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mochibrokenheart · 3 years ago

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SVSSS: Guardian of the Museum

Mobei Jun x Shang Qinghua

Word Count: 2,756

Summary: Of course there's ominous growling and destruction to the building on Shang Qinghua's first night as a museum curator. Of course there is! Besides being desperate to keep the job, he's not sure what possesses him to actually walk toward the dangerous situation. His survival instincts were better trained that! Except...wait a minute...the terrifying creature causing all the ruckus is actually the hottest thing he's ever seen???

My first contribution for Moshang Monsterfucking Month (and my first fic for the fandom in general!) Heavy on the monster part as the nsfw is not explicit. Who knew that it would be hard to write something short. Inspired by the Day 2 prompt: horny.

Also posted on my Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34305571

A nearby bell tolled at midnight just as Shang Qinghua locked up the museum for the night, which meant that he was officially off for the weekend. Being a party of one, he celebrated with a groovy victory dance while turning the key over in the lock.

There was a little click and he rattled the knob, checking that the door was properly locked—if anything was stolen or vandalized during the night, he would most definitely be blamed as the recent hire!

The job was an important stepping stone in his career path plan to being a rare artifacts curator. He really needed the experience. It was hard enough to land the job, so he wasn’t above looking neurotic by double, and triple, and quadruple checking everything before he left.

A chilly breeze tussled his hair and raised goosebumps down his neck. It was October, he supposed while drawing up his hood to block the chill, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to complain.

He was much to delicate for cold temperatures and would exercise his right to curse out the changing seasons. Of course, he could move somewhere further south, so that he wouldn’t have to put up with it anymore, but still!

The only good thing about the loss of summer was the bugs, he decided.

Clearly, Shang Qinghua was irresistible because bugs treated his blood like an all-you-can buffet. If only hot men thought the same. But alas.

Sighing, he turned up to admire the full moon, who seemed to sympathize with the sad state of his romantic affairs, being the moon and all. Something about it’s pale gray-white color naturally emoted a sad, longing reflection.

It was as he was looking up that he heard a growl, loud not because of its pitch—it was actually quite low and gravelly—but because it vibrated the very air around him.

Shit. Shit. He wasn’t equipped to deal with some beast! He had no weapons and there was no way his body was going to get the job done either. He was a delicate flower, just ask the bugs who always feasted on him!

He rummaged through his bag frantically for his phone. That was what the authorities were for.

Opening his phone, his mind was racing. Who did you call when there was a potentially wild animal on the loose? The police? Animal control?

Gasp! What if it turned out to be a demon?

…!!!

He didn’t have any shamans or priests on speed dial. There had never been a reason to until then but if it would save him, he’d buy up every type of religious necklace he could and wear them around his neck daily. It was like insurance—it never hurt to cover all of his bases.

While he was wasting time on the sidewalk, what appeared to be small bits of gravel drifted down from what seemed like the roof. Scurrying to get closer to the streetlight, which casted a circular light on the steps of the museum, Shang Qinghua bent down to get a closer look.

It felt dusty when he rubbed his pointer finger against his thumb and did match the shade of stone the building was…The new evidence presented a bit of dilemma. Yes, he was still itching to call somebody have them do the dangerous work, but at the same time, his boss might fire him if something happened to the museum under his watch.

“Well, if there’s more damage, I guess I’ll take a look,” he muttered. He clasped his hands together. “But please, take mercy on me, moon! I promise that if you get me out of this that my next erotica will be dedicated solely to you, and in very large print, so that my readers know the reach of your mystical power!”

His hands remained clasped high above his head as he waited. So far so good.

There was still the scary growls, of course, but those didn’t count because he wasn’t going to investigate that. It was absolutely common knowledge that people who investigated weird sounds always ended up dead, at least in horror movies, and that was all the proof he needed to wash his hands of it.

No, the only thing that could sway him from his crouch on the front steps was…was…

Tears shimmered in his eyes as more rubble was knocked off from the roof, the fine particles irritating his nose and causing him to sneeze.

Thoroughly betrayed, he used his sleeve to wipe at his nose. Forget the moon. Clearly the bond he felt had only been one-sided, and now he was obligated to actually suck it up and put himself in harms way.

The Shang Qinghua of five minutes ago would’ve screamed and called himself a fool. Why ignore those highly honed flight instincts?! Even the Shang Qinghua of the present was screaming and calling himself a fool when he took the first hesitant step inside.

It was deceptively quiet in the stairwell but that wasn’t enough to calm him. As the saying went, it was the calm before the shit storm and he was about to be right in the middle of it. How careless of him.

Just in case this was the end, he started to draft an epitaph—it’s not like anyone else would put in the same amount of effort.

His minor following would be too busy wailing about the permanent book hiatus; his boss would have their hands full dealing with insurance over the architectural damage; and that hot-and-cold cucumber bro of his would still be nagging him in the afterlife, criticizing him for his stupid plan when it ‘clearly would’ve been better to do such and such’. But back to him.

We are gathered here to mourn the passing of one Shang Qinghua, a bright hamster that was taken from Earth far too soon. His exhibit work was flawless, his knack for collections cataloging unrivaled. There was never a day without bountiful office supplies with him around. We thank him for his singular brave—foolish?—sacrifice in the name of historical value. Shang Qinghua is survived by several dying houseplants and the stray dog he usually fed on his way home from work.

There. That sounded as good as he was likely to get. Wait. No. He almost left out the most important part: the secret letter of last words meant only for cucumber bro’s eyes. Bro, if you’re reading this it’s because I died a terrible and scary death. Please take pity and wipe all of my search history. It was all for research, honest! It’s bad taste to judge a dead man.

The access door to the roof was large and imposing in front of him, even though there was still no noise coming from the other side. He was going to be mad and then relieved, in that exact order, if this turned out to be nothing.

He inhaled. Exhaled. Jumped around and shook his hands where they hung down beside the length of his body. He’d watched enough athletes—for research!—throughout his short life and getting loose always seemed to pump them up for competition. The same principle should apply here.

The door gave with a loud screech and he suspected that it wasn’t in regular use. Not that there was probably much to see up there anyway. Just roosting pigeons, stone slabs, and—

His mind went blank.

Crouching in the corner, so close to the edge that all it would take was a gust of wind to send him tumbling down, was some sort of winged creature. And the wings were massive things that arched up before curving downward completely over it’s back, the tips draped on the ground. Judging by how large they were, they had to be functional, which nearly caused him to wet himself.

He didn’t want to imagine that thing taking flight after him. Not that he would be exciting prey. Gods, this probably how a mouse felt when a hawk was flying overhead.

But it was the horns that really caught his attention. They were hulking black spirals and the sharp points were pointed right at him. Even in the poor light, it was obvious that they were pure black. Any other time, he might comment on how cool they actually were, how they were a cosplayer’s dream, but it wasn’t cool when it was a matter of life and death.

And he would most certainly die if those menacing horns and wings were any indication.

Trying to keep the element of surprise, he slowly let the door swing shut. Until a little bat started flew over squeaking, which caused him to squeak as well. The door hit the frame with a loud rattle. His body went heavy with fear and his eyes snapped shut, a natural prey response. He had never, ever been this scared.

Not patient enough for Shang Qinghua to turn around on his own, the creature flung him around to face it with an aggressive growl. And he had thought it was loud when he was on the sidewalk. Which wasn’t true at all. It was much louder and more intimidating when it was right in his face.

“Trespasser!” it growled, teeth clicking.

…Okay, so it could talk. Maybe this was a good thing. Now could grovel with it to spare him!

Blinking rapidly, he opened his eyes and looked up, up, up. It didn’t look as horrific from the front as it did the back. In fact, it had a humanoid appearance and was distinctly male. He was the hottest thing he’d ever seen, a total fantasy come to life. How the hell was he real?

His was incredibly tall, his huge wings proportional to his size now that he was standing up. Now that he saw them up close, Shang Qinghua noticed that they were a beautiful shade of blue that started out dark but lightened to pale blue once it reached the tips, which also had sharp spikes—Nails? Claws? He wasn’t well versed in anatomy—attached.

The top of his ears were pointy, too, just like the tops of the wings. Oh, and the horns! There were two of them, both pure, glossy obsidian, that sprouted out on either side of his temple, the bases thick and ridged as they spiraled like a ram’s. The only difference was that his horns were much larger. He could maul someone with those along if he wasn’t careful.

But now that he considered it more—even in times of crisis, he could multi-task when it really counted—the horns only added more to his attractiveness. They were intimating, sure, but also sexy, in a monsterfucking type of way. He gasped as a clawed hand wrapped around his throat. Yep, he could definitely get into the horns and claws. Mark him down as scared and horny.

The growling died down but sharp teeth were still on display, and there was a stylized tattoo-looking mark on his forehead. Despite the snarl, Shang Qinghua instinctively knew that his face was insanely attractive; it had to be to match the rest of him. Speaking of the rest of him…

He dropped down in front of him, making sure to drag his hands down that ripped physique and gave his massive pectorals a quick squeeze before he landed on his knees in a kneeling position.

His face was right in front of the creature’s impressive package, covered only by a flimsy loin cloth. It fluttered in the night breeze and he had to bite down on his finger to stop his depraved moaning. “Ff-forgive me, my good-demon-sir, but I swear I’m not trespassing. I’m a humble worker here at this museum.”

He quickly took out his employee badge to offer it up to the demon who barely gave it a glance. “Gargoyle,” it said in reply.

“Oh. I’m sorry but I don’t really know what you mean by that.” Wait, why did he say that? He didn’t want to get further in the demon’s bad side than he already was! “I mean no offense, of course. I’m sure gargoyles are absolutely lovely—”

“No,” he interrupted, his face smoothed out into blank slate. It made it harder to read him but Shang Qinghua quickly decided that it was alright. “I am a gargoyle, human. You may address me as Mobei Jun.”

Ohhh. Now that he mentioned it, his wings and horns could belong to a gargoyle. He knew that they were popular parts historical buildings that had a strong Western influence, which the museum did.

“And I am a king. Not a sir.”

Curse his authority kink. He was sure that any new fantasies he conjured up would be staring this particular king and Shang Qinghua as his servant.

“Of course, my king! You’re reeking of kingly handsomeness. As a lowly human, my apologies for the obvious mistake.” The gargoyle king didn’t make any move to acknowledge his words other than a slow blink, so he figured that it was all good. “Excuse me if this sounds rude, but what are you doing up here? And what was all the noise about?”

“Guardian. I was charged with the safety of this place by a war lord.” Jeez. So he’d been with the building for centuries at least, maybe even millennia.

There was a pause and he realized that he wasn’t going to answer the second question. It also seemed like the gargoyle king was waiting on him and a light bulb went off. “S-sorry again my king. I am Shang Qinghua. I am in charge of the rare artifacts inside of the building, so you may see me closing up most nights.”

The gargoyle king nodded sagely and he figured that the role must be acceptable to him. A loud sigh left him and his muscles relaxed just in the slightest way. He might survive this encounter yet. Ever better, survive and be able to go home and break out that new bottle of lube that he bought last week. There was plenty of new material to work with, that was for sure.

Then the gargoyle stepped back, giving him more space, which was actually the opposite of what he wanted. Feel free to punish him for earlier transgressions, king, especially if they were rough in a sexy way!

Unaware of his inner pleadings, he continued walking away to crouch back near the edge of the roof.

“Umm, be careful, king. It’s dangerous to be that close—”

“I am a king. Concerns such as that are not applicable,” he said, puffing up his chest. Those pecs! He might have to put in a request tomorrow to do more work on the roof. It was a crime that no one was admiring that body on a regular basis. “Leave. Return home. The circles under your eyes are hideous.”

He gasped, touching his bags. Rude! He had just finished a long shift and definitely wasn’t at his best. He was going to have to step up his game if he was going to tempt this gargoyle in the future. Trying his best not to show embarrassment, or disappointment, he agreed to leave.

“Whatever you want, my king. I’ll leave for now but if you need anything, I’ll be back tomorrow and the day after as well. In fact, every night, in case you need me.” Screw his weekend off. Who needed one of those when there was a hot gargoyle of legend serving as the guardian of the museum. Not him, that’s who.

He scrambled to his feet and bowed again for good measure. The door was open and he was across the threshold when his dream gargoyle muttered something. “Did you say something, my king?”

He cleared his throat and spoke gruffly. “The pigeons pooped in my hair.”

Suddenly, the growling from earlier made sense. No matter if you were human or gargoyle, having birds shit in your hair, especially hair as luscious as Mobei Jun’s, was bound to make anyone furious.

Determined to keep his laughs to himself if it was the last thing he did, he merely replied, “Yes, my king. I will make sure to chase them away from you next time.”

“See that you do.”

On cloud nine, Shang Qinghua grinned as he bounded down the stairwell. The gargoyle’s comment implied that there would be a next time. And he intended to romance the loincloth off (literally) of the serious gargoyle king.

Hope you all enjoyed! So happy to share this with everyone. Thanks for reading :)

#svsss #svsss fanfic #mobei jun #shang qinghua #moshang

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ashen-crest · 4 years ago

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TSS: The Funeral (Pt 1 of 2)

Okay, listen, I can explain-

Aspen’s a spirit. Aspen has conditional immortality. Emry is a human. Emry does not have conditional immortality.

Against my better instincts, I chose to explore that.

This ended up long, so I’ll split this scene into two posts. Part 1 is below.

Word Count: 882

TW/CW: death (NOT AN MC), heart attack, funerals

The Funeral, Part 1:

Emry leapt up from the chair as soon as he heard the front door open.

“Hey, Gigi!” he called, grinning at his own use of her hated childhood nickname. “Didn’t expect you back from work so soon.”

No one answered. He didn’t even hear footsteps come into the hall. The grin slipped off his face, and he bounded into the hall.

“Georgie?” he ventured again- and froze in his tracks. His older sister was standing at the entrance, one hand clutching the doorframe, her gaze unfocused. Tears dripped from her eyes.

He felt his heart drop down past his feet and through the floor.

“Georgie, what happened?”

Her eyes finally flicked up to him.

“It was Alek- Mr. Petrov-“

“The boathouse manager?”

Georgie swallowed.

“Heart attack, this morning. I couldn’t-,” her words broke at her lips, “I couldn’t do anything to help him-“

“Oh, I’m so sorry…”

Emry strode forward and wrapped his arms around her, and for once, she didn’t pull away or make fun of him. She leaned in and let go, her sobs a wrenchingly unfamiliar sound in the drafty hallway. The sound stunned him so much that he almost didn’t register his father entering the house, hunched and drawn. He set a hand on Georgie’s shoulder, and they all stood in the hall for a moment, not saying a word.

“I’ve spoken to the family.” His voice was rough when he finally spoke, and his glasses did a poor job of hiding the red rims around his eyes. “Emry, they- they weren’t sure if it was appropriate to ask a Guild member, but…they’ve requested that you perform at the service in two days’ time.”

“Of course.” Emry nodded over Georgie’s shoulder. “Absolutely.”

“Hey, Emry?” Aspen leaned towards him as they stood at the mouth of the forest path. “Why did they pick this fane? I already told them that there’s no spirit here anymore.”

“It’s where the Petrovs always pray,” Emry said quietly. “It wouldn’t feel right to use another place, even if there’s no spirit. Besides,” he nudged Aspen’s shoulder, “technically, you’ll be there.”

“Will I have to do anything?” Aspen watched other attendees pass by them on the path, all draped in mourning black.

“No, no. Just stand in between Georgie and Marley. They’ll appreciate it.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be by the family for the performance.”

Emry stretched his fingers while they walked, running through the piece in his mind. He was lucky enough to have performed the Senne mourning song only a few times in his life, and he was loathe to practice it- as if playing it unbidden would invite an actual need for it.

The Petrov’s favored fane was one of the smaller ones that dotted the pine-shaded outskirts of Senne. It was hardly more than a stone arch and a small platform beyond, built for modest weddings, funerals, and Sada performances. Emry recalled celebrating with the Petrovs here on Sada in years past- for Alek had been a key part of the Karic river business before he was even born- and eating pies with his family under the pine trees, listening to Alek’s booming laughter and bawdy songs. As soon as young Emry had picked up the lute, the man had encouraged him to perform a song or two each Sada, and clapped even harder than his own parents at the end.

He didn’t realize he had stopped walking to stare at the platform until his mother set a hand on his arm.

“Thank you for doing this, love,” she murmured. “Alek loved your voice, you know.”

Emry swallowed hard and tightened his grip on his lute.

“I know.”

One by one, the funeral attendees slipped their offerings into the cubbies carved into the stone archway, then passed under it to take a spot by the platform. Emry watched as Georgie and his father placed coins into a cubby. Marley and his mother offered flowers- orange and red, the traditional colors of a sunset- before continuing on under the archway.

“Aspen,” Emry reached into his pocket for two coins, “I’ve got a coin if you want to use it…”

Aspen shook their head, walked forward, and touched the archway. Each flower offering burst into life, blooming and cloning themselves until the entire stone structure was dripping with beautiful, fiery garlands.

Up ahead, Emry saw Mrs. Petrov burst into tears at the sight.

“Little Emry,” she said as he approached her at the platform- it was always little Emry, even though he had towered over her for years now-“I’m not sure what we’ve done to be so blessed by your spirit-“

“They’re not my spirit, and they’re just doing what they think is right,” he said gently. “It’s the very least that Mr. Petrov deserves.”

After a few more reassurances, he took his place behind the mourning family and waited for the service to begin. He glanced over at his own family- in the growing crowd, it was getting difficult to see them- and noted that Aspen had indeed taken the spot between Georgie and Marley, and was holding both their hands. More red and orange blooms trailed from the lute hanging off Aspen’s back.

“Are you ready?” Petrov’s son touched his shoulder. Emry looked away from Aspen and nodded.

#the stray spirit #tw: death #tw: funeral #tw: heart attack #emry karic #georgie karic #aspen the spirit

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blackfemmecharacterdependency · 4 years ago

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15. I Trust Him With My Life

The smell of flowers stirred her up. Flowers, coffee… and… books? She must have been dreaming, as those were a few of her favorite things. Her eyelids fluttered and she opened her eyes to see a few fuzzy images - Sunny and Simon in her hospital room, both with a book in front of them, but neither reading. Instead, they had been bickering softly and now, they were watching her, but neither of them moved.

See, Grace had done this several times in the days following her surgery - fluttered her eyes, even opened them, only to lose consciousness again a few moments later and well, after a while, they stopped rushing to her bed. But, this time, the eyes were focusing on them and didn’t appear to be closing. “It’s happening,” Sunny said, shutting her book and getting up. Simon waited, though.

Grace took a deep, pained breath and looked at her hand. His note was still there. For a moment, she smiled a little, and then she remembered all over again that she had been shot. She gasped and reached for her wound, then winced in pain when she moved.

Simon shut his book now, too and set it aside and rushed to help Sunny adjust the pillows beneath Grace’s body. He grabbed a thermos and told her, “Doctor said that you could have a little coffee, so I picked up your favorite kind from the bookstore, some books from your yearly goal list… And flowers from your florist. Everybody was really helpful and sent their love and their get well things.”

She turned around to look and noticed the warm colored vibrant assortment of flowers. “Thank. Goodness. You didn’t get red poppies again.”

Sunny tilted her head and looked at Simon, “You got red poppies? Why on earth did you get red poppies?”

“I saw her with them before, so I thought that she liked them.”

Sunny winced. Saw her. She knew exactly what that meant. Whenever he was stalking her and either was too insecure or she didn't strike him as interested enough, he spied on her and misunderstood something that they used to mourn.

'Flower Boy' Heath used to steal them from stores and gardens whenever they lost somebody on the streets. He'd seen them at his father's funeral when he was little, and told his mom that they were super pretty. Why was she crying so much when so many people were at his Daddy's Going Home Celebration, and who could cry while such pretty flowers were everywhere? “That only had made her cry harder,” Heath would tell whoever was asking about why he stole flowers for dead friends. "I didn't get it. Death isn't pretty. It's cold, sad, and lonely. That’s why she was crying. But my dad embraced his death whenever he signed up for the military, and I like to think he met it with a brave heart and courageous mind. I'd like to think that we all will meet it that way. I don't like to cry about it. Instead, pay respects." And, he sort of… kept that tradition up over the years and spread it to his friends.

Whenever they went to pay their respects, they did so with red poppies, in memory of their friends. Most of them didn't even like to see red poppies any other time, because they were flowers they had associated with deceased friends for many years.

Sunny shuddered at what Grace must have felt when this boy handed her some of those damn flowers… “You’ve… researched them since then though, right?" She wondered.

“I have.” He leaned next to Grace on the bed and offered her a little smile, “I hope I've done well this time.”

But, she wasn’t looking at the red, orange and gold arrangement as she cooed, “You were amazing.” He blushed. Sunny rolled her eyes off to the side, out of both their view.

Simon rubbed the back of his neck and smiled, “I did what anybody who cared about you would do.”

“Who’d have thought that I, of all people would need a white knight?”

He scoffed, “That’s not what happened at all. You’re a warrior queen, who just so happened to need a general in that moment, when your… Court fled . May I just say this? I really think that you should reconsider the policy of leaving each other to die in the event of a life threatening injury.”

“Simon…”

“Grace…”

“One fallen soldier can’t compromise the entire troop.”

“You’re not some fallen soldier, Grace.” He looked very serious for a moment, as his fingertips seemed to ache to touch her, but he denied himself that.

They had a lot to go over before he could touch her again. There had been some betrayal, invasion of privacy, abandonment, and general toxicity between them. Sure, he saved her life. He loved her, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew that wasn’t just going to fix everything that had occurred between the two of them.

Even if just this once, his obsession worked out in her favor; she had been upset by initially finding out the extent to which he had been following and watching her and he had not come through with a justification for this. Nor could he think of one, and as much as she wanted to trust him again and to love him openly, he knew that would always be in her mind. But, she was not "one fallen soldier."

“When we’re out there, yes I am.” She seemed to think that was the end of it.

He fumed, “I refuse to accept that.”

She frowned and looked down at her body, “Hardly matters now. I won’t soon be back in the field.”

“You deserve a break,” Sunny chimed in. Grace and Simon both looked at her, like they had only just remembered that she was still there.

“The fact that the X gets a proper sending off instead of a sentence in the Field of Nulls makes me want to break something…”

“Everyone needs a break,” Simon said, turning his attention back to Grace. “That detective definitely is suspicious of us. I think that they’ll be watching, waiting, and pounce on anything we do.”

“We?” Sunny said, and scoffed a little, before looking at Grace with a confused expression.

“We.” Grace and Simon both said it at the same time, then smiled slightly at each other. Grace turned to Sunny and said, “I know that we don’t usually allow outsiders with us, but considering the circumstances - how Simon has helped us over the past few months and him literally saving my life, I think that as the leader, it’s my responsibility to make sure that he’s taken care of, just like the rest of us.”

“You trust this O as an ally?”

Grace voice was stern. “His name is Simon, and I trust him with my life.” Grace reached for Simon's hand and his entire countenance shined as their fingers met, testing each other's tips before sliding into place, woven together. Sunny stared at their hands and quickly went through a range of expressions as she tried to access what the appropriate reaction was to this. Uncertain, she forced a smile and bid them farewell. She had no idea how she might present this change to the group, but she at least knew that she would have to speak to Xander, immediately.

Grace had bigger changes on the horizon. For one, Her parents put her up in their guest house for her recovery, with a nurse on hand, and Simon was the only person who visited her every day. She forbade everyone to come to the guest house while she was in this state, but as per use, Simon didn’t respect that request, and she wasn’t going to tell her parents about their… questionable beginnings, so she decided that it was easier to just let him come around whenever he pleased, as she wasn’t in any condition to fight with him. She wasn’t even in condition to walk. She would do the minimum recommended to keep her from getting blood clots, and the rest of the time, she spent in a chair. Simon was there every moment that he could be and became her only real contact for the moment.

Grace tried to be flippant with him, to ignore him at times and even snap on him to get him to back off and leave her, but it didn’t prove to be working and she only felt bad later, when she realized that she was hurting him for nothing. Simon wasn’t about to turn his back on her. She would have to break some type of key rule for that to happen, and why did she want him to leave so badly, anyway? Why was she so committed to pushing everyone away and withering in this place with a hole in her body?

What was making her feel so alone and detached? What was making her accept that feeling and embrace it? She had nightmares every night, but now, she would wake up in a frenzy AND in physical pain. Simon would wake up too, do everything in his power to help her calm down and get some more sleep, to help her address her wound and get some pain relief… to help her feel cared for, and safe, and not alone… It didn’t feel fair to her. It felt… like she had taken a lot from this person and was still taking from him. The worst part was that she felt like she needed to take more. She couldn’t do this alone.

Whenever Simon woke up in the morning, Grace wasn’t in bed. He furrowed his eyebrows, looked at the openness of the windows of the guesthouse bedroom, and noticed that her chair was gone.

Whenever he found her, she was in her meditation garden, sitting with her feet in the dirt and Samantha and Hazel were both with her, eating the kinds of grasses they liked. She had been mindful to make sure there was stuff that they could eat there and added more that she felt that they might want to try. Simon was going to leave, but she sensed him coming and turned suddenly, of course, hurting herself as she did. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you…” He looked around, “Where is your chair?”

“THE chair,” she corrected (not her chair, she hated that thing), “Is in the lake.” Simon looked towards the lake that her parents’ estate was near. It was close enough for him to walk, but it was further than Grace tended to walk in her condition. Still… if she was frustrated and determined enough… maybe. He went to check. It was… near the lake, but not in it. He went to retrieve it and realized it was stuck on some rocks. Just as well. Sure, Grace’s parents could afford replacing anything, but replacing something that was perfectly fine felt wrong. Especially because she needed it all the time.

The last time Grace tried to walk further than usual, she became lightheaded, lost her balance, tripped, fell, vomited and angry cried that she had such a bad reaction to pushing herself beyond reasonable limits. Then, she was upset and didn’t want him to help her, but had to let him because she just… couldn’t. She locked him out of the guest house. He camped out on the veranda and worked on a new story.

After three days, she unlocked the door and when he came in to check on her, she told him he smelled bad and needed a shower. After the shower, she began talking about art and wouldn’t let him get a word in to ask her about her feelings. Since then, Simon noted that she didn’t let him see her out of the chair and he presumed that she was too worried about another situation where she would look weak or get sick - so the fact that she had both rolled her wheelchair down this hill and went elsewhere was hard to believe and a little bit troubling. She was clearly having one of the episodes that had come along with her injury. They were exhausting, but Simon at least felt needed whenever she had them. The more that she insisted that she didn’t need him was usually the more that she did.

He dragged the wheel back to the garden, wondering if maybe it had gotten stuck and she didn’t have the strength to pull it up, therefore presumed it rolled into the lake, or if she was so disgusted with it today and that tried to send it splashing into the lake and it got stuck instead. At any rate, she looked like she didn’t want to talk about it and she was at peace for the moment, so he just put it where it usually sat when she was in this little garden. He noticed some damages that were probably brought on by her beating the thing with a weapon, as she was known (by anybody who watched her obsessively) to do. He figured he could fix it. In the meantime, she had a stick that she was calling a cane and she was using that to help her around.

“Good news! It didn’t go into the lake.”

“Yayyy…” She said sarcastically and scooped up Hazel. She grabbed her “cane” and began to walk back towards the guest house. Samantha followed behind her and Simon came in with the chair. Just that walk made Grace tired and she set Hazel down on the floor and went to wash up and check her wound. When it came time that she needed help, she cried as quietly as she could, and heard Simon knock softly. Of course he was right outside waiting for her to need him.

“Come in,” she said and they didn’t talk about what went wrong or the fact that she absolutely was doing too much and that was why she needed help getting out of the bath and into her clothes right now. They just… went with it. The first couple of times had been a little awkward, but Simon was very mission oriented and rarely made her feel the way that he knew that she felt.

She was trying to get comfortable, but there weren’t many options on that front. Having actively avoided guns for years, she had never known the extent of the damage that they could do. She’d seen gun violence, but it had been shoot to kill situations and as far as she knew, those who survived, she never talked to about these things OTHER THAN the burning hole in the flesh. The tissue, muscle, and bone damage one little bullet could cause when ejected from such a dangerous little contraption. She had been terrified of them after Todd’s execution. The PTSD of seeing that flooded over her after Heath’s. But THIS, she figured that even if her body ever went back to some semblance of normal, her brain never would.

Why couldn't she be as desensitized to gunshots as she was to murdering Xs? She felt like that should haunt her more, but it never had. The stewards were never real people. They were, but they weren’t. They forfeited their humanity when they dehumanized the children that they stole, bought and sold. But those children, in her mind, would always be human. Nothing that any of those Apex kids could ever do to strip them of the humanity they fought tooth and nail to reclaim after being product, and when they bled and died, it was tragedy. She didn’t want to feel sorry for herself, but the fact that the man who introduced her to such a hard reality was able to injure her felt like injustice. It was an insult added to the injuries from a universe that seemed to hate her… and her friends had turned against her, too. Those were the thoughts that she let lull her to sleep.

Whenever she had gotten into bed, he was reluctant to leave her by herself. The next day, he would move some of his things in. Fortunately, he always had a couple of weeks worth of things in his car, waiting for when he needed them here. He brought everything he had in the car in whenever she went to sleep and began to personalize the spaces that he usually occupied whenever he was over.

Grace noticed the next day, and he could have sworn he saw a little sparkle in her eyes whenever she did. She didn’t comment about it beyond, “Somebody’s getting comfy.”

Grace still didn’t completely feel that her Apex family could be trusted. After everything that went down behind her back while she was in Canada, she was still in the mindset that she didn’t know what any of them were thinking.

She often woke up crying, admittedly, because of the thoughts she allowed to settle in her mind before she went to sleep. It was all so, so… exhausting to face. She wanted to have something to center her thoughts, if nothing could take them away, and all that would happen was she would push them out of her reach until she was too tired to move, then they would all just trickle back down and engulf her, more powerfully than before. Hearing her cry, Simon stirred she shuffled away from him, trying to get out of bed and away from him before she woke him up too. She was nearly there when she felt his hand catch her wrist. She gasped and looked at him. He was holding her a little too tight and even in just moonlight, she could see his features, though she couldn’t tell what kind of expression he wore. “I have to go to the bathroom,” she said. He let go and turned over on his other side. That was… odd, but maybe he was just not fully conscious.

She went into the bathroom and stared into the mirror for longer than she planned. Not crying or thinking about hardships, just noting her features.

Eventually, his soft knock came on the door. She cracked it open and saw him, concerned and fully awake now. “Do you need anything?” He wondered. Meanwhile, Samantha crept through the opening and climbed on the sink, to look at herself, too. Grace collected her and handed her to Simon.

“I just wanted some time to myself.”

He looked hurt, but he said, “Okay. Want us to go home?” She bit her lip and looked off to her thoughts. She was weighing what that would mean. She would have some alone time, but she still would be restless and more than likely, Simon probably had cameras in this place, too. He wouldn’t go home. He’d probably go to the apartment and keep watch. Even if he did go home, she would presume that he was in the apartment watching her, and that would be worse than him being here.

“Do you have cameras in here?” she finally asked. She turned and stared at him, bracing herself on the sink. He froze and was holding Samantha a little too tightly. To the point that she screeched and hopped out of his grasp and rushed into hiding. Grace’s face softened and she came closer, cooing, “Hey. It’s okay. I get it. Your love language is a little bit different than what a lot of us are used to. It’s not like you spend every moment of every day in front of those cameras. But, here’s the thing, Simon…” He stared at her, being mindful of every word that she was saying, grateful that her reaction wasn’t anger… because truth be told, he really shouldn’t have brought cameras in here and he really didn’t mean to, but she was injured and she wasn’t in the best headspace. Keeping an eye on her was crucial! Sure, he had an excuse for every time he wanted to spy on her, but this was different. This really was different and he felt honored that she wasn’t going to fight him on it. “I need some real and true alone time. Not very long, but long enough for me to work some things out. So, how about this? I’ll go to your house tonight and you stay here. That way, I can get some rest in a familiar space and you can be away from your surveillance station.”

“That won’t work.” Just agree to it! “I have access to my cameras here and I have cameras in my house..” Why would you make this harder?

“If you tell me that you won’t look at them, I’ll believe you.”

Just agree to that! “I can’t tell you that. I’d be lying. If you’re in a house that size, by yourself, with this injury and your stubbornness to take the proper care of yourself, how can I not check in?” She looked angry. “I’m not going to lie to you, Grace. I mean… not on purpose… Not this way.” This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up………………………… “I can’t let you get hurt again.” He started crying and stepped back, to leave and give her some space. She found him on the stairs, getting into his shoes and sniffling.

“What makes you feel like you’ve gotta keep me from getting hurt, Simon?”

He blinked away some tears and shook his head, “The reason that I gave myself for ever resorting to cameras was because I needed to make sure that you had proper support. I told myself it was for your safety, and if I enjoyed it along the way, well, that was simply a nice reward for making sure you were protected. And… I didn’t even protect you. You were self isolating, your friends alienated you, and you were so in your own head from this X that I brought you that you weren’t thinking clearly. I should have been there with you, not lurking in the shadows, and not waiting until it got bad. I should have did the thinking. I should have plotted something out. I knew that your team was shaky and I knew that you were rusty from your hiatus. I should have done more. I’m not gonna do that again. I’m not talking myself out of what makes sense to me just to get nuggets of satisfaction and crumbs of pleasure.”

She sat next to him on the stairs and placed her hands over his, making him stop with the shoes. He looked at her and she was just looking at his feet, unable to make eye contact just yet. “I made promises too. I made promises to about a thousand kids, and in the past few years, I’ve only made good on a few dozen. I’m at a point in life where… I don’t think I will make good on all those promises. I don’t think that I can. So, I get it. I understand how stressful it can be to take up things and be expected to handle them. But, Simon…” She finally looked up at him, “You made that promise to yourself. We’re the easiest people for us to lie to. Because, if we don’t reach our goals, we know what it takes to forgive us. We aren’t constantly battling for acceptance from ourselves the way that we do for others. So, maybe you didn’t do what you intended to, what you promised yourself that you would do, but you did more than you should have, and to be honest, you might not have protected me - which is already a fool’s errand - but you fucking saved me.

When I went down, my thought was - this is it. I’m dead. I knew that they would leave, as is the procedure, and I knew that I would die there…. Then, I didn’t. Because of you. You don’t owe me anything else. You don’t owe yourself anything else. Some things are just out of our control.”

“Is that the advice that you’re giving yourself about those thousand promises you made?” She pulled him towards her by the hand and wrapped him around herself like a sweater. “Because, if it applies to me, it definitely applies to you. You never did anything to hurt those kids, and the moment that you were able, you tried to. You deserve to never have to think about it, ever again.”

“They deserve something. If not justice, vengeance, if not vengeance, closure, if not closure, compensation, but they deserve SOMETHING for the years that not only the stewards took, but the ones that I took. Why… why didn’t we just disband? Why did I think that when the stewards were gone, that meant that it was up to me to lead them?”

“Because you were a kid and the past previous years had changed you in ways that children shouldn’t have to be changed.”

“If they had gone elsewhere when the warehouse fell, instead of staying with me… Todd would never have been killed. His parents wanted him back. If I had brought him to a cop or something, he might have been able to go back to them. He would be getting ready to go to college. Jalicia would have probably been able to go to real school early enough to actually KNOW material. Alexandria would have had art teachers through school and probably went to art school, like she wanted to… Xander wouldn’t have tried so many drugs…”

“You don’t know those things. You don’t know if any of that is true.”

“Anything had to be better than living on an abandoned train with me for years and then me vanishing for a year, leaving even more of them confused. Some of them left then, found homes, or were picked up and placed. Fortunately, they got Lucy and Lindsay out pretty early. But, a lot of them just deferred to Xander, and when he was unable, they deferred to Sunny. I had to come back and tell all of these kids that I was wrong, that we had been doing things in a misinformed way and I couldn’t even be there with them to help them figure out their own paths. I failed them all, and myself, and the one thing that I agreed to do to make it right, to give them SOMETHING for everything that I got wrong for them… That’s been cut short.”

Simon wrapped his arms tightly around her. “I’ll help you. I’ll do whatever needs to be done to get this burden off of your heart…”

The group knew that they wouldn’t be going on any missions any time soon, but while on hiatus from hunting Xs, Simon’s ultimate goal was to make them all the best that he could make them at their responsibilities. Simon had been entrusted with touching base with each member of Grace’s “court,” so to speak, in order to help them better do the things that they were tasked to do.

The first day that he walked in, they had been texted by Grace of the when and where to meet - the bungalow, at a specified time, but they had not been briefed that Simon would be there, nor that Grace would not be. So, whenever he entered the bungalow, with a key they all stared at him for a moment, expecting maybe Grace was right behind him (as they had known that she was shacked up with him), but Simon went directly into speaking, “Okay, so tonight is gonna be short and simple. I’m sending out the training schedules and drill runs for the next month, and answering whatever pertinent questions you may have about the operation so affectionately called Date Night. I intended to have something like a syllabus prepared, but Grace has been having some trouble sleeping, making that our top priority during this portion of her recovery process…” He looked over at Jalicia, who had her hand raised. “Is that what we do? We raise hands to speak?” They all just looked at each other, except for Sunny. She was still staring at Simon and the key that he was still clutching as he spoke. There were Apex members who didn’t even have a key to this bungalow. ONLY her closest members. Her most trusted companions. Her Court, as Simon called it… Where did he fit in on that court?

Jalicia was asking questions about what type of training and drills would they be expected to learn, as she had spring semester to think about and her agenda was a little bit more full than last fall. She was treating it exactly like she was in a classroom or something, because she was confused about what was happening, and he sounded pretty certain.

Simon spoke pretty gently to her, looking over the schedule in her phone with her and pointing out where he had already gotten that information from Grace and had taken it into consideration whenever he had set the training schedules. “Mostly, I’ll need maybe a week or two for you to show me what you do and how you do it, and I am gonna take what you’ve shown me, sprinkle my… intellectuality onto it, and then help you to optimize your technique. Disposing of Xs is not a life sentence, Apex.” Xander twitched when he heard Simon say that word. “It's something that none of you seem to wish to walk away from, but it should have an expiration date, and all of you should be able to live lives outside of the shadow of these things. For the time being, I’m here to help reach that goal, but I can’t be positive of how long it'll take us, until I’ve evaluated everyone’s contributions to the operation and established an endgame.”

“That sounds like a lot of power to be given to an O, just for catching one body in Grace’s name…” Xander said.

Simon stepped towards him and he rushed towards Simon, but Sunny stepped in front of Xander and tilted her head at him. He paused, considering whether she was taking Simon’s side or protecting him.

“He has a key to the bungalow, and it sounds to me like he also has Grace’s ear and her tongue. You’d better think real hard on whether or not you want that back, and act accordingly,” Sunny warned.

Simon smiled, “Thank you, Sunetra.”

“We’re here for Grace, Timonthy.”

“We’re sticking with that one, I guess?”

“I’m not sure what you mean, Mr. La’Dont.” Xander sulked, but knew that Sunny was right. To Xander's begrudging satisfaction, Simon was more efficient in some of the areas they needed help with, and Grace had clearly sent him to represent her wishes for this meeting.

Sunny was still giving him shit, obviously, but she knew when to listen up, because Simon speaking is basically Grace speaking, now. She knew that it might take Grace a moment to let them back in after December’s antics. The best way that she might get back to good with Grace was starting to look like Simon. “At any rate,” she added on, after teasing him, “Whatever you need, you may know that Xander is Grace’s right hand and I am her left. Whatever she has you doing, I know that I’ll be backing you and I’m sure Xan will do it too.”

“I’ll hate every moment of it,” Xander admitted, forcing a smile.

“Growth can be painful,” Simon said.

Ignoring the sound of rustling as Xander advanced on him again, with Sunny and Jalicia physically intervening, Simon asked the only one who hadn’t reacted or said a single word, “Alexandria, anything that you need to express concerns about?” He turned to the quiet tattooed woman and she looked nervous to have attention on her. “We were a little bit curious about why you hadn’t come to the hospital or the guest house yet.” 'To see Grace' was implied.

“She doesn’t want to see me. The rest of them are on her nerves always trying to grovel for her, and she doesn’t want to see them, either. That’s why you’re here. When Grace wants to see me, she’ll send for me.” She folded her arms, flustered by the attention on her. She figured that Simon probably HATED her for the fake art trap, but Grace may be mad about a lot of things, but she wasn't going to let anybody punish her friends.

Nobody but her, that is - with her silence and refusal to see them. With sending him, HIM of all people to run point with them in her absence… maybe even HE had taken control of the Apex, completely. Grace flitted from thing to thing and paid or assigned others to do stuff like planning, but she usually approved every plan she believed in and none of this even sounded like her. "She knows where to find me whenever she needs me. She always knows."

"Fair enough," Simon said. He didn’t want to even be here with these people after how they had tried to set him up, but Grace loved them and the same way that she wasn’t going to allow them to hurt him; she wasn’t going to allow him to hurt them either.

But, seeing Alexandria's face and having her acting like HE did HER something was frustrating and the last thing he was going to do while assimilating them to getting used to him as virtually Grace’s second in command, was to be angry at each other, argue, or fight. "I'll see you all tomorrow."

“Whoa, that’s it?” Jalicia wondered. “How’s Grace?”

Jalicia was the one that Simon was the LEAST irritated with. He knew that she wouldn’t have left Grace of her own accord and he didn’t really believe that she had anything to do with setting him up for Xander, either. She was the only person in this room whose teeth he didn’t want to kick in for… everything that had happened. And after watching her and seeing her constant pain, the only one that still he felt bad for. “She’s recovering. She loves all of you.” He gave her a squeeze to the shoulder and Sunny noted that maybe Jalicia would be a doorway back to Grace. Simon had pretty clearly favored her tonight.

They hung back to discuss what had just taken place. The last thing that Simon heard was Xander fuss, "She's shutting us out!" Simon could not help but to smile to himself about that.

She was curious to know how it went and Simon gave her all of the details, sprinkled with his own disdain, accordingly. He still was angry with them for leaving her. Even though he wasn’t saying that, Grace knew.

She didn’t blame them for leaving, at all. Had they brought her to the ER, or stuck around, it might not have been as easy to get the stories straight and to get them out of trouble, the way it was for Simon. He had more privilege when it came to legal matters than anybody in that van, and with their past records and their deviations from normalcy, not to mention they weren’t financially elevated like the Monroes or even Simon… It was the smart thing for them to leave, and it was why that WAS a rule, in the first place. It was far too risky to everyone else and the entire operation if they all faced charges because one person fell behind.

But, she couldn’t shake the fact that she had felt so compelled to rush towards the X and risk it all, because she thought her time with the Apex was beginning to wane. She couldn’t help but blame it on her state of mental confusion and distraction from the mutiny of them trying to hurt Simon. Then, that reminded her that one of the main reasons she was even away for weeks, was because they had such strong opinions of how unsafe Simon was and that she had followed the advice from her friends and let go of someone who literally became a murderer to keep her safe.

That shouldn’t feel so good. She knew that, but… the people who were willing to kill for her had all been so fucked up for so long that she… well… she still felt like they were human, but like they were… humans who were set apart from ones like Simon. Simon was supposed to be part of a completely different world. Simon was supposed to be good and wholesome, but because he made some… poor choices, she had turned on him and he was the only person who cared about her without being tied to the same trauma… and… now… he was tied to it.

“I hope you aren’t thinking about me while making that face,” Simon interrupted her thoughts. She glanced at a nearby mirror and saw how wrinkled her forehead was, then took a deep breath and forced a smile. Simon wrapped his arms around her ankles and rubbed her foot, “Do you want to tell me about it?”

“I’m sorry that I’ve pulled you into… my world.”

“I pushed my way in,” he said. She pulled her feet back and held her wound. He quickly let go and worried that he might have hurt her.

“You tiptoed in, and I left the door open, hoping that you would.” She laid on her side, facing away from him. “I turned you into a stalker and a killer in less than a year’s time.”

Simon snuggled up to her and wrapped an arm around her, speaking directly into her hair, “You’ve helped me to become a hero. I protected a queen, and I slayed a dragon.”

“We aren’t in Esmoroth, Simon.”

“Damn straight, we aren’t. These monsters are real.”

“I’m no queen. I’m an angry girl that wanted revenge and I got my dumbass shot.” She sniffled, “I almost died, I can’t walk, and I don’t know if my friends still want or need me.”

“You’re justifiably angry, and I’m thankful that you didn’t die, but I would be lying if I said that I’m not a little bit happy that you…” She turned around quickly and winced, but kept her focus on his face. “Happy that you are taking a break from battle. I hate that it happened this way.” She snuggled into him and let him hold her until she fell asleep. She was too tired to respond to that yet. At least she was starting to get some sleep at night.

16. Faith in Grace

#AU Infinity Train #Infinity Train #Nesha Fanfiction #Infinity Train Fanfiction #fics #People Watching

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lawandorderforevercsi · 4 years ago

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Their Feelings Chapter 4: Wedding

Disclaimer: I don't own Forever, the show belongs ABC.

May 19, 2017

It was seven pm, and their wedding reception was in full swing full of music, dancing, food and of course the alcohol.

During the planning, Henry found out that Jo's and Sean's wedding was at City Hall and with minimal financial help. Henry knew this time Jo deserved the best of the best. He suggested they have it the Ritz Carlton Hotel. Jo protested, but Henry said, "We all live frugally, but sometimes it is good to indulge. It is also my job to make your dreams come true."

There were two groups of guests. The first group included her mom, her sister Gabriela's plus her family, Abe, Hanson, Reece, and Lucas. The only family who didn't show was her brother Emiliano. Emiliano decided not to come because he was upset that not Jo nor Gabriela nor his mother would talk to their father or visit him. It hurt at first, but she decided that immediate family and work-family she come to love and depend on was there and that was what mattered.

The second group was the extended family, like the cousins she never knew she had and relatives that she hadn't seen so long ago. They all asked about Henry, and she stuck to the story that Henry and Abe were business partners.

As they celebrated, Jo observed Henry as he mingled with the guests. Her love for him was unexplainable. Not like she wanted to explain it, she just knew it was true love. Yes, she did love Sean, but this love was on a whole different level.

As the party continued, Jo smiled as she remembered the vows they had just promised each other a few hours ago.

As they stood at the altar, Jo smiled as she saw how Henry stared at her. She knew that she made the right choice in the gown, which showed not only some leg, but it was off the shoulder, hugged her body, and show off her figure, which she knew Henry loved. She was glad she decided to forgo the veil and used a flower tucked behind her ear, like when he proposed. Then again, she couldn't take her eyes off of him. He looked so handsome and debonair in his tuxedo while it was the causal version of what she had seen in her dream a few years ago.

The minister said, "Now Jo and Henry have written their vows they would like to recite to each other. Go ahead, Jo."

Jo squeezed Henry's hands and began, "Henry, after I lost Sean, I thought I would never find love again. Then I met you at the morgue for the subway collision case. You unnerved me at first, but they quickly grew to admiration and trust as time went on. After our partnership nearly came to an end, I am glad it didn't. You demonstrated there is that love can be found I can love again even when I didn't think it was possible after Sean's death. While that trust was almost broken for good, I am glad it wasn't. Henry, my love for you, will only grow from here on out, I love you forever."

Henry smiled. He took one hand up to her face and, with his thumb, wiped a tear that was falling down Jo's beautiful face. Henry inhaled and exhaled and started talking, "Jo, like what you said, I too thought I was never going to find love ever again after Abigail. But at that moment you came to the morgue, and while I was amazed at your beauty, both inner and outer, and most importantly, your intelligence. I stayed away for a long time because I knew you were still in mourning. But it wasn't long before I realized how much I had fallen for you. Jo, in front of our guests and the minister, I swear to you my love and loyalty."

She was shaken from her trance when she saw trouble brewing. The trouble was in the form of her cousin, Consuela Villagara. Consuela (or Suela to her family) was big flirt. While she was attracted to intelligent men, she attracted the wrong type of man every single time. This time she was all over Henry (as she had done the same with Sean).

With determination, Jo marched over to the scene in question. She said in a slight menacing voice, "You know Suela, you need stop coming on to married men, especially if they are married to me."

Consuela jumped back and acted like a kid caught with her hand in a cookie jar, "But Jo, how is it you always find the good ones, first Sean now Dr. Morgan?"

Jo softened and said, "You need the confidence to find a man worthy of you."

With that, Jo was able to lead her husband away. When they were far enough away, Henry swept his wife up in a kiss that showed his undying love. When they parted lips, he said, "Thanks for coming to my aid. I was beginning to think I would never be able to escape her clutches."

Jo looked at her husband. She whispered, "My pleasure Dr. Morgan, just need to be even more careful…"

With her fingers in his hair, she said in a voice dripping with sensual intent, "…especially, you are mine forever."

Henry had breathed deep. He was most certainly looking forward to their wedding night and their honeymoon. After exchanging another heated kiss, they returned to the reception. Now hours later, after more cake cutting, dancing, and bouquet toss and garter. It was at this time they noticed that Consuela and Lucas gravitated towards each other and after they were recipients of the respective tosses. Both Henry and Jo knew they would need to keep an eye on the two, just in case.

After being showered with rice, they were finally on their way to start their lives as Dr. and Mrs. Morgan. The moment they entered the elevator, they were on each other, kissing with light feather touches and caresses. Thankfully their ride up didn't make any stops, so they continued in their blissful make-out session.

When the elevator dinged, Henry broke the kiss but held on to Jo's hand. He leads her to the room. When they reached the door, Henry brought out the key card and handed it to his wife. With his arms around her, Jo opened the door. However, before they could enter, Henry said, "I believe it's my first duty as your husband to carry you over the threshold."

Before Jo could say anything, Henry swept her off her feet and carried over the threshold. Before he set her down, hung the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the front knob, closed and locked the door. Turning to Jo, he walked to her and pulled her in for a sweet and loving kiss. Jo wrapped her arm around him and deepened the kiss. A few moments later, she broke the kiss and whispered, "I am going to go and get ready for a surprise that is for your eyes only. I won't take long."

While his wife freshened up, Henry began to get ready for their night. He had just taken off his formal wear when he heard, "Oh Mr. Morgan, are you ready for your surprise?”

When Henry followed the voice to the room went in, his mouth dropped. Jo is sitting on the petal decorated bed in an erotic position wearing revealing lingerie. The top barely covered her chest matched with barely there panties. Not that it mattered as he was about to take it off of her.

He quickly shed the last of his clothing and was only in a muscle shirt and a tight boxer, got on the bed, pulling her to him and crashed his lips with hers. Jo responded quickly and wound her arms around his neck and soon had her hand in his dark brown hair. Henry was no slouch as he let his hands roam and had his hands all over her body. When a need for air came about, he said in a teasing, "Tonight Mrs. Morgan, I will show you just how much I love and adore you."

Now fully aroused, Jo whispered, "Go ahead, Mr. Morgan, I am waiting."

Nearly three years after their initial meetings, it was them stopping the dancing and giving into their feelings that led to their happy day as they now look forward to the new chapter in their lives.

A/N: Thanks for reading the second chapter of "Their Feelings".

#forever #jo martinez #Alana de la Garza #henry morgan #ioan gruffudd

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ardent-musings · 4 years ago

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The Girl Who Vanished (Part 1)

Chapter 22: The Toothless Lion and the Jaded Snake

A month had gone by since her discussion with the twins in the owlery and the boys kept their promise. Multiple times their breakfast would be interrupted by the Slytherin captain throwing up his meal, or he would enter the common room with a new hair color. It seemed like it was something new every other day and the boy was distraught. He was no longer boastful as he walked through the halls, but he would silently glare at anyone and anything as he heaved and grumbled about. It was beautiful. And Ana would have the Weasley boys to thank.

Aeron had finally perked up; once he noticed that no one, not even Alex was trying to kick him out of the group, he beamed with appreciation. Also, the sight of his enemy crawling across the floor because he had been hit by the Jelly-Legs Jinx was hard to not laugh at. That was all she wanted. She wanted the boy who had hid himself for months to break out of his shell. And he was.

The four of them were sitting together in Herbology; Aeron and Ana together while Alex was with Calista. Professor Sprout looked as warm as ever underneath her large hat while she smiled softly at the girl she had grown to care deeply for. It was unusual for her to have a student such as Ana, and that only made the day even more splendid for the grayed witch.

The class went over the medicinal Fluxweed plant; another plant that Ana's mother grew year round in their garden. It was a key ingredient in her medicine, so Ana had grown very familiar with the common weed. She spent an hour planting and watering for both her and Aeron, who refused to get his hands messy; though Ana didn't mind. Aeron kept her company well enough as he began talking about some old revolution they had learned in their last history lesson. The course material was yawn-worthy and yet the budding boy had a way of making it interesting. After laughing with Aeron until the end of their lesson, she was starving and only had dinner on her mind. As soon as class ended she was already chatting with Alex about the upcoming Quidditch tryouts when the kind voice of her professor called for her. Without hesitating, Ana gallivanted towards her favorite teacher with glee, encouraging her friends to go on without her.

"It's good to see you in such a good mood, Ana. I'm assuming that the sleeping potion has been helping?" The woman hummed as she held one of the young girl's hands in between both of her own. Ana's nose scrunched happily and she nodded in return. "Good. Very good."

Ana wasn't sure why she was called over, but this alone time with Professor Sprout was nice. The sun was no longer as hot as it had been an hour earlier and the sky was turning into a beautiful watercolor of pinks and yellows. Two colors that she associated with Professor Sprout.

"Well I called you because I want to invite you to the greenhouse after dinner!" She sang softly with shimmering eyes. "I have someone I'd like for you to meet, dear. Would you care for a visit?"

The young witch couldn't imagine turning down Sprout's invitation, it would be a crime to decline. Since her first year the head of Hufflepuff had shown her more care and concern than her own head of house. Snape wasn't horrible, but goodness, he was no Professor Sprout. Snape was kind if he had to be, Sprout was kind because that was just who she was by nature.

"Of course Professor! I'd love to meet them," she smiled from ear to ear, positively glowing with the prospect of meeting someone who had the woman so enthralled. With a charming smile, Sprout beamed at the young girl before sending Ana off to eat.

Dinner went by in a breeze, and Ana couldn't help but bounce with happiness in her seat as she tried guessing who she was going to meet. Perhaps it would be the twins' brother Ron, or maybe even the boy who lived. Regardless, Ana was just excited to spend even more time with her favorite teacher. She practically scarfed down her strawberries and soup, which worried Lucian; he feared she was going to choke. Ana blurted to her friends that she was going to be elsewhere after dinner, and all four of her friends found it bizarre how excited she was to sit among the dirt again, but it made her happy. So it made them happy.

The sight of Ana gleaming and buzzing with joy also made another onlooker happy, although he would never admit it. He couldn't. At least not yet.

After eating as much as she could, Ana gave her quickest yet sincerest goodbyes as she went straight from the Great Hall to the greenhouses. It wasn't unusual for her to frequent the greenhouses after dinner, but now she would have another person to talk to.

Ana entered the glass structure and noticed that it had been untouched since her class; Professor Sprout must still be at dinner, she assumed. It was wonderfully silent, the plants went about their business as she sat patiently, enjoying the stillness of it all. The air was warm yet light, her breathing always seemed to cycle more evenly when she was among all the greenery. It was a safe place for her.

A crash sounded from behind her, and she swiveled in her seat to see a younger blushy boy bend over to pick up a broken flower pot. Thankfully it was empty so there were no plant deaths to mourn, but the accident did break the young girl out of her moment of appreciation.

"Sorry, I didn't me- did I- did I scare you?" he gulped as he noticed just how composed the girl in front of him was. She didn't look angry, but she didn't look happy. It seemed to him like she was just simply there. Like how air just simply exists, quiet yet still. And he came in bumbling and unbalanced.

"You didn't scare me. I've knocked that pot over too many times to count last year. I keep suggesting to Professor Sprout that we move it, but she insists it stay there," she greeted him with a welcoming smile which almost threw the boy off balance again given her green robes. "Reparo" she fixed the pot as quickly as it broke.

He wobbled over to her with one arm slung in a bandage, muttering a quiet thanks as he kept his gaze on his shoes which were untied, but he didn't dare move to fix them. The girl in front of him might judge him. Every millisecond of silence made the boy wish that Professor Sprout was with them already, just to kill the awkwardness. Conversely, Ana was just happy to have company.

"I'm Ana," she said gently, trying to gauge the younger boy's nervousness, he still refused to look her in the eyes. This wasn't exactly how she thought this evening would go, but Ana trusted Professor Sprout's judgement of the boy; who apparently was a Gryffindor based on his red tie. "So you were sorted into Gryffindor? That's pretty cool."

The little lion was surprised that a Slytherin was talking to her, he was scared of the Slytherins in his year and once he saw her green robes he had almost turned and walked away altogether. It wasn't even that the girl was innately scary, he was just scared of most things.

"I don't feel like a Gryffindor,' Ana was surprised the boy would reveal something he was insecure about so easily, but she let him continue, "maybe if I was a to-toothless lion it'd make more sense."

She nodded her head slowly, he just needed some encouragement, "I don't know about that. Everyone starts out without teeth, but they come in eventually."

For the first time in the whole night, the stuttering boy looked her in the eyes where a tiny twinkle resided in his wide brown ones. It was a tiny success, but it was progress, Ana reveled. A decent amount of time went by and the head of Hufflepuff had yet to join them, so Ana decided to grab her Fluxweed plant from a few hours earlier and she began to instruct the boy on what it did and how to take care of it. The green plant nearly matched the ill look on the boy's face when he first walked in. It took a bit of time, but soon the boy was asking questions; he stumbled over his words but he had the courage to utter them still.

He was astounded by the gentle girl who would smile at him patiently whenever he had a random or obscure question about the plant. She took it in stride and answered every inquiry to the best of her ability and he began to enjoy his time. No longer were his palms sweaty or his knees wobbly in fear, he even let out a chuckle when a neighboring plant began hiccupping. Ana celebrated in his laugh and smiled back at him.

It was the first of many laughs and smiles they would share that night.

"Ana! Stop! I don't need any more water!" He choked on his laughter as she began spritzing his dark hair with a water bottle; his arms flailed as he tried to escape the mist. Ana covered her grinning aching face in her hands, it had been a long time since she laughed so hard. The boy's larger front teeth poked out as he bellowed loudly at the girl.

"I'm trying to help you grow!"

"Well, well, well, look at my two favorite students," a whimsical voice said from the entrance of the greenhouses, "I had a feeling you two would get along."

The two students nodded enthusiastically as Professor Sprout joined them at the benches they were perched at; the soles of their hands were covered in dirt but their smiles never faded. During their time of getting to know each other and mucking around, they hadn't even noticed, even through the transparent walls of the greenhouse that the sky had turned pitch black.

"Neville, I'm sorry. There was a meeting for all the heads of houses, but I'm glad to see you, hun," the woman offered the boy a smile; the kind that Ana had received on more than one occasion. Neville glowed at the welcome. "Unfortunately, it is late so maybe we should do this again another day, yes?"

Begrudgingly, the two students agreed, finding it too dark out to escape getting caught by Filch. They had to go their separate ways to their own common rooms, but they mirrored happy smiles at the thought of spending more time together.

~ Quidditch tryouts were absolutely excruciating, the whole time Flint was in a horrific mood since most of the time he was throwing up slugs from fifty feet in the air. For a split second she felt bad for the captain, but then she peered over to where Aeron was sitting with Calista on the stands. Aeron was a bit nervous at the idea of returning to the pitch, but he ultimately decided to support both Ana and Alex as long as Calista was with him. Aeron was there for her, and Ana knew she would return the favor for the boy. Always.

Thankfully, his skin had improved tremendously since she had begun making healing potions in her down time for him in exchange for his tutoring. It took some convincing for the boy to agree to the deal, but in the end, there was no stopping Ana when she wanted to help him heal from something Flint started.

Ana and Alex were the only two going for the singular chaser position since the last player graduated the previous year. They were put through drill after drill, while Lucian and Derrick swatted the bludgers their way as they furiously tried to score against Miles Bletchley. It was tougher than any flying session Ana had done with Draco over the past few years, but the sting of the cool morning air kept her on high alert. She had always chased after Draco who was incredibly fast on a broom and that practice came out during her tryouts.

Being on the ground, on her unsteady two feet meant that Ana toppled over quite a bit. Flying was an entirely different story; she couldn't trip on air, she could only soar. Draco knew this, and he smiled up at his sister from his place in the stands, there was no way he was going to miss his sister's attempt to get on the team. It would be a big deal to the family if she were to make it as a second year. He didn't want to put that pressure on his sisters, so he hid his nervousness behind his cheers of support.

It had been a few hours until the very ill Marcus Flint called it a day. He had been vomiting on and off the whole time and at some point the sun grew stronger which made the situation even nastier. The final line up for the team was going to take a few days to deliberate so all the Slytherins made their way to the Great Hall to fill up on a well-deserved lunch.

Ana was positively starving, almost matching the ferocity at which Alex typically ate her lunch. Aeron and Calista were discussing both muggle and wizarding history, comparing and contrasting the two, while Lucian talked to Derrick about who would possibly fill the seeker position that Gryffindor needed to fill since Charlie Weasley had graduated. Ana was happy to be in her little bubble as she filled herself on fresh strawberries and as much pasta as she could stomach.

Draco walked into the Great Hall and Ana all but yelled for her brother to join her. He smiled when he saw her, his feet pulling him to his sister until his dorm mates, Crabbe, Goyle, and a few other boys grabbed him by his elbows and directed him out of the hall. One of the boys that joined her brother was Marcus Flint and all Ana could see was red. She hated that Flint had for some reason decided to become chummy with a boy that was five years younger than him. All she wanted was to rip the two away from each other and unfortunately she knew she couldn't. Showing any resentment towards the captain would be a sure fire way for her to not get picked for the team.

Lucian noticed the fury behind her eyes, "You alright, Ana?" he smiled as he poured another helping of strawberries on her plate. Ana's furiousness lessened at the boy's thoughtful offering and nodded with little conviction. She wasn't okay with anything that was happening, but she was for damn sure going to keep an eye on it.

After the intense tryouts, dinner, and showers, the group laid around the common room to relax. Calista was sitting on the floor at Alex's feet while she excitedly explained the plot of a movie The Karate Kid. Everyone listened to her recall the most interesting part of the movie, Aeron seemed to take the most notice; his eyes glowed at the story of the boy who learned how to stand up for himself. Ana had to admit, it sounded like a fun movie, she just lamented the fact that she'd probably never get to watch it.

Lucian and Ana sat next to each other on a different couch, taking breaks to talk to each other about the Quidditch tryouts and then returning their attention to Calista. Ana was finally relaxing at the sound of the crackling fire and her little family around her. Her head was nestled on one of the arm rests, trying her hardest to stay awake to enjoy their down time together. Despite how much she wanted to soak in the sound of Calista's excited voice, Ana's eyes began to grow heavy the longer she laid there, the feeling only growing worse after Lucian draped a blanket over her shivering body.

A loud wallop of boys' screaming disturbed her little nap and the group grew silent as Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, and Flint came charging into the common room. It made Ana cringe, seeing the fifth year running around with a bunch of eleven year olds; his uneven facial hair made him stick out like a sore thumb. Flint had been hanging with the group so much, to the point where Ana noticed that Draco hardly talked to her. It made her sad to remember how excited her little brother was last year about coming to Hogwarts; he always talked about doing things together and that had yet to happen.

The four of them bumbled towards the group, which made Aeron and Alex turn to them defensively, their chests puffed out as if they were anticipating some sort of confrontation. Flint focused on the two of them with a sneer that making Ana sit up tiredly: holding her blanket up to her for comfort.

Draco was at the front of the pack which confused Ana, she assumed that Flint would be doing the talking for all of them given he was two years short of graduating.

"When are you going to bed?" the little blond boy asked in a tone that didn't sound like him; it came out far more pompous than ever before. Ana was confused at the sound and the question. He had never cared about the time at which she went to sleep, most times he fell asleep before she did.

"Uh, I'm not sure, whenever I'm tired," she answered kindly, trying to keep the mood light like they usually were when she talked to her brother. "Why do you ask?"

Crabbe and Goyle snickered behind Draco while Flint smirked grotesquely at the group; Ana's face fell at their odd behaviors. At this point all five of them had the entirety of their focus on the four newcomers.

Draco smirked at his older sister, looking almost too sweet. "No reason. Just thought you looked tired."

That was a lie. It was a flat out lie. This was not like Draco. Usually, Ana would stumble upon her brother drooling on his pillow rather early in the night. When he was done for the night he would ignore everyone and pass out. Her stomach twisted at the persona her brother was putting on. He wasn't himself. He was acting like their father, which terrified her.

"She looks tired because that's what happens when you spend your whole morning trying out for the Quidditch team," Alex's statement came out with a bit of acidity to it, her body situated between the boys and the rest of the group.

"I know, I was watching, Bole," Draco quipped back sharply, which alarmed Ana.

The soft and cushy couch was abandoned once he replied to her friend like that; Ana stood up and pulled Draco away from the boys who glared at her scathingly. Thankfully, Draco didn't dismiss Ana, allowing her to take him by the elbow and away from any curious ears.

"Draco are you okay?"

"Of course I am. What would make you think something's wrong?"

Once again, he sounded like he was trying to be convincing, unfortunately for the young boy he was horrible at lying to her. He over-performed everything he did, which made his lying so blaringly obvious to the girl. She figured if he was going to lie to anyone, he would have to get better at it.

"Come on, you know that I can tell when you are off. What's going on?"

Draco was going to comment something until Alex had begun shouting at Flint; she jumped up from the couch and had the Quidditch captain's collar firmly in her grasp. It all happened in the blink of an eye; Lucian was trying to pull his sister off the oldest boy. Meanwhile, Aeron was rubbing at Calista's shoulder softly as he yelled at Crabbe and Goyle with unparalleled wrath.

Before Ana could do anything, Draco darted away from his sister and ran up the stairs into the boy's dorms. She groaned at the boy's getaway and ran over to the fighting group to try and break it up. Lucian had finally gotten Alex off Flint who, after a day of throwing up on the Quidditch pitch, now had a giant scratch down his face that was bleeding. Ana knew she should feel bad for the boy's pain, but she didn't. There was no room in her chest for any sympathy towards Flint.

As soon as Ana rejoined the group, Crabbe, Goyle, and Flint ran around the girl to follow in Draco's steps, leaving them all confused and angry. But unfortunately they left one of them in tears.

"What the in the world just happened?" Ana cried as she surveyed the damage.

Alex's face was scarlet red, still huffing and puffing from attacking the Quidditch captain. In her steady arms was Calista who was quietly sobbing, her shoulders trembled as a new wave of tears escaped. Aeron and Lucian's complexions matched Alex's; they were splotchy red with anger and adrenaline, which was the total opposite of the weeping girl.

When no one answered her question, Ana decided she'd try her luck with just talking to the beater.

Lucian sat down, watching Ana as she wrapped the blanket she was just using around Calista. He gloomily smiled at her small act of kindness and looked up at her with sadness in his eyes.

"They called Calista, something horrible," he mumbled, looking disgusted as he spoke. He didn't want Calista to hear him so he lowered his voice even more, "They called her something you should never call a muggle born." Lucian's eyebrows rose, hoping Ana could insinuate what he was trying to hint at.

Her once shivering body now filled with a simmering fire, Ana's face grew stiff and serious at the admission. She now understood why Alex was so angry.

As a child, her father said the term all the time and her mother would always remind her that it was not something she was to repeat. It was vile and cruel, even for a pureblood wizard to say. That knowledge made her only despise her brother's friends even more. They reminded her of the one person she hated returning to in the summer months.

Seeing their effect on her muggle born friend made her sick. And yet, she knew that Draco wasn't planning on getting rid of them anytime soon.

#fred weasley #fred weasley smut #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley x oc #bibiana malfoy #the girl who vanished #tgwv #tgwv 1-22 #enemies to friends to lovers

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masterstrange-closed · 5 years ago

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𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐋𝐌𝐄𝐑, a drabble

This was originally written for @combatfueled / @caresomuch and posted on my former account, now being reposted here by the author. Do not copy or repost elsewhere. Do not reblog this at all, and do not interact with this if you are not a mutual.

It had been a while coming; every day that Stephen had been able to hold onto Christine just a bit longer had been a blessing. If it were possible, the sorcerer was convinced that his pure selfishness towards her could have kept her alive forever. Still, some things were impossible, even for the Sorcerer Supreme. As such, he knew he had a sacred duty to protect the multiverse and keep the balance of the natural order. Just because Stephen’s methods were often unorthodox, that didn’t mean he hadn’t grown to respect it. As much as it pained him, Stephen couldn’t hold onto Christine Palmer forever.

There had been new people in their lives over the years; friends and allies that come to hold a great deal of significance to him. A few of these had already begun to pass on. Stephen never could forget the sorrowful, grim look on Wong’s face the day he first brought news of a comrade’s death outside of the line of duty or tragic accident. The world was moving on, and soon Stephen would be left in the dust. The passing of your first life, that was something all Masters felt. Something Wong knew personally once upon a time. For Stephen, it was the most stone cold sobering moment of his life. He remembered rushing home to Christine nursing a tea, their dog at her feet on the sofa, and practically knocking the mug out of her hand as he pulled her into a tight embrace. She had been so confused, it wasn’t until much later that he’d been able to force the words out to explain. The gravity of longevity. It wasn’t just looking youthful, as his mind had previously likened it; it was being stuck as the world moved on — as the people he loved moved on without him to a place he could not follow. It was the certainty of being left in the dust alone.

She had still been alive, but as the years went by, Stephen couldn’t help but already begin to feel a twinge of mourning towards her. Hiding it as best he could, but Christine was smart. Smarter than him in several ways, straight up telling him not to miss her before she was gone on a couple occasions. She was right, of course. Christine rarely wasn’t. So, Stephen tried to enjoy it while it lasted. Selfishly stealing every second he could dedicate to her; late for lessons and meetings. Not everyone understood; they were mortal though. It was different for them, they were all dying.

Even some of the other Masters grew impatient at times, their own first lifetime and former earthly attachments long since past. Only Wong truly understood, while he shared frustrations when Stephen was twenty minutes late (despite having the Eye in his possession) and covering the class he was meant to lead, he couldn’t maintain it for long. Stephen was his friend, and despite the Sorcerer’s prickly disposition and off putting sarcasm, he was so emotional. So invested, he loved so much even if he didn’t actively show it on the surface. He knew the loss of the remainder of his human life would be the most painful thing he ever felt — and Stephen knew it.

Christine wasn’t just a friend. Hell, she wasn’t ‘just his wife’ either. Christine was his past, his present, and his future that was quickly running out of time. There were parts of him that only she held the key too. Experiences that shaped who they were, undergone together. Fusing their two souls together in a way nobody could ever replicate. They had been a part of their greatest moments of happiness and their most painful heartaches. Celebrated each other's victories and consoled their miserable failures. If Stephen was a map of all he had ever been and done, then Christine was the legend. Sure, one could glance a map and get a glimpse of what was being depicted — but you’d never fully get the full details without the key to understanding it. He’d live on, but the context to all he had ever been was gone.

Christine was gone, and in his selfishness, Stephen stretched her final moment out as long as possible. Afraid to say goodbye, understanding now how The Ancient One had felt that night they watched the snow fall. She was stronger than him, she always had been. Stephen wasn’t brave by his own doing. He was brave because she had taught him to be so. So much loss in his life, but this one felt different. It sat different with him; there was no blame this time. No finger to point. Christine had come into existence and sailed off into the night like she had always been meant to do. There was a peace in that, he supposed but it also left an unsettling heartache that made the world feel dull around him. She was just gone. It was the natural order, but that didn’t make him feel any less empty.

In his selfishness, it was only after her passing that Stephen stopped thinking about his own broken heart and considered Christine’s legacy on her own. A wing at the hospital they had once both worked at was currently dedicated to his late wife; Christine had raised countless amounts of money for charities around the world, leading to the funding of various underprivileged areas and medical research that changed the world. At her service, Stephen had been shocked by the amount of people whom she had saved or helped the loved ones of over her long career that had come to pay respects. For months, cards, flowers and donations made in her name to organizations she had cared about overflowed; and Stephen had no idea what to make of it all. One life. One woman. On some cosmic scale, one ordinary and universally unimportant woman provoked this much love and gratitude. Then again, even if the universe had never realised, Stephen had always known that Christine Palmer had been the exact opposite of that and more. The rest of the cosmos was just catching on.

He felt lost for a while, Christine had always been his anchor. His north star that guided him home. Motivating him to be better than he was. It was too easy to fall into old habits and drown himself in his work. So many times, Stephen teetered on the precipice, dipping his toes in the other side — until he heard the very stern and demanding voice of his wife in his head setting him straight; and whenever he did, the world slowly gained a bit more of its colour. He didn’t think it would ever be as vibrant as before, there were somethings that could never be replaced… but maybe he would be okay.

Seven hundred years, and counting, was a long time. Stephen’s past lives held fuzzy memories and blank spots. Eidetic Memory had limits and he found that as time went on, to access older memories Stephen required intense mediation to unlock them. Yet, there were some things that always remained clear. His first life. His first love. Christine Palmer held parts of him nobody could ever have; which was why Stephen Strange held the parts of her she had given him with him until the very end.

When Stephen faced the Vishanti one final time, leaving his world weary body behind, Christine Palmer still resided in his heart and soul. Seven hundred years, and counting, and when it was time to go — one last time, she was his legend. His compass. His north star, always guiding him home.

#𝐈 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐘𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅 / other writings.

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kookspierogis · 5 years ago

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Have You Got NERVE? Part 1: SAVE ME teaser

❣ (smut)

💍 (fluff)

⚡ (angst)

💜 (personal favourite)

Have You Got Nerve? NERVE au, Min Yoongi x Reader ❣ ⚡ 💜

Genres: Angst, Smut, Thriller, Drama

release date: 01/04/2020, 6pm Australian Eastern Standard Time/AEST

‘It’s like truth or dare, only without the truth’. When your cousin Taehyung tragically dies, in an effort to escape your depression you sign up as a player of NERVE, the new online daredevil game. Min Yoongi is a prisoner of the game and after losing in his hometown of Daegu, has come to play another round in Seoul.

In your opinion, Daegu had always been warmer than Seoul, and you used to miss the weather. Now, you wish it was raining, or cold or some sign that the world, too, was mourning the loss of life. Instead, the world decided to spite you, today of all days. The black dress which you had thrifted clings onto you, gathering sweat under your arms and two sizes too small with fraying sleeves which you can’t help but wince at as they stick in every direction. The sky is clear with not a single cloud in sight, the breeze is calm and it’s almost a picture-perfect day.

Almost.

The key thing missing for you to have said ‘perfect day’ is your cousin, one Kim Taehyung. Because Tae would be by your side but he’s not, instead your cousin lies in a coffin made of dark wood at the front of the room. He’s all dressed up in a suit you recognise to be your uncles, clear of any blood and honestly, if it wasn’t for the formal attire or the unnatural paleness to your cousin’s skin it would look as if he was merely sleeping and not dead.

Being here doesn’t feel right to you. Tae was never one for big gatherings and he didn’t know half the people here to pay their respects. He should have a better sendoff than this and you know it. This is all wrong. Taehyung’s life should be celebrated with friends and family, not local strangers. He once jokingly told you to play ‘R.I.P to My Youth’ at his funeral, “Don’t let them play depressing classical music, _________.” The sound of piano and violin in a minor key is poison to your ears, but what irks you the most is the small bouquet planted in your cousin’s hands. Taehyung was never a person who stuck to boundaries, he always thought outside the box, whoever put white lilies and crimson roses in his hands obviously didn’t know that. The choice of flowers alone seems like such a disrespect to the person you knew your cousin was. They should be purple carnations and daffodils, to represent his whimsical personality and rebirth.

Everything about this funeral makes you sick. Literally.

______________________________

‘SK TEL VOICEBOX- You have one (1) new message in your inbox. Message received from +82-105-5576-443 on the 14/05’ Your eyes widen almost comically, seeing a missed message from Taehyung’s number. ‘When had you missed a call from Tae?!’ the thought plagues your mind and you quickly dial the number for your voice mail, putting your phone up against your ear, having a death grip on the device so tight you’re afraid you might break it. A female robotic voice answers the line.

‘Welcome to voicemail, you have one new message, message received on May fourteenth, press one to listen to the message, press two to delete.’ You frantically press one. There’s a slight static but finally, the automated machine plays the message.

‘Hey _______, it’s me Tae.’

#fic: hygn?#bts #kim taehyung #park jimim #min yoongi #taehyung #jimin #yoongi #lets get this bread #its my first bangtan fic yeehaw #bangtan #bangtan seonyeondan #fanfiction #bts fanfic

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flyswhumpcenter · 5 years ago

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Bad Things Happen Bingo! The event where you send me requests according to this marvelous card! (Red cross is the completed prompt, character headshots are prompts I’ve already filled. I don’t have any request left, so feel free to send in suggestions for this card!).

I have no idea what I'm doing and I must scream about my friend's OTP

*bangs pots together* I HEARD THIS FANDOM NEEDED MORE SICKFIC SO I CAME HERE TO PROVIDE With angst too! It's simple, even simplistic to a fault in fact, but I'm kind of happy with it? The beginning especially, man I love writing the literal equivalent of suffering. The ending may be a letdown, but I hope it's decent anyway.

also yeah can we all stan my good pal @chess-of-flowering-kingdom's writing in the chat because she's much better than me at this FE3H thing, she’s like an icon or something in this fandom

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Thanatophobia

Summary: [thanatophobia: noun. Literally, “fear of death”; a feeling of dread, anxiety or sollicitude when thinking of or faced by death or the process of dying. Derivated fromthe Ancient Greek "θάνατος", death, and "φόβος", fear or anxiety.] Ingrid almost loses someone again.

Fandom: Fire Emblem: Three Houses (post-timeskip) Ships: Ingrid/Sylvain (pre-relationship)

Wordcount: 2.8K words

Event hosted by @badthingshappenbingo

AO3 version available here.

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Her vision was blurry from the water flooding in her eyes, her hearing by the sobs she was trying to keep inside, her thoughts from the swirling concerns and confusion hitting it at once. Her head ached, so did her heart, and her stomach was hardly able to keep up with the nauseating worry she was finding herself to be the victim of.

Yet, and it only hurt further to admit it, even the best training in the world couldn’t have prevented this, so all she could do was not let herself get eaten away by her sorrow, as looking like a mourning widow would do nothing to improve the absolutely abhorrent situation that was unfolding right before her helpless eyes.

It wasn’t like it was her fault, she knew that. She couldn’t have prevented it even if she had tried her hardest: in a way, this was bound to happen, but that train of thought only made it worse. What, was she supposed to just stay here and do nothing because this was always going to end in some tragedy one way or the other? Was she supposed to believe there was fate above all of their heads menacingly staring at them and waiting for the first opportunity to cause them misery to happen?

As it stood, Ingrid hated being unable to do anything, always wanted to do something and be of some use whenever things turned sour; yet reality was forcing itself on her, itself and its terrible sides and toll. It was telling her that no matter what she did, no matter what she was trying to do, no matter where she went, no matter how or why, it was a superior face on her soul bound to its realm by her flesh and blood.

If reality wanted to pain her again and make someone die on her for a second time, it could, and it wanted very desperately to show her this without any possible contestation on her part.

Perhaps it hurt her even more to know this would eventually happen, no matter what she said or did. Ingrid had always watched over Sylvain ever since they had known each other, had gotten to know every side of his personality to the point she could predict every single thing he was about to go through with. He was a free spirit, someone who took his life lightly, a true skirt-chaser, someone who listened to her and stared into her eyes without ever considering if her words could have an impact on his life.

Ingrid had always found him to take his existence too much on the light side of things, and Glenn’s demise had only enforced his feeling, but she could only confirm that to a whole new extent she had never wished to behold today.

They were fighting alongside on the battlefield, the two of them, against the enemy forces. She was the prideful knight, he was the free-thinking monk, and they worked better than she’d have expected coming him and his seemingly lack of seriousness about anything that involved life-or-death stakes. Both on the battlefield, sharing a portion of land as decided by their strategist, weapons out and senses sharp, focus undefeatable as she defeated her foes one by one on her fierce mount.

At least, it was in her case, because Ingrid couldn’t stop spotting in the corner of her how sloppy her battle partner was. Usually, and that was one of the qualities she could give him, he was more than competent when fighting, He’d usually slipped in a couple teases and flirtatious lines of banter between two battles, yet all she heard are pants and wheezes coming from his side, her moves slow and unprecise, the absolute opposite of what a warrior was supposed to be standing for in her eyes.

But the battle was raging on, so she ignored it at first and just made it out to be a minor thing. Must have been because he had been chasing skirts all night again, without thinking of tomorrow’s battle (even if that seemed too easy of an explanation). It was a day like any other, even if the taste of blood wasn’t as strong as it’d have usually been. Nothing wrong to report on, truly, or so she thought (or tried convincing herself of? It wasn’t clear, not even in the heat of the moment where lucidity of the mind was key). And, in her point of view, it all looked fine and usual until she noticed she was alone killing off the last of the enemy’s forces.

As it stood, meddling with the dried leaves of the early autumn metamorphosis, crimson poking out from the light browns and oranges, was the unconscious body of a childhood friend.

The assault had stopped for them, in the far-end part of the battlefield; yet the feeling of dread wetting her back in cold sweats didn’t give in, nourishing itself from the misery plaguing her mind. Ingrid got off her mount, her stallion’s reins firmly enclosed between her fingers, approaching the suddenly shapeless form of who could have only been Sylvain if she squinted enough with heavy steps and a heavier breath.

She slowly crouched, feet trying to avoid stepping on the leftovers of the battle, until her available hand could touch him, the other gripping harder on the reins as soon she realized what was wrong. A clump formed in her throat, her stomach twirled, she felt like she was about to get sick from the sudden rush of worry nausea taking a hold of her system like a demon possessing her body. Without uttering a word, she put him on his back, finally able to see his dirtied face and harsh breathing, skin paler than the corpses around them, red splattered across his cheeks like blood on a soldier’s attire.

Ingrid didn’t waste words trying to wake him up, but her hands burned when she let go of the rein to put him on her mount and escort him back to safety, back to their base while she walked, in silent, with a troubling vision and sobs threatening to exit her chest if she wasn’t careful to them even for a moment. Her feet crushing the dirt and leaves, three breathes of different intensities and faraway cries were the only things she accepted hearing for the time being, careful that none of these breathings stopped all of a sudden and forever.

She was sniffling worry in. This was happening, under her eyes, and she couldn’t do anything about it. She was no healer, no priestess of any kind. She didn’t know how to beg a deity for someone’s wellbeing, all she knew was fighting and court codes, in the end. Despite the toll of the battle on the enemy’s forces and her army’s victory, her heart couldn’t scream any cry of war, couldn’t sing a hymn, because it was busy crying while her mind was busy not to let herself do the same.

And, in this time of great mental distress, sorrowful Ingrid realized something: for the first time in her life, no matter what had happened before since they had been children, no matter what she could say or even think of uttering, she couldn’t do anything for Sylvain.

The rest of things was a blur from then on. She brought her horse back to the base, couldn’t explain what had happened aside from the idea that he had collapsed while she was looking elsewhere to fend against the enemy, and watched events unfold while her hands went unoccupied and her legs restless. Her entire body turned into lead jelly, stiff like metal yet tender from her weaknesses striking at once. Healers tried their best, but only words of apology came out from them: they had spells for injuries, not illnesses, and they were as helpless as she was.

When she was invited to see him after a more formal exam, shortly before the battle ended with her army’s flawless and stainless victory, Ingrid turned down the offer. She wasn’t ready to face the situation, not at first at last, and went for a walk outside instead to calm down the nausea and stop her thoughts from becoming a tornado inside her skull.

The air had gone cold since the battle had ended, the warmth of her companions and blood pouring on the floor having given stead to night’s silence and comfortable judgement. Nobody could see her now, all inside either celebrating or getting concerned, maybe both; but even her hunger had gone missing, buried under the thick layers of concern she kept putting on because of her own uselessness.

Her hands rubbed against her arms, her breath emitted clear smoke against the black backdrop of the night embracing her, her feverish skin finally calming down to a point where she felt like she could face her friend again, even if this entire fiasco made her doubt her own feelings’ nature. Perhaps staying for too long in the dark quietness of the deserted paths only accelerated her uncertainties, so she went back inside, the warmth of a group reaching back to her right as her skin was shivering.

Her heart was wavering with the intensity of a typhoon, even as her footsteps echoed in the corridors as she made her way to the infirmary. She knocked once and entered without waiting for a reply, not expecting any considering it was already fairly late in the evening. The silence of the room reminded her of the outsides, which eased her heart into entering the room, even if immediately the sight of Sylvain in this bed, left to devilish devices, stung her deeper than she’d have thought.

Her hands were fiddling together by themselves as she sat on the chair that was already there, eyes unable to face it. She wanted to weep at last, let her sorrow run free; but that’d have been disgracing Sylvain, disgracing all the cautious words she had ever told him and all the messages she had tried to drill through his skull as much as possible so he wouldn’t ridicule himself again, so she wouldn’t suffer second-hand embarrassment from him.

Her heart was pounding. In truth, she wasn’t confused about her feelings, more than she wanted to deny them: really, falling for her childhood friend wasn’t something she wanted. It was even worse if she considered how he was such a skirt-chaser, flirting with everything that moved or had a pulse, from her grandmother to their female colleagues: it was going to end badly for her if she truly stopped lying to herself about it, if something made her stop rejecting what she shouldn’t have felt in the first place.

The problem was that this something had already come around. No matter how much she told herself this, seeing Sylvain in this bed was like watching herself lose Glenn all over again: it started small, it always ended terribly, this much she had been taught and she had learnt over the years, throughout her experiences and connections with people. She was afraid of losing someone else, so she denied their value to her and tried keeping her tears inside, even if she knew it was all a lie, even if she was fully aware it had been nothing but a charade of refusal and unhealthy denial.

Yet, even with all of her efforts, Ingrid was crying, tears rolling down her face and sorrow finally making its way out of her airways, pouring in thoughts and tears. How ungraceful, how weak coming from the woman who had wanted to become Dimitri’s most fellow knight, the one who grief and death shouldn’t have scared like a little girl whom the world had deemed to forever be lost in the eternal penumbra whose last beacon of light had been engulfed by the shadows.

At least, she was alone, unseen from the world, with the only witness being an unconscious man. It was the only consolation she had, the one thing fate had decided to keep her away from being shame and dishonour, but it was minor compared to the pain raging in her chest.

Until she felt a trembling finger stroking her cheek, stealing a tear away.

With her vision now restored, Ingrid saw the impossible: Sylvain, awake, the faintest smile he had given her on his face, whose finger was indeed against her cheek despite the weakness she could tell came from it. For a moment, a short moment, time stopped, until he broke down coughing and her heart started stinging again.

“’nice to see you, Ing,” he slurred as he looked at her, breathing still as heavy as it used to, glass-eyed and disgraceful all around. Yet, even in this moment of vulnerability on his part…

“…nice to see you too, Sylvain,” she tried to ignore that fact and hide her relief to see him conscious enough.

It meant that, in another sense, she could finally do the one thing she should have done all along.

“Never, ever do that again. I don’t want to escort you out of the battlefield after harvesting your body like rotting wealth.”

“That’s not a… nice thing to say…”

“Do you think worrying me was a nice thing to do?”

If she couldn’t have hidden the tears forever, she surely couldn’t have pretended like she wasn’t blushing from embarrassment after dropping such a line. In fact, like a foolush beginner, she had stolen her own speech away from herself. Talk about a bad move on her part.

“I… I made you worry…?” His voice was unnaturally groggy and low, as if gravel had infected his airways. It was like speaking to someone else altogether if she didn’t focus on his face.

“…of course you did. We’re friends.”

“Ah…” His expression was genuine, this much she could tell, but his sudden solemnity weirded out in some measure. “Sorry… I thought it’d do the opposite, but…” He coughed, yet smiled, and it confused her even further. “’was wrong.”

“You sure were…”

They fell into some kind of constantly broken silence, wordless moments interrupted by coughing fits she had never wanted to hear and desired to see gone for the rest of their existences. Her heart continued aching against her bones, fatigue never truly coming to her senses, until Sylvain put her hand away from her face and she missed his undesired hotness.

“Y’know, I’ve always l’ved you, Ing…” He slurred, his face’s flushing making her unable to tell if it was genuine, just a delirium kind of side effect, or a plain joke. Considering the context, she scratched the last theory out on her quick mental list.

Not like she’d have possibly had the wittiness to reply to that in her usual fashion, not when she had feared for his life merely an hour ago all evening.

“I…”

He’d forget that by the time morning rolled around, right? Someone like him wouldn’t have normally laid down his feelings like that. She could, maybe just this once, maybe because he was alive and she was more than happy about this fact, allow herself a confession of her own.

“It may have been reciprocal for a longer time that I thought.”

Her response must have rendered him speechless, because all she saw him do was blush even further and almost faint on her.

“Hey, are you alright?!” She yelled without really realizing about it. “You should rest, that’s the only way you’ll win against this thing.”

She still didn’t know what the nature of the illness was exactly, but for now, she’d do without that piece of information. It wasn’t like she had dared asking or even thinking about it, it could have sent her into another wave of choked sobs if she had.

“I… s’pose you’re right… See ya later, Ing…”

“See you. Take care.”

She waited for him to completely fall asleep before leaving the room, her heart still heavy from the concern, exhaustion of the day and sudden revelations that had showered on her out of the blue. It really hadn’t been the right moment to have those, this much was for sure.

Yet, tomorrow seemed a bit more promising now. She still felt helpless, useless on the surface, and her chest ached from seeing such a dear friend (this, she couldn’t deny anymore) in such a pitiful condition. Nonetheless, she left his room before she could give him the one thing he didn’t quite want in her opinion, her pity, and thought sleep would clear everyone’s minds out of whatever had bothered them during the day and made them endlessly stir.

Yeah, she just needed a good night of sleep and for him to be alright. It was a lot to ask for, but she’d be caught red-handed trying to get that to happen nonetheless.

-----------

By the time day rolled around, even if the fever was still clogging his brain, Sylvain hadn’t forgotten about their conversation.

Ingrid didn’t quite know what to make out of that realization.

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jokes on everyone (that includes me, a clown) I know very little about the game, it was just to make my good friend Azure smile and write even more angst

As such, I want to formally apologize if anyone is OOC beyond recognition.

#fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #ingrid brandl galatea #sylvain jose gautier #sylvgrid #sickfic #angst #introspection #stream of consciousness #bad things happen bingo #bthb 2 #otp: never would and never have

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iturbide · 5 years ago

Note

Not necessarily an AU ask, but do you have any headcanons for Grimleal religious practices? Do they have daily prayers, attend regular sermons, etc?

Gods I have so many Grimleal headcanons okay it gets crazy up in here when we start in on Plegia’s religion

I personally tend to think that Plegians perform daily religious observances, which take place either before dawn or after sundown. Grima was not truly a dark dragon, but their eyes were exceptionally photosensitive, so they didn’t really care for the sun; most of their activity, especially where interactions with mankind were concerned, took place at night, so most of the Grimleal services continue to reflect this.

The moon phases also play into this quite heavily – Plegia even operates on a lunar calendar because of this. The first new moon after the longest night of the year (aka Grima’s Night) is considered the start of their new year, and each new moon thereafter marks the start of a new month.

Eclipses are also considered to be incredibly fortuitous, in particular total solar eclipses, and when one approaches pretty much the whole nation shuts down to witness the event.

Daily observances are often performed at home, and generally involve prayers offered in the direction of the setting sun and simple actions (drawing Grima’s Mark – touching the thumb and one finger to the forehead, eyelids, and heart before clasping both hands with fingers laced). At the new and full moons, there are also temple ceremonies, which are much more involved and often include recitation from Grima’s Truth.

Grimleal are by no means required to attend temple ceremonies, of course: while many do, it’s not uncommon for families to hold dedicated observances at home, reading from the religious texts on their own. This makes it significantly easier for people with young children or ailing family members to take part, and oftentimes a temple priest will come to visit those unable to attend either shortly before or after the service to confer blessings upon them.

Along with the daily observances and bi-monthly sermons, there are several key observances that the Grimleal keep: Grima’s Night, the new year, and the Day of Remembrance.

Grima’s Night is the biggest festival day in Plegia. Taking place on the longest night of the year, when Grima’s powers are at their peak, Grima’s Night is a celebration of those who have already left the world and joined Grima’s embrace. The day is spent in preparation, hanging decorations, cooking, and setting places for those both living and departed (with mementos of the dead marking their places); at sundown, there is an ceremony invoking Grima to send the spirits back to their friends and families, and then the rest of the night is spend feasting and talking and laughing and sharing the events of the year gone by before the spirits must depart with the sunrise.

New Year’s takes place on the first new moon after Grima’s Night (so should Grima’s Night itself fall on a new moon – which is quite the auspicious sign – the new year would begin the following month). Much like Grima’s Night, planning and preparation takes place throughout the day leading up to nightfall; however, the preparation is as much individual as it is communal, with each person reflecting on the year past, things done well and mistakes made, and endeavoring to right wrongs, mend bridges, and otherwise start off the new year with no lingering ills or bad blood remaining from the one prior. It’s also said that the best time to offer your heart to someone (propose marriage, or at least announce your feelings) is on the new year, because if they’re turned away you have the new year to mend; and if they’re accepted, you have the new year to grow closer to the one you love.

The Day of Remembrance is a somber day, by comparison to the others. Taking place on the longest day of the year, it commemorates not just Grima’s Fall at the hands of Naga and the First Exalt, but of all those lost in the conflicts that followed. Everyone wears white in mourning (the color death and mourning, of bleached bone under the sun) and fasts through the day as they’re able; just before sunset, there is a religious service to honor and remember those lost…and with the setting of the sun, the ceremony reminds everyone that though Grima fell, their protector was not destroyed, but simply became part of the earth, One with the Shadow of the World, and continues to watch over and guide them.

Grimleal temples are generally round, enclosed spaces with skylights. Grima’s radial body symmetry played at least a minor part in the early design, but now such radial planning is common throughout Plegia, with many of their cities having streets that lead toward a central temple (which is as much a place of worship as it is a defensible location for citizens to take shelter at).

The skylight is also a throwback to the time before the fall. Because the fell dragon was so huge, landing was almost impossible, so it was difficult for them to convene with humanity; however, the Dragon’s Table – far and away the tallest structure in Plegia – had a central skylight at the top, and humans would go there to convene with Grima, who would fly around the tower and speak with them. While the spire was initially meant as the resting place of the Earth Dragons, Grima’s followers gradually modified the rotunda at the top, adding the colored stones and other artistic touches. After Grima’s fall they added the altar to serve as a memory of their divine.

While not required, a great number of temples built after Grima’s fall are actually built underground, with only a small dome visible from the surface. Grima’s fall left the dragon’s bones scattered throughout the nation, and many ended up being buried in the sand; many in Plegia believe that their divine is part of the earth now, and such subterranean construction makes them feel closer to Grima.

Grimleal traditionally bury their dead, for much the same reason that they build temples belowground as much as possible. After death, a body is wrapped in a shroud bearing the Mark of Grima before they’re buried in special graveyards filled with plants, be they trees or flowers.

These grave sites are special, not just for their greenery, but also for the fact that a small piece of Grima’s body is buried at the heart of each one. Even communities far from Grima’s bones have this memento at the hearts of their cemeteries, for it is believed that Grima still has a connection to their scattered remains, and by burying the dead close to Grima’s own they can be safely taken into the fell dragon’s embrace.

The bones of the dead are considered sacred, as well, because those remains are the anchor that spirits may use to return to the world on Grima’s night. For this reason, cremation is considered sacrilegious, because it destroys the bones and untethers the spirit from the world, preventing their return.

Animal bone is handled and treated differently, but with equal care: the Grimleal endeavor to use every part of the animals they hunt and keep, which includes using their bones for tools and armor.

Blood is a key part of the most important Grimleal rituals; however, only a small amount is ever required (usually no more than a pinprick, at most a shallow cut). For religious ceremonies, obsidian blades are used for the ritual drawing of blood; while the priests carry finely wrought obsidian daggers, most devout Grimleal carry small shards for use in private observances.

Black, violet, and gold all have key religious significance, and are widespread throughout the nation; red is widely valued, but tends to carry fewer religious connotations (though it is still used for ceremonial purposes).

and holy heck this got out of hand whoops

#answered #anonymous #fire emblem: awakening #fanfiction #grimleal #headcanon #but seriously this got way out of hand #and this isn't even everything this is just some of what i have #there's so much more but it was already so long #i'm so glad i was able to put the read more in to spare your dashboards

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sup-hoes-its-me · 6 years ago

Text

With Time II (Tobirama x Reader)

A/N: sup. Tbh I'm surprised I got this far. I didn't think I would finish part one lol. I don’t want to spoil this so just read it and have lots of fun guys!!!!

word count: 4731

Part One/Part Two/Part Three

I rushed into the Hokage's office, my mind running mad with thoughts and fears. News ran past me that my best friend, Hashirama Senju, was injured. Fatally.

Tears threatened to burn down my cheeks, but I held them in. I kept grasping at hope, even if it was a miniscule source; I wanted him to be okay. I wanted the shinobi I bumped into in the street to be wrong; that he wasn't actually there to see their godlike Hokage fall.

The door was ajar and I shoved through. There sat Tobirama. He was alone, in the grand chair behind the desk. His head was downcast but his eyes were firm. They stared deeply at his clenched fists. His face singed with pain and anger and confusion and everything you would expect from someone like him suffering loss.

Tentatively through my labored breaths, I asked, “Tobi...Tobirama, is Hashirama-”

And he shook his head, a soft ‘tsk’ falling from his lips.

A sob left my body, and I felt my entire body start to crumble. Hands ran feverishly through my hair as I processed everything, as I realized I would never see him again. My best friend was gone. Tobirama's brother was gone. That stupid, meddling, gambling, great shinobi of a man I grew up beside was gone.

It all happened so fast.

My heart sped up and my face felt like it was so red it would burst. I clutched at my chest, right above my heart, desperately trying to calm myself, to lessen this agony.

“How did this happen? Hashi was the best, the greatest ninja to ever live! How? What? I-I…” I gasped. I peered up into his eyes, his red eyes that were solemn, but so lost. My lips quivered and my body shook and my eyes dropped salty tears, so different from his strong facade.

I walked toward the desk and collapsed in the chair beside him, the one I sat in for work each morning. My knees brushed his, and I felt desperate for human touch. Intimacy from someone to comfort me. After years of being alone, I felt like I needed someone more than ever.

My hand rest upon his now. My cold ones on his warm ones. He felt them shaking and quivering and lifted one to rub mine. His thumbs turned circles on my fingers and the back of my hand. I pressed my other hand to my face and cried into my hands nearly screaming because of the pain I felt in my chest.

“Y/N, listen. My brother fought valiantly, but the jinjuriki and the Uchiha - they just…”

“I just can't believe he's gone. I loved him, Tobi. I-I've loved him like a brother for so long.”

He nodded, but his lips never failed to turn down from that stern look without emotion. “I have lost the last of my brothers today, and it hurts me more than you can imagine, Y/N,” he sighed, rubbing his thumb just slightly, like a feather, over my knuckles, sending shivers up my arm. His eyes turned up to look into mine, forcing my into his own world for a moment. “But until this war is won, we must defend those of us who still hold our livelihoods.”

“But, Tobi, I-I can’t just work after something like-”

“I know, Y/N. But listen, tomorrow we will have a funeral service for my brother and you may mourn. If you must take time off, you can do so as you wish. But you will report back to be my right hand when you are well enough,” he said tentatively. He seemed so strong in moments like these, ones that he held back his tears, ones I know he wanted to let fall so badly.

He would be strong for his people. He would be strong for me.

I peered up at him, shock no doubt spread across my features. I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard. “You want me to be your right hand? You mean, like I was to Hashi? Surely you don’t mean…”

He raised a rough, calloused hand, his fingers curling under my chin delicately. My lips still quivered as tears dripped down my chin onto his hand, but he didn’t seem to mind. He only closed his eyes for a moment to take a deep breath, then spoke in that deep, entrancing voice I’d grown so accustomed to.

“In times like these, you hold onto the ones you have,” he confessed, voice rough and low under his breath. “I want you around me so I know you’re safe, Y/N.” His eyes were sincere and his lips moved with a precision that he really knew what he meant to say.

I bit my lip and nodded, shutting my eyes to avoid his gaze. It was too much. Too overwhelming and full of care and admiration and this little bit of something else that I couldn’t place. I just...these feelings were drowning me.

He let his hand slide from my chin to my cheek and then down my neck to rest gently on my shoulder. I never thought I would feel a faint touch from this warrior of a man. Yet, he was showing me a new side of him: a soft, vulnerable one.

I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I collapsed in his arms, burying my nose in his shirt and clutching handfuls of his coat in my fists. The sobs that left my lips were muffled by the fabric but I knew the tears would stain.

“Why does it have to be like this, Tobi? Why do we have to lose so many people we love?” I cried. He sighed, pulling my shaking body to his chest, his strong arms around my shoulders, one hand pressed to the back of my head while the other rubbed circles to my back. “Why, Tobi, why? Why did Hashi have to die?”

“The life of a shinobi is not easy. Nor is loving someone; I fear it’s the most dangerous of all,” the man said into my ear. In that moment, I knew he was right.

_________________________

Life was difficult for a while after the death of my best friend. I struggled to grasp my life without seeing him every morning when I came to work, instead being blandly greeted by a firm Tobirama who was consumed by the war and developing the village for his people. These two men, these noble brothers, although they both would die for their people, could not be any more different.

But time heals all wounds. That's what everyone says. And I suppose it did. I grew happy again, and I could function without falling into a pit of loathing.

I sat in my room on the edge of my bed, pinning up the last strands of hair into my bun sitting atop my head. Today was a celebration, the first big one we've had in years because of this war. The first Hokage's eldest son was celebrating the birth of his second child and the village was throwing a huge party for him.

Tsunade was being done up by her grandmother, Mito who was a good friend of mine. She would be wearing a cute little kimono with pink and blue flowers on it, even though she loathed the fancy attire.

Another exciting thing, as well as stressful, factor about this party was the fact that people from Kirigakure would also be visiting. It was not only for the grandson but also diplomatic reasons. I was nervous, and worried something terrible would happen while they were here, heightening tensions further between our villages.

But I decided to take deep breaths and just work on making myself presentable. As the hand of the Hokage, I had to seem modest within reason. Surely Tobi would be dressed in armour or something of the sort like usual, which he always looked nice in.

After checking my appearance in the mirror for the hundredth time tonight, I visibly grimaced. Wearing an Ao Dai, having pink flowers in my hair and delicate ivory pins, and feeling the make up on my face, it all made me feel weird and gross. I felt so out of place. I would never wear something like this.

I wore shorts and fishnet, and normally had bandages wrapped around my arms and my thighs. I normally looked like a shinobi but today I looked like a woman. Those two aren't mutually exclusive but it felt that way.

I bit my lip and sucked up the courage to leave my apartment, shutting the door behind my and throwing the key into my pocket. It was all going to be okay. As long as no one stared at me. I would be fine. I was sure no one would stare anywhere. Far more women were there with beautiful faces and bodies, lovely young women who could easily show me up.

The streets leading to the village center was illuminated by beautiful lanterns and twinkling candles hanging from buildings and lampposts. It was gorgeous and I made a mental note to applaud Mito for her decorating later tonight. As I thought, no one bothered to spare me a glance as I walked down the somewhat crowded street.

That is, until I arrived in front of the Hokage’s tower in the center of town. From where I was, I could make out the ever beautiful features of Mito, her long red hair hanging in delicate twirls and her kimono more than immaculate. She was standing with Tobirama, discussing something in hushed voices so that I couldn’t hear from where I stood, regardless of how good my shinobi hearing allowed.

The woman peered over his shoulder and smiled, waving to me. She tapped his shoulder and told him something to which he tensed, I could see it in the way his shoulders turned in on themselves. As I closed the space between my friends and I, the warrior turned around to face me.

If I was moment late, I would have missed the look to glaze over his eyes.

His red eyes widened just enough, in a way I’d never seen on him before. He scanned my form, taking me in like a long drink of water; although, I highly doubted I was at all refreshing. He straightened out his shoulders and instinctively stood taller, prouder. His hands hung almost limply by his sides, as if he had no idea whether to raise them to greet me or shove them in his pockets like usual.

He looked at me like no one else had. I might be delusional, and I might just be saying this because I’ve craved the feeling for so long...but Tobirama - The man looked at me as if I were something special. Something to be beloved.

And I feared I was looking at him the same way. He was strong and tall, and so proud of what he and his brother had done. He was a hero in his own right, a tragic one at that. My eyes couldn’t help but scan over his figure: the curves of his muscles through shirt, the sharpness of his jawline and the lifts in his cheekbones, the sternness in his eyes, and the broadness of his chest under his traditional armor.

“Tobi, you look-’

“Y/N, I-

Both of us spoke at the same time, and silenced each other. My cheeks dared to turn red, and I scolded myself. I was not a child, I was a grown woman who did not blush. It wasn’t something I would be shameful enough to do. Swiftly, I tore my eyes away from him and glanced at my shaking hands, my calloused fingers suddenly much more interesting than anything else.

I spoke so softly to him, embarrassed, “Sorry. I, um, what were you going to say?”

“It’s not important. What is it you wanted to say?”

Now that I thought about what I was going to tell him, that he looked wonderful tonight, I felt incredibly self conscious. I shook my head and bit my lip nervously. “It’s not very important either, I guess.”

“I’m sure whatever you have to say is nothing less than important.”

“You’re the Hokage though. Doesn’t that make what you say more important that what I have to say?”

“Not at all. You seem to forget you’re just as crucial to this village as I am.”

“Tobirama, really, you don’t have to say silly things like that.”

“Silly?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, I’m basically just a secretary-”

“Advisor and friend, clearly. Nothing close to a secretary, Y/N.”

Just as I was about to disagree, Mito broke our train of conversation, a soft smile on her features and an amused gleam clear in her eyes. “As much as I love listening to the two of you struggle to compliment each other, you two have some diplomatic matters to take care of, yes? The Mizukage and his bodyguard is approaching you from the left.”

I gaped at her as she turned to walk away. We were doing nothing of the sort, were we? I highly doubt it. Tobirama would never compliment anyone, especially me, unless it was absolutely necessary. The redhead walked away before I could even protest what she had said.

Tobirama grabbed my wrist and yanked me around so I faced the other way and then quickly released me. I would have questioned him and his abruptness, only to be met with the kind faces of the Mizukage and his guard, although with the amount of sheer power the Mizukage possessed he would barely need assistance under threat.

“Senju, it’s an honor to see you again after the peace talks,” Byakuren greeted, and Tobirama nodded his head in reply. The elderly man tilted his eyes in my direction and observed my face, his eyes seemingly digging into my soul. He wasn’t exactly a trusting man, I knew this, but I also had nothing to hide from him. “And I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure to meet you, young lady. Forgive me.”

“It’s really fine, Mizukage Sir. I’m not normally one to travel with the Hokage.”

“I presume you are the Senju’s wife, or at least promised?”

I blinked, my cheeks at this point flaring a bright fiery red. Frantically, I shook my head from side to side, unable to bring words to my lips. My tongue wasn’t working and my throat seemed to close up? Did Tobirama and I look like husband and wife? Is that the impression we gave off? I wanted to die.

Thankfully Tobirama came to my rescue. “This is actually my most trusted advisor, Hatake Y/N. She has been like family for ages.”

“Ah, I see. I could have been fooled,” he said, and in my mind, I almost thought he was teasing the two of us. I brushed off the thought quickly as absurd and bowed to him respectfully, “It’s lovely to meet you, Miss Hatake.”

“And it’s a great honor to finally meet you, Sir. I’ve heard many stories of your impressive jutsu.”

He smiled. “And I assume for you to have gained the trust of the Senju family, especially this boy here, you must be quite the kunoichi.”

“Please, Mizukage Sir. I’m mediocre at the best of times. I am merely a friend of the family. Tobi flatters me.”

He quirked a brow, and I heard my companion silently curse me under his breath, his elbow going to jab me in the side. “Tobi? Pet names for each other, correct? Again, I’m shocked the pair of you are not an item. You look beautiful together, if I may say.”

I had no words in my throat to reply to that. Tobirama and I were merely friends, and this old man was making me question myself and my decisions. I peered up at my friend with a slack jaw and a curious look in my eye, to which he ignored with a grimace. Instead, he waved his hand and motioned to the Hokage tower. “That’s enough, Byakuren. I suggest we begin our diplomatic discussions inside my office as soon as possible, while the night is still young.”

“I suppose that would be best. Guide the way, Senju.”

Tobirama began making his way to the staircase, but when I started to follow after him, he sent me a look. It wasn’t angry nor threatening, it was simply pleading. It asked me to stay put, to enjoy the party while he took care of business. Both of us knew that if I were to follow the three men that there would be more implied romantic relations discussed and it would only further embarrass the both of us.

“I think I’m going to stay here and see if Mito needs any help with Tsunade. Is that okay with you, Tobirama?” I asked politely.

“That’s fine. We all know how Tsunade can be after all.” With that we sent each other one last look before turning out backs and heading in opposite directions. And despite no longer being around the man anymore, I still couldn’t appease the red staining my face and my ears.

Mito was just across the road, sitting at a tea stand enjoying a steaming cup of something, probably jasmine. It was always her favorite from what Hashi told me.

She raised her eyes from the cup to me when I approached, scurrying in her direction like a little girl. “Mito, something strange just happened. I, uh, I don’t know how to respond to it,” I confessed the moment I stood close enough to her that not many people could hear.

She smiled and quirked a questioning brow. “Does it have to do with Tobirama?”

“Yes- wait how did you…? Ugh, I don’t even want to know,” I groaned, pressing my hand to my forehead. “Do you think Tobirama and I look like a couple? Be completely honest because I need genuine advice here.”

“You two seem very close, definitely, but it’s mostly the way Tobirama holds himself in your presence, Y/N.”

“What does that mean?” I asked, staring into her intense eyes, ones that held such maturity. I really admired her, and I would probably believe anything she told me. “Tobirama doesn’t act any different. He’s always all stern and grumpy, and you know it.”

“Actually, I think you’re just blind to the starkness, dear. He’s shown you his vulnerable side more times than you realize. He cares about you, and holds himself with more pride with you by his side. You’re extremely important to him, to what extent, I’m not sure yet.” The woman tapped the edge of her teacup softly with her fingertips. “I’m beginning to suspect you harbor your own affections for my brother-in-law, no?”

“Mito, please! Keep your voice down. Do you understand what controversy would erupt if people thought I was involved with their Hokage?” I said, my voice hushed to keep from getting looks and attracting listening ears.

“But you do?”

I shook my head, but there were still a thousand thoughts running through my mind, many of them being strong doubts. I was confused myself, how would I answer her question? I blurt out before I could think much, “I-I don’t know! He’s no doubt an attractive man, and incredibly intelligent. He’s always been a friend of mine ever since we were children, and I do enjoy his company, but that could mean anything. I could simply think of him as a friend, right?”

She let out a soft laugh, her free hand rising to rest on my shoulder comfortingly. “I can’t speak for your heart, Y/N, but I suspect you may find yourself having stronger feelings for him than you think. I didn’t know I was in love with Hashirama until my mother knocked some sense into me.”

“Love?” The word echoed in my head as it left my lips.

“I’m not saying you love him yet, not at all. I just think the two of you care for each other much more than you think. You are a bit more aware than he is, though,” she laughed. “He’s a very dense guy, really. Women go right over his head.”

“You’re right. Mito, you are such a great friend. This helped a lot.”

I slipped my arm out of her touch and moved back, straightening out my Ao dai and brushing off the invisible dust bits. But before I could say goodbye and go to find something else to occupy my mind, she caught me midstep.

“Tonight, there’s going to be dancing around midnight. The village would love to see their Hokage dance to one song, I’m sure, and he will need a partner.”

I took what she said to heart. Maybe Tobirama and I could dance under the moonlight tonight, and it would make me realize just how much I cared for him. Only, he never left the tower that night and I didn’t see him until morning. I guess some things aren’t meant to be.

_____________________________

Tobirama was tirelessly working on academy paperwork and assignments when the door burst open across from his desk. The day was long and tedious, and he felt as if it would never end. Truthfully, he had been subconsciously wishing for something exciting to take place.

He would regret that wish.

The door burst open and the wood slammed into the wall behind it. There in the doorway stood a frantic Sarutobi, the man who was supposed to be with Y/N on an important mission. His shirt was stained in red and there were burn marks on the edges of his sleeves and the hem of his collar, soot against his cheek and neck.

Immediately, the Hokage stood to his feet and stared intensely at the man who seemed fine himself, but decorated with the wounds of someone else.

“Hiruzen, what happe-”

“Hokage-sama, it's Y/N.” His heart dropped in his chest.

And his fears were indeed confirmed.

Quickly he rounded his desk and pushed past his pupil in the threshold of his office, his eyes trained straight ahead. He seemed firm, yet he was barely holding himself together internally. His heart clenched in his chest at the thought of the woman being hurt or worse, dying there without him having done anything to save her.

“Where is she?”

“Her ninkin. He took her to the infirmary. But, Hokage, she wasn't looking good and-”

“That's enough,” Tobirama said.

When he arrived at the infirmary, the nurses knew why he was there. They could see the solemn look in his face and the strange desperation in his eyes, and it all was as clear as day to anyone else. He was worried. Concerned out of his mind for one little kunoichi who had made her way into the heart of the Senju.

Her room was so cold. He stepped inside and immediately wanted to leave. It felt like death reigned.

And she just lay there in the bed, her body wrapped in bandages andher forehead covered by a wet towel. The monitor attached to her arm beeped slowly, and each time it did, he felt his stomach churn uncomfortably once again.

Her faithful nin sat on the edge of her bed, his head resting on her legs as he stared at her face.

“I knew you would come, Senju. Sit down. Your brooding in the doorway is not pleasant,” the dog spoke quietly, firm but oh so tired and pained.

He walked close to her side and let out a single tight breath. She looked too pale for comfort, and the heat she normally radiated was too faded. He never thought he would see the day she would be reduced to this. He thought he lost everyone, he failed to remember that Y/N was just as vulnerable.

“I should have been there to protect her. She's been weak since Hashirama passed.”

“And you have been an utter fool. Sending your lover and a fifteen year old child alone on a risky mission in the middle of a war?” The nin argued, not daring to raise his head to peer at him. He didn't need to. He was already aware of his guilt; it wafted from him like a foul stench. “Have you lost your mind, or do you just not give a shit about Y/N?”

The man sighed, shutting his eyes and leaning back in the chair by her bedside. He wanted to curse the heavens and then scream at the top of his lungs till he couldn't breathe anymore. This was all his fault; maybe Popo was right.

No. He wasn't right about any of it. Tobirama would never do anything to hurt Y/N, but he wasn't thinking. He wasn't thinking when he sent his student, who he thought he could trust completely out with a shinobi, his best friend, who was injured and broken.

He made a mistake, but he never meant to hurt her. Something screamed to him, like he was being scolded, and it burned. He felt hot and freezing cold, like he was being scorched alive. That was how guilt felt, and death seemed better than this. Anything seemed better than this torture on his heart.

“What happened?” It was all he could say. All he could think to muster.

“Sunagakure got to them. Their jinjuriki attacked her, and she just barely made it out alive, if not for Sarutobi and all her summons.”

Of course it would be Suna. Ever since the other villages accused them of being greedy and foul when asking for reparations at the peace talks, the two villages hadn't remained pleasant. The war was brutal and there were casualties.

Tobirama reached out with a single rough hand, taking her delicate fingers in his. If only he could have done something. He felt angry and pathetic and terrible as a leader and friend.

Her hand was freezing to the touch as he ran his thumb over her knuckles. They were read and swollen, most likely from throwing punches. Her face was scratched and bruised, a very real bump protruding from just above her temple. His free hand skimmed over her cheek and her bumps and bruises, touch so light it was hard to keep from shaking.

“Did the medics say when she will be better?”

“Could take weeks, could take months. They don't know. She should wake up within the day, but she could be out of commission for a long time. A lot or her ribs are broken and a few of them punctured lungs. Her right leg is broken and her ankle is completely shattered.” The mutt told him exactly what the doctors had told him.

“I can never forgive myself for letting this happen to her.”

“As much as I would prefer the two of you avoid each other for her health, I have to say, she would never blame you for what happened. She cares for you far too much.”

“This is unforgivable.”

“Unfortunately, Y/N has never been one for absolutes, Senju.”

Tobirama didn't reply to that, instead took to staring down hopelessly as the woman who has slipped her way into his mind so long ago with her strange smiles and curious words. He had memorized each and every curve of her face a long time ago. The dip in her cheeks and the curl of her lashes and even the plumpness of her bottom lip. He wanted to trace his fingers over each precious feature, but settled for holding her cheek in his resting palm.

He held her hand just a bit tighter with a longing threatening to drip from his lips. He wished to whisper how he was sorry to her deaf ears, promise he would never let her get hurt again and he would always be by her side.

Yet, he said nothing. He bit his tongue and just observed, memorized.

“You love her. You always have, Tobirama.”

And for some reason, the man couldn't find it in his heart to deny those words.

#naruto #naruto shippuden #tobirama #tobirama x reader #naruto x reader #one shot #naruto one shot #part two #writing #mine #read the other parts its pretty okay #thanks

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timebird84 · 6 years ago

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🎄 PotO Advent Calendar ‘18🎄

AU where Christine kept visiting Erik because she got to know the “man behind the monster.” Based on Leroux’s novel with the addition of Ayesha from Kay’s Phantom. By @darklingsheart3.

Christine had not been afraid of the Angel of Music, not for a long time. When she had first come face-to-face with Erik, the dreaded Opera Ghost and simultaneously her genius musical tutor, she of course had fled. Wouldn’t anyone?

But Christine was not a child anymore. She knew the true meaning of beauty, deeper than what Raoul saw in her (and she was sure he that he saw the same exterior beauty in himself). And what did Erik have? Christine knew of his soul-speaking art, the traumatized and traumatizing music that was emitted from his pipe organ beneath the Paris Opera House and also the sweet tunes sung from his violin. When his fingers pressed the organ’s keys, the sounds of despair rose from the depths of hell, and when they shifted up and down the violin’s fingerboard, the bow sliding across the strings effortlessly, the sounds of joy radiated down from heaven. Erik was a paradox, of that there was no doubt.

On this particular December night, after another vocal triumph from Christine, she slid through her mirror as if it was water rather than glass and headed towards Erik’s lair, her footsteps echoing in the dank, dark corridor. She found Caesar the horse and mounted him, following the path she knew well, which led to the smooth lake below.

Erik was there, waiting for her. Candles were lit around a small table with a white tablecloth, and there was food set out. Had the Opera Ghost made it himself? Christine greeted her beloved with a soft kiss on the cheek, and he removed his mask.

A small surge of bile rose from Christine’s throat, but she held it back. Despite his talent, his gracefulness, his sensuality, Erik’s face was still an odious sight to see, even if Christine loved him. She realized that she was still staring and quickly lowered her gaze to the food before her.

Erik pinched his already-distorted face, long fingers clutching the tablecloth. “You still resent me, my dear.”

“No,” Christine responded, her mouth automatically forming the words and spitting them out. “Of course not.”

“Still, however much you try to hide it, you hate my hideousness, you cower from my loathsome face.” His expression turned even more sour. “Well, then, if you shall not look at me, eat, my love.”

She did, and so did Erik, cautiously picking up his fork and stabbing the meat laid on the expensive plate. He lifted the food to his lips, and Christine looked away. She’d been staring. At his lips. Again.

Erik hated what it looked like when he ate, and Christine was the only person who’d ever seen him place food in his mouth, chew, and swallow. But suddenly Christine was not hungry anymore, her appetite gone and her mind in another place.

It was as if Erik knew what she was thinking. His face transfigured from one of contempt to that of a wicked promise. He grabbed her wrist tightly, a grin widening. Christine grimaced. “That hurts, Erik,” she said, prying his hand away. He immediately was fully seated in his chair again, with no hint that he had thought of anything else besides an innocent meal with Christine. “My apologies, dearest,” he said sincerely. “I do get a bit excited sometimes.” Christine blushed bright red and took a sip of wine to avoid having to construct a response.

“I do have a surprise for you, though,” Erik suddenly announced, flying up from the small table. He looked positively like a child receiving a present. “Come this way, Christine.” She stood, following him in anticipation as he led her to the sitting room she remembered when first entering his underground home, when he still had thought it necessary to bring her by force. She still hadn’t quite forgiven him for that particular...abduction.

“Ta-da!” Erik sang, waving his arm at a small evergreen tucked into the room’s corner. It was adorned with paper flowers and ribbons that cut colorfully across the dark foresty green of the tree’s branches and included a few apples hidden in its depths as well. A few presents were neatly stowed at the tree’s base, wrapped in a plain brown paper and tied with coarse twine. But that was not the true surprise. A cat was snuggled under the tree, a red ribbon tied round her neck. Erik lifted her and turned back to Christine.

“Well?” Erik asked expectantly holding the cat, his eyes upturned in a hopeful smile. “Do you like her?”

“I love her!” Christine whispered, a happy feeling rising in her chest. She reached out to pet the cat. “Poor thing. She looks nearly starved. Wherever did you find her, Erik?”

“I found her scrounging for scraps in the snow, so I took her in,” he replied, stepping closer to her and grabbing her hand. “Her name is Ayesha.” He paused, letting Ayesha jump from his arms. “I--I’ve never celebrated Christmas before, Christine. I’ve never had the chance to spend the holiday with someone I love.” He licked his lips nervously. Christine’s eyes flew to them yet again, and as cracked and thin as they were, she still wanted to taste them. “Erik,” she breathed, her voice hitching. So different this was from her melodious triumphs onstage.

Erik seemed to be helpless as well. His gaze fluttered nervously from her eyes to her lips to the Christmas tree to their interlaced fingers and back again. “Christine?”

“My Angel,” she said in response, and stood on relevé to bring her mouth to his. He stood stunned, locked in place, body like a tall lamppost. A skeletal lamppost. Then, ever so slowly, he leaned down and melted into her, falling to his knees. “Christine, Christine,” he moaned, taking her delicate face in his hands. They no longer smelled of death, but of unspoken promises and mournful wishes. Or perhaps that was just the evergreen, masking the scent.

They broke apart, smiling shyly at each other. “I can’t wait for Christmas,” Christine whispered, a ghost of a smile on her lovely face. Her face was flushed and her golden curls falling around her shoulders, making her even more adorable. Erik couldn’t help her, and leaned in to kiss her again. “Christine, I love you,” he mumbled, caressing her. “I love you, too,” she said, gazing into his eyes, those burning eyes that shone with passion. They kept that way for a time longer, dreading the moment when they had to part. And of course, Ayesha was there, too, twining around their legs.

The clock struck, the sound reverberating through the lair, and the spell was broken. It was time for Christine to return to the land of the living. Goodbye, Phantom. Goodbye, Angel.

#PotO Advent Calendar #poto #phantom of the opera #thank you for your contribution #darklingsheart3 #the poto advent calendar 2018 #timebird84 #long post #phanfiction #third door #third window

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maplespritz · 5 years ago

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Random Event Generator

So, I love this challenge a lot, but unfortunately the list of random events has not been updated in a long time. I took it upon myself to add a lot of events to this list. Everything that I added is not italicized.

To use this list properly, use this website. List is under the cut! Just copy and paste this list into the text box on the web page and press the “Pick one!” button.

Enjoy! <3

redecorate a room, redecorate interior of house, redecorate exterior of house, bulldoze and rebuild, add a room, remove a room, try for baby, move to a new house, move to a larger house, move to a smaller house, quit job, career change, family outing, family squabble, lose a friend, gain a friend, try for baby, throw a party, divorce/break up, kaching, motherlode, move to another town, cheater, adopt, fight another sim, picnic, paint something, write something, cook something, plant something, baby daddy/baby mama, give a sim your least favorite job, give a sim your favorite job, add a sim to your town, add 2 sims to your town, add 3 sims to your town, learn a new skill, earn a skill point, stop paying bills until electricity gets turned off, paint something, move out a young adult or older that is not the current main, move out all young adults and older that are not the current main, heir is now oldest (ongoing), heir is now youngest (ongoing), heir must be female (ongoing), heir must be male(ongoing), makeover a sim, makeover all sims in the house, main’s spouse/significant other cannot work (ongoing), main’s spouse/significant other must get a job (ongoing), collect 5 plants, collect 5 gems, collect 5 frogs, collect 5 mysims, date a coworker/classmate, go fishing, change aspiration, change everyone’s aspiration, mid-life crisis, buy a reward trait, add a sim to your town, add 2 sims to your town, add 3 sims to your town, learn a new skill, earn a skill point, heir is now oldest (ongoing), heir is now youngest (ongoing), heir must be female (ongoing), heir must be male(ongoing), main’s spouse/significant other cannot work (ongoing), main’s spouse/significant other must get a job (ongoing), eat cereal for dinner, eat cereal for every meal for one day, only eat cereal for a week, skip work for a day, don’t clean for a week, go vegetarian for a week, eat only fresh fruits and veggies for a week, sell everything and start over, pick up someone at the bar, pick up someone at the club, go swimming, workout for at least one hour, workout for at least one hour for five days, workout at least one hour once a week (ongoing), text someone, text someone you haven’t texted before, call someone, call someone you haven’t called before, find a penpal, find a penpal, hang out with a friend, collect 5 aliens, collect 5 microscope prints, collect 5 crystals, collect 5 elements, collect 5 fossils, collect 5 metals, collect 5 postcards, collect 5 space prints, collect a space rock, go to work with a career sim (reroll if you don’t have a career sim), go to work with a career sim for a week (reroll if you don’t have a career sim), do not go to work with a career sim for a week (reroll if you don’t have a career sim), give a sim a career, open a shop, collect a geode, start a club, join a club, leave a club (reroll if no sim is in a club), have a club meeting (reroll if no sim is in a club), rent an apartment, attend a festival, collect 5 posters, collect 5 snow globes, sing karaoke, eat from a food stall, give away apartment key, make street art, busk for tips, go camping for a weekend, go camping for three days, go camping for a week, rent a cabin for a weekend, rent a cabin for three days, rent a cabin for a week, explore a cave, go camping for a weekend, go camping for three days, go camping for a week, rent a cabin for a weekend, rent a cabin for three days, rent a cabin for a week, explore a cave, collect 5 insects, go out to eat, open a restaurant, make ice cream, movie night, movie watching party, make popcorn, adopt a dog, adopt a cat, “adopt” a frog or fish, sell a pet, train your dog to do a new trick, breed your pet, dress for the season, do a seasonal activity, make a new holiday, hang out with a special npc (father winter or flower bunny or patchy), wear a costume, grow a seasonal plant, gain a fame level, spend a fame point (if any), record a video or livestream, randomize one lot trait, randomize all lot traits, buy an item worth at least 1000 simoleons, do some yoga, go to a spa, burn some incense, go for a swim, become a vampire, date a vampire, date an alien, cure self of vampirism, have a vampire’s baby, gain vampire points (reroll if not a vampire), spend vampire points (reroll if not a vampire), creepy house makeover, have a child gain a skill point, have a child gain a negative personality trait (parenthood), have a child gain a positive personality trait (parenthood), make your house more kid friendly, buy a kids toy, visit the jungle, buy an archaeology table, gain a skill point, discover an archaeological find, explore a temple, find a treasure, find a secret lot in selvadorada, buy supply gear (reroll if not on vacation in selvadorada), taste the local food, visit a venue, get a drink at the bar, learn some of the local culture (reroll if not on vacation in selvadorada), finish a chapter in the strangerville mystery, eat the forbidden fruit of the Mother (strangerville), become a plantsim, buy an instrument, play basketball, pluck your eyebrows, get glasses, change an outfit, get braces, get acne, wear a costume for everyday wear for a week, get cosmetic surgery, lose weight, gain weight, gain muscle, wear cowboy boots, livestream a video game, drink some coffee, wear different makeup, wear weird makeup, dye your hair a fun color, dye your hair a natural color, dye your eyebrows a different color, get a tattoo, throw a luxurious party, buy a hot tub, decorate your garden/backyard, get a slip ‘n slide, get a pool, drain your pool, lounge outside, drown, kill a sim, freeze to death, burn to death, eat poor pufferfish nigiri, buy a rodent, die from rodent fever, be struck by lightning, be struck by lightning two times in a row, starve a sim, cause an emotional death, drink some lemonade, steal from a sim (reroll if not a kleptomaniac), throw a spooky party, add the haunted lot trait, add the cursed lot trait, add the off the grid lot trait, redecorate your garden, buy a wishing well, make a wish on the wishing well (donation first), make a wish on the wishing well (no donation first), redecorate a child’s room (reroll if no child’s room is available to redecorate), hire a butler, hire a maid, hire a gardener, order pizza, hire a repair service for any appliance breaks for the next week, repair everything yourself, put all electronics outside next time it rains, change one room into something else (eg bedroom into a bathroom), buy a microwave, only eat microwaved meals, go bowling, buy a bowling alley for your home lot, master bowling, learn to dance better (one skill point), adopt a baby, adopt a child, adopt a toddler, have a toddler playdate, have a child make two new friends, have a child host a sleepover, give your dog or cat a new outfit, add a ghost to your household, add a vampire to your household, add an alien to your household, have everyone in your household become plantsims, celebrate day of the dead, grow a death flower, make ambrosia, buy a money tree, add a basement, add a second floor, add an addition to your house, build a greenhouse, meet the tragic clown, become a tragic clown for three days, hire a nanny (reroll if you have no children), pick up a new hobby, build a rocketship, grow a cowplant, get married, get engaged, lose all of your money, lose your home, get a 5000 simoleon loan (pay it back within this generation), buy a bubble blower, buy a video game system, play video games for two hours every day for a week, randomize all traits for this generation, cheat on your significant other, figure out your sexuality, woohoo, go shopping, use the cupcake machine, buy a clock, make a shrine to anything you want, make a special room (a clock room or a painting room for example), dance party, get a part time job, get a freelance job, pick up a new hobby or skill, spend 3000 simoleons, wear an item of clothing from the opposite gender, make a new friend, take your child to the park, mourn a lost loved one, throw a party at a cemetery, change up your look (goth to prep for example), only decorate the house with handmade paintings, decorate the house with handmade sculptures, buy a vet clinic, visit a vet clinic, buy treats for your pet (reroll if you have none), move in a roommate, adopt a teen, runaway as a teen, get into a fight, make an enemy, get a scar, pull a prank, hack something, write a book, write a song, purchase a journal, age up a sim, give a sim a potion of youth, read a book, go streaking, visit Sixam, go to a hidden lot in any world, answer every social call for a week, have an affair with your neighbor, have a teenager throw a party while parents go on vacation, be evil for a day (if already an evil or mean sim be nice for a day), skip work, call in sick

#ts4 #s4 #the sims 4 #sims 4 #sims 4 gameplay #the sims 4 gameplay #s4 gameplay #ts4 gameplay #ts4 random gameplay #s4 random gameplay #box of chocolates legacy #ts4 box of chocolates legacy

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sagara-megumi · 7 years ago

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SasuSaku Month - Day 15: The Slug and the Snake || [Fanfic] Till Death Do Us Part

Title: Till Death Do Us Part

Rating: T/PG-13

Notes: Sorry to keep you waiting, but at last, the final chapter is here ^^ It’s sad but at the same time accomplishing because it’s the first time that I finish a multi-chaptered story and that I write so much in such amount of time.

The notes are a bit long this time, but I’d like you to read them, since they can be useful.

This time, the prompt is symbolic. Looking for information for my next story (that hopefully will use some of the prompts I still haven’t done) I found on a book about Japanese Mythology that the snake, among other things, symbolises lust. Imagine the possibilities that opened in my mind at that moment *grin* Regarding the slug, the only thing I could find was the healing power, so Sakura gets stuck in the medical field once again.

I decided that both their names are written in kanji, since both of them belong to old families (I haven’t seen any examples of this written in hiragana/katakana, like in the manga). For those who feel curious… 団扇佐助 // 春野桜 (I know that in Sasuke’s case those are the kanji for “uchiwa“, but… ^^U)

The events described in the fanfic are my impressions after watching several videos and reading about the topic. There will be mistakes, of course, so I apologise in advance.

Be aware that the rating has gone up. There’s nothing really explicit but you’ll know what’s happening. If I labelled it incorrectly, please don’t hesitate to tell me. Since a few years, the rating system has been a mess. I’ve found really strong things under the M/R and even the T/PG-13 tags and really innocent ones under T/PG-13 so, I’m more or less following my instinct.

Thanks to the lovely @isa-chi who put up with my ramblings and my frustration, and advised me on a couple of topics especially related to OOC. And also to all the people who read it, sent messages, liked, reblogged and followed me, waiting patiently for updates. You don’t know how happy each of those single things made me. And thank you to @sasusakumonths for organising it. It’s been really fun ♡

As always, if there’s something wrong (spaces, brackets…), please, tell me. I hope you enjoy this final instalment :)

Glossary: I’ve tried to keep the Japanese terms to a minimum, though some things are not accurately translated

-uchikake: the bridal kimono. It can be white (the most common used for the ceremony) or with colours (normally used for the celebration). it’s much more heavier than a normal kimono, and it’s tied differently too. -onigiri: riceball -nori: the seaweed that is wrapped around the onigiri

Words: 7339

TILL DEATH DO US PART

Drinking a sip of her coffee, Sakura observed as Sasuke started to complete their marriage form, the pen in his right hand tracing the kanji of his full name slowly, as if he feared to make a mistake. They had decided to fill it and take it to the Ward Office together so, early in the morning, Sakura had gone to his apartment carrying the documents she would need.

Finally, the day had come. After their engagement, as soon as Sasuke had recovered, they had visited each family to announce that they were getting married. She still remembered the satisfaction in her grandmother’s eyes as Sasuke bowed to ask permission to her and her parents to marry her. At the beginning, she had felt a bit offended. It was as if Chiyo was telling her that she had caught the prized candidate when that had been the last thing on her mind practically from the beginning. However, later that night as she made her way to the kitchen for a snack before going to bed, she found her kneeling in front of the altar dedicated to her late grandfather, talking lovingly to him about the happiness she felt because her granddaughter had found a wonderful man, that she had seen in his eyes how much he loved her; reminiscing the time when they had met and how love had grown between them in the same way as in the young couple; that now she understood why they had taken their time to made their decision. And her heart had gone to the old lady who still mourned the death of his dear husband.

In the Uchiha clan’s house, things had not been very different. As Sasuke did, she had tried to ignore the whispers she heard about how pleased the elders were that the second son of the main branch had attained to such a wonderful heiress. Though, she had to say that his closest family had been truly happy for him as they wished them happiness.

“Sakura,” Sasuke’s voice, a bit disgruntled, reached her. “Are you listening to me?”

With a jolt, she looked at her fiancée, who was watching her with a delicate crease in his brows. He sighed.

“Obviously, not.”

“Sorry, Sasuke-kun… I had something on my mind…”

“I saw…” he smirked lightly. “Last minute jitters?”

She pouted, her eyes flashing defiantly.

“Of course not!”

He moved his head to the sides, a gesture that Sakura interpreted as mocking resignation, and then, he handed her the ball point.

“I’m finished.”

For a moment, she seemed to find fascination even in the action of him giving her that pen and she exhaled, exasperated at herself. She was too absent-minded that morning. She took it and with precise strokes, she wrote the information needed and took her family stamp to seal the document.

“Alright” Sasuke said standing up and putting the form inside the folder with his documents. “Let’s go. Today we have a very busy day ahead.”

Sakura looked at his retreating form for a moment before rising from her seat. It was the first time since they had met that she saw him in such informal clothes. It was summer, so he was wearing a dark blue polo shirt and white jeans. She could not help swoon a little. That man, who she had seen attract the attention of women without doing anything special wherever he went, was going to be hers from that day on.

“What’s with you today?” he was already in the hall, with his deck shoes on and one hand on his waist, looking at her with a mixture of concern and confusion. “Are you feeling well?”

“Yes!” she walked quickly to his side and put her cream-coloured sandals on, “I’m just a bit distracted.”

“Why?” he asked, checking that he had the keys for the house and the car in his pockets.

“Well” she put her hands behind her back and looked at the flat somewhat wistfully. “Today is a very important day… And, this will be my house from now on…” he looked at her with slightly widened eyes. “I suppose I’m feeling a bit melancholic apart from the usual nervousness…”

Sasuke’s features became warmer and he put a hand on her head, stroking it affectionally.

“Come on…”

They arrived at the Ward Office a few minutes after it had opened and finished with the last procedures quickly.

“The certificate will be available in two days” the friendly clerk at the desk told them. “Congratulations on your marriage.”

They thanked him and went back, Sasuke looking at his watch. Fortunately, it had taken less time than they had thought, so there would not be any delays in the tight schedule that they had that day. After his collapse, they had become very busy with their works and the wedding arrangements, but he had been careful not to cross the line again, especially with Sakura, Ino, Itachi and Naruto checking on him every day. The last few weeks, however, he had tried to do as much as possible to be able to clear those three days, from that one to the end of the week, for the wedding and an extremely short honeymoon that they had decided to spend mainly at home after the stressful preparations. They would have time for a proper wedding trip later on.

As they came out, they stopped and looked at each other, smiling. Even if they called off the shrine ceremony and all the events that were taking place in a few hours, they were now officially husband and wife.

Sasuke grabbed her hand with a satisfied expression on his face and started walking toward the car, she following him swiftly. But she could not help looking over her shoulder towards the entrance of the Office, swallowing hard and feeling a sudden rush of emotion. She had entered there being Haruno Sakura, and though nothing special had happened, a different person had come out. From that moment on, she was Uchiha Sakura.

“… Going forward, we’ll love each other, trust one another, share the good times and the bad and swear that this will stay unchanged throughout our lifetime.”

Sakura’s hands trembled slightly listening to Sasuke take their wedding vow before the gods in the shrine that his clan belonged to, as they held the paper where it was written. His voice, clear and steady was a reflection of his resolution to honour that promise.

“Husband, Uchiha Sasuke”

Despite her agitation, she breathed deeply, wanting to answer with the same conviction as him.

“Wife: Sakura”

Sasuke folded the paper again and left it carefully on the reclining set before them, stealing a glance at his bride. She had her head tilted down and he could only see her lips, painted in a rich shade of red, under the cotton hat she wore for the ceremony. To say that she was beautiful in her wedding kimono was not enough compliment. He had literally stopped breathing when he had seen her clad in the beautiful white uchikake embroidered with cranes and flowers that, as she had told him before while planning the wedding, had belonged to her family for years as her grandmother and her mother had worn it before her.

The Shinto priest, then, brought a tray with a box and offered it to Sasuke. He took the wedding ring with great care and offered her his other hand. She lifted hers, her heart beating wildly in her chest, and he took it as he put the ring on her finger. Sakura realised that he was trembling a bit and she lifted her face to him. What she saw stole her breath away. Maybe it was not the most beautiful smile of the world, but the one that graced Sasuke’s lips at that moment was radiant with content and tenderness. Sakura’s eyes filled with tears and she would have ended up crying if the priest had not put the tray in front of her. Swallowing hard and clenching her teeth to control herself, feeling relieved that with the hat she wore no one could notice her moment of weakness, she picked up the other ring. He extended his hand and slowly, feeling as if her heart could burst from all the happiness she was feeling, she put it on his finger.

“Ready?” one of the women dressed formally who were at the door of the reception hall looked at Sasuke and Sakura, and they nodded.

The double door opened and they entered the room, their guests clapping enthusiastically. Sakura had changed some of her clothes. She had taken off the hat and now wore her hair in a modest bun adorned with traditional hairpins, and had changed her white uchikake for another colourful one which belonged to Sasuke’s family.

They arrived at their table and bowed to the guests. Just then, the waiters and waitresses came out of a door and started filling their glasses while the host told the people they were going to toast to the groom and the bride.

Soon after, the food was served and the speeches began. One by one, their kindergarten teacher, Kakashi, their professors at university, Tsunade, as her mentor, and Itachi, as Sasuke’s superior, told anecdotes about the years spent with them.

Then, Naruto went up the platform and Sasuke felt himself cringe. They had gone through a lot together, good things and bad ones and their bond was practically unbreakable, but also, his best friend was aware of all his failures and most embarrassing moments, and though he was completely sure that he could trust him with his life, he also knew that sometimes, he talked too much. He could not help having a bad feeling about it.

“They make a fine couple, don’t you think, Madara-san?”

The man, with his arm crossed on his chest, nodded as he watched Sasuke and Sakura listen to his best friend, Naruto, give a speech which made people laugh and clap, as he talked about some of the moments they had lived together.

“I have to confess that, at the beginning, I was quite sceptical about your suggestion of arranging for them to meet, Chiyo-san” he said with a small smile, very similar to Sasuke’s. “I thought that you desired someone in the medical field for the future heiress of your legacy. Someone who doesn’t have any knowledge, like my grandson, is not going to be of great help.”

“I understood soon enough that my granddaughter didn’t need a husband like that. She’s extraordinarily intelligent and a brilliant doctor; after all, she’s trained under the famous physician Senju Tsunade” she said sparing a fleeting glance towards the renowned doctor, sitting at a table not far from theirs. “Any man in the same field of expertise would feel intimidated by her, even resentful. And, despite being burdened by responsibility and tradition, I love my granddaughter and I was not going to get her into a marriage where she would end up suffering. However, Sasuke-san can lend his support in other ways. Financially, of course, but also he can offer her advice based on his experience. A hospital chairman is a doctor and a business person at the same time.”

“You had your plans well laid” he smirked. “I’m impressed.”

“Well, not all of them” she folded her hands on her lap. “I hoped that, being young, they would grow some affection for each other with time. However, my wish became true much earlier. It is obvious that Sasuke-san cares deeply for my granddaughter, and sincerely, I could not ask for more.”

“Honestly I even thought once that he would never marry” Naruto continued his speech. “He’s got a weird personality and he sometimes doesn’t talk, probably thinking he’s so cool. Also, he can be really arrogant and a bit twisted, but he’s the best man I’ve ever met in my life. Sakura-chan, I know he’s a hassle and a pig head, as you probably noticed a few months ago when he fell ill, but, please, take care of him. I’m sure you two are going to be the happiest couple in the world” he made a victory sign. “After Hinata-chan and me, of course.”

People laughed as they clapped and Naruto went back to his seat. Then, as the host announced the next speech, Sasuke took a sip of his drink, relieved. Apart from some comments, like the last ones, about his character, and that he had talked about the first time he had got drunk, things had not gone so bad.

The hall became darker as Ino took her place behind the microphone.

“Good afternoon. I’m Yamanaka Ino and I have the fortune of knowing this two people for years. But today, I’m not going to talk as Uchiha Sasuke’s secretary, but as Sakura’s friend” she paused for a moment to look at her notes. “Sakura and I met in the first year of elementary school, when we ended up in the same classroom, sitting one behind the other. As you see, we have a long story together…”

A soft music started playing and they all turned to a screen located over the main door, where a video started to show. It displayed photographs of the two girls since their childhood: school events, festivals, graduations, parties… Ino had a memory for each of those moments, which people laughed about or had to dab at their eyes with handkerchiefs. Finally, the video ended with the two of them laughing at the entrance of the Todai University, the day of Sakura’s graduation.

“When she told me that her omiai partner was the President I work for, I was a bit wary because I discovered then that I was linked to both, and it was going to be uncomfortable if one of them felt hurt in case that there was a rejection. But when she said they were getting married, I was really glad.” she turned to the couple. “President, the only thing I’m going to ask of you in this life is to make her happy. Despite our arguments and differences in many things, she’s one of the people I love the most and, forgive me for my impertinence, I’d hate you if you made her suffer her. Congratulations…” she inhaled, trying to hold back her tears. “And stop crying, Forehead!

She bowed and Sakura felt the strong urge to run to her best friend and hug her. However, she had to repress it, since it was not the moment and with her clothes she would probably make a fool of herself, so she restricted herself to watch Ino coming down the platform and going straight to her seat, trying to hold her tears. She had to remember to hold her tight the next time she saw her.

“Are you fine?” Sai whispered putting an arm around Ino’s shoulders so she could lean her head on his shoulder, not caring about maintaining the appearances or the curious looks they were receiving.

She nodded and he dropped a soft kiss on her head.

“Good…” he paused for a moment. “Did you finally graduate from him?”

She nodded again and he could not help the smile that drew across his lips, relief washing over him. His heart filled with content at knowing that Ino was now completely and truly his, as he realised that a very small part of him that had been well hidden deep inside, had been really unhappy and jealous. Maybe, it was time for them to start thinking about tying the knot too.

Sasuke stood up, after a few moments. It was time for the groom speech. However, he did not move, he just looked at Sakura that smiled, carefully rising from her chair too. They were going to break the rules a bit. There was a soft surprised humming as the guests saw that both of them moved to the microphone, the expectation hanging in the air heavily.

He took a small slip of paper from the folds of his kimono and opened it, drawing in a soft breath. He was used to speaking in public, to weave his way and opinions without any doubts to business partners, directors and associates. However, he had never been good at expressing his emotions, at telling the people he cared for his feelings. His heart had been closed for many years after he had understood his position in his family and what they expected of him. His life no longer belonged to him, but to the clan. But that did not mean that he had become cold or had stopped loving them. That speech had taken him a lot of time to write, carefully choosing his words, rewriting once and again what he wanted to say. He only hoped he had been able to convey his thoughts in his words.

“Thank you to all of you for coming today and share with us this joyous event despite your busy schedules…” after the standard greeting, he breathed again. “When I was five, my life changed completely. From being a carefree child, I became someone who would have an important role in the future of his clan, and though, as a boy, could not see farther than my own selfishness, getting angry because things were not the same anymore, my family’s guidance and affection helped me to take the correct choices in life. I am what I am thanks to my father, who taught me the value of working hard, having perseverance and taking pride in my origins, my mother, warm and caring, but also stern when she had to be, and my brother who protected and comforted me as a child, and is someone I look up to every day” he glanced at Sakura. “Today, my wife and I are starting a new life. We are inexperienced in many things and we will probably stumble from time to time. I hope that you can continue watching over us the same as you have done for me up to now” he turned to Sakura. “Our beginning was difficult and we were unsure and full of doubts, and we have been through difficult moments. However, despite not being married, not even engaged, you were beside me during that time, strong and steadfast. Thank you, Sakura-san. I hope that in the years to come, I can be your support as you have been, and are, mine.”

He bowed, and Sakura had to bite her lower lip hard to contain her tears. When he lifted his head and saw her efforts, he took his handkerchief from his kimono and gave it to her with a tender smile that made those who saw it stare in awe. Sakura took a deep breath and straightened. Turning to their guests, she nodded.

“I’m sorry…”

Then, Sasuke took a step back to let her take his place. She took a paper from her obi and unfolded it. Breathing once more, she started reading.

“Thank you for being with us on such an important day in our lives” she inhaled again, calming herself, her voice becoming more confident. “I have always been aware of my role in life, and I embraced it enthusiastically since I was a little girl. I come from a family of doctors and I saw like a natural thing that I would become one in the future. I am one now. However, it’s not my merit alone. I had, along the way up to now, three wonderful people, my grandmother, my father and my mother, who were an example and my inspiration for all I wanted to achieve and I have been fortunate to count on their support and their advice in the steps I have taken along the way.” she paused for a moment. “Even though an omiai can be a very difficult event nowadays, when life offers us so many possibilities and ideas, I’m very glad to have followed my grandmother’s counsel and gone through it, because I met someone who has become very important for me” she tilted her head and looked at him. “Sasuke-san, let’s walk together this path that we have started today and build a household of our own following the example of the people who had surrounded and cherished us until this moment. I am sure that they will continue offering us their encouragement and love. As for us, as in all journeys, we will probably have good times and also encounter difficulties in our marriage. I want to be able to enjoy the first ones and solve little by little the second ones together with you, till death do us part.”

She gave a step backwards and together with her husband, she bowed to the guests, who were clapping and some of them crying openly. They could even hear one or two cheers from their louder friends. Then, two assistants gave them bouquets of flowers, and they made their way to the back, where their families were awaiting them. They bowed respectfully and then, gave the flowers to their mothers. Mikoto had a hard time controlling her tears, deeply moved because her younger child had never said what he truly felt since he was small and Fugaku put his hand on his back, smiling proudly at the respectable man that his son had become.

“Thank you…”

A tear fell down Sakura’s mother as she took the flowers from her daughter, who held her hand affectionately.

When they stepped aside instead of posing for a photograph, all the people in the hall held their breath again, expectant. Both of them approached the table nearest the place where their parents were, and the assistant gave her a second bouquet that she gave to her grandmother.

“Grandmother…” the old lady took it a bit disconcerted. “I know that you’re not in favour of breaking traditions and protocol, but it’s thanks to you that we’re here today. Sasuke-kun and I wanted to give you this.”

Chiyo blushed a bit.

“But it was Madara-san’s idea too…”

“But we can’t give him flowers, can we?” she said with a smile.

Then, she straightened and turned to his grandfather, bowing again.

“Thank you.”

Sasuke sighed as he adjusted his grey tie watching his reflection in the full-length mirror before letting one of the assistants help him with the frock coat. Despite liking kimonos quite a lot, he was definitely much more comfortable with those clothes, so similar to his everyday ones. He took the gloves and, nodding to the assistants, came out of the changing room. He walked along the corridor to where Sakura’s door was, ready to wait.

After the photographs with their family, they had gone out of the hall for a change of clothes. As they were planning the wedding, he had asked Sakura if she did not want to wear one of those big white Western wedding dresses that Japanese women dreamt of. Though her answer had been somewhat vague saying that it had been a little girl’s fantasy, he had realised that she still (tenía la ilusión). And he had finally managed to convince her to do it. Though they belonged to old families and they were going to follow tradition to the end, the wedding was theirs, and they could allow themselves a whim. Like the one with their grandparents. He had been surprised when he had learnt that his grandfather had played an important role in their omiai, despite being all Sakura’s grandmother idea. And when she had asked him if he minded that she paid a little homage to her, he had thought it would be nice to thank the patriarch of the clan too.

He was looking out of one of the windows on the wall opposite her room when he heard the door behind him open, and he turned. The sight left him breathless. Sakura was at the door, being helped by her assistants, and she was looking at him with a mixture of excitement and hope. She was wearing a beautiful empire style wedding dress with sleeves that only covered her shoulders, a bodice decorated with small pearls and a flowing skirt with two layers embroidered with lace. Her hair was tied in a side bun on the left side of her head framed by some organza lotus flowers.

“Oh, the groom” one of the assistants said with a smile. “We hope you are pleased with the bride’s look.”

He felt a knot in his throat. He wanted to say something and make her happy, it was obvious that she was expecting him to do it, but he just could not do it; not with those strangers listening and the people near the reception hall door waiting. If one day he complimented her, he wanted it to be for her alone.

Sakura smiled softly, as if she could sense his inner conflict and, turning to her helpers, she thanked them. Then, she approached her handsome husband, who was still looking at her with admiration, and took him by the arm. He did not need words to say what she wanted to know.

“Come on, Sasuke-kun” Sakura started walking towards the hall, changing the topic. “We still have a cake to cut and many greetings to give” he groaned a bit and she smiled widely. “And the after-party, let’s not forget about that!”

He chuckled lightly, letting her drag him away from the women who had put him in a predicament, calming down with her chatting. And he decided to follow her cue teasing her a bit.

“So, your intention from the beginning was to kill your groom of exhaustion and become a widow on your first day of marriage…?”

“What a day, um?” Sakura said with a sigh as she looked at Sasuke’s back, who was busy in the kitchen.

They had arrived at their flat a few minutes before, completely spent after the after-party with their friends and younger members of their families, where they had been drinking and playing games. However, neither in the reception nor that gathering they had been able to eat much so they had just been finishing taking off their shoes when Sasuke’s stomach had made a rumbling sound that had made her start laughing. He had shown her an irritated expression and had called her annoying but it was difficult to take his soreness seriously seeing the blush that adorned his cheeks.

After he had taken revenge tapping her on the head lightly and she had calmed down, he had suggested an early dinner and they had entered the kitchen. However, as she was asking him for an apron, he had taken her by the shoulders and sat her down on a stool, alleging that she had to be more tired than him, since her efforts during the wedding had been greater.

He made a sound of assertion as his hands took another scoop of rice and moulded it like an onigiri that he put on a plate.

“Are you going to wear that for the rest of the day?” he asked looking over his shoulder, clearly referring to her wedding dress.

“Of course!” she said with a childish smile, lifting her legs and wriggling her toes. “I really love it and it was very expensive, so the least I can do is enjoy it as much as possible” he chuckled lightly as he bent, opening a cabinet on his right and picking up a wooden board to cut the nori for the onigiri. “I’m thinking I could have it altered and have a new dress for any event that we have to attend.”

“It’s a good idea” he spared a brief glance at his grey frock coat, neatly folded on a chair near her. “Maybe I could do the s- Ouch!”

Instinctively, Sakura stood and rushed to his slightly crouched figure. He had his finger in his mouth, a mixture of pain and annoyance marring his face.

“Let me see” she commanded him with a professional tone, taking his hand and inspecting the cut.

Fortunately, it was not very deep but some thick drops of blood were running down his finger.

“Where’s the first-aid kit?”

“In that cupboard”

She put his finger under water from the sink tap and went to retrieve it. Looking for some bandages, she took his finger and inspected it again before pressing firmly to cut the bleeding. She guided him to the stool where she had been sitting and smiled softly to him as she lifted the gauze to take a better look at the little wound. After a few more minutes of pressure, she picked up another piece of cloth and dabbed at the cut delicately with some antibiotics cream she had found. Finally, she put a plaster on it.

“There, almost healed. Keep it covered for two day-” she brought her hand to her mouth. “Sorry… It’s the habit…”

“Thank you” he shook his head once, not really minding her doctor side showing.

She smiled as she put everything back in the kit and put it in the same cupboard.

“And now, let me finish dinner, okay? It’s better if you don’t get that cut dirty” she looked at the drawers on her left pensively. “And, it’s better if I get used to things here soon.”

He smiled, feeling inwardly happy.

“Second drawer.”

An hour later, Sakura heard Sasuke’s footsteps behind her and she turned in time for him to offer her a cup of tea. She smiled thankfully and he sat down next to her, giving a sip to his drink. They were sitting on the sofa in the living room watching the landscape, after enjoying dinner. As that night many months ago, they had turned it so it faced the large window, hearing the muffled sounds that came from the street and watching the sun sink slowly behind the buildings in a comfortable silence. Little by little the living room became darker.

“Give me your cup” Sasuke said standing up and going to the kitchen to leave them on the sink.

When he came back, he sat beside her again, looking at the rays of the sun reflected on the glass of the buildings near theirs and the light of the cars that went up the street opposite them, travelling in precise order. Absentmindedly, he took her hand in his, caressing the back with his thumb for a few minutes, and she answered to his touch squeezing it lightly. When he felt the roughness of the stones, he looked down and watched for a moment the two rings on her finger, playing with them lightly with his index. Then, he brought it to his lips and kissed it reverently, closing his eyes briefly.

When he opened his lids, slowly, he found her gaze on him, full of tenderness, and a soft smile on her lips. He leant forward and she met him halfway. It was a simple, lingering brushing of their mouths but it made them giddy with emotion and filled their hearts with happiness.

The first kiss of their married life.

They parted after a few moments and looked at each other, smiling softly. Then, Sasuke touched her forehead with his, and she laughed a bit.

“Are you happy?”

“Yes…” his smile widened a bit and she looked at him. “And you…?”

As a reply, he cupped her cheek with one hand, brushing her skin with his thumb. Sometimes, he felt so useless for not being able to express what was truly in his heart openly, to tell her all she wanted and needed to hear. She deserved so much to listen to them… However, his reserved character, his stern upbringing had made him like that. Maybe, someday, he would be able to tell her all the things he kept inside. As he looked into her eyes, shining with delight he found himself fortunate for having found a woman who understood him.

He kissed her again, this time deeper, wishing to express what he could not put into words, giving his all each time their mouths separated for a brief intake of breath just to join again more passionately. The soft moan that escaped her throat filled his veins with desire, and this time, he did not bother to tame it. She did not have to go back home, she was not a partner, she was not his fiancée… He did not have to contain himself anymore.

He left her lips and hid his head in her neck, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses. She sighed his name and he went back to her lips, satisfied at her equally intense response.

When they parted, completely out of breath and quivering, Sasuke stood up and put an arm around her waist and another under her knees, lifting her from the sofa, her arms circling his shoulders, and he crossed the living room and entered the corridor, towards the bedroom.

“It’s still daylight…” she murmured, hiding her face in his shoulder.

“And, do you have any complaints? Do you want me to stop…?”

Her only reply was to move her head negatively, a deep blush covering her pretty face.

The room was still bathed in a soft orange glow. Closing the door after them with his foot, he advanced a few steps, kissing her again, before letting her stand again. He did not let her go, though. After releasing her lips, he brushed his mouth on her neck, just below her jaw.

“Do you want me to help you with that” he murmured softly, touching the flowers that decorated her hair.

“Do you mind…?”

He shook his head and turned her, facing the full-length mirror on the corner nearer the bed and they looked at their reflection for a moment before she lifted her arms and started taking pins from the headdress. He did the same with her bun, feeling it with his fingertips and removing them carefully not to pull her hair. Occasionally he gazed at the mirror. She was trying really hard not to look at it and he could not help a little smile at his wife’s sudden shyness.When he had gathered a bunch of them in his hand, he looked around and finally decided to leave them on the bedside table. He switched on the lamp to see better.

“You should think about what you want to change or buy for the flat…” he commented as he touched one inside her bun. “I suppose it’s not very comfortable for a woman…”

“Your house is fine, Sasuke-kun!” she said turning, and with the sudden movement, the pin he had just discovered and picked escaped from between his fingertips. “Just two or three things will be enough, and we can bring them from my former bedroom.”

“Our house” he said, and she looked at him a bit confused. “It’s not just mine, it’s ours.”

“Ah” her fingers flew to her mouth, realising her mistake. “Sorry…”

“You’ll get used to it…” he replied, touching her head lightly to give her the clue of where to tilt it, looking at the place where the pin he had missed was and retrieving it, his breath falling on her nape, making her blush again.

They continued their task for a few more minutes until all her hair was free from the hairstyle, and Sasuke started combing the tresses down her back, but it was really difficult with all the spray the assistants who had helped her with her change of look had applied. Then, he bent a little and he kissed the curve between her neck and shoulder.

“Sasuke-kun…” she said gasping softly when he grazed the tender skin just above her collarbone. “Ca-Can you cover the mirror…?”

He smirked against her neck and, leaving her, he grabbed the bedspread and threw it over the mirror.

“Is that better?”

She nodded and he extended his hand, touching her red cheeks. With her dishevelled hair falling on her shoulders and back, her darkened green eyes that shone like emeralds in the dim light and her red lips, swollen from being kissed, she offered the most tempting and lovely sight he had ever had in front of him.

“Sakura…”

As if falling under a spell, it was her who approached him this time, kissing him as her hands cupped his face, and he held her close, tangling his fingers in her hair. The others went to his shirt, suddenly bothered by it. They parted and she looked at him, one of her hands brushing his, as if asking if she could continue. He dropped it to his side, his gaze not leaving her for a second as she took the button with trembling fingers.

As each one came undone, his skin was exposed to her sight and she felt the temptation to kiss it, Sasuke noticed the change in her breath and the indecisive spark of her eyes.

“You can do as you wish” he murmured in her ear, his voice lowering down an octave, and she shivered. “I’m your husband…”

She let out a quivering exhale and crossed the step that still separated them, hiding her head and kissing him in the curve between his shoulder and neck. He took a sharp intake of breath as her arms made their way around his waist, pressing her body to his. And Sasuke’s fingers flew to her hips. As her mouth left timid kisses along his collarbone, his hands made their way upwards slowly until they found the zipper of her dress. It was then that she noticed the slight trembling of his fingertips.

The wedding dress fell on the floor in a pool of chiffon and embroidered organza, leaving her dressed in only her tights, undergarments and a short satin and lace white slip which covered her body.

“You’re so beautiful…” he whispered, and her heart missed a beat, thundering loudly just a moment later, as she felt her eyes damp.

He smiled tenderly as he cleaned her unshed tears with his sleeve and brushed her lips softly, his hands taking off his shirt, dropping it near her dress. Then, he held her tight by the waist, lifting her up and laying her on the bed delicately, kissing her and burying one of his hands in her hair as he joined her, and the other started a path filled with soft curves and the movement of her agitated breath. For what seemed hours, he worshipped her body with kisses and caresses as her hands slid across his shoulders and back as far as she could reach, whimpering when he found a sensitive spot. Slowly, the last clothes that still separated them fell on the floor and she could not help a shiver feeling each centimetre of her skin covered by his, their bodies getting warmer and warmer as passion slowly erased from their mind any thoughts that were not related to the other, or what they were feeling.

She called his name, gasping at the honorific, and he kissed it from her lips, not wanting to hear something that put a barrier between them. There, in the privacy of the bedroom that now belonged to the two of them, they were simply two human beings that loved each other in body, soul and mind: Sasuke and Sakura.

Fingers lacing and breaths mingling in their kisses, the tension between them increased with each passing moment until it suddenly broke. Her heart overflowed with feelings for him, and his followed a few moments later with only one certainty: She belonged to him as he to her.

Still regaining their breaths, Sasuke embraced Sakura protectively and rolled over on the bed, resting on his back. He was tired, the traces of passion slowly dissolving in his blood replaced by a feeling of completion that he had never experienced before. He closed his eyes, savouring it, smiling as she nuzzled his chest softly. He brushed her hair from her damp body.

“Maybe I should have it cut…” she said in a slightly raspy voice, lifting a hand and removing some strands that gone unnoticed to his fingers.

“I like your hair…” he stated in a gentle voice. “Maybe we should have left it in that hairstyle if you felt uncomfortable…”

She mused his words for a moment.

“I’d probably had all the pins piercing my scalp” she paused and hid her face a little in his chest. “Maybe next time I can tie it up before…”

Sasuke chuckled and kissed the top of her head. His hand brushed the space between her shoulder blades and she shivered a bit.

“Are you cold?”

She shook her head briefly, but stayed quiet, not moving except for her slow breathing. He would have thought she was falling asleep if it was not for the barely noticeable agitation of her fingers on his skin

“Are you alright?” he whispered, deeply concerned about having done something to upset her.

Did I pay attention to your needs? Was I too brusque, too anxious? Did you feel the same pleasure? That simple question was filled with so many others, with insecurity and a hint of regret, that Sakura felt guilty, and moved. She was just feeling overwhelmed by the powerful sensations that still coursed through her body and mind, She had never thought she could feel something like that. But how to tell him? How to make him understand the strength of her emotions at that moment? She only knew one way. She lifted her head and smiled tenderly, making him relax. She took his hand in hers and brushed a kiss on his palm, and then on his ring finger, the thin band of gold warm to her lips.

“Yes…” .

It was already well entered the morning when Sasuke opened his eyes with a soft intake of breath, and immediately, his features softened when the first thing he saw was Sakura’s face, still deeply asleep. Her expression was completely relaxed and content, her cheeks still slightly flushed and her lips a bit swollen from his kisses. They had loved each other once and again between short slumbers and sweet moments of titillation until just a few hours ago, and though he felt exhausted and tempted to curl up with her and go back to his dreams, a part of him fought back, wanting nothing more than to watch her until the moment when she woke up. Blinking a few times, he propped up on one elbow, resting his head on his hand, lifting his free arm to brush back a loose strand which had slid down across her cheek delicately, revelling in each single detail and engraving them all in his mind.

An hour later, Sakura opened her eyes, slowly, and her clouded gaze fell on his face. He was watching her with a tender smile.

“Good morning…” he whispered, cupping her neck and kissing her forehead softly.

“Good morning…”

THE END

Extra notes:

-Japanese people don’t kiss in traditional weddings (sometimes, they do in Western-style ones, like the ones we see in manga), neither do they in the reception.

-For Sasuke and Sakura’s wedding, I wrote the same vow as in this video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UeJQMvydpzQ All the credit goes to its maker.

-There’s a change in the honorifics, I know ^^ I did it on purpose, since reading examples of speeches, I realised that the language is very formal, so I decided to make them talk formally too. That is why there aren’t contractions in it either

#naruto #fanfic #ssm17 #ssm17d15 #sasusakumonth #uchiha sasuke #haruno sakura #sasusaku #otp

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