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alicemitch09writes · 3 years

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(un)loving miya atsumu

twelve.

you’re my sunflower.

You didn’t like zoos.

It’s not like you didn’t like animals, there were a whole lot of fascinating creatures that lurked and filled the earth. Coming in different shapes and sizes - some rule the land, some soar the skies, and some are masters of the ocean, they can even be as large as a mountain or as small as your fingernail. Truly, they are humble dwellers on the face of the earth. It’s just that humanity, since their evolution, has learned to dominate the land thanks to their superior intelligence.

Thus, animalia that once ruled the earth were now cut down while humanity increased.

Once they roamed free, now, they are caged and put on display for all of mankind to see. Isolated from the freedom forever.

Hence, why you didn’t like zoos.

Watching animals on display, not being able to run wild and free just didn’t sit right with you.

“Wah!!!! Look, look, look at it, (Y/N)!” Atsumu held on to the railing, leaning down to look at the nearing creature – it looked like a giraffe, but fluffier, lankier, almost floppy.

Sadly, it was mandatory – being a school event and all. It was your first school trip, since moving to Hyogo. It should be exciting if it weren’t for helpless animals put on display.

“It looks like a giraffe and a sheep had a baby,” Osamu said, nearly voicing out your thoughts.

Laughing into your muffler, you eyed the approaching creature warily. “It’s an alpaca.”

“Oh!!!!” Atsumu was shaking with excitement, hand reaching out to touch it.

Very speedily – almost a quick reflex, you pulled Atsumu back at the creature spat, its slimy spit landing just inches from Atsumu’s feet.

“HEY! WHAT THE HECK!”

“Careful, they spit.” You warn, letting him go cautiously. Osamu laughs behind you.

“Ha, not even they like you,”

“’SAMU, SHUT UP!”

A caretaker, who was guiding the gentle creature, looked at the boy in shock, appalled by his language and tone. You had to bow in apology for Atsumu, prompting him to quiet as the three of you continued to roam the outside area of the zoo.

Passing the kangaroo farm, just across it was the penguin walk, where you could hear your schoolmates cooing at the sight of waddling flightless birds.

A collective gasp once the birds appeared, followed by cooing of the girls, some of the boys were clapping their hands to get their attention. Sure, they were cute. But not even that could ease your unease.

“Are you okay, (Y/N)?” Osamu turns to you, seemingly having enough of flightless birds.

“Yeah,” Atsumu rounds you, honey-brown eyes watching. “you barely said a thing since we came here!”

Feeling bad about your lack of response, you could only bow your head in shame. Muttering an apology under your breath, nose digging into your muffler. Cold winds blew in, winter must be approaching.

“Are you hungry?” Osamu asks.

“Do you want to take a dump?” Atsumu asks next.

Shaking your head, head still hung low. They both glance at each other, then to you.

Fiddling with your gloved hands, you wondered if the twins would leave you then and there. Eyes staring down on the concrete ground, focusing on the material that came to view.

You shouldn't have come.

At first, there was a hand – two hands, holding your own. Then a tug.

Suddenly, you weren’t seeing animals on display, allowing yourself to be whisked away.

Veering northeast from where you were.

“Where are we-“

And then, there was a burst of color in different shapes and sizes.

Flowers.

Reading the sign, blinking, the twins brought you to the ‘Flower Garden’.

“Girls like flowers, right?” says Atsumu with a smile, Osamu smiling next to him.

Feeling a smile coming on, a gentle tugging at your heart, slowly you nodded.

“…zoos are just weird,” you say finally, walking down the path, the twins on each of your sides, matching your pace. It shouldn’t be hard, since you were inches taller than them.

“Weird how?” Osamu asks, nose wrinkling as he sniffs around.

Shrugging, you thought of your next words carefully. “Maybe I just don’t like the idea of animals in cages?”

“Well, that’s what zoos are for!” Atsumu says, almost helpfully.

“And that’s where the problem lies.” You point out, drinking in the many flowers, far as the eyes can see.

Walking along the pebbled path, several schoolmates were in the area, gushing and watching at the flowers in interest. There were even some adults, two teachers leaning towards each other, whispering and giggling. Atsumu wrinkled his nose at the sight, Osamu just walked on quietly.

Having rounded the Flower Garden, the three of you leave, your eyes looking around until your eyes fell on the bricked flowerbed by the exit. An array of flowers were on full display, but your eyes on a particular flower. Little pieces of the sun, sprouting brightly against the rest of the equally bright, blossoming, and elegantly arranged flowers. The little sun was peeking up, proud and tall.

Osamu was busy watching some butterfly while Atsumu turned to you, curiously following after your gaze.

Out of nowhere, a bark sounded off. From the corner of her eye - where you vaguely read a sign that said 'Dog Stage' a blur of white and a bright pink tongue came rushing your way.

Quickly, you hid behind the boys, holding on to Atsumu's shirt. Osamu turned to you in shock, then at the dog, a smile spreading across his face. "Hey, a dog!"

Laughing, the caretaker approached you three. "He's just excited to meet you lot!" Kneeling, he gently ruffles the dog's head. "Why don't you come say 'hi'?"

White in color with splotches of brown littering his face and body, the dog had an oddly-shaped head, almost shaped like an inverted egg, its triangular brown eyes were bright.

Furiously shaking your head, a yelp left your mouth when the dog broke away from Osamu, walking up to you. Despite its obvious friendliness, the dog was half your size. Seeing your fear, Atsumu puffs his chest, holding his guard against the sweet boy.

"Sorry mister," Looking down at the gentle creature, Atsumu then pats the dog. "doggy, but (Y/N)-chan here isn't up for it."

His reply was a bark, causing you to yelp again.

"Okay then, guess we'll have to go now." Pushing himself to stand, the caretaker whistles for the dog. "Come on, Bowser."

From behind Atsumu shoulder, still holding on to his shirt, you watched the dog happily wagging its tail as it walked behind its caretaker, leaving adoring glances from everyone on the path.

The two brothers exchanged glances.

"Well, looks like you don't want to meet our granny's dog, huh?"

When it was time to leave, everyone settled in the bus. With a total of four classes, two classes had to share a bus, meaning, to your luck, you and the twins sat together.

"Atsumu," you berate at the boy, rushing towards your seat. "where have you been?"

Osamu, who was sitting by the window, was forced out by Atsumu, who sat on top of him, wiggling until he moved in disgust.

"You'll see!" he grins ear to ear, excitedly clutching on to his backpack. Noting his dirtied nails, Osamu frowns and mutters something under his breath.

"Okay, everyone here?" Your teacher asked, his response was a chorus of 'yes'. Nodding, he turns to the driver, and the bus slowly careened off the road.

Once the bus was miles away, instantly, Atsumu perked up and turned to you. “(Y/N)-chan, I have something for you!”

Ducking down low, very carefully, he zipped open his bag, produced a paper bag, which was covered in dirt for some reason.

Bright yellow, as though the sun's rays solidified itself, came to view. The very sun shrank to the size of a child's hand, sprouting out from the same child's bag as though in greeting. Mouth parting, you stared at the flower before you.

“Ta-dah! I got you a sunflower!”

“’Tsumu," Osamu frowns, hating that he was in the middle. "that’s stealing, ya know.”

Swiping the underside of his nose, you saw dirt under his fingernails. “They’ll never know!” he says rather proudly. "And hey, (Y/N), did you know?" he scuttles closer, voice low. "When it rains, and the sun's gone, sunflowers face each other to harness each other's energy?" He puffs his chest out, all smug. "Pretty cool, huh?"

You took a moment to appreciate the tiny sun in his bag, that he got. For you. Registering Atsumu's words, it was kind of endearing, and he looked really proud of the information he shared.

However, "That's a misconception." You tell him, he guffaws, Osamu cackles between the both of you.

Fingering the smooth yellow petal, seeing the dirt cumulate in his bag, which will probably earn an earful from his mom, the fact that he did this for you was enough. Smiling, you tell him, “Thank you so much, Atsumu.”

(Atsumu swore, your smile rivaled the sunflower he got for you.)

Hiroshima was surprisingly calm.

Proclaimed early on as the 'City of Peace' postwar, the city was only fours hour away by bus, the prefecture was known majorly for being one of the first to suffer the nuclear attack from the first world war that devastated the island. And yet, it feels peaceful, calm.

Like all the years ago, those past sins, have all but wavered into the wind, forgiving the many generations to come.

A strange sense of calm washed over you, gazing at the structure before you, feeling for the victims - direct and indirect victims of the bombing. Even the very ground you stood on, was once covered in casualties unimaginable today, a traumatic experience impossible to dismiss. Truly, after the war comes peace. But that peace comes with sacrifice, bloodshed, and tears.

"(L/N)-san?" a voice calls, cutting you of your stupor. Turning, you met Kusakabe's kind face. "Are you okay? I've been calling your name for a while now."

Feeling your hand holding on to the itinerary plan, your other hand on the railing, hearing students murmur all around you brought you back - you were having a class excursion. In Hiroshima. For three days.

"Um," putting the booklet down, you gave a weak nod. "yes. Yes, I am. Sorry. I was just" you peek back at the monument. "awe, for lack of a better word."

He smiles, pushing his glasses back. "I understand what you mean. Coming to these monuments just makes you appreciate the history behind it."

You nod again, looking at the map - it would be a long walk, considering the park's grand area and the monuments you'll visit along the way.

"Anyway, I just came to inform you that we can roam around the park for an hour. Then we'll meet up by the parking area for lunch."

"I see. Thank you so much, Kusakabe."

He nods, smiling.

"Kusakabe!" from behind him, a group calls, waving.

Turning to you, Kusakabe asks. "And ow about you, (L/N)? Do you have a group?" the wind blows, you wrinkle your nose at the cold. "If you want, you can join us."

Before you could even reply, someone walks up to you - well, four someones that is.

"...That's why I told you, if we strike that bell hard enough, it could probably echo throughout the park!"

"Idiot, you want to ruin the sanctity of the bell? It's called 'Peace Park' for a reason!"

"Woah," Suna deadpans, eyes on his phone. "'sanctity', that's a big word, even for you, Osamu."

"Now, now, let's just enjoy the trip, yeah?" Ginjima, ever the peacemaker, tries to settle things, smiling apologetically when he meets your eyes.

Heaving a sigh, wearing a smile on, you gestured to the boys with an open hand. "As you can see, I have a group of my own."

Nodding at the trouble children, Kusakabe breathes a laugh. "I can see that. Well, I'll see you around, (L/N)."

Osamu asks, watching said boy meet up with his group. "Wasn't that the student council prez?"

"That is him."

The rest of the boys watch Kusakabe approach his group in joint interest, especially from the way they move - all good posture and all, neatly pressed uniform, not a hair out of place, all of them were pretty as a picture.

"Elites, huh?"

You rolled your eyes at Suna's words. "Just because Kusakabe and I belong in a college preparatory class does not mean we're elites."

"Well, your class does give off some sort of vibe," Ginjima explains helpfully.

That was a strange way of putting it, you thought. After all, you've been classmates with them all of three years, with the occasional new classmate last year. Other than that, it was just like any other class, filled with different personalities on different faces, except everyone in your class was outstanding students with equally outstanding grades.

Cold wind gushed, (h/c) strands of hair flying in your face.

"It's gotten cold, huh?"

"We're just a week off nationals and we're greeted by cold," Suna mutters.

"At least it's not hot anymore," Osamu grumbles, remembering the unforgiving summer that passed.

Busily working on your hair, your muffler ended up loosening to the sides in the process. Letting out a sigh, you undid your muffle, ready to fix it when large hands took the ends of your muffler.

"Not to mention the culture festival next month!" Atsumu gushes excitedly, making quick work on your muffler. Next month, being November. Time sure flies when you least expect it.

"Oi, 'Tsumu, step away from (Y/N)," says Osamu, walking towards you both. "you might end up choking her."

"Will not!" he yells, yet his hands carefully folding around your neck, tying in front. "I know how to fix a scarf, idiot!"

Wincing slightly at the volume of his voice, you suddenly found yourself unable to look away, frozen in your spot, watching Atsumu busy himself on fixing your muffler.

"On your own, maybe."

"U-Uh, guys...?" Ginjima fumbled, Suna just watching in veiled interest.

Doing some finishing touches, ever so gently looping and pulling the ends, Atsumu nods, clearly pleased, before he steps back to admire his finished work. "There, see!"

Osamu steps in, eyes on Atsumu's work, face neutral, eyes laughing. "Sloppy."

"HAH!?"

Glancing down at Atsumu's work, it was a bit sloppy, but it seemed to hold up just right.

"You should be ashamed, now (Y/N) will lose face."

"From a fucking scarf!?"

"You've ruined her, idiot."

"You're ruined!"

Exhaling, you just walk ahead letting them argue amongst themselves. Ginjima and Suna were quick to follow after you.

"Um, should we-"

"You've been with them for three years now, Ginjima. They'll be fine. They'll just follow after." Suna nods at your words, randomly taking photos of the area.

For the next few minutes, relative calm washed over your group walking along the path, watching ancient buildings. What's left of it, a skeletal piece with absent windows, floors, or life, covered in scars from years past. Each of the boys carefully regarding each monument in awed whispers.

Although, time to time, someone would comment about how creepy it was to be up close to it, then would be called disrespectful by someone. You'd only have to turn and then they'd be silenced. Every now and then, you'd write down about the monuments on a small notepad, so you could use it later for your essay after the trip.

Furiously writing, a vibration went off in your coat pocket. Putting your notepad away, you flipped your phone open to read the text.

"Who're you texting, (Y/N)?" Osamu asked beside you.

"Aran-san."

“Eh? What about Aran-kun?” Atsumu asked, suddenly appearing by your shoulder. Suna and Ginjima looked up, at the mention of the senior.

“Well, he tried out for Tachibana Red Falcons a few weeks ago." You tell them, seeing no harm in it. Hitting send, you waited until the confirmation popped up before pocketing your phone away. "He’s going to get a call of his results sometime this week.”

Nearly all of them raised their eyes in shock, amazed by the news. It was the same reaction you had when he told you.

"Hear that, 'Samu?" Atsumu laughs at his twin, pride and unbridled happiness. "Aran-kun!"

"I heard, idiot." Not even Osamu can hide his joy and pride, like that of his twins', over the news.

"It's nice that you've still kept contact with Ojiro-san and the others." Ginjima noted with a smile.

Suna, appearing beside you, gently guided you towards the next destination as your group converged with some tourists, some girls giggling at Suna. "It's so you to keep in contacts with the seniors,"

"Because I respect them?" Burying your nose into your muffler, at the chilly wind that blew past.

"Because you fit right in with them."

Reaching the Peace Bell, just at the heart of the park, you were told that you can ring a bell and make a wish.

"Normally people wish for world peace here," Ginjima says aloud, reading from the booklet.

"Maybe we should wish for Ojiro-san?"

"I believe we can do that."

So you rang the bell, a soft gong echoing out, clapped your hands twice, palms pressing together, then lowered your head. Offering a quick prayer. For Aran-san. For Kita-san. For Akagi-san. For Oomimi-san. For Reiki. For Mika.

Following after you were the Ginjima, then Suna, and then finally, the twins, which you had to stay and watch over, lest they try to really smash the bell so loud it'll echo throughout the park. Thankfully, they behaved under your watch.

Later, while having lunch at a nearby restaurant, your phone vibrated.

“Ah.”

“What is it?”

The four boys turned to you - Osamu sneakily taking a meatball from Atsumu's bowl, Suna was putting mushrooms and carrots into a small plate, Ginjima was blowing into his bowl.

“He got in.”

At first, there was silence. Then, you ever so calmly turned your phone in your hands, showing Aran's text, for further confirmation. And then, the trouble children burst out in joy - all hoots and cheers, happy for their senior, uncaring at the spectacle that they've caused. And Suna caught it all on camera.

(Aran cried when he received the video)

“Something’s different about you,” Atsumu says to you. You blinked twice, surprised.

“…I’m wearing my winter uniform?” You say, almost consciously, gesturing to the blazer you now donned on your uniform, contrasting the summer uniform, which was just a shirt, a sweater, a skirt, and shorter socks. School-issued brown blazer shirt, shirt, maroon tie, black skirt. Your socks were knee-length because of the seasonal change.

Even with the culture festival going about, students were encouraged to wear their uniforms - well, students of Inarizaki High School that is.

With October long past, students were all to wear their winter uniforms to anticipate the cold weather ahead.

In spite of the season dropping a few degrees though, the culture festival at your school rolls easily. The school was filled to the brim with life coming from its students, visitors from different schools, and supporting families.

Yet for some reason, amidst the fanfare going around, Atsumu keyed on you.

Something was shining, hitting Atsumu in the eye.

“Wait a minute,” Atsumu closed in, too close for comfort, tucking bangs and some strands of hair behind your ear. “You got a piercing!”

There was a stud by the inside of your right ear cartilage, just by the inner middle rim.

Suna whistles. “Wow, never thought you had it in you, (L/N).”

“Uwah, it looks cool, but does it hurt?”

“More importantly, when did you get it done?” Osamu asks with a frown.

Atsumu’s thumb was tracing along the shape of your ear, staring at your conch piercing in fascination, standing way too close. Gulping you took a step back, fixing your bangs as you explained. “I, uh, did this on a whim. And yes, it did hurt, because it was on my cartilage, but nothing I can't handle.”

The four look at you, eyes wide.

It kind of ruins the image of the perfect role model people has cooked you up to be. Then again, you were never perfect, to begin with, it was nice to ruin that image and shatter people's expectations.

“Woah.” Ginjima's eyes shined at the stud on your ear.

“Badass,” muttered Suna.

"When did you get so rebellious?" Osamu teased, as though reading your thoughts, pinching your nose with his knuckles.

Atsumu couldn't look away at the new addition in your body. "But when did you-"

"(L/N)-senpai!" a voice cheerily called you from behind, green from the torso up - green wig, green coat, ruffled white undershirt, black pants, with black shoes. Oh, and there was some sort of contraption strapped on their arm.

Atsumu stared in confusion as the person happily greeted you, holding your hands and full of smiles, he just about to burst when Osamu elbowed him.

"It's Yoshimichi," Suna explained, admiring the costume. "y'know, one of the kits."

"Or the managers-in-training," Ginjima added, enjoying the interaction between you and the younger girl.

"Yoshimichi!" you greeted, taking her in. "Wow, you look amazing!"

The younger girl flushed, her usual dark brown eyes were replaced with light blues - contacts, it seems, gripping your hands tighter. "Thank you so much! I worked hard on it! But senpai, your hair looks great!"

"Ah, thank you," you say with a faint blush. "Asano worked on it." More like, she worked on them while you busily sat on your booth, studying the papers from all the attendees who came to the volleyball club's gig. Asano took advantage of your preoccupation to work on your hair. You couldn't hate her for it, since the style proved to be helpful from keeping your hair from your face.

"It's times like these where (L/N) can really be a girl, huh," Ginjama said.

"You're making it sound like she's not." Suna deadpans.

Sputtering, Ginjima tries to defend herself. "Y-You know what I mean!"

Atsumu sort of does, having known you all his life. You weren't the girliest girl around, but you dressed like one, but it was average at best and formal, compared to Mika, who loved wearing frills, brightly colored dresses, and all. Plus, you didn't have many female friends because you had the twins. Most of the time, you were surrounded by boys, so you had to toughen up.

"But who're you supposed to be?" Osamu couldn't help but ask.

"Lyserg from Shaman King!" Yoshimichi says excitedly.

"Your class is doing a cosplay cafe, huh?"

"Right on! Senpai, you should visit!" remembering that you weren't alone, she looked at the four boys behind you. "Ah, you senpais can come, too!"

"I feel like she's extended the invitation to (L/N), though," Suna mutters, Ginjima laughs.

From the end of the hall, someone, with an equally elaborated costume, holding a sign, calls out to her.

"Ah, that's my cue! I have to go now!" Before she leaves, she turns to you. "Senpai, I'll be waiting!"

Smiling, you wave off as she runs towards her classmate, watching them stroll down the hall.

Once the younger girl left, you turned to the boys. "Yoshimichi's family owns a tattoo and piercing shop. I had it done there." Their reactions were instantaneous - multitudes of shock.

"Yeah, but when?" Atsumu asked. He can't even fathom the idea of Yoshimichi - bright, bubbly, cosplayer Yoshimichi Ryoko to come from a family of punks!

"Um," uncharacteristically on the spot, you rubbed at your elbow. "A day after we came back from Hiroshima."

"Who would've thought that our kit comes from a ragtag fam."

"That's a rather crude way of saying it,"

"Yeah, but the flip side of getting a tattoo is you can't go to onsens,"

Ginjima hisses, eyes suddenly sad and dim. "Ah, that is sad and true."

"On the contrary, there are onsens that allow tattoos, so long as it's not visible or in an innocuous location," you say helpfully, automatically bringing backlight in Ginjima's eyes.

"(Y/N) have mercy on us with your words," Osamu cries. "the lot of us are idiots here!"

You'd expect Atsumu to retort, absolutely refusing to be called an idiot, or likening to one. But he was quiet, right by your side, smiling.

"Heh, I'm thinking of getting a piercing myself!"

Three eyes turn to him, doubtfully.

"What?"

"Everyone knows you're likely to cry getting one."

"HAH!?" And there he was. His aura was emanating warm and gentle, like his usual vibe from before. What's weird was, you were there, yet he was smile was genuine, probably brighter than everyone in school.

"(L/N)-san, are you alright?"

"Yes, why do you ask?"

"Um," Asano's eyes went from your face to the mechanical pencil in your hand. "y-your pencil lead…it’s run out." You stopped writing, or what you thought you've been doing. "For a minute now." Oh.

Pushing your pencil, seeing the lead pop out, you write again.

"Thank you, Asano."

"You're welcome," she smiles, but her lip turns up, eyes filled with worry. "But are you okay?"

"I've just got a lot on my mind."

Asano's face fell, eyes not leaving your face, noting the heavy intake of breath, followed by the sag of your shoulders. Even your eyes seemed lost, sad.

The feared and great 'Inarizaki's Fox Keeper' was known for her uptightness, her stoic and cold aura - intimidating by name, more so in person. Highly respected and feared, even the coaches held her to a high regard. With a reputation like hers, it was no wonder she was able to manage the team on her own for years, even aiding them to nationals, and holding her ground against Miya Atsumu. (L/N) (Y/N) was the perfect manager, a standard for all club managers. A reputation that definitely lived up to her expectations.

However, Asano Miki, found that you were actually just a really reliable person, extremely kind, and a saint-like patience. Under your guidance, she eventually got out of her shell - she and Yoshimichi, and easily adjusted to the club thanks to your guidance. And behind closed doors, especially during those nights at training camps, you were practical, uptight like a mother, and almost always preoccupied.

And yet, underneath it all, there was always this sort of sadness in you.

She couldn't help but think of the iceberg theory, that's there's always more to a person.

With her and Yoshimichi, you could open up more about yourself. With the rest of her seniors, you could, too. But Asano could feel like it was to a certain degree, there was something you'd like to keep within. The more she thinks about it, the more it scares her of what's underneath it all, of how long before the truth just freezes her over.

A flash of yellow appears from the corner of her eye, when she turns, it was the captain - Miya Atsumu.

Just a year ago, you and him were not on good terms, having been childhood friends for a long time. The team's dynamic changed drastically, but you remained as manager, only colder and more robotic, as the rumors say. It was said you supposedly resigned, only to wordless come back. Magically, the team's dynamic changed for the better. Even your dynamic with the now, blond-dyed, setter-captain.

"Oiiii, As-a-no~" Yoshimichi calls in a sing-song, her fellow manager-in-training nudges her shoulder. The girl turns to her. "C'mon, I'll pass the bibs to the opposite team, you fetch the cart from the storage room. Okay?"

"O-Okay!" she starts for the storage room. However, unable to help herself, she looks over her shoulder, to where you were, with the captain standing close, the two of you seem to be discussing something. You were doing the talking, pointing with your mechanical pencil, talking a mile. And then there was the captain, eyes soft and warm...watching you.

Atsumu - known for his smug smirk, likened to that of a fox, filled with general mischief and mayhem, wore a true smile. A smile that softened his features, that made him (and his twin, because they were identical) admired by many, a smile that brightened him more, one that reached his eyes - one that Asano knew was reserved for you and you alone.

Of all the things Asano knows about you, one thing is for sure: Miya Atsumu was the cause for the sadness in your eyes.

“You know, I worry about you,” Osamu says to you, echoing questions that have been thrown to you for days - mostly indirectly, at your usual convenience store over a shared sashimi set.

Something's bothering you, has been bothering you, from the looks of it. Osamu knows it.

From the dim moonlight that hung up in the sky, contrasting against all unnatural light, you blinked at him. When your eyes met, his grey-brown eyes took you out of your stupor, making you feel bare and open, without even saying anything.

“I’ve been worrying about you." Osamu adds, voice thick. "For a long time, you felt this need to put others before yourselves. Don’t get me wrong, it’s admirable and honorable at best. It's what many of us love about you, (Y/N). But," his shoulders sag, gray-brown eyes softening "if you keep putting them over you, one day, you’ll forget yourself altogether and just crush from the weight of keeping everyone first.”

You feel the need to defend yourself, to make a statement rebutting all his claims. Yet, your tongue feels heavy, mouth clamped shut. Looking up at him reluctantly, you were met by his unwavering kindness - so, so kind, and worry. Worry growing, seeing as your eyes turned glossy, neutral expression cracking.

Osamu reached an arm, pulling you over. You wanted to pull away, but his warmth washed over you.

Quietly, eventually, you leaned against Osamu, crying softly.

Strong as they were last year, it wasn't enough to satiate the hunger of your foxes, led by Atsumu, that brought them to victory. Still, Karasuno's presence was felt, establishing themselves in the national scene now that they've made a resurgence in the past year with an invaluable set of players. One of them, being your dear childhood friend.

"Sho-chan!" you called out after the match ended, seeing as you had time.

The redhead turned, eyes widening and brightening at the sight of you. "(Nickname)!"

Running to him excitedly, he did the same and the two of you met by the sides.

"Oh wow, your hair's getting shaggy!" you laugh, ruffling at his hair. "By the way, great game, today. You guys are as tenacious as always."

Noticeably, some people were looking your way - still surprised that by some twist of faith, you and the spry middle blocker were acquainted, let alone childhood friends! Too busy being in your friend's presence, you hadn't realized the attention you were receiving. Too busy catching up to the ball of sunshine before you, going on and on about the feats they did today, freely smiling about with your childhood friend.

"Inarizaki is crazy strong this year! Especially with Miya-san's serves!"

"Which Miya?" you laughed with a cock of your head.

"Oh, uh...the blonde dyed one??"

"Ah, Atsumu."

"Are you close?" Hinata asked, sensing the familiarity when you said the setter's name.

"Um," tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you were unsure how to answer. "kind of." That seemed like a good answer. "He and his twin brother live next door and were my first few friends when I moved to Hyogo." Behind him, his captain was calling for him. "Neh, let's continue our chat later, okay?"

"A-Ah," he sputtered, short-circuiting.

"You're here until tomorrow, right? Better make it worth your while. After all, we haven't talked much in a while. Well," you take his hand in yours, squeezing. "face-to-face, that is."

At the prospect of seeing more games, and maybe spending more time with you, he brightened. "Sure thing, (Nickname)!"

Unable to help yourself, you ruffled his hair playfully. "Then, wait for my text later, okay?"

Later that day, dinner, a bath, a short meeting later, you were slipping on an oversized hoodie over your pajamas, and took off. Despite it being a rather exciting day, you still had enough energy to go about, carefully making your way to meet your childhood friend.

Meeting Hinata just a block away from your hotel, the two of you walked a few more blocks until you reached a neighborhood playground, chatting aimlessly as you sat by the railings framing the park.

"Since it's your last year of high school, do you have any plans, (Nickname)?"

"To be honest? Not really." Wrinkling your nose at your answer, you tried again. "Maybe nothing special. How about you, Sho-chan?" you ask, despite him being a second year.

To your surprise, he readily answered. "I wanna do beach volleyball!"

"Beach volleyball? Why?"

Something sets off in his eyes, almost like excitement, assurance, burning compassion. "I want to try and learn a lot of things!" It even showed off from his voice, no longer quivering, strong and firm, with a hint of childish excitement. "I want to try and get better to be able to play more volleyball!"

That was a rather interesting take into his career, choosing to play outside court. Plus, you've heard beach volleyball can be demanding with just two players.

"You're really set on it, huh?"

"Yes!"

You felt warm.

"Well, good luck with that, Sho-chan. I'll be rootin' for ya~"

Extremely, pleasantly warm, despite the January cold.

“(Nickname), you’re really a lot different, huh?” Before you could ask what he means, he furthers. “I mean, from all our texting, you seem…kinda…on hold? Like you’re holding back? But in person, you seem more relaxed now.”

You blink, remembering bright lights, head against another warm body, a shared sashimi set.

“Maybe it’s because I’m with my Sho-chan.” you smile, forcing the thoughts away. “A lot’s happened in my life. I’m not ready to unpack them all to you, but Sho-chan, you just really have a way with making people feel relaxed about themselves, of making them feel like it's okay, y'know?”

He flushes at that.

“I’m really jealous of that part of you.”

“W-Well, I’m jealous of how smart you are, (Nickname)!”

The two of you laugh into the night before you randomly blurted out wanting something sweet to eat.

"Want ice cream?" Hinata asks, gesturing to stand.

Peering out at him in the dark, the park was a bit dim, your childhood friend shined bright. "Nah, maybe I should head back."

"But you said you wanted something sweet!"

Chuckling, breath coming out in puffs, you stand. "Alright, but you're buying, okay?"

"Aren't you older?"

Playfully frowning at the younger teen’s argument - because yes, you are the older one by a year, you just link your arm around his. "Yeah, but you lost to us!" you threw back.

"How mean, (Nickname)!"

On the way, you realized how eating something cold during a cold season wasn't feasible, which made the younger boy panic. Laughingly, you assured him that it was probably because it was so cold that you wanted something sweet, for a boost of insulin or that happy feelings rush.

At the nearest convenience store the two of you could find, which was a few blocks away from your hotel, the two of you make idle chat over ice cream despite the January weather, explaining further on sweetness, boost of insulin or that happy feelings rush.

"O-Oh! I see!"

Seeing the look on his face, you guessed that the mini-biology plus chemistry lecture made his head spin. "Do you really, Sho-chan?" you tease, handing him a plastic spoon. "It's okay to say you don't."

That caused his nose to scrunch up, brows furrowing together. "I understand, (Nickname)! Sheesh, I passed biology!"

Laughing again, both of you opened up the small pack of ice cream to share. It was in salted caramel.

One bite full and comically, both of you felt warm inside, moaning in absolute delight at the sweetness and saltiness.

The conversation started anew from there with topics that flew from fun plays, his sister, Natsu, taking an interest in volleyball, your sister and her boyfriend, Kaoru and his soccer, talks of the new Karasuno captain.

"Hey, Sho-chan," you asked, watching him chew. "if we didn't move..." if her dad wasn't an asshole "...do you think...?" you mulled, thinking of all the people you've met since moving. Weakly, you leaned against the younger boy, much to his surprise.

"(Nickname)-"

"...do you think things would be different?"

Hinata falls silent at that.

Who knows what your life would have turned out had your family stayed in Miyagi, or your uncle didn't forcibly bring your mom out of her depression and move the family all the way to Hyogo? Would you be happier? Would you have turned out better? Who would you even be?

"Does it matter? What's happened, happened. And whether we like it or not, it's for the best!"

Ah, such a simple-minded sweet boy. "That's true."

"But," you push yourself off, watching him. "had (Nickname) remained, maybe I would've had a boost up with my skills! I would be at maximum level now!"

Snorting, you broke out laughing. "Maximum level!?"

It was a shared moment of nostalgia between two childhood friends over a tub of ice cream, all smiles and laughter.

...which is how Miya Atsumu found you.

"Miya-san!" came Hinata's energetic cry, you look up in shock.

"Shoyou-kun..." the setter says quietly.

Was he looking for someone, you thought, spooning a chunk into your mouth. Or maybe he was out for a late night snack?

Chewing, you didn't notice your captain walking towards you. "(Y/N), if you wanted a late night snack, you shoulda counted me in!" Huh?

Before you could react, he took your spoon and fed himself the last chunk, moaning dramatically at the burst of flavors in his mouth.

"Mi-Miya-san!" shrieked the younger boy, cheeks flushing for some reason.

"You could have gotten your own spoon, you know," you frown, grabbing the spoon from him, he whines. "Besides, you shouldn't be eating sugar before your bedtime."

"Speak for yourself, (Y/N)."

Thinning your lips, you put away the spoon. Your captain turns to the redheaded boy. "Anyway, it's getting late and we should all get back." Turning to your childhood friend, the setter asks. "Shouyo-kun, you're here until tomorrow, right?"

Recovering from whatever it was earlier, the younger boy nods. "Ah, y-yes, n-no!"

"Which is it?" you ask worriedly.

"That's cool!" without warning, he stands next to you "Be sure to watch our game, 'aight?"

"Of course!"

"We should probably head back now," you announce as you stood up, taking your trash with you. "You need a full rest of sleep. Both of you." At the last part, both athletes felt chills run down their spine.

When all three of you were at the door, Hinata assuring you that he can walk back to his hotel just fine, you suddenly remembered something and called out to your friend. "Sho-chan!” the younger boy turns to you. “Actually,” seeing you uncharacteristically sheepish, he keeps his eyes on you, waiting. “I'm on the fence with what I really want."

Offering you a smile, you feel warm all over. "That's okay, (Nickname)! You still have time!"

"We're months away from graduation," you reply, a small smirk at his crestfallen face. "but I think I'm settled."

Instantly, he recovers. "That's good to hear! Well then, good night, (Nickname), Miya-san!"

“What? What? What?” Atsumu turned to you curiously, picking up on the conversation with Hinata. “What were you two talking about?”

Burying your hands into your pocket, you debated. Osamu, Hinata, and Mika were the only people you’ve shared with, the ones you could trust with. The career form fresh in your mind.

“C’mon, (Y/N)!” he whines. “You can tell me!”

And for some reason, you opened your mouth and told him. “We were talking about future careers after high school,”

“Ah, really?” Before your third year even started, you were already thinking and dreading life after high school. “It’s strange that you don’t have a plan after high school.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean," he shrugs easily, carefully steering you to his side, his other side to the open street. "you’re so well organized and value order above anything else. Not to mention, you’re one of the smartest people in our year-“

“Just because I’m part of the top students doesn’t mean I’m guaranteed success,” you tell him, bluntly. Despite the cold, Atsumu feels even more chillier at your pointed words.

But he chips at the ice.

“Still! It makes a world of a difference because it’s you!”

You stopped at that, his words sinking in.

“It’s…me.”

“Yeah!" He continues to chip at the ice, mouth opening, as though reminding you of the most obvious thing on earth. "Plus, I’m pretty sure you’ll be fine wherever or whatever you end up choosing. I’ll be rooting for ya!”

Despite yourself, you smiled, warmed by his words. “Thanks…I kind of needed that.”

Atsumu glanced at you, the two of you carefully taking a turn. “So, what did you write in your career forms?”

“Um…nutritionist, psychologist, or probably something related to sports.”

“Wow,” he thinks back to your background, awed at how much your past impacted your future. “That’s amazing, (Y/N)!”

"Nowhere as amazing as you," you tell him, with utmost sincerity and honesty. He was, after all, a nationally recognized athlete for a high schooler. With his impressive reputation, he'll definitely go far and have the best teams at his disposal.

He barked a laugh, happily. "But of course! Sucks that 'Samu won't be with me, but I'll work for the both of us. No," he thrusts three fingers in the air as he declares "the three of us!"

For some reason, that was a moment of calm for you, filling you with the assurance you'll need. No matter how many years passed, even with his hair dyed lighter than his natural dark roots, he was still that same self-assured, cocky boy you know. You get the feeling he'll always stay like this, which you find you don't mind either way.

Much like Hinata, this boy right here, made you feel inexplicably warm. "That's surprisingly mature of you, Atsumu."

His name came out surprisingly easy. And to Atsumu, who stares at you as though he discovered a snowflake's design at a microscopic level, it was the sweetest thing he's ever heard.

Snow gently falls down, your breaths coming out in puffs, Atsumu's unable to look away.

"We should really head back to the hotel now."

"Y-Yeah!" Atsumu takes hold of your hand, much to your surprise, tugging you forward.

Inarizaki, unfortunately, made it to the top 3 after losing to Kamomedai – who, under the captaincy of Hirugami, were relentless as always – you and your team found yourself with heavy, weary hearts. There were regrets here and there, but the fact that the team maintained its spot as the top 5 made the pain of losing less. Also, you kept your promise to Aran and the rest, who were over the moon (and probably in tears) from watching in the benches.

Speaking of Aran and the rest, you had met up with the rest of your former seniors. Ever the emotional man that he was, Aran was tearing up at how proud he was of how well the team played, and how much the trio – the twins plus you, held the team up.

Being captain in his final year, with his brother as vice-captain, and you as manager, was definitely a highlight in Atsumu's high school career. Smiling at the camera, arms hooked around you and Osamu, Atsumu will forever cherish this amazing high all his life.

Now that you think about it, when did you first start liking Atsumu? What was the instance that made you fall in love with your best friend?

It's been almost ten years - 9 years, to be exact once the cherry blossoms bloom. It's been that long since you met the twins, met Atsumu, and loved him.

But for however long you loved him, a most precious feeling for your young heart, never had you expected it to be inferior in the eyes of many. You may never have said it out loud, but when Atsumu read your love letters out loud in front of the whole team - seeing the looks in their eyes, you felt so cheap. Maybe your feelings were cheap, a joke. Even after the incident, even after a new year and the new faces, that scar was still there - the unavoidable scar that lingered on the fearless, 'Inarizaki's Fox Keeper'.

If people knew the actual reason for the dispute between you and Atsumu, would people think of you differently? It never bothered you, but the knowledge of your feelings for someone as perfect, unattainable, unreachable, and out of your league?

It only made sense.

In a sense, it was like an old toy - one you loved so much as a kid, but once you've played with it too much, it gets worn out, broken, and useless, you'd have to throw it away.

The whole time you held on, foolishly you were also holding on to the possibility that maybe one day Atsumu would come to return your feelings. In a cliche way, he'd think of you as more than a friend, see you as something more, then come around to love you. Again, you were foolish.

It was wishful thinking.

Atsumu's eyes and heart were set on your perfect big sister, Mika.

And who wouldn't? She was perfect, beautiful, smart, kind - everything you're not.

You? You were boring, plain, an afterthought.

Annoyed at the person staring back at you, you childishly flicked water at it - as if it would magically dispel the ugly. Nope.

All you found was a splotchy view of you, strings of water running over.

For all your feats - or whatever people thought of you, you had one terrible weakness: you gave your heart way too easily.

Your asshole of a father was one.

He was your father, of course it was only natural to love him. Until he broke it in a million pieces.

Miya Atsumu was second.

You gave your heart to him since he took you by the hand, never getting the courage to take it back. Atsumu can do whatever he wanted with your heart, just so long as it's still with him at the end of the day.

You had to wonder though, much of your heart was left in his hands?

The human body was composed of atoms – millions and billions of them in the form of hydrogen, carbon, nitrogen, and oxygen. It also contains much smaller amounts of the other elements that are essential for life.

The human body is also composed of love. Now, compared to atoms, its amount was infinite, endless.

Atoms burn out and die each day, easily replicated the next second, but not love. Love was something that you give but never runs out.

How much was a single person capable of loving?

How much of their fill until eventually, it runs out?

You might never know.

Scientifically speaking, love was just…unexplainable.

Law of attraction or serotonin can do very little in explaining the amount and power of love.

It was infinite in quality and quantity, yet it's also finite in a way.

"Nee-san?"

Lately, you've noticed that Kaoru tends to call you 'nee-chan' behind your back. You heard it once when you were sick. Normally, he just calls you 'nee-san', Mika was 'nee-chan'. It was just an honorific, with subtle tones when using.

"What."

His brows furrow, arms folded against his chest. "Why are you lying on the floor?"

"Because of gravity," you reply, staring into nothing, maybe at the ceiling, maybe at cracks, maybe at the ceiling fan, maybe at the spaces in between composed of billions and billions of atoms. Inhaling through your nose, exhaling the same way. Some days, it was just getting harder to think...to be, to seem.

Kaoru frowns harder, always hated how cryptic your replies tend to be, whenever he was genuinely worried for you. Then his expression wipes clean into worry.

"Nee-san," you could hear the franticness in his voice. "are you crying?"

Alarmed, you didn't move to hide your eyes, lest you worry him or make it worse. Instead, you sigh and close your eyes. "No. It's just dust."

You didn't see the slight panic in Kaoru's eyes, his big (e/c) eyes on you - his big sister.

“…nee-chan?”

You hummed, not daring to open your mouth at the sudden wave of emotion.

Kaoru was silent, for a while, and then. “I love you.”

Smiling at your brother, opening (e/c) eyes met lighter (e/c) ones, saying it back. “I love you, too.”

masterlist • thirteen

#(un)loving miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu #miya atsumu fic #miya atsumu angst #haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! fic #haikyuu!! angst #haikyuu!! angst fic #hq #hq x reader #hq fanfic #hq angst #hq angst fic #inarizaki #countdown to the end begins

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shepherds-of-haven · 3 years

Note

If characters had a Game of Thrones style house banner and motto, what would they be?

Ooh, this is an interesting one!

House Bronwyn: "The Darkness Answers" or "Weapons in the Silent Night" - a silver wolf on a field of black, with a white blade piercing the background. Their house is known for operating as a kind of shadow military that influences and directs things from the shadows, and although the wolf has connotations of solitude and aloofness, they are actually extremely loyal "pack-animals" who form a tight-knit clan and unwaveringly answer the call of duty... no matter how bloody their hands may get from answering.

House Alder: "First in the Charge" or "Our Fury Shakes Them" - a gold lion roaring rampant on a field of red (so, yeah, Gryffindor I guess!). This one is fairly self-explanatory--the Alder house is known by others to produce some of the fiercest and most courageous warriors, though they also have a reputation for being brash and hot-headed. Alder soldiers are always sent in to "hold the line" and are infamous for never abandoning the field or retreating, even when it leads to certain death. "Our Fury Shakes Them" also refers to their propensity to use cannon-fire and gun blasts to destroy their enemies.

House Ironwood: "Our Roots Run Deep" or "The First, The Last, The Eternal" - a golden oak tree on a forest-green banner with a trim of autumn red. Their house is among the oldest and was once known as one of the most powerful military forces on the Continent, with a cadre of skilled Elven knights being produced by that house, but as time went on and the world changed, the house fell into semi-obscurity or became more known for its archival work and love of history, causing some to look down on it as a house of scholars. Whenever they try to invoke the promises and alliances of old, others roll their eyes at House Ironwood's unwillingness to change and adapt to the world around it. As a result, House Ironwood tends to isolate itself from other houses, swearing only to trust their own kind. Their current scion gets them into a lot of trouble for challenging an heir of a Norm house to a duel for slandering the name of House Ironwood, and then killing him in the ensuing standoff. This has led to military reprisals against House Ironwood, and they find themselves in a precarious position of being surrounded by enemies and having isolated former friends.

House Acquell: "Faith is a Shield and Love the Cure" or "Many Hearts Beating as One" - a Celtic-looking knot or a chain of hands interlocking around a heart. This house is looked down upon by more militaristic houses for being a generally trusting, pacifistic house. Its holdings are small and its lineage is quite new, but the house is beloved by its own people due to its scions working as healers, clerics, and devotees of charity, often seen among the streets of their city and passing out food and coin. House Acquell is an extremely religious house, and many of its heirs and heiresses join the Church to become priests and priestesses. The founder of the house was first canonized as a saint.

House Syndran: "Out of Cruelty, Justice" or "The Cunning Conquer" - a black crow or raven spreading its wings on a field of royal purple. This house was built on mercantile roots, but its influence now stretches far and wide, reaching into all matters of business, politics, intrigue, and even war. Its scions are famed for their ruthlessness and willingness to go completely scorched-earth on their enemies, and for their ability to lie and manipulate even nominal allies with completely straight faces. The house leader always bears a gold-capped walking cane. Although its military power is weak, it makes up for it with the host of allies under its economic control. You can always make out the Syndrans at a party by the cadre of serious-faced, dark-haired heirs staring at the proceedings like they're a play under watchful critique. Although not known for being friendly, House Syndran also prides itself on impeccable etiquette and manners.

House Trinaeste: "If I Am Not Free, Then I Am Dead" or "Many Skills, Many Virtues" - a black cat on a field of gold, with two crossed daggers in the background and a key lying at its feet. The "Many Skills, Many Virtues" motto is something of an in-joke, because this house is known for its willingness to train its heirs in even unsavory skills--such as thievery and seduction--in order to ensure their survival. Many heirs are sent to special training at a secret academy on an island south of Conte--though what they are taught there, no one but the Trinaestes knows for sure. As such, this house is shunned by many for its unorthodox values and behavior, and not much is known about the inner workings of the house itself. The heirs and heiresses all seem like empty-headed fops who love to chase skirts (or whatever article of clothing they so desire), so no one ever takes them seriously... but that's their mistake, because House Trinaeste actually has the greatest network of spymasters and intelligence operatives this world has ever seen. They apparently have a lot of bastard children or sometimes even unrelated orphans whom they happily accept into their house anyway, which is another reason why the other houses shun them. They also supposedly have some ties to seafarers and pirates as well as a fleet of ships at their disposal.

House Antiqua: "The Road Not Taken" or "The World to Roam" - a golden globe on a field of deep scarlet/maroon/magenta, though from certain angles, the globe can also like the sun or moon (or all three). House Antiqua is composed of just straight up scholars. Sometimes a second son or a third daughter goes into military service or serves in a great battle and makes a distinction of themselves, but it's never on the level of an Alder, Bronwyn, Aescar, or Stormbreaker. By and large, they're known as a house of oddly-attractive, well-born nerds, more fodder for marriages and families rather than candidates that could bring about great change. They don't really get much of a say in anything among the greater houses, but that suits them just fine. They're like the classic Jane Austen-style families where they just hang out and read books and entertain visitors sometimes LMAO. They are neither very rich nor destitute; neither isolated nor up in everyone's business. They are on friendly terms with most houses, but no one takes them all that seriously when it comes to important matters like war or politics. They are known to serve as advisors and consultants in times of need, however. Many of their heirs leave the house and travel across the world using secret identities when they reach a certain age; it's something of a cliché among their inner circle. They eventually develop strong ties to House Syndran after one son casually beats the Syndran heir in chess during a party.

House Aescar: "The Wind is With Us" or "It Is Us Who Fly" - a tan flying eagle with a serpent-like staff clutched in its talons, soaring on a field of light blue. House Aescar is known for its terrifying use of theatrics in order to instill fear into the hearts of their enemies on the battlefield. They utilize war paint, war chants and screams, and unsettling war horns in order to rev up their soldiers before battle. Like House Alder, they have a reputation for not having a head for politics; they'd prefer you to just point them at the enemy and let them do their thing, and they have little patience for the trappings of politics and diplomacy. If the Continent were divided up into wards where certain houses were in charge of defending the borders from invasion, House Aescar would be the guardians of the West; House Prince, House Ironwood, and House Bronwyn would the guardians of the North; House Stormbreaker, House Trinaeste, and House Syndran would be the guardians of the South; and House Alder, House Antiqua, and House Naveen would be the guardians of the East. The fact that House Aescar is tasked with guarding the West alone is a point of pride for its heirs and scions. The youth of the house tends to be charged with going on a pilgrimage throughout their lands to observe how the common folk live. They are expected to return with worthwhile thoughts or findings about how to improve the house or its holdings, and if their opinions are interesting and well-thought-out, they are allowed a voice in the house's governing council.

House Prince: "Keepers of the North" or "Righteous in Wrath" or "Darkness Flees Our Light" - a white spear with a white shield behind it, radiating rays of light on a field of black. Not much is known about House Prince, except that its current heirs are a set of twin boys. Its military force is known for being utterly loyal, almost to the point of fanaticism, and the house has close ties to House Bronwyn due to their proximity to each other. House Prince is known among the other houses for being insistent on keeping its bloodlines pure and marrying its heirs to the Hunter scions of other close-knit families or even distant cousins, leading some to joke surreptitiously that the house is "incestuous." At one point in time, the older twin heir of the current generation disappeared for a year or two, forcing his brother to assume the guise of both twins to prevent the house from looking weaker to its outside enemies. Certain heirs of the Prince House are said to be cursed with a mysterious affliction that causes them to fall into fits of madness and rage, especially at the sight of blood, and for these reasons, many of them live in reclusive isolation in their castle, rarely seen by the outside world.

House Stormbreaker: "Thunder and Lightning" or "The Storm Stands Vigilant" or "From the Stars We Came, To the Stars We Rise" - a golden, starry ship sailing on a teal sea as lightning splits the banner in half and a dragon swims underneath the ship. House Stormbreaker is among the most sought-after houses for its explosive military prowess and strength, affording it a lot of political and negotiating power. Its heirs and scions are known to be gifted with extraordinary strength and a strange knack for avoiding almost certain death, serving with distinction as battlemasters, generals, and occasionally as knights and champions. A legendary sword is said to be passed from leader to leader, with no one but those of pure Stormbreaker blood being able to even pick the sword up. They are also known as a clan of sailors and are able to deploy their own naval fleet to defend the coastline as needed. Although they have a ferocious, proud, and hot-tempered reputation, heirs of the Stormbreaker house are sometimes not taken seriously in matters of court due to their strange pink hair. Despite this, scions of House Stormbreaker are among the most sought-after candidates for marriage, as people desire their mysterious superstrength and magic to be incorporated into their own houses. However, for reasons unknown, the House Stormbreaker is extremely strict with such marriages, and arrangements are often made three or more generations ahead of time in a careful curation of the bloodline.

House Naveen: "Gold in Peace, Steel in War" or "Not Without Thorns" - a scarlet rose on a field of lavender with two crossed rapiers in the background. House Naveen is the most powerful and influential of all of the Houses when it comes to sheer political power, rivalled only by House Syndran. Its military strength is only better than average, but its holdings, wealth, and political connections are vast and storied. Its current heiress is infamous for refusing suitors and continually denying her father's attempts to secure a marriage, focusing instead on joining chivalric orders and continually maneuvering situations in House Naveen's favor. House Naveen holds the honor of being among the last houses to continue ancient traditions such as jousting and knightly tournaments, but it's their celebrations and social occasions that the house is truly known for. The Naveens are said to employ a spy in the servants of every house aside from House Bronwyn, Prince, and Ironwood. What they do with that information, however, no one knows. On the surface, the Naveen house seems to be largely magnanimous and benign... Interestingly, they have offered an extension of aid to House Ironwood to get out of its dueling problem, but so far, House Ironwood has not given a reply.

House Naveen has also been largely matriarchal in the past, something that still informs its power structure to this day. This makes it a target of scorn by other powerful and male-led noble houses (such as House Eddon, Auberon's house), but it's something that the Naveens flaunt proudly with the rose as their insignia!

#Shepherds of Haven #sorry I don't know game of thrones LGJRGJR I don't know why I felt the need to give backstory but I guess I always do #motto #heraldry #house motto #banner #banners #mottos #all characters #game of thrones #game of thrones AU #?#AU #i never watched it and didn't like the first book when I was like 14 so don't @ me with details i don't know anything!!#tw: incest mention

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shinsoussimp · 4 years

Text

a/n: i’ve had this idea in my mind for days now so i finally decided to write it. i’m really happy with how this turned out, it might be one of my favorite things i’ve ever written :D

TW: su!c!de attempt, please do not read if this may trigger you

I’ll never leave you

it was all too much. you couldn’t take it anymore.

like a fountain filling up with water. more and more water being added every second. but at some point it’ll overflow.

-----

the view from the top of the tall building filled with random offices was beautiful, you’d have to admit. a wave of calm rushed over you as you looked down, seeing how far away the ground was. maybe this was extreme. a permanent answer to a temporary problem. or even selfish. but you couldn’t handle the pain anymore. you sat on the edge swinging you feet over and letting you chin rest in your hand. in your head this was your best option. you had nothing waiting for you, no one waiting for you.

except for kuugo.

your mind drifted to the happy times you’d spent with him. but he’d be better off without you. everyone would be. you just burdened him with all of your problems. he has his own agency, he’s a busy man. yet he has to deal with you. this would benefit him, you thought. he would have more time to spend on his work, and you don’t have to be in pain anymore, it’s a win win. right?

you still wanted to hear his voice one last time though. you pulled your phone out of your pocket and brought up his contact. tears pricked your eyes as your finger hovered over the call button. you wanted to say ‘i love you’ one last time to him, then you could do it. you didn’t want to worry him thought so you thought it would be best to make the call quick. you wiped a couple stray tears as you brought your phone up to your ear.

-----

kuugo felt a faint vibration against his leg, prompting him to pull his phone out of his pocket to check what was the matter. he saw your name across the screen and he smiled softly to himself. he knew everything you’d gone through and he cared about you so much, so he vowed to himself that he would never miss a call from you if he could help it. that’s why even now, in the middle of a meeting between a few hero agencies, he mumbles a low ‘excuse me’ before walking over to an empty corner to take the call.

“hey, kid.” he says into the phone shoving his free hand into his pocket.

“kuugo..” you tried to hide the emotion in your voice but it was still weak, cracking a bit as you spoke.

“what’s wrong? is everything okay?” he says with concern apparent in his voice, catching the attention of a few pro heros sitting at the table.

“i love you so much. i hope you know that.” even with tears streaming down your face and gasps for air that gave away how hard you were crying, you couldn’t help but smile as those words left your lips. but kuugo was not smiling. quite the opposite. a chill runs up his spine and his hand, once in his pocket, pulls at his tie as he tries to keep calm.

“hey, hey. little one, talk to me. what’s going on?”

“you’ve done so much for me, i’m sorry for wasting so much of your time but i want you to know that i’ve cherished every moment we’ve spent together.” you felt as if the world was collapsing in on you and you were going to escape. but your last words needed to be with him.

“you’re scaring me. where are you?” he knew about these darker thoughts you had so as you spoke with him, he put the pieces together, and that only made him more frantic, his voice even shaking a bit, “kid you need to tell me where you are.” he was speaking much louder as he paced back and forth in the room, not even acknowledging the fact that the meeting had stopped and everyone had turned to watch him.

“it’s okay. it’ll be okay. i love you with all my heart kuugo.” you closed your eyes and hang up the phone, ignoring his protests coming from the other side of the line. you set your phone back down next to you as you looked back down at the ground. finally you would have peace.

-----

kuugo’s frozen with the phone still held up to his face, in shock and not knowing what to do. best jeanist and hawks stand up and call his name a few time, trying to get him to snap out of it.

“y-y/n..” he mumbled. he couldn’t stop the anger that was bubbling inside of him. why wasn’t he with you? how are you going to do it? how can he stop you? his phone fell out of his hand and he turned around to punch a large hole into the wall before he started pacing again.

“what about him? is he okay?” endeavor asks as he too stood up from his chair, leading most of the other heros to do the same.

“i-i need to find him.” he stammers as his pacing pickes up speed. he can’t lose you. he can’t handle that.

“don’t you have each other’s phone locations? i know i have to track this fucker.” aizawa says, motioning to present mic. kuugo stops in his tracks as the realization hit him. aizawa was right, he still had a chance. he could find you. he dove towards his phone sitting back against his heels once he grabbed it and started searching frantically.

“he’s at the akasaka building!” if it was possible, any and all color would drain out of his face as he realized how tall that building is, “he’s gonna jump.” the other heros gasp as the words leave his mouth. he jumps up and bursts out the door ready to sprint all the way to your location before hawks’ hand stops him. he turns around ready to sock him in the face for trying to hold him back before he sees midnight standing behind hawks holding up a set of car keys.

“you won’t get there in time if you run.” she smiles softly, her usual seductive aura is no where to be found, just genuine concern in her voice.

“let’s go get your man.” hawks says, puffing his chest out.

-----

midnight sped down the road, swerving in between cars and honking at anyone she deemed was driving too slow.

“jesus, do you even know how to drive?!” hawks shouts as he holds onto the seat in front of him for dear life. kuugo sits in silence, his leg bouncing up and down as he watched the world zoom past him. this didn’t even feel real at this point. he didn’t know if you were okay, if you had already done it or if he still had time. he prayed he still had time.

-----

you stepped off the edge for a second, wanting to take off the expensive watch kuugo got you, not wanting to damage it. as you stepped back up you realized just how beat down and lost you were. you had just been going through the motions, feeling empty inside. adrenaline was rushing through your veins, so much so that the ringing in your ears got louder and louder to the point where you could barely hear anything. you closed your eyes as your head fell back and your arms opened up wide, accepting the cool breeze that moved through the material of your clothing as you took one more deep breath.

-----

the car screeched to a stop and kuugo jumped out, his blood running cold when he saw you standing at the top of the building. you were too high up to be able to hear him so he rushed inside the building trying to make his way to you as fast as he could. midnight and hawks watched you carefully, feeling it would be best if kuugo went alone. they didn’t want to overwhelm you even more.

he ran up the stairs as quick as his body would let him, deciding that the elevator would be too slow with it stopping on random floors. he had no time to waste. after what felt like hours of going up flight after flight of stairs, he finally saw a door with ‘roof access’ printed across it. he flung the door open and right as he did, he watched the love of his life fall over the edge.

he fell to his knees, his whole body feeling numb. he saw you for a split second, he thought he made it in time, but then you were gone. he couldn’t stop his animal instincts as deep moans and cries ripped through his chest. he had never felt such strong sadness before to the point where he made the sounds most whales do when they’re sad, but now he couldn’t help it. he felt like he had just lost his entire world.

-----

just when all had seemed lost, with kuugo hunched over with his face in his hands, he hears a whistling sound. he looks up to see hawks, with his wings flapping swiftly, and you in his arms. hawks lowered himself onto the roof, now standing before kuugo as the latter tried to process if this was real life or if he had passed out and was dreaming. hawks set you down and kuugo slowly stood up, walking towards you. he reached out and let his thumb run across your tear stained cheek. this was real.

“i’ll give you two some privacy..” hawks says before patting kuugo on the back and flying back down to where midnight stood by the car. kuugo’s eyes roamed your face as his other hand came up to cup the other side of your face. he steps closer to you and softly bumps his nose against your forehead.

“why..?” he whispers. and that one word causes you to breakdown. he wraps his arms around you tightly as you hug his waist in return. he sits back down again, pulling you down with him so you were laying in his lap.

“i’m s-sorry kuugo..” you grip his shirt as you bury your face into his chest. he holds your head, softly petting your hair to help calm you down.

“please... please don’t leave me, kid. i can’t live without you. please..” he hugs you tighter and burying his face into the top of your head. he memorized your touch, your voice, even your smell because he was so close to losing you. it felt like a miracle that he was able to hold you in his arms at that moment.

“i-i won’t.. i’m s-sorry. it just hurts so much.”

“i know, i know. i’m here though. i’ll protect you from anything. you have to come to me when you feel these feelings. we can work through them together, okay? you said on the phone you wasted my time, y/n any time spent with you is never a waste for me. it’s a gift.” you couldn’t help but cry even more, his words making you feel so much comfort and warmth that you never wanted to let go of him.

“trust that i’m saying the truth right now because,” he pulled back and softly lifted your chin up with his fingers, “i need you. you’re my everything...” you quickly wipe the tears still streaming down your face before pressing soft kisses to kuugo’s nose and cheeks. you held your nose to his, just looking into his eyes for a second before wrapping your arms around his neck and shoving your face into his shoulder. he wrapped your legs around his waist and stood up, easily carrying you because you just fit so perfectly in his arms. he kept his hands on your back as he walked, still moving them up and down slowly to comfort you.

“my baby boy...” he said softly as he kicked open the roof access door, “ let’s go home.”

#gang orca #kuugo sakamata #kuugo x male reader #kuugo angst #kuugo fluff #gang orca fluff #bnha fluff #gang orca x male reader

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acti-veg · 3 years

Note

I agree on pretty much everything you post apart from some of the posts about outdoor cats. I completely understand the concern for wildlife, and wanting to keep your cat safe from roads etc. But I have tried every possible alternative to letting my cat in the back garden (for example harnesses - she hates them, feliway / plenty of toys, growing grass indoors, and lots of indoor stimulation, it doesn’t make any difference) and she just is really unhappy if she doesn’t have access to the back garden all day. She will meow constantly and get very upset and frustrated. I’m working and can’t be there to watch her all the time to stop her from going into the neighbours’ gardens; I can’t always catch her anyway and she will get upset if I try to stop her. I get this is not ideal, idk if you’ve ever had cats but I think in reality it’s not always practical to keep a cat indoors. I always bring her in at night but during the day she needs the stimulation of the outdoors, there’s no way to completely replicate the variety of scents and sunlight and all the grass and earth that she loves to run around on. I feel like in theory it’s easy to say cats should be kept indoors but I really feel I’d be restricting my cat’s freedom so much and making her very unhappy if I forced her inside - I don’t think it’s as black and white as “you must keep your cat indoors”. I hope this doesn’t come across as disrespectful and I imagine you will continue to disagree but I just wanted to give a different perspective. I love your blog in general and think you do amazing work.

I think that any indoor cat owner will be able to empathise with this. I have three indoor cats in my life, so I very much do understand where you’re coming from. There are many unique challenges that come with keeping a cat indoors, and frankly that’s the main reason many people don’t do it.

Here is the reality of the situation though: Your cat cannot be allowed outdoors unsupervised. I know that sounds unhelpful, but everything else builds on the acceptance of the fact that a free roaming, unsupervised cat is not a viable option for a responsible pet owner. We know the incredible harm they do to ecosystems, we know that they decimate wild populations, and we know the risks of injury, disease and abduction. We also know that indoor cats tend to live longer and carry far less risk of serious injury. All of this outweighs the fact that your cat would prefer to be outside all day.

As pet owners, it is our responsibility to ensure the health and safety of the animals in our care. We cannot both do that and have animals that are allowed to roam completely unwatched; it is just not safe. We would not entertain this idea about any other animal, we would not take seriously the idea that an iguana must be allowed to roam outside on their own all day, or a dog, no matter how much either individual would enjoy doing so. Cats are not special in this capacity; they are good survivors sure, but they are also invasive species in an ecosystem not adapted to deal with them.

With this in mind, it’s about doing the best you can in your circumstances. If you can be outside with her to supervise her and prevent her roaming where you cannot get to her, then that is a great option, as is creating a fenced in outdoor space (look up catios) or cat-proofing existing fencing. Of course you can’t do watch her all day, nobody would expect you to, you can only do what you have time for. That she is upset when you try to stop her escaping is completely acceptable and expected. Many dogs are also upset when you prevent them from escaping your house and running into a busy street, as does any animal when you take them to thjje vet, abut you do it anyway, because it is for their own good. The same is true in this scenario.

Likewise, if a harness is the only way she is going to be allowed outside she will likely learn to adapt over time, no cat just likes them without prolonged training and explosure to them - you have to be persistant and reward her when she uses it. It sounds like you are doing lots of indoor enrichment too, which is great, so continue to do that alongside supervised time outside and lots of attention - that should be enough stimulation for any cat. No companion animal needs to be outside unsupervised, and allowing them to do so is just not responsible, however much they may enjoy it. I hope that makes sense anon.

#ask #cats #indoor cats #outdoor cats

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mattholicguilt · 3 years

Text

cats in the cradle by Duck_Life

Fandoms: Supernatural [Gen, No Archive Warnings Apply] Words: 1,745

Tags: Claire Novak & Patience Turner, Cats, Psychic Abilities, Grandparents & Grandchildren, Friendship, Found Family, claire novak will see a stray animal and be like, is anyone gonna project onto this, and not wait for an answer

Summary: Claire helps Patience hone her abilities. Patience helps Claire track down a cat.

Written for SPN Women Week Day 1. Prompt: "skills"

Bub is missing again.

“Bub” is the name of a mean stray cat missing a chunk from his ear. Claire’s been leaving cat food out for the ugly old thing for weeks now, and whenever he doesn’t come running she panics.

So, for the third time, Patience finds herself enlisted in the search for a cat that Claire doesn’t even technically own. “If it’s gonna bother you this much every time,” Patience says, “why don’t you just take it in? You know, get him his shots, a collar, a microchip.”

Claire makes a face at her before turning back to look at the road. She’s been driving around the neighborhood slowly, scoping out every shrub and checking under every parked car. “Bub doesn’t want to be chained down,” she explains. “He’s a free spirit.”

Alright, well, Patience is too tired to unpack that right now. She lets it lie and looks out the passenger’s side window, alert for any signs of movement. “Maybe he was never a stray at all,” she tries, “and his owner finally tracked him down and brought him home.”

“Do you know that?” Claire asks.

Claire’s always asking if Patience knows things— what happened on Jody’s date last weekend, what Dean’s middle name is, whether or not Alex is the one who ate the last ice cream sandwich in the freezer. Patience keeps trying to explain that she can only see the future. “Psychic” might be a misnomer— her abilities are precognitive, not telepathic.

She basically gets previews, little spoilers about what’s to come. And though she’s been working at it, she can’t seem to get her psychic abilities to do the kind of reading and divination her grandma could do. She gets glimpses with no context, no backstory.

Missouri Moseley could walk into a room and feel every ounce of heartbreak, grief, hope and faith in the people standing there. Patience can barely pick up on it when Alex and Claire are pissed at each other.

Still, Claire brings her along whenever the cat goes missing. Seems to think her ESP can home in on missing animals. Patience keeps telling her otherwise, and yet here she is, once again. That’s the trouble with having no social life and no better plans.

Maybe she should join a book club.

Claire rounds the corner, eyes darting around for any sight of the mangy cat. The first time Bub vanished from Claire’s sight, all the neighbors seemed intent to help. They explained they hadn’t seen the cat, but hoped Claire would find him soon and offered baked goods and platitudes in the meantime.

But these things have an expiration date. You can only lose the cat so many times before the routine gets old and the neighbors lose interest.

“My educated guess ?” Patience sighs. “The cat’ll come back when it gets hungry. Just like before.”

Claire makes a tch sound and mouths “educated guess” under her breath. Apparently, because Patience is psychic she’s supposed to be omniscient. “So which is it?” Claire says. “Is he back with his ‘real’ owners or is he going to come home when he gets hungry?”

“Don’t be a jerk,” Patience says. “I’m here, aren’t I? I’m helping you.”

“... Yeah. You are,” Claire says, ducking her head. “Sorry.” Her eyes scan the road ahead, looking for the telltale streak of a cat darting out from under a parked car or vanishing around a tree trunk. Still nothing. “Hey, Patience the Pet Psychic,” Claire says. “You should write that down, that’d be a great children’s book.”

“Very funny,” Patience says, rolling her eyes. She’s silent for a few moments and then says, “Cla-aire the Monster Slayer.”

“That doesn’t really rhyme.”

“Sure it does.”

When the sky darkens and the streetlights flick on, Claire drives them back to the house, Bub-less and dejected. “I’m sure he’s fine,” Patience tries.

Claire bunches her shoulders, the collar of her leather jacket looking like a cat’s raised hackles. Maybe, Patience thinks, that’s the connection— Claire in many ways resembles an angry cat. She and Bub might be kindred spirits.

“I’m just tired,” Claire says, yanking the keys out of the ignition. “We’ll try again tomorrow.”

Patience considers pointing out that Claire could at least ask instead of just assuming , considers reminding Claire that she has her own life outside of playing “pet psychic.”

But she doesn’t actually have anything to do tomorrow. Or the rest of the week. And as futile as it feels riding around looking for a runaway cat, it is something to do. And it makes Claire feel better.

And… straining her psychic muscles to pick up on any trace of the old tomcat is at least better than doing nothing and letting her abilities degrade. Over the last year, she’s been trying to find ways to train her brain, shape her psychic visions into something useful.

Jody’s supportive, but she, like most people, doesn’t know anything about being psychic. Kaia’s got a fraught relationship with her own special skills and usually chooses not to talk to Patience about seeing the future, and Alex is so entrenched in nursing and hunting that the few “normal” moments she gets at home are devoted to unwinding and relaxing.

Which makes Claire Patience’s most ardent supporter in developing her psychic abilities. A very grouchy, blonde and mostly clueless Yoda. What she lacks in background knowledge she makes up for in persistence.

“Hey, Patience, guess which hand?” Claire will ask, holding the last fortune cookie behind her back. “Hey, Patience, what number am I thinking of?” Claire will ask, perched on the arm of the couch. “Hey, Patience, heads or tails?” Claire will ask, flipping a coin to catch it in midair.

That’s not how it works. That’s not how any of it works— Patience can’t predict things at will. Her psychic visions operate on a schedule of their own, with no concern for Patience’s own convenience or comfort. One minute, she’s watching shitty reality TV while Alex nods off on her shoulder. The next, she’s watching Jody narrowly avoid being bitten by a vampire.

It’s a lot different from just guessing a coin toss. Still. Patience can’t help but think that her grandma would’ve passed all of Claire’s little tests with flying colors.

That night, Patience doesn’t dream about anything— at least, not anything useful. She has an anxiety dream about being lost in Aldi, roaming the aisles with increasing frustration. But nothing about the future. Nothing about Bub the cat.

She’s pouring herself a bowl of cereal when Claire stomps inside, the porch door swinging shut behind her. “Still gone,” she says darkly, grabbing the cereal box and her own bowl. “Food hasn’t been touched.”

“Claire,” Patience says, “why don’t we just go to the SPCA? You can get yourself a cat that’s not, you know—”

“What? Not damaged? Not a lost cause? Not hard to love?”

Whoa, Patience wants to say. “A cat that’s not missing ,” she finishes. “We can get him his shots and a collar and everything.”

“I don’t— I don’t just want some random cat,” Claire says. “I want to find Bub. I want… I want to find him and bring him home. I have to bring him home.”

“I know,” Patience says, and just like that she does . She does know.

She knows everything, feels everything, the aching loss in Claire’s bones that’s both recent and so, so old. Memories of Claire hitchhiking and stealing and conning her way through the country, desperately chasing a mother who was desperately chasing a dead man. Jimmy Novak’s voice in her head, his face seen through Claire’s eyes, Please, Castiel, take me. Just take me. Again, his forehead pressed to hers, Take care of your mom, okay, bub?

Bub.

Patience looks at Claire. Sees her, in a way she hasn’t been able to see anyone before. “Bub… ‘bub’ is what your dad used to call you.”

Claire squints at her. “Uh. Yeah,” she says. “Wait, I didn’t… I didn’t tell you that.”

“No,” Patience breathes, meeting her eyes across the kitchen, “you didn’t.”

Slowly, a grin spreads across Claire’s face. “Holy shit , Patience, you just… ? You just did that. You, like, read me.”

“I, uh, I didn’t know. That I could do that,” Patience says, caught between marveling at this new development and feeling self-conscious at intruding on Claire’s emotions and her past.

Claire doesn’t seem put off at all. She’s actually bouncing with excitement. “We gotta test this out. Oh my God. It’s like a whole new Pokemon evolution for you.”

“It’s not really. Like that. In any way.”

But Claire is already humming the Pokemon theme song. She grabs her car keys. “Alright, well, let’s go look for that cat. I’ve got a good feeling about today.”

“I read you, Claire, that doesn’t mean I can read the cat,” Patience reminds her.

“Yeah, yeah, but you can still help me look,” Claire says. “I don’t need your third eye, just the two on your face.”

“That’s… yeah, fine,” Patience acquiesces. To be honest, she’s buzzing with the knowledge of what she can do with her powers. If Claire’s happy to be her test subject, she’ll spend all day with the girl. “Just let me grab a coffee.”

“Ooh, me too. Wait!” She wiggles her fingers toward Patience. “Do you Know how I like my coffee?”

“Half-and-half. And enough sugar to kill you,” Patience reels off. “But that’s not because I’m psychic. I’ve just seen you fix yourself coffee before.”

“Y’know, I think the line between ‘psychic’ and ‘observant’ is thinner than you might think.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Patience says, and then pretends to stumble backward toward the table, overacting the part. “Oh, oh, I’m having a vision… I see you … making coffee for us…”

Claire rolls her eyes, but she dutifully sets her keys down and busies herself with getting the travel mugs out. “That’s not gonna work for everything, you know.”

“Aaah I see you bringing Jody’s suit to the dry cleaners next week. I also see you driving me to the science museum.”

“Hilarious.”

Patience smiles at her. It’s nice to have someone else get excited about her powers. It’s nice to be allowed to be excited about this, to learn a new skill and have it mean something good to someone besides herself. She doesn’t feel like a freak or a failure. She just feels… like a psychic.

She feels like her grandma would be proud.

#spnwomenweek #day 1: skills #patience turner #claire novak #spn #supernatural

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miraculouswolf99 · 4 years

Text

Field Trip To Greece

My own take on the Field Trip salt stories that usually are crossovers with Batman and have Damienette. But this is my version with them going to Greece and involves my OCs Lyon and Vallia Garden.

*****

“Mari, Mari, MARI,” Adrien basically yelled into his friend’s ear.

Marinette woke up with a jolt in her bus seat.

“What,” she groaned, never being much of a morning person.

“We’re almost at the sanctuary, so I figured to wake you up,” Adrien smiled at his friend.

“Thanks and curse how fast this bus is,” Marinette said.

“And curse Hawkmoth for late night akumas,” Adrien suggested.

“That to,” Marinette agreed. “Even in Greece, he still finds a way to annoy us in Paris.”

“Well, you brought the horse miraculous for a reason,” Adrien said.

“How are you not tired,” Marinette questioned him.

“I’ve always been a morning person,” Adrien shrugged. “Blame my father for a lot of early morning photoshoots.”

“I’d slap your father if it did not mean risking my future as a fashion designer in the process,” Marinette says.

After revealing themselves to each other after Miracle Queen, the two had developed a more brother-sister relationship. They both thought that it would be better for them to know each other after having all their allies exposed to Hawkmoth and Mayura. They joked around, teased each other, and also always had each others backs.

Having each other’s backs certainly helped them when Lila’s lies got worse. After Chloe had willingly helped Hawkmoth, she had been sent to a private reformatory school in Sweden. Lila took the opportunity to tell more of her lies, saying that she had been telling her “best friend” Ladybug to keep the Bee miraculous away from Chloe for months. And just like everything else Lila ever said, their class ate it up like it was their last meal.

Adrien had joined Marinette almost immediately after he made his “deal with the devil” in order to get her back into school. He threw himself off the “high road” the moment that Marinette told him that Lila threatened her. But even with him backing up Marinette every time she caught inconsistencies in Lila’s tales, there were still few that actually believed them. Some even went as far as scolding Marinette for her “brainwashing Adrien” into thinking that Lila was a liar.

Kim, Juleka, and Nathaniel were the only ones that stayed loyal to their friends. Especially since Marinette had done so much for them in the past. Like curing Juleka of her photo curse, helping Nathaniel get together with Marc, and Kim had been her friend since they were in diapers. With their group was also Kagami, Luka, Marc, Aurore, and Mireille. The rest of Bustier’s class was pretty much made up of Lila’s attack dogs.

What annoyed Adrien the most was how his so-called best friend. Nino may be siding with his girlfriend, Alya being Lila’s biggest supporter/attack dog, but that also meant he was part of the problem. He certainly never helped Adrien when Lila would constantly hold onto his arm no matter how many times he told her to let go. It was driving Adrien crazy and he was very close to taking Plagg up on his offer to Cataclysm the liar.

“I bet the garden is going to be beautiful,” Juleka says, her seat next to the two heroes.

She was sitting next to Nathaniel while Kim was in the seat in front of Adrien and Marinette. They were all in the seats at the back of the bus.

“I heard that the Garden Family Sanctuary is ranked as an unofficial wonder of the world,” Nathaniel said.

“Anyone else find it odd that a nature sanctuary is run by a family with Garden as their last name,” Kim asked.

“I think this is one of those ‘don’t think about it too much’ times,” Marinette shrugged.

“I haven’t been here in years,” Adrien was glad to be back.

“You’ve been here before,” Juleka asked.

“There was a charity fashion show here about a year before my mother disappeared,” Adrien explained. “I was here with my parents for it.”

“Did you meet any of the animals here,” Kim looked excited. “I heard that they let any animals here roam free even when they have events or tours here.”

“The animals do roam around the sanctuary as they wish,” Adrien says. “But the Garden family and all their employees work hard to tame all their animals privately to make sure that even the predators do not harm anyone. They spend months to years taming them before releasing them into the main part of the sanctuary.”

“It really sounds like an amazing place,” Marinette said.

“I can’t wait to draw some of the animals,” Nathaniel already had out his sketchpad. “Marc requested I draw him the most amazing animal that I see. No pressure. Haha.”

Juleka patted his shoulder, but her obviously hiding her laughter made her attempt to comfort him fail.

But, as usual, their good moods had to be ruined by the Italian that never seemed to go five minutes without hearing the sound of her own voice. And, also as usual, she was spouting her nonsense. They were very close to throwing her out the back of the bus if she did not stop talking.

“Of course I know the Garden family,” Lila brags, lying through her teeth. “They are basically family to me.”

“Here we go again,” the five friends groaned.

“The mother and her two daughters mostly handle the plants,” Lila continues. “The father and their son handle the animals. It’s only natural since they are the only ones that can stomach having to put down the more dangerous animals.”

“Tell us more, Lila,” Alya was recording the entire time.

Adrien growled. “There has never been a case of an animal being put down at the sanctuary. The closest that comes to that is when an animal gets sick and there is nothing they can do to help it.”

“They have to put it out of its misery, don’t they,” Marinette asked.

Adrien nodded. “The youngest two Gardens speak fluent French, so I was able to spend some time with kids my own age during the fashion show. They told me that while it breaks their hearts, it is better than letting the animal suffer.”

“I can see where they come from for that,” Juleka says. “They love, take care of, and train all the animals. So it’s only natural that they form a bond with them.”

“I know I am not the brightest person in class, but how can they believe such crap,” Kim shook his head. “Whenever anyone even slightly mentions someone famous, she instantly says she is either best friends with them or somehow related to them. It’s impossible.”

“Tell that to the sheep that follow her around like she’s god’s gift to the world,” Marinette rolled her eyes.

“Makes you wonder if we really are the only ones in class with braincells,” Nathaniel, of all people, said.

The bus doors opened as it came to a full stop at the sanctuary. Bustier was the first out and the class followed her. They all first went into the sanctuary. And even from what little they could see from where they were, it already was one of the most beautiful places any of them have ever seen.

Trees, flowers, and even fruit and vegetable plants were growing as far as their eyes could see. The entire sanctuary also seemed to be covered by a glass dome, making an environment similar to a greenhouse. It made sense since there were probably plants in certain areas that needed to be grown in certain temperatures.

But today the dome’s windows were open, letting in the natural light of the sun, even if it looked like squares on the ground because of the dome’s window linings.

As Bustier lead them to a stop, two teen their age approached the group. Adrien recognized his two penpals. The ones he met in Greece when he was there for the fashion show. Lyon and Vallia Garden.

Vallia was quite beautiful and had a grace and elegance to her style. She had long blond hair braided with roses and butterflies and had pink streaks. Her eyes were a stunning silver that you could see, if you were close enough, had specks of blue in them. Her style was a red, pink, and purple dawn colored dress with gold flats. On her wrists were diamond rose cuff bracelets, a butterfly on the one on her right wrist.

Lyon gave off a very icy exterior that also screamed honor and loyalty that only a knight would have. A tall boy with hair that was black with streaks of white and blue in it, coming to the length of Adrien's. His eyes were the opposite of the girl's, blue with silver specks. His outfit of choice was a sky blue t-shirt under a white jean vest, matching the blue pants with white boots. On his hands were white fingerless gloves. Around his neck was a sword and shield pendant as well as a white cloak only going down to his knees.

They all also saw that the two did have crystal medallions on their foreheads. Vallia’s was a rose quartz butterfly and Lyon’s was a sapphire wolf.

“Your pen pals are hot, Adrien,” Marinette smirked as she saw her honorary brother staring at Lyon.

“Shut up,” Adrien grumbled, making Marinette giggle.

Bustier turns to the class. “These two are going to be our guides through the sanctuary. Please show them the proper amount of respect since they are the ones that work here.”

Lyon and Vallia gave the teacher the side-eye. While they technically did work there, their family owned the sanctuary and it was like Bustier had completely forgot about that and thought that they were just employees of the sanctuary.

“Shouldn’t we be guided by adults,” Mylene asked, trying not to sound offensive to the two teens.

“We’re your tour guides because we are the only ones here fluent in French,” Lyon told the class, his French flawless.

Adrien hid that he was chuckling behind his hand. He knew the twins were fluent, but the looks on his classmate’s faces when Lyon spoke in French was just so funny.

“Before we begin, let us introduce ourselves,” Vallia said, also switching to French. “My name is Vallia and this is my twin brother, Lyon.”

“Please also take note of a few rules of the sanctuary,” Lyon says. “While the animals here have been tamed, do not touch or interact with them without permission. Certain movements or actions could cause them to badly react. They are all also on specific diets, so do not feed them unless we give you food to give them.”

“The plants should also all remain untouched,” Vallia added. “There are certain plants here that are not native to the area and survive here only because we created the right environments for them. Especially the ghost orchid. There are barely even 2000 ghost orchid plants left in the world and they need to remain here so that they do not go extinct.”

Most of the class nodded, understanding the rules. Lila hid how annoyed she was at not being able to take whatever beautiful plant she wants or touch any cute animal that she sees.

The tour than began, the class following the twins deeper into the sanctuary. Already they were starting to see a ton of the animals that lived there. There were some animals of Greek origins. Such as brown bears, red deer, lynxes, rock lizards, weasels, and wild boar. There were also more international animals. Like white-tailed deer from North America, jaguars from South America, pandas from China, African panthers and lions, Indian tigers, horses from Canada, even komodo dragons from Indonesia. And that was just the beginning.

“The Garden Family Sanctuary was founded almost a hundred years ago by siblings Apollo and Persephone Garden,” Lyon says. “Having been named after the god of the healing and the goddess of flowers, they had always loved helping nature and animals.”

“They started out with an animal shelter that took in any and all animals,” Vallia continued for her brother. “They had a very clear rule about being a no-kill shelter. The more popular they became, the more room they needed. And since they already came from a rich family, they bought more land. And over the years, it grew into the sanctuary you see today.”

“With the amount of animals and plants coming, there has been chat about buying land on another island to expand the sanctuary,” Lyon said. “Which means more area to protect from smugglers and poachers.”

“Your French is very good,” Marinette compliments them.

“Thank you, we’ve had years of practice,” Vallia says.

“It helped when we hosted a few French fashion designers here a few years ago for a charity fashion show,” Lyon said.

Adrien caught the smirk that Lyon sent his way. It made the blond blush.

The group continued walking through the sanctuary. A few of the animals curiously looked at the group, but chose not to get near them. There were a few did cuddle up to the twins, who happily petted them before sending them away with a treat in their mouth.

But even as the twins tried to talk about the sanctuary, Lila was still telling her lies as the classmates not under her spell surrounded her. They listened to her more than they did their actual tour guides.

“Yeah, poachers and smugglers try to get in all the time,” she was saying. “The first time I was here, I saw one and tried to tell the employees and they didn’t believe me. They certainly did after I single-handedly stopped him from taking a rare blue tiger.”

“That is so cool, Lila,” Rose unknowingly encouraged more lying.

“They should make you a partner here if you caught a poacher that they did not even know was there,” Alya said.

“They wanted to, but my mother said I was too young to be part of a business,” Lila says.

Adrien saw the twins look at each other as they hear what is being said. He knew that while the two were mostly quiet around those they do not know, other than when they gave tours, they would definitely not take liars sitting down. They were extremely protective of their family, which was why Lyon practiced archery while Vallia is an expert with the bo-staff.

“The Garden family would never offer someone outside of the family a part of the sanctuary,” Lyon stated, making the class look at him.

“We would appreciate you not tell such tall tales about such a charitable family,” Vallia crossed her arms. “They are well-respected by all of Greece and do not deserve to have such lies told about them.”

The class looked very insulted at the accusation of Lila being a liar, which happened whenever anyone said that. It happened more than you think since Bustier’s class was the only one in the entire school that actually believed her. Everyone else knew that Lila was nothing but a liar.

“Something tells me that things are about to get interesting,” Juleka whispered to the rest of their group.

“You’re the one that knows them, Adrien,” Marinette says. “What do you think they’ll do?”

“I’ve been in contact with them for years,” Adrien said. “And from all I know about them, it’s a slight miracle that Lyon hasn’t already threatened to shoot her with an arrow.”

“Does he do that often,” Nathaniel raised an eyebrow.

“Only to those that really anger him, really annoy him, or threaten his family,” Adrien said. “But that last part also includes the sanctuary and all of the animals kept here.”

“Guess we should be thankful that he doesn’t have them on him right now,” Kim says. “Even if he could get rid of our liar problem with a single shot.”

“Lyon was actually scouted by the coach of the Greek Olympian archery team,” Adrien tells them. “But Lyon doesn’t like competition. He says that they are nothing but barbaric events meant to to do nothing but enlarge egos and decrease braincells.”

“Can are class even lose what they don’t have,” Marinette smirked.

All of them laughed at her joke. When Marinette got sassy and sarcastic, it was hilarious. She could sass-talk like nobody’s business.

“Haw dare you,” Lila put a hand over her heart and then started up the crocodile tears again. “How could you be so mean to me?”

That was when her sheep glared at the twins.

“Lila is not a liar,” Alya was her main supporter as usual. “You’re nothing but simple employees. I bet you do not even know the Garden family. Lila, on the other hand, is basically an honorary member of their family.”

Both twins crossed their arms this time, staring down the class.

“Let us fully introduce ourselves,” Lyon narrowed his eyes at them. “My name is Lyon Garden and this is my twin sister, Vallia Garden. Our family owns this sanctuary and neither of us nor the rest of their family have ever met this girl.”

Adrien was seriously smirking at this point. He had seen this coming and was very glad that it had finally was. Especially since Lila did not even get the number of family members right. There were two Garden parents, but the children were another story. Lyon and Vallia were the youngest of the family, but Vallia was the only girl and they had two older brothers.

“You’re probably just lying to make Lila look bad because you’re jealous,” Alix glared at the twins. “She’s connected to the Gardens while you are not.”

“Don’t believe us, we don’t care, but we do have a friend in your class that knows who we are,” Vallia giggled. “Isn’t that right, Adrien?”

The sheep looked at the model. He only smirked as he joined Lyon and Vallia’s side.

“You two certainly know how to make an impression,” Adrien tells them, chuckling.

“If we really wanted to make an impression, I would have started at my favorite wolf den,” Lyon snickered. “But I would have been too tempted to order my wolves to eat them.”

Adrien laughed at the looks of horror on his classmates’ faces.

“If you guys haven’t figured it out, it was my family that the twins were talking about before,” Adrien says. “We were the ones that came here for the charity fashion show. It was great to meet the two youngest members of the Garden family.”

“So these are the sheep that follow that liar like lost puppies,” Vallia looked at Adrien. “The liar that doesn’t know how to take ‘no’ for an answer?”

“Got it in one, Vallia,” Adrien says. “And she’s been telling lies about your family since this field trip started. She even said that your family was three girls and two boys.”

The twins rolled their eyes.

“Wow,” Lyon shook his head. “Vallia might wish she had a sister, it’s just us and our two older brothers with our parents.”

Vallia playfully slapped her brother’s shoulder.

While Adrien took his two friends over to the rest of his group to introduce them, the rest of the class finally seemed to get that Lila did indeed lie to them. They turned on her like lions on an antelope and started yelling at her for lying to them.

The twins made mental notes to contact their parents about needing to sue a girl for slander and defamation.

#ml salt #alya salt #lila salt #Lila exposed #original character #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #miraculous fandom

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qqueenofhades · 3 years

Note

I am loving all the Fivan fics. Thank you! I feel like we may now need some good old fashion Fivan hook up. If you’re in the “mood.” Get it? Mood? See what I did there? :)

An excellent idea. So let's have some "yay I survived my interview!" smut. Below the cut for sexy, very NSFW reasons.

The moment he locks eyes with his husband across the dusty, noisy courtyard, crowded fit to bursting with otkazat’sya, Heartrenders, Healers, Fabrikators, Durasts, Squallers, Inferni, horses, pack animals, wagons, and the other detritus of the battalions finally returning from six months on the Fjerdan frontlines, Fedyor Kaminsky knows for an unassailable fact that they are not going to make it to the bedroom. He has been going out of his mind, even if he has been diligently focused on the equally important duty (or so he tells himself) of serving as a guard for the Grisha examiners traveling around the country, providing support for the supply lines to Shu Han, and otherwise trying not to think about the fact that this is the longest they have been separated since they got married. Fedyor is a good soldier, and a loyal servant. He has done his job exceptionally well, and so, off in the godforsaken frozen wastes of Tsibeya, has Ivan. But right now, in a crowd of thousands, the only thing the two of them can hear is each other’s heartbeats, and all they can see is their life.

Fedyor raises a hand, as if he actually needs to do this to let Ivan know that he’s there. Ivan glances at him, shucking his fur hat and ripping open the buttons on his black-embroidered red kefta, now that they’re back in the safety of the Little Palace and don’t have to worry about gunfire. Ivan, curse his contrary northern heart, then turns away to discuss something with the equally dusty general, as if Kirigan didn’t have all that damn time on the road. Fedyor wonders how much trouble he would get into, exactly, if he murdered his commanding officer. Or maybe just gave him a minor heart attack.

It probably only takes a few minutes, though it feels like forever to Fedyor. He is, he likes to think, normally a patient man, but not when he hasn’t seen Ivan for six months and is standing a dozen yards away with a hundred other people and not yet able to touch him. Finally he catches Ivan’s eye again, affects a nonchalant shrug, and turns to leave the courtyard, as if to signal that if Ivan would like to catch up, he should really get on it. Nothing to Fedyor himself, though. He has important things to do elsewhere, do svidaniya.

To Fedyor’s entirely unqualified smug delight, it takes barely thirty seconds until he hears the sound of pounding boots running up at full speed behind him, and breathes a strong smell of horse, sweat, and unwashed Heartrender. That part he is less thrilled about, but in the next instant, a pair of fiercely strong arms are around his waist, he is being pushed into the nearest room with a door that closes and locks, and Ivan growls into his mouth, “You are a little bastard, Fedya.”

Fedyor would answer, but he’s currently too busy making out with Ivan like their lives depend on it, their hands pulling and clutching and seizing fistfuls of each other, the usual desperate ritual that they have to perform after a lengthy separation, checking that everything is real and right and good. Ivan only pulls back long enough to start feverishly unbuttoning Fedyor’s kefta, and the reinforced material hits the floor with an authoritative thump. Fedyor then dives in to take his turn, except Ivan clearly thinks he’s going too slowly, and pulls it off over his head himself, which is not as easy as it looks. Underneath, he’s wearing only his linen undertunic, and then he shucks that too.

Fedyor lets his eyes roam luxuriously over the hard muscles of Ivan’s torso, searching for the subterranean lines of new scars. He can always tell when they’re there, even when the Healers have smoothed them away. He shrugs out of his own tunic, as Ivan has already started on the lacing of his trousers. He accomplishes the necessary revisions, then grabs hold of Fedyor and walks him straight to the nearest flat surface, which as it happens is a wall. A nice wall as walls go – it’s covered with a thick, soft tapestry of someone who appears to be Sankt Vladimir, who is about to get one hell of an eyeful that is probably not at all Saint-appropriate – but still a wall. Fedyor bites a grin, then pants, “Really, Vanya? Can’t even make it to a divan?”

“You want to go find a damn divan?” Ivan, distracted from his frenzy of lust just long enough to (barely) form words, looks vastly irritated. “Or do you want me to fuck you now?”

“I wasn’t aware it was an either/or – ah – situation.” Fedyor gets cut off as Ivan lunges in for another growly, possessive kiss, his big, callused hands clamping firm hold of Fedyor’s hips. They make out with luxurious sloppiness for another minute or two, but Fedyor can’t really wait much longer either. He fumbles for the laces of his own breeches, slipping them off his waist and kicking them free of his feet, as Ivan digs in the pocket of his fallen kefta for the small vial of oil he keeps there. (It’s usually for saddle leather, but it does also have additional purposes.) He flicks it expertly open with one thumb, pours in a palmful, and rubs his hands together to warm them up. Then he grabs Fedyor and pulls him close, slicks them both, and murmurs something incoherent against the back of his neck. Asking, as he still does despite the almost-decade they have been together, for permission.

“Saints,” Fedyor pants, pressing himself back against Ivan with desperate, starving need. “What do you think, you utter blockhead?”

He feels Ivan smile, the rough curve of his mouth against the tender nape of Fedyor’s neck, the scratch of the unshaven stubble on his chin. He takes a better grip on Fedyor’s hips, his knees sliding between Fedyor’s thighs to push them apart, and eases into him. Slowly at first, carefully. Then, all at once, almost savagely, to the hilt.

Fedyor hisses, moans, clutching ragged fistfuls of the tapestry in order to keep his balance, as Ivan presses against him and then into him at full length, joining their bodies in raw and naked and utterly intimate communion. Ivan bites the back of Fedyor’s shoulder and swears again, and Fedyor wriggles his hips to ease the fit, as one of Ivan’s oil-slick hands slips down between them to be sure. Then he reaches up again and clamps his hands over Fedyor’s where they grip the tapestry, crushing their knuckles together with almost bruising force. Then he thrusts with his full strength, pinning Fedyor flat against the wall, and both of them gasp.

Their mental connection, their utter attunement to the other’s heartbeat and body and breath and bone and space, doubles the pleasure like an amplifier, so they feel both their own ecstasy and each other’s, shared and reflected back and magnified until it’s no longer possible to tell which sensation belongs to who. Fedyor is himself, with Ivan inside him, and he is also Ivan inside Fedyor, and he is something both and neither, and whatever prayer he is mouthing now is one that even Sankt Vladimir has never heard. It is heat and hardness and madness, soft for a moment or two and then rough again, delightful, claiming, possibly only between two lovers who know each other as intimately and trust each other as thoroughly as they do. Ivan is hitting the sweet spot in him, over and over until Fedyor thinks his own heart will burst sooner than stand it. Then Ivan’s hands let go of his and grab his waist again, dragging him as close as can be managed as they both lose their minds, and then the rest of them. Fedyor loses his grip on the tapestry and slides down it to the floor.

They remain where they are, breathing wildly, entangled, Ivan still halfway inside him, slick with sweat and having utterly desecrated this nice drawing room that some unsuspecting Grisha will walk into later completely oblivious as to what it has just hosted. Then they hear an imperious voice in the corridor outside. “Ivan? Ivan!”

Saints absolutely strike him dead, it is the general. Even in his dazed post-coital haze, Fedyor is perfectly capable of wishing for it. How the hell has Aleksander bloody Kirigan not had enough time to talk to Ivan already? They’ve been on campaign together for half a year!

The footsteps come closer. “Ivan? Are you in here?”

Swearing for a rather different reason, Ivan pulls away from Fedyor, making both of them moan, and scrambles across the floor on all fours, frantically trying to get dressed before Kirigan barges in without knocking, as he has a bad habit of doing. (When you’re the Black General and this entire palace is your personal fiefdom, why would you bother?) Fedyor likewise does his best to grope wildly for his discarded clothing, but has only managed to lace himself back into his breeches and pull on his under-tunic before the door opens. “Ivan! I need you to check the requisitions for that last – ”

At that, Kirigan stops short, taking in their state of barely-habiliment, Fedyor’s mildly murderous smile, and Ivan’s painfully studied nonchalance. His eyes flick them up and down. “Mr. Kaminsky,” he says. “I’m glad to see you’re welcoming Ivan home?”

“Yes, sir,” Fedyor says, his smile now even more fixed. “Absolutely, sir.”

Kirigan’s dark gaze surveys them again, even as his face remains unreadable. Then he clears his throat and coughs delicately. “The requisitions can wait until after supper,” he says. “Presuming that you make it. Good day.”

(Fedyor and Ivan do not, very decidedly, make it to supper.)

#ivan x fedyor #heartrender husbands #fivan #anonymous #ask #fivan ff

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absurdthirst · 4 years

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I recently adopted a dog, and she is the cutest thing but keeps jumping on the couch and stealing shoes. Got me wondering how the boys would react to their s/o bringing home a dog.

When You Bring Home A Dog:

Javier: “We can’t keep it, querida” He ignores the puppy dog look you give him. He wants to give in, but it’s not possible. “We work too many hours and you know what happened to Murphy’s cat. We can’t risk it.” He won’t admit that the dog is the cuter than hell, it will just give you more ammunition to try to convince him to keep it. He wants to, he grew up with dogs on the ranch. But you two can’t give the dog the attention it needs right now. He does make a promise to himself that once you are out of Columbia, the two of you will have as many dogs as you want.

Catfish: Another? Awesome! I’m convinced this soft boy already as a dog. Some mutt he either found or adopted. Great big lazy thing that sheds too much and has decided that the couch is his and he sometimes lets you sit on it. He might be a touch worried about how the dogs will interact, but he’s immediately dropping down to his knees and petting him once the pooch has sniffed him and given him his approval. Expect to be bombarded with questions. Where did you get them? Did you adopt? Please tell this man you did NOT buy the pup from a store. The entire time he is scratching the dogs ears and playing with him.

Mando: NO. Put it back where you got it from. We can’t have a dog on the Crest. He refuses to budge on this. Between you and the kid, there is enough bodies taking up space. Plus, there’s the issue that you spend weeks in space and the little fact that the remnants of the Empire are currently hot on your tails. What are you supposed to do. “Hold on for a second, let me walk my dog before you try to kill us.” Yep...Sorry, this just is the type of life you have pets. Besides, what if the kid tries to eat the dog?????

Tovar: Good. You need a dog around the place when he is not around. Something to let you know when a stranger approaches. He would prefer that you not treat them like a king, using them for their true purpose. A guard, an extra sense of security when he is on the road. But you’ve seen him slip scraps of food to the dog. He’s even gone so far as to build the pup an enclosed shelter next to the house for when the weather in nice. And he’s the one that lets the dog in with the snow flies. He’s still going to grumble and call them a spoiled pup, even as he is scratching behind their ears.

Ezra: As much as it pains him, he is going to have to say no. Oh he wants to. He remembers the carefree joy of having a pet when he was a boy. But it’s not meant to be right now. Again this is no life for an animal. A dog needs space to roam, to run and be free. You visit too many toxic places to work. And it is unfair to keep an animal caged in the Pod. One day, when the two of you have made your fortunes, you will settle on a small moon and then you will have whatever creatures your heart desires. But until then, it’s just not feasible.

Max Phillips: I am going have to steal just a bit from @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa. (If you haven’t read With Cherries On Top, you need to!!!) NO, HELL NO. Mutts hate him. They smell what he is and they can’t stand him. He doesn’t need the little shit barking down the building and growling at him every time he walks into the room. It’s not even a matter of getting used to him, they sense his nature. He’s a predator, higher no the food chain than they are and not one dog has ever warmed up to him since he turned. Come to think of it, they didn’t really like him before. Maybe they sense douchebag as well as evil.

Agent Whiskey: What’s one more? He will be absolutely thrilled. It will be added to the six horses, 4 billy goats, 2 dogs, 3 barn cats (They stay in the barn because he’s allergic, but they keep the mice away) and the potbelly pig. That’s not even mentioning the cattle, but thats another story. You have a menagerie of animals. He would even keep rabbits and chickens, but they are meant to be food and he doesn’t think you will stop naming everything, so it’s best to not. He’s in love with the fact that you picked out the dog, feeling comfortable with bringing them home to the spread. He makes a note to let the ranch manager know. That way he can get to know the pup so when you two are away, he’s keeping track of three dogs, rather than two.

Marcus: He wants to say no. He knows that it’s not realistic. You both work crazy hours, and it seems like you are never home sometimes. Bringing an animal into that? But he also can't resist the fact that you want this. A bit of permanence, foreshadowing the family you might want in the future. He caves, especially when you look at him and tell the puppy, “Daddy will love you just as much as I do.” He’s a goner. Your townhouse in DC does have a backyard, so Marcus will spend the weekend installing one of those dog doors that only open with the radio sensor collar. That way the pup isn’t stuck in the house all day. And making sure there are no weaknesses in the fence for it to escape from. He’s not going to lie, coming home to you and a dog happy to see him is feeding into that dream that the two of you are building a life together. And he loves it.

MasterList

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#pedro pascal character headcanons #javier pena headcanon #mando headcanon #the mandalorian headcanons #pero tovar headcanon #catfish morales headcanons #ezra headcanon #marcus pike headcanon #max phillips headcanon #agent whiskey headcanons

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maruzzewrites · 3 years

Text

Commission - Risotto/Falena

This was a commission I did a long time ago, almost a year ago now. I wanted to post it but I forgot, and recently I remembered it so here we go!

cw for death, violence, gore.

The car jumped a little, along the long road that stretched in the countryside. The potholes, the gravel, the old dampers contributed to the slow drive towards the Nero family’s farm. Falena sat, quietly, in the back of the car, watching the landscape shift and change as if running along with them, Risotto just watching his own hands at her side, in complete silence.

The classic playing at the radio filled the air, along with the gentle humming of Risotto’s father. A kind man, not pushing neither to speak to him or among each other when he understood their need for privacy. Despite the lack of words, Falena was eagerly waiting for the playdate, never having been to a farm before.

She asked Risotto’s father, earlier, if she could pick some oranges when she would get to the farm, and he laughed sweetly before assuring her she’d get some, the best ones he could find. Risotto then, as if a surge of bravery came over him at his own father’s words, affirmed he would show her his favorite animals. With the promises in her mind and Risotto’s averted gaze after her enthusiastic grin, Falena settled on her seat and waited with anticipation growing in her heart.

In the few minutes that separated them from their destination, Risotto pointed to her the roof of his house, emerging from the line separating the ground and the sky. She smiled, grabbed the seat belt to slip it over her head and allow her neck to be free. Risotto protested her action, while his father chuckled at the amazed look on her face as she leaned closer to the front seat to see the building.

It wasn’t as large as she imagined, but the romantic idea of a cozy house she built in her head did come true: behind a wall made of stones, a quaint house on two floors, with wooden shutters and flowers cascading over the walls, ivy reaching along the edges of the patio. On the side, deeper into the large space in front of the house proper, was the barn. Falena only assumed that the fields would be somewhere behind it.

The car turning and entering the large, open gate to stop under the canopy wasn’t quick enough for her eagerness, and Falena tried to jump out of the car even before unhooking the belt. As soon as she was free from her restraints, she opened the door and stepped outside. She circled the car to find herself in front of an open space of tiny, white rocks, grass growing all around.

Risotto’s dad came to nudge her a bit to the side, closing the gate. In the meanwhile, Risotto climbed out of the car too, and walked to her side as he kept his eyes on his dad. The man turned to them and grinned, shooing them away with a playful tone before reminding both of them that lunch would be ready soon enough. Risotto didn’t waste any time to grab Falena’s hand and drag her into the farm, passing the house and heading to the barn.

Once there, he pushed the door open. The smell wasn’t part of the picturesque image in Falena’s mind, but the loud noises of animals reacting to the new visitors was something she expected. The donkeys were ruminating in their corner, placid as always, but the chickens were walking around as they poured outside from the separated room where their nests were. Risotto, when the rooster approached, stomped his foot in front of it, his chest out in an imitation of what would be an intimidating man. Falena giggled, and Risotto turned, a bit embarrassed.

To avoid showing off his red cheeks, he walked to the back of the barn. There, against the wall, were some cages with fluffy rabbits. Risotto went over each cage, telling their names to a focused Falena, who traced the wires in front of their faces in awe. Their snouts would move in sync with their eating, their bright eyes fixed in front of them. Risotto, then, gently pushed her towards the only two cows. They were bigger than Falena imagined, tall and calm, their fur soft as Risotto guided her tinier hand on their sides. Their tails moved, cutting through the air, and Falena thought it was like when dogs were happy.

As they were enjoying this moment, Risotto’s dad came into the barn to call them to the table. Falena didn’t want to leave the animals behind, but despite her desire, her traitorous stomach rumbled loud enough to make the man laugh. So she accepted her fate and followed Risotto’s dad inside the house, her friend right at her side.

The lunch was tasty, she met Risotto’s mother and grandparents, who asked about her family and herself with kindness. At some point, the focus shifted from the guest to more adult conversations, leaving Falena and Risotto on their own, with privacy among the adults. Taking advantage of his relatives’ distraction, Risotto pressed his finger on his lips, signaling her to keep quiet, and grabbed a handful of bread from the table. He quickly shoved the loaf in his pocket, leaving his hand there so the food wouldn’t fall down onto the floor.

Falena couldn’t understand, but kept her mouth shut. Lunch passed by quickly, and the adults didn’t have too many worries at leaving the two of them running away as they stood up to clean behind them. Risotto grabbed Falena’s wrist, leading her towards the side of the bard, where she could see a fence around an opening in the wall. As they got closer, she noticed the pigs roaming around the closed space, huge and pink.

Risotto threw a look behind, to see if anyone was around, and then fished the bread he brought. He handed a bit to her, throwing it over the fence to the pigs, who ran to eat it in no time. Risotto grinned, a full smile on his face for the first time since they were there, despite inviting her was his own idea. He turned to her, encouraging her to throw her piece too. As she did and while the animals would run to the food, Falena observed the smile on her friend’s face, bright, shining as the sun.

She asked if this was his favorite animal. Risotto nodded, and told her she wanted to show her how fast they were at eating. How his dad told him to be careful because they were ravenous, and how he would pick him up and pretend to throw him over to them. To underline the last point, he approached her and went to pick her up, her feet barely leaving the ground before she started to trash around and yell. Risotto let her fall down again, laughing.

Falena pouted, raising her hands and pushing him away. That did little to stop him from snickering, until she poked his cheeks right where his dimples were. Risotto’s laugh stopped with a choking sound, his face flushing suddenly, and his hands went to cover his cheeks. Falena simply giggled, but reassured him his dimples were cute. It took a while for Risotto to recompose himself enough, a bit more for him to start running around with her to explore the farm.

They spent the afternoon between Risotto’s favorite activities, homeworks under the watchful eye of his grandparents, and occasionally sneaking food out of the kitchen to feed the pigs. Before the sun could set, Falena had to return, and Risotto insisted on going with her to say his goodbyes. Unluckily, they both fell asleep on the road, and when Risotto’s father woke her up so that she could hop off the car, her friend was still deep asleep on the seat. The next day, Risotto apologized for rudely sleeping without saying goodnight and he promised next time it wouldn’t happen.

From that day, most of their weeks were planned around the possibility of visiting his farm. Or him staying at Falena’s house. With months passing, they had sleepovers and consecutive days to spend together. When they grew up to be older, in middle school, and their parents didn’t have the possibility to drive them, Falena would take her bike and be on the road to meet Risotto halfway. They’d just discard their rides at the edge of the road, hiding them as well as they could before running off into the nearest open field, or shop, or anything else that caught their attention that day.

It was routine, always the same and always filled with sparks of excitement when Falena picked up the phone in her house’s hallway to call or answer. Even that day, after lunch and rushed homeworks, she attempted to call Risotto to hang out. Yet, she was met with silence, the interminable ringing of a phone that wouldn’t be picked up. Even the next day, she didn’t see him in front of the school, at recess or at the end of the last class. She asked his classmates, but learnt that he wasn’t present that day.

The same happened the day after, and so on until the weekend came. Falena didn’t hear from him at all, no matter how many times she called or waited with her eyes glued to the phone, her parents increasingly worried. Only on monday, she saw him at recess, as his classmates offered their condolences to a stoic Risotto. She approached him, tugging at his sleeve when he wouldn’t give her any attention. He looked at her for a split second, where a thunder of pain flashed in his eyes, and then turned away to ignore her again.

From that day, when Risotto Nero was fourteen and Falena was merely thirteen, at the height of their friendship, they stopped being inseparable. Risotto had any excuse and justification to reject her invitations at first, then he started to simply reject any proposal to hang out. In the end, after weeks and months of attempts, he didn’t even dignify her with words. Along the way, Falena learnt about the tragedy of that fateful day, when Risotto’s cousin lost their life, hit-and-run. The driver was stopped barely a few kilometers away, locked away in no time. But the torment for Falena’s old friend didn’t stop, and he still refused to open up any type of communication with her.

Eventually, they were nothing more than strangers with a past. Risotto grew to be gloomy, silent, even more than he had been before. In the summer separating their next school year, when Falena entered the same high school as him, now in the same building with the older kids, Risotto stood taller and looked meaner. Despite his eyes always being black, only then they really scared her as they were framed by a perpetual frown and surrounded by an unknown aura, as if anything of that lovely friend Falena knew once was long gone.

There was a point in time when she would feel his eyes on her, and the snap of his neck as he turned away would give her the impression she wasn’t just imagining things. Yet, Falena struggled to imagine he was interested in her anymore, the kid she knew was way too loyal and affectionate to turn his back to someone he still wanted at his side. So the months separated soon turned into years, and Falena attempted to fill them with memories with other people around her. She found herself lacking, Risotto was the first peer she could relate to with her personality and interest, and the only ones having genuine interest in each other.

She bit her tongue, though. He didn’t want her as a friend, so she wasn’t his friend anymore. At seventeen years now, Falena could declare everything a simple memory colored by nostalgia. Risotto didn’t reach out, didn’t do anything besides watching her when he assumed she couldn’t notice, and that could continue. Only when he suddenly disappeared for a week straight in the months before his graduation, she spared enough attention to his situation to listen to the rumors around the town. There were talks about a murder, how that kid was no good and they knew, they always knew.

For the first time in years, Falena took her bike and rode to Nero family’s farm. She found Risotto’s parents older, one of his grandfathers gone, and them comforting each other as they welcomed her back after four years. She was informed of everything: how Risotto murdered his cousin’s killer in cold blood, how he left a letter of confession to his family, the trail of his clothes leading to the pigpen. How pigs eat anything you give them. And then the sirens, the police, the questioning, the sky looking gray despite spring being near and the animals rejoicing at the new season. Everything drained, and dulled, no matter how far away Falena would run, uncaring about the dangers of a teenager on a bike in the hectic streets of her town.

It didn’t matter that evening, nothing did. Not her safety, not dinner or homework, not the stressful school year or next year’s final exam. Nothing was important that evening besides the memories, the homesickness of Risotto’s friendship. That evening, and that night, deep into the silence of early morning, Falena let herself mourn a boy she didn’t know anymore.

Finding her way into the underworld was difficult, especially as a woman. Especially without much to count on in terms of brute force or size. Falena, eventually, fell into Passione’s hands, and she obtained a Stand strong enough to be deemed useful in various teams. The problem with Passione and with Polpo, she discovered after the initiation: you could enter a team, officially, only if the leader wanted you to join officially. This spell disaster for Falena, as she wasn’t imposing, or scary, or intimidating. No matter how useful her ability, she would have to sustain herself with the scarce missions given to her when her assistance was requested.

She was about to give up her hope for a stable situation into any group within Passione, when Polpo called her into his lair - she refused to see the space he had for himself as anything but - and informed her she was a prospect for the hitman team. One of the most infamous gangs under Passione’s control. Falena would be content with it, if it wasn’t for the fact she didn’t work a single job with any of the members, never saw them or interacted with them. For all she knew, they were too vile for Passione’s standards.

She couldn’t really refuse, though. Not without getting to know the leader, see what they had to offer to her. Polpo seemed pleased with her agreeable nature, and reported that the boss of the team himself asked to see her. He marveled how the ill-famed Risotto Nero could ask for someone he hadn't personally met before, and Falena felt her heart sink.

Finding herself unable to articulate her surprise, she left the meeting with Polpo without much else to add, only with an address to reach once she was contacted by the team. The call wasn’t too late, she waited in confused suspension for the entire afternoon, then the evening. Only at night, she heard the phone ring and she answered. Eight years were enough to blur the memories, especially when the last ones were filled with regret instead of happiness, so she couldn’t really place the voice. It was deep, but felt like another timbre. At least, she didn’t feel like any cord was struck as she listened to the man on the other end inviting her to the designated place the following night, around the same hour of the call.

Once the phone tuned out and her hand let it drop where it belonged, Falena felt all the tiredness, the headache spreading after the tension. Could she sleep? She hoped so, because the thought of remembering anything of that kid she played with so long ago was annoying, verging on suffocating. It messed with her head for years, the knowledge of the dark thoughts festering inside his head as she simply accepted his distance, the deep solitude he must have suffered in that personal hell, yet he decided to crawl back into her life by his own accord. When she assumed he was dead for years, devoured even.

She didn’t know which emotion she would settle on, if anger, resentment or misery. Eventually, her body picked to cling to the exhaustion to give her a break, and she collapsed into her bed. Luckily, her sleep was mostly empty, and weirdly restful. She woke up barely before midday, enough to eat lunch, and then she traveled to check the place she would have to visit later that night. Just to be sure it wasn’t a setup of any sort, if someone was using her old memories to attract her into a trap.

The day was too fast, but too slow at the same time. Every minute a drag, but if Falena let her eyes drop from the clock on the wall, chunks of hours would fly away without her even feeling it. The sky’s colors shifted, the lively streets under her window started to become empty, the buzz of life far away, into the main avenues. Like a little mouse, Falena slipped away from her own house, locking it behind herself for prevention. Not that it would be useful against anyone with a Stand, but it was an added tick she got from her youth, when she was without protection.

She arrived at the designated place a few minutes before the chosen time, but she could see a group of men already occupying the abandoned building. She resisted the urge to summon her Stand, as a preventive measure, and let those inside know she arrived by knocking on the decrepit window. A few heads shot up, in her direction, but only the blonde one whipped it to invite her inside.

There were, in total, three men. All looked relatively scrawny to be professional assassins, but Falena knew better than to judge Passione’s members by their looks alone. After all, it would be hypocritical of her, being rather fragile looking in spite of the power she could conjure. A quick scan around the room alerted her Risotto wasn’t anywhere, not where she could see him. Her eyes narrowed, and she glared at the three men casually standing in front of her, quite a few feet into the room.

“You’re the new recruit?” Falena recognized the voice of the blonde man as the one she spoke to on the phone, deep and cold, carrying pride. She nodded, but refused to take another step towards them. If she could prevent any Stand attack that was dictated by distance, she wanted to be ready. The man clicked his tongue, talked to the darkness, “You’re the only one who can confirm this, come out.”

Before Falena could even think about the strange behavior, something shifted at the perimeter of her vision. A form, towering, walked out of the shadows, but without being engulfed in them. She turned her head with deliberate slowness so that she wouldn’t look suspicious to those men. She felt her throat tighten.

At last, tall and broad, the gloom dripping from his expression. Terrible in a way she didn’t remember, her mind coming back to a child, forgetting the stranger he became over the years. Yet, she could recognize Risotto and his piercing eyes anywhere, looking at her with familiarity he didn’t intend. He spared her a glance, then addressed the other men, “It’s her.”

There was no initiation, no questioning, nothing that she would expect from any self-respecting and highly selective gang. She was just directed to a car and squeezed between the blonde guy and the one with a shaved head. Risotto, because of his size, was allowed the front seat in complete comfort. The one with the glasses was driving, and he was the only one who didn’t utter a single word the entire night.

Once they arrived, Falena discovered the destination was what she supposed was their hideout. She turned up your nose when she noticed how exposed and, at the same time, crumbling the place was. She entered anyway, following the three men up the silent stairs and into the only used apartment in the entire building. And that was all, as Risotto retired with no objection from his men.

Falena was left baffled, unsure how to proceed. She turned to look at the blonde man, the only one who seemed to have any sort of authority besides Risotto. He raised an eyebrow when he noticed her staring, but didn’t say anything until she spoke up about the strange behavior. Wouldn’t they test her in any way, shape or form to see if she was worthy of both trust and praise? Their line of work was pretty difficult to enter in, after all.

“He said we could trust you.” That was all he said, before giving a brief nod to his teammates and disappearing down the hall attached to the main room. The man with glasses followed him, not saying anything, his face as sour as when Falena first saw him. The only one left behind was the redhead, and she would feel uncomfortable with his presence if it wasn’t for the fact she knew she could hold her own.

“So, do you know the boss?” The man asked, pointing at the hallway when Falena glared at him, perplexed. He was inquiring about Risotto, it seemed, and she didn’t know how to answer without revealing too much or something her former friend didn’t want to disclose. The assassin, however, refused to take the hint at her silence, “We know he doesn’t trust easily and no one untrustworthy is accepted into this team. He was pretty vague when I asked.”

Falena weighed the question in her mind, letting it travel all around, elaborating anything that could be useful to give this man something that wouldn’t trouble Risotto. She grimaced a bit at the thought, at how she apparently still cared about his opinion, but quickly rationalized it with the excuse of work, and his new role as her boss - and his infamy as a dangerous hitman. She didn’t turn to the man, but answered anyway, “We met once, a long time ago.”

“For real?” He sounded rather surprised, and whipped his head in the direction of what Falena assumed was the bedrooms’ location. He was thinking, it was clear on his face, eyes raised to the roof as if he was trying to remember. Evidently, he came back with nothing and just decided to further question her, “How long ago? I don’t recall him telling us about any mission with someone outside the gang.”

“It wasn’t a mission,” Falena answered right away, not bothering with overthinking this time. She was tired already, with the tension of the day and the weirdness of the encounter. She could see, out of the corner of her eye, the sleazy grin spreading over the man’s face. It was a promise of nothing good, so she prevented any type of joke or quip, “Do I have a room or am I supposed to take the couch?”

He looked surprised, once again. He took a moment before declaring he wasn’t told anything about a room, so Falena took the opportunity to urge him out of the main room, where she would spend the night as she didn’t intend on knocking on every door to see where she would sleep. He gave some basis for a complaint, but she ignored him long enough that he sighed, exasperated, and walked away. Deep in the house, where the other went.

Falena was left alone in an unknown location, in the dark and with strange men a few steps away. She should feel insecure, in danger, on the verge of a problem. Yet, she felt strangely comfortable in that room, with the implicit declaration of trust by someone she thought started to dislike her. Even then, sleep came late, awake on one of the sofas until exhaustion took over and she dived into a soundless sleep.

When she woke up, she heard chatter and noise coming from the door that connected the main room to the kitchen. She sat up, but didn’t walk there as she waited for the team to come over so she could be initiated properly into the gang. It was a few minutes until someone peeked into the room, looked at her curiously and went back to warn his boss that the new recruit was awake. Risotto came in shortly after, six other men following close behind.

The introduction was quick, painless. Those were Falena’s new teammates, they were specialized in assassination and each of them had their modus operandi. Knowing their Stands was out of the question, not until they would work together, but she knew this already as she avoided manifesting her own Stand before any mission with any team. In the end, nothing more was done than stating names and a brief explanation of the way this specific gang operated. At the end of his speech, Risotto requested to be left alone with Falena as his subordinates walked out of the room, into their own.

She stayed still, still sitting down, but with Risotto across the little table on an armchair. He didn’t speak as soon as they were alone, but let the silence drag a bit longer. Falena didn’t know what he was hoping to gain from this as she gave up understanding his train of thoughts long ago, when it started to deviate from his usual patterns. She simply waited for him to let her know what else was to understand about her new job.

“You have a room assigned,” he pointed out, eyes fixed on her. She straightened up, her face taking a more solemn and serious hue, which made Risotto’s face shift lightly in something that looked like strain. She claimed she didn’t know that, and Risotto hummed with his deep voice, in acknowledgment, before speaking, “I suggest a bit more caution. It can be dangerous to be in such a vulnerable position out in the open.”

Falena was taken aback, unsure how to interpret his words. She searched his face for any sign of a threat, but Risotto simply cocked his head to the side in the direction of the hallway. Where the rest of the team was. Falena frowned, “Control your men, then.”

Risotto’s eyes narrowed and he leaned in, just as Falena’s stance relaxed into the backrest of the sofa. He checked for every movement and every minute change on her face, “I didn’t mean it…”

He cut himself off, averted his eyes, and for a second Falena saw the same kid she enjoyed spending her afternoons with. When his gaze returned, though, it was frigid and stern. As if everything that could link them together was long gone, the only true part of that man in front of her was truly dead as she assumed all those years. If Risotto was aware of any of her thoughts, he didn’t show it, “They’re just on edge. We had very recent casualties in our team.”

Falena kept silent at that, looking away. She didn’t know how close this team was as they seemed to keep their distance not only from her, but from each other as well. Sure, it was early to judge their dynamics fully, but she felt an odd sense of coldness from all of them. On the other hand, they were professional assassins, and she was sure attachment was hard to come by in their line of work.

“We have a plan,” Risotto’s voice came from the stillness, and Falena didn’t know if he watched her the entire time as they kept quiet. She turned to face him once again, didn’t know what to answer to his declaration and didn’t know how to react to the odd light in his eyes. Risotto, however, pressed on, “The boss wanted their deaths. We don’t intend to keep our heads low.”

There was a clear intent in those words, a threat, the beginning of a war. Falena considered the options presented in front of her: Risotto, in the flesh, confessing to thoughts of rebellion against of the most powerful men in Italy while being a notorious name in the world they inhabited himself; the boss, distant and unknown, more akin to a myth than an actual person, as if an entity that overlooked their actions. Falena was practical, in these matters, and fighting against a concrete adversary felt scarier than what she came to know as the boss, a mere concept in her head.

“Alright,” she said plainly and with as little inclinations as she possibly could. Neutrality seemed impossible to maintain in that situation, but she could attempt to stay professional about the entire ordeal. After all, when she accepted to meet Risotto after Polpo’s notice, she swore her loyalty to that same man. Risotto didn’t look surprised, but there was an odd sense of relief washing over him; it was quickly thrown away as soon as Falena spoke, “I don’t intend to be an obstacle. God knows it won’t be a good idea, with you.”

A few tense seconds ticked away, punctuated by the echoing sound of the clock somewhere in the room. Risotto was still, almost lifeless, but glared at her intensely. Somehow, the edges of his face steeled even more, looked sharper than the second before. Falena didn’t even have the time to ask what was wrong that he stood up, storming off the room with enough weight in his steps to warn about something, but with enough apathy to feel like it was an illusion dictated by her bias.

They didn’t speak, alone, the following days. Risotto didn’t address her at all, as busy as he was with picking up the pieces of his team. Falena could see how the tragedy that hit them was deeply felt, as if a physical injury over their skin. The men were suspicious, jumpy, and didn’t take well the intromission of a new member into their private space. After all, they were fighting among themselves already, tension too high, so the newcomer would hardly feel at ease in this group dynamic.

Falena, however, tried her best to fit into the team. At first it was a matter of practical need, as she would have to share her life with these people for as long as they kept her with them; soon enough, she was simply tired of seeing them fight and bicker. Summon their own Stands against each other, arguing about pairs for missions, insulting each other with the most hurtful insecurities they could dig up. It was heartbreaking, and annoying, so she would quickly step in to quiet the spirits.

At first, she could see they hated it. That they wanted to remove her from the premises and force her to stay away from their own problems. Eventually, they came to accept the occurrences and simply roll their eyes. Enough months passed, and they dragged her themselves into their quarrels to resolve them or give her opinion. Falena could even start to see what she assumed were the hints of their old relationships coming to light after the dark moment.

She wasn’t a full piece of the puzzle yet, but she was getting shaped to fit the rest with time. The only bump in the road seemed to be her relationship with Risotto, ever tense and icy. She could notice the attempts he made, after the initial diffidence, in talking and slipping into conversations she was in. Yet, Falena couldn’t help to shift in professional formality when her new boss talked to her, which evidently set Risotto on edge. She could feel the disappointment, in the way his eyes and his voice darkened.

It made her chest hurt, for different reasons all mixing together. In a way, she still cared for him and his presence just made the affection grow, but at the same time she was wounded by how well she could read him, still. While their teammates were obviously uncomfortable during their interactions, sinking into silence, but they couldn’t place the exact reason for their strained interactions.

Falena had no idea how to react to his frustration. It was as if he was begging, without words, for her to talk to him without baggage, without history behind them. She would do that if it didn’t shake her core when she thought about the abandonment, all those years ago. She was convinced her friend disappeared the day she accepted he didn’t care about her anymore, so it was hard to wrap her head around the concept he may want to rekindle their relationship.

Despite everything, she remained loyal, she was ready to serve her boss as the subordinate she swore to be. And Risotto would provide her with the attention of a leader who appreciated his team, sewing her injuries shut with Metallica or offering his support during missions as she was still learning the way the others worked. It didn’t matter, though, if other combinations of Stands would sync with her own, the chemistry with Risotto held strong and deep. He was ever quiet, but it was like his body language never changed since they were children. Every twitch was like a word, a simple look was a complete talk.

It made their pair perfect, and Falena allowed that old complicity to move her body and her mind as missions would get completed, then their side jobs as they attempted to gain information on the don were carried behind closed doors. Somehow, that sharing of a secret would let her relax, as if nothing changed, and in a moment all the worry about keeping Risotto far away from herself was discarded to allow both of them the peace of forgetting.

Her former friend, on his end, seemed to pick up her relaxed attitude, and often attempted to sneak beyond her defences to converse, talk about topics that didn’t matter, mundane and boring. Falena would entertain it until her mind would recuperate and return to her vigilant state, distant and professional, setting Risotto on edge. And with each passing day, he seemed closer to snap. It was inevitable that everything would have to come to an end, sooner or later.

“Falena,” his voice was as deep, as intimidating as ever. It felt like a threat, her mere name, but she acknowledged his call because she knew she couldn’t let anyone see weaknesses in their line of work. Risotto didn’t let the silence hang over their heads for long, “I need to know why you’re so standoffish with me.”

Falena felt the need to roll her eyes at the statement, not even posed as a question. Always so ready to declare, never ready to back down on anything. Unluckily for him, she could be as blunt as him, “You know why. This is a professional relationship.”

“I know you picked up that we are more than teammates here,” Risotto was quick in retorting, pointing out the obvious. Their team was close-knit, oddly enough; you would never expect a group of assassins to form bonds that strong. Yet, Falena refused to speak up, while Risotto was surprisingly eager to talk, “We require close relationships, even.”

Her fingers twitched, and she was close to raising her hand to pitch the bridge of her nose after weeks, months of frustrating attempts at keeping him away from her. Her chest felt heavy with the strain of not yelling, “Boss, you know better than me what prevents me from trusting you with…”

Falena bit her lower lip, the words struggling to come out, and Risotto followed the movement without uttering a single word. His jaw was clenched, and he looked like he stopped breathing with anticipation and dread. His eyes, however, held all the steel, the impervious flame he usually carried. She felt compelled to complete her thought, “With a personal relationship.”

Risotto was still, for a moment, before back down onto his usual armchair. He slumped on the soft pillow below, but didn’t allow himself to release the tension in his muscles. He raised his eyes to Falena, and when she didn’t seem to move an inch, invited her to sit down. She did so, if only to resolve the conflict as soon as she could, and waited patiently as Risotto collected his thoughts. She knew that face, and she was sure he was just trying to weigh his words.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” his voice finally came, lacking the dangerous edge he usually showed. She could feel he was focusing on sounding less imposing, more inviting, but that made her stiffen even more. She didn’t know how to confront the thought of his point of view, a perspective she gave up on learning so long ago. But Risotto didn’t care about those feelings, he didn’t know them, he just explained away, “I cared about you, even after everything.”

“Listen, Risotto,” she attempted to appeal to his softer side, whatever was still there of a far away child that could still sympathize with her and respect her choice. She sighed when Risotto raised his averted eyes, but continued anyway, “You don’t have to justify yourself, I don’t care. That’s water under the bridge and I want to respect your wish to distance yourself.”

She was cut off by his head shaking, slowly, his eyes piercing. He frowned with each word coming out her mouth, another wrinkle marking his forehead and the skin around his eyes. Falena stopped to look at him, take in what he was showing, and waited what felt like hours before he decided to speak up, “I didn’t want that. I just had these thoughts and I was afraid…”

He averted his eyes again, and kept silent for a while. She felt like he was torturing himself over something, as if he wanted to get something out, a weight over his stomach. Falena was about to spur him on when he took the initiative himself, “Even you confirmed it, you are afraid of me hurting you. I wanted that man dead like nothing else before, but I was afraid I would direct all that rage in the wrong direction.”

And then everything came down as a stream of consciousness. About how he had those violent urges towards his cousin’s assassin, how the bitter hatred brewed and ate away at his restraints, how seeing her would soothe him until he started to fear hurting her, his family, his peers. All culminated to the murder, and the decision to leave everything behind until he found someone like-minded, someone who could defeat themself if he lost control. Falena, along the way, attempted to snap him out of his rant, but he only succeeded in calming him down once everything came out.

She was speechless. Risotto Nero, the feared hitman, just let himself open up to a woman who was a near stranger to him, after years of nothing between them. She wanted to consider him a fool, but her chest fluttered at the display of trust. She approached, sat down on one of the armrests, and let herself drape over his shoulders in an awkward, yet heartfelt embrace.

“Did you plan on torturing yourself for eternity if we didn’t meet again?” she teased, once he felt stable enough with the reading of his microexpressions. Risotto sighed, didn’t answer, but buried himself into the backrest of the armchair, looking smaller than he really was. Vulnerable, as if he was exhausted. Falena simply asked if he wanted to be alone, and he shook his head.

That evening, with the help of solitude, they shared their lives. Years lost and time thrown away, they talked for hours until the moon was shining up in the sky and the clock on the wall reached single digits. It was comforting, but odd, talking to someone she felt she didn’t know anymore. And Risotto was struggling to fish around for his old self, after years of his perception wrapped up by the harshness of criminal life.

Like old scars that reopened, it all felt raw and real, glowing pink like the meat under their skin. The attempts to ignore her own attachment failed miserably, as she felt all the memories crawl to settle in the front of her mind. When the confessions, and the stories they didn’t know stopped, it was the moment to dust the old times when they could still laugh, smile and run around the farm, or the fields, or the street. When their parents would drive them and they would look for each other during recess, when they joined school projects together to be paired and decided to slack off like the children they were.

It was as if time stopped, rewinded even, and Falena could almost feel herself float into the emptiness of early morning. Even the ever buzzing Naples fell into a murmur, then a silence, and Risotto was her companion in those hours. As if reality wasn’t ready to start, suspended, their words became sparse and rare, eventually stopping. Finding out that she didn’t mind the silence was relieving because it made her realize all that anxiety, those doubts all those years ago evaporated with the help of minimal effort. Everything with Risotto has always been nothing difficult, when they decided to collaborate towards a similar goal.

Once the night dissolved and they chose to end their talk to catch the few hours of sleep they could, the day went on as usual. Risotto was the usual leader, cold and detached, ready to give orders to take out any man or woman he was assigned. Falena kept her distance, talked to her teammates, bonded and continued her missions as if nothing had happened. Then, at night, they would find themselves talking, converse, as old friends. Each night was filled with idle chatter and intervals made of silence, never heavy like before.

It became a routine, the sweetest moment of the day. When they couldn’t meet at night because of a job or other matters, the following night was filled with even more words, for longer hours. They never stayed up too long, as hitmen they had to be lucid and awake at every moment. Criminal life didn’t allow any down time, even when you were in a hideout, at home or away from the site of your business.

And talking about business, Risotto was agile in managing their research despite their continued work under the boss. He picked the lead that scared him so much, the one left behind by his former associates, and gave each member something to research. The personal guards of the boss himself, the closest men to him, even his Consigliere. It was tense most of the time, the knowledge of toeing the line into betrayal, so close to the role of traitors. Falena was aware her Stand was useful for missions where disabling a target was needed, but searching for information wasn’t her speciality and she was nervous to participate in those missions too much.

This wasn’t a simple project though, she didn’t work in an office or in a shop, she wasn’t a simple teacher or a nurse. She was a criminal, a mobster at that, one of the most hated categories in all Italy by those who point to them as the ruin of a nation. Her colleagues weren’t prone to accept her excuses, she was one of them now, and she needed to accept her newfound loyalty to the team. She didn’t know Sorbet or Gelato - she came to know the names and the lives of the fallen members - and yet she found herself into the revenge plan of seven deadly assassins on a suicidal mission to take down one of the most dangerous bosses in Italy.

As one would expect from men who were recently wronged, they didn’t want to leave this type of matters to chance. Falena was often accompanied by one of them when assigned to one of those missions, between jobs and when she was free. Coincidentally, her companion was often Risotto himself because they were so often paired in a hit that they were available at the same time. This opened the way to new ways to know him, on passion projects if one could call them that.

Risotto was focused, sharp like a hawk, when out in the field. But when he was out for blood, based on his own feelings and emotions, it was carnage. He didn’t care about the mess, if someone was to stand between him and his goal they would meet a gorey demise - and it was a relief for them, because who would want to deal with the possibility to be alive after what Risotto could do. Falena would have been scared if she wasn’t used to the blood and the violence of that life.

It was almost fascinating seeing Risotto like that, so down into the role of a grim reaper out to take the lives of those on his list. Yet, she could see the surprise each time he remembered she was there at his side, the uneasiness and the odd embarrassment of the moment. Falena couldn’t understand, and she wanted to know what was the reason for him to hide before her sight.

On one of those investigations to gather any type of information, months after her first initiation, she had the nerve to question his actions. Risotto kept his mouth shut tight, and he rushed her to finish what she was doing. Nothing of value was found that day, but Falena suspected the location they searched wasn’t as useful as they first thought when they arrived. That didn’t matter as much as the disappointment in seeing Risotto closing off in front of her, refusing the talk.

Even that night, when they were at the hideout and met when everyone else was asleep, he was hesitant to answer her questions. Why would he feel the need to hide himself? Did he remember anything she told him, how she was accustomed to the way of assassins and gangsters? Risotto kept silent, let her go on and on about how she wanted his honesty and she wouldn’t judge him just like she didn’t when she was first introduced into the team.

Risotto left the meeting without opening up, without a word said, and Falena was left with an icy feeling rolling off her skin. The next evening, despite their tradition, she didn’t get out of her room to meet him. Risotto looked her over in the morning, something shining in his eyes, but she avoided his gaze because she didn’t feel the need to explain her absence. Their routine of the previous months was broken, and Falena didn’t come out to talk to Risotto for the following nights. And she was aware he was waiting for her, considering she would come out to go to the bathroom, see him there with his eyes fixed on her with something akin to hope, which shriveled as soon as she returned to her own room.

Risotto was growing tense again, she could tell. He would steal glances now and again, sit close to her but wouldn’t approach her to talk. Each evening, he would wait, and she would feel a bit more guilty with the way he frowned at her avoidance. Falena didn’t have any problem speaking to him during the day, but she assumed he didn’t want to talk about what she asked and the questions would eat away at any attempt to start another conversation. So she opted to continue their relationship during the day, but Risotto was rigid and stiff when his men were around.

Eventually, it got so much that Falena couldn’t bear the weight of the newfound silence. She stood up from her bed, one night, and opened the door to the narrow hallway into the main room. There, Risotto was slowly dozing off from the attempt to wait for her; eyelids heaving, the dark lines of his bags, the deep breaths, all brought Falena to approach the man on the sofa as he was nearing the line of sleep. She kneeled down, looked him in the eyes, but he was far gone enough that he didn’t react to her sudden presence - maybe in the shadows of his eyelashes, she appeared as a faceless figure and not like herself.

She called for him, and it seemed that Risotto was about to wake up, but it was a fleeting second. His eyes narrowed again as soon as they slightly widened, he let out a heavy breath and waited in the stillness of the room. Falena asked him if he could hear her, just as his eyes were sluggishly closing, but he let out an affirmative grunt. She asked if he knew who he was speaking to, and he just let out another sound that could only mean he didn’t really care at that moment.

Then she asked why he was so reserved around her, around his childhood friend, found again after years. Risotto fell silent, and so still she couldn’t even see his chest rise and fall with his breath. She assumed nothing would come out of it, so she simply settled to sit down on the floor and idly talk to him, before she heard him speak with drowsy words. His voice rasped with sleepiness, but she could make out the general idea: he was afraid of her hating him, of tainting that good memory of him when he was an innocent kid.

When he was a child, he was nervous and shy as well, always the outcast. And then he dragged his own reputation down with moodiness, dark thoughts and viciousness. It was like poison, but the kind that won’t kill you because you build an immunity, even if you can’t help spreading it to the rest of your surroundings. Risotto wanted a part of his life being immaculate, in someone’s mind, and he wanted the person he cared about to treasure that long gone sparkle of innocence.

Falena was taken aback, but leaned in to tell him she didn’t care about his occupation or his past. Yet, Risotto frowned - maybe at the effort to understand what she was saying while he was falling asleep - and he continued to say he didn’t want that, he wanted her to love him for what he could have been so that she wouldn’t have to settle for whatever he had become. Falena felt her heart shatter when his voice cracked, so she raised her hand to caress the side of his face with the tip of her fingers.

Risotto’s eyes opened up, and she could see the confusion at the sudden gesture. Slowly, focus returned to his gaze and he was getting visibly more awake, taking in her form and then her hand so close to his face, and the room filled with darkness and the noisy clock punctuating each single second passing. They stayed frozen for a moment, then Risotto pushed himself up and sat on the sofa, with Falena still on the floor in front of him.

Few awkward, tense seconds passed. Then they stretched into minutes, until Falena planted her feet on the ground and stood up just to carefully sit down at Risotto’s side. He followed each minute movement, his eyes darting at the smallest of sounds, until he was looking down at her from his height. Falena kept her head up, didn’t let his size intimidate her, and she let her words out without too much thought or care.

She was aware it was a problem, this was her boss and she knew just what he was able to do. But his words, everything leading to this little moment, was enough to build up her courage and allow her to fall back into old patterns. That way, she was able to admit how much she missed the Risotto Nero who would give her half-true facts about his animals before his father would step in to correct him; the Risotto Nero who wouldn’t allow her to jump puddles and complain when she would splash him as she disregarded his words; or the Risotto Nero who waited crouching down as she got out of school because he knew she was talking to someone before returning home.

Risotto didn’t shrink physically at her recollections, but she could observe the tension in his muscles at each word coming out of her mouth. It wasn’t strain caused by anger or hatred, nothing similar to what he was carrying day after day to survive the life he chose, but it was the stress of anxiety. It pained her, that weight over his shoulders, but the calm on his face as if he was getting ready to digest something he wanted to get over it, quick, not painless yet needed.

Falena sighed, and the sound dragged a little even after she was done, but she needed to complete her train of thoughts, if only to ease him up and allow themselves to rest. So she spoke up again, about how that kid and the little girl right at his side were long gone, they grew up and they returned to each other as new people. That if she was the same person she had been all those years ago, it would be impossible to stand besides him like she was doing in that moment. Destiny was funny like that, as if it was aware they wanted nothing more than to get that closure and that new beginning, that could be given only with their new lives.

Risotto kept silent, his eyes low after her words, still tense as steel in the silence that followed. Falena wondered if she should say more, explain more about her thoughts, and she was about to do so before he simply affirmed that it wasn’t right. He didn’t want to believe she would give up something as sweet as that childish innocence for the grime and darkness of the underworld, of the eternal torment of criminal life. Falena wasn’t sure if he was speaking about her or himself, at that point, but she wanted to understand more, and more she asked.

Did he hate her? Did he rethink everything in those nights he was alone, and now she was just an irremediable criminal? At first, Risotto didn’t even raise his head, but she could see his eyes narrow after each passing second, until it was like a revelation of her words hit him and he glared at her with surprise and fury mixing dangerously. Falena didn’t want to back down in that moment, in those circumstances, as she wanted clarity once and for all. She needed it after years in the dark, she wanted to cultivate something with the right tools and Risotto would have to collaborate if he wanted a part in it.

And after a few quiet minutes, where he attempted to gauge something from her or communicate without speaking, he groaned at the stillness between them. There it was, the answer, he didn’t hate her and never did. He harbored nothing, but affection for her since they were children and that wouldn’t change that easily. So Falena affirmed that she cared about him, she liked that child that she knew so long ago, but she came to love the man who trusted her after years, who opened up to something that she would lock away with her until her last breath.

Risotto froze, at those words. The weight of those different sentiments, of liking his past and loving his present, giving him pause. He looked like he was pondering those words, but then he turned his head to the other side, hiding his gaze from her own. She didn’t see the flashes of hope, or the hints of disappointment, or the undertones made of confusion, but she felt the ease in his muscles when she rested her hand on his shoulder. His skin was warm, he was covered from head to toe as always, but the avoidance made him look more vulnerable than if she was staring right at his face.

The angle didn’t allow for much, but Falena reached out after swinging a leg under her body and kneeling on the sofa. She let a hand touch his neck, pressed his lips to the side of his jaw that was still exposed to her, and felt the silent hitch of his breath under her fingertips. There was a minute movement of his head, turned just enough to look at her from the corner of his eye, and she looked back at him before leaving another soft kiss on his skin. Her hand travels from his neck to the cheek that’s hidden from her, her other arm sneaking behind his neck to rest on his other shoulder, as support.

Falena applied just a bit of pressure on his face, as encouragement to meet her eyes fully, and her lips leaving his jaw as an incentive. Risotto, after a moment, turned around to stare down at her, his stony face returned to normal as a mask to hide. Falena wasn’t deterred, but she questioned his interest in her actions for him to act that cold towards her. As a token of her trust and respect, she put a distance between them and blinked when he seemed to follow her motion.

She backed down more, until she felt her back against the backrest of the sofa, and Risotto was at the same exact distance as before, looming over her. He frowned when she stopped, mostly because of the obstacle behind her, but he didn’t move to deepen that connection. It was, once again, in her hands, and she wasn’t about to throw away an opportunity in order to teach him a lesson. He asked if she was misunderstanding him or if he caught what she meant, and that was enough to let Risotto snap into action.

From the sheer force he used to kiss her, Falena feared that the couch would flip over and they would be sent flying on the floor, ruining the moment. Luckily, nothing happened but a deep kiss, with Risotto’s hands gripping her sides, her arms, her shoulders with so much fervor and passion she thought she was burning. She took a few seconds to recollect herself, really take in what was happening, that found her arms slipping around his neck to drag him down further.

Their limbs, their entire bodies, tangled tightly for the entire evening, deep into the night, until morning came. When she raised from his bed, at first confused, before he dragged her back to wrestle her into a shirt as she was about to head out of the door. To the bathroom, she assured, but he was already tying the too large piece of clothing around her waist. He let her go only when she rolled her eyes in defeat, jumping out of the bed with the sleeves of the shirt slipping down her arms.

Risotto’s room was bare save for the bed and the desk he used, with piles of papers and clothes variously discarded on the nearby chair. But the window was reflective enough, in the shadows of the neighbor building, that Falena could look at herself in her state. SHe would have to tame that hair, she should find some pants, and return the shirt as soon as possible. Risotto didn’t hint at any intention to stand up, but he was staring at her from the bed, a sour look painted over his face.

Falena decided to fall back down, to sit at the edge of the mattress, turning around to look back at him. Risotto’s eyes trailed up into hers, he kept silent, and she raised an eyebrow. He sighed, catching her nudge for his thoughts, and started to list off the things that bothered him in that moment. He checked the clock, it was late enough that the others would be around the hideout. She would have to wait there until he was out, so she could slip out silently and without raising suspicions. She grinned when his seemingly orders lowered into mumbles, about how she could keep the shirt on, if she wanted. Maybe they wouldn’t notice anyway.

She snaked deeper into the bed, and draped herself across his chest with that same satisfied grin. He didn’t seem to appreciate it until she asked if being sincere wasn’t better, to which he frowned a bit more, before his face bloomed into a little smile, his dimples showing. Falena was simply happy to be able to lay down the foundations of something new.

#JJBA #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #Risotto Nero #risotto x oc #commission

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effieduan · 3 years

Text

Raiju, I Choose Luce! || Luce & Effie

TIMING: Saturday, May 30, 2021.

LOCATION: Outskirts

PARTIES: @divineluce & @effieduan

SUMMARY: Zap zapp, spark spark, it’s time to light up the diggy diggy dark

The crackle of electricity felt better than the adrenaline of a good run. It hit Effie just as she finished her second mile, about to loop back and run back to where she parked her SUV. She slowed her pace to a walk as she felt the sensation dance under her skin. That wasn’t supposed to happen. Wary, Effie looked up at the powerlines, as if expecting to see one had snapped in two and was going wild. She knew it wasn’t though, the current was coming from somewhere different. She glanced around, pulling her dark red gloves tucked into her belt and shoving her sweaty hands into them. As far as she knew, she was alone, but she wasn’t about to accidentally stop someone's heart because some idiot snuck up on her in the woods.

A flash of tan and electricity caught the corner of her eye as it zipped by. Effie whipped around, eyes squinting to get a better look. Without another thought she tore after whatever it was, going straight into the woods as she followed the flash. What was that? What was that? One thought went through her mind and one thought only. Was that a fox? Was it someone like her? Would she finally meet someone like her? It certainly didn’t feel real, and the small feeling of hope that blossomed in her chest was crushed when she realized she wasn’t as fast as the damn thing. She slowed, huffing slightly at her sprint, dead leaves crunching under her running shoes. Bad idea Effie, she thought to herself, realizing she just went for a full run into the woods after a creature she didn’t know. Foolish. Annoyed with herself, she took one last look around for the creature before she started her trek to where she hoped was the main road.

Of course, it wasn’t. But just as she broke through the trees to see a person she felt the strange electricity again. The little shit of an animal burst through from the other edges of the trees. Effie acted without thinking again when she saw the trajectory of the animal -- which was most certainly not a fox. Effie ran forward, her gloved hands shoving the woman to the ground hard as the animal leapt on her, claws tearing through her running sweatshirt. There was a swell of electricity as Effie lost her balance, falling to the side with a shriek as she toppled over. The large bolt of electricity flew through her, jolting back out to the creature it came from as it ran right back into the woods with a screech.

Clearing away some of the charcoal from the area, Luce opened up her backpack and dug a small hole in the ground with the camp shovel she’d brought along. The metal warmed under her fingers, her flames once more returned to her. But, she didn’t need them now, not for what she was doing now. She didn’t need to prove herself to anyone, not to herself. But she still wanted to fix the wrongs that had been done against this town. The phoenix hadn’t meant to burn down these bits of the forest, but the damage was done. And they’d wanted to leave before anything could be traced back to them-- Luce knew what that fear was like. She couldn’t begrudge them a quick and quiet exit from town. Which is why she was alone now, digging small holes in the burned earth, dropping some assorted seeds in, and tamping the ground with a sprinkle of water. She’d never considered herself to be the nature loving sort, but it felt good to do this. She’d already seen what good could come of a little effort, a little care. She could come to like this.

Or maybe fucking not, Luce thought as she felt hands shove into her back and sent her tumbling to the ground, the shovel slipping out of her hands. She instinctively cradled her bandaged arm to her chest, dipping her head slightly so she tucked and rolled into the dirt. It didn’t stop a puff of charcoal and ash exploding in her face as she fell at the edge of the burnt clearing. Sputtering and coughing, Luce rolled onto her back and stared at the woman who’d just shoved her, “What the fuck is your--” But then she saw the familiar shape of an animal darting around. Oh. Oh no, that was a fucking Raiju. “Hey watch out!” Luce yelled, but it was too late as she watched the crackling creature barrel straight into the woman. Even from here, she could smell the scent of ozone as contact was made and the woman had a bolt of electricity coursing through her. Jesus christ. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. She was out in the middle of the nowhere, with a shovel, and a soon-to-be-dead body. Fuck this wasn’t going to look good.

Her sweatshirt was smoking. Effie swore loudly as she rolled onto her stomach, hurriedly pushing herself up to her knees as she whipped off her sweatshirt and chucked it away from her before it could catch on fire. She was lightning proof, not fireproof. The sweatshirt landed a few feet away from her as she slumped backward onto her ass with a low groan. Ouch. It wasn’t the electricity that hurt her, of course. The feeling of the current had sparked an excitement that should make her feel ashamed, but with the adrenaline pounding in her ears, there wasn’t enough energy left for her to feel much else. Effie was examining her tanktop, pulling at the charred fabric with a frown, when she remembered she wasn’t alone.

The other woman’s watch out had come far too late. The creature's current connected with hers far before that, and there was no way it was going to miss. Not that Effie wanted it to, considering she didn’t exactly want the woman to be fried. Effie looked over at the woman she shoved to the ground. “Sorry,” she said. “For pushing you.” She looked back down to her tanktop and had the realization that she was probably supposed to be hurt. “Um. Ow. That hurt,” she said lamely.

What Luce expected to see was the crumpled, newly fried form of a lady on the ground. Or maybe, if she was lucky, a lady rolling around in the dirt in agony. That was a fucking Raiju after all, and after the run in she’d had with one nearly year ago… she didn’t expect a shock from one of the creatures to be something a person could just shrug off. She fully expected to have to drag this lady to the hospital at best and at worst… put her shovel to good used. Needless to say, Luce did not expect to see the woman whip off her smoking sweatshirt with a swear as it burst into flames. On instinct, Luce’s fingers twitched at her side and she snuffed out the embers that had began to catch and flare against the fabric. It was still foreign to her, to have her magic back, but she greeted the sensation like she would an old friend. It was still here, still recognized her.

Turning her attention back to the woman, Luce frowned, the healing cut over her eye twinging slightly. “Ow that hurt?” She echoed, gesturing to the sweatshirt on the ground, still lightly smoking. Glancing around, she kept an eye out for the Raiju, but it had seemed just as startled as Luce when the woman hadn’t eaten shit and died in the dirt. “You’re magic, aren’t you? Lightning magic?” She asked, barely able to hold back her curiosity. Another lightning spellcaster, and someone she didn’t recognize from the coven? Who was this woman?

“... Yes, that hurt,” Effie said. “Ow. It still hurts.” She was never going to be an actor, but even Effie had to admit she was doing a pretty pathetic job. What was she supposed to say to that? You’re magic, aren’t you? Lightning magic? Startled, Effie looked at the woman with wide eyes. “Uh --” that she hadn’t expected at all. Magic? Magic? Effie knew there were things other than huxian that existed, she wasn’t an idiot to assume only humans and huxian roamed the earth. She knew fae were a thing, her grandmother told her stories about trickery and deceit and, maybe, a little bit of mischief. Effie didn’t think lightning magic fell into the fae, though. Witches, then. Cautiously, she approached her smoking sweatshirt, plucking it off the ground between her thumb and forefinger. “Um. Let’s go with that, then.” Effie said. “Are you alright?”

As the woman tried to insist that it hurt, Luce rolled her eyes. “You could try to sell it a little better, Jesus. That little fucker just set your clothes on fire and you’re going with ‘ow’?” She shook her head. When she was asked about the lightning magic though, the expression on her face wasn’t surprise or guilt or anything like that. It was just more confusion. Which wasn’t the typical reaction when someone who’d been caught in a lie would usually make. She would know. “Let’s go with that? Christ, so you’re not magic?” She asked, resting her free hand on her hip, shovel still in the other hand. “You just got zapped by a fucking rabid magic dog-wolf thing and you expect me to believe that?” Luce said before frowning. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve had worse than random ladies in the woods pushing me into the dirt.”

Effie scowled. “Ouch,” she said sarcastically. She was examining the zipper on her hoodie now, frowning at how melted together it was. Maybe she could take it to the cleaners… And what would the cleaners say when they saw the scorch marks on the fabric? She let out a sigh, and instead folded the fabric neatly over her arm. It was easier not to look at the other woman while she was being interrogated. “You can believe whatever you would like,” Effie said finally. As long as nothing about Zappy the Human Pikachu came out of her mouth, she didn’t particularly care. “Good. I am sorry, though. For shoving you like that.”

Running through the list of different people she’d encountered in town, Luce studied the woman for a long moment. It was daylight, so vampire was out. Werewolves didn’t come in a lightning proof variety as far as she could tell, and neither did the Fae, though she didn’t claim to be experts on either groups. Witches, yes, but that didn’t seem right judging the reaction. A zombie? “You’ve got a heartbeat, don’t you?” She asked, casting a critical gaze. “You’re good. It’s better than getting shocked by lightning. Don’t really want to deal with the hospital bills from that shit again.” As the woman continued to avoid her gaze, Luce held out a hand. “I’m Luce. Thanks for the save there.”

So what? Was the woman -- Luce -- playing guessing games now? What the hell didn’t have a heartbeat? “Does it matter?” Effie asked. She glanced down at Luce’s outstretched hand warily. Handshakes were not her favorite thing, even when she was wearing her gloves. Most people didn’t like touching rubber, and if she were being honest, she would prefer if people were more than an arm's length away from her at all times anyway. Apparently, Luce had been struck by lightning before -- maybe even by the creature that just tried to bodyslam her. Slowly, she shook her hand. “Effie. You’re welcome. Do you know what that thing was?”

“It can.” Luce replied with a shrug before glancing down at the woman’s outstretched arm. Huh. Rubber gloves? As she shook her hand, Luce resisted the urge to grimace at the way the material felt against her skin. Gross. And it was too thick for her to get an idea of the temperature of the other woman either. So much for that idea. “Germaphobe?” She asked conversationally, resting the camp shovel on her shoulder as she continued to try and figure out just what this lady was. Currently, lightning witch was her best option, but even Luce didn’t think that an accomplished lightning spellcaster could just shrug off a tackle from an enraged Raiju. “Sure do. Why do you want to know?” She asked, game to continue this back and forth.

“Skin condition,” Effie replied automatically. “Can’t have it exposed to the air or it’ll get pretty nasty.” That lie was one she had told so many times that it came naturally. “Though, I like to think that they help me from getting sick too often.” She frowned at the answer she got about the creature though, and Effie let out a light sigh. “I’ve never seen anything like it before,” she said. “Was out for a jog when I saw it running and was curious.” Effie considered a moment before looking around. “You wouldn’t happen to know where the main road is do you?”

A skin condition. A likely story. But, the lie came quickly and easily, so it seemed whatever Effie’s deal was had been around for a while. “Fun times.” Luce replied, still eyeing the woman with interest. What was her deal? “This is a good place for a run, lots of good trails. And yeah. Those things.” She said, tilting her head in the direction where the Raiju had run off. She’d only run into one before, but it had been enough to pique her interest and do some digging. Jared had had one on his farm, before he’d left town. She’d never had the chance to ask him about it, though. Maybe she should have. “Main road?” About a quarter mile east, but Luce squinted around the woods blankly before throwing up her hands. “Who knows?”

And so it seemed Luce was going to be increasingly unhelpful. Effie let out a low sigh, before patting the pockets of her joggers to pull out her phone. “I’ll guess I'll try my luck out going back the way I came, then,” she said. Most of her gloves were customized so she could easily use touch screens, considering her profession it was needed. “I'll get out of your hair and you can…” Effie glanced towards the shovel, for the first time wondering what Luce was actually doing out here. “Go back to doing whatever you're doing.” Effie was curious, but she learned a long time ago that actively not being curious about things that didn't matter was a way to keep people at arms length or farther. She turned away, examining the tree line to see where she had burst out of, and with a sigh, she started back the way she came. “Have a good day then.”

Glancing back down at the seeds in her backpack, the small mounds of tamped down soil that lined the burnt out clearing, Luce shrugged. She’d done enough today. Pressing the button on the side of her shovel, she folded it neatly away into the back of her bag and slipped it onto her shoulders. She’d planted quite a few seeds and she was nearly out of water anyways. “Call me an environmentally concerned citizen.” She said with a slight grin on her face. Yeah. Environmentally concerned, that was definitely what people thought when they first heard of Luce Vural. “You’re going to hit a cliff if you go that way.” Luce called out to the woman as she started off through the woods. She’d hit it in about half a mile, so it would take a minute for that to happen, but still. “You new in town or something?”

Environmentally concerned seemed to be a joke that Effie wasn’t in on. “How green of you,” she said with a shrug. She heard the warning about the cliff and just raised a hand to acknowledge she heard her. “I’ll check out the view,” was all she said. She'd probably stop to rest there anyway, she was more tired than she wanted to admit. Not from the creature attack, but she had pushed it alittle running after it like a madwoman. “I've lived here since I was a teenager, but I don't come to the Outskirts very often.”

“Real green.” Luce agreed conversationally as she trailed after the woman. “Mhm, sounds like fun.” She said, though she didn’t particularly feel like fucking around and letting Effie walk off a cliff. She was still trying to figure out just what this lady was. Zombie wasn’t necessarily out the window, she hadn’t gotten a straight answer on the heartbeat thing. What kind of witch would go around wearing rubber gloves all the time? Unless she was legit with the whole skin condition thing, which Luce highly doubted. “Hm. You go to the high school?” Luce asked, squinting at Effie. She didn’t look familiar, but Luce had never been the most social of people.

“No, I was homeschooled,” Effie said, glancing over her shoulder. She shouldn’t have been surprised that Luce had decided to follow her, she was fairly nosy. Effie didn’t have a good excuse as to why that thunder creature hadn’t affected her, and she didn’t really want to dwell on it longer than she had to. She was tapping her way on her phone with a careful upward glance every couple seconds to make sure she didn’t actually walk off a cliff. Truthfully, she didn’t mind hiking, but she would much rather be in her nonhuman form doing it. She just beat her high score when she felt the current again, and Effie stopped suddenly, head jerking around to figure out where it came from. It was moving and fast. Effie looked to Luce quickly. “The creature’s coming back.” Why? Hadn’t it done enough damage?

Homeschooled. Was she some kind of hunter kid? That didn’t seem right, though Luce had never taken it upon herself to zap Adam. She had no idea if he could just shake off a raiju encounter like Effie had. But, she wasn’t really interested in giving that a shot. “Homeschool, huh? Good for you. You never experienced the epic highs and lows of--” Before she could finish the quip, the woman had stopped abruptly. Blinking, Luce frowned. “What do you mean it’s coming back?” She said, turning to scan the tree line. And then, that’s when she saw it. The creature was running through the woods, fur crackling with electricity as it glared at them from the shadows. “Ah hell…” She muttered, her fingers nervously twitching at her side. She didn’t want to have to put this thing down, and the forest had already suffered enough damage at the hands of fire. She couldn’t in good conscious start another blaze. “Maybe we can outrun it?”

The creature was staring at them. Effie cursed under her breath. “Doubtful,” she muttered back to Luce. Outrun it. Effie might have stood a chance if she wasn’t exhausted from her jog and the panic from earlier. Luce… She seemed fit enough. Problem was neither of them knew how fast the creature actually was. The idea came to her out of nowhere, like it had been sitting on the very edge of her mind waiting to drop in on her. She wouldn’t be able to outrun it in her current form. Her true form however… Effie scowled. It meant revealing more than she wanted too, but it also kept the vulnerable one from being electrocuted. Of the two, Effie preferred the second one more. Effie grit her teeth. “I have an idea,” she said. “You run back behind us -- or, uh, diagonally so you miss the cliff. I’ll run at it. It won’t hurt me.” She eyed the claws on the creature crouching in the shadows. Much, at least.

“Me running away doesn’t sound like a great idea. Remember how you got jump tackled by that thing like… five minutes ago?” Luce said, though she still wasn’t sure what she could realistically do. Her left arm was aching, the bandages rubbing against the burnt skin of her arm. “What are you gonna do?” She asked, but her question was cut short as the raiju let out a snarling bark and cut through the trees towards them. Adrenaline coursed through Luce’s veins, her fight or flight instincts screaming at her to stand her ground and send streams of blue fire towards the creature. But she didn’t. She wouldn’t. Instead, Luce backed away as slowly as she could, trying not to attract the monster’s attention.

As Effie hoped, the thing was more interested in her than it was in Luce. Every micromovement Effie made the creature tracked, and it wasn’t until she moved quickly that the creature lurched forward. Dropping her phone and gloves onto the ground, she did something she hadn’t in a very, very long time. In a second, her paws hit the ground. It took the yellow fox a moment to nudge out of the tangle of clothing, and she took off into a run, bolting into the forest. As Effie suspected, the lighting creature took off after her, leaving Luce alone.

She was free in the forest in this form, Her enhanced senses were comforting as she zipped deeper and deeper into the forest, the electric creature behind her darting around her in some silly game of tag. Pinged between the two, the current running through Effie with free reign. Later, she would think about how dangerous it could have been. Later, she would remind herself of the last time she let herself run in the woods like this. Later, she would remind herself of Zappy and the person she murdered when she was only eight-years-old. For now, though, Effie was free. If only for a little while.

Whatever stunt Luce expected Effie to pull, it sure wasn’t “retreat back into my clothes and whoops, tiny yellow dog time?” She watched in shock as the clothes crumpled to the ground with a surprisingly heavy thud and the creature-- Effie, Luce supposed-- sprinted away. The raiju completely ignored Luce and tore off through the forest, electricity crackling in the air as it ran. Soon, the pair had dissappeared from sight, leaving Luce with a pile of clothes and a whole fuck ton of questions. She made her way over to the clothes left on the ground and shrugged off her backpack. It wouldn’t be great if a random hiker found a pile of clothes out here, the last thing this town needed was rumors of people getting Raptured out in the woods. Securing the woman’s shoes to the back of her bag, she glanced down and noticed Effie’s cell-phone glinting in the dirt. Huh. She’d probably need that too. Pocketting the phone, Luce glanced around the woods again. But, neither the raiju or Effie were anywhere to be found.

With a sigh, Luce shrugged her bag back on her shoulders and began to make the trek back out of the woods. Once she got back into town, she’d look up this lady and see if she could get in contact with her. Hopefully taking her clothes didn’t go against any kind of shifter etiquette. She’d have to ask Ulf about it. Shaking her head, Luce laughed to herself. “That was a tiny fucking werewolf.”

#para #para luce #luce #wickedswriting

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