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troubatrain · 4 years ago

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taxi - j. markstrom

a/n: i swore on my life i started writing this and then hours went by and it was done. by the way, aside from this song i still have yet to chose any players for the rest of this series and the google form is open for suggestions (it’s linked below) but anyways, i need to start by saying this got super personal for me and this showcases some of my own experiences with my own mental illness, and not everyone experiences those things the same way and i just want to remind everyone of that before they read! also, i definitely suggest listening to the song while reading it because it just feels right.

i need to tag @danglesnipecelly because k wrote a matty fic and in turn i’m legally required to write a marky fic

part of my lovely little lonely series

tw: mentions of depression, mentions of post-partum depression

“...and in the backseat, when you asked me, is the sadness everlasting? i pulled you closer, looked at you and said love, I think it is...” - Taxi - The Maine

Jacob wasn’t sure when things had gotten so bad.

You were doing better, and Jacob even thought you were doing better than before. You’d been going to therapy again regularly, less of Jacob forcing you to go for his sake and more of going by your own will. You were back on your meds, but even you admitted they felt like they might have been working this time around now that you found the right fit. The adjustment to your new surroundings in Calgary seemed to be going smoothly, spending time with Annica and Elias like you weren’t constantly battling with your own demons.

But god you were.

Jacob honestly thought you were braver than anyone he’s ever known. You met a few years back, when you used to throw on a smile just to walk out the door and Jacob was just starting to make a splash in Vancouver. He was the only person who seemed to notice you in the large crowd you were who was mingling with a few of his teammates. He knew you were something special in that moment, and he’d tell you everyday until you started to believe it. What he didn’t know at the time was, you’d just gotten diagnosed with depression and you were tackling it on your own. Not a soul knew about the days you couldn’t wait to sleep because it was the only time you were able to turn your brain off. They didn’t know about the mess in your apartment that was so embarrassing but you still just couldn’t clean it. And they definitely didn’t know about the long drives where you just thought about never coming back.

Jacob didn’t know these things for a while, but when the signs became clear, he tried his hardest to understand. He came over and cleaned your apartment when you were at work, shrugging it off when you asked him what prompted him to do it. Jacob made sure you were taken care of on days he knew you weren’t able to do it yourself.

Then the east coast road trip happened.

Your relationship was new, and you hadn’t told him what was going on even though it was becoming incredibly clear that he knew. Jacob has always been patient, and you always joke it’s because he’s a goalie, but the truth was that his heart was bigger than him. You called him, teary eyed while you sat on a park bench in the middle of Vancouver and told him you couldn’t do this anymore. At first he thought you were talking about him, maybe he’d overstepped a line he shouldn’t have, but it was clear you meant life. It was just too much, and Jacob knew it was time to push talking about it.

So you did, you laid there in the bitter cold on that bench until the sun came up and talked to him about your mental illness. You talked about your therapist who you’d been seeing but you were honest about the appointments you skipped. You talked to him about the full pill bottles in your bathroom because you didn’t want to take them but you didn’t want anyone to notice you weren’t picking up prescriptions. He was calm, listening to your words and not reprimanding you on the stall in your recovery.

Everyone moves at their own pace Y/N, you can move like a turtle if you want to and I won’t tell you to hurry up and get better.

Jacob never pushed, but that didn’t mean he didn’t educate himself. He read and read and read, everything he could on how he was supposed to help

you. He took classes, he listened to talks and he’d even attended meetings with other people who were in his same position. He wanted to understand, and he did his best to. Jacob did this because he loves you, and he wanted to make sure that was never going to be something you could question.

So that brings him here, standing in your shared bathroom while he counted how many pills were left in that orange bottle and he just knew the math wasn’t going to add up. Jacob runs a large hand over his face, rubbing his temples while he spun out about how this could be his fault. Maybe he should have stayed in Vancouver. Was the change too much for you?

“Babe?” You call out, leaning against the bathroom door and looking at him sadly. Your voice was soft, it always was, like Jacob being in distress was more important than the hell he’d seen you go through.

“Have you been skipping days?” Jacob asks, never with an accusatory tone. He learned that lesson, watching you shrink at his words when he asked if you’d been in bed all day. You start to utter an apology, Jacob raising his hand at you to stop because you didn’t owe him one, “Why didn’t you call?”

Tears were welling up in your eyes, your lip quivering while you tried to find the right words. Jacob didn’t look mad, he wasn’t - he was feeling guilty. He promised you, if you called it didn’t matter if he was in the middle of a game, he’d be there as soon as he could, “You need to be with your new team-”

“Fuck my new team,” Jacob scoffs, shaking his head and opening his arms to you, “You think I’d want to spend any more time with Elias than you?”

“No, I just,” You sigh, pushing a piece of your hair back that seemed to just fall back into place, “I didn’t want to be a bother, you need to be with these guys all the time and how can you do that if you’re worried about me?”

“I can do that because I want to do it,” Jacob reminds you, pushing that same piece of hair back where it belonged, and it stuck, “I don’t feel like I have to worry about you, I want to.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier not to?” You ask, wrapping your arms around Jacob’s waist and pressing your head into his chest. His heartbeat was steady, he was steady.

Jacob was the most stable thing you had in your life. You couldn’t figure what you’d done to experience unconditional love like that, a person to care for you so much that they would do anything to make you happy. He calmed you on the days you needed most and he never pushed you harder than he thought you needed. Turtle speed. He always called it that, but he’d rather see you move slowly to get better than throw on another fake smile.

“My life wouldn’t be easier if you weren’t in it,” Jacob hums, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “Do you want me to set out your meds for the week? In that little container I got you?”

You nod, making a promise to yourself to take the step in getting better. Jacob reminded you constantly, you can’t do this for him, you needed to do it for yourself - he was just helping. He was always going to help.

***

You seemed better.

Jacob swore you were actually doing okay, the little check ins he was doing was working and when he got back from his next road trip - nothing seemed wrong. You were standing across Johnny’s house, laughing along with Annica and a few other girls and Jacob knew that laugh was a real one. This was good, seeing you out laughing and smiling.

“So, when is it going to be time for you?” Annica asks, her hand running over your ring finger, “Marky has to be thinking about having a few running around soon.”

You wish it hadn’t set you off. It was a simple question anyone would ask a couple who’s been together this long.

Children was a conversation you weren’t ready for. The thought terrified you, not because you didn’t want to have them, it was the post-partum talk. You knew the risks, all of the things that could happen after and you didn’t want to stomach that. What if you weren’t enough for your kids? They didn’t ask for a mother who couldn’t get out of bed sometimes let alone take care of them, and you’d be insane to think that was a healthy way to raise a child.

Jacob’s eyes remained on you while you rushed out of the house, fiddling with your hands and shaking your head. That was your tell, and Jacob excused himself immediately, chasing you out of the house. His hands grab your cheeks, steadying you for a moment and wiping the tears from your eyes.

“She asked me when we were going to the marriage and kids thing and,” You ramble out, closing your eyes and shutting your mouth. Jacob knew where you were going with this, it was fear he had too. It was the reason there was a ring in one of his coat pockets at home that’s never been opened because he was waiting for the right time. He’d wait forever if he had to. You were the one there was never a doubt about it.

“We don’t have to talk about it right now,” Jacob sighs, knowing this conversation was far too heavy to be had in public, “But, you’ll never be alone, I’m never going to leave, I’m never going to pressure you into anything. When you’re ready I will be too, but I don’t care how long it takes.”

“What if it’s too late for kids?” You whisper, the fear that Jacob could tell you he’d wait forever but you’d seen him with kids, he was made to be a father.

“We can adopt, foster, whatever you want,” Jacob assures you, the idea of having children never had to be biological to him, “Chucky asked me if we were looking to adopt the other day…”

You let out a laugh, looking and pressing your lips to Jacob’s. You couldn’t thank him enough, not like he’d ever let you, but he was so good. You leaned your head on his shoulder, watching Calgary pass you by while Jacob hums to the radio next to you in the cab to get home.

“You think I’ll always be like this?” You ask, a question that could have been for either of you.

“There’s always going to be bad days, but you’re never going to be alone on them. I promise.”

“Turtle speed?”

“Turtle speed.”

#jacob markstrom #jacob markstrom imagine #nhl imagine #nhl imagines

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elvish-sky · 4 years ago

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Giiiirl! Firstly, you're awesome! Congratulations on hitting such a big milestone! You deserve all those followers and so much more 😊 really, I love your blog- has alot of my favorite go-to stories 😀 and I can't wait to read more in the future! Secondly! Ma'am! Your angst prompts are so angsty- and Im living for it!!! So I guess here's my emoji: 💛 with thorin x F!human reader and the prompts 8 or 14 (I'll let you decide how to make me cry lol!!!) Again congratulations hun, so proud of you!!! 👏😊

A.N: Ahhh thank you so much you’re the literal best!! I now kinda feel bad about how this fic went cause you’re just the sweetest… Umm so this kind of took a rather dark turn at the end but I honestly love it. I’ve never written something like that before! An angsty fic- but with a twist, I think I can get behind this concept! I hope y’all like it as much as I do <3

Word Count: 568

Pairing: Past/Referenced Thorin x human!Reader

Warnings: Angst

****

The Calm After the Storm

You walked through the markets of Erebor, swinging a basket by your side as dwarves parted for you, the rare human. You had lived in Erebor for several months after the Battle, before breaking up with Thorin and being invited to live in the Woodland Realm by King Thranduil himself.

Breaking up with Thorin had been the hardest thing you’d ever had to do. Your heart was torn in two, half wanting to stay with your love but the other half knowing that a human queen, likely to not outlive her husband, would not be right for the kingdom. On one of his diplomatic trips to the kingdom Thranduil had sensed your heartache at still being so close to Thorin, and offered you a place as one of his advisors. It was not a bad role, and you were quite good at it, proven not only by how you negotiated between Thranduil and Thorin after the Battle, but your continued maintenance of good relations between dwarves and elves. It was now almost a year later, and, hearing that there would be a diplomatic mission to Erebor you had volunteered. You needed to be with Thorin, the kingdom would be fine with a human queen. All that mattered was ceasing the constant ache in your chest that pulled you to Erebor.

Now, striding through the markets on your way to the council chambers, you ducked into a side-alley shortcut you remembered. Winding along, humming quietly, you turned a corner. And stopped.

“Thorin?”

He broke apart from the dwarven woman he was kissing, who whispered into his ear before sedately walking away.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Thorin looked flustered, adjusting his tunic and buttoning the top where it had come undone.

“I’m here for the negotiations, representing Thranduil- but what are you doing kissing people in corridors?”

He looked awkward. “I mean, we’re not together anymore. I’m allowed to kiss whomever I like.”

You stepped closer to him. “But we could be together again, Thorin! I was wrong before, and I miss you more than anything. I still love you!”

He looked even more awkward, scratching the back of his neck before clearing his throat. “We can’t, Y/N. I’ve moved on.”

You blinked. “You’ve moved on?”

He nodded. “I had to, for the kingdom.”

“You’re choosing them over- over me?” Your voice broke.

Thorin smiled softly, pityingly. “I am. And I’m happy.”

That made it so much worse. You turned, sprinting down the hall back into the big open markets, finding your way through the twists and turns by muscle memory alone as tears filled your eyes, running down your cheeks and splashing onto your shirt as you turned left, then right, then right again, taking the stairs two at a time until finally, finally you reached the relative sanctuary of your temporary room. You burst through the door, slamming it behind you and collapsing onto the floor, tossing the basket carelessly aside.

Crumpled on the ground, you let the sobs finally break free, wracking your body.

I’ve moved on.

His voice echoed through your head as you cried until there were no tears left to shed.

He didn’t deserve you, anyway.

You were too good for him.

He had moved on.

Resolve hardening like steel through your veins, you rose from the floor.

He had moved on.

And you were going to make him pay.

Everything tag 💞: @entishramblings @itgetsatadhazy @boyruins @anjhope1 @wellofeternalthirst @kumqu4t @katbby16 @thewhiteladyofrohan @kirstenscaffeinateddisaster @beenovel

Thorin tag: @lathalea

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imaginesmai · 4 years ago

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Peter Parker - In your corner

Enjoy this fluffy fic I forgot I had in my drafts!

Plot: Peter is having a hard time in college, and a visit from his favourite girl is just what he needs

The sun was bright in the sky, one of those rare days in early November where you still could wear only a thin jacket. Life was buzzing around you; students that were leaving their classes, teachers that were almost running to their cars, and the occasional reunion that made you smile even wider. Because you had your own waiting for you, somewhere between the entrance and the huge building of MIT.

You tried to stretch your head as much as you could to search for the curly haired boy that you wanted to surprise. He wasn’t that hard to find; Peter had grown that summer a few inches, and his shoulders were bulkier than before. But Friday seemed to be the chosen day to create as much noise as the students could, so between shoves and uncomfortable crowds, you were finding it hard to see him.

Someone behind you whispered your name in what they thought were discreet words, but you heard the giggles and the laughs. It was hard to miss them, when it happened a few times while you skipped the students in your way to find Peter. You felt the uncomfortable itch that they always gave you, and that in the last few months had turned into the horrible grief that you were still carrying. Knowing that you wouldn’t like to find any articles about Y/N Stark lashing out on some students, you pulled the bag closer to your body and lowered your head.

You had to bear with a few more pushes until finally you collided with one that was too familiar. Looking up, you met Peter’s warm eyes and his cheeky smile.

“Hey Stark” Peter whispered, but you could hear him perfectly. “Didn’t take you for one of public places”

“I would have taken the jet, but I didn’t want to embarrass you” you rolled your eyes.

Not noticing the audience that you had besides him, you leaned forward and caught Peter’s lips with yours. It had been three weeks since you last saw him, too busy with SI and with your life back in the lake house. He seemed to leave the shyness aside and leaned further into the kiss, until someone coughed and you had to break apart. If it was possible, he looked even more handsome.

“I’ll see you on Monday?” Peter spared a glance to the group of people he was walking with, while his hand gripped your own.

“Y-yeah, I guess. Uh – have, a… good weekend” a boy you didn’t know stuttered out.

Peter nodded to him and quickly scrambled out of the big crowd. You earned yourself another bunch of shoves and almost got stepped on by a guy as tall as the Hulk. The boy dragging you seemed much more eager to leave the place than yourself, but you didn’t dare to say anything. College could be stressful, from what he had told you, and you didn’t want to pressure him anymore.

So you just stepped to his side and hung yourself from his arm, supporting the bag on your other shoulder. Peter gave you a tight, tired smile and kept walking through the people. What had seemed like a nice day was quickly turning into one too hot, and you were tempted to get rid of the jacket you had brought with you. Knowing you had the car parked a few streets down, you resigned yourself to keep walking and receiving shoves.

After a few long, silent minutes, you were out and you breathed in relief.

“Oh God, that was stressful” you sighed, not tearing away from Peter. “Those are your friends?”

“Yeah – I mean, kind of. They’re my roommate’s friends, and I got along with them although I talk more with him alone”

“That’s good” you said, not really convinced by the answer. He seemed a little dull, almost not there. “I bet they’re not as good friends as me. I bought the car, no more peasant bus or walk”

“Probably, but I don’t feel comfortable doing this with my friends”

Peter shoving you into the wall and crashing his lips to yours wasn’t really a surprise, because you loved to do that all the time, yet the strength he followed the kiss with was a bit of a surprise. One of his hand made its way to your cheek and the other rested wrapped around your waist, making you stick to his body like a magnet. Your noses touched for a second until he tilted back; and then, he just left his lips there.

There was no fire burning like when he had initiating the kiss, just the need of touching each other. It was slow, too slow, and you smiled. His thumb was drawing small circles against your skin, warm and soft.

Peter ended the kiss, but instead of tearing apart, hugged you tighter and hid his head against your shoulder. It was a little awkward, since he had his backpack on and you couldn’t fully hug him. But whatever you did was enough, because he relaxed against you.

Your father’s death had been hard for the both of you, the blip and the separation with the university too. Sometimes, you just needed the comfort of each other.

“Everything fine?” you whispered, knowing he could hear you even with all that noise. Peter nodded against your shoulder and waited a few more seconds before tearing apart for real.

“Yeah. Just needed you, a lot” he answered truthfully, but you sensed it was more. “I hope the expensive car comes with a decent lunch. I’m not eating cafeteria trash again”

“Who do you take me for?” you teased, and grabbed his arm again to keep walking. “I’m the Y/N Stark, I do not eat food for less than 50$”

Peter chuckled and kissed your forehead. Instead of letting you just hang by his arm, like you usually walked, he put his arm around your shoulder and dragged you closer, until there was, once more, no space between the two of you.

The rest of the day ran uneventful, except from the nagging thought that there was something wrong with Peter. You ate in a Burger King and he ordered two kids menu, moving the toy around while you finished your own. It was strange seeing him so quiet and withdrawn, yet so close. He had chosen to sit beside you instead of in front, and when you had gone to the bathroom he looked as if he had been kicked.

You had asked him at least ten times if there was something wrong, but he either shrugged his shoulders or shook his head. The walk around the city was short and too hot, and not wanting to tell Peter that his arm around your shoulders was going to make you melt into a puddle of sweat, you had proposed going back to his dorm, the one you still hadn’t seen.

With Peter’s computer in the wheeled chair and his roommate out of the dorm, you watched a movie and laid close. So close, that in the middle of the movie you found yourself on top of him. Peter, as he always did, took his time to start talking – and when the credits rolled down, he talked.

“I’m not fine” you frowned at his tone, trembling and not as strong as always. A soft song played on the background, and you waited for him to continue. “I feel like – like a failure”

“Why would you say that?” you lifted yourself from where you were laying, landing on his left side with your head propped up in your hand, and the other one still resting on his chest.

“It’s true” he whispered, looking to ceiling lamp to your right. “I think that I don’t… maybe this is not what I’m supposed to be”

“In MIT?” you tried to get more information out of him, using one of your hands to brush the hair out of his forehead.

“I’m falling behind in two of my classes” a lonely tear ran down his cheek. “And… I failed the first physic test”

Peter started talking about how the exam had been too difficult for him, and even if the rest of the students had gotten not so good marks, he felt like he didn’t even understand what they were asking for. One thing led to another, and then he was talking about how he felt alone there too, because his real friends and you were away, and his roommate efforts for including him into his group weren’t enough.

He avoided talking about your father, but still a last ‘and I miss him’ left his lips. By the end, silent tears of frustration were running down his cheeks. You could guess that the mess of the desk was his, not of his roommate, and that he had been having a hard three weeks.

And if there was a part that broke your heart the most, was that he kept saying that he wanted to go home. The fierce protective instinct that you carried with your last name Stark-Potts took over you for a second and you wanted to pay every single thing he could need to finish college from home – but you reminded yourself that you didn’t have a say in the matter.

“I’m sorry you’ve come to visit only to hear me crying about nothing” Peter dropped one arm across his eyes. “It’s pathetic”

“Peter” you called him out, but he didn’t move his arm. “Come on, look at me. I don’t like talking to arms”

“I’m sorry” he repeated, sniffling softly.

“For what?” you insisted. “For talking about your feelings? For being honest with me? Come one, Peter. We’ve already been over it. You know you can tell me anything”

You remembered a few months ago, after the final battle, a similar situation. You had been destroyed by your father’s death, and it had taken a huge toll on you. Not going out of your room, barely eating, nearly zero talking; just lying in bed and crying. It was one of the hardest time of your life, and it had been Peter’s too. But the boy had ended up bringing you out of it by sitting with you a few hours each day, reading a book or watching a show. He had been hurt too, and sometimes he had to make a quick break to the bathroom with the excuse of getting emotional with the book. Still, he had helped you and you were forever grateful.

The problem was that he still hadn’t said anything real about your father’s death. You had seen him carrying everything like nothing, college and moving away. And you knew him well enough to know he wasn’t as good as he said.

Peter lifted his arm slightly at your words, his eyes glassy and red. You used it to push his arm out of the way fully, and stare at his gorgeous brown eyes.

“You don’t have to do this alone, Pete. What happened – what it meant for us… we can’t just pretend it didn’t happen. Sure, everyone suffered the blip. But they weren’t there, and you deserved the peace they’re searching for too” you explained.

“But I – it’s my first year, I can’t… I can’t…”

“If you need to, no one is gonna judge you for coming back home for a while” you comforted him, running a lazy finger across his jaw. “You saved them all, after all”

“So what? That’s not gonna take me anywhere, Y/N” he scoffed, finding the hem of your blouse and moving it between his fingers. “Engineer was my dream. It still is. I don’t want to leave it behind, but – but… I can’t – it’s too much, and –“

Peter’s chest started shaking under you, and his eyes looked away again. There was again, the panic he had been feeling since the begging of the year – maybe after the battle, or even before, when he learnt about five year gap. Unknown to you, Peter hadn’t even touched the suit since he arrived MIT. He spent the nights worrying about tests, studying and assignments, going as far as locking himself in the bathroom, away from his roommate, to have break downs in the shower.

He cursed himself as another tear rolled down his cheek, the lights from the forgotten movie only making the worrying look on your face more prominent. He had so desperately trying to hide it from you, but sometimes he forgot that you’re too similar to your father. Tony Stark noticed everything that was going on with him, so did you. After three weeks of bolting everything, he felt like digging himself in a hole and never coming up.

“You don’t have to leave MIT if you don’t want”

“But I’m failing! I can’t get any work done, I don’t understand anything and –“

“Look, it’s November already. You have winter break next month. And turns out, I have a very capable mother who is also worried about you and is willing to take up with the SI stuff until I come back” you smiled at his wide, surprised eyes. “What about I stay here? We can crash in a hotel, or you can make room for me in your bed. I’ll stay here until winter break, and then you will come home with me”

“I can’t ask you to stay” he squealed out, his voice too high pitched to be against the idea.

“You aren’t asking, I’m imposing, cause I’m a Stark and I’m in charge” you shrugged. You let your head fall back against his shoulder, hugging him close to you.

Both of you knew that it was still too long for winter break. You still had more than twenty days to come, that’s if MIT stopped their classes in early December. And even if you weren’t in college, you still had duties, a little sister and a mother to go back to. Yet Peter knew better than to say anything, so he turned his eyes back on the movie and blinked the tears away, already feeling a bit of that chest pressure lifting off.

“I’m in your corner, Pete” you mumbled softly, caressing the sink on his arm. “I’m always in your corner”

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

Tom Holland and Peter Parker Taglist

@delicately-important-trash

@lexxxistrips

@aikaterrina

@zalladane

@gypsystuf (since you didn’t answer me, I just put you on the general taglist. Let me know if you want to change!)

@nikkixostan

@galaxystern08

@justifymyfeelings

@dummiesshort

@marvelhoesworld

@wild-rose-35

#peter parker imagine #peter parker #peter parker one shot #peter parker x reader #peter parker fic #spiderman #spiderman imagine #spiderman one shot #spiderman x reader #spiderman fic #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland x reader #tom holland fic #imaginesmai #imaginemai

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perriewinklenerdie · 4 years ago

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History repeats itself (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Open Heart, Ethan Ramsey x MC

A/N: Hi guys! I'm on a roll (it's that high that patients that are about to die experience right before they crash. Kinda fitting, giving the fact that I'm going to die tomorrow bc of OH, isn't it? :D), like back in the old, good days. This was a request made by a wonderfull Nonnie. Thank you so much for suggesting it! I hope you enjoy it and that I didn’t disappoint :D

This fic is part of the ESIMY series (Claire and Ethan met and got married before they started working together and that’s basically all you need to know, as the fic can be read as a separate work)

Tag list: @paleweasels, @kittykatchoices, @valiantlychaoticbarbarian, @radlovedreamer , @usuallyamazinglyaverage, @awhmilkywey @palestazure, @cordoniaqueensworld, @universallypizzataco, @princess-geek, @faithhasnowords, @mightyfangirlofthefandoms, @drakewalkerfantasy, @timmagicktoad, @laceandlula, @greywitchyshots, @llamasgrl, @gingerjane15, @bucket-harrington , @marywrites-things , @ethanplaysfavorites , @mfackenthal , @betelgeusebee , @simsvetements, @buzz-bee-buzz, @owleyes374, @cora-nova, @aworldoffandoms, @l822, @cream-ray, @ughhhxjazzy, @silverlitskies, @justendlesssummerfeels, @togetherwearerapture, @desmaranj, @edgiestwinter, @friedherringclodthing, @daisy-ashton, @waytooattuned, @choicesgremlin , @lapisreviewsstuff, @the-soot-sprite, @writerapprentice, @chasingrobbie, @choicesobsessedd, @x-kyne-x, @thisperfectmemory, @drakewalker04, @rookie-ramsey, @jlynn12273, @thepinknymph @dr-brianna-casey-valentine, @a-i-n-a-a-s-h @justanotherrookie @mvalentine @starrystarrytrouble

Enjoy! <3

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Paging Dr. Ramsey to Dr. Banerji’s office.

He looked up from the article he was reading, expecting a message from his wife. They were supposed to go home soon, finishing her last day of work before she would go on maternal leave. The page didn’t read as urgent, and yet somehow, a shiver ran down his spine. He couldn’t explain it. Call it a hunch that made him abandon his work and rush through the halls of the hospital.

Naveen was waiting for him by the door, his expression gravely. The air in the room was so thick that Ethan, who was running, stopped abruptly in his tracks, feeling weight being slammed against his chest. He didn’t know what was happening yet, but it couldn’t have been anything good.

“Naveen?” he asked, walking closer, treading slowly and carefully, as though it would save him from the approaching heartbreak he could already feel. His friend sighed heavily, stepping towards to him and laying his hand on Ethan’s shoulder.

“You might want to sit down.”

“Tell me. I need to go pick Claire up from the locker room in five minutes.” He didn’t miss how his mentor’s face fell at the mention of her name, making his stomach drop in worry. “What happened?”

“Claire is being transferred to the OR as we speak.” He said, the next words being an almost exact echo of his own words years back. “She had a seizure, full eclampsia. We’re delivering the baby.”

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

That day, from the very beginning, was a bust. Her head was pounding, slowly but surely rising and breaking through the threshold of her pain tolerance, causing her to reach out to her OB-GYN in search of any advice, along with some painkillers. Her vision was getting blurred around the sides from time to time, making it incredibly difficult to read charts or look her patients in the eye. Esme asked her about it, figuring out something was wrong when she misread the patient’s name while they were walking towards their room, but she dismissed her with a kind smile.

“That’s pregnancy for you.” she joked, seeing in her resident’s eyes that she didn’t believe her. Sighing heavily, she nodded. “Okay, it’s not typical. I- I would appreciate if you kept your eye on me today. I feel like something is about to go south and I’d like to avoid that.”

“Of course, I’ll watch you like a hawk.”

Light sensitivity came next. Supply closets were her biggest friends that day, providing with as much darkness as she wanted, blocking out any traces of light. She couldn’t barricade herself in there, no matter how much she’d want that, so she braced herself and pushed through.

She knew all those symptoms too well. She was, after all, treating her pre-eclampsia since it reared its ugly head three weeks ago. The moment she heard her diagnosis, she felt as though she has been struck by a lightning. It was the same diagnosis she gave Dolores not even three years ago.

Ethan wouldn’t survive it if this case ended the same way.

Claire was battling with herself. Should she tell him about it and let him worry about her every second of every day until she gave birth and the postpartum eclampsia was ruled out, or should she shoulder that weight on her own, treating it behind his back and praying that he’d never have to find out that the very same complication that took away his dear friend not that long ago, now threatened to take away his wife too.

She opted for something in between. There were symptoms that she couldn’t hide from him, about which they talked and she let him ask about them on their appointments. Dr. Weland, her OB-GYN, was aware of the whole situation, carefully formulating her answers for the first-time father.

It kept her up at night. She knew he would be scared, disappointed that she didn’t tell him, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. He’d lock them both up at home for the remainder of her pregnancy, with a private doctor at hand, and treat her with extra caution. But most of all, she didn’t want to see the panic in his eyes, which she knew she’d find there. He would stop sleeping, watching over her at every moment.

Dr. Weland expressed her concerns when she saw Claire that day, hence her asking Esme to keep an eye on her. It wouldn’t be wise to send her home; she would need help in case something went horribly wrong.

Three hours later, as though on cue, she felt pain in her stomach, right below her belly button. All the symptoms she’s been experiencing that day cumulated, striking her at once with double their force, bending her in half. Esme, who was just down the hall, called out her name, rushing towards her, just in time to catch her as she crashed towards the ground, her body shaking.

“She’s seizing! Page Dr. Banerji!” the resident shouted, taking care of the fallen doctor.

“What about Ramsey?” someone asked, pager in their hand.

“Do as I say!”

What happened next could only be described as a chain reaction, its magnitude that of an avalanche. Naveen was called, OR was ordered, Claire was moved onto the bed and wheeled away. The hardest was still ahead of them.

Ethan fell against the wall heavily, struggling to catch his breath. “What do you mean eclampsia? Did she have any symptoms before that? Did she know? Who found her?”

“Dr. Ortega. She probably has more answers for you than I do. Come on, we’ll talk to her and Dr. Weland.”

His every move felt as though there were two impossibly heavy bricks attached to his feet, and another three on his shoulders and his chest. Panic began rising in his chest, fighting the overwhelming urge to let the tears fall. Esme was waiting for them by the entrance to the OR, worry spelled on her face.

“Can someone tell me why my wife and my daughter are fighting for their lives in there?” he barked the question, shaking in emotional distress. Naveen placed his hand on his shoulder, asking him silently to let the doctors speak.

“She’s been not feeling well for the whole day. Asked me to keep an eye on her; she told me she felt like something was about to happen.” the youngest doctor explained, stepping away to make space for Dr. Weland.

“Claire was treating her pre-eclampsia for the past three and a half weeks. The symptoms you noticed and were asking about were all a part of it. She asked me to not tell you, hoping that she would be able to avoid developing eclampsia.”

Never before in his life had he looked up at someone so fast. “She knew? And she didn’t tell me?”

“Ethan, I know you’re angry but-“

“I’m not angry. Right now, I’m terrified, because my family is fighting for their lives and I’m here, instead of being by their side. Step aside, I’m scrubbing in.”

“No.” Naveen shook his head, pulling him aside firmly. “And you know why.”

“Move out of the way, Naveen, I’m going in there.”

“I’m going to lock you in my office if you don’t calm down. You won’t help anyone by being emotional and reckless. Breathe, son, they’re going to be alright.” Ethan’s breathing was treading on the line of hyperventilating, panic rising in his chest even more. At last, tears fell, two trails running down his cheeks. He fell into his friend’s embrace, sobbing like he hasn’t done in a very long time. Helplessness, anger at fate and at himself for not noticing it sooner. “Claire is a fighter, so are you, and so is your daughter. They’ll pull through.”

“The last time I had to give this diagnosis to a person I cared about was Dolores, and she was dead within ours. Don’t tell me to calm down.” He stumbled over his words, holding onto Naveen’s arms for dear life.

“This time will be different.”

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

Not even an hour passed before the surgery ended. It gave Ethan enough time to go over the last weeks, all the pieces falling together into one tragic picture. It was all there, right before his eyes. Edema on her hands and feet, which could be written off as a pregnancy symptom. Headaches plagued her quite often even before she was married, so he didn’t even bat an eye on it, maybe except for the intensity of them. Her nausea returned long after her morning sickness phase passed, but again, pregnancy manifested itself with a variety of things.

He blamed himself. After Dolores died, he thought he’d be able to see the symptoms and prevent it from getting worse, but when it mattered the most, with his own beloved wife, he failed to add two and two.

“Ethan, you can see them now. The baby is safe and healthy, Claire’s condition is under control, she’s stable and conscious.” Naveen called out for him, a small smile on his face spelled out relief.

Jumping to his feet, he ran towards them, catching the room number from a shouting Naveen, not waiting for anyone. Nurses and doctors moved out of his way, some of them knowing what happened, others having no idea but knowing better than to stand in Dr. Ramsey’s way.

The lights in the room were dimmed, curtains closed, providing privacy and peace. Ethan opened the door as quietly and gently as he could, his stare falling onto Claire immediately. She smiled at him lazily, watching his every move in anticipation. He strode towards her, sitting at the edge of the bed and taking her hand in his, rising it to his lips and kissing it, over and over again, saying silent prayers of gratitude. Tears started running down his cheeks again, wetting her skin, his shoulders shaking as he let out all the emotions.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered, choking on her words, her face wet with tears too. He looked up at her, shaking his head.

“No. It’s my fault. I- I somehow attract tragedy. My Mother, Naveen, Dolores… and now you.” She looked at him confused, not understanding his reasoning at first, only seconds later did she remember his thought process, her eyes filling with horror.

“Ethan, that’s none of your fault. I won’t be sitting here, letting you blame yourself for something completely out of your control.” She grabbed him by the sides of his face, hauling him onto her, pressing their lips together and lingering there, connecting them, again and again. “Your Mother wasn’t your fault.” Kiss on the nose. “Naveen wasn’t your fault.” Kiss on the forehead. “Dolores wasn’t your fault.” She kissed both his cheeks, catching his tears. “I wasn’t your fault, and neither was she.” She cried, her voice getting thick from tears. Her head crooked towards his left, pointing towards their daughter.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” his words stabbed her like a knife that she herself was holding against her heart. She knew he’d ask, but she wasn’t prepared for it, no matter how many times she rehearsed it in her head.

“I didn’t want you to worry.” She explained after a moment, biting her lip in shame. “I thought if I can get through this and not have any complications, you’d never have to find out. Especially with how it ended for Dolores…”

“There isn’t a single thing in this world more important to me than you two. Whatever it is, however hard it gets, I want to be there for you. For both of you.”

Both of them cried silently, embracing each other as closely as they dared, refusing to let the other get away even for a mere inch. Silent comfort, not needing any words, only each other, alive and well.

The soft sound of wailing pulled them out of their little bubble, pulling their attention towards the crib by the bed. Ethan stood up, walking over to look inside, Claire peaking from her position on her bed.

A little girl was staring up at him, her eyes blue and curious. She couldn’t smile yet, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t see how at peace she was. Perfectly fine.

His whole family was perfectly fine.

“Katherine…” he muttered, running the outer edge of his index finger along his daughter’s cheek softly.

“She looks like a Katherine to you?” Claire asked, humor in her voice. He nodded, turning to his wife. “I was thinking of Isabelle.”

“We can compromise.” He embraced her, kissing her head tenderly.

“Katherine Isabelle Ramsey. Perfect.”

#open heart #ethan ramsey #mc x ethan #ethan x mc #dr. ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #mc x ethan ramsey #choices #choices fanfiction #open heart fanfiction #fic #fanfiction

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laine-o · 4 years ago

Text

A Parting Gift

TRIGGER WARNING – major death, heavy angst, you have been warned. Please read this fic at your own risk or skip this if you are not comfortable with this kind of content.

———————————————

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

“MAMA!!!” Sarada screamed as she ran back.

This wasn’t supposed to be happening right now.

It was too sudden, only moments earlier, a man had infiltrated Sakura and Sarada’s hideout in the outskirts of Konoha territory, deep in the forest. Many enemies had been targeting the sharingan, forcing sixteen year-old Sarada and her mother into hiding. Sakura sensed the intruder as he had tripped a well-concealed trap. Sakura roused Sarada and quietly ordered her to escape. Sakura would deal with the intruder. Sarada had slipped away roughly a few hundred meters away when the first sounds of the scuffle broke out, leveling the land and the trees. The fighting shifted to an open clearing before all sounds stilled. Sakura had not yet caught up with Sarada when she was about a quarter mile away. Disobeying her mother’s orders, as Sarada sensed something was wrong, she turned around and headed back.

Sarada quickly neared the scene of the battle, a feeling of dread mounting in her heart.

Then she saw it.

The glinting blade descended from the sky swiftly impaling Sakura’s chest, through her body. Despite not piercing Sakura’s heart, the chakra-charged weapon disrupted and distorted the regularly beating rhythm of the cardiac muscle.

Sakura’s figure suddenly stalled. It was like slow motion in Sarada’s eyes. Whoever this rogue ninja was, from what Sarada’s sharingan could see from the distance, possessed the sharingan, but the chakra surrounding his eyes seemed different from “natural” Uchiha chakra. There were only three true sharingan left in the world: her father, Sasuke Uchiha’s, singular sharingan and her own paired set. Hers were the only ones still with their original owner.

Tears blurred Sarada’s vision as she watched her beloved, but powerful mother struggle against the blade as she mustered her strength. Blood flew out of Sakura’s mouth as she coughed violently. Sarada continued to race towards her mother, but she was still too far away to help. Oh, if only she could teleport like her father!

“GET BACK SARADA!” Sakura roared, byakugou flaring to life and snaking around her body. The wound partially closed to seal off the blood flow for a few precious minutes. Sakura reached forward, grabbed the blade protruding from her chest, pulled and sank it deeper into her chest, through her body, surging forward towards her attacker. Fist raised. Charged.

“MAMA STOP! Just get away from him!” Sarada cried out desperately.

“NO! They’re not taking you! They will not have your eyes! Not on my life! And not on your father’s! SHANAAROOOOOO!!!”

A final yank on the blade propelled Sakura forward. The glowing fist connected. It was the hardest chakra-enhanced strike Sarada had ever witnessed from her mother. A shockwave radiated from the point of contact, catching Sarada off guard, knocking her off her feet. Sarada flew backwards, slammed into ground, the wind knocked out of her lungs. The last thing she saw was the rogue shinobi flying away from the contact, the last thing she heard was a loud reverberating crack as her mother’s opponent plummeted into the ground from the impact. The ground split open and boulders, debris and dust hurled into the air.

In the next second, the rocks driven upward by the explosive impact of her mother’s chakra-charged fist, rained down

As the dust cleared and settled, Sarada slowly got up, frantically scanning the vicinity for her mother. She spotted her mother lying on the ground a few yards away, sword jutting from her chest, with her characteristic pink hair, blood-stained, in the epicenter of the battle that took place.

Sarada raced to her mother’s side and kneeled down, clutching Sakura’s hand.

“No, this can’t be happening, not you too.” Sarada whispered, feeling for a pulse that was erratic and faint, weakly beating.

“Sarada, look at me,” Sakura’s voice whispered, hoarse, but tender. Sad, but proud and confident.

“No. No. No.” the tears fell from Sarada’s eyes and onto her glasses, obscuring her vision.

“Mama, you can fix this, you have the byakugou, I have byakugou, we can do it! We can summon Katsuyu-sama,” Sarada begged, knowing that her plea was empty.

“No sweetie, you need to keep storing chakra for your byakugou, it’s not ready yet. Something about that blade’s chakra upset the rhythm of my heart. I can already tell it can’t be reset without withdrawing the invading chakra, resetting the network and hours of surgery that Katsuyu-sama alone cannot perform. I would need a top medic team and Shizune-san to operate on me. From my brief analysis, this isn’t an injury to heal, it’s a disturbance, my wounds and heart would heal physically but the rhythm would still be incorrect and slowly kill me before I made it back. This enemy clearly knew who they were dealing with, and he also knew where to find us. Our location must have been betrayed and I think he must have once crossed paths with your Papa. But at least they won’t take your eyes. You’re safe, my love.”

“I can’t lose you too, papa is gone already.” Sarada didn’t realize, but her sharingan was spinning erratically, already changing due to the loss of the greatest love of her life, her mother.

“Two sharingan transformations in one year…and a new one at that...” Sakura murmured. “Sweet child, listen to me, while we still have time, I need you to come closer to me and close your eyes.”

“I can’t, I want to see your last moments.” Sarada vigorously shook her head.

“Just do it,” Sakura whispered urgently. “I’m not sure if this will work, but I need to try.”

Sarada looked at her mother in wonder, “what is—“

“Hurry!”

Sarada complied and snapped her eyes shut, leaning in, though the tears were still freely flowing. Sakura pushed Sarada’s glasses aside and gently touched her eyelids. Warmth emanated from Sakura’s hands. The soothing chakra flowed into Sarada’s eyes, but something else akin to power and rejuvenation did as well. This chakra felt different than usual from healing chakra, Sarada gathered, but could not figure out what her mother was trying to do.

After a few minutes. Sakura’s hands left Sarada’s eyelids. Slowly, the hands moved to remove Sarada’s glasses.

“Open your eyes, Sarada.”

“But I can’t see without my glasses.”

“It’s okay, I think you can.”

Sarada slowly opened her eyes and looked at her mother’s green ones. The byakugou seal had disappeared from Sakura’s forehead. Sarada gasped in realization. Her vision was clear and sharp. Sarada quickly looked around her, at the dead rogue ninja corpse, to the destroyed clearing, and back at her mother.

“You really do look so much like your father without those glasses.” Sakura chuckled weakly and ever so lovingly. Taking a shaky and deep breath, “it looks like my forbidden jutsu worked.”

“What did—?”

“I imbued your sharingan with my byakugou seal. Effectively, I also repaired the genetic mutation in your eyes that caused myopia. I’ve been secretly working on this jutsu because I didn’t want you to go blind from the mangekyou sharingan that awakened when your father died. The infusion of byakugou was essentially to grant you the properties of eternal mangekyou sharingan, in theory, so that you can use your eyes freely. The amount of chakra contained in my seal is now within your eyes and will, for the rest of your life, continually heal the damage inflicted from using the mangekyou. You have no sibling to donate sharingan eyes to you, so with my jutsu, the blindness that would have occurred from using your mangekyou, will not happen to you, I made sure of it. I was saving this jutsu for the day I no longer needed my byakugou seal,” Sakura, paused, a dry cough escaping from her lips. “Darling, you need to find who stole your father’s eyes and reclaim them. The clue lies within this man’s body. You must have noticed too, he had mutated his own eyes to sharingan eyes. They are not the original. They must have gotten the DNA from your father’s eyes.”

Sarada’s trembling lips kissed her mother’s forehead. “I will find them—promise. Thank you... I-I love you ma-ma--,” Sarada’s voice broke.

“I’m going to join your father soon,” Sakura said softly, reaching up to touch Sarada’s face, tenderly stroking her cheek. “You are destined to be the first Uchiha to become hokage. Bring peace and love we are still sorely missing back to the world. I know you can do it, you’re such a brave and smart girl. I’ve... always loved you so much before you even existed... be strong, my love.”

Sakura’s face broke into a last brilliant and radiant smile as she reached up with two fingers and poked Sarada’s forehead one last time.

With the loss of the byakugou seal, a few more harsh breaths, Sakura’s hand grew limp and slowly fell away from Sarada’s face. Those beautiful green eyes once so full of life and vivacity, glazed over, their light extinguished forever.

Sarada crumbled. She bent over her mother’s body and screamed, wailed and cried like her heart had shattered into a million pieces.

Sarada cried until she no longer had any tears left. As the last wracking sobs left her body, Sarada steeled herself and slowly rose to her feet, resolving to return her mother’s body to Konohagakure and lay her mother to rest next to her father’s grave. Biting her thumb, Sarada quickly drew a seal and summoned Katsuyu. Somberly, the slug bowed down to honor her late great master with a brief moment of silence. Sarada choked back sobs that threatened to tear out of her throat once more.

“Katsuyu-sama, please transport the rogue ninja’s body back to Konoha for investigation. I will follow with my mother’s body.”

“As you wish, Lady Sarada.”

Gathering herself, Sarada activated her newly transformed sharingan and cast Susanoo. This time, it was perfect because of her mother’s parting gift. Reaching down with Susanoo, Sarada removed the sword from and lifted her mother’s body, cradling her. Slowly she turned in the direction of Konoha village, to head back and inform the village that the last of the neo-sannin, her mother, had been killed in action.

———————————————

Closing thoughts: Hey everyone, thanks for reading! I am so sorry for that. I would be lying to all of you if I said I didn’t tear up while writing this. This hurt me so much. But I had this idea for a long time (this has been sitting in my drafts for over a year now) of a workaround for Sarada’s eternal mangekyou sharingan given she lacks siblings in canon. I have always hesitated to post this because of the major character death(s) (if we include Sasuke’s and Naruto’s) and I didn’t want anyone getting angry at me ^^;

I definitely made up more than a few plot points to get the fic going, but the main purpose of this fic was to just explore the idea of how Sarada would receive a work-around to the eternal mangekyou sharingan and for me, the idea was from Sakura developing a forbidden jutsu behind the scenes to treat Sarada’s vision permanently and Sakura administering the treatment on her deathbed. I also just really wanted to explore the emotions that would have occurred in such a scene, and some of these quotes have already been in my mind for some time. I could see this potentially being a multichap fic with how it is set-up with loose-ends and it would be Sarada-centric as she tries and tracks down who is behind the killings of the neo-sannin and getting Sasuke’s eyes back, but I am going to leave this as a standalone one-shot fic.

Also feel free to yell at me if I didn’t tag this correctly, but I do believe it counts as a SasuSaku and SasuSakuSara fic.

#sasusaku fic #sasusaku fanfiction #sasusakusara fic #sarada uchiha #sasusaku #mywriting #my writing #laine-o writes

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fullmetalscullyy · 4 years ago

Note

Hello I don’t know if this is the right place for requests but can u do a royai angst where roy is the fuhrer and has diminished the power of miltary and has introduced democracy and the war criminals of ishvalan are being put to trial and basically some intimate royai moments leading up to their deaths . Thank youu and love your workkk

aaaah anon thank you so much 🥺 you’re far too kind <3 and yes, this is the right place! this was a gooood prompt, very angsty!! i’ve not written something here about leading up to their trial (the reason why is explained in the fic), however this is their “last night together” 👀 hope you enjoy!! and thank you for the ask <3

also, if you’re interested, i’ve already done something similar to this request if that’s more what you’re looking for! riza goes ahead and gets put on trial before roy after he’s part of a political marriage with drachma. it’s call “the last dance”

rated: m | words: 1679 | warnings: adult themes, discussions of death/execution

“So…”

The single word hung in the air of his home office, feeling like it signalled the end of another chapter in his life. Fuhrer Mustang sat back in his chair, sighing as the last piece of work he needed to complete was signed off and ready to be presented to parliament tomorrow. It would signify the end of his reign as Fuhrer and would put him on trial for his war crimes, along with all of those who participated in the Ishvalan Civil War as State Alchemists.

It was a marvel, how the single sheet of paper upon his desk would end his life. The document held such a power of him that it was almost terrifying. Although, that may have just been pure instinct talking. He didn’t want to die. A part of his mind was screaming at him to burn it however it was only a tiny part. It was quickly shoved aside and replaced by grim satisfaction. He’d achieved what he’d set out to do. His goals had been reached and there was nothing more for him to do now. Tomorrow, with this document, his power would be dissolved, and he’d be in prison.

“It’s done?”

Glancing up, he caught Hawkeye’s eye. Her expression was calm and collected like always as she patiently awaited his answer.

Roy nodded. “It is.”

Nothing more was said. There didn’t need to be anything else spoken. Not until she started to pack up her things, her movements slow and controlled.

Working from home had become the more preferable option as of late. His old wounds would ache so much from time to time that he would be left breathless, so remaining at his home office was better for him. Roy felt as though he had the body of a pensioner, but in truth it was only forty-five. Still, he’d lived too long and seen to much not to be in the mindset of the elderly. He was weary from his uphill battle to Fuhrer, but one of the hardest parts, the final part, was only just beginning.

Of course, being his adjutant, Hawkeye had come to work within his office at home as well. Where he went, she followed. Despite his insistence that he’d be fine and that she should go into HQ for the day, there was no arguing with her. As stubborn as ever, Roy noted fondly.

“Stay for dinner?”

It was a request he put forth every time, which she politely declined. He hoped… Well, if this was to be their last night of freedom, Roy wished she would say yes.

Her movements slowed and then she paused, staring down at her desk.

“Our final meal?” The corners of her mouth quirked up slightly but didn’t stay.

Roy nodded. “We can do that.”

“All right,” she agreed.

There was no fanfare to it. They didn’t particularly deserve to have one final night together, but now that their judgement day was here… Roy just wanted to spend time with her. If he had to watch her die, be executed, then he wanted this last night together.

Grimacing as he stood from his chair, Roy breathed out hard as his side continued to ache.

He cooked for her. They chatted, but it was subdued and remorseful. She never met his eyes for long, opting to stare down at her food. It killed him inside but would never fault her for it. He’d signed her death warrant that evening. How could she be happy with him? Roy knew Hawkeye was committed completely to this goal, but still… It didn’t sit well with him that he’d agreed to send her to her death.

“Is…”

He glanced at her. They’d had a brief moment of silence as they finished up their meal.

“Is it… wrong of me, to not want to leave?” Her head lifted, meeting his eyes. There was no sadness there, just curiosity and a slight frown on her features.

“I felt the same way looking over that document,” Roy revealed. He placed down his knife and fork, wiping at his mouth with a napkin. “But I don’t think it’s wrong,” he added gently. “As a species, we don’t typically want to jump headfirst into death every day.”

“No,” she shook her head. “Well, I suppose yes, that’s what I meant too but…” Her eyes were fixed on his, and Roy finally caught her meaning. “Is it wrong of me to not want to leave here tonight?”

Roy blinked at her. Again, her face was calm, her tone even. It betrayed none of her wants and desires.

“You can stay,” he replied slowly.

“I’d like that, Roy,” she whispered.

* * *

Roy held her close as they both swayed gently in time to the music in his bedroom. Riza’s head lay against his shoulder, his cheek resting against the top of it. One of her hands was gripped tightly within his, which he’d moved above his heart as they moved together. His other was wrapped tightly around her waist, holding her body close, while Riza’s free hand was on his lower back. Over time, her hand had fisted in his shirt, as if that would bring him closer to her. They’d been like this for a while, but she had no desire to leave his embrace. She would remain there until morning if she could.

“I know what we have to do,” Riza swallowed, “and I’m steadfast in my decision, however…” She gripped his hand tighter and Roy understood. It always amazed her how he could read her so easily.

“I don’t want to leave you,” he whispered.

“I feel the same way.”

Roy pressed a kiss to the top of her head and Riza’s eyelids fluttered closed. She would cherish this moment and this night for the rest of her short life. It would get her through the trial to come.

“That’s what’s making me fight this internally in my mind,” he added. “Leaving you, signing your death warrant, and ensuring your execution.”

“We decided –”

“We did decide together,” he conceded, “I know. However, how can my heart and soul rest when I know I’ve sent the woman I love to her death?”

“How can I rest easy, knowing that decision resides solely on your shoulders? I can be open and agreeable to it, but it’s you who has to present it to parliament,” she countered. “It’s you who has to announce to the nation that you’re killing your friends… and me,” she whispered. “I can’t rest either, knowing that you’ll be gone.”

“We’re going together,” he replied firmly. “I can’t… I can’t let it happen, knowing that one of us went first, leaving the other behind.”

It didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, but Riza appreciated that.

It was cathartic discussing this with him. They’d have no time once they were arrested. There would be no open shows of affection when they walked head-first towards the execution squad. They’d be back to Fuhrer and his Aide. This night was all they had. Selfishly, Riza wanted this night with him, and she wanted it not to end.

“I love you,” she whispered against the skin of his throat. She’d turned her head, angling it around the collar of his shirt so she could feel his skin against her cheek. It was warm, like it always was. A beacon of comfort for her.

“I’ll love you always, Riza,” he murmured into her hair. “Never forget that, please,” he pleaded.

“I won’t,” she reassured him. “I could never.” Her lips pressed a kiss against his throat, sealing her promise. It made his breath hitch.

“If anything happens… That will always be true.”

“I know.” If anything was mentioned about them being executed together, there would likely be rumours. They’d be denied, stating their friendship was purely platonic and professional.

He pulled back from her, bringing his hands up to cup her cheeks. His scarred palms weren’t rough against her skin, they were soft. His smile was sad when he looked at her. Riza’s hands gripped his wrists tightly, nodding at him, only barely, to grant his unspoken request.

Her lips were slowly brought up to his. It was agonising, the anticipation of the kiss. She needed him completely. She needed to commit herself to him just one last time before it all went to hell.

The grip on his wrists tightened, their mouths almost clashing together in their sudden desperation. Roy’s mouth opened and Riza’s quickly followed. Her hands left his wrists, dropping to his hips to jerk his body against hers, making him groan. One of Roy’s hands followed suit on her waist, his fingers digging into her skin, but the other got tangled in her hair. They’d been content to dance together to the music, but after they’d spoken, they couldn’t get close enough to one another. They needed this.

“I love you,” he whispered breathlessly against her lips. “I love you so much and –” he cut his rushed speech off, choking on what he was saying.

“Roy, please,” she pleaded. She could feel her tears building in her throat. She didn’t want to do this now. Right now, she just needed to feel… Needed to feel him. She needed his love. It may have been selfish of her, again, but he suddenly felt like a drug to her. However, she thought that may be the case because she had the knowledge this was going to be their last time together. She’d make it last right through until morning if need be. She wasn’t going to waste any more time with him.

“Later,” she promised. There would be more talking once they’d come down from their emotionally charged desires.

“I’m going to love you like you’ve always deserved, but I could never give,” he promised fiercely. She could see that he meant it in his tear-filled eyes.

She smiled sadly, lifting her hand to cup his cheek. “All I ever needed was you by my side.”

As their lips met, she walked them back towards his bed.

#royai #royai fic #royai fanfic #royai oneshot #ask #anon #writing prompts #fic request #emma writes

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beautifulterriblequeen · 4 years ago

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What if moonshadow elves lost knowledge about themselves?

Hello, hope you have a nice day ! :D

(wait, is it day, for you?) hem! Anyway.

I was analylzing Moonshadow elves again and now I’m asking myself something, wonder what you would think about it:

Remember my “epiphany about the moon arcanum”?, when I said there’s maybe another side of their arcanum Moonshadow elves don’t know about? Something more life-light related:hope.

At first I said “they don’t know about” without really thinking about it. But, what if it’s true? I mean, what if there truly is a part they don’t know about their arcanum, or maybe forgot along the years? What if the war made Moonshadow elves focus so much on death-kill and all they kinda…. lost some of their knowledge about themselves?

(I think I remember one of your old analysis (I think it was you, I can’t find it anymore), where you compared “young ethari” in the endcredits to the actual one. Where we saw him first doing jewelry, full of hope about life, and the actual one who let that aside to focus on the war)

Add to this their community is described as “really close-knit”, which means more or less isolationism and so a stagnant, unable to evolve society. A society where the same rules were applied for centuries and so inevitably lost their deep meaning with time.

I thought it was maybe exaggerated to think this way, but then I remembered the creators said there is 5000years of history in TDP. Even with longer lifespan, there’s no way elves didn’t forget some things with time. (I compare this situation to another one: some discoveries were recently made in egypt, and we learned that a few thousands years ago egyptian themselves re-discovered things they had discovered several centuries prior and forgot)

So I tried to find proof in the show and the novelization, and guess what? We have some! (or, well, it’s more my HC, but as I said, it’ just a theory)

I think this way especially because of Runaan, who was so sure there was “only one way to release”. But then, Zym came and cut Rayla’s ribbon. My personal HC on this is that only the life who was supposed to be avenged can release the assassin from the binding. It would make sense when you know Moonshadow elves “take life but they do not take it lightly”. But even if I’m mistaking, the central fact is that there is more than one way and, clearly, Moonshadow elves don’t know it (if the leader of the assassins doesn’t, then who could?)

What I find interesting here, is that Runaan recites this ritual at the beginning, about how precious life is, like a litany but the way he insists (especially in the novel) about killing Ezran even after he saw the egg, could be the proof it’s just that, a ritual. A ritual whose words lost all their sense, their deep meaning for his people.

Ok, it’s not much, but I think the combination of isolationism, stucking to rules without understanding them deeply and time, is the perfect recipe to lose your way, no?

Oh, and a crazy other point in between these two theories about “hope” and “lost knowledge” woud be: If there is another aspect of the moon, other elves more hope-related (like Ethari or Rayla), why not another form?

Like sunfire elves have heat and light-being mode, Moonshadow elves could have something else too?. It’s probably stupid, I’m only thinking this way because of how Rayla feels while in moonshadow form in the novelization. It’s not that she hates it or something, but it makes her feel dizzy, as if she wasn’t suited for this. And if not, maybe it’s because she’s suited for another form?

(sorry, I hope I’m coherent on this one, I’m a little exhausted and my thoughts are a little messy ^^’)

______________

Okay, @lily-lilou, just let me catch my breath, this whole thing is a ride and I loved it. We definitely vibing here, fam.

whew

Okay, from the top, because I’ve had a lot of these thoughts myself and I’m so stoked to see someone else independently coming up with them!

Yes 100% to Moonshadows losing a part of their own history. (And yeah, I do have a post somewhere on Ethari’s evolution. Probably called it that iirc) If we’re right about Moonshadows having lived in Katolis before the lands were divided, living right near their own Nexus as the Sunfires still do, then when they packed up and left, it’s very possible they literally couldn’t bring everything with them.

I have a quirky little hc that there are still, to this day, Moonshadow villages hiding behind ancient protection spells in Katolis, and that people wander past them every day and have no idea. But it’s one thing not to be able to pack up your actual village. It’s another to leave behind records of your people’s past, their accomplishments and dealings and discoveries.

*eyes Lujanne’s truly massive library, with its huge walls covered in runes and books* This is where the full history of the Moonshadow people probably is kept. And no one has access to it but her.

Those who headed east would only know what they carried with them, and what was handed down orally through the generations. But see, if my headcanon about the Moonshadow assassins being created at that time ends up being true, then that’s probably bad news for history and truth. When you create a whole new class within your culture, you need to bolster it with ideology. You use myth, cultural norms, and current events to make it seem important.

You tell everyone that being an assassin is the most honorable job there is. And then it’s suddenly cool to be an assassin.

If there were no Moonshadow assassins before the humans were booted out west, then everything Runaan says to Rayla, everything he believes, is pretty young compared to his people’s full history, which he may not know, at least in its true and undistorted form. It’s an illusion. Rhetoric. Propaganda meant to hold soft elves who deeply value life to the hardest task they’ll ever undertake: taking that life from another, for a cause they cannot turn away from, a purpose they are culturally indebted to. Because their people, their princess (?), was the one who asked for the humans to be spared, and so every mistake the humans make from that point on is the Moonshadow elves’ duty to handle.

Runaan was wrong about how many ways there are to release. Has Zym truly been the only victim who wasn’t actually dead, in a whole thousand years? Honestly, probably not, knowing how politics works. But see, if you have an elite squad devoted to serving Xadia, and you tell them that their hands will literally fall off and they will die if they don’t do their jobs because there is only one way to release the ribbon they’re honor-bound to wear, they will take their target or die trying. And if you maybe exaggerated reports of the victim’s death for political purposes and actually have them in a dungeon, or they fled to the human lands as a refugee, or any number of other squirrelly options that Moonshadows aren’t naturally inclined to consider, then you can literally get away with murder-by-proxy. Or containment. Or intimidation. Or whatever your purpose is in taking out a human target who may or may not even be guilty of the crime you allege against them. It might not even be Zubeia and Avizandum’s fault. Unless they can detect truth and lies, they can be deceived by someone unscrupulous with an agenda of their own.

Long paragraph long, there are a lot of problems with the existence and practical duties of Moonshadow assassins. They’re kind of like the War Doctor: born form conflict, and thus only able to serve it, instead of peace. Yes, we all want Runaan to get his happy ending, retire, go home to his soft husband. But really, the whole institution of the assassins needs to go. It was born of war, and if Xadia and the human lands make peace, truly, then the assassins should be dissolved. As I said in one of my fics, Moonshadow assassins are Xadia’s dark magic, turning death into power. It’s gotta stop on both sides.

One of my oneshots for January’s Ruthari Week played with the idea of Ethari having a moonform instead of a shadowform, because yes to elves having two kinds of forms in each culture! I would love to see that for all the elves. And if we use Sunfire elves as a kind of roadmap, with “sun” and “fire” being the heat- and light-beings, then maybe the other elves get their two forms from their names as well. Or so my headcanon went for that fic: a moon form to balance the shadow form, where the elf’s body can glow like the full moon. I didn’t really touch on what that form’s ability would be, but I suppose, logically, it would serve as a portable full moon, powering other nearby Moonshadows even when the moon was down, or new, or a small crescent.

Okay, that’s just fun. I like that idea a lot. The only time “just stand there and look pretty” can be used as a battle tactic!

I can see Rayla getting to have the rare Moonshadow power. That would make her a good balance for Callum and his unusual arcanum as a human. Part misfit, part superpower. It would also probably be a power that puts her closer to Ethari’s soft and protective attitude, no matter what the power really is, since the assassins in Moonshadow culture have clearly adopted their natural shadowy form as a mission tactic, attacking specifically on full moon nights. Literally any other kind of power is probably going to be softer, lighter, more lively and bright, in concept if not literally so. Maybe the other power kicks in on new moons? or is available at any time? I really hope we get a second Moonshadow power of some kind. I am down for all the extra worldbuilding!

Thanks once again for your thoughts! *fist bump* Moonshadow elves. You get it.

#asks #tdp speculatoin #tdp headcanons #moonshadow elves #rayla #runaan #callum #submission

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somekindoftuber · 6 years ago

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vld youtuber AU (klance, part 5)

(I apologize if the tense changes all over the place, I’m writing this as a sort of stream-of-consciousness thing because I care more about getting the idea out than writing something that’s grammatically perfect. I’ll probably clean this up and make it an actual fic once it’s all done. Thanks for reading!! :D)

part one | part two | part three | part four

There is a definite shift in Keith’s demeanor after Lance’s last visit.

They play Overwatch a few times a week, and while Keith goes into stern-leader-battle-mode when the game is going, between matches he’s loose, candid. He laughs at Lance’s jokes and makes casual conversation about his job, the garage, tells funny stories about Kosmo. Lance tells Keith stories about the customers he has at the cafe. It’s nice to hear a softness in Keith’s voice that Lance hadn’t heard before.

Keith shows up in nearly all of Lance’s Overwatch videos, even if his mic isn’t recorded. They sort of fall into a rhythm, meeting online every Tuesday and Thursday night to search for servers.

“Y’know,” Keith says one night while they’re in queue. “I wouldn’t have figured you for a sniper type.”

“Eh?” Lance is in his Widowmaker menu at that moment, flipping between two skins to see which one he likes more. “What d’you mean?”

“I don’t mean it in a bad way,” Keith clarifies, and it sounds like he’s smiling. “You just seem like more of a Mercy or a support or something. You’re really…” he pauses. “Generous. Always helping people. Then you get in here and you turn into a cold blooded assassin.”

Lance laughs. “I’ve always played a sniper, though. Gotta have balance somewhere, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They text a lot. It’s all small stuff, like pet photos or memes (which Keith doesn’t understand 90% of the time and Lance finds that kind of adorable). But it’s nice. Occasionally they’ll both have an early shift, and Lance will text Keith photos of the ancient espresso grinder, captioned “this thing wants me dead” surrounded with skull emojis. Keith’s sense of humor, Lance learns, is dry as cracker juice. He gets a photo of a broken rubber floor mat with the question, “what sound does a floor mat make when it splits right before a fitness class?” Before Lance can answer, he gets another photo of the same mat, this time with Keith’s middle finger pointing soundly at it. “That sound,” says the caption. Lance laughs so hard that his boss yells at him for being on his phone during a shift.

August comes to an end, and Pidge prepares for her final term. Lance helps by assisting in an apartment clean out, getting rid of literal clutter to ease Pidge’s impending mental clutter. Lance tries not to think about how this might be their last few months in this apartment together. He’s really enjoyed living with Pidge - he wasn’t exaggerating when he said she was like a sister. Pidge is an extension of his family, ever since they met at space camp all those years ago. She’d been a tiny, fluffy, indomitable ball of pure snark and Lance loved her immediately. Since then, they’d stuck together, seeing each other through some of the hardest times. Lance had cheered his lungs out when Pidge was handed her high school diploma, and in a few months, he’d see her walk across another stage in a cap and gown to receive her bachelor’s degree in Robotic Engineering.

It made him a little misty-eyed to think about it.

Pidge is playing Stardew Valley one afternoon (how the hell did she manage to make such an insanely profitable farm before the end of year one?) when she casually brings up one of Lance’s favorite fall events.

“You gonna go to the Founder’s Fair this year?”

Lance doesn’t even look up from his phone. “Uh, is the Pope catholic?”

“Good.” On the screen, Pidge’s character gives a bouquet to Penny. Dating everyone but marrying no one: the Pidge method. “Hunk is coming in for it.”

“Sweet.”

The Harborville Founder’s Fair was the highlight of every autumn. Right as the summer was fading away and the air was showing a hint of a chill, Oceanside Park would explode into three days of carnival rides, food trucks, fireworks, and everything in between. It was also the best time of year to surf - they didn’t get much in the way of waves here, but there would always be just enough in late September to rent a board. Lance had put in his time off request a month ago, buttering up his boss with the ‘this might be my last September in Harborville’ sob story. Which was sort of true, even if he wasn’t quite ready to face that reality yet.

Lance felt like he was getting closer to Keith. He wasn’t entirely sure if that was the case, but if nothing else, Keith seemed to finally be relaxing around him. There were one or two times when Lance could almost swear Keith was flirting, but he quickly shoved the thought aside. Nope, don’t go there. That’s assuming things. Assuming is dangerous.

The fair is in a week and to make up for missing work on what will be one of the busiest weekends of the year, Lance is working at the cafe nearly every day. He has more steam burns on his hands and wrists from making lattes than ever, and he thinks if he hears the word “pumpkin spice” one more time he might lose it. He hasn’t played Overwatch all week, too tired from extra shifts to do anything other than zone out to Netflix when he gets home.

He’s got two hours left in his Thursday morning shift, then he’s free for the whole weekend. He can practically taste the funnel cakes now - and the Rancho Alegre food truck, the only decent source of Cuban food in the entire state, will be there. God, he’s going to eat until he can’t move.

The morning rush has come and gone and the afternoon crowd isn’t here yet, so Lance is cleaning up the mess of coffee grounds and cinnamon around his work station when the bell on the cafe door sounds. He doesn’t look up as his coworker/supervisor Romelle greets whoever walks through, too preoccupied with wondering how the hell almond milk ended up underneath the grinder.

“Hello,” says the customer and Lance totally knows that voice. He stops wiping sour milk and looks up.

It’s Shiro. And right behind him is Allura and - oh shit. It’s Keith. He’s here, he’s here in the cafe and Lance had no idea he was coming and he probably looks like shit, overworked with bags under his eyes and his face breaking out from stress and he didn’t even shampoo his hair this morning because he was running late --

But then Keith smiles at him and wow. His hair is down and he’s wearing this black and red leather jacket and it should be illegal to look that good. Especially when Lance is such a mess.

“Hi,” Lance says, hating how his voice cracks. “What are you guys doing in town?”

Shiro is pulling out his wallet with his left hand. “We came for the fair. It was always one of my favorite things about going to school here.”

“Oh,” Lance squeaks.

They’re here for the fair. Lance might get to spend time at the fair with Keith. He forces himself to focus on the present before a dozen fantasies of ferris wheel rides and sharing cotton candy can take over his brain.

They all order drinks and Lance claims them before Romelle can even finish ringing them up. Shiro gets a hazelnut americano, Allura orders a tuxedo mocha, and Keith shyly asks for a latte. Lance can tell he doesn’t go to coffee shops often and makes the drinks carefully. He can’t embellish Shiro’s americano, but he uses chocolate sauce and extra foam to draw a bow tie in Allura’s mug. For Keith’s latte, he sends a prayer to the coffee gods to grant him latte art prowess. It works, and Lance is rounding out rings of coffee and foam, pulling through to form a perfect heart.

He slides the mug across the counter to Keith, who’s eyebrow shoot into his hair. He breaths a little “wow” and blushes, taking the mug and smiling. He’s wearing fingerless leather gloves. Lance’s heart flip-flops in his chest.

The three of them find a table near the window and sit, chatting and drinking their coffee. They’re too far away for Lance to hear what they’re saying, and even if he could, he’s on the clock, and the lunchtime regulars are starting to trickle in.

Would it be gauche to text his evening shift coworker and bribe him to come in early so Lance can leave?

Lance thinks Romelle can tell he’s pouting by the way she sides up to him.

“Hey,” she whispers. “Is that the guy?”

He follows her gaze and sees that it lands firmly on the table where Keith is sitting with Shiro and Allura. Keith looks up at Lance, and smiles a little before turning back to his brother.

“Yeah,” Lance whispers back, feeling his face heat up. “The one with the long hair.”

Romelle lets out a low whistle. “Quite the catch,” she says, waggling her eyebrows. “What about the girl they’re with?”

“Allura?” Lance thinks. “I don’t know her very well, but she’s nice.”

“She single?”

Lance rolls his eyes and starts on the next drink. “No idea, you should ask her.”

It’s slower today and Lance is thankful for it. With Keith in the room, he can’t focus on anything - it’s a miracle he doesn’t catastrophically screw up the drinks he’s making. There’s a break in customers and Romelle comes over to Lance where he loading a portafilter with espresso and waves her phone.

“I’ll make you a deal,” she says, and he does not like that voice. That’s her Supervisor Voice. “I’ll call Ryan in an hour early if you get me Cute Girl’s number.”

Lance puts the tamp down. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

He looks over at the table where Keith is sitting. They’ve all finished their drinks and will probably be leaving soon.

“Romelle,” Lance states. “You are an evil super villain and I love you. Consider that number yours.”

Fifteen minutes later, Ryan Kinkade is walking in and he doesn’t look particularly thrilled about it. Lance takes off his apron and motions at the jar of cash by the register.

“Ryan, you’re a lifesaver and my tips are yours. Thank you!” Lance clocks out before anyone can argue and walks over to where Keith and Co are sitting. He’s very much aware of how he probably reeks of coffee and looks like garbage but does his best to smile anyway.

“My shift is over, did you guys have any plans?”

Shiro smiles and stands. “I think we were going to head to our Air B&B and check in, actually. We could use a breather after that drive. We can meet up for dinner later, if you want.”

Inwardly, Lance lets out a sigh of relief because this means he’ll have time to take a shower and make himself presentable. “That sounds good! Any place you want to go?”

Shiro shrugs. “Is Vinnie’s still open?”

Lance lights up. “Oh yeah, still as good as ever, too! Want to meet there at, uh - “ He checks his phone, it’s barely 3pm. “Around five? We should beat most of the dinner rush that way.”

They all nod and the plans are made. They walk outside together and Lance watches the three of them get into a very nice Chrysler sedan - maybe Allura’s, given how she goes for the driver’s seat. Once they’re gone, Lance heads for his car and books it home. He immediately washes and exfoliates his face, then applies an anti-inflammatory mask and works at cleaning up the apartment. It was already fairly clean since Hunk will be crashing on the pull-out sofa bed for the weekend, and he has no idea of Keith will ever even see this place, but Lance doesn’t want to take any risks.

He shoots Pidge a text to tell her about their plans in case she wants to join. Hunk isn’t due until tomorrow morning.

Apartment clean(er) and his face mask dry and itchy, Lance hops in the shower and scrubs himself sore. Keith is here and will be spending the weekend here and Lance is equal parts ecstatic and terrified. He meticulously goes through his whole grooming routine, moisturizes, swabs, trims his eyebrows, even files his nails. He checks his reflection once he’s done and thankfully his face is less red, the stress acne barely noticeable.

There’s still about 45 minutes until he needs to be at Vinnie’s so Lance takes his time picking out clothes. He settles for a low cut tank top that shows off his collarbones and a beige button down over it with the sleeves rolled up, finishing it off with a pendant necklace and grey skinny jeans. He examines himself in the mirror and frowns a little. Does it look too much like date clothes?

He doesn’t have time to change because then his phone pings and it’s Shiro, saying they’re heading to Vinnie’s a little early. Lance all but throws himself out the door.

Vinnie’s is starting to get crowded, Lance can already see the line forming when he parks. He spots Shiro and Allura easily, their white hair making them stand out. They’d managed to claim a patio table - no small feat - and were chatting happily.

Lance joins them and it’s amazing how welcome he feels in this group, the way Shiro half-pulls a chair out for Lance. Keith is sitting to his right, his jacket draped over the back of his chair, the black t-shirt he wore stretching nicely over his chest. And if he didn’t know any better, Lance could swear he saw Keith’s eyes sweep down his neck and linger.

They ate and laughed and ate more, drinking fancy gourmet sodas. They make loose plans for the weekend - beach tomorrow, then the fair on Saturday, and maybe brunch before they leave on Sunday. Lance educates Keith in the ways of the garlic knot, the most sacred food item on earth. And when Keith shrugs and says they’re “alright,” Lance feigns offense, gasping and clutching his chest.

Pidge joins them later, looking utterly spent from a long day of classes. Lance gives up his seat so she can collapse into it. He kneels beside the table instead, passing Pidge the last of their pizza and appetizers. Keith gives him a look, then scoots over to one side of his chair, patting the other with his hand.

Lance short circuits, looking from the empty side of the chair to Keith’s face several times.

Keith rolls his eyes. “Get up here. That,” he points to where Lance is kneeling, “Is super bad for your knees.”

“Oh?” Lance slides into place, and it’s sort of uncomfortable with half of his ass hanging off the chair, but he can feel heat pouring off Keith’s body with how close he is. “You care much about my knees?”

Keith goes super red. “I’m a physical trainer,” He said, suddenly very interested in his soda. “It’s my job to care. Doing stuff like that will ruin them.”

“Right.”

Lance glances over at Pidge, who had a garlic knot halfway to her mouth and giving Lance the most predatory grin. He glares at her to shut down whatever evil plans she might be formulating.

They finally finish the food and decide to stop taking up a table, bussing it themselves to save the staff some work. Instead of a bar, they decide to head over to Lance and Pidge’s apartment to chill - half because Pidge isn’t 21 yet and wouldn’t be able to join them at most of the bars in town, and half because Vinnie’s was so loud that they’re all craving some quiet.

Lance is so thankful that his past self had the sense to clean a little more. They all sprawl out over the living room, Lance going to pull a chair from the kitchen to sit on so the guests can have the nice couch and Pidge can curl up in the easy chair. Lance offers up the ice cream sandwiches from the freezer and everyone takes one; Allura seems to be examining hers with great interest, like she’s never had one before.

Shiro talks a lot, mostly about what Harborville was like when he and Matt were in college. About their first apartment that should probably have been condemned, the dogs he’d walk between classes for extra cash. Eventually Lance’s cats come out of hiding to investigate, and Keith goes starry-eyed at Batou’s big green eyes and plush grey coat.

Pidge falls asleep in her chair just after nine. Everyone takes a second to coo at how cute she is before Lance bends down to scoop her up.

“Lemme put sleeping beauty here to bed. If she stays there she’ll be sore and cranky when she wakes up.”

He takes Pidge to her room and sets her on her bed, then wrestles her sneakers off her feet, setting her glasses on the bedside table and draping a sheet over her. When he goes back into the living room and sits in the chair he’d removed Pidge from, Allura gives him a fond look.

“You’re very sweet to her.”

Lance shrugs. “She’s pretty much family. Also, I have to do that all the time. I’ve found her face down on her homework out here more times than I want to count.”

They talk for another two hours. Lance feels a little lonely with Keith sitting on the side of the couch furthest from him, but then again, if he was closer, Lance isn’t sure his brain would work. Allura yawns wide.

“I think it’s time we turned in,” she states. “I’d like to get some rest before the weekend starts.”

Shiro agrees. Lance ends up seeing them off in the parking lot, waving as they drive away.

Hunk arrives just after 10am the next morning, armed with bags of groceries to pack a picnic for the beach. He puts Lance and Pidge on an assembly line in the kitchen, making pork sandwiches, vegetable rolls, hummus wraps, crab and radish tartines, potato salad, and chocolate-dipped clementine slices. He’d picked up a package of Lance’s favorite lemon cream cookies and Lance could almost kiss him for it.

With their precious picnic food carefully packed in an ice chest along with plenty of drinks, Lance shot a group text to Keith, Shiro, and Allura to ask if they were ready for the beach. He got confirmation quickly, and they agreed to hit the north shore near the lighthouse, where the sand was rougher but the tourists tended to be a little thinner.

Parking is a bitch but they find a spot, then wait by the trunk for Keith and Co to arrive. About ten minutes later Lance sees Allura’s Chrysler pull in to a spot. They walk over to meet them and Lance is practically bouncing, because 1) he gets to go to the beach, 2) he gets to go surfing with Hunk, 3) he gets to spend time with new friends, and 4) Keith is here. Everyone is in shorts and light shirts, Allura has this big floppy sun hat that is absolutely precious on her, and Keith’s face is shiny with sunscreen. Lance bets that fair skin of his will still be red by the end of the day.

They find a spot that’s decently clear and set up. Hunk, Keith, and Lance tackle the portable canopy that will hopefully keep them all from becoming completely sunburned while Allura and Pidge set out the sand blanket and arrange their stuff to keep the wind from blowing it away. Once they’re settled, the ice chest is opened and sodas and juice are passed around. The wind is strong today but not enough to be a problem for their canopy, and the waves are large and plentiful. Lance eyes the surfboard rental shack a quarter mile down the beach.

Once they’ve had enough of snacking and chatting, Lance gives Hunk fingerguns and they almost take off down the beach together, making a beeline for the surfboards. Rolo is working it as usual and after some searching they find the perfect boards and duck into the changing tent to get into their springsuits. Lance has the white and blue suit up over his hips and was about to pull it the rest of the way on when he remembers that Keith is sitting out there. Ever since Lance learned he was a Crossfit trainer, he’d started running and working out again. He wasn’t in as good a shape as he was when he’d been swimming competitively, but thanks to months of regular exercise, he at least sort of looked the part again. And maybe he wanted to show off a little. So Lance left the top of his springsuit open and hanging from his hips as they went back to the group with their boards.

“Showoff,” Hunk accused while they were still out of earshot of everyone else.

Lance subtly flexed his chest. “So? I worked hard for this.”

When they got back to the canopy, Lance did his best to act nonchalant as he set his board aside and started pulling his springsuit up over his chest. Keith was definitely looking at him. Mission accomplished.

His flirty nature satisfied, it was time to surf. Lance missed this so much, the first step into the ocean water was like heaven. He and Hunk paddled out until the water was smooth, then sat on their boards and waited. They didn’t have to wait long, Hunk caught the first good wave that came their way, riding it out and away. Lance caught the next one, and it was a crazy high. It just felt so good, cutting through the water with his board, turning, riding through tunnels of blue-green. The waves tossed him, wrecked him, dragged his body against the sand below. But every time, Lance would surface, shake it off, and paddle out for another go.

His legs finally started to shake, so Lance hauled his board back to the shore. Hunk was already sitting under the canopy again, changed out of his springsuit and sipping on a juice box.

“I was gonna give you ten more minutes before I dragged you out of the water,” Hunk said.

Lance didn’t reply, chest heaving as he caught his breath. His board hits the sand and he all but collapses onto the sand sheet, his ears ringing.

A water bottle appeared in his periphery. Lance looked up enough to trace the hand that held it back to Keith, who was wearing this cute little smile. Lance smiled back and took the bottle, downing half of it in one gulp.

Pidge starts pulling out food and Lance blindly eats whatever is handed to him, too exhausted to care what it is. It’s all delicious but with how many calories he burned surfing, he could probably be eating stale saltines and they’d taste like a delicacy. He leans back on the sand sheet and basks in the post-surf euphoria.

Lance notices everyone starting to get up. Allura is holding several frisbees with a gleam in her eye, and most of the group is rising to join her. Keith stands and, after fiddling with the collar of his shirt for a second, reaches back and pulls it over his head, letting it drop to the ground.

Lance is instantly awake because holy shit. Keith is ripped. He’s all tight skin and perfect muscles and - oh.

He’d been wrong when he’d assumed Keith’s tattoo was a wolf. It’s actually a lion, roaring fiercely, emblazoned in dark red ink over his left hip.

Keith takes a hair tie off his wrist and uses it to pull his hair up high on the back of his head. He shoots Lance a loaded glance before walking out into the sun to join everyone else for a game of frisbee tag. Lance memorizes the muscles of his back as he goes.

“Good god, you’re so loud.”

Lance sits up and turns to see Pidge, sitting in the center of the sand sheet in her shorts and green rash guard, with her phone in one hand and a cookie in the other.

“I didn’t say anything!” Lance protests. Pidge just cocks an eyebrow at him.

“Not with words, anyway.”

Lance frowns, then dares to look back out at his friends, finding Keith and tracking his movements across the beach.

They empty the ice chest of food and drink and, after several more hours of beach fun, they decide to pack it in and head out. Lance is going to remember this day for the rest of his life - the image of Keith glistening wet as he walked out of the ocean had finally taught Lance the meaning of the phrase “looks good enough to eat.”

Lance is so, so tired. Surfing wore him out but he still played a round of beach volleyball after that, and then swam some more. He’s going to be so sore tomorrow. He drives himself, Hunk, and Pidge back to their apartments to shower and change before they head over to the Air B&B where Shiro, Keith, and Allura are staying. Lance decides on a regular shirt and his favorite jeans, only bothering to put a single layer of moisturizer on his face.

The Air B&B turns out to be a whole house, with a yard and a little deck where they all gather around faded patio furniture as Shiro hands out beers. He gives Pidge a look as she takes one for herself.

“What?” She says as she twists off the top of the bottle. “I’m gonna be 21 in a few months, I’m in safe company, and I’m not driving.”

Shiro just sighs and sits down.

They talk and laugh for hours. Pidge only has one beer before switching to sweet tea, and Lance is a little relieved. He has no idea what drunk Pidge would be like and he’d rather not find out this weekend - he would be cash money that she’d be ornery as hell. Hunk orders some delivery from their favorite noodle place when Lance isn’t paying attention. Keith looks happy as a kid on Christmas with a giant bowl of pho in front of him, and Lance learns that Vietnamese food is his favorite.

They move inside once the sun goes down to keep from bothering the neighbors. Lance settles into a corner of the faded couch, and is too tired to panic when Keith sits next to him. Hunk launches into a story about his last term at school when he almost blew the breaker for the entire engineering building and Lance tries to pay attention, but he’s worn out and Keith is radiating heat like a furnace. Combine that with his full stomach and a couple of beers and he’s so, so sleepy.

Someone is calling his name and Lance inhales sharply, eyes fluttering open. It was Hunk, who’s smiling at him from across the coffee table. Lance is leaning on something warm and solid. He rubs his eyes and looks up.

He was leaning on Keith.

Lance’s eyes bug out but Keith just looks down at him with this tiny smile and a blush on his cheeks. Lance suddenly feels like the room is a million degrees as he carefully sits up.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to pass out.”

Keith laughs softly. “It’s fine.”

They all start to wrap up their stories and conversations. Lance doesn’t know what time it is but it feels late, and since they want to hit the fair tomorrow, they should all get some sleep. Hunk offers to drive home and Lance hands him the keys as Keith, Shiro, and Allura wave goodbye from the front porch.

He almost falls asleep again in the ten minutes it takes Hunk to drive them back to their apartment. Lance helps set up the pull-out sofa, then goes to brush his teeth. He’s practically nodding off at the bathroom sink when Pidge comes up to him and pulls out her phone.

“Thought you should see this,” she says, holding it up.

On the screen is a photo of Keith, and, with his head resting on Keith’s shoulder dead asleep, Lance. Keith is looking down at him and definitely blushing.

The toothbrush stills in Lance’s mouth as he swipes the phone from Pidge’s hand, using his thumbs to pull and zoom. Keith was smiling.

“Please send this to me immediately,” Lance tells her, words muffled from the toothbrush still hanging from between his teeth.

He’s in bed setting his alarm when he gets the text from Pidge with the photo attached. And if Lance hugs a pillow and kicks his feet a little at the sight, who could blame him?

Continued in part 6!

#youtuber au #text #klance

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myfriendscallmecoelophysis · 5 years ago

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The Fears of a Goddess Pt 3

Part 3 of my Dark! Ianite fic

Part 1

Part 2

Part 4

(Note, slight tw: self-harm (Blood Magic) and body horror (Taint Abomination related) (just a smidge of both))

Enjoy and as always

Find me on Ao3:

Selenejessabelle12626 for the tame stuff

Lady-Spieroles for the less tame stuff ;)

Potions of healing were objectively the worst tasting potions in Jordan’s experience. Potions already did not taste great, no matter what their effects were. But something about the combination of nether wart and glistering melon was just absolutely awful. Not to mention the chalkey texture that glowstone and redstone dust added to stronger or longer lasting potions. It’s why he preferred splash potions despite their slight weakness, he didn’t have to taste them that way. He tipped the potion back anyway, doing his best to ignore the flavor.

He felt better immediately, it was a strong potion, stronger than he was probably capable of brewing. Usually even instant health potions left you with a lingering ache from your injury. But this didn’t even leave him with that, the perks of getting it from a Goddess he supposed. His vision cleared entirely to the view of Ianite looking down at him with worry in her eyes. “I’m fine.” He promised, answering her silent question.

“That didn’t go well.” He sighed sitting down on a nearby hill. He needed a moment to calm and collect his thoughts.

“It could have gone worse.” She said, sitting next to him. “But we can’t rest long unfortunately. I can sense my brothers searching for me, they’ve entered the End.” Jordan stood with some reluctance but stood nonetheless, nodding his agreement.

She teleported them away, then again and again before he even got a chance to get his bearings at each stop. It made him somewhat nauseous but he said nothing, holding her hand until she let go of his. When she finally did, it was after half a dozen teleportation jumps, enough to give him mental whiplash.

“My apologies.” She said with a wry smile, seeing the way he had to ground himself when they stopped. “I was attempting to create a false trail in the event that my brothers tried to follow, but I forgot that such jumps were taxing on mortals.”

“I just need a moment, I’ll be fine.” He claimed in between deep breaths. When his head had stopped spinning he opened his eyes, widening them at what he saw.

It was an enormous temple facade made of carved obsidian built into the side of a mountain. Instead of grass and stone, the mountainside was covered in the sickly lavender gray of mycelium while cracked stone bricks spread out from the facade in an uneven pattern, as if the temple had originally been made of stone but had warped to what it was now. Ianite was halfway to it already, either unaware or uncaring of the foreboding sensation that radiated through the air.

Jordan was suddenly reminded of the end of Ruxomar and the battle with its World Historian. That had been the hardest battle he’d ever fought and that was with the support of all of the others including Waglington and Martha and Mot, all of them wielding weapons far stronger than what was even possible in this world. All he could hope was that in this world, if it came to a fight, World Historian was as limited as he was. He drew his bow and jogged to catch up with Ianite.

She didn’t turn to look at him as she began to climb the steps leading to the temple but he fell into step beside her anyway. This was the moment she’d been waiting for her whole life, the moment that would change her fate. The feeling of foreboding only increased as they got closer to the temple entrance, the setting of the sun behind them certainly didn’t help matters. The fading light caused the obsidian to reflect and shimmer with a subtle purple hue, and now, closer, Jordan could see the material had been carved to resemble bricks. Unless, instead, the obsidian had taken over what had once been a temple of stone brick at the will of some unseen force, covering over the stone.

The doorway was recessed several meters within and as they entered darkness fell ominously. There were no torches or lanterns to light the way at first but before he could take one out, Ianite raised a hand illuminated with magic, casting an eerie purple glow all around them. Where there would be a doorway was blocked off by what almost appeared to be carved bedrock. Ianite waved her hand but nothing happened. She paused, repeated the motion again to no avail.

Jordan stepped back to look around further, lighting a torch of his own despite the glow of her magic. That was when he noticed the floor was carved with oddly familiar symbols.

“What is this Tucker?”

“Oh it’s just my Blood Altar. Got some different runes, sacrifice, augmented capacity and all that fun stuff.”

“Blood Altar?”

“Yeah, you do tech, I do Blood Magic.”

“These are Blood Magic runes.” Jordan said, aiming his torch to see them closer.

“Blood Magic? I’ve never heard of such a thing.” Ianite commented, turning away to see what he was talking about.

“It was a school of magic in Ruxomar, you gave blood in return for magical abilities. It wasn’t my focus, but I dabbled in it for a short time because some of the spells were beneficial. If I remember, these are runes of self-sacrifice.” There was a slight expression of surprise on her face when he explained. He’d reacted similarly when he’d first looked into it. It was borderline dark magic due to its source but the benefits had outweighed the risks then and apparently the knowledge was paying off now.

“Self-Sacrifice? As in…?”

“Your own blood, not that of an animal or monster.”

“Gods do not bleed though.” Her brows had furrowed in confusion.

“But mortals do. The prophecy said you would need a mortal hero to help you reach your full potential, this was possibly a reason why.” They’d not yet figured exactly why his help had been necessary, until this point she could have done everything else on her own, he’d just helped expedite the research. But this was clearly something only he could help with. He drew a standard arrow from his quiver, rolling it between his fingers.

Ianite was frowning but said nothing as he used the arrowhead to slice a neat cut on his palm. The blood that welled up evaporated painlessly into strange red smoke. Moments later the sound of grinding echoed throughout the temple entryway, the bedrock parting. Both of them looked to it and then back to each other.

Now that the doors were open, the foreboding feeling had increased tenfold, enough to make Jordan feel somewhat sick to his stomach. Ianite however, seemed unaffected. They entered the temple, though the moment he stepped over the threshold he nearly stumbled from the wave of nausea that overtook him.

“Sparklez?”

“I’m fine.” He assured, blinking away the way his vision suddenly swam.

She narrowed her eyes, peering at him suspiciously. “It’s the temple. Mortals were not meant to tread these halls.” She concluded, putting her hand on his shoulder and turning him back towards the entrance. “Wait for me outside.”

“But My Lady, what if”

“That’s an order. You will wait for me outside.” There was a pressure on his mind, a powerful divine feeling. It was familiar enough that he knew she was the culprit but he wasn’t sure exactly what it was that she was doing. With a hefty sigh he nodded, relenting.

“Good. Stand watch. Let no one enter. Can you do that?” He was sure she didn’t mean to sound condescending, she was obviously just worried.

“Yes milady.” She squeezed his shoulder but said not another word, reassuring or otherwise.

The sun had disappeared on the horizon when he exited the temple, the sky barely held any color now, just the faintest hint of orange. Behind him the temple seemed somehow more haunting, the scant light casting intimidating shadows. He’d be mostly useless once the sun set, there was no full moon tonight to give off any sort of illumination. So despite knowing it would make his location obvious, Jordan lit a lantern and fastened it to his belt opposite his sword sheath. Ianite was right, it was not a question of if someone was coming, it was when and who? She’d said that Mianite and Dianite had been tracking her and that had been before she and Jordan had entered the temple, in all likelihood, it would be the Gods who would arrive. That was the more worrying option. Jordan, while a skilled fighter, was no match for one God, let alone two. He almost rather they send Tom or Karl, because at least he’d have a chance. But then, he did have a chance didn’t he?

Jordan glanced back at his quiver, the tainted arrow sat next to a small bundle of poisoned arrows, hardly looking dangerous at all aside from the strange and venomous color. It wouldn’t kill a God but it would cripple them. But could he really bring himself to use it? Could he really be the one to debilitate a God? On the other hand though, could he kill Tom or Karl with it? He’d killed them both in this life and in Tom’s case, the others. But that had been with the knowledge that they would come back no worse for wear. He himself had died dozens of times. If he struck them with this arrow, they would not return. Period, end of story. It was true and actual murder on a level he’d never even considered before this. True Karl would not meet Tucker or Sonja or Wag anyway, but Jordan and Tom hadn’t thought it would be because he was dead for good.

A sound in the distance caught his attention, like the sound of an enderman’s teleport and the crack of a pickaxe on stone. A half second later, he heard it again. Then came the mental pressure once more, though this time it was not Ianite, which could only mean it was one of her brothers. With gritted teeth, Jordan nocked the tainted arrow in his bow but did not yet draw.

He could feel his heartbeat pounding in his ears, unable to do anything but wait till either God stepped into the light. He was suddenly hyper aware of every inhale and exhale, of the sound of the wind whistling past, of the groan and growl of mobs in the surrounding hills.

“Sparklez” Jordan drew back his bowstring in an instant as Mianite’s voice echoed in his ears. He did his best to calm his breath but it was practically useless, his mind and heart were racing in anticipation for a fight.

“Captain, stand down.” Dianite ordered and Jordan was quick to aim towards where the voice had come from. There was a power to both of their tones that he’d never heard before, an otherworldly aspect that some part of him knew marked them as higher beings despite never having been told.

“We do not wish to bring you harm.” Mianite added and once more Jordan shifted his aim. He’d yet to see either God, both speaking to him from the darkness outside his lanterns range.

“You’re involved with something far beyond you boyo” The use of the nickname from Dianite dragged forth memories of Dianite in Ruxomar, the merchant God who’d been wrongly murdered. He’d been a victim in that world, as Ianite would be in this one. Had Tom not told him of Ruxomar and what had happened there? And Mianite, how could he possibly become the gentle and good hearted God that Tucker would worship when he was willing to let his own Sister wither away in a prison cell?

“I don’t think I am. I think I am exactly where I am supposed to be.” Jordan fired back, finally finding his voice. He sounded so much smaller than them, so weak compared to them, so very, mortal. “You’re both just scared of a future where Ianite is the strongest of you three!”

It was Dianite who stepped into the light first, hands raised placatingly. Jordan turned to him anyway, amethyst arrowhead glinting dangerously in the flickering lantern light. “You don’t understand what’s happening here Captain. This is not what our Mother intended. This place was not meant for any of us to find.” Mianite stepped out of the darkness a half step behind his brother, his hands, while not raised, were still in a position meant to convey a lack of weapons.

“I don’t care. The prophecy doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I keep her safe and out of both of your hands.”

“Sparklez,” Mianite spoke once more. “The strength that Ianite may or may not find within that temple will not be the thing that seals nor prevents her fate. There is a force far greater than any of us that has tricked Ianite in the same way it would trick Dianite or myself. You were right, the spell was written by our Father, who you know as World Historian, but unlike you or I or any of the others, he is one being across all dimensions. There is no alternate version of him that does not wish ruin upon all planes of existence.”

“It’s true Captain.” Dianite agreed before Jordan could say anything. “The research you and Ianite did confirms such a thing, you just didn’t want to see it. The Shadows and Darkness that have been plaguing us all is our Father. His book, the spell Ianite is after, will give her strength beyond comprehension but will corrupt so absolutely that she will no longer be the Goddess any of us know.”

Jordan did not have the words to reply. He didn’t want to believe them. He wanted to believe that this was a ruse to get past his guard and get to Ianite. He wanted to believe that they were the ones who were delusional. But he had been the one to hear Kikoku Botan, the Father of Ianite, Dianite and Mianite, the one who called himself the Shadows and World Historian, in Ruxomar. He’d seen what had happened to the Ianite of that world and what she’d been forced to do. He knew, deep down within him, that World Historian was the true villain in this all and had always been. He knew that the Gods before him were right and that Ianite was making a terrible mistake.

So, as much as it pained him to do so, as large a blow to his honor and sense of loyalty it was, Jordan lowered his bow.

Before either God could take another step, the temple exploded outward in a burst of sinister noxious energy. Jordan was thrown forward to the ground, chunks of stone and obsidian rained down around him, dust filling the air. He coughed as he struggled back to his feet, trying to expel the particles from his lungs. Finally the dust settled enough that he could see what had happened.

At first he did not understand what he was seeing. The temple had been built into a mountain but there was no longer a mountain. Instead a vast inky darkness stretched into the sky, blotting out the stars entirely, though something about the shape was oddly familiar. His lantern was not strong enough to illuminate what the darkness was, but the closer he looked at the shape against the stars, Jordan realized that it was moving. The stretches of darkness wriggled and writhed like massive tentacles of some ancient beast, and that was the moment when it clicked in his head.

“Ianite?” Her name was little more than a whispered plea on his lips as he fell to his knees with his eyes wide in fear. Because in the temples place, was the immense and terrifying form of the Taint Abomination.

Ianite could see the discomfort on her Champion’s face the moment they entered the temple. She’d wondered if there might be some sort of safeguard against mortals, such a thing was certainly not outside the realm of possibility. But still he pressed on, keeping in step with her as they went further, voicing no complaint no matter how ill at ease he may feel. Loyalty to her goal over his own safety, he really was admirable in his devotion. She would allow him to remain on this path with her until his condition became an impediment, then she’d send him to stand guard and perhaps delay her brothers.

The usage of another world’s magic, one that was arguably dark magic, was somewhat surprising. Not as surprising as the fact that her Captain had experience with it, enough to be able to recognize the runes on sight and know exactly how to utilize them. He hardly hesitated once he realized what needed to be done. She didn’t question him, watching silently as he activated the runes. The door grinding open was proof enough that he’d not been mistaken. Unfortunately, that was the last time he would be a greater help than hindrance. The ill pallor of his skin had only deepened, his eyes unfocused as he tried to fight off whatever infliction had fallen over him. It was when he stumbled on the threshold that she made the decision.

She was not surprised when he argued to stay beside her. There was a chance that something further might require his assistance or his knowledge, but how likely could that be considering how badly he was reacting? So she risked a mental suggestion, exerting a slight pressure to push him to agree. It wasn’t something she did often, particularly with him, but right now, she needed him to actually listen. He agreed, reluctantly, but agreed, turning back towards the entryway of the temple and leaving her alone in the darkness.

It was much quieter without him here. She’d gotten used to all the soft, mortal sounds he made after all the time they’d spent together in the last weeks. She was used to hearing a second set of footsteps, the soft clanking of his armor, the whisper of arrow fletchings brushing against one another in a quiver. She suddenly felt very alone. But it was that loneliness that drove her to take a step forward, then another and another. If she turned back now she would face a millenia alone.

The temple interior was filled with towering columns of obsidian, tall enough that she could not see the ceiling they held up. She cast out her magic to attempt to illuminate the space further but there was something about this darkness that seemed to swallow the light whole. She should have asked Sparklez for a torch or lantern so that she could conserve her magic, but seeing the way these shadows behaved she wasn’t sure it would have had any effect.

“My Daughterrrrr” a voice hissed from the gloom “you have returnnnned.”

The light of her magic deepened in hue, a more offensive intent coming forth instinctively. “Yesssss, you have grown strongerrrrrr”

“End this game Father.” She ordered, she would not back down from this attempt at intimidation, not after she had come this far. The answer she received was a grating noise, like a crude and twisted imitation of a laugh.

“You are stronger indeeeed. Verrryyy wellll.” The darkness parted, revealing an altar and beyond it, a room. He did not leave her as she ventured ever deeper, whispering praises in that strange cadence and tone. She didn’t know if the reason behind this change was time or the fact that this was not a vision. He’d spoken normally in that long ago vision and appeared normally enough, at least he’d had a form instead of now where he was a shapeless darkness.

She did not reply to his honeyed words, keeping her focus on the room past the altar. The altar itself was a sickly color, like decaying plant matter, with stains that reminded her too closely of the rich color that had come from her Champions hand. The thought of lives lost on this altar made her stomach roil, especially that of her own Champion.

“You were right to send him awayyyyyy.” The Shadow spoke in one ear. “I might have been inclineedddd to askkkkk for a sacraficeeeeee.” He said in the other.

“You have done him enough harm!” She snapped, turning towards the voice in an instant. She’d not told the Captain in fear of him turning against her, but she knew that this creature, her father, the ‘World Historian’ was the same entity that her Champion had faced in that other world. It was no alternate or variation, it was the same being that had killed her in that world along with Dianite. Sparklez would never have agreed to follow her here, let alone leave her if he knew she was facing that once more.

The temple echoed with the aberrant laughter. “Soooo protectiveee. Are you frightened for himmm, my daughterrrr? Frighteneddd forrr what your brothersssss will do to himmmm? Youuuu shoulddd be more afraid of what youuuuuu will do to himmmmm.”

“Enough!” She snarled only to realize the voice had fallen silent.

She’d reached the room beyond the altar, eyes falling upon the crumbling desk. His voice had left her, as had all other sounds once again. The book she’d seen so long ago sat innocently on the center of the desk, dust free despite the thick layer that caked the rest of the ancient looking wood. The stump remains of a candle sat beneath the wax melter on one corner of the desk, while on the other corner was a pot of ink, long dried and quill lacking all its feather. The entire sign was a picture of decrepit age, except for the book itself.

Slowly, Ianite stepped forward, her heart beating heavily in her chest. Her focus was on nothing but the book. Not the eerie temple behind her nor the touch of her brothers in the periphery of her mind. Only this. All these years of waiting and biding her time. All these weeks upon months of research. The lies and manipulations she’d spun. All of it was coming to fruition now. Everything she had worked for had finally been rewarded.

A surge of power filled her when she picked it up, the strength of the very void itself pouring through her veins. Yes. This was the final moment. She’d won. She would not let the prophecy come to be. She would not see the inside of that gilded crystal prison. She would be free.

The seal melted away at her touch, sizzling and bubbling into liquid. Each droplet that fell seared acidically through the floor and into the earth below but the book remained unharmed. When she opened the book, it was directly to the page with the spell written upon it. She recognized the script from the vision, the curling, almost decorative way the letters spilled across the page.

Steeling herself, Ianite began to read it out loud, reciting the ancient spell in the tongue of the Gods. With each word she felt her strength grow, further and further, stronger and stronger. She would be unstoppable. She would be invincible. No being, God or Mortal would be capable of imprisoning her now. As the last word spilled from her lips, Ianite felt the truest most pure sense of elation. Then the pain began.

She screamed. Tears ran down her cheeks and she fell to her knees, body crumpling under the agony sparking through her. She could do nothing but scream. Knew nothing but pain. All the strength had warped into grotesque torment. The last thing she saw before her awareness left her was her very flesh bubbling away in toxic violet smoke.

#miante #Mianite fanfiction #ianite #dark!Ianite #Captain Sparklez #dianite #mianitian isles #shadows #references to s2 #tw: self harm #tw: body horror #Slight for both #my writing #words words words

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theartofbeinganeldar · 5 years ago

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The Art of Being an Eldar: Legolas x Reader Chapter 4

Summary: After discovering that you were stuck in the fantasy world you had no recollection of, your memory was jogged after weeks of depression: this land was Middle-Earth. A council of wizards and Elves was summoned, and Thranduil expressed his wishes of wanting you gone. Elrond agreed to take you in and Gandalf was excited to share in his adventures with someone who knew nothing of the world, quite like a Hobbit, but you wanted to stay in Mirkwood, with Legolas and Tauriel, of which you'd made friends with. Legolas leaves in three days to locate the orcs who enroach upon Mirkwood's northern flank, and the council sees this as a chance for you to prove your worth. If you fail, you are to leave Mirkwood...

Chapter No.: Chapter 4

Key: [Y/N]=Your Name [F/N]= Friend's Name [B/N]= Bro's Name [S/N]= Sis's Name [M/N]= Mom's Name [e/c]= eye color [h/c]= hair color [s/c]= skin color

Notes: I want to thank all my readers for their feedback, likes, and reblogs! I'm only on Chapter 4 and all of you combined have made me feel really good about my writing. I've gotta admit, I was a little scared of going through with this multi-chapter fic at first, because while a few people really liked and enjoyed my stories on DeviantArt, they never got the reception The Art of Being an Eldar has. I just thought my writing sucked for the most part. Thank you all so much!

Warnings: Fluff, angst, graphic depictions of gore and violence (Cuz of orc battles y'know?), more angst, slow burn, some light depression in the first few chapters, some amnesia about Middle-Earth because the Valar say you're not supposed to have foresight, hard-core language, feels, lots and lots of feels, mentions of NSFW content, maybe some eventual NSFW content, LGTBQ+ characters, Thranduil being a jackass at first because he's fabulous, Legolas being a hot edgy prince that nobody can handle, Kili being an innocent bean, Hobbits being smol innocent beans, except for Bilbo 'cause he's been through some tough shit, Bard being dad of the year, Thorin being one dumbass boi, The fucking Silmarillion, awesome dragons, awesome Nazgul, awesome scenery, awesome stuff in general, Elrond isn't listened to by anybody, confused Aragorn is confused, Denethor's a bitch as always, brace yourself for creepy as fuck Cream of Wormtongue Grima Wormtongue, Boromir lives, Gandalf. (yes these are all legit warnings don't judge me.)

Pairings/Ships: Legolas x Reader, Legolas x you, Aragorn x Arwen, Faramir x Eowyn, Thranduil x Elvenqueen, Galadriel x Celery Celeborn, Boromir x OC, Thorin x OC, Fili x OC, etc. general LoTR standard shippings plus some of my own cuz I can't stand my boys being lonely

Word Count: I try to keep my chapters short, under 2000 words. Rating: Teen (14+) for now

"You what?"

Apparently Leggy didn't comprehend the concept of being accompanied by a suddenly Elvish human from another dimension.

With a sigh and a roll of your eyes, you repeated, "I said, I'm coming with you when you leave for your orc-hunting mission."

Legolas narrowed his eyes. "And who gave you permission to do this?"

"The council, that's who. So suck it up buttercup, I'm coming with your sorry ass."

Legolas rolled his eyes. "Very well. Tell me, aside from randomly swinging a sword, do you know anything about weaponry?"

You raised an eyebrow. Shit, you'd have to fight? "No, but I can say a mouthful of greetings in Elvish."

Legolas raised an eyebrow. "Nin ista, Sairen, but words are not mightier than fighting skill in battle."

You scoffed. "I can think of a pretty famous phrase from my world that totally contradicts that..."

Legolas shook his head as he sauntered past you, down the stairs of the bridge you'd found him on. The sounds of his bows and knife sheaths clanking together as he walked relaxed you. "Of course you do, mellon." He paused to look at you. "Are you not coming? We leave in three days. If you are intent on coming with me, surely you cannot believe I will let you go without even so much as learning the proper way to stab an opponent?"

You made a face, but followed him anyway. "I know how to stab."

"How, then?" He gestured to you pointedly and crossed his arms.

"Um..." You mimed the gesture you'd probably use while stabbing an orc in the guts. "Like... This? With a twist?"

"That may work if your enemy has the weak skin and flesh of a human, or even on an Elf," He pointed out, "But we are fighting orcs, Sairen. Their hide is as thick as that of a boar, and their flesh is equally so." With a flourish, he flipped out one of his long knives. He paused in handing it to you. "I am not letting you keep this, mellon. My mother gave them to me."

You froze in reaching for the weapon. "You have a mother?"

Legolas chuckled at your wide-eyed expression. "You thought I did not?"

You stiffened before hurriedly turning away. "No! Of course not! Why would you think that?!"

Legolas laughed as he followed you. "Well, I do have one. She has been away on the other end of the palace-city. I should introduce you to her."

"Is she as fabulous as your dad?" You ran the tip of your index finger along your eyebrows. "And maybe even with the same super dark eyebrows?"

Legolas smiled. "No, no. She is perfectly beautiful."

"So you're saying your dad's not?"

"What?"

"Nothing." You waved a hand. "Where's the training grounds again?"

Legolas grinned evilly. "Well, your training begins now, Sairen. See if you can actually get to said training grounds without killing yourself on that blade."

Your jaw fell. "Are you fucking kidding me?! That's child's play! Don't you think I already know how to not do that?!"

"That is a double negative sentence, but no, I do not believe you already know this skill." Blue-Eyes shot you another grin. "Besides, we are not taking the average path to the training grounds. They are outside of the palace, after all. We will go out and around, on the hardest path imaginable. For a human, they would be entirely impassable."

You stared up at him dumbly. "Uh... Do... Do you even realize I spent the last nineteen years of my life around people with the mindset of shit water I might die because I'm a-- I was a-- human? Also, I was never agile. I won't be able to make it over a log, if it's big enough."

Blue-Eyes gave you a disapproving look. "Do the humans of your world never traverse nature?"

You pretended to think about that

"Hm... Let me see... Uhm... Yeah, nope, pretty much never, unless you're one of those super outdoorsey kinds of people, and the true ones of those are rare. For instance, most usually wear really tight clothes and walk through parks with stone paths and everything primped to perfect condition so that nobody even gets grazed by a dandelion, and everything's sprayed to keep the bugs away and animals are limited to squirrels and bunnies, then they wanna act like they just walked the fuckin' Sahara Desert without water. Real outdoor people are rare. Steve Irwin? Real. Bear Grylls? Real. Josh Gates? Real. Hell, when I was a very tiny little girl I used to watch a kid's show with two brothers who pretty much lived in the jungle. But out of everybody, those are the ones I can think of right off the top of my head. Them, and the few tribal races still out there."

Blue-Eyes made a surprised face. "Well... I am glad you got a chance to experience what real life is like."

"Thank you, Blue-Eyes." You'd reached the front gates of the palace, which were opened by a couple of those ninja Elf guys. You and Legolas walked on through, and into the forest, with its pink and amber leaves, down here, nullified into black and gray, piling up in the muck of the forest floor.

You'd been surprised when you'd seen this part of Mirkwood. Apparently, only the northern half was unaffected, but the rest of the once-spectacular Greenwood the Great was now victim to a strange plague, orc attacks from the north, and giant spider infestations from the south, from an ancient ruin called Dol Goldur. Animals no longer lived here, the rivers had mostly gone thick with filth, and the trees rotted and groaned in agony. The forest would confuse you, threaten to swallow you up and make you lose your way...

If you weren't an Elf.

Luckily for you and ol' Leggy, the two of you were Elves, and he had been raised here. If you stuck close to him, you'd be fine, even if the forest did manage to confuse you. He could hardly remember a time when the slow-acting plague hadn't been part of some region of the forest, and Tauriel had told you that he was 2, 371 years old. That was a long time for a forest to be sick.

"What even caused Mirkwood to get sick? Do you even know?"

"It is a nameless malice," Blue-Eyes replied, stopping all show-offy on a thick, low-hanging bough that precariously hung over a small gorge. "The darkness stems from Dol Goldur. Now, there are rumors; rumors of a necromancer, who resides in the ruins of that ancient fort."

"Necromancer?" That hardly sounded good. In anything where it was used, necromancer usually meant one who raises dead. "That doesn't sound good. Have you investigated it?"

"Of course not," Blue-Eyes gave you an odd look, like you'd just suggested he drink out of the toilet or something. You struggled to get up the side of a log he'd just casually hopped onto. "Why should we? They are merely rumors, and the forest has been sick for a long, long while. Still... This darkness unsettles me, as it does to all Sindar whom reside here."

"Dude, then maybe you should check the fuckin ruins," You mumbled, but he ignored you and continued hopping around from flowertop to flowertop. You just trampled noisily and clumsily along behind him. "Don't you guys like, live for light? So shouldn't you see if the ruins really do have a necromancer now? Especially since this dark ooze comes from it?"

Blue-Eyes shook his head. "King Thranduil does not wish for time to be wasted on rumors when we have other matters to deal with."

"Oh, so you mean he's too busy having everybody vote on which crown of berries goes best with his eyebrows."

"What?"

"Nothing. You Elves are just stupid."

Legolas grinned. "Well, humans are equally intellectually challenged."

You paused in chasing after him, stunned. He turned to face you when he didn’t hear you following. "Did you seriously just do that?"

"Do what?"

"You literally just used big words to sound smart." You laughed theatrically. "Oh! Pardon me, fine companion, I meant to implicate that you utilize gargantuan idioms to fabricate intelligence."

He smiled slightly as you finally made it up beside him. "I suppose you are not so daft," He relented teasingly, "Otherwise you would not even have those words in your vocabulary."

You made a face and rolled your eyes. "Whatever, blondie."

The training grounds were closer than you remembered, even taking the roundabout route. Along the way, though, you'd fallen into a bog, got your face scratched up by evil tree branches, and tumbled head-over-heels down a steep ravine, getting battered and bruised all over your body.

Apparently Middle-Earth-- Mirkwood specifically-- was prone to give previously non-Elvish members of other worlds injuries.

You made quite a show; barreling through a thorn bush and landing flat on your face right on the edge of the training grounds. You heard all the Elves turn their weapons on you, in case you were an orc, but then they seen your sorry ass, and Leggy casually coming down the steep ridge as if it was just a flight of stairs.

"Mae govannen," Said Legolas cheerfully to the Elves. Casually, he picked up his knife, which you'd thrown away from you halfway down so you didn't impale yourself at any point during the fall. Still, it'd skittered down alongside you. "Sairen, it seems you've failed this test."

"I dropped it on the goddamn border..."

"Nevertheless," Blue-Eyes ignored your response. "We are here now, and forfeiting other forms of training for the sake of redoing one failed task is pointless. You will learn as much as you can here, until I say we stop."

You finally moved, trying to at least sit up on your elbows. "It's only noon. We've got till nightfall, yeah? I can do that. No problem."

Legolas grinned down at you. "Mellon, you are of the Eldar now. You are stronger than before and do not need sleep unless you wish to dream."

"I don't what?!"

"Elves do not sleep unless we have been injured and need to heal," He replied, and grabbed you by the underarms to help you up. "We are stronger and more resilient than the race of Men. You are no longer imprisoned by the necessities of the human body."

Instant headrush slammed into you. "Apparently not all human body shit..."

He raised an eyebrow. "What do you speak of?"

"Headrush, dammit."

"Oh," He grew amused. "Do you mean the Blackness? Unfortunately, that befalls us all."

You glared daggers at him.

Another Elf approached, with a slender face and long brown hair. "My lord, most of the training grounds are taken up. You may yet have mine, if you wish so."

Legolas smiled. "Ah, my thanks. [Y/N], this is one of the Elves that accompanied Lord Elrond here, Lindir."

You extended your hand. "Nice to meet you."

Both Blue-Eyes and Lindir looked at your hand in confusion. Lindir, with a glance to Legolas, slowly tried to hand you his bow. With a roll of your eyes and a shake of your head, you realized they didn't even understand what a handshake was. "No no no, sorry; that's called a handshake. It's what two people do when they meet each other where I come from. I didn't mean to confuse you. SO." You bowed in the Elvish way. "Mae govannen, Lindir of House Elrond."

Lindir and Blue-Eyes smiled. Lindir returned your bow. "Mae govannen, [Y/N] of House Thranduil."

"Lindir will be accompanying us to trace the orcs, and Erestor of Rivendell," Said Legolas, "As will another of our own house, Elros; I believe you have met him already. He was the Elf who lead you to the councilroom. From Lothlorien is a friend of mine, Haldir, and of course, with the other Elven Lords aiding us, Mithrandir feels he should send his own aid as well..."

Lindir's eyes widened. "Do not tell me..."

Blue-Eyes nodded seriously. "He is sending Naughrim to accompany us."

"Naughrim?" You asked. Of all names, that didn't sound familiar. "Who's that? Somebody not well-liked among Elves?"

Blue-Eyes fought a smile. Lindir answered you. "Mellon, Naughrim is our tongue for dwarves."

Your mouth formed an 'o' in recognition. "Ohhhh, now I get it. Elves and dwarves hate each other for no explainable reason. Got it. Who's he sending?"

Blue-Eyes shook his head in exasperation. "They are all of Erebor. Balin and Dwalin, two are named, and of the other, he is the most insufferable of dwarves; Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King Under the Mountain. Mithrandir believes that this will be a good experience for him as it is for us, but he refuses to come himself. He's all but forcing the situation."

You looked from Blue-Eyes to Lindir and back. "How can he force you? Dwarves and Elves are both stubborn beyond all reason, and none of you seem to take him seriously."

Legolas shook his head and pursed his lips. "Unfortunately, Dwalin is as good a tracker as any, and Ada is not permitting many of the Sindar on this journey for the reason that we are merely meant to find where the yrch dwell, and go no further. We will need all the aide we can find, even if it is in the form of unwilling dwarves. As for them, he has promised treasure, the details of which I know not; I can only hope it is not any of ours he has promised them." He smiled at you. "Shall we?"

Before you could follow, he walked off; you glanced to Lindir questioningly. "...Ada? Who's that?"

Lindir smiled softly. "It means father. He is referring to King Thranduil."

"Oh. Now I feel stupid."

"Do not, mellon, for the language of the Elves is not easily learned unless you were born speaking the tongue."

With a roll of your shoulders, which ached, you followed Leggy.

***

"Ow, goddamn it, and goddamn you, you stupidly perfect Elf."

At the end of the day, you'd been cut, pricked, whipped by a bowstring, nicked, dinged, and all kinds of other small injuries that added up to one big mess of drying blood and bruises.

Blue-Eyes had had you train deep into the night, until the silvery waning moon had all but left the star-filled sky. Now, as the sunrise approached, you both sat on two convenient boulders, and he bandaged your bloodied hands. In the eerie half-dawn light, he looked ethereal, and his pale hands and silver tunic sleeves compared to your now dark-with-blood-and-mud-and-bruises hands and black sleeves was a huge contrast. Your hands shook slightly, aching and stinging and pained on various sorts of levels, while his were perfectly steady as he wrapped them in soft green leaves.

"Stop shaking, mellon," Legolas told you gently.

"What was that?" Your head snapped up. "Are you feeling sorry for me? Don't feel sorry for me! This is nothing! I've been shot in the calf by an orcish arr--OW!"

The leaves had drawn too tight and released some kind of juice that stung like hell. His hands hovered over yours. "My apologies, but it draws out the infection."

"What infection?!"

"You are not yet used to your Elven body yet," Blue-Eyes replied, looking into your eyes. "Since you are the equivalent of a newborn, I would say you are very susceptible to infections, sickness, and injuries."

You looked off dramatically into the distance. "That explains why I can't stop fucking getting hurt..."

"That it does," He smiled at you, and something pulsed in your chest. Da fuck... You fought a flush. He stood, then held out his hand to you. "Shall we return to the palace? You may rest until sunhigh, and then we will continue your training." You took his hand, and he helped you up; you stumbled into his chest, and backed up quickly. He took no notice, but patted your shoulder before going to retrieve his bow and quiver. "You did well today, Sairen, even if you frightened off half of the other Sindar and Silvan training here."

You made a face. "Pfft. They just can't handle my awesomeness."

"If you say so, mellon," He said, and started to take the easy way back, to your relief. You followed closely behind him.

You looked up at the stars as you walked in silence for awhile, until finally, you broke it. Of course, you broke anything, really... "Where I come from, they say there's a star for every soul that's passed away."

Legolas glanced to you, then followed your gaze wistfully. "That is something our two worlds have in common."

"Scientifically," You added, "They're spheres of hot air and gaseous materials wound up tight by gravity that glow and put off heat, but the idea always felt nice to me... But where I come from... You also can't see the stars."

Blue-Eyes halted in his tracks as if you'd just said someone murdered his mother. "I... What? You can't see the stars?!" He actually looked genuinely horrified by that idea.

You shook your head. "No. Humans... They've polluted the atmosphere too much. Filled it with trash, and man-made lights and even remnants of smoke... You can't see them."

He watched you even as you watched the stars. "I've never seen them like this... They're beautiful." You could see bands of galaxies and clouds of distant nebulae, and the small silver fires glittered in the billions, even as the pink-orange glow of the beginning of dawn was starting to show in the east. You were in awe.

You jumped when Legolas took your hand. "What?"

He smiled at you. "Come with me. I will show you one of the best stargazing places in all of Mirkwood."

"Thranduil's pavilion?"

"Better."

"Whoa. Dude, count me in."

He lead you off of the trail, deep into the woods, through the easiest ways that probably were a pain for him, but he did it anyway. Finally, you stopped at the base of a massive tree, stretching so far up you couldn't see its top. Its trunk was pockmarked with holes and vines, and after slinging his bow onto his back, he threw you a smile over his smile. "Come, Sairen."

You couldn't help but smile back. You climbed, quickly, all the way up, past the canopy, into the uppermost branches of the tree, where the copper-gold leaves thinned out to allow for one thick branch to get a view of the night sky. The branch was thick enough across to allow for two or three people to sit side-by-side against the trunk, and Blue-Eyes sat quickly as he helped you up.

Here, no branches obscured any part of your field of view. You got a perfect view of the sunrise, and the starry sky. "Holy shit..."

You felt him put an arm around you, and you stiffened, just before he breathed in your ear, "I will not let you fall from this tree, Sairen. You've only just arrived in this world, and should another portal be below that is activated by a beautiful sunrise, I am loathe to let you go, for there is so much I want to show you..." The sun burst over the distant mountains beyond Erebor, sending fiery orange and red across the sky. "Such as this. Your world does not sound as if it could have any sunrise as wonderful as this one."

A warm feeling blossomed in your chest as you watched the sunrise, jaw slack. "No... Not like this."

Legolas smiled, and finally turned his focus to it himself. Your eyes slowly dragged off of the beautiful scenery to look at the Elf beside you, and the warm feeling worsened; your heart started fluttering. Eldar only fall in love once... Galadriel had warned you.

...Shit.

A blush crawled up your face, and you tried your hardest to focus on the sky rather than the Elvish princeling pressed close against your side.

***

"Mae govannen, [Y/N] of the Woodland Realm," Greeted Lindir kindly as you approached the group of Elves gathering in front of the front gates.

"Mae govannen, Lindir of Rivendell," You replied with a smile. The Elvish greetings rolled off your tongue easily now. After the sunrise you and Blue-Eyes had watched together, you'd spent the last two days training at obscene hours and resting. Now, finally, the group of Elves leaving to track the orcs were gathering-- there were only about fifty in total, of which there were those wearing Woodland garments, the red-and-gold of Lothlorien, and the greens, purples, and browns of Rivendell. Apparently Galadriel, Celeborn, and Elrond didn't agree with Thranduil sending what would've only been a dozen to track some very dangerous orcs.

You heard several of them muttering to each other about Naughrim, something all of them had in common.

You swung your light traveling pack off of your shoulders and by your feet, scanning the crowd for a certain platinum-blonde head-- unfortunately, most of the Elves from Lothlorien had blonde hair. You looked at Lindir. "Where's Legolas?"

Lindir glanced around. "He is on his way, I am sure. After all, it is he and Haldir whom are leading this journey."

You nodded. "I've never packed for something like this before... I hope I didn't pack anything weird or forget something."

Lindir looked confused, then recognition flashed across his face. "Oh. Forgive me, I had forgotten you do not have this experience. Tell me, what did you pack?"

You shifted your weight nervously, and lowered your voice. "Uhh... Two extra pairs of clothes in case these get ruined, some extra food, even though I've noticed I don't have to eat as much as before, and some water. Then there's these," You gestured to your back, where a quiver and longbow hung from your back. You felt its weight all too strongly, and that of the sword on your hip and the knives on your thighs. "And some of those special leaves that're used for bandages."

Lindir smiled and placed a hand on your shoulder. "Mellon, you have packed what we all have, and lightly, as well."

You smiled. "Thanks. Just consider yourself lucky that I don't know how to read Elvish, or I would've packed a book or two to keep me company."

Lindir chuckled and stepped back. "Well, for now, I am glad of it. On this journey you will learn much, hopefully, and by the time we return, you may be able to speak more of Elvish. It is harder to learn to read it, I have heard, much harder."

You ran a finger over your chin in thought. "I wonder if Thranduil would let me go to Dale or Laketown to get some books in English..."

"Forgive me," Lindir looked confused. "I do not know what that is."

You realized what you'd said a second too late. "Oh! Sorry. Where I come from, Common is just referred to as English."

"Oh, I see now. I am sure he would, and if he does not yet, then perhaps one of the Woodland Elves could bring some back for you. What of Legolas? Are you not friends?"

You blushed. "Yeah, I hope so. I've never been very good at making friends, though. Nobody's ever really liked me." You realized Lindir was staring at you with an absolutely terrified expression. Your own eyes widened in alarm, and you frantically patted your face. "What?! Is there something on my face?!"

Lindir shook his head. "I-I am not sure. Your skin has suddenly gone red, as if burned. Are you ill?"

"Uhhh..."

You were spared the embarrassment of explaining blushing by all the Elves gathered suddenly gasping and bowing in the direction of the stairs. Lindir saw the cause before you did, and his jaw fell. "By all the Valar..." He bowed deeply, and you followed his motion, but not before catching a glimpse of who it was. Thranduil, of course, and Legolas, following a she-Elf in a tunic that looked as if it were made of starlight itself, with flowing white hair and alabaster skin.

"Ui!" Shouted Thranduil irritably. "Ni telima lume, autauva!"

You leaned closer to Lindir. "What did he say?"

"He is forbidding her to join us," He answered quickly.

The she-Elf whipped around, generating a power almost as strong as Galadriel's. Legolas stepped forward. "Amal... Mecin."

She shook her head. "Yon, venno, nin carindo ier nin indo. Alye uva pusta ni."

"What did she say about pasta?" You whispered.

"Sh!" Lindir said quickly.

The woman looked at Thranduil and Legolas lovingly, before approaching Thranduil and placing both hands on his face. Thranduil closed his eyes in regret, and the woman kissed him; you looked away, embarrassed. That was the Elvenqueen.

That was Legolas's mother.

"Melinyel, Thranduil, alye ista si."

Thranduil sighed. "Melinyel, mela... Mecin ea girthonwed."

With that, Legolas reluctantly took his mother's hand and lead her down the stairs. They disappeared in the crowd, until you heard the Elvenqueen's voice. "Rise, all of you." Unsure, the Elves rose one-by-one. "Which of you hail from far places, whom rescued my son Legolas Greenleaf from the fate of an early death?"

The Eldar glanced to one another, realized it wasn't their neighbor, and slowly, like somebody who'd gotten called out in class, you were being stared at, and a path was made between you and her majesty, while Legolas stood beside her.

You swallowed hard, suddenly terrified. Lindir patted your shoulder. "You have been summoned, mellon. Go, I will make sure your pack does not get swapped with someone else's."

You tried to look and walk confidently, but you were terrified. She was beautiful and indimidating, and you had to admit, you were definitely intimidated. When you reached her, you bowed as deeply and respectfully as you could, a fist over your heart. "Elen sila lumenn omentielvo, your majesty." You didn't know what else to say. What you'd said to Galadriel and Celeborn was the most respectful thing you knew in Elvish, and you'd never been in the presence of royalty.

"You come from another world," She looked down at you indifferently, and you suddenly felt very small and very weak with everybody's eyes on you. This was nothing like Thranduil's fabulously indifferent look. "Yet still, you saved my son's life. After, you make the presumption that you can live and walk among us as one of us, freely, unburdened, merely because you came here by happenstance and you were allowed the reward of living. Do you feel as if this is the correct course of action for you to take?"

You glanced to Legolas, absolutely horrified. "Y-your majesty..." Your hot-headed tongue, a lot more toned down, popped into existence. "I saved your son's life because he didn't deserve to die. I was given the freedom to live, and to repay that, I mean to make the most of my time here by helping in whatever ways that I can. King Thranduil has given me the chance to prove myself worthy of living here by allowing me to join in hunting for the orcs. If I fail, I will leave Mirkwood, and go with Lord Elrond to Rivendell."

Legolas's eyes widened a fraction of an inch, before going back to their normal selves; he looked to you with almost a sadness, but you couldn't figure out why. Elvenqueen smiled, as if proud. "Then you are not what the rumours of your world have made you out to be. You are humble and grateful, qualities I did not expect from one of this Earth. You possess a unique personality, [Y/N]. Tell me, who are your parents, so that I may refer to you properly?"

"I have no father," You said quickly, relieved that she was just trying to scare you. "None I care to speak about. But I do have a mother, who I love very much. Her name is [M/N]."

Elvenqueen smiled. "Very well, [Y/N], child of [M/N]. Here, we, all of us, have a secondary name, such as my son; Legolas Greenleaf. During this journey, you may earn your own."

You smiled back, relieved beyond relief that she'd decided not to kick your ass for existing. "My thanks, your majesty."

She sailed away regally, and Legolas shot you a glare. "Why did you not tell me you would be leaving us?" He demanded.

You balked. "I-I said if I failed..."

"And you are most likely to do so," He snapped, sending your heart and soul plummeting to roughly the center of Middle-Earth. Without another word, he followed his mother.

"Mellon?" Said Lindir from behind. You turned around; He held his bag and yours, which you gratefully took from him.

"Thanks," You said, but your eyes followed Legolas's back as he disappeared into the crowd.

"Is everything alright?"

"Just fine," You shrugged. You were used to being abandoned.

Lindir looked doubtful. "Very well, if you say so. May I introduce you to those you will be most judged by?"

"Sure."

He took you through the crowd, to the guy who helped you find the councilroom. "Ah, [Y/N]. Mae govannen."

You bowed your head and returned the greeting to Elros in a monotone voice. "So your name is Elros?"

"Yes," He replied. "Son of Elrond."

If you were taking a drink of water, you'd've spewed it everywhere. "Huh? But isn't Rivdendell like, waaay over the Misty Mountains?"

Elros chuckled. "Yes, but those of the Eldar cannot always remain in one place. We yearn for far places, and even farther shores. Long years I have spent in the halls of my father, but I left for Mirkwood when my sister, Arwen Evenstar, left for Lothlorien, to spend a time with our mother's mother, Galadriel."

Your eyes were wide. "Galadriel is a grandma?! Your grandma?!"

Lindir and Elros looked at each other in amusement. "Elves," Said Lindir, "Live forever, so long as we are not killed by injury, or the wounds of the heart."

"Wounds of the heart?" You echoed.

"When love remains unrequited, it is sometimes too much to bear," Replied Elros, "And the victim suffers long before dying of a broken heart. Oftentimes, it is when a wife perishes during childbirth, or when war or battle takes the life of a beloved, and their souls pass into the Halls of Mandos. I still worry for my father, even though my mother has long since passed due to child-sickness."

Your eyes widened. "I'm so sorry."

Elros raised a hand. "She is at peace now. She resides in the halls where her mother lives, and many of my kin who have long since passed on."

"Is Elrond gonna be okay?" Now you were worried. You didn't even know the guy (Even though you probably knew him before your amnesia.) but you didn't want him to die of heartbreak. He was being nice to you, and offering you a place to live if Thranduil decided to be more of an ass.

"He is strong," Lindir assured you, and partially Elros. "He is stout of heart and fierce of soul. He will live long yet, that I can assure you with the utmost certainty."

Together, Lindir and Elros took you to where another dark-haired Elf in the Rivendell attire spoke with a Lothlorien Elf in red-and-gold armor. White hair was braided away from his stern face. Elros said something in Elvish, getting their attention, and they both bowed to you. "[Y/N], child of [M/N], may I introduce you to Erestor, Chief Counselman of Elrond, and Haldir of Lothlorien."

"Mae govannen," They both said.

Haldir regarded you warily. "I have heard you come from far lands, one beyond even Arda."

You tried not to look stupid. "Arda?"

"This world upon which we live," Haldir clarified.

"Oh!" Now you knew what they were talking about. "You mean this whole planet? Mine never had a cool name; Earth, that's it, with a bunch of different countries on it. Are there countries besides Middle-Earth here?"

Erestor chuckled. "Yes. There is Beleriand, just the remains of it, to the farthest west. Also in the west lie the Gray Havens, and across the Sea are the Undying Lands of Aman, far from Endor-- that is to say, collectively, Middle-Earth and Beleriand."

"Oh, cool! Where I come from, nowhere has cool names anymore, except for maybe Dubai, Greece, and Rome. In the past, there were hardly ever cool places, except for Egypt and Babylon."

The four Elves around you glanced to each other in amusement, as if you were a child just learning new things; and you pretty much were...

"Haldir," Said a familiar voice, and you perked up as Blue-Eyes stepped through the crowd. Your heart sank as he completely avoided your gaze. Damn, you should be used to this kinda shit by now. One small thing and someone abandons you. "We go to meet the dwarves. You have told your party, yes?"

"Of course, mellon."

"As have I," Added Erestor as Blue-Eyes went to ask. "None of us may like this, but it the word of a Maiar, of which the Noldor still yet revere. Worry not, Legolas."

Blue-Eyes nodded, glanced to you, and walked back through the suddenly-departing crowd as the doors opened. You hefted up your bag further onto your shoulder. "Mmkay, Lindir?" You fell into step with the purple-clad Elf.

"What is it?"

"Questions. Lots of them. What the hell is a Mayan and a No-door?"

Lindir chuckled. "Maiar, and Noldor. The Noldor are the oldest of the Elves. The Maiar are wizards, servants of the Valar; such as Saruman, Mithrandir, and Radagast."

"They met gods?"

"Yes," Said Lindir doubtfully, eyeing you. "Do the people of your world not know of their gods?"

You scoffed dryly. "You kidding me? Almost everybody believes in some bearded guy in white floating through existence and pointing to a random spot, then saying 'Let there be light!' Bam, universe created. Others have much more gruesome stories; like in Norse, Odin and his two brothers cut up a giant to create the world. Then there was Egyptian, where two godly people representing the earth and sky consummated and BAM, universe created again. They all say the gods came from the sky, which others believe to be aliens-- people from other planets entirely-- but I've always been an atheist."

"And what does that mean?"

"That I don't believe a goddamn word of any of that 'god' shit."

"You should not speak of them so, for they hear all."

"Yuck. Let's hope they don't find somebody on their wedding night."

Lindir's eyes bugged out of his head. "That was... Sudden."

You grinned. "I'm like that. Get used to it, Lindy."

He frowned. "My name is Lindir."

"I know that," You laughed. "It's a nickname. It's a sign of friendship."

Lindir smiled. "Oh. Then we are friends, then?"

"Sure! I've never been friends with so many people before!" You looked ahead excitedly, waving when you seen Legolas glaring at you. So what if he was pissed? You'd make him un-pissed.

Lindir gave you a sad look. "But you have only befriended Legolas and myself."

"And Tauriel."

"Still, that is only three people." He looked genuinely confused. "Do the people of your world not believe in friendship either?"

You sighed. "Not really. They're more interested in betrayal. Me, personally, I've had it all. Betrayal, death, abandonment... I've gone through some shitty times, that's for sure. One catastrophe after the next. One painful step at a time through it. I've been through hell and back, been shattered like glass and looked death in the eye, and somehow, I'm still standing. Sometimes it feels like I've lived a thousand lifetimes in only nineteen years." You gave him a sideways smile before looking back ahead of you, trying to block all of the flashbacks...

Lindir regarded you with newfound admiration. "I can... See it, in your eyes. I believe all of us can. The things that you have endured are marked on your stride, and not many could recover from what you have recently gone through so quickly. A human with your strength is... Unheard of."

You laughed. "Yeah, 'cause now I'm an Elf!"

Lindir laughed too then, as did a few other Elves and she-Elves near to you-- as you walked out of the doors of Mirkwood's palace, you got this strange, tingly sensation in your core... The odd feeling of people laughing with you, not at you. The feeling of not being judged. Of people realizing you've been through hell. Of people not automatically striking you onto their enemy list because you're different.

As you moved into the north, the light filtering through the leaves was golden, and everything seemed at once surreal and ethereal. But aside from those two feelings, you felt one stronger than any other. You smiled as you looked around at your new friends in this new world, which still felt so familiar. You were happier than you'd ever been. Even though you'd miss your family, you were glad the portal had been closed.

And there are many paths to tread...

Through shadow, to the edge of night...

Until the stars are all alight...

You passed Blue-Eyes, who'd climbed a tree to scout, and when he seen your awestruck, childlike expression, even he, who was currently pissed at you, couldn't help but smile at down at you. You smiled back. That warm feeling returned.

Finally, I'm where I belong.

I'm...

I’m...home.

Tag List: @tesserphantom @thedragonghostofmordor @hauntedsiriel @reclusive-chicken-nugget @naryamirie @legolasdeserveslove @escapingthoughtsandsecrets @sagabriar @brushwood-souls @taurlel

If anybody wants to be tagged, just let me know!

Extra Notes: Elvish is SO FUCKING HARD. And yes I put the Elvenqueen in this. And dwarves are inbound. Don't guess the plotline, just DON'T.

Fun Facts: In Old Nordic mythology, there was a forest known as Mirkwood. There was also a dwarf called Durin, who created the line of the most power dwarfs, some of which, just to name a few, were Thorin, Fili, Kili, Dvalin, Balin, Oin, Oakenshield, and Gandalf. There were also many types of Elves-- Ljosalfar were the Light Elves, and Dokkalfar were the Dark Elves. In general, Elves were known as Alfar, and they lived in Alfheimr, "The Land of the Elves." Supposedly, Alfheimr had shining trees of silver and gold, like Lothlorien. Also, there was a dragon called Fafnir, a cursed fire-drake, coppery-red, who laid atop a mound of gold and guarded his wrongfully-taken treasure with his life. The original owner of this treasure was a dwarf, reduced to a husk of his former self, called Andvari, who, out of all of this treasure, loved most a golden ring, inscribed with runes. He cursed this ring, so that all who wore it would soon come into misfortune...

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duker42 · 5 years ago

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Yayy! Your askbox is open! ❤ Can you write a fic where the reader loves Levi from the bottom of her heart, but she refuses to confess because she's afraid of his possible rejection so when she's sure he's at his office she'd leave quality tea leaves behind his door and goes to her room without letting Levi know it was her when he finds the tea bag. This process continues for a few times until the night before the RtS arc and after-

💜The Gift of Tea💜

Y/N was head over heals in love with the short, stoic and often times offensive Captain. There was just something about him that made her heart pound and her face to get hot when he turned those cold granite eyes on her. However she knew that she didn’t have a prayer of the reserved man returning her affections.

She had made her peace with the fact that her love was unrequited, and would always be, for she had no intentions of every telling the raven haired man how she felt. She knew that she would be rejected and that would just make the entire issue of working beside him daily a problem.

He hated the fan fair his fame brought. Detested the idea of people fawning over him for his strength and accomplishment on the battlefield. So the idea of Y/N caring for Levi on a personal level would just be swept aside like ill placed romanticized hero worship. Y/N knew that it wasn’t, she loved Levi for exactly who he was, but the man would never believe that.

Still, she tried to figure out a way to show him that someone cared for him in a way that he would appreciate. He was often a loner, retreating to his office unless he was in meetings with Erwin and Hanji or training with the Squad. He was also a simple man, having very little in the way of luxury that he allowed himself.

As Y/N spend her free day in the marketplace, she contemplated her options. There wasn’t much that she could thing of. The man loved cleaning and tea. Cleaning supplies didn’t appeal, so she decided to find some amazing tea. She wandered through the open air market until she found the stand she had been searching for. They had blends she had never heard of, the earthy smells of the dried leaves filled her senses and made her smile. She asked the merchant many questions, inquiring about the most precious blend of leaves he had. Something that would appeal to a black tea drinker.

Her purchases made, her purse was much lighter for the carrying. The tea had cost her a month’s wages, but would worth it if it would bright some joy into the somber man’s existence. Her plan was simple, she would leave the tea at his door anonymously, giving the Captain an opportunity to enjoy the gift without the worry of rejection.

She put her plan into action that night when she came back to the base. Slipping away from the Mess Hall, she set one of the small containers of loose tea leaves on the doorknob to his office, certain he would see the tin when he came back to burn the midnight oil.

The next day, she noticed that Captain Levi was observing the members of the Scouts very carefully as he sat at the superior’s table. She made sure to look away and grinned to herself as she resumed eating.

Delivering another report from Commander Erwin for the Captain’s signature, Y/N was discreetly asked about the gift.

“Cadet, did you see anyone lurking near my office last night?” He didn’t look up from the report as he casually asked.

Y/N feigned a perplexed look as she answered. “No sir, is something amiss?”

“No, here you go. Return these to Erwin.” He glanced at her as she saluted, waving her off and handing her the papers. Her back was turned as she grinned all the way to the door.

~~~~~

She continued the delivery of the small tins of tea, taking great pleasure in that the Captain had enjoyed the small gifts she left for him. He had pondered the intentions of the person several times, never coming up with the truth of her tokens of affection.

The time had grown near. The mission to reclaim Wall Maria was fast approaching. The tension within the walls of HeadQuarters grew as the plans were finalized. Levi had already briefed his Squad on what was to come, as protecting Eren was their primary objective.

Y/N knew that when the details were given, many lives would be lost in the battle for humanity’s fate. As she sat in the Mess Hall, listening to Erwin explain the Titan serum injection that would be held by Levi, her stomach dropped. It was going to be even worse than their most devastating expedition. In those moments, listening to Erwin’s deep voice, Y/N knew that she wasn’t going to come home from Shiganshina.

~~~~~

Levi was sitting against a wall, his arms propped on his knees, in the alley when Y/N found him. He seemed intently listening to the conversation on the street behind him. She stood back, not interrupting him as the animated conversation interested him.

When the people on the street moved on, Levi picked up his mug of ale and took a sip and looked down the dark alleyway. “Come on out, Y/N.”

She emerged from the shadows and walked to him, looking down at him when she stopped at his feet. “I’ve a favor to ask you, Captain.”

Tired eyes looked up at her as he took another swig of ale. “What?”

She crouched down in front of him and reached beneath her shirt. Sharp eyes watched her movement as she pulled a beautiful necklace from where it rested on her chest. It was a beautifully delicate chain of precious gold, intricate knots crafted at perfectly positioned intervals. The disc in the center of the chain was the embossed image of Saint Maria.

Taking the necklace off, she offered it to Levi. He furrowed his brow in confusion as he looked at the proffered item. “It was my mother’s. It was the last thing she gave me before she died.”

“So why are you handing it to me?” His curiosity evident in his question.

“I’m realistic. I’m not coming back from Shiganshina. I want you to keep it safe.” Understanding filled his eyes as he nodded once and lowered his head, allowing her to slip the necklace around his neck. The gold gleamed against the dark shirt he wore and the pale skin at his throat.

“You come get this from me when we get back, Y/N.”

~~~~~

Y/N trudged wearily down the hall to her destination. Her entire being ached. Not just her body, which was battered and bruised from the fierce battle, but her soul cried out in pain. Ten Scouts had returned to Wall Rose. Almost two hundred lay dead in and around Shiganshina, and ten were all that were sparred the finality of death. Commander Erwin had been lost, his life’s blood drained on a field where stones had been used as weapons against man and beast.

She knew that Levi had taken it the hardest. Having to choose between two comrades, one who had plucked him from the Underground was enough to make the strongest man falter. Still, he had remained stoic, but the dimness of his eyes told the tale of his grief. He had slipped away from the others after the debriefing, skulking away to mourn in private. Y/N wouldn’t let him grieve alone.

Knocking on the door, she heard the silence from within. She knew that he was in there, alone, in the dark with just his memories and self doubt for company. Pushing the door open, she found him sitting on his couch, elbows on his knees with his head hung down. His jet black hair covered the eyes she knew were clouded with pain. He always felt the loss of their comrades so deeply, even if he didn’t show it to others.

Slowly approaching, she sat down gingerly beside him and laid a warm hand on his forearm. He turned his head slightly and looked at the hand, then her eyes, his own screaming out the weariness and pain of the days results.

“Captain Levi, would you like me to make some tea?” The offer of companionship was extended, veiled in a chore.

He said nothing but nodded his head, unable to even voice his extreme thanks for the momentary relief he found at thinking of anything other than what was in his head.

Y/N returned quicker than he had imagined she would. The tray must have already been set up. She had known that he would accept, and prepared. A single thought shot across his mind. Had she been the one who had left the tins of tea?

She was the only one who seemed to accept his love of tea as just a natural part of his personality. Like the crass insulting demeanor fit in perfectly with the civilized nature of tea time. She interrupted his analytical thoughts into her behavior as she handed him cup and saucer.

Bringing the tea up, he inhaled deeply before gripping the cup with his fingers. The scent was one that he had grown extremely fond of before their last mission. It was the tea blend that he had been receiving from the mysterious benefactor. His narrowed eyes finds hers looking away, suddenly hesitant to meet his intense gaze.

Setting the tea down, he fingers the metal that has been around his neck. Warm from his skin, he pulls the chain off, and moves closer to Y/N.

“I believe this is yours.” He whispered, his hands moving to unfasten the clasp. He watched her carefully as his arms moved around her, noting the deepening color in her cheeks as she nibbled on the bottom of her lip.

He let his hands trace the chain, fingertips brushing her flushed skin as they came to hold the disc in the center of her chest. “Thank you, Y/N.”

Her confusion as his cryptic words was evident. Her eyes widened as he came closer, their noses almost touching. “Your gift of tea was appreciated. But I like the affection behind it more.”

He leaned forward and melded his mouth to hers. Letting the sweet taste of her fill his senses, he knew that while the past hurt, he could get used to the idea of a future with Y/N.

#captain levi #levi ackerman #snk levi #levi aot #shingeki no kyojin #aot fanfiction #attack on titan #levi ackerman x reader #snk x reader #aot x reader #shingeki no kyojin fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin x reader #levi x reader #captain levi x reader #levi heichou

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chonkychornes · 5 years ago

Text

Open Arms Part 3

Synopsis: You come back broken from a mission, and the one person who could barely put himself back together is the one who is trying to help you.

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Language? Angst. Smut…eventually. UST. 3 of ? parts. How’s this as a warning: this is my first reader insert fic and it was a challenge, y’all. So, as long as it isn’t the worst thing anyone has ever read, I’m still doing okay! I hope you enjoy it!

Also, this is really for @quant-um-fizzx I couldn’t have/wouldn’t have done any of this without her help and guidance.

Part 1

Part 2

Two weeks after the great switcheroo, you have your biggest setback thus far.

Sleep had not come easily the last few nights and you knew a nightmare of epic proportions was brewing just under the surface. You had worn yourself out as much as possible by doing several circuits in the gym. Your nightly routine included drinking some herbal nighttime tea and taking a healthy dose of melatonin … and yet you still found yourself keyed up and anxious.

You started thinking of, well, everything while you waited for the eventuality of the night to overtake you.

That’s when the idea of the nice warm bed, with the nice warm man down the hall springs to mind. There’s something to be said about being completely physically satisfied to make you sleepy and Steve was always good at turning your brain to mush.

You weigh the pros and cons quickly before you realize that it would be just like it was before; a moment in time where you used each other for what you needed. Surely, your best friend wouldn’t deny you that, right?

Slipping out of bed and creeping down the hall in an oversized T-shirt, courtesy of the man himself, and socks that you can’t seem to sleep without now, you wonder how stupid this is going be.

“Hey, Steve? Remember how I said I didn’t want us to fuck around anymore? Well, I can’t sleep. Can you just nail me real good so I pass out?” You snort to yourself and try not to laugh out loud. You figure by the time you wake him up the two of you will just talk until you feel tired enough to pass out, or the moment subsides.

When you get to the door that leads to Steve’s personal quarters, you key in the code quickly and turn the handle, but the door remains locked. Confused, you try it again several times until FRIDAY’s voice comes over quietly due to the late hour.

“Miss, Captain Rogers changed the code two weeks ago. Would you like me to wake him up?”

You stand up rod straight and realize that this is the dumbest thing you could possibly do.

“No, please don’t wake him. I’m sorry I bothered you, Friday.”

“Not at all, Miss. Is there any way I can be of assistance?”

FRIDAY was a fully functional, self-aware AI; you could have a full conversation with her if you wanted.

“Is anyone else up? Where are they?”

“Mr. Stark is in the R&D lab, of course. He’s asked to not be disturbed unless there is an emergency. Mr. Barnes is in the pool.”

“Thanks.” You slide down the hall and enter your quarters to run into your room and strip down, only to pull your swimsuit on. Laps sound good right about now. Being around another person sounds good.

The moment has passed and now that you think about it as you throw the nightshirt back over you, it wasn’t even about sex. You just need to be around someone.

When you reach the pool, you’re automatically mesmerized by the body slicing through the water. It’s all muscles, pale skin, and one gleaming arm.

James “Jesus sweetheart, even in Wakanda they didn’t call me that” Barnes pops up at the opposite end of the pool from where you are and wipes the water from his eyes. When he sees you, he offers a sly smile.

“A little late for you to be making your rounds,” he pulls himself up on the edge to sit and kicks his legs in the water. “What’re you doin’?”

You pull off the shirt and toss it aside before sitting on the edge of the pool and plunking your legs in the warm water. A shrug eeks out of you and suddenly, that desire to be around someone dissipates and you feel like you don’t know what to say or how to say it.

“I just … I was feeling a little lonely, I guess.”

He nods and stares at you, “It’s weird, right? You think you want to be around people but then when you are, you don’t want to be.”

“Yes! And when I know for a fact that I want so desperately to be alone, that’s when I go looking for everyone,” you trail off as you see him nod.

“Your mind is always going to feel al little twisted now.”

“Does it get easier?” You can feel the tears pricking at your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall.

“Sure, but you know that you’re never the same, right? There’s a part of you that’s broken and it can be mended, but it will always be weak,” he slides back into the water and in what seems like a flash, is up on the ledge next to you and you can feel droplets of water falling off of the ends of his hair onto your skin.

“It doesn’t mean that you are weak,” he staring at you and you wish you didn’t feel like you were being scrutinized. “Just those parts of you. The parts make up the whole, darlin’. You just gotta remember that.”

You smile and lean your head on his shoulder and let those tears finally fall. He wraps an arm around you as you tell him about the last couple of nights and the nightmare you know is just under the surface.

He offers you some meditation techniques and promises to work with you on them in the next few days.

“Wanna race?” He’s breaking the tension and you’re grateful for it.

You laugh and poke him in the shoulder, “Sure, but you have got to ditch the ace in the hole.” You reach around and touch his metal arm and his ensuing laugh echoes off the tiled walls.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A week after your night swimming session, Steve selects Sam and Nat to join him on what should be a week-long mission. He comes to your quarters to tell you about his departure and when you ask why James isn’t going his answer is a shock to you.

“He’s staying for you,” Steve sits on your sofa and stares up at you as you gape at him.

“‘I don’t need a babysitter,” your voice is taking on a shrill tone, but you don’t care. “ Besides, there’s plenty of people here if I need anyone.”

He rubs the back of his neck and sighs, “There is no way to say this that doesn’t make this sound bad, so just take a seat and deal with it.” He pats the cushion next to him and you sit with your arms crossed.

You already don’t like what he has to say.

“Bucky sees you as a pet project … of sorts. He just wants to make sure that either he or I is here with you at all times until you’re feeling more secure in yourself.”

You sink back into the cushions and let that sink in; it feels incredibly insulting and somehow very sweet at the same time. You don’t like it at all, but you can appreciate it.

“Both of you are dicks,” you say with a smile and Steve barks out a laugh. “The whole point is that I’m trying to do this on my own.”

“Bucky says that asking for help is the hardest and bravest thing you can do,” Steve wraps an around your shoulders as he waxes poetic. “That sounds like something they say in some kind of anonymous meeting, but what do I know?”

“So, what you’re saying is that I should be nicer to the cyborg and ask for help more often?” You can feel Steve’s body shake as he chuckles and you laugh too.

“Sure, but maybe don’t call him a cyborg, huh?”

“Never to his face, I swear,” pulling away you look up to his face and feel all the seriousness you used to feel before you went on your own missions. “You’ll be safe, right? Come back in one piece, more or less?”

“You got it, kid.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head before telling you that he’s got to get the mission briefing together and leaves.

You wander the halls of the compound before you find James outside under that dam tree again, reading. When you open the door and give a low whistle, he looks up and over at you.

“You coming out?”

You nod and he sets the book aside and locks eyes with you. You steel yourself and walk out. You used to love to be outdoors and the fact that it is such a challenge now is so disappointing. Halfway to the tree, a breeze catches your hair that isn’t tied up and you stop in your tracks.

He doesn’t say anything, just watches you as you raise your arms and take a deep breath. You close your eyes and just let the air flow around you. This is what you’ve missed, being out in nature, feeling the breeze, listening to leaves rustle.

When you open your eyes you find James standing a few feet away from you with a concerned look on his face. You smile and that’s when you realize that you’re crying; you hadn’t realized.

“You good, darlin’?” He steps towards you and you fling your arms around his neck and laugh as he grabs onto you. When you don’t let go, he hugs you harder and lifts you off the ground to spin you around.

When he lets you go, you pull away an offer him a genuine smile.

“You look like a fairy queen with your hair all mussed from the breeze,” he gazes down at you. “You look happy right now.”

“I am happy right now.”

A moment passes between the two of you. You wonder what he would taste like and if his kiss would fill you to the bottom of the soles of your feet. His tongue slips out to moisten his lips and you sigh slightly. That seems to break the spell between you both. When you pull away from each other, there’s awkwardness but you don’t avoid each other’s gaze.

“So, Steve’s leaving for a mission,” you walk past him to sit under the tree. “Wanna have dinner in his place?”

James walks over and resumes his spot next to you and picks up the book.

“That depends, what are you making, doll?”

And just like that, you’re planning dinner outside like you used to; and grateful for it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The golden trio has been gone for two months.

Emotions are running high at the compound and you’re currently locked in a battle of wills with one James “So help me if you don’t just call me Bucky” Barnes.

“I’m not cooking for you, Barnes.” You are perched on the island in the communal kitchen, arms crossed over your chest, defiance all over you face.

“Fine, doll. You don’t have to cook for me,” he’s pacing the room and stalking you like prey. “I’m saying we should go out for dinner. Somewhere out in the city. We could even get all gussied up. I bet Stark could get us in someplace real nice.”

You swing your head around to him and stare, “The city? This city? As in New York?” Beads of sweat form on your brow and you can feel your stomach roll at the just thought of stepping off the property.

“What other city do ya think I’m talkin’ about? You wanna go to Paris or London? I’m sure we could go there,” he runs a hand through his hair and pulls it up into a hasty bun. “You just have to get over yourself and walk out of that damned gate!” He points vaguely in the direction of the main gate and your spine stiffens.

He spins around to look at you, and his eyes soften. You’re sure he can see the whites of your knuckles and he can hear the quickened pace of your heart. James is in front of you in a flash and giving you his most reassuring smile.

“Hey, I’m sorry, doll,” he moves his hands to your shoulders in a move you’ve come to crave. He begins massaging the knots in your muscles and every time his thumbs pass over the sides of your neck, you lean into the warmth of his touch.

You’ve been so touch starved that these small moments he offers you are like a balm for your soul. You keep to yourself as much as possible, even when the other three are around, but to go so long without touching another person has been excruciating for you.

“I know you’re worried about them, but we know they’re fine,” he’s crooning at you and you relax so much that you uncross your arms and sag under his hands. “We got their message.”

“It’s not even that, James.” You roll your eyes as he does at his name and stare right into his eyes. “I’m just not the same and I can’t imagine leaving this place. It’s a safety net … I need to be here.”

His hands pause for the merest of seconds before he scoops you off the counter and carries you out to the common room and sits down with you on the couch.

“So, where would you like to start first?” He pulls your legs over his laps and begins rubbing your feet, “And don’t even bother giving me a sarcastic answer. All massages go away if you do.”

The look he gives you not only tells you he’s serious about taking his hands away from your socked feet but also that he understands and picked up on your need for human contact.

“Um, how about the safety net thing?” You slide down a little on the couch and grab a pillow to prop up behind your head.

“You know if you want to be considered mission-ready, all you have to do is leave,” one eyebrow is cocked as he looks at you and you chew on your lip and shrug your shoulders.

“Deep down I understand that,” you sit up on your elbows when he pulls on your pinky toe. “Ow! When you were in Wakanda and T’Challa came to you … were you ready to leave that behind? To just leave the safety of that little lakeside home you had and go back off to fight?”

He’d told you about his time in the foreign land; of his struggles to regain himself with Shuri’s help and T’Challa’s friendship and guidance. How the little lake had offered him solace and tending to the goats had given him peace.

“I fight; we fight,” he emphasizes the phrase and grabs the other foot. “It’s not just that it’s the only thing I know how to do, because it isn’t.”

“Obviously, you could make a killing as a masseuse.” You offer him a cheeky grin and then a yelp as he tickles the sole of said foot.

“It’s not just that, but that now I do it because it needs to be done and I’m pretty sure I’m doing it for the right reasons.”

Staring up at the ceiling you ponder his words and it strikes you as odd, “You’re pretty sure?”

“Can we ever really be right about any of this when people die?”

The two of you are quiet for some time after that before you finally say, “Okay, so let’s go somewhere.”

“Yeah?” There’s a hopeful, childlike giddiness in his voice and it’s spread all over his face.

“Yeah, I mean, I’m not super thrilled about the idea and I might back out as soon as we reach the gate, but yes,” you pull yourself up into a sitting position and look at him. “But I want the works, Barnes.”

“Jesus, I’ll have to talk to Stark, won’t I?”

“Nope. You’ll need Pepper for this,” you grin and poke him in the chest. “Dinner and a show. Preferably a musical.”

“Wait, what?” He looks absolutely horrified. “I never said anything about going to a show.” He stands and begins pacing, “I’ll need to make sure my suit is clean and I gotta find my gloves.”

You’re smirking at him when he stops dead in his tracks and glares at you.

“Do I need to shave or,” he gulps and you swear you can see how difficult this is by the way his Adam’s apple bobs up and down, “Cut my hair?”

After assuring him that hair grooming would only consist of washing and brushing it, Pepper is brought in and up to speed.

The look of confusion is remarkable for someone so clever and you stifle a laugh as she asks James to explain to her one more time “just so she understands fully”.

You’re doing your best to look nonchalant on the couch when she cocks an eyebrow over his shoulder at you.

“How obnoxious should this musical be?” She already has her phone out and is tapping away.

“I think we need the full impact,” you shoot her a grin and she shakes her head and smiles.

“You’re torturing him, aren’t you?” You say nothing as James turns to look at you.

“Do I need to be here for the details?” When both you and Pepper shake your head he walks out muttering about getting his suit ready and resistance techniques.

Tickets are at Will Call and you have a reservation for 10 pm at Joe Allen’s,” Pepper sits down gracefully next you on the couch. “What are you wearing?”

The two of you had never been exceptionally close, but she had always been kind and friendly. When you shrugged she sighed and dragged you up off the couch with her as she stood.

“I don’t know why you two were discussing dinner plans at three in the afternoon, but the show starts at seven, so we don’t have time to go shopping.” She guides you into the hall, “FRIDAY? If Wanda is home, please let her know that she will have a visitor shortly who needs evening wear.”

Pepper walks with you to the elevator and smiles gently, “I’d offer you something, but you’re a bit broader in the shoulders than I am. You and Wanda are closer in size.”

“Thank you, for everything,” you squeeze her hand as the elevator dings, alerting its arrival.

“Are you ready for this?” Pepper knows about what you’ve been dealing with. Tony dealt with it too, and he’s been an invaluable source of help and guidance.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to leave here,” you step into the lift and hold open the door. “That’s why I have to do it. Plus, James is being really nice and supportive about it.”

“I’m sure that’s not the only reason he’s being so nice to you, but whatever you need to tell yourself,” she smiles as the door begins to close. “Enjoy your date!”

Wanda is a fashion diva with a dark side and she just saved your skin. You told her about Pepper’s joke and she only smiled.

Since Wanda towered a good six inches over you, most of her skirts and dresses hit you at a weird length. She was getting frustrated and you were getting discouraged when she pulled an elegant black pantsuit from the depths of her closet and held it out to you.

“The legs are too short for me, but it should work for you.” She holds it out for you and you fall in love with how soft the silk is and how daring the neckline is. It’s nothing you would have ever bought for yourself, but you immediately pull it on and step in front of the mirror.

Wanda steps behind you with her hands on her hips and lips pursed.

“It’s too much, huh?” You look down at the pencil leg that hits right at the bottom of your ankle and the deep v neck that reaches a point at your navel. You keep rolling your shoulders because the halter neck is too large, but Wanda quickly adjusts it and suddenly pert breasts are sitting pretty and the ebony color offsets your skin.

It’s slightly formfitting but you’re slender, so it looks like you’re pulling it off.

“You need heels,” Wanda says this so matter of factly that you don’t worry for one second … until she pulls out a towering pair of stilettos.

“Not on my life or yours,” your arms cross and you stare her down. She sighs and pulls out a pair of ballet flats instead. “I think I have something that will work.”

She riffles through the discarded clothes in a heap on her bed and pulls out a tuxedo jacket with a shiny silver lapel that you had been hoping you could wear.

“Leave your hair down, smoky eyes, and either a nude lip or red,” she whips her hands around and her clothes have all moved back into the closet as you stand there and stare at her.

“I didn’t know you could do that,” you smile as she laughs. “Thank you, Wanda.”

“Have fun and if you need anything, I’ll be home.” Her meaning is more than clear. She has your back and she’ll have it tonight if you need her to. You lean down and kiss her cheek before scooting out of her room and making your way down to your own.

It’s five pm and you’ve managed to shower and get yourself together without too much incident. You attribute that to being mission ready for the last several years. You’re sure you could still pack a bag in under five minutes and that makes you happy.

The show starts at seven and the plan is to have drinks at the theater beforehand. You see Happy pull up out front and stand by the car. Pepper really did think of everything.

The elevator dings and you turn around to find James “Jesus, that man looks too good to be called Bucky” Barnes step out into the hall.

He’s not at all traditional and that surprises you, but he pulls it off so well that you almost swoon. The royal blue velvet dinner jacket is pulled over a stark white shirt and long skinny tie to match the jacket. His slacks are charcoal and tight in all the right places.

His hair is up in his usual half bun and he’s trimmed down his beard to a slight five o’clock shadow. As he walks forward you notice that the man is not wearing anything between his feet and his dress shoes.

“Where the hell are your socks?” You ask as he grins and offers his arm. You take it and grin back him as he leads you outside.

“Hiya Happy,” you both greet the driver who gives you both a wide smile but says nothing as you enter the car.

“I wearing socks, doll.” James is showing you his foot as you buckle in and the car pulls away from the curb. “They’re the hip thing these days.”

The little slipper socks he’s wearing are not the hip thing, but you indulge him because you’re certain he’s about to be bored to death for the next two to three hours.

“Well, you look very handsome James,” you look up through the front windshield and let out a small gasp.

The front gate is opening and you meet Happy’s eyes in the rearview mirror as he waits to drive forward. You blindly reach out and find your hand firmly clasped in James’ metal one.

“Where are your gloves?” the murmur is quiet as it escapes your lips and you wonder if he heard you until you feel him tug your hand to get your attention.

“In my pocket,” his flick back and forth into yours. “It’s just a line, that’s all it is.” You gulp and squeeze your eyes shut and nod.

Happy pulls forward and you don’t open your eyes until you hear James ask you, “So, you sure you know how to walk in those shoes, sugar?”

Your eyes pop open and you know what he’s doing; you can’t ignore a challenge. “Natasha trained me. I can kick your ass in these heels.” You cross your legs and point one foot to show off the black strappy sandal with the stacked heel.

“Yeah, I believe that.” His eyes linger on your lips and you lick them subconsciously, “What show are we going to see anyway?”

Three hours later, you’ve watched as James cracked up as King Arthur’s servant banged coconut shells together as they ran around the stage, you both cheered on The Lady of the Lake and her Laker Girls as they turned Dennis into Sir Gallahad, and he had wrapped his arm around you at the end when you shed a few laughing tears as King Arthur married The Lady of Lake, who turned out to be Guinevere.

You get seated at a quiet table, in the back at Joe Allens and James orders a bottle of champagne.

“That was more fun than I thought it would be,” he says as the waiter leaves to retrieve the bottle and give you time to look over the menu.

After sampling the champagne and placing an order for crab cakes to start and a bacon cheeseburger for Sir, and for the lady, the lobster roll.

“So, how are you feeling?” James leans back in his chair and lifts his flute to his lips.

“I feel … fine.” You shrug your shoulders but when you lock eyes with him you only see open encouragement, so you continue. “I’ve had so much fun that I haven’t been paying attention.”

You lean across the table and look directly at him, “I mean, I’ve been paying attention. As soon as Happy dropped us off, it was like I was operation ready again.”

He leans across the table to meet you in the middle, “That’s because you were ready.”

You linger over the food and he gripes when you swipe the kosher pickle spear off his plate and take a bite. “You don’t even like pickles, Barnes!”

You stick your tongue out at him when he criticizes how you eat the lobster roll, “You aren’t supposed to pick out the meat with a fork! Eat it like a hot dog, for chrissakes!”

After you split a huge slice of apple crumb pie ala mode James moves his chair around next to yours and you both finish off the champagne as the other patrons pay their checks and slip out into the night.

“You clean up real good, doll face,” James whispers as another couple walks by and towards the door. “Maybe we can do this again sometime.”

The waiter appears with another bottle of champagne and when you both protest he says simply, “Mr. Stark sends his congratulations and has taken care of things here this evening.”

You can feel your heart constrict a little in your chest but choose instead to focus on the positive. You managed to have a lovely evening, outside of the compound, on the arm of a handsome and funny man who was currently looking at you like you were the only woman in the world.

And Tony Stark was footing the bill.

Maybe it was all the champagne and delicious food. Maybe it was how good, even after several hours, James looked in his suit. Maybe being all done up and wearing makeup did make you feel more confident like the magazines tried to tell women all over the world.

When you leaned into his side and looked up at him and he gazed down at you, you saw longing; deep and real. You reach across his chest and tug on his lapel to bring him closer and when you moisten your lips he copies your action.

Just before impact, just before what could make or break any of this; just before you have to decide later on if it was all the champagne and the atmosphere or something more, both of your phones start buzzing and blaring.

The spell is broken as you both reach for your devices.

The golden trio has returned and you each received a message from Steve.

“Thanks for the warm welcome, assholes.”

Tagged onto a picture of a pitch-black compound.

“I guess the night is over for us,” James removes his arm from around your shoulders and stand up to call Happy.

Not only is the night over, but you’re pretty sure the moment is too.

#Bucky Barnes x Reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky #bucky barnes fic #bucky fic

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mipadremadara · 4 years ago

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if you don't mind me asking a lot about the fic thing, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 7, 8 and 9 (LMAO. all the list😂😂😂) for "Summer Nights"?? I REALLY NEED TO CAUGHT UP!!!! (You obviously can answer telling things about chapters I haven't read, btw, it's okay, haha). And if it's too much, you can answer just a few, hahaha. I'm just really curious because I reallyyyyy love the fic. ILY💖💖

Ahh thank you so much for this ask!!! Every time I get an ask from you my face immediately lights up ahaha. I'm so glad you like the fic??? Ahhhh! Ily too!! I hope you're having a nice day/night! I’ll only do Chapter 1 and 2 for now as to not spoil much! (I’m not sure which chapter you finished on haha.)

1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?

I really really really like stories that just flow. That literally drift. I have no idea how to describe it, but I also love poetry and I thought by kind of incorporating that and a sort of movie vibe to it it'd capture people's hearts the way it haunts mine at night hahaha.

2: What scene did you first put down?

It must be the scene where Naruto is sitting outside the porch and looking at the night sky. The title is Summer Nights, after all! It's supposed to hint at the fact that Naruto and Sasuke share the most tender moments at night.

3: What’s your favorite line of narration?

There's so many that I like tbh!! But here are some of my favorite ones without spoiling too much!!

Chapter 1:

The man knew Sasuke would get rid of every photographic memory of his past and there would be no remaining snapshots of his lifetime left. Behind the everyday smiles and poking around the playgrounds, fairgrounds, Sasuke never dwelled on the topics that resurfaced even the slightest of human, perhaps weak emotions. And so was the shameless irony, pouring out, like vomit.

I wanted to capture the sense of lingering trauma that still haunts Sasuke everyday. No matter how life seemed to come to a halt, or how things seemed to finally settle down, the pain will always prevail. And in a way, Naruto is the same, even if he masks it well. I feel like this was never truly explained so I wanted to show that they are still hurting; the wounds that were meant to heal only left bitter scars in the end.

Writing from Sasuke’s POV is always very emotion-centered. I’d imagine Sasuke, as shown in the fic, is a little more open, especially around Naruto. He let his walls down, although not by choice. He had to prove to Konoha he changed, but around Naruto, he can truly be himself.

The Uchiha was all tall, strong arms and long fingers. He fondled them for a passing minute, pressing the raven’s palms against his own. After the War, they grew quite intimate, and really, everyone talked about it. He always looked forward to touching Sasuke, even if it was small, feathery nudges - like holding hands or giving each other small hugs. It reminded him how truly privileged he was to be around him. He savoured those bosom jiffies, and that night was no different.

I really like the fact that their relationship isn’t driven by lust, but more so an understanding. There’s a mutual connection here; two boys going through absolute Hell and finally close to settling down after a rough battle against the odds. No one knows Sasuke the way Naruto does and vice versa, I think it’s quite beautiful actually! Sasuke allowing himself to become intimate again by taking these baby steps, such as touching hands and small hugs, it’s very healing for the both of them!

They stood still in that bleached moment. The love, the joy; it was burning passionately, bringing nothing but bloom to the cheek; showing no reruns. The smile, he considered a gift.

I just really love this bit. Reading it always makes me so soft haha. I think it sums up their whole relationship perfectly.

Chapter 2:

Sakura made him feel like an utter imbecile. Like a love-struck damsel in distress.

Here, what Sakura really sees isn’t Naruto, but herself. She knows what it’s like to chase after Sasuke, and as much as she loves the two of them, she doesn’t want Naruto to get hurt. I just think this line was really cool haha.

People often told Sasuke how he blended into the background while Naruto stood out from the crowd when they were together. Maybe that was why everyone deemed him worthy of being the next in line. They were polar opposites; like warm and cold. Fire and water. They just didn't fit. Supposed everyone told them similar scenarios, but they did not care much about the public and its predetermined ideas of what was right and what wasn't. It was arguably, the most bizarre finger-pointing he had the displeasure of witnessing. But he guessed Naruto loved the attention.

I really like this line, and not just because of the imagery used here, but because it shows how others see Naruto and Sasuke’s relationship. And also, that short dismissive ending paragraph I found to be super effective.

The other girl, Hinata, made an attempt to lean forward to catch Naruto’s gaze. It was what made everyone lean towards her, too, no less in a charming way that she perhaps knowingly radiated. It caused Ino to take a step back, and Sasuke must’ve stood there for a few moments, listening to the soft mumbling of her lips. They began to ask Naruto questions in low, hushed, thrilling voices as if not to let Sasuke know any of it. He knew the girl had lost her brother during the War (at which he had expressed his deepest sympathy), but he couldn’t shake off the feeling that maybe Naruto was being deceived by her shy persona.

I loved describing Hinata, but not for the reasons you might think. No one aside from Naruto has been described in such detail, but Hinata. It’s to show that Sasuke, since it’s from his POV, considers her to be a competition. He knows she knows that she can easily woo people to do her bidding, and considering her status, Naruto would certainly be charmed.

Hinata’s own voice held a timid passion behind it; a pleasant, mellow tenor that was very subtle, especially in the way her every uttered word suggested something greater than her face might have unveiled. Her face - on the other hand - was lovely. Caring eyes and a caring mouth conveying nothing but a feeling of fresh honey and lavender. Her hands looked smooth to the touch when she grazed them against Naruto’s rather tacky ones; as if she had never worked a day in her life. He could tell Naruto enjoyed looking at her.

Again, Sasuke knows this persona that Hinata created was quite deceiving and had Naruto wrapped around her finger. That is what he thinks, and as usual, assumes things because Naruto and Hinata are close. I also really like her description here, it radiates such soft vibes haha.

He marveled in the way his laugh carried throughout the day, forcing even the biggest assholes in the universe to crack a smile.

I really like this line because Sasuke is talking about himself here; that Naruto is always successful at making him smile.

The attachment to the outside world and the growth of his dubious mind was what made Sasuke overthink certain situations. The way it tangled, twisted, and knotted. He wanted to fondle Naruto's hands, listen to his heartbeat as his eyes grew heavy.

Agape; the sign of unconditional love. For his one and only.

I mean? These lines absolutely slap I think haha.

4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

I didn’t want to add too many so I just included a couple!

Chapter 1:

“You know, if you continue to frown like that, you’ll have lots of wrinkles in the future.”

I just love Sasuke’s attempt at comforting Naruto haha.

Chapter 2:

“Don’t piss in my ear and tell me it’s raining, Sasuke.”

I just,, love this line so much. It always cracks me up hahaha. And of course, it’s Kakashi’s line.

5: What part was hardest to write?

Honestly? Probably the scene where they spar in the third chapter, as well as Gaara and Naruto's reunion! I loved writing it, but having to balance so much dialogue and narration was challenging.

6: What makes this fic special or different from all your other fics?

What makes it special, well, it's my first fanfic! I tried writing one for so long, about 4 years! And being able to finally write something and share it with others feels amazing and so relieving after so long.

7: Where did the title come from?

The title came from this song called Summer Nights by Siames! I think it suits Naruto and Sasuke perfectly! It's such a nice song, it always makes me cry when I listen to it haha.

8: Did any real people or events inspire any part of it?

Many, if not all interactions are based on me and my girlfriend's conversations! There are so many and she always points it out to me after reading the newest chapter.

9: Were there any alternate versions of this fic?

There was, actually! At first I wanted to write an AU canonverse version of the Akatsuki, where Naruto is exiled from the village and reunites with Sasuke. Because in this house we love evil Naruto and Kurama. But then I wanted to write something soft, something tender yknow?

Again, thank you so much for asking!!! <3

#my fanfic #sns fandom #sns fanfiction

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