip. He didn’t really look up to yet another failed attempt at harmonies and melodies, in fact, he didn’t look up to anything. But you were on a schedule and had to power on, at least for a little while longer.

“Count us in, Y/N?” Roger asked, and you nodded.

“One, two, three, four…”

Oh, oh, people of the earth!

"Listen to the warning," the prophet he said

For soon the cold of night will fall

Summoned by your own hand

The harmonies rose and the four of them made it successfully through a verse, sung as it would have been live, meaning that John was contributing too, though he declined to do so for any of the actual recordings that would happen in the future. A whole verse was quite a feat, one that hadn’t been achieved for the past hour, and you motioned for them to continue through the next verse.

Ah, ah, children of the land

Quicken to the new life, take my hand—

On this line, Brian’s eyes flicked to yours, and in them you saw desperation. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his mouth twisted in a grimace. Take my hand seemed a cry for help.

“You know what,” you interrupted quickly, “I think that’s enough for today.”

“Thank goodness,” said Deacy at once, stepping away from the practice microphone he had been sharing with the others. “I’ll go out on a limb here and say a swim is a good idea..?” He looked around, and the others nodded with defeated temperaments.

Brian in particular concerned you; he was basically swaying at this point. Roger seemed to notice this too.

“Brian, mate, have you had enough water to drink today?”

Brian shook his head, dazedly.

Freddie frowned.“No, I think not.”

“Here, have mine.” You retrieved your water bottle and brought it to Brian. He clutched it but said nothing, and worry roiled in your stomach. Deacy took his arm and guided him over to sit down on the piano bench.

You gathered around Brian, and Roger nudged his hand. “Go on then, have some water.”

Bri unscrewed the cap of your water bottle in a mechanical manner, raising the bottle to his lips and drinking slowly.

“Far too hot in here,” you muttered. “Really must get dad to fix the blinds and the fans.”

“‘S alright,” Brian managed, but he still seemed rather faint, his skin pale and clammy in appearance. The others looked worried, and you wondered if they’d been faced with a similar situation before.

“Come on, darling,” said Freddie. “Let’s get you outside, some fresh air, yes?”

Brian nodded, and together, you and Freddie helped him up.

Outside, you locked the door to the studio while the others deposited Brian on a conveniently-placed bench.

For a few minutes, you and Deacy sat with Brian in silence while he sipped his water and kept out of the sun, and Freddie and Roger had a smoke.

Then Brian finally spoke.

“Thank you,” he said, handing back your empty water bottle. “Sorry I drank all of it.” He winced, and you hoped that it wasn’t because he still wasn’t feeling well.

“Oh, no, it’s fine. Plenty more water where it came from. And I’m sure you’ll need more. Don’t want a second incident of overheating.”

He chuckled softly, and you knew then that he was on the mend.

“Shall we join the others and go for a swim?” John suggested again as the five of you walked back toward the main house. Amongst you, it was quickly agreed to meet by the pool in ten minutes, and so all went their separate ways to get changed.

Eight minutes later, you had swapped cotton for nylon, coated your skin in sunscreen, and slung a towel over one arm. The pool was down the hill, by the tennis courts, and as you followed the path, the others came into view.

Mary and Heather were lying in a pair of yellowed sun chairs, chatting, while Ronnie and Deacy appeared to be having a water fight in the pool, teamed up against Roadie-John and Crystal. The Tetzlaff-Deacon forces were winning, pushing Crystal and Roadie-John farther and farther to their side of the pool, but then again, the roadies seemed to be going easy on their enemies, seeing as Ronnie was nearly nine months pregnant. Roger was sitting on the edge of the pool with his legs in the water, his face turned to the sun and his sunglasses ever-present on his face.

Freddie came down the path behind you, and when he made it to the pool, he threw down his towel and dove straight in.

When Freddie bobbed back up to the surface, Roger splashed him, as payback for having been splashed. Freddie retaliated by pulling Roger into the water by his legs, to which the latter yelped.

“It’s COLD!” he shrieked, and Freddie laughed.

Spotting you, Freddie motioned toward the water. “Come in, darling, it’s lovely.”

“I think I believe Roger more than you, Freddie,” you narrowed your eyes.

“Oh,” said Heather, “don’t. He’s a bit of a wimp, you know.”

“Hey!” cried Roger indignantly. “Then why haven’t you got in, Heather?”

Heather glanced over at Mary, who shrugged. “Your funeral,” she said.

Heather tugged off her coverup, and before Mary could object, grabbed her arm and leapt into the pool, Mary screaming before the two of them plunged under.

“Oi!” said Deacy as they splashed himself and Ronnie, and Heather giggled while Mary shook her drenched head of hair.

“Oh come on, Mary,” Crystal splashed her. She glared, then splashed him back, laughing.

“Y/N, get in!” Ronnie called to you.

You’d put down your towel on a sunchair, and now stood eyeing the pool warily.

It was a large pool, both long and wide, which meant there was more than enough room for all the people already in it. But it wasn’t the pool’s occupancy that deterred you, so much as its temperature. And the fact that Brian was nowhere to be seen.

“I don’t know, Ronnie…”

“The more the merrier!” said Roadie-John.

Roger shoved him. “Don’t say that. It sounds creepy when you say it like that.”

Roadie-John looked at Crystal, who nodded. “Yeah, mate…”

“Sorry, Y/N.”

“It’s fine, it’s not that, it’s just…”

“Spit it out, lovey,” Freddie said, and now everyone was looking up at you.

Add self-consciousness to the list, check. You wrapped your arms around yourself.

“Has anyone seen Brian? He did almost faint, you know.”

“Oh, she’s worried about him, poor love,” cooed Mary. The others made similar noises, Roger contributing kissy faces.

You gave them a murderous look. “Seriously! Are we sure he didn’t just go inside and pass out somewhere?”

“No… We can’t be sure, if we haven’t seen him…” Freddie pursed his lips.

“So you haven’t seen him?” Your hands were growing sweaty, and you wrung them.

“No,” said Deacy, “not until now.” A sly smile spread across his face.

You frowned. “What—”

“Hello, love.”

Arms wrapped around your waist and soft breath tickled your skin, but you had no time to register any of this, because suddenly, you were flying through the air toward the swimming pool, and the water was rushing up to meet you, and you were squealing.

You went under, and the water really was cold, but not like ice, just enough to shock the last of the drowsiness from your being. It was quite nice, actually, to feel awake for once.

In a rush of bubbles, you returned to the surface and whipped your head about wildly, searching for Brian as the others laughed. It turned out that he was right behind you, again, smiling brilliantly and smoothing down his curls.

“Oh, you bastard!” you cried, giving him a hefty shove, and he laughed, splashing you. You shook your head, spraying him with water. “And to think I was worried about you, Bri.”

“Awh, worried about me? What’d I do this time?” He tilted his head to one side, gazing at you expectantly, all doe-eyes and soft lips. With a jolt, you realised that you wanted to pull him to you and kiss the gentle curve of his mouth till he melted against you.

You blushed.

Freddie gasped delightedly. “Oh look, she’s blushing!”

“Awww,” Roger chimed, and you considered drowning them both.

You rolled your eyes in their direction, regaining your composure before looking at Brian again.

Oh, how hard it would be to look at Brian now, when such thoughts had stumbled through your head. But you forced yourself to do it, because you had a façade to uphold.

“You were feeling a bit faint, earlier?” you said casually. “I know your type. Slightly weak constitutions, I’m afraid.” You paused to examine your nails, frowning at invisible specks of dirt.

“You know my type?” Brian crossed his arms over his slim frame, narrowing his eyes. But a smile played on his lips. “And is it yours?”

Your eyes widened, you dropped your hand.

Roger spoke your thoughts, “Bit forward, Brian?”

Brian shrugged his angular shoulders, nonchalant. “Only a question. She must have experience, if she’s asserting she knows my type.”

You crossed your arms too. “Oh yeah I have,” you drawled. “I’ve got loads of experience.”

Deacy practically snorted with laughter. Brian raised his eyebrows at you.

You stepped toward him, squaring your shoulders and raising your chin. “Does that bother you, Brian?”

The sun cast shadows across his face, and his hair fluttered in the breeze. The cool air whispered across your skin, but you didn’t shiver, you weren’t cold. You felt hot all over, even as you stood motionless beneath his hazel eyes.

His lips parted, and when he leaned down, his voice was low, a hum.

“Should it?”

A piece of your precious façade crumbled.

The others couldn’t possibly have heard what he’d said, and he’d clearly meant for it to be this way. But it had brought you back to reality. The reality which was that had you pulled him down to kiss you, he would have pushed you away.

Oh, how wrong can you be. Desire had very briefly blinded you to his lack of the same for you. You wouldn’t let it happen again.

“No,” you said, “but this should!” You splashed him and he gave a cry, and a small water fight ensued.

This then led to Roger’s organisation of a water war, where he insisted upon teams of girls vs. boys, until Freddie pointed out that the uneven numbers would place Roger on the girls team, “Seeing as you look the part, Rog”. Roger quickly changed his mind, though not before whacking Freddie. The teams ended up with you, Roadie-John, Freddie, and Mary pitted against Brian, Roger, Crystal, and Heather, while Deacy settled Veronica against the cushions of a sunchair.

There was no way to count points, so the war, which was really more of a battle, finished after about half an hour, when more than one person had complained of tired arms, and the rest of you had realised that it was impossible for either side to win.

Half of the party stayed swimming, but you, Mary, Freddie, and Brian were cold, and elected to join Ronnie and Deacy on the deck.

Unfortunately, the sun was more harsh than some people— i.e. Brian— had anticipated, and so, after a good long drowse on the deck, some people were starting to look a bit pink. Actually, a bit pink was putting it nicely.

He was lying on his stomach with his face turned away from the light, curls falling partially over his eyes. His skin did not have a tendency to freckle, but his cheeks were rosy and the little lines at the corners of his eyes were deepened by the sun, giving him the glow of someone who smiled often, even when his lips were slack and soft and the expression could not have been farther from his serene features.

Having laid your towel down beside Brian’s, you now reached over to tap his hand.

“Bri?”

“Mmm?” He barely stirred, but he had not been asleep, only dozing, his exhale gentle and his shoulders relaxed.

“Did you put sunscreen on?”

His eyes fluttered open. “Oh shit,” he murmured, and he couldn’t have said anything more prettily. “Am I burnt to a crisp?” he asked languidly, the corner of his mouth turning up.

In a breath, your eyes skimmed over his bare waist, back, shoulders, returned to his face and his half-smile.

“Very nearly,” you said. He shifted an arm experimentally, then winced. Pressing his face into his towel, he let out a groan.

“Whatever is the matter, Brian?” Freddie said over a cup of tea, tipping his sunglasses down his nose.

“Burmpt,” he mumbled into the towel.

“He’s got a sunburn,” you translated for Freddie.

“Ah.”

Deacy, hearing your conversation, leaned over to his wife. “My dear, didn’t you say you brought aloe vera, just in case?”

Veronica blinked sleepily before registering what John had said. “Oh, yes, I did. It’s in the downstairs bathroom, in my toiletries bag. You’re welcome to it, Brian.”

Brian raised his head again, squinting at Ronnie.

“Darling,” Freddie interjected, “he doesn’t know what your bag looks like.”

Veronica gestured to you, “Y/N, you know the one, the cream-tone bag with the silver edging.” You nodded, and she turned back to Brian. “Just take Y/N with you, she’ll show you.”

Brian sighed, then rolled onto his side and sat up gingerly.

He held a hand up over his eyes. “Feel like a stroll, Y/N?”

You stood, stretching your legs. “I would be a terrible friend if I said no.”

“And you’re not, you’re a wonderful friend, so you’re coming with me..?”

“You don’t have to ask. Come on.”

You picked up your towel and slung it over your shoulders, starting back up the path.

Brian was right behind you, taking careful steps to avoid particularly sharp pieces of gravel because he had once again neglected to wear shoes. It was never proper shoes with Brian; he alternated between clogs and socks and being barefoot entirely. With this, and his delicate countenance and curling hair and faraway thoughts, he was afforded the air of some woodland nymph or fairy.

He was beautiful.

You were very well aware.

Inside the house, you quickly found Veronica’s bag and the aloe vera.

Entering the living room where Brian was waiting, you triumphantly tossed the bottle into the air and caught it again. “Ta-daa,” you presented your find to Bri.

“Oh, brilliant!” he said as you passed him the bottle. “It is actually beginning to hurt quite a bit.” He touched his shoulder absently, then grimaced.

“Now that,” you said, “does not look like fun.” You made a face, then went into the adjoining kitchen to get a glass of water.

“How come I’m the only one who got burnt?” you heard him ask petulantly.

“Because, Brian dear, the rest of us put on sunscreen. And you are on the pale side of things.”

“Oh hush,” he said with exasperation, “you’re starting to sound like Freddie.”

You laughed, but you had also been in the process of drinking your water, so it came out like more of a cough.

“You alright in there?” Brian called.

“Yeah, fine,” you said, wiping the water from your chin. “I just can’t drink water like a normal person.”

“At least you don’t forget to, then nearly faint into your bandmates’ arms.”

“True,” you conceded, and he scoffed.

“Make me feel better, why don’t you?”

“What about you? You okay in there with that aloe vera?”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t taste very nice.”

You rushed into the living room, “Brian! You’re not supposed to drink it!”

“I’m joking, I’m joking,” he said, laughter in his eyes at the look on your face. “Christ, love, you’re like a deer in headlights.”

Your stomach tumbled— there it was again, the endearment.

Never darling or dearie, like Freddie; never sweetheart like Rog; never dear, as Deacy occasionally dubbed you. Always lovely, or love, as though he had such to give to you. And when Brian loved, it was fierce. You could see that from how the passing or his aunt haunted him, and how he still missed the cat he’d had in his childhood. His love for those around him was wholly consuming. The disapproval of his father picked him apart from the inside, he defended his friends with valour and gall when not physically pulling them from a fight, and it was plain that he would continue to do so for as long as he lived. But whomever he loved and however it was he loved, he did not love you.

And would never, for as long as he lived.

“Y/N?”

“Sorry, lost my train of thought,” you shook your head.

His brow furrowed. “Sure you’re alright?”

“Doin’ alriiiiight,” you sang.

Brian gave a laborious sigh, rubbing aloe vera over his shoulders. “You really need to spend less time with Freddie,” he said.

“What?” you leaned against the doorframe. “And spend more time with you instead?” You couldn’t help yourself, you couldn’t stop yourself from saying it. But Brian took it in stride.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” he said with a smile, and you were glad you were leaning against something; your legs couldn’t have carried you at that moment, had your life depended on it.

“Y/N,” Brain began hesitantly, “there’s something I have to tell you—”

“Knock knock!” came a shout from the front door, and you and Bri turned toward the sound. Veronica waddled into sight a few seconds later, and you went into the kitchen to greet her. “Found the aloe vera?” she asked.

“Yes,” Brian nodded. “Thank you.”

“No trouble,” Ronnie eased herself into a chair by the dining table. “And I’m sure Y/N could—” She gasped.

“Ronnie?” you asked, as Brian said, “Are you okay?”

Veronica raised her eyes slowly. “I think my water just broke.”

“Uh,” you began. “And what day is it..?”

“It’s the eighteenth of July,” said Brian.

“That’s… early,” you frowned, rooted to the spot because you were quite clueless as to what to do.

Then you looked at Veronica. Her eyes were wide and her hands were shaking, and she’d gone quite pale. “That’s why I’m panicking!” she cried.

“Right,” Brian sprang into action, sweeping over to Ronnie and helping her up. “Let’s get you cleaned up and ready to go, Veronica. The contractions won’t be long now. Y/N, would you run down and fetch John— and Roger, since he’s the only one with a car— please?”

He looked at you almost pleadingly, as though you would ever have said no.

“Yes, of course,” you breathed, and hurtled out the door.

You rounded the corner to the swimming pool and tennis courts almost before you could notice how far you’d run. You’d never run this fast in your life, and after today, you did not intend to do it ever again.

“DEACY!” you shouted, and he got up from his sunchair immediately. Everyone else looked equally alarmed, no doubt with the same questions in mind that John voiced.

“What is it? What’s happened? Are you alright—”

“Yes, yes, god, I’m fine. But Veronica’s water just broke.”

“Oh fuck,” Deacy swore, throwing on a t-shirt and losing his sunglasses in the process. Freddie picked them up swiftly, put them back on John’s head.

“Roger,” you called, “we’re gonna need you to drive.”

“I’m coming,” he said, pulling on his shoes whilst hopping from foot to foot. “Deacs,” he clapped his friend on the back because Deacy had gone completely still. “Let’s go.”

Deacy nodded, swallowed. “I’m going to be a father,” he croaked.

“Yes yes,” said Freddie, “and a wonderful one at that. Now, away with you, darlings.” Freddie gave them both a push toward the path. “And what do you need from us, Y/N?”

“Stay here and make sure you’re by a telephone,” you said. “I’ve got to go with them— to give directions. And please tell my parents where we’ve gone, if you see them!”

“Will do,” Freddie was all business. He called to Deacy, “Good luck, dearie!” and the others echoed similar sentiments from about the pool.

You resolved that one more run wouldn’t hurt too much, and followed Deacy and Roger’s jog toward the main house.

Inside, Brian was waiting with Veronica, a glass of water and a packed bag of her things sitting beside her as he rubbed her shoulders. Brian himself had put on a button-up shirt, but had once more left his top two buttons undone. The sight of him undid you a little bit.

“See, John’s here now,” he said soothingly, and Ronnie gave a little cry, arms outstretched for her husband. “Her contractions have started,” Brian explained.

Deacy ran to his wife and hugged her gently. “Shhh, my dear, I’m here now. And Roger’s got the car keys, so we can go.”

Roger held up his keys triumphantly, then rushed back outside to start the Alfa Romeo. In response, Veronica only nodded mutely, burying her face in Deacy’s shoulder and clinging tightly to fistfuls of his t-shirt.

“Come on, let’s get you up,” Brian murmured, and he and Deacy helped Ronnie to walk toward the door. “Y/N, would you take that bag, please?”

“Yep,” you grabbed the bag and followed the others outside, shutting the door behind you.

Deacy and Brian aided Veronica into the backseat of Roger’s car, and you hopped into the passenger’s seat as Roger shifted gears and pulled out of the driveway.

Roger drove toward town, and made it successfully through in less than thirty minutes, by the combined efforts of speeding and ignoring traffic laws entirely.

“Now, help me out, Y/N,” he said, as a crossroads was reached, and you began to give directions.

In total, the drive took about forty minutes, and with Veronica’s contractions getting closer together, it was a relief to everyone involved when you told Roger to pull into the car park of the Royal Surrey County Hospital.

Out of the car went Ronnie, and you all hurried into the hospital building.

Deacy was swept away with his wife, leaving you and Roger and Brian to stand around aimlessly in the lobby.

The rush of urgency that had pounded through you in getting to the hospital had diminished and slowed now that you knew that your friend and her future child were in good hands, accompanied by the loving husband and father to-be. Deacy may have gone stock still when you’d first arrived by the poolside with the news of Veronica’s condition, but like Brian, when faced with the situation itself, he was a natural, and it was easy to see that he was going to be a wonderful father.

“Well, thank god that’s over,” Roger said, falling back into a chair.

Brian scoffed, taking the seat adjacent. “For you, maybe. The poor woman’s still got to go through labour for christ knows how many hours.”

“And once again,” Roger sighed, pushing his hair from his face and adjusting his sunglasses, “I am glad that I am not a woman. I was stressed enough driving up here, as it was.”

“Were you really,” said Brian dryly. “I had no idea.”

“Well then you’re a bit daft, aren’t you?”

“Sarcasm, Rog. That was sarcasm.”

Roger only rolled his eyes in response. “Come sit down, Y/N. We probably won’t be leaving anytime soon.”

You sat down in the chair next to Brian, though not intentionally; it was the last chair in the row.

“Blimey, these chairs are uncomfortable,” you remarked, having tried to straighten your posture and only succeeded in ailing your back more.

“I’ll second that,” said Roger, shifting in his seat. “And we’ve only been here for two minutes.”

But Brian looked at you more closely. “Back giving you trouble?” he asked.

Your back was giving you trouble, because since coming home to Ridge Farm, you’d been playing guitar every day for two hours at a time, outside of the hours Brian still taught you on Thursday nights, and your posture was getting worse and worse for every session you practiced.

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

Brian shrugged his shoulders. “I have terrible posture, and given that I’m teaching you, you’ve probably learned from the worst.”

“You two are getting old,” said Roger.

“With every revolution of the Earth we are aging, yes,” Brian replied. “But as are you, Roger, so don’t get too cocky. The universe might just throw an asteroid in your direction, out of spite.”

“No science talk, please,” Roger flapped a hand. “I’m on holiday.”

“I thought Ridge Farm was for working on the album,” you said.

“Work, play, it all sort of blurs together,” Roger sighed. “And anyway, I’m not the one turning twenty-bloody-seven tomorrow, Brian.”

Brian winced.

But this was news to you. “Your birthday is tomorrow?”

“Mmm…”

“And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“Why,” Brian smiled, “were you planning on getting me something?”

You folded your arms. “Well, I would have, only there’s no time now.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Y/N,” Roger said, “he doesn’t like a fuss. Silly ol’ Bri always spends so much time fussing over everyone else that it gets to be too much when people fuss over him.”

Brian sank farther into his chair, his cheeks flushing. “If I didn’t tell you to do your washing, Roger, you never would.”

“Yes, mum,” Roger made a face, then picked up a magazine from the side table, obviously not interested in discussing his lack of homelife skills.

Brian blushed again, and smoothed a hand across his cheek.

Why he was embarrassed for being a genuinely caring and thoughtful person, you did not understand. Brian was the one whom everybody turned to for help, no matter the situation, and even when they did not ask for help, he knew instinctively when he was needed, waiting by their side to take them by the hand and make everything all right again.

At least, that was how you saw it.

“That’s not silly, though,” you murmured. “If everyone acted like that, the world would be a far better place.”

“I don’t know about that,” said Brian, “but thank you, Y/N.”

But you weren’t finished. “Back there with Veronica, I had no idea what to do. I just stood there.”

He touched the side of his nose, looking down at his feet. “Nothing special. Just instinct. I could have done more, really.”

You shook your head. “But it is something special, Brian. People don’t think like that.”

Brian looked up. “You do,” he said, unwaveringly.

“Not enough to act on it.”

“I—”

“Just shut up and accept the compliment. You’re a star, Bri.”

Faint amusement flitted across his face, as though he didn’t quite believe you, the corners of his eyes softening. He shook his head almost imperceptibly, glancing down with that adorable half-smile still on his lips.

Then he reached over and took your hand from where it lay on the armrest of the chair.

He dipped his head as you looked up at him, his curls falling over his face and shrouding you both in shadow, creating a little world that existed only for the two of you beneath the fluorescent lights of the hospital lobby.

His slender fingers tightened around yours, and his gaze warmed you, like basking in sunshine by the seaside.

“Thank you,” he murmured, and your heart followed.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

A/N: i slipped into a bit of borhap dialogue there, oops... also, ‘the prophet’s song’ was originally named ‘people of the world’, so that’s why that’s like that :)

taglist: @melting-obelisks @stardust-killer-queen @hgmercury39 @topsecretdeacon @joemazzmatazz @perriwiinkle @brianmays-hair @iamsuperconfusedallthetime-dead @im-an-adult-ish @ilikebigstucks @doing-albri @killer-queen-87 @n0-self-c0ntro1 @archaicmusings

Masterpost / Part 10 / Part 12

#tina's writing #starstuck #brian may #brian may x reader #brian may x y/n #brian may x you #queen #freddie mercury #roger taylor #john deacon #queen fanfiction #1975 #1970s #fic

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