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spookysanta · 4 years ago

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braided. (c.e.)

Summary: she hates when he’s right, but she hates it even more when he knows he’s right and won’t shut up about it. or, he likes to do her hair more than she does.

Pairing: Husband!Chris Evans x Black!reader

WARNINGS: none

i don’t hate it anymore, thankfully.

UNEDITED

***

“Y’know,” he said as he entered the bedroom they shared from his shower, his waist wrapped in a towel, white steam trailing behind him from the hot bathroom. “I could ask what you’re doing, though I’m not entirely sure I’d like to know.”

“I’m not entirely sure I’d want to tell you.” His wife shrugged without missing a beat. She didn’t want to tell him that she learned a new hair-braiding technique on social media and decided to give it a try, only to stop halfway because her hands began to cramp.

“Well, it seems to me that you started on your hair and got tired.”

“Shut up.”

She hated how he just knew stuff.

And of course, she’d expected him to already have known what she was up to.

She didn’t have to tell him what was happening, because he just knew her. He knew that this would be bound to happen, especially now that she’s home full-time. When she isn’t working, she scours the Internet to find something new to do; today’s activity must’ve been hair related. She knew he would tease her for quitting her hair halfway through (like she usually does); but sometimes, she just loses interest, or her hands cramp up, she can’t help it.

“And here I was, about to offer my services to help. But no, you don’t deserve it since you’ve chosen to be mean to me.” His feet padded across the brown carpet floor over to their dresser to pick out clothes for an interview later in the day. “I was ready and willing to be the helpful husband.”

“Were you?” she retorted.

“Yup.” He discarded the towel around his waist, displaying his chiseled frame for his wife to see just because he could. He dressed himself, putting on a plain black button-up shirt and dark jeans despite the interview being conducted via video conference. “I was. I’d consider myself a nice guy, doll. I’m very helpful when I’m needed.”

He finally carried himself over to her, who was sat on their shared bed with her back against the headboard. He leaned over her tauntingly. “You sure you don’t want help?” he mumbled, lips brushing hers in a way that intimidated her.

“No.” she huffed.

“Fine.” He gave a peck to her bottom lip, standing up straight and heading toward the door. “I’ll be in the dining room if you need me…until then, have fun.”

He winked at her before exiting the room.

Did she mention how much she hated when he was right?

There aren’t many times when he’s just right about things, but when he is…it makes her blood boil. It’s not just that he was right, it’s the gloating that follows.

It makes her want to make him sleep on the porch.

After his interview—which had to have gone well, from the sounds of his infectious laughter coming from downstairs—she sent him a reluctant text.

To Chris:

Okay. Fine. You win. Can you come help me now? My hands hurt.

First, it was quiet. Then, there was a loud cackle that made her hands cramp more.

She heard his footsteps (along with Dodger’s, for obvious reasons) bound up the stairs. He let out a breath as he entered the room, holding back laughter. “You rang?”

She cut her eyes at him, but softened her eyes when Dodger jumped onto the bed next to her and rested his head on her thigh.

He moved her so that he could sit behind her, the bed sinking to accommodate his frame. She sat in between his legs. “Show me what you were trying to do.” He motioned to her phone that was tossed to the side.

She showed him a set of box braids that, to him, looked a little different that what he was used to. “Here.”

He usually helped her with her hair when she wanted to do protective styles like this—either she gets sleepy and she asks him to finish; or her hands cramp; or she gets bored; or he gets bored…

Regardless of why, the fact of the matter is now he knows how to do her hair and she planned to use it to her advantage—without the gloating, preferably, but she can only ask so much of him.

“Why do they look different than the other ones?”

“They’re knotless.” She replied. “I saw them on Twitter and tried to do it.”

“And…?”

“It’s too hard.” She groaned, plopping her head behind her on her husband’s chest.

He sat her up and looked at her hair. “You didn’t get very far.” He noted. She’d completed about four braids before he went to his interview, and since then, she’d only done two more. “How about we do the rest the way we know how, okay? It’ll go by faster.” He kissed her temple.

“Ugh.” She gave up. “Fine.”

“I know that’s not what you want—”

“At all.”

“—but you’re tired and I know you’re not going to help me until the end, and I don’t know how to do them the knotless way.” She felt him shrug. “Or, you can just have these four and be done.”

She nudged his chest with her elbow, making him chuckle.

He started reluctantly, first taking the rat-tailed comb and creating a part in the back of her head that spanned from ear-to-ear in width. She reminded him gently as she turned on the television, “don’t forget the gel”; and he knew all about the gel, by the way. The gel that smelled like heaven but was sticky and hard and was oddly fluorescent in color, and he had to use it because, “it keeps things neat”.

If it were up to him, they wouldn’t use the gel at all. But it’s her hair and what she asked for, and all he wanted was to make her happy.

Taking a piece of synthetic hair from its wrapping and folding one strip over the other like she taught him, he pressed it to the square part of her hair, braiding it into her scalp.

She’ll admit, he’s gotten quite good at it.

She won’t tell him that, of course—his ego’s already the size of Jupiter. But she will say, it’s a lot cheaper to have the two of them tackle the apparent feat of doing her hair as opposed to having to pay someone to travel all the way to their home to do the same job. In her mind, she was much more willing to spend the $80 on buying the hair and supplies, than the $250 (plus a generous tip) to pay one of her friends to do it.

He got on a lot easier than she seemed to. He completed six braids by the time Belle’s father was taken into the Beast’s castle; he’d done another five by the time Belle and the Beast played in the snow.

They made some conversation as he braided, but it was mostly her reminding him not to braid too tight. “It’ll pull when it’s time for them to come out.”

“I know, I know.” He replied gently, tapping her on the shoulder to hand him the gel when he needed more to lubricate his fingers.

Thankfully, these ones were were relatively large in size. Where they would usually be doing this all day, he was closer to being done in four hours. By the time he got towards the top of her head, Beauty and the Beast was over and she—much to his dismay—put on Age of Ultron.

Let’s be clear: she only puts on Marvel movies to fawn over her husband (and his castmates)—she already watched all the movies before they were married and knew their respective plots.

“Do we have to?” He groaned. “I’d really appreciate it if we watched something else.”

“Why?” she groaned back, mocking him playfully, reaching behind her and pinching his thigh. “You look pretty in your outfit.”

“You’d think so, huh?”

She laughed, watching the man that swept her off her feet quite literally fly through the air, his red, white, and blue shield in tow. Her eyes darted to the same shield that sat framed in a case in the corner of the room.

(He planned to move it to its own display in the living room, but he hasn’t gotten around to it yet.)

As if he read her thoughts, he mumbled to himself, “I gotta move that shield downstairs.”

“You said you were going to do it last week,”

“I meant to,” he turned her head to the side so he could start a new braid above her ear. “but I got sidetracked with work—I had meetings all week last week, remember?”

She nodded slowly in understanding, her head beginning to ache on her neck from having to remain still for so long.

She sat up straighter when she felt him get closer to the front of her head. She held up a mirror to see where his most recent part stopped, then she parted her own hair in the same way, taking pieces of synthetic hair and starting on the very front.

“Now you want to help me?” he laughed. “I’m almost done.”

“I needed a break.” She shrugged.

“I think four hours is plenty of break time, don’t you?”

“It depends.”

After another hour-and-a-half of them braiding her hair and debating—some would call it “bickering”—about why he wouldn’t dress Dodger up as Captain America for Halloween this year, they were finished.

She sighed, the tightness in her scalp irritating, but soothing in the same.

Her husband got up from behind her. Going into their bathroom, he went in the cabinet and took out a vile of oil, small and made of glass with a dropper for a lid. It was a combination of oils—some he’d heard of, some he hadn’t—that she liked to put on her hair to maintain its sheen.

He also took the time to grab her hair mousse and satin scarf, two other things that didn’t have much meaning to him until he married her.

He sat back on the bed. Wordlessly filling up the dropper, he dripped the oil onto her scalp, making her jump at first. He made sure to coat all her partings. Then he pressed his fingertips to her scalp, rubbing in gently the product.

“You okay?” he mumbled in her ear as he massaged her.

She nodded with a hum; her eyes closed in relaxation.

If there was one thing they enjoyed doing together, it was her hair.

He didn’t quite know why either. He liked helping her, yes; he liked talking with her as they did this, of course—but what was it about these kinds of moments that made his heart flutter?

There was something about massaging her scalp that made him feel closer to her. It was almost more intimate than sex, in his mind (which was saying a lot).

After a while, he stopped. She wanted to turn her head and whine to him to continue, but then she felt it.

She felt the cold foam on top of her head. Shuddering, she asked, “What’s that?”

“Mousse.” He said simply. “I’ll rub it in and then tie you up.”

She giggled childishly, “You’re gonna tie me up?”

“Yeah.” He kissed her forehead. “But not like that. Not yet, at least.” He pinched her side, which was something he always managed to do to be playful no matter how full his hands were.

He ran the product all through her scalp and down the shafts of her braids, the irritation immediately relieved. When he finished, he tied her scarf over her hair, making sure it was secure but not too tight.

“There.”

She turned to him, resting her head on his shoulder softly and kissing his scruffy neck. “Thank you, baby.”

“You don’t have to thank me, honey. This is what I’m here for.”

That made her heart flutter.

They sat like that for a while—her resting against him, and his arms around her protectively, careful not to pull her newly-installed extensions that they—ahem, he—worked hard on.

“You still have to do your ends, doll.”

Ugh. She hated that part; she always ended up burning herself somehow.

“Yeah, I know,” she sat up and stood, stretching her tired muscles. Her shirt rose just a bit, her brown tummy on display.

He almost licked his lips in lust.

Almost. He was trying to behave.

“I’m gonna go boil some water.” She yawned, trudging out of the room and to the linen closet to get two towels—one to wrap around her shoulders, and another to dry the ends of her hair once she soaked them.

In the time it took for her to get downstairs and into the kitchen to set a pot of water on the stove to boil, he’d changed into his loungewear and followed behind her. He found her seated at the kitchen table, half asleep. He tried to be quiet, but he startled her awake.

“Sorry.” He said, sitting in the open seat next to her.

She yawned again, “It’s fine.”

He found it adorable that she always got so sleepy after they finished her hair. He didn’t know if it was because of her having to sit still for so long, or if it was the scalp massage he’d given her. He didn’t really care why, because that meant he’d have another excuse to cuddle up to her.

The water soon gurgled from the stove, its heat steaming the screen of the above microwave oven. She stood, wrapping a towel around her shoulders and going to the stove. He emerged behind her, deciding that he would do it for her (since she always ended up injured).

Holding the pot by its handle, he gently dipped the ends of her braids into the hot water, taking the other towel to wring the hair dry. He did this twice, making sure that all her hair had gotten submerged and wrung.

She held her breath, clutching tightly the towel around her shoulders. She trusted him, obviously, but she still was terrified.

It took him all of five minutes to finish. By then, her arms grew tired, so she was grateful. He dumped the hot water down the sink’s drain, setting the pot back on the stove to cool down before he washed it.

Meanwhile, removing the towel from her body, she continued to wring out excess water from her ends so that they didn’t drip when she made her way upstairs to clean up. “I’m gonna put these in the wash, okay?” she kissed her husband’s cheek.

“Alright, baby.”

She smiled, thankful to have this man in her life.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He replied, kissing her hair.

—

tags (from sign-up sheet): @justtwhst @lokisbitch27

other tags: @cyberdoshee @honeychicanawrites @lovlisumi

#chris evans x black women #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x poc!reader #chris evans #chris evans fic #chris evans imagine #add to masterlist

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xwing-baby · 4 years ago

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A Day Off (Mandalorian x Reader)

This was inspired by everyone’s favourite @dindjarindiaries and her lovely fic ‘The Challenge’ go read it because it's way better than this bullshit that my brain came up with. You’re an amazing writer Molly, I am sorry for this. I’m not sure why I really wrote this, but I hope you enjoy!

IMAGINE: Din leaves you for the day to go on a hunt. You entertain yourself and end up very drunk by the time he comes to find you. Hilarity ensues. (Drink responsibly kids!)

Word count: 2.4k... this was meant to be short.

Warnings: Mention of alcohol, violence, and vomit! Please drink responsibly!! Cheeky bit of pining, little bit of flirting, fluff at the end!

The decision to leave you out of today’s hunt was a mutual one. You were tired and in need of a rest, the quarry was easy and Din was more than capable on his own anyway. So, he left you in a small town a few miles from his destination. In that small town, you found a tired old cantina, filled with enough booze and pleasant conversation to survive the next few hours.

The hunt was done, the victim handed off successfully to the right person and Din was on his way to find you so you could move on to the next planet. He was tired and bruised from the hunt and wanted to get back to the safety of the Crest sooner rather than later, but knew as soon as he heard your distinctive laugh from outside the cantina that that was not going to be the reality.

As if you knew he was coming, you stumbled out of the door before he could even open it. Your hair was messed up, strands falling out of the tie and into your face. There was liquid spilled down the front of your shirt and your boots were untied. You looked a mess. For a second he was a little worried, until a goofy smile spread across your face when you recognised him.

“You came back!” You threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around the Mandalorian. Shocked, Din stands still. Not really sure what to do with himself. You notice and laugh, stumbling back off him. “You were gone for like a million hours! I missed you”

“It was ten hours,” Din said with a smile, “But we’re going now,”

“Great, ‘cus I don’t think I can go back in there again,” You ran ahead of Din a few paces and grimaced. “Not a lot of friends were made today! But-but- but! I did a good thing actually!” Din just kept walking, trying not to entertain your rambling. You carried on anyway, you were used to his silence by now. “There was this twi’lek right, looked great but oh my stars! The worst! Turns out he knew you! Everyone knows you, not a surprise there. But he also knew that I was with you and tried to chat shit about you!” You were shouting now, gesturing animatedly and zigzagging across the street. “And he kept going so I just punched him,” You mimicked your actions from early, swinging your arm and using the momentum to turn back around to face the Mandalorian, “Punched him straight in the face! It was awesome!”

“You didn’t need to do that,”

“He was an asshole of course I did,” You sighed, “And apparently you know his sister or something? Didn’t realise you were such a Casanova, Tinman!” Again Din didn’t reply. He knew exactly who you were on about and was a little proud that you’d punched the guy. Must have been Xi’an’s brother. “Well, of course you are,” You continued. “You’re so freaking handsome all the time, and nobody can even see your face!” You swung back around to walk forward again, swinging your arms by your sides and giggling as you thought about what the Mandalorian might look like. You hadn’t been in his crew long but had developed feelings for him quite quickly. Not that Din knew this, “You know, I bet you’re really pretty under that helmet,” You tapped the top of his head for emphasis. “I don’t think you understand how pretty you are with it on! Maybe it’s for the best that you keep it on, you’d never be able to get anything done!”

“Alright, y/n,”

“You’re going to make some woman very happy one day Mando,” You said with a dreamy look in your eye.

Din smiled and blushed a little at your words. At the same time you had developed feelings for Din, Din had developed feelings for you. He was very glad to have the helmet to hide how obvious a blush came to his face when you said things like that. He wanted nothing more than to make you happy, if you only knew.

The pair carried on walking out of the town, and towards the small valley the crest had been hidden in. You carried on rambling away, telling him in immense detail everything that had happened while he was gone.

“And then I got challenged to a drinking contest with this other dude. I say dude but turns out he was a Wookie. And I won! Everyone says I didn’t but I saw the way he walked out of there, I won so hard! Drunk him under the table,” You spoke quickly and animatedly. Din wasn’t really listening anymore, just enjoying the sound of your voice and watching you as you walked ahead making sure you didn’t fall over. “You should have been there and we could have smashed it!” You laughed, spinning around to face him again now with a puzzled look on your face. “Have you ever been drunk, Mando?”

“A few times,” He replied, “Watch where you’re going,”

“I am,” You say, continuing to walk backwards anyway. You thought about something for a second then spoke again, “But what about the Creed? Don’t you have to drink alone? Or,” You stopped again and burst into laughter. Din stopped walking, his patience growing a little thin. “D-do you, Ha!” You could barely get your words out, tears streaming down your face laughing at your own thoughts. “To- to get around the cr-creed… oh my stars!”

“Y/n I don’t have time for this,” He said sharply.

“You have to use a straw!” You howled with laughter. Din shook his head, he wanted to be annoyed at you but your infectious laugh had caught him. He stifled his own laughter. “I want to see it so bad! Oh my stars!”

“You’ve had your fun now,” Din tried to sound serious, his voice wavering a bit through the modulator as he tried not to laugh.

“Yes, yes… oh! I’m sorry,” You tried to take a deep breath to calm yourself down. “Yes, I’m sorry you’re a super serious Mandalorian you wouldn’t use a straw!” You coughed to force yourself to calm down but cackled with laughter again. Din started walking again, leaving you behind a few paces while you calmed yourself down. Eventually, you followed and saw the ship over the crest of the hill.

“I’ll race you!” You called, already speeding past the Mandalorian down the grassy hill. “Winner gets the refresher first!”

You ran as fast as you could, and looked back for just a second to see that your companion hadn’t followed you. Before you could even blink you tripped and fell on a rock sticking out of the grass. You fell, flipping over and landing with a thud on your back. You skidded to a halt at the bottom of the hill, conveniently next to your intended destination. This made Din run.

Once he got to the bottom where you were, his panic quickly vanished as he found you in fits of laughter yet again.

“Did you see that!” You laughed. “I won!”

“Are you alright?”

“My back hurts a little, but I won, loser!” You exclaimed, putting your fingers in a ‘L’ on your forehead. Din rolled his eyes. As if this whole experience couldn’t get more ridiculous. “Not going to help me up?” You pouted and held up your arms like a child. Din uncrossed his arms and held his gloved hand out for you to grab and pulled you up to your feet again. The back of your shirt was ripped and grass stains covered the pale materials along with a few drops of blood. You didn’t seem concerned at all as the alcohol in your system was numbing everything.

Din opened the Crest and you walked up the ramp to the safety of its interior.

“Where’s the baby?” You whispered loudly. Ever since you’d joined the crew you’d loved the Child like your own. Another thing Din admired about you. “Baby! We’re back,”

“Why are you whispering?”

“Shh!” You shoved your hand over the front of his helmet, “He might be sleeping,” Din pushed your hand off, and you carried on walking into the ship, creeping on your tiptoes.

“I think you need to go to sleep,”

“Only if you’ll come with me,” You turned around and looked the Mandalorian up and down, your playful attitude now turning darker. You played with the buttons of your shirt, slowly undoing them. Din was stunned, freezing in his spot.

“That wouldn’t be appropriate,” Din tried to stay composed, but it was becoming more and more difficult as you took your top off. He knew he couldn’t do anything, you were way too drunk. He wasn’t an idiot. But he was also human.

“I bet you’re so pretty under there,” You sighed. You moved to be closer to him when a small green creature stood on a box and caught your attention instead. “Hey little guy!” Din took a sigh of relief, the tension you had created dissipated almost instantly as you bent down to pet the little creature.

While you were distracted he checked over your back, seeing only a few scrapes and deciding it would be fine until the morning when you’d sobered and also weren’t trying to flirt with him anymore. Well, the last part he didn’t mind so much.

Din went about his usual take-off activities. He could hear you talking to the Child, telling the little thing about your day and listening to it babble back, acting as if you could understand what it was saying. Eventually, you disappeared into the ship. Din hoped that you had gone to sleep.

You hadn’t. You went to throw up, ultimately finding an empty freight box. The mixture of spinning from alcohol and the bumpy takeoff made for an upsetting mix. The Child grimaced and put its hand up to comfort you. An odd feeling washed over you, like a warm water trickling through you, then you felt better. You could see straight now. The Child seemed happy with whatever it had done and toddled away.

You pushed yourself off the floor, and went in search of a new shirt. The cold chill of space had begun to seep into the ship's cracks making you shiver. You stumbled into Din’s quarters, you shouldn’t have been in there but it was the first place you thought to look for a new shirt. And you found one. His cot was messy, clothes thrown around the small room. You couldn’t help but think about him then, getting out of that armour…

It was too much. You shook your head. Even your drunk brain knew it was wrong to think about him like that. He didn’t like you, like that, there was no need to encourage the idea. Instead, you pulled the closest piece of clothing on. It was a little too big, but it smelt like him which made you smile.

You decided to go to the cockpit to bother the Mandalorian again. It was lonely being drunk on your own. You climbed up to the cockpit and stood in the door silently. Din was talking quietly to the Child, trying to pull it away from the many shiny switches on the control panel. You grinned, seeing him with the child made your heart soar. He was so sweet to the creature, for a moment you could forget what a formidable character the Mandalorian really was. He acted like the creature’s dad and it was entirely believable. Quietly, you settled into the seat to his right, looking out as the stars streamed past in hyperdrive. Din had noticed, though didn’t say anything. It was silent for a moment or two, bar the Child’s playful squeals as it played with a silver ball. Din figured you had fallen asleep, glad that you weren’t trying to flirt with him anymore.

“When are you going to let me fly?” You ask suddenly. Din turns to you, but doesn’t say anything. This was almost a daily discussion. It was always no. “I know you said no the last time but I really think you’re underestimating me. I land badly one time and you never trust me to fly your ship!”

“You crashed,” Mando said plainly.

“One time!” You exclaimed. “I’ll have you know it was very harsh conditions, and desert planets are very deceptive! Give me a nice- a nice planet,” You slurred as your eyes become heavier, “and I promise I will land the crest beautifully,”

“No way,”

“Spoil sport,” You grumble. The Child hopped up into your lap, and presented the silver ball it had in its mouth, which made you giggle. You settled further into the seat, throwing your legs over the armrest, kicking them against the leather. The Child sat in your lap and showed you its new trick of making the item float.

Mindlessly you began to sing, quietly, and play with the Child. The melody made Din’s ears prick, you were singing in Mando’a, a song that he hadn’t heard since he was a child. Your voice made him shiver, memories flooding back of the few happy moments of his life when this song was sung last.

You sang it to the end, with very few mistakes, making Din wonder how long you’d known it. You must have known it for a while, but you’d never understood him when he spoke the language before.

“Where did you learn that?” He finally caved and asked, wanting nothing more than for you to sing it again.

“I learnt it for you,” You said with a yawn, your eyes closing. You started singing again, the words now fading into mumbles and eventually you fell asleep. He turned in his chair to look at you as you were quiet once more. You’d curled yourself up in the chair, head tilted back resting on the wall. The Child sat in your chest, playing with the ends of your hair. The child looked at Din and smiled, then back at you. It's a little green hand patting your leg and it cooed.

“I know, kid.”

A/N: That ended a lot softer than I planned but hey ho. Remember drink responsibly, don’t challenge a wookie to a drinking challenge, you will lose. They’re massive. Goodnight!

Tagging: @captain-skytrash @dindjarindiaries @dartheldur @inked-poet @tortles

#this is dumb but I kind of like it now #the mandalorian #star wars #mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #star wars x reader #din djarin #mando x reader #x reader #drabble #writing #fanfictio #the child #baby yoda #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din x reader #baby yoda x reader #mandalorianxreader

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captainficspace · 4 years ago

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Game Night- Five’s Day

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy

Characters: The Hargreeves Sibs

A/N: I think this is actually my favorite fic I’ve written for this week. I couldn’t wait to post it :)

Movie night wasn’t the only “mandatory fun” the household had started keeping up with. Game night probably never would have happened in a million years if Vanya hadn’t suggested it and everyone wanted to let her have this one thing. Not that it had gone well, naturally. The initial concern would be that no one would care enough to show up, but the opposite ended up being true. No, everyone cared entirely too much when it came to game night. She had forgotten that everyone in the house was competitive as all hell, and so far there had been three game nights in a row that ended in someone flipping the board in frustration. It took serious begging to give it all one more try, and reluctantly, everyone agreed, if not out of the potential entertainment that would come from giving Klaus a Taboo buzzer.

Vanya had also thought things over, learning from the past nights. This had to be different. Everyone gave her looks of startled bewilderment when she came into the house that day, Klaus in tow, with a traffic cone, a 2x4, spray glitter, and a bulk bag of googly eyes.

“We’re making the game this time and it’s gonna be better than anything else you suggest, so don’t even start.” Klaus announced.

It somehow ended up being so much worse. There were seven pages of hand-written rules and a haphazardly painted board studded with google eyes and plastic dinosaurs. They had all been trying to play for a solid half hour and not even Vanya could remember what the objective had been. Putting the finishing touches on the game had taken up a good part of the night, so midnight was slowly approaching when things started to get real.

“So clearly, the spacemen need to roll to enter the chaos volcano and trade for the ice crystal if you’re going restore the dinosaur kingdom.” Diego moved the plastic army man they had been using as pawns, approaching a cardboard volcano at the center of the board.

“We don’t have enough HP to enter the volcano realm, yet. Everyone still needs to collect the spells.” Luther said, flipping back through the rules again for what seemed the thousandth time. None of it made sense. Vanya sank down in her seat ever so slightly. The goal was to make a game where everyone used their competitive-ass natures to work together for once, and she couldn’t even do that right. Five kept looking at her out of the corner of his eye, silently begging for her to allow him to leave. If this didn’t turn around in fifteen minutes, she was throwing in the towel.

“How can we be spacemen and also wizards?” Allison asked, looking over Luther’s shoulder to see the rules for herself, trying to find the bizarre cast of characters they had to pick from when starting the game. Spacemen, necromancers, aliens, ghosts, something called Bananamen…was there even a mention of wizards here? Five, on the other hand, had not looked at the rules since beginning out of silent protest for being part of game night once again. He stared into space or at the bottom of his empty mug, waiting for everyone to give up so he could just go to bed.

Klaus had long stopped trying to explain the rules that he and Vanya had come up with and instead became distracted with how many of the little plastic eyes he could pick off the board and stick to his face.

“Well, my character is a dinosaur and also a necromancer, so anything is possible.” Vanya added, trying to stay positive.

“See, so she can resurrect us in the volcano realm.” Diego said.

“She can only be allowed three healing spells. Did you pay any attention to the lizard king?” Allison asked.

“If Diego had used the action cards to fill out the sidequest-“ Vanya tried to balance between letting the others figure things out and outright telling them what to do out of growing frustration, and it wasn’t going well.

“Who has time for the sidequests?”

Five buried his face in his hands, slowly slumping down in his chair. No one could tell him he wasn’t being a good sport for just showing up.

“You’re just going to sit there as a level-two hermit and tell me, to my face, that I’m wrong?” Oh great. Diego was on his feet now, staring Luther down across the table. It was only a matter of time before the giant sheet of plywood they had used as a board was going to go flying.

“I will look you dead in your face and say you have zero idea how the sidequest with the elf queen was supposed to get us to the volcano realm.” And now Luther was also standing, nearly hitting his head on the chandelier that hung over the table. A shadow fell over the board

“Hey, guys. Look. I’m an angel now.” Klaus interjected, drawing attention to his eye-covered face, “I’m using my holy damage by punching the volcano in the face until we get the ice crystal.” The two feuding brothers ignored him, still refusing to take a seat until the problem was solved.

“You shut your damn velociraptor mouth.” Diego growled.

From behind his hands, Five squeaked. Vanya looked closer and realized his shoulders were shaking. He wasn’t just playing up his exasperation for dramatic effect; he was giggling. The others turned as well, equally surprised.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Allison asked, “We hadn’t heard much at all from our level 3 firebreather.” Five shook his head, still covering his face. He was doing a progressively worse job at keeping himself quiet, and his laughter was beginning to break through, high-pitched and sweet.

“He would always get like this when he stayed up too late.” Luther said, “Don’t you guys remember?” The memories slowly started to come back of them sneaking into each other’s rooms after lights-out to actually be kids for once. Five was always the first to succumb to the midnight giggles, curling up and hiding his face in a pillow to muffle the sound so he wouldn’t get them caught. It would spread like wildfire, and they would all end up giving into that magical hour of the night where everything became funny, cracking jokes and teasing each other and finally not taking anything too seriously. Either Five had never outgrown it, or it was just another perk of new form.

“He’s overtired. I guess he’s just loopy.” Allison said, grinning as she heard a muffled snort come from the giggling pile of sleep-deprived goo that was her brother. He put his head down on the table and buried his head in his arms, well-past being able to stop at this point.

“Instead of turning into a pumpkin at midnight he just turns into a gigglebox.” Klaus leaned over and squeezed his knee, “Come on, let me see your smiling face!” Five squealed, nearly falling out of his chair trying to squirm away. He still refused to lift his head and show that he was actually capable of laughing.

“We need your firebreather wisdom, be a team player!” Diego added, coming over from behind and digging his hands into his ribcage.

A solid thud came from under the table, knocking over several pieces on the board from the force. Everyone sitting nearby said a silent word of thanks that Five ended up kicking the underside of the table and not anyone’s shins. Five kicked like a mule when he was tickled, especially in the scream-laughing stage Diego had him in as he wiggled his fingers in-between each bone.

“Oh, and now he’s taking down the bananamen army.” Luther said, throwing up his hands in mock-anger.

Five finally lifted his head, swatting his brothers away. His unrestrained cackling bounced off the walls, almost startling in its volume and intensity.

“E-Enough!” He squeaked out, sniffling. His face was bright red and streaked with tears. The brothers slowed down, but still didn’t stop completely, sneaking in pokes and squeezes to keep him giggling.

“His dimples hadn’t changed at all.” Klaus said, pinching his cheek and giving him one last tickle behind his knee. Five swatted him with one hand and muffled his laughter with the other, shoulders shaking. He couldn’t look Klaus in the face with those stupid googly eyes and Diego’s ‘ ”shut your velociraptor mouth” comment kept playing over and over in his head. The teasing and the tickling did nothing to help his attempts at pulling himself together. He pounded his fist on the table, the hand over his mouth doing little to suppress his giggle fit.

“Is it past someone’s bedtime?” Allison asked, doing everything in her power to be condescending.

“I h-HA-hate you!” He managed out at last. Everyone waited for him to blink away in a burst of angry eyebrows and swearing, but he stayed. He actually stayed. Vanya then considered every part of game night a success. No one had seen or heard Five laugh, really laugh, in forever. She had almost forgotten what it sounded like. Five himself probably forgot what it felt like, still shaking with leftover giggles from the tickle attack. He finally caught his breath, trying to scowl but failing.

“I hate you.” He repeated, wiping his eyes.

“You hate how much I’m kicking this volcano’s ass.” Klaus said, “You wish you were a level 420 angel spaceman like me.”

“Now you’re just making things up!” Vanya said. The game was hopelessly out her hands at this point, but she was strangely at peace with it.

“We made up the entire game! If anything, I’m just creating the expansion pack as we speak.” Klaus defended, grabbing the rules out of Vanya’s hands and scribbling a new page of ideas.

The game went on well into the night, with each twist and turn becoming more and more bizarre. Five’s uncommonly giddy mood was infectious, and everyone had to stick around to enjoy it while it lasted, even grabbing at his knees when he tried to shift back into his typically grouchy state. The ice crystal was never acquired, but Five ended up with the hiccups from laughing so much and so hard, so everyone thought the evening was worth it. As the game wrapped up, everyone left the room feeling somewhat lighter, relieved almost. They were going to have to start later more often.

#tua tickle fic week

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crystalgirl259 · 4 years ago

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The Flame and the Dragon Chapter 28

Chapter 28: The Letter

Blood smeared the knuckles when they made contact with the thick wood of the thickest tree trunk. The Sorcerer hissed and hollered as he banged his hands furiously against the tree. His entire body shook with rage at the evidence his newest spy brought him. He waited too long. He pulled himself away from the free and covered his face with his hand. Now it was only a matter of time before Kai gave into Cole's seduction. He banged the tree again, then composed himself and pulled the hood of his cloak over his raven hair.

He watched the cut of his hand swell and bubble until perfectly healed skin was revealed.

He waited too long. The second he suspected the teen had Occulti blood he should have acted! His growl morphed into a roar.

"Damn to the depths of my lust and pride!" He bellowed. He had known he had taken a heavy gamble when he decided to change his strategy, but it was too difficult to resist such a tempting specimen, especially since if his seduction proved a success it would devastate the Dragon Lord more than a thousand of the most vicious monsters. Now, his miscalculation had caused him a major setback. It was worse when it became clear exactly who this mysterious specimen was.

It had been easy to ignore the first instance as merely a single occurrence.

It wasn't uncommon for humans to discover untapped abilities in traumatic or near-death situations. Many people held biological connections to magical ancestors. The religions might have changed, but the blood certainly didn't, he himself was proof of that. Still, many lines had become so thinned by mundane human blood any inherited power could only be tapped through stress or shock and usually only once. But the skills used to defeat his monsters and the premonitions were too much to be a coincidence.

That Occulti whore was dead and she continued to be a thorn in his side.

A wicked smile curled across his lips as he approached the road. The raven sat immobile like a statue on his shoulder awaiting instructions. It didn't matter now. She failed then and she will fail now.

"I'm running out of time, and I'll be damned if I let some Occulti whore destroy over one hundred years of patience and hard work!" He thundered and looked to the crow. It shot up and waited for orders. "Watch them, if they do anything together, inform me immediately; I don't have much time to carry out the next stage of my plan." He commanded. The crow bowed its head and flapped away into the night. The Sorcerer's grin widened as he chuckled then burst out laughing when he came to the main road.

He turned around taking one last look at the castle in the distance.

"Enjoy your concubine while it lasts, prince." He smirked recalling the conversations his spies had recorded. Episodes of the life the boy had forsaken to appease the dragon's wishes. Memories of a high-ranking man who fancied him. Of the childhood instances experienced in Ignacia. Of the siblings he had sacrificed himself for, who were no doubt still terrified for their brother's safety. He may have feelings for the dragon, but Kai was like any other human when it came to sacrificing.

As the Sorcerer walked along the forgotten path, he noticed a cold stream still flowing and an evil idea formed in his mind.

He dunked his hands into the freezing liquid and used his magic to create a small ball of water.

"Enough talking, time for some screaming." He cackled as he blew into the bubble turning it into an ice ball. He then shook the ball violently before throwing it into the air. He smirked as it broke apart and a grey, shimmering mist blew through the wind towards the castle. That should buy him some time...

****************

Nya hollered and roared in rage as she slamming the door to her house shut. It screamed in protest as it suffered the force of his anger. The only thing the village idiots were good for was gossip and apparently, Morro's dismissal of Kai's fate had spread faster than an infectious plague. So much now even other towns were mocking them. No matter where she went to who she begged to help her, she was simply laughed at. One of them even suggested she join her brothers and started to believe in children's stories.

A frustrated hand ripped at Nya's raven bangs.

The only one who seemed remotely worried was the librarian, Dr. Saunders, but he was just one old man. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't go wandering through the dark forest, let alone take on a dragon-hybrid monster. She stormed into the kitchen, her angry steps echoing loudly in the empty room. Nya growled and started grabbing whatever her furious mind thought she would need and stuffed them into a bag she already had set up on the kitchen table.

If no one will help her, she would find that castle and get him back herself.

She stuffed the bag with food, maps, and anything else. She strapped it tight and threw it over her shoulders, donned her thickest coat to keep out the freezing winter air, her cloak, and her heaviest boots. Once she was secure, she turned to the staircase.

"Lloyd, I spoke with Mrs. Grumbmiller, you're gonna stay with her until I get back, is that alright?" She called loudly. Her words echoed through the house, and she braced herself for her younger brother's protests. Instead, she found only silence and she started to panic. She quickly realizing Lloyd hadn't run downstairs when she came inside. He didn't come crying and begging to know if anyone would help them like he had done every time she came home over the last two months.

When their previous attempts had failed.

After two months of trying, Nya and Lloyd returned home only to discover the town was debating what to do with their house and shop now that they were gone. It was only because of Nya's fury that the town would act so irresponsibly. Nya refused to leave their home unattended. Despite Lloyd's protest, Nya left him behind to protect the shop under Mrs. Grumbmiller's care during the lonely nights. Panic started to rush through Nya's entire being.

She bolted from the stairs, checking each room on the ground floor, painstakingly for her younger brother.

When her search failed she thundered up the old steps. Her eyes scanned every room, meticulously for any sign of the young boy. Nya's eyes widened when she entered her own room. Lloyd had been known to sleep there some nights when his worry became too much. Again she found it all empty, even missing a few things. The realization made her sick as she bolted upstairs, heading straight towards Lloyd's bedroom. She panicked and threw the door open but her heart sank into her stomach.

The room was empty, but dressers were left open, empty of clothes.

Her thick winter cloak was missing from the hanger as well as Lloyd's thickest pair of boots. The only evidence that the boy had been there at all was a note left on the bed. She grabbed it with haste and read it as fast as she could. Her eyes bulged with horror and fear as she read over each word, filled with tears.

Nya,

If you're reading this then I'm already gone. I'm sorry I didn't wait until you came back but no one is going to help us, I know that now. I can't leave our big brother to suffer in that horrible place. He's only there to protect me, so I've decided I'm going to go back to that castle, and no matter what I must do I will free our big brother. No matter what. I've already taken more than enough remedy so I won't choke, so don't worry about me.

Please don't come after me, Nya.

I know you and what you're planning. You'll try and switch places with Kai and I can't let that happen. That dumb duke is right about one thing, you two have sacrificed everything for me, now it's my turn to help you.

I love you, Ny-Ny.

Nya screamed and cursed, crushing the little note in her hand, cursing her baby brother's foolishness. Her hands clenched the window as she looked outside. Though Winter was fading quickly, new frost still encased the ground. Winter was still dangerous and it was the most hazardous time of year for someone with Lloyd's condition. She could also swear that those dark clouds rolling in were the signs of an incoming blizzard. A bad one at that.

Snow was already falling and getting heavier with every passing second.

She screeched as she tied on her boots and hopped down the hall, before finally falling over and stormed out the front door. If Lloyd died, she was going to murder him. As soon as she was ready, Nya bolted down the street and towards the woods for any sign of Lloyd as she vanished into the night. She was in such as rush that she didn't notice or hearing the hammer of footsteps approaching the now-empty home. The snow-covered any evidence of her footprints within seconds, masking her trail in the process.

Seconds after Nya left, Morro and Bansha arrived with Noble's collection wagon.

"Nya! Lloyd! Kai!" Morro hollered as he shoved the door to the dark house open, not even bothering with chivalry as Bansha stepped inside behind him. As soon as they entered, they saw that the house was vacant of light and life. The lamps had burnt out, the doors were locked, and no sound echoed through the rooms.

"Where are they? I thought Nya would be back by now!" The duke screeched like an angry owl.

"They're not here, Morro." She quirked, not wishing to be on the wrong side of the Duke's anger.

"This is ridiculous! How long do they plan on being gone? It's been four months!" He bellowed throughout the house. He hissed in a furious rage when no one answered him.

"Morro, you don't think... maybe..." Bansha trailed off nervously. She nervously rubbed her arms and flinched and looked at the floor when Morro's heated glare turned to her.

"If you are going to say what I think you're going to say, I don't want to hear it! There is no such thing as dragons or castles or any of this nonsense! It was a lie! A trick of their little minds!"

"But Morro, think of it!" She protested. "Kai's been gone for almost four months, and ever since his disappearance Nya has been going around town and asking anyone to help her, and Lloyd's been doing the same thing, swearing on their lives that he's been kidnapped and taken hostage by this dragon; they've even gone so far as to seek help from other towns! Why would they keep this story of a 'dragon' kidnapping Kai going if it wasn't true? What if Kai really was kidnapped?"

Morro glared at the girl and opened his mouth to protest but found he could not.

Instead, he stormed back through the door scowling.

"Alright, say this 'dragon' does exist and their story is true? Why would Kai stay with such a monstrosity?" He chuckled darkly.

"Well as you said, Morro, he would do anything to protect his family correct? Maybe, he was forced?" She suggested.

"Excuse me, duke." A smooth voice interrupted Morro as he was about to scream again. The two of them turned around and saw a tall man dressed in vibrant red and purple colors that made him glow in the darkness of the storm approached them. His hood shadowed his face and eyes and only pale streaks of black hair were visible.

"Forgive my forward intrusion, but I'm afraid I couldn't help but overhearing your plight, the plight of your town, and I think I may know what has befallen this unfortunate family." He said with the best fake saddest look he could muster. The pair exchanged equal bewildered glances until Morro's gaze hardened and he returned his glare to the man.

"And who are you?"

"My name of no importance to one of such caliber as yourself, sir." He bowed respectfully. Morro soaked the flattery up like a sponge, but Bansha shivered, catching the sinister smile crossing the man's face.

"Know only that I wish to aid you, I have traveled much in my lifetime, seeking wisdom and the destruction of injustice; if this creature is who I fear we must act quickly or I fear this boy, your fiancé's fate, may already be sealed."

"What are you talking about? What will happen to my Kai?" Morro demanded.

"My entire life, my lady, has been devoted to the destruction of a terrible beast who is responsible for the downfall of my ancestors." The man began. "A hundred years ago they ruled these lands until they were brutally betrayed by this creature, as punishment he was cursed to become a dragon and since then I have hunted him down in hopes of avenging my family's senseless destruction and it seems I have finally found him." He spoke with the passion of a tragic hero but remained focused on their reactions.

He could see they were both skeptical but there was fear evident in their eyes.

Fear that he knew was the perfect fuel for creating an angry mob or a rebellion or an army to obey one's will if it would promise the return of their safety.

"What does your personal crusade have to do with my fiancé?" Morro demanded again as Bansha's hands found his arm and squeezed it tightly, shivering at the frightening presence the man radiated.

"As I said, sir, the dragon is a monster." He spat. "He seeks an end to his curse, and unfortunately, that freedom includes the seduction of a beautiful and talented mortal, and apparently he's settled for this boy you've fallen for, so just you watch; he will descend his destruction on the entire town if given the chance!" The man spoke, emphasizing the destruction of the town and the word seduction.

"No!" Morro screamed and thrashed in fury and rage. "Kill him! Destroy him! Slice off his head!"

"Calm yourself, my lord." The stranger soothed in a sophisticated voice that commanded obedience. "There is still time to save the boy and his family, but I need your help, yours and this town's if you are willing to help me?" He asked as his eyes were soft and his voice pleading. "My only request is that you let me kill the monster, all I ask is to avenge my family, your land shall be yours once more and whatever riches are in the castle, I'm wealthy enough that I do not need such trivial things, all I seek is to avenge my family."

"Of course," Morro announced, throwing his cloak over his shoulder and howling in his delight. "We must get to the town hall immediately! Bansha, go and gather my council, tell them to rally the people, we have to rescue my fiancé!" He ordered, leaving no room for argument. Bansha shivered and nodded mutely, before rushing down the street desperate to get away from the man.

"By the way, who should I say you are when I explain you to the city?" The duke turned to the man as he hauled after his maid. He was shocked, however, to find the man had vanished into thin air. The only difference to before was the thundering of the incoming snowstorm clouds...

#The Flame and the Dragon #beauty and the beast #ninjago #ninjago morro #ninjago nya #ninjago lloyd #ninjago cole #ninjago kai #lavashipping

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tickle-fic-chick · 5 years ago

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Mr. Tough, Ticklish Athlete || A Breakfast Club Tickle Fic

Author’s Note: Andrew has to be one of my favorite lees to write for. I just love supposedly tough guys who bust into giggles the minute you wiggle your fingers in their direction. Bender would also make a stellar ler, in my humble opinion. Anyways, this fic has taken a little longer than expected, but I still hope you all enjoy!

What was happening? How had things gotten to this point? No one knew for sure. Things just tended to happen to the so-called Breakfast Club and they took it all in stride. None of them were what you would consider normal, besides maybe Claire and Andrew, so the odd directions their conversations and actions took rarely surprised them. The boys had been hanging out in the library, enjoying a much needed break from their school work. The room was completely empty; no one would choose to be in the library, after all. Claire and Allision had skipped school, deciding that a girl’s day out would be beneficial before the stress of exams, leaving the boys completely unsupervised. As expected, things went south quickly.

“What did you just say to me?” Bender growled, getting to his feet. The athlete's eyes widened, his mouth going dry. Still, he forced a smirk back onto his face. “I just suggested that you might not be as tough as you say you are.” Brian, the innocent bystander in this oncoming war, simply watched it happen. “Those are fighting words, Clark.” The criminal replied, taking a step towards the blonde. Andrew barely held back a flinch. “Oh really? What are you gonna do, snuggle me to death?” Bender’s cheeks instantly went red. The rest of the group had caught him and Claire snuggling a week ago and no one would let it go, especially Andrew. Well, he would show him! “That’s it!” Bender lunged towards Andrew, who barely managed to scramble away in time. “You’ve done it now, Andrew.” Brian chuckled, shaking his head as he watched the two dance around each other.

Andrew was looking for any possible escape route. His heart was hammering with excitement and nervousness. While he loved being tickled, a fact that his friends knew quite well, that didn’t mean he would make it easy on Bender. He couldn’t let himself be taken so easily; that would be downright embarrassing. He had to maintain his image as the tough athlete, after all. He slowly backed away, eyes darting towards the double doors on the other side of the empty library. If he could just make it to them, he could find a hiding place. Then again, moving to the hallways meant a higher chance of someone seeing them. That was the last thing he wanted. Still, if he made it to a more crowded area, maybe Bender would leave him be? The criminal wasn’t one for public displays of affection, after all. He would be safe if he could just make it to the...

The blonde was suddenly on the ground, his butt sore from the fall. He had tripped over something. Glancing over, he saw Brian slowly move his leg back into its previous position. That bastard had tripped him! He was so going to get him for that! Before Andrew could blink, Bender was upon him, pinning him to the floor. “Brian, keep watch. Warn me if anyone comes in.” He instructed. The nerd nodded, eyes sparkling with amusement. “Will do.” He replied. Andrew was squirming, trying half-heartedly to break free. “You cheaters!” Bender smirked down at his trapped prey, positioning his free hand over Andrew’s exposed stomach. “You aren’t in a position to be making such accusations.” That smirk was downright evil. “Now, I’m going to give you one chance to apologize.” Silence. “Alright, you had your chance!”

Andrew’s eyes widened, a plea tearing from his throat. “W-Wait! Bender, don’t you-” He was cut off as laughter overtook him. Bender’s hand vibrated ruthlessly into his toned stomach, driving his friend up the wall. “We’ve only just started and you’re laughing this hard? Jesus, man! You’re more sensitive than a girl.” The brunette teased. Andrew blushed, attempting to hide his face in his shoulder. “SHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUT UP!” He cackled. Bender gasped, face showing exaggerated shock. “Take that back!” One of his fingers slipped into Andrew’s belly button, drawing more hysterical laughter from the blonde. “NOOOOOHOHOHOHOHOHO WAHAHAHAHAY!” The other shot back, determined not to give in. Bender kept up the attack for a minute before giving Andrew a break.

Since regular tickling seemed to be getting them nowhere, Bender decided to take it up a notch. “Oh really? We’ll see about that...” He tugged up Andrew’s shirt to expose his stomach. Andrew’s eyes widened, giggles erupting from his lips. “Dohohohon’t you dare!” He yelped. Bender’s smirk was downright evil. “What was that, tough guy? Did you say something?” Andrew instantly clammed up. Before he could gain his bearings, Bender was glowing raspberry after raspberry into his stomach. He shrieked, hips bucking as he cackled his head off. Brian winced; he could only imagine being in that position. This ruthless attack kept up until Andrew’s cheeks hurt from laughing so hard. He never could handle raspberries or tickle bites; they were absolutely killer for him. He panted when Bender finally decided to give him a break.

“Well, since you have refused to cooperate, I’m afraid I’ll have to take drastic measures.” Bender moved down, sitting on Andrew’s lower legs. The athlete instantly knows what is about to happen. “N-No, wait! Bender, wehehe can talk about this!” He was already giggling. Brian and Bender couldn’t help but grin; Andrew’s laughter was downright infectious. “Just apologize if you really don’t want him to do it.” Brian replied. They were once again met with silence. Just as Bender was about to take of Andrew’s shoes, they heard the door open. “Librarian!” Brian yelped in an excited whisper. Bender was instantly back in his chair, leaving Andrew on the floor. The librarian glanced at them as she passed but didn’t question them.

Andrew looked up at the two, disappointment clear in his eyes. He resembled a kicked puppy, which just broke their hearts. Bender smirked, leaning over and whispering to the dejected Andrew. “I’m not finished with you, tough guy. As soon as we’re alone, you’re mine.” Andrew’s cheeks instantly returned to their red color, his heart leaping with joy. He tried to stammer out a reply, his words jumbling in his mouth. What could he say to that? Did he thank him? Or did he keep up the visaed of the big, strong athlete? In the end, he chose to say nothing. It didn’t matter because, in truth, he didn’t have to say anything. Bender got the message loud and clear.

A few hours later, when school ended, Bender was waiting for Andrew outside the school. The blonde instantly filled with nervous excitement. Bender’s lips curled into a smirk, hands slipping into his pockets. Despite his casual stance, he was extremely intimidating to Andrew. Not that he minded, of course. “My parents are out of town for the weekend. Want to come over and finish our little discussion?” Andrew nodded, unable to stop the grin from spreading across his face. “Only if you’re finally going to admit that I’m right.” He shot back playfully. Bender glanced around, making sure no one was watching before growling his response into the athlete's ear. “You’re going to regret that, Clark. Just wait until we get to my place.”

Andrew did not regret it one bit.

#andrew clark #john bender #brian johnson #the breakfast club #tickle fic #tickling #tickle community #tickle blog #writing blog

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waywardfacegarden · 4 years ago

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burning embers

Modern Au: Zuko centric + The Gaang + Zukka + Friendship/Family feels + Angst and Fluff.

Summary: Zuko learns the meaning of love.

Read on Ao3 here.

There’s something so tragically painful about falling in love, they say.

But Zuko wouldn’t know. He doesn’t know what falling in love with someone is, he doesn’t know what it feels like. Love is a concept so alien to him; he can’t even grasp the root of it. He just knows a broken home, the remaining ashes of a devastating, blazing fire that was supposed to be his father’s love.

He doesn’t know what love is. And yet, he understands: the underlying and heart-wrenching agony that comes with loving. The sorrow that comes with it; it is just there, intrinsically linked. It’s something that the small kid—full of unknown love and golden warmth, but also deep, bitter pain—comprehends at the tender age of 11.

It’s just common knowledge for him, the same way he knows the sky is blue and the sun hides at night.

Family. Love. Father.

Those words don’t have meaning, Zuko thinks, lying on his bed one night, still hearing the disappointment in his father’s voice echoing in his ears in the quiet darkness of his room. They’re there, of course. And he knows them. He can say them. But they feel far away, slipping through the space between his fingers, becoming dust that blows away with the chilly wind of an autumn midnight, escaping him before he can place what was there in the first place.

They don’t hold weight. They don’t mean anything. They’re shallow; they just exist, like a couple of letters strewn together, like when you say your name so many times in a row it doesn’t even feel right anymore; but, he supposes only a few people are blessed with their significance, with tasting them in their mouth with something not akin to hate or bitterness or emptiness.

Loneliness. Despair. Dishonor.

Those have meaning. Those have weight, despite being such empty words.

(But they very much taste like something akin to hate, too—and that’s the thing.

Maybe Zuko just doesn’t know anything aside from [self-]hate.)

Family, love, father. They are concepts that come alive to him the same way a phoenix is born.

They rise, awakening from the ashes that the fire within themselves has burned to death; so beautiful, so mystical, so mesmeric and so incredibly fragile and precious and wondrous, like a mythological creature coming back to life after having known its own death.

He learns the words and their meaning the same way his brain starts learning new things and concepts by reading a book; but he doesn’t learn with his mind—even though a part of him knows that this is where knowledge is stored—Zuko learns with his heart (he has always learned things best with his heart; after all, Zuko wears it on his sleeve; he’s emotional, visceral, volatile—his feelings are way too intense, too much that they burn his chest open; he’s always aflame), with his eyes, with his hands. He learns it in every little gesture that’s given to him, in every little crack (that keeps filling and filling and filling) of the time that goes on, in every little drop of ink that is spilled on the parchment where his life is being written.

He learns the words in the way he begins learning his uncle's tea recipes, in the satisfaction and pride he feels when his uncle congratulates him for a job well-done on a warm, quiet Saturday afternoon as he finishes helping cleaning and serving the tables around the teashop, in the way his favorite cup sits next to his uncle's on the kitchen counter in the mornings, full of Zuko’s favorite bubble tea; he learns them in the ugly, endearing, oversized sweater hanging at the back of his closet, the one his uncle gave him in his last birthday; he learns about love in the gentle smiles of weekends, in the singing of the birds outside his room’s window, in the blanket that rests around his shoulders when he is sitting on the comfy couch on a calm Thursday night, dozing off while trying to study for an English test, in the way the nightmares that used to haunt him are tormenting him less and less every time; he learns the meaning of father in his uncle's ridiculous pajamas, full of tiny drawings of cherry blossoms and tea leaves, in his uncle’s obsession with Pai Sho, and in the wise phrases he keeps throwing at Zuko even when he cannot fully understand them.

He learns, little by little, step by step, like a slow fire burning inside his guts.

And it's a weird, strange thing. Zuko learned that fire hurts you, the same way he learned that love does, but somehow, after years of building his new life, it doesn't feel that way anymore.

His uncle is patient with him. Patient as someone who would teach someone else origami or as someone who’s slowly writing a book. He teaches him, sees him fall, stumble and trip over his feet (both, metaphorically and literally speaking) and he’s there when Zuko gets up again.

It’s a nice feeling. Knowing that someone is going to be there, even if you fall. Even when you fail.

His uncle teaches him, the same way he creates a new tea receipt for the menu; carefully, gently, ever so softly. He takes Zuko, the broken child who looks at him through his pain and hatred, and makes him open his eyes. He points out, over and over and over again, that failing is not a bad thing, that love exists and that it doesn't have to hurt, and that if it does, you can heal from it; he teaches him that Zuko is full of it, full of love, he says that he’s always been.

Somehow, it feels a bit like healing. Of course, Zuko is still broken. Probably, a part of him always will be; but, somehow, he doesn't think that being a bit broken is so wrong now.

Friendship was a foreign concept to him, too. Or maybe not, but Zuko never wanted to get involved with it.

Too much trouble.

(Or maybe fear—fear of what it carries, what it holds in its nature; fear of failing, of not being enough, of being left out, of getting too attached.)

But just as Zuko was wrong about so many things in his life, this is not the exception.

He comes to learn that, too.

It’s a different process than with his uncle. Maybe because it’s slower, or maybe because it’s, rather, faster. Maybe because he wasn’t aware he was learning at all.

Zuko doesn’t know exactly when it starts. Can’t pinpoint the exact moment he started getting involved. Not that he cares much about that at this point, but he would like to know.

They kind of adopt him in their group (or, er, gang, as they call it), without Zuko noticing. But to be fair, Zuko doesn’t notice a lot of things.

Toph is a friend of his Uncle, and she lives near the teashop, so she’s around more time than she’s not; she’s loud and kinda rude, and always calls Zuko a dork or a nerd or an idiot, but Zuko realizes he likes when she’s there. Aang comes along sometimes, with his scarily bright smile. There’s also Katara and her big brother, Sokka.

He likes all of them, to his extreme surprise. They’re all good people. Aang is way too kind, Katara may be scary but she’s pretty cool, and Sokka is just a combination of a very, weirdly endearing, smart dumbass, which is, uh, new.

He honestly doesn’t know how it happened, or when it happened, but suddenly he’s tucked under a soft fuzzy blanket in winter, sandwiched in the middle of the three-spot sofa, with Aang almost laying over his lap. He’s almost sitting on Sokka’s right leg, pressing him against the arm sofa, his side overlapping with Sokka’s. He doesn’t seem to mind, though. He’s sitting there, cross-legged, with his right arm fully extended on the back of the sofa, almost like he’s hugging Zuko’s shoulders; he’s practically leaning on Zuko.

His arm and his side are really warm, though. Not as much as Zuko generally is, but it’s… kind of nice.

“Katara, Titanic is a classic, dude. What the hell.”

Zuko takes a sip from his hot chocolate, blowing off the clouds of steam gathering over the cup—the warmth of it is pretty welcomed in his throat, to be honest, while Katara rolls her eyes at her brother.

“I’m not watching that for the fifth time in a month and seeing you and Aang both cry for an hour later after the already three long hours of the movie.”

Sokka looks pretty indignant about Katara’s attitude towards his (probably) favorite movie, which is pretty amusing.

“You’re just a monster,” Sokka says, dramatically, “that’s why you don’t cry.”

Katara rolls her eyes again.

“I don’t know,” Toph says, from the couch closer to the TV, sprawled all comfortably over it. “It’s actually a really funny movie,” she points out, and then draws out her voice. “‘Jack, draw me like one of your French girls’.”

Aang laughs pretty loud, and Zuko smiles at the bad impersonation despite himself.

“Well, My Heart Will Go On is my anthem.” Sokka says, puffing out his chest.

Zuko actually snorts into his cup and Sokka shoots him a look. He remembers the time Aang and Sokka recreated that iconic scene, with Toph singing at the top of her lungs in a ridiculously obnoxious voice. He actually laughed at that.

Sokka seems to read his mind, because after a few moments of staring at Zuko’s face, his entire expression lights up. He grins, eyes sparkling, and starts singing really loud and purposely out of tune. Aang starts laughing and Toph doesn’t waste time on joining Sokka in singing. Even Katara smiles.

A few minutes later of terrible singing, they’re all laughing. Toph is cackling so hard she’s on the floor, and Sokka keeps leaning over him, laughing in his ear. He believes it should be annoying, but instead of that, it’s actually infectious and Zuko laughs a bit harder.

After they calm down, Toph is clutching at her sides and Sokka is wiping tears out of his eyes.

Aang smiles, then, softly and content, and raises a hand in the air, like asking for permission to talk.

“I have an idea.” He says, and turns around to look at him. “Why don’t we just let Zuko decide? He hasn’t chosen anything yet for our Friday movie nights.”

All eyes turn to look at him at that. He stops his movements, mouth hanging open, hot cup halfway to his lips.

“Uh,” he frowns. “Thank you, but, um. Why would I choose? It’s your thing.”

Everyone stares at him like he has two heads, which, okay fair but why.

“What?”

Aang gives him a soft smile, all kind eyes and gentle features, like he’s about to talk to a baby, but before he can say anything, Sokka is putting an arm around his shoulders and leaning all his weight on him, as if they weren’t already close enough.

“This is your thing as much as it is ours, dude.” He says, grinning, “You’re one of us.” He vaunts, proudly, and ruffles Zuko’s hair.

Katara nods, at the same time Toph goes:

“Yup, you’re already in, loser.”

Aang chuckles. “Yes, you’re our friend, Zuko.”

Zuko blinks, stunned.

That’s…

There’s…

That’s… the F-word.

Friend.

Huh? What? How? When did that happen? Huh? Did he miss something in the past few months?

Sokka, completely oblivious to his emotional turmoil, insistently points to the TV while squeezing him. "So, buddy? Don't you think we should watch Titanic to cry and share a couple of very male tears?"

"You only want to watch it because you have a crush on both Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio." Katara accuses.

"Nuh-uh!"

"Yes, you do! You even still keep that poster of them behind your…"

"Katara!!!!"

Friend.

It’s a nice word.

It tastes like hot chocolate in his mouth on a cold night, it sounds like Sokka’s laugh and Toph’s jokes, and it looks like Aang’s kind eyes and Katara’s nice smile.

It feels like something. It holds meaning. It’s not an empty word. At all.

Sokka’s hand ruffling his hair or over his shoulders, Toph’s nicknames for him, Aang’s offer of help in times he feels like Zuko needs it, Katara’s help with homework and advice on his recipes doesn’t let him forget that. ‘Friend’ is never going to be an empty word.

Friend tastes like hope, like warm food and bear-hugs.

Friend is such a nice word.

The thing with Zuko being generally—and strangely—warm all the time is that summer is a complete nightmare for him.

He's sitting directly in front of the fan at full power, barefoot in just jeans and a light T-shirt, and yet he still feels like he's going to explode. The weather forecast in the morning heralded a heat wave in midsummer, and it's exactly the worst thing in the world that could happen to Zuko's already overheated body. Toph groans beside him, lying with her arms and legs spread like a starfish on the cold ground. It is no comfort to her, however, and Zuko can understand that well.

Katara is looking at something on her phone, fanning herself with a magazine, and Aang remains practically unaffected, just as energetic as ever as he eats the remaining watermelon slices from the bowl they recently filled.

Zuko is wondering if he should go, or if he should fall asleep on the freezing ground that doesn't seem to be freezing at all, when Sokka walks into the living room in his baseball uniform. He has just returned from his morning summer practice; sweat is running down the side of his face, and his shirt is partly sticking to his body from the moisture. He smiles at everyone in greeting before gulping down all that's left of the water on the bottle of his hand. Zuko stares at his Adam's apple bob while he's drinking, and then his eyes trail the trickle of water that slides down his jaw over his desperation to drink all the water so fast. The drop goes down, down, down, dripping over his collarbone and sinking into his neck until it eventually gets lost somewhere inside his shirt. Sokka throws the bottle over the trash can and uses his shirt collar to wipe the water and some of his sweat off his face. Zuko's eyes unconsciously move downward; he can see a line of skin on Sokka's abdomen and stomach.

He swallows. Uh. His mouth is suddenly very dry. He's probably dehydrated. Is he dehydrated? He's starting to feel a little dizzy.

"So? Beloved friends, beloved little sister? Did you miss me? Obviously, you did."

Katara rolls her eyes, but still asks, "How was practice, dumbass?"

"It was cool! I hit twelve curve-balls in a row and sixteen of that weird fastball Suki pitches. Oh! And I'm finally getting the thing about that forkball. Also... woah, Zuko, are you okay?!"

Zuko blinks from where he was staring at Sokka's hair. It's kind of wet. Is that sweat? Shouldn't that be gross? Why is Zuko staring? Does he find it gross? He doesn't think so, but he also can't quite explain why...

"Woah, bud," Sokka says, kneeling in front of him and getting dangerously close to his face. "You're so red, are you having heatstroke or something? Do you feel dizzy?" He leans on his knees and presses a hand to his forehead, pulling up the bangs hanging over it. It feels nice, actually. Sokka's soft hand on his boiling skin feels like fresh water. He kind of wants to lean into it.

He probably does, because Sokka frowns. "Maybe you have a fever..." His mouth presses into a thin line. "Don't you want to take a shower to cool off? I can lend you some clothes, we're about the same height, they'll fit."

Zuko blinks. Huh?

"Here, let me help you." Sokka says, helping him up.

Around an hour later, Zuko feels a lot better, laying with his back on the floor in Sokka's baggy shorts and blue T-shirt with a cartoonish drawing of The Pink Panther. Zuko smiles involuntarily when he looks at it. It smells a bit like Sokka, or at least the detergent he uses. That makes his stomach do weird flips. He's not feeling that hot anymore, but maybe he is getting sick...

"Hey," Sokka tells him, looking at him from above, standing just behind Zuko's head. His toes are barely avoiding touching Zuko's sprawled hair on the floor.

"Hey," Zuko answers back, looking up at Sokka's soft face. His hair is down and still wet from the shower, and a few drops fall on the bridge of Zuko's nose when Sokka hovers over him. Zuko's face scrunches up, more out of involuntary reaction than out of bother, but Sokka chuckles.

"Sorry," he says, not sounding sorry at all. He uses the towel around his neck to messily dry his hair. "You look a lot better, now."

"Yes," Zuko muses, still a bit mesmerized by Sokka's wet hair. And Sokka's face. "Thanks."

Sokka grins brightly at him. "Sure."

He looks like he's about to say something else, but before he can say anything, Toph groans just a few feet away, sitting now on the couch. "Stop flirting and get a room already; it’s gross. We're here, too."

"What? We weren’t—"

Katara agrees, quietly.

"Hey! I was just worried!" Sokka excuses himself. "Weren't you all? His face was as red as a tomato."

Katara looks up from her magazine and gives him a pointed look, with one elegantly arched brow. Apparently, she doesn't even need to say anything else, because it's enough to make Sokka blush.

Oh.

He's cute, Zuko thinks. And then, oh, I think Sokka is cute. And then Sokka stomps over the kitchen muttering unintelligible things, still a faint blush over his cheeks.

Zuko smiles to himself watching his childish behavior. He is, though. He is cute.

It's raining heavily outside, drops pouring loudly against the asphalt of the sidewalk.

Zuko side-glances at Sokka. Maybe it's because after the course of a year, Zuko has learned to recognize many of Sokka's little gestures, or maybe it's the fact that the boy has been so much into his own mind lately, but Zuko recognizes that way he scrunches up his nose, that wrinkle between his eyebrows, that way his eyes twitch.

“Are you okay?”

He’s asking mostly just to be polite, to be honest; he already knows he’s not. He knows something’s up.

Sokka turns to look at him, and then stares at the rain hitting the glass window of the lonely teashop.

“I’m…” He says, and looks at his hand. Then he presses his mouth into a thin line.

“You don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Zuko says, awkwardly, because as much as he cares, he’s still a mess when it comes to social cues. He’s never going to stop being a mess. And terrible at comforting people.

Sokka sees right through him, though, like he always does, and smiles softly at him. His whole face mellows. It kind of makes Zuko’s heart flutter in his chest, like a butterfly flapping its wings.

“I’m…” Sokka tries again, looking at Zuko’s face. At his eyes, at his scar, at his neck. He feels weirdly exposed, but at the same time… He doesn’t. It’s just Sokka. Which means it’s okay. “Scared, I guess.”

Zuko blinks and tilts his head to the side. He’s not sure if he should ask, but…

“Of?”

Sokka gives him a wry smile.

“Of failing? Of disappointing my dad? Of not being enough? I don’t know, I can’t quite pick a single one.”

Sokka’s voice is not quite bitter, but it feels like that, in the air around them. Zuko knows the feeling pretty well.

“You are enough.” Zuko affirms, without a single trace of hesitation in his voice. Because Sokka is enough, in every single aspect, and he shouldn’t feel like any less than that. Zuko’s also aware of what he’s worrying about, and for Zuko, it’s just absurd—Sokka is one the very few people that shouldn’t worry about passing the entrance exam of college at all, he’s crazy smart. He should know that. But, to be fair, Zuko can’t judge him nor scold him for self-doubt when it used to be all that he was, along with his self-hate. So he says it out loud, looking into Sokka’s wide, surprised eyes. “You’re also really smart, Sokka, I’m sure you’re going to ace the entrance exam. You shouldn’t worry.”

Sokka rolls his eyes, but he also adopts that playful-kinda-flirty side of him. It’s painful because Zuko can see the sadness underlying in his voice and body language so clearly. Can see the lack of confidence in every single motion.

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“I am,” he agrees, “but it doesn’t mean it isn’t true. I really believe so. You’re the smartest person I know. You’re very capable of doing whatever you want, so have faith in yourself just like I have faith in you.”

Once he says it, and Sokka blinks once, twice, thrice at him, Zuko feels painfully aware (and painfully embarrassed) of what he just said.

Oh Lord, what did he actually…

“Ah,” Sokka says, and makes a face that Zuko can’t name. “You’re blushing.”

Zuko covers his cheeks with both hands. Sokka is probably right, they’re so warm, but still.

“I’m not.” Still.

Sokka laughs, and raises both eyebrows. “You sure?” He asks, staring pointedly at his face, which only makes him blush harder.

Stupid Sokka.

He must know the effect he’s having on him, because he laughs again, lightheartedly. Well, at least he’s not upset anymore…

“I’m not,” he uselessly and pathetically insists, even when it’s tragically obvious he is. But he has some pride, okay.

Sokka grins, but it’s all devilish. It makes Zuko’s hair stand on end. A chill runs down his spine.

“It’s just hot.”

Sokka smirks. “Sure, you’re always hot.”

“Shut up,” Zuko complains and groans, facing away from him so that he can’t see his blatant embarrassment. Sokka’s natural flirty personality wasn’t that much of a problem back then, but it’s only gotten worse, and Zuko just can’t handle it sometimes. It feels like way too much.

“Ah, but you blush when you’re embarrassed. That’s cute.” Sokka points out, a wide grin on his face. “Imagine being both cute and hot, what a crime.”

He sighs theatrically, and Zuko is very tempted to answer, “shut up, look who’s talking,” but he knows he will just get more embarrassed after saying that. He needs to calm down. So he just grumbles while Sokka laughs.

Then, when Sokka has already calmed down and Zuko can feel his face like normal again, they look quietly at the rain, steadily keeping its pace.

“Zuko,” Sokka says, after some time, and Zuko quirks an eyebrow in reply.

Sokka smiles. “Thank you. For believing me. It means a lot.”

Zuko smiles back. “Of course.”

Zuko notices it one night. (Though, looking back, it’s weird he didn’t notice it before.)

Well, more like, Aang notices and points it out, and then Zuko realizes that what he said is pathetically true, lying in bed at night because he still mulls things over sometimes before going to sleep.

“You know,” Aang had casually said, holding a can of orange juice, sitting next to Zuko on the bleachers at one of Sokka’s practice games. “You stare at Sokka a lot.”

Zuko frowned. “It’s his game, after all. We’re here to watch him,” he had retorted, like it was obvious.

“Well, yes, but I don’t mean only now. You stare at him all the time.”

Zuko didn’t feel like he liked where this conversation was going. Something about his expression must had given him away, or maybe Aang was just too good at reading him now, because he said:

“Wait.” He actually had sounded surprised. “You mean you’re not aware you have a crush on him?”

Zuko’s eyes went wide. “What? I don’t have a crush on him.”

Aang quirked up an eyebrow. Sure, he didn’t need to say.

“I don’t,” he had pressed on.

Aang hadn’t looked any more convinced of what he had said. If anything, he looked more convinced on what he himself had said. Aang had looked at him for a very long period of 1 minute before lightly chuckling and nudging him in the arm with his elbow, smiling brightly at him.

It was weird, but Zuko has gotten better at reading them, maybe just as much as Aang has with him. Maybe that’s why he knows what Aang means with all of that. Admit it when you’re ready.

It’s not like he was trying to deny or hide it. It’s not like he was trying to lie. He just didn’t think Aang was actually right.

But he is. Zuko can’t stop looking at Sokka, all the time. Thinking about him. About the way he smiles, with his hair up, with his hair down, with that denim jacket that fits him in all the right angles, with his baseball cap, ecstatic after he scored a run in the 8th inning.

Sokka, practicing on the field. Grinning widely and openly and hugging him tightly when he aced the entrance exam. Leaning in to taste Zuko’s ice-cream into his own mouth. Ruffling his own messy hair. Wearing those silly cartoon t-shirts. Serenading Zuko with Electric Love and the most ridiculous voice ever on his birthday as a joke. Messy eating. Scrunching up his nose while drinking green tea. Reciting 80% of the Star Wars dialogues by heart. Being obsessed with boomerangs and swords (though not as much as Zuko is with that last one). Biting into the end of his pencil when he’s focused on writing an English essay.

Ahhhhh.

Oh, holy honor.

He has a crush. A crush. Feelings.

When did that happen? Why did that happen? He doesn’t know. Was it because of his warm eyes? His pretty smile? His pretty lips? Was it because he opened up to Zuko, let himself be vulnerable around him, bled his heart out so Zuko could piece it back together? Was it because he’s funny? Charming? Cool? Smart? Astonishingly cute? Was it because he made Zuko feel made out of thin air, sometimes, so raw and exposed but yet so safe, so comfortable in his own skin? ...That is, the others don’t necessarily make him feel unsafe, or uncomfortable. He just feels like he can be all open and vulnerable with Sokka better. Maybe because he opened up to him first, about something so personal like his mom (and Zuko knew about losing a mom, too).

Well, whatever the reason, it doesn’t exactly matter, does it? He’s already in deep.

Zuko rolls over his stomach and sighs, groaning loud into his pillow. Why, why, why, why. It’s not like he even has a chance, so why did he have to…

Ugh.

Feelings are stupid. His heart is stupid.

And the way he falls asleep thinking about Sokka’s laugh is even stupider.

The thing is, because Zuko notices all the little details in Sokka’s gestures and behavior, he also notices the way he acts differently towards… Certain people.

“Me and Yue?” Sokka laughs, and Zuko blinks. He didn’t even mean to ask it out loud. Now, he would just hear the confirmation of what he already knew from Sokka’s lips. How is that any better? Good job, Zuko.

“Nah, man, Suki would kill me if she sees me wooing her girlfriend. Or at least kick me pretty damn hard.” Huh? Zuko blinks again. Huh? So they’re… Sokka and Yue… They’re not…

“And believe me, she’s super strong. She kicked me once and I’ve always regretted eating that last cupcake on the fridge.” Sokka makes a face and shudders, like the mere flashback is enough to make him fear. But then he smiles, in that soft way of his that makes Zuko’s knees go really weak. “And I’m pretty sure Yue is immensely happy with her, too.”

Zuko doesn’t know what to say, so he just oh-so-eloquently utters:

“Ah.”

Sokka seems amused.

“Didn’t you know they were a thing? The PDA is so strong when they’re together, you have to have seen it.”

Well, that was… Zuko just thought they were touchy with each other? Sokka is pretty much touchy with him all the time, but that doesn’t mean they’re a thing.

Well.

“That’s rough, buddy.”

Sokka blinks. “Why?”

Zuko frowns. He tilts his head in confusion. “Because you are… Romantically attracted to her? It must be rough.”

Sokka blinks once, twice, three times. Stares. Then, he throws his head back and cackles, clutching his stomach.

“Dude, what the hell.” He wheezes. “Just say the word crush like normal people.”

“Hmm.”

Then, when he calms down, Sokka eyes Zuko.

“Wait, what?” He says, serious all of a sudden. Or at least, surprised. “Do you really think that?” At Zuko’s lack of response, Sokka looks at him, then at his hands, then at the TV, where the video game they were playing is still on pause. Then, back at Zuko’s face. “No, I don’t have a crush on her. Or on Suki, for that matter.”

Zuko frowns. Sokka must know he doesn’t believe him, because he continues.

“I mean, I did.” He admits. “Back when I met her, when I was, like, 14. But I’m over it, now—Not that she’s not great; she’s awesome and I love her, just… Not in that way. It was just a silly teen-crush, anyway. And Suki is my best friend. We had a thing for a few months like two years ago, but we hit it off so much better as friends. She’s my bi icon, though. And bestest friend.”

“Oh.”

“Besides,” Sokka adds, and eyes him pointedly, “I’m interested in someone else right now.”

Zuko stares. Blinks.

What.

So he does have someone he’s interested in anyway. God, Zuko really doesn’t stand a chance. Why even bothering trying? And it’s not like he knows how to try something, anyway…

From the other corner of the room, Aang shoots him a very cryptic look. Zuko can’t describe what he’s thinking, but he guesses he’s taking pity on him. After all, he knows.

Ah. He really doesn’t like having feelings.

His mind is a cruel thing. It’s what keeps him up at night, what reminds him of all his insecurities, what makes him feel undeserving of love, what keeps throwing image after image into his head of his broken childhood on bad days. It’s what, as much as his heart, knows about his deepest desires, his longing, his yearning and thinks it’s amusing to play with Zuko for a bit.

“Zuko,” Sokka says, with a fragile smile on his face, his voice going ridiculously soft, his eyes warming up, and Zuko’s heart pounds on his chest like big waves crashing on the shore of a lonely beach. “Zuko, I love you.”

It’s kind of—very—criminal the way Sokka makes him feel. The way he makes Zuko’s heart seem like it’s going to burst out of his chest with how fast it beats after hearing just those three words, the way he makes Zuko’s entire soul ache and want, the way he makes him feel so grounded, so him, yet so tiny and delicate, like he’s made out of thin sheets of ice.

Is this how love feels?

Is this how it should feel like?

He wouldn’t know. He doesn’t know what falling in love is. He just knows a broken home, the destructive, neon-like, toxic obsession with power his dad had, instead of any tender form of anything else that can be called love that his dad should have had for his mom, but never did.

Falling in love is made to hurt. Falling in love is destined to make you feel sad, and alone, and unsafe.

Falling in love is a cruel thing. It’s not cut out for weak people, and Zuko is weak. He’s destined to break. He has always been made out of fragile, easy-to-destroy things.

That’s why his mind plays with him all the time.

He wakes up in his bed, opens his eyes to the dark quiet of his room, feels the way his heart beats so hard that he can almost feel it on his throat. And he feels lost. And sad.

He doesn’t even scream. He just lies there, feeling the world becoming smaller, feeling himself becoming smaller.

Lord, he’s royally fucked. Screwed. He knows. He’s destined to break.

There’s something so tragically painful about falling in love, they say.

He’s sitting with Toph leaning back on his right side, on the fluffy couch in Katara and Sokka’s living room, cutting up squares out of colorful paper.

They are both terrible in the kitchen. Something coming from being rich kids, Sokka playfully teased earlier. And he guesses it’s true. Either way, they are terrible—Zuko even burned his own kitchen once while making scrambled eggs (and that was. Not a very good day). Sure, he has tried to help Uncle Iroh a couple of times, and he knows a bit of the basics, but besides preparing tea, he’s lost. He can’t cook to save his life. So when Zuko almost lights a fire to bake cookies and mixes up the recipe for the second time, Katara kicks them out and bans them from the kitchen for the next 4 hours. Toph protests just to be annoying—she doesn’t like cooking at all, she has told him, but she loves annoying Katara, it’s her favorite idle activity. Zuko would be offended, but it’s the smartest choice if they want to finish baking Aang’s birthday cake without setting the kitchen on fire, so it’s fine.

Besides, this way he can steal a few glances at Sokka, as he hangs up the decorations he and Toph are making. The muscles under his shirt flex when he raises his arms above his head, his messy hair down from its ponytail, falling over his face when he moves a bit to the left, a line of the smooth skin of his back making its way to Zuko's curious, avid eyes.

Zuko swallows.

Toph sighs heavily and throws her head back. “So, are you planning to make a move any time this century or are you a loser?”

Zuko eyes her, coming out of his stupor, confused. “What?”

Toph smirks. “Right, you’re always a loser, my bad.”

Zuko blinks. Not because of Toph calling him a loser, but because, for a second, he really doesn’t get what she means.

Then, when he does, he buries his face into his hands and groans.

“Even you know?”

Toph laughs. "Yes, idiot, it's stupidly obvious.” She pats his arm. “I can see it and I'm blind, you know."

Zuko groans again. He’s in physical pain right now. "How?"

She shrugs. "I don’t know. Maybe the way you say his name. Or talk about him."

Zuko feels a bit of panic.

What? Is he that obvious? How does he say Sokka’s name?

"His name?"

"Yeah,” Toph confirms, nodding exaggeratedly, “stupidly sappy. It's gross."

"Oh my god."

She laughs again, loudly, because his suffering is apparently amusing. "You also talk about him a lot," she chuckles, "and sigh every time you see him. At least that’s what I assume, given that he’s in the room and you keep sighing like a 12-year-old girl in love. Pinning all the way.”

Zuko wants to die. He seriously wants to die. Maybe he should just tell Sokka he likes him, so when he rejects him, Zuko can just die a quick, albeit painful, death.

Toph nudges at his arm, with her typical abnormal strength for someone her age, but she doesn’t mean any harm. “So?” She asks, again. “Are you planning to make a move or not?"

Zuko sighs, "I can't do anything, he likes someone else."

Toph kind of stops where she’s fumbling with a couple of paper sheets. She then turns around and makes this face, where she’s scrunching up her nose and frowning like she just smelled something sour, or like when she’s deeply confused. "Did he say that?"

"Yes."

"Did Sokka seriously tell you that?"

Zuko’s confused at Toph’s relentless insistence. "...Yes?"

Toph’s face goes back to normal, but there’s something about the way she continues to hum that makes it seem like she still thinks Zuko is an alien, or something.

"You must have misunderstood him—which wouldn’t be a surprise, to be honest." She says the last part in a whisper, but he still hears her. That’s probably what she wanted anyway, but it’s not like he gets it. What does that mean? Zuko gets Sokka. That’s one of the few things he’s really proud of. Did he just think that he got Sokka while, all this time, he actually didn’t?

No. He understands Sokka. Sokka himself has told him that.

"No, I didn't. And I don't have a chance if he likes someone else, so I might as well not even try."

Toph looks mad. "You're super pessimistic, dumbass."

"Hmm."

She sighs, looking deeply tired and frustrated, like Zuko has completely worn her out. Then, she raises her fist and punches him. Hard.

Ouch.

Zuko yelps, and rubs at his sore arm. “What was that for?” he grumbles.

She frowns. “To punch some sense into you, big oblivious idiot!" Toph hums a low, guttural sound in the back of her throat, like she’s a feral dog trying to threaten a pedestrian. “Just try, at least. Everyone is kind of getting tired of your pinning, too."

"Ah." Everyone?

"Full offence."

"Ah."

“Even Katara. The only reason she hasn’t intervened yet is because she says it’s not her business to push you, but I don’t think her reasoning is gonna last long.”

Katara too!? Oh, no.

Zuko seriously wants to die.

Eventually, things go on.

Zuko’s “crush” doesn’t go away. If anything, it just grows and grows and grows until it becomes almost unbearable. But he still can’t say anything.

“Zuko.”

“Hmm?”

“You know,” Sokka says, looking at him with feign innocence, sitting with his hands upwards behind him in Zuko’s room, “that looks heavy, want me to hold it for you?”

Zuko frowns. He looks up from his work to give Sokka a confused look. “What is, my pen?”

Sokka gives him that little, playful smile—the one that is so incredibly hot for some reason Zuko can’t understand. His eyes gleam, even more than they do all the time.

“Nope,” he says, and his smile grows an inch, “your hand.”

Zuko blinks. Sokka flirting with him is nothing new, that’s why he manages to hold back his blush a bit and remain calm, even when he’s a bit dying inside.

He is just trapped between telling him, “god, I wish you were flirting with me for real,” and, “please stop doing it, it’s not good for my heart,” and, “If only you knew how much I really want to hold your hand”, but neither of those options are actually. Something viable.

“Are you flirting with me?” He asks instead, knowing the answer already.

Sokka would laugh, brush it off, and say something like, “ah, but you didn’t blush this time,” and let it go.

He doesn’t, though.

What he does, instead, is shrug and look at Zuko’s textbook, like he’s completely uninterested in the conversation.

Huh.

But then he speaks up again.

“Have been for the past year and a half or so, but thanks for noticing.” He answers.

Zuko blinks. He’s tempted to answer, “yeah, I know, which is a cruel, cruel thing to do, by the way, given how my heart just wants to escape out of my chest and go with you every time you do it,” or something equally playful to play it down like they always tend to do, but… for some reason, this time it feels… Real.

Maybe he should just laugh.

He doesn’t, though, and, “What?” is what comes out of his mouth.

Sokka looks up. “I said that I’ve been doing it for a year and a half or so, thank you for finally noticing.”

Zuko doesn’t understand. He’s not following the conversation at all. “Wait.”

“Ahh,” Sokka sighs, “honestly, if you didn’t notice by the end of the month, I would have felt deeply embarrassed. I was starting to think I lost my charm and I didn’t know how to flirt.”

“Well, that was a terrible pick-up line,” Zuko can’t help but retort, and like he wasn’t mildly-insulted, Sokka grins at him.

“But it worked for you, didn’t it?” He teases, leaning on Zuko’s personal space, “it made you feel something.”

Zuko frowns. “How would you know?”

Sokka stares. “Your face.”

“My face?”

“I can see it. In your face.”

Zuko covers his mouth, frowning. He can feel his own heart race.

Sokka is still way too close.

“You can…?”

“Yup.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Zuko says, blinking. “That means—are you—are you flirting with me? For real?”

Sokka quirks both eyebrows. “Yes...?”

“But you—you…”

“Zuko, I don’t know where you got the idea, but I don’t flirt with anyone aside from you—at least, I haven’t done it in a long time. So yes, I am actually flirting with you.”

Zuko feels like he just got hit in the head. “Why?”

Sokka blinks. “Because I want to?”

“But why do you want to?”

Sokka shoots him a look. “Zuko,” he says, slowly, “I like you. I thought that was obvious already.”

Zuko blinks. “You have… romantic feelings for me?”

Sokka laughs, amused. “Yeah, Zuko, I have ‘romantic feelings’ for you.”

Zuko blinks again. He’s blinking too much. “So all this time… it was real… when you said… and that time you also said… and… oh.”

Sokka smiles, softly, and ruffles Zuko’s hair. It makes him blush. His heart might also not even work at this point, if it wasn’t for the fact that he can clearly hear it thundering in his ears.

Why is Sokka so calm? Zuko’s about to pass out.

“Katara is right, I’m dumb.”

Sokka grins. “Toph thinks so, too.”

“Toph thinks everyone is dumb.”

“Fair,” Sokka answers; he’s still grinning so wide. God, Sokka is so pretty. “Though I think she only calls us dumb, not that she means it.”

“Mmm.”

He’s so unfairly distracting, too. Zuko can’t stop looking at him.

“Wait,” He says, suddenly realizing something, “so you knew that I—that I—had feelings for you, too?”

Sokka looks at his lips when he talks, and Zuko has to concentrate hard to not straight up pass out from shock and his heart racing so fast it might give him an attack. Has he done that before? He would have noticed, right? Sure, Zuko looks at Sokka’s lips a lot instead than at his eyes, but he would have noticed if Sokka did it, too.

… Right?

He’s starting to feel dizzy. Is he dreaming? Is any of this real at all?

“Noticed it a while ago, yeah. That’s why I’m not freaking out that you noticed my flirting 100 years later.”

For a moment, Zuko is able to set aside his internal emotional turmoil and state of panic, if only to complain.

“Hey!” He frowns. “Wait—”

“You have said that a lot.”

“Wait,” Zuko repeats, just to be annoying, “if you… liked me, and knew that I liked you back, why didn’t you… make a move?”

“Like asking you out? I tried to, but you’re too oblivious.”

“Huh?” Zuko utters. What does that even mean? He’s not—well, he is, maybe, just a bit, but. “Well, if you knew that, you could have been more straightforward, you know!”

Sokka smiles, then shrugs.

“I guess we’re both dumb.”

Zuko feels his lips curling up, not able to contain all his happiness anymore, his brain catching up with the last 20 minutes of his life.

Holy shit, Sokka likes him. Sokka likes him. Him. Zuko. As in, romantically speaking.

Oh.

“I like you, Zuko.” Sokka says, as if Zuko’s brain didn’t shut down already. He reaches out and slides his hand on the table Zuko was previously working, the tip of his fingers touching Zuko’s. “So can I finally, please hold your hand?”

Zuko might pass out for real, but before that, he finally, finally, finally takes Sokka’s hand into his own.

It feels even better than in his dreams.

He feels like burning up, like all of his body is setting itself on fire.

Sokka’s hand is warm, so warm, and soft, so soft, and makes Zuko’s heart flutter like delicate flower’s petals in the wind.

Sokka’s thumb brushes over his knuckles; Sokka’s lips turn into a bright smile, like he’s been wanting to do that since forever.

It feels like home.

When they tell their friends they’re dating, Yue is the first one to say something.

“You mean you weren’t dating before?”

“Shocking, right,” Katara deadpans, but then she smiles, genuine. “I’m happy for both of you.”

(Although remembering that minutes later doesn’t make her any less scary, when she decides to corner him out of the bathroom and put a steady hand on his shoulder, feign-sweet smile on her face, and say with a weirdly off-calm voice that, if he ever dared to hurt Sokka on purpose, she was going to break all the 206 bones on his body.)

Toph grins brightly and kicks him enthusiastically on the side with a loud “Well-done, loser!” while Aang jumps on Zuko’s back and clings to him like a koala.

“That’s awesome, guys! Be happy!”

Zuko smiles.

“Finally, I won’t have to hear Sokka’s pinning all the time,” Suki quips, like she’s tired and utterly uninterested, but even the happiness is evident in her voice.

Sokka still complains. “Hey! I had to hear you be head-over-heels for Yue for months, too.”

“It wasn’t months for you, though.” Suki deadpans, but then her face goes all soft, “I’m kidding, So, I’m really happy for you two.”

Sokka smiles, and she gets up from where she’s cuddling Yue on the sofa to hug Sokka tightly, grinning wide, and then look at Zuko (stumbling with a happily laughing Aang on his back and Toph annoyingly ruffling his hair like a proud little sister) and whispers something in Sokka’s ear.

Zuko is glad that he’s still looking at Sokka from the corner of his eye, because he catches him blushing after that.

He’s cute.

Suki laughs. Sokka frowns, still blushing, and when he catches Zuko watching, he blushes harder.

He’s really cute.

Zuko smiles softly, and Sokka blinks, once, twice, before smiling back.

The cutest.

“Zuko.”

Zuko hums, but doesn’t look up from his work.

“Zukoooo, darling, love of my life.”

Zuko is used to it by now. To Sokka calling him pet-names like those. Of hearing Sokka say he’s cute, or hot, or smart, or witty, or pretty. It still makes his heart flutter, though. Just as Sokka’s laugh does. It still makes him blush sometimes.

(It’s funny because Sokka is the same way—or mostly the same. Zuko said he looked really hot after a baseball game once and Sokka almost died on the spot. He blushed like mad, but after he calmed down, he couldn’t stop bragging about Zuko calling him ‘hot’.

“Look at you, flirting shamelessly with me! You’re all grown up!” and, “I shouldn’t be near Zuko if I’m wearing my baseball uniform, he’ll get a boner,” and a lot of more phrases.)

“Hm?”

“You are—” Sokka sing-songs, and crosses his arms over Zuko’s textbook. He puts his chin over his forearms and looks up at Zuko’s face, grinning, and Zuko would probably be a bit annoyed that he’s not letting him finish his essay if it weren’t for the fact that he’s Sokka. His, ahem, boyfriend.

“I am…?”

“You are,” he repeats, and his smile grows bigger. Zuko thinks about kissing him; Zuko thinks about kissing him all the time. But, to be fair, he used to dream about that, just as much as he used to dream about them holding hands. And just as if he read Zuko’s mind, Sokka reaches out and holds his right hand; gently, like all of Sokka’s touches. It feels so nice, Zuko never wants to let go. “You are pulchritudinous.”

Eh?

Zuko tries to smile, but Sokka looks at him like he’s looking at a cute baby and throws his head back, still close and still holding his hand.

“You’re adorable.”

“What…?” Zuko is sure he looks as puzzled as he feels; he once caught his reflection in the mirror while playing Scrabble with Sokka and therefore knows how he must look. For some reason, Sokka finds it extremely cute. “What does that mean?”

Sokka laughs again.

Zuko narrows his eyes into slits. Or, maybe Sokka’s just making fun of him. (Not in a bad way, of course, Zuko knows. Sokka never means any harm, but he sure as hell loves teasing Zuko all the time.)

“Are you insulting me?”

Sokka wipes tears from his eyes and looks at Zuko with such a sweet face that it kinda makes Zuko stumble, even when he’s sitting.

His heart flutters alive, his face grows warm. He wants to kiss Sokka.

Sokka does, though, pulling gently at his hand and softly pressing his lips into Zuko’s wrist. He grins up at him.

“You’re adorable.”

(Later, when he’s waiting for a toast on Uncle Iroh’s kitchen, still barefoot, decked out in his pajamas and half-asleep, he finally finds what he thinks is the correct word using the search function of his phone—after 20 lame attempts of trying and failing at remembering—and pronouncing correctly—the right word.

He clicks on the dictionary tab, reads over the meaning, stumbles over, slips and falls flat on his ass.

He almost sets his kitchen on fire for the second time.)

Zuko is bad at flirting. He knows. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t try, hard, and sometimes, sometimes, he succeeds (conscious and unconsciously).

Or maybe Sokka is just too easy to fluster (even when Sokka says it’s the other way around; even when that’s actually, probably, just a bit, true.)

Either way, Zuko basks happily in seeing Sokka get all flustered. It makes him even cuter than he already is.

(Whipped, Toph would draw out, mockingly sing-song.

And, well, maybe he is.)

Kissing Sokka is like setting himself on fire. Like burning up alive, but not in the bad sense. Not in the way he was burned as a little kid.

Kissing Sokka is like sitting near a campfire when you’re feeling cold; like standing on the edge of a cliff, feeling your chest contract; like tucking yourself in a warm blanket, with fuzzy socks and drinking your favorite drink, while hearing your favorite song. It’s like waking up on a good day, like basking in the sun at twilight, like taking a warm shower after a long day.

He feels too much, way too overwhelmed, even with just a brush of lips.

Kissing Sokka is a blessed thing.

There’s something that comes alive in his chest at the same time their lips touch. It blossoms under his ribcage, spreads over his chest, warms up all the way up to his throat. Beating, growing, marveling in every fiber of his being. Maybe that’s what love is—maybe that’s what Zuko has been searching for all this time; this connection, this overwhelming feeling, this deep, raw, unfiltered emotion, coming off him through waves of desperation for more.

He can’t be sure. But even if it wasn’t something he has looked out for, the discovery of it still feels like a sacred thing.

It’s like watching cherry blossoms falling on the street for the first time, like falling asleep on the comfortable side of your bed after a tiring day, it’s coming back home—or to what home should feel like.

It’s something delicate, at first. Zuko doesn’t have any experience, so he just lets himself feel as Sokka presses his lips softly into his own, carding his long fingers into Zuko’s hair.

Zuko feels an electric chill run down his spine, where Sokka’s fingertips—from the hand that’s not on his hair—make a slow path down. He can feel them burning, even through his clothes, even when Sokka’s hand is not that warm.

But it feels like that.

Zuko breathes shakily, moves his lips experimentally, feeling Sokka’s smile against his mouth.

He wants to do something, so he leans in, feeling Sokka’s eyelashes tickling his cheekbones, feeling Sokka’s thumb under his jaw, angling his head in a better position, feeling himself become aflame. He wants to touch Sokka. He really wants to touch Sokka.

So he does.

He uses one hand to gently touch Sokka’s wrist—the one Sokka’s using to keep Zuko’s head up—and, carefully, tentatively, he wraps his fingers around it, caresses the skin like he wants to print a topographic map of it into his mind.

Sokka makes a low, appreciative sound, and Zuko feels so happy it should be embarrassing.

Sokka has his hair down, and Zuko wants to touch it so much because he loves Sokka’s hair. Sokka’s hair is so pretty—Sokka is so pretty—so he goes for it. He brushes his fingers on Sokka’s shoulder, touches the strands of brown hair that lie there, moves his fingers to the nape of his neck. Zuko does this slowly, he wants to feel everything and he’s not going to rush, not after how long he’s wanted this.

He cradles his head with his hand, touches and touches and touches. He pulls at his hair, lightly, and his hand goes down just a bit; the skin of Sokka’s neck under his fingertips is warm, and so soft. He can feel the gentle echo of his heartbeat thundering in the tender curve of his jaw.

Just then, Sokka’s thumb brushes on his bare clavicle, and Zuko hisses, feeling like he’s on fire. Feeling like he’s become burning embers.

It’s just—too much, and at the same time, not enough—he wants more.

He has always been sensitive, but it’s different now. It’s like all his senses are turned on—he’s hyper-aware of everything around him—of Sokka’s hands, of Sokka’s steady, fast heartbeat under his open palm, of Sokka’s smell, of Sokka’s warm mouth, of Sokka’s soft skin, of the way Sokka keeps mumbling his name, softly against his lips or when he breaks apart to breath. He touches Sokka’s face, Sokka’s arms, Sokka’s neck; breathes his name into his own mouth, makes sure Sokka knows how much he wants this, how much he’s dreamed of this: of kissing him, of him kissing him back.

It feels too good to be even real—just as Sokka always makes him feel, even when they’re not kissing.

He might as well die there.

It wouldn’t be a bad way to go, though.

Linked, bare soul to bare soul, with the prettiest, smartest, kindest boy he’s ever met.

There’s something so tragically painful about falling in love, they say. But as he sees Sokka laughing in front of him because of some ridiculous joke Toph made, holding Zuko’s hand like it’s the most precious thing in the world, he can’t help but think that falling in love is anything but painful.

Sokka turns around, catches him staring and grins, playfully wiggling his eyebrows.

Zuko smiles, thinking just how much he loves Sokka, how much he loves his life, how much he loves his uncle, how much he loves his friends, how much he loves being alive, being there, curled up with Sokka on his couch, watching a stupid rom-com movie on Sokka’s cell-phone screen, sharing earphones with his boyfriend. Being there, in the house that he shares with his uncle—his real dad—in the house that he has come to call home. Being there, feeling safe in Sokka’s arms, with Toph hearing music on the TV, while Aang and Katara and Suki and Yue sleep, sprawled there and there all over his living-room.

“I love you,” Zuko tells Sokka, like he just revealed the biggest secret of the universe.

Love.

He feels the word on his tongue, and it tastes sweet. It tastes like the color of Sokka’s eyes, like the tone of Sokka’s laugh, like all of Sokka’s smiles—the gentle one, the soft one, the playful and flirty one, the wide one—all of them. Love tastes like Sokka holding his hand while they go for a walk, like Sokka’s voice when he talks about what he likes, like Sokka’s proud eyes after scoring a run, after Zuko shows him his grades. It tastes like a lot of things he can’t name, like the way Sokka says his name, like the way Sokka makes him feel, like that little mole under Sokka’s jaw, like the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles with the setting sun of the beach, like the way his fingertips feel against Zuko’s neck. Like the way he looks at Zuko like he’s not broken, like he’s the best thing that ever existed, like his scar is beautiful and all of Zuko’s failures don’t matter to him because he’s him, and that is enough. Like Zuko is more than enough, and how he loves that he’s more than enough to Zuko, too.

“I love you,” Zuko says again, in a low voice, and it feels real. It has meaning. It’s not an empty word at all.

For some reason, he feels like tearing up a bit.

Sokka’s face mellows, softens; he brushes his thumb under Zuko’s left eye, just at the edge of his scar, and his eyes become impossibly warm. Zuko wants to kiss all of his face; he wants to taste all of Sokka’s softness on his own lips.

There, in the quiet of Zuko’s living-room, Sokka smiles, and Zuko thinks he’s the most bewitching, stunning, ineffably beautiful being.

It feels like something ethereal. Sokka smiles and Zuko feels blessed to exist.

“I love you, too,” Sokka answers, like he’s sharing one of the secrets of the universe, too, like he’s never told anyone anything more true, and ever so gentle.

Zuko smiles and kisses him.

Falling in love is a blessed thing.

#zukka #zukka fic #atla #avatar the last airbender #my writing #... this is my contribution to the atla/zukka fandom #please let me know what do you think in the comments/tags/ao3!!!!!!!!#have a lovely day and thanks for reading :')

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barryjeanblues · 5 years ago

Text

taako meets death (again)

(also posted to my ao3)

taako has met two raven queens in his life before now.

well, close enough, at least. most - though not all - of the worlds the starblaster had traveled to had gods, and surprisingly enough, those gods were usually - though not always - strikingly similar to their homeworlds gods. (this was useful, because one of the crews number relied very heavily on a certain nature god for his magic. luckily, the nature or life god of each world always seemed to have a soft spot for little old merle, even if they werent merles traditional cloven-hoofed pan.)

twice, taako had met the death god - someone equivalent to faeruns raven queen.

this had led to taakos understandable trepidation upon kravitz finally putting his foot down and insisting taako meet his mother boss.

the first time taako had met a raven queen, she had been… overwhelming. the light of creation had fallen into a forest dedicated to her and her followers, and the head acolyte refused to give the wandering crew the light unless they first received permission from the queen.

the crew had agreed, with no other option, bracing themselves to firmly explain the direness of the situation. surely a goddess would be intelligent enough to understand.

that raven queen had burst into a forest cleaning in an explosion of black feathers, half illusion, half steel, so that when lup brushed the smoky feathers from her eyes they blurred and dissipated, but when magnus tried the same thing he yelped and brought his hand back bleeding.

that raven queens laughter had been eerie and echoing, almost but not quite mocking, almost but not quite infectious, almost but not quite joyous. the crew had stood firm and offered their argument, and the queen had given them tests and tokens and bargains and tricky promises with too many clauses and loopholes and at the end of it all the ipres numbers had been halved and the rest were weary and worn as they caught the light of creation and fled with only minutes to spare, the faelike laughter of death following them terribly even through the overwhelming cacophony of the hungers assault.

that laughter had trailed after them longer, if only in their heads. taako would be making stir fry, planning outfits, swapping merles shampoo for hair-loss potions, when hed have to sit down suddenly and breathe through the musical trills of the raven queens cruel pleasure. it had seemed to bounce in his head the way a rubber ball might, ricocheting off thoughts and feelings until it rolled under a couch to be forgotten about, till some slight movement sent it rolling and bouncing about once more.

davenport had died in an illusion, thinking he was saving his crew. poor merle had been choked by his own plants, betrayal writ across hos face. barrys skin had grown sickly purple with poison - ten to one odds arent very good odds. taako doesnt forget easily. he decides the goddess of death can go fuck herself.

the second raven queen taako had met much later in their journey, and taako had met her alone.

lup and barry had become liches a few cycles back. it was something taako had still been coming to terms with.

taako loves lup. this is an immutable fact of any and every universe. taako loves lup and lup loves taako and not death or memory or space can separate them, not for long. but seeing your sister die, and then… go beyond death, to twist herself and latch on to a chance that she may never return except in madness and spite - thats a hard thing to grasp, even when she succeeds. taako had still found himself shivering when his sister forgot she had a body again and grabbed a hot pan off the stove, crying out in pain. taako still woke sweating from nightmares in which his sister and his friend flew apart and reformed as cackling red robed horrors of insanity and cruelty, too far for him to reach.

until that cycle, though, barry and lups choice had only been an asset.

but some raven queens do not take kindly to anything they see as a perversion of their domain.

barely a week into that cycle, taako had awoken from the guilty non-elven pleasure of a nap only to find himself in some cold, hard court, fashioned seemingly of steel and silver and concrete, onyx lining the floor and the only color coming from sparse sapphires sparkled throughout the long echoing hall.

at the end of it - and taako had known his eyes must have played tricks on him, because at first the being at the end of the hall seemed, while large, not much larger than a giant, but when hed called a nervous greeting his voice had echoed so awfully he knew the hall stretched much farther than hed thought and the goddess at the end of it must have been unimaginably huge.

her eyes had glinted a flinty sapphire in her carven steel face when she ordered him to defend the existence of his sister and his sisters lover.

taako had tried. he truly, truly had. but while taako is a being of preservation and caution, full of intelligence and cleverness, he is not one of cold hard logic. perhaps lucretia could have convinced this raven queen, the only of their number who had ever been able to grasp true hard reason… but taako doubts it. he had doubted it then and he doubts it even more these days.

the point is, taako, for all his love for his family and his brilliant wit and devotion (probably, in fact, because of it) taakos arguments couldnt convince that raven queen. she saw past his genuine belief that lup and barry had made a good decision, and into his fears for her, and the goddess of death had based her own argument on those. she won. taako never had a chance.

he, lup, and barry had woken up in the next cycle, newly resurrected. taako never stops feeling guilty about it.

so. yes.

taako is more than a little nervous about meeting the goddess his boyfriend serves so devotedly. but, and youd be hard pressed to convince him to admit it, taako would do anything for kravitz. and despite it all he does actually want to see what the deal is with his sister and his best friends boss, and his patron gods… friend? lover? girlfriend? taako isnt quite sure what fate and death are to each other, but its definitely something.

kravitz lays a warm hand on taakos shoulder, but taako squares them up. he can do this, for fucks sake - hes died a shitton of times, he can meet death.

the doors open and taakos breath - the only breath in this realm of the dead - catches in his throat.

taako is a die hard istus fan, and shell always be his goddess. but if taako wasnt a taken elf, hed follow the raven queen, he realizes with a startle.

shes beautiful, yes. shes gorgeous, and taakos always been weak for beauty, but hers isnt the cold hard beauty of gemstones and gold, thinks his nimble fingers snatch up and hoard in his endless pockets. the raven queen is beautiful in a way that taako cant describe as anything other than simple.

he cant pin down any features. she has a kind face, gentle hands, bright eyes, but taako can tell she is a goddess because despite staying still the image of her flicks and shifts in his head. at once she seems to have every kind face hes ever seen, even if he doesnt recognize anyone. her hands reach out to comfort him - no more than comfort - but she stands without moving in front of taako and kravitz. her eyes glitter and sparkle and crinkle up with cheerful laughter, except taako isnt entirely sure she has eyes at all, or maybe she has too many.

he thinks… he thinks maybe she has wings, or maybe theyre arms, or maybe theyre black fabric, draped around and behind and below and above her, shifting with the last breaths of every mortal in the universe. its darkness but its not scary, taako realizes, its solacing, healing, the way that he feels when dusk passes to night and the sky is huge and warm and the brush of lups hand against his as she says goodbye for the night is a relief and a love.

hello, taako, death says. its lovely to meet you.

she means it, taako knows. he can tell, somehow. shes just happy to meet him. nothing more, nothing less.

'oh,' taako says aloud, and kravitz laughs his quiet sweet dorky laugh, and the raven queen laughs too, and its just that. its just a laugh, and its a nice one.

'oh indeed,' kravitz says. 'taako, did you really think id serve a monster or a cruel master?'

'well,' taako replies hesitantly, 'honestly, homie, i kind of thought you were, and id, like, have to start some quest to slay death itself and rescue you.'

the anthropomorphic personification of death laughs again, a note of delight in her tender voice. i like him, my kravitz, she says, good job.

kravitz does the dead-reaper equivalent of blushing. taako grins a little because its very cute.

'death is different here,' taako hums. 'its… it wasnt like this anywhere else i went. it was cold, or cruel, or empty. i dunno why its different in your world.'

'then i guess we're the lucky ones, huh?' kravitz asks. taako leans up against him and murmurs an agreement. 'its why i love my job so much, why it means so much to me. its not that im some hardass, i just…'

'yea, cha'boy gets it now,' assures taako. 'still.' he looks at the ever-shifting, ever-stable face of death again. 'you better treat my boy kravitz and my lady istus well, capiche? or we will have issues.'

its a deal, taako, the raven queen says, smiling.

when taako opens his eyes, hes in his home in the material plane, and kravitz is next to him, and theyre both smiling.

#this is unedited and also i wrote it at 4am #taako #kravitz #taakitz #the raven queen #taz balance #the adventure zone balance #fanfiction #death tw #trigger warning for death because it is a fic about the goddess of death #and also taako mentions some times that they died before story and song (so they dont count)#m text #fic #text #ask to tag #o shit yea and its lowkey lowkey inspired by gaimans death because i like the idea of a nice death

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missionkitty · 5 years ago

Text

Obey Me! - The Stars Are Closer (Belphegor/Reader)

(mama’s got quite a few fluffy, sfw obey me! gender-neutral reader fics up her sleeve, babey. while they’re all up on ao3 under the same handle, i’ll post them here when i finish an illustration for each one. for now, enjoy belphie.)

You've secretly taken up stargazing during your time in the Devildom to keep your homesickness at bay, but your first earnest attempt at identifying constellations gets cut short by an unexpected visit by the Avatar of Sloth to the planetarium.

However, you quickly come to find that you enjoy Belphegor's quiet company and steadily discover that the two of you have something important in common with each other.

Takes place after Chapter 18.

You sat idly in the planetarium in the House of Lamentation, books and dark maps all scattered around you on the floor. You quickly realized that maybe bringing all these supplementary materials to stargaze was a bit advanced for you at the moment.

You pondered for a moment how you would explain to Satan about how you didn't really get much use out of all these books for this session of stargazing, but shrugged your shoulders and started collecting everything into a stack.

It wasn't like you wanted to be some kind of astronomer. You just felt a little more at home looking up at the perpetually-starry sky of the Devildom. However, it was quickly evident that it wasn't the same sky as the human realm, though as you thought about it, it seemed pretty obvious that would be the case.

After all, you were supposedly at least seven dimensions away from your human home.

There were no dippers, large or small, and no ever-vigilant North Star--which is why you thought it might be nice to have maybe a constellation or two to identify during your time in the Devildom.

You glanced back at the stack of books and maps, pursing your lips.

After a moment, you pulled a map from under a book and carefully opened it again. You stared at it, trying to silently pronounce some of the names written under certain groups of stars. Alloces, Forneus, Glasya-Labolas, all names you had never heard of…until you saw Lucifer written in fancy script. You cocked an eyebrow and chuckled--wondering if maybe you had missed six other familiar names.

You started rereading the map when you heard footsteps coming up the stairs to the planetarium, and quickly set it down to gather everything and leave.

You weren't eager to admit it, but you didn't want the others to know you were spending so much time staring at the stars because you were homesick.

"Oh, hey," a lazy voice greeted you.

You turned around to see Belphegor standing in the entrance to the planetarium, his expression its usual slightly-unimpressed.

You whirled back to continue collecting the stack of books, more than eager to leave the planetarium now. Of all the brothers, Belphie was the one you definitely didn't feel comfortable sharing your homesickness with.

Of course, things were mostly patched up between you and him, but that didn't take away the memory of his anger toward you and all humans.

"Sorry, I was just finishing up," you quickly replied, picking up the stack of books and maps in your arms. Belphie looked at you, no apparent change in his expression, as you scurried past him. "It's all yours!" You added with a quick glance and weak smile.

He said nothing in reply, and you hustled down the stairs to return everything to Satan.

You'd try identifying constellations another time, when you were sure you'd be alone.

***

It was a few days before you were finally able to return to the planetarium alone. There had been a few times where you had gone up, map tucked under your arm, but Belphie was already there. You quietly snuck away before your presence was known, disappointed that you couldn’t just watch the stars in solitude, but grateful you wouldn’t have to offer any awkward explanations to Belphie.

However, it was a weeknight, and presumably everyone was busy with homework. You figured that you would get ahead of the curve and do yours during class time to take advantage of the hopefully-empty planetarium--and your preparation had paid off.

At last, you reclined in a chair at the edge of the planetarium and set your map in front of you. Satan was nice enough to let you have the map, and you had taken the time to read the names during your free time. Curiously enough, Lucifer’s name was the only one you recognized on the map, and while you wanted to know why he was the only one who seemed to have his own constellation, you didn’t dare risk revealing your secret hobby.

You decided that his constellation would be the first one you’d try to find, and you looked up through the ceiling of the planetarium, watching the ethereal stars that twinkled in different colors above you.

You could only search in silence for a moment when you heard a voice call out behind you.

“Finally,” Belphie said with a sigh.

You whirled around, shocked at his quiet entrance and felt yourself blush.

“Look, I know you’ve been avoiding me,” he continued, walking up to you. “I know you’ve tried to come up here a few times while I was here.”

You could feel the heat from your cheeks start traveling to your neck and ears as he pulled out the chair across from you and sat down. He set a map down on the table in front of the two of you and curiously stared at you.

“You left this behind the last time you were up here…” he said in a gentle voice, resting his arms and head on the table. He tilted his head to the side, looking up at you from under his lashes.

Your heart started pounding heavily, looking back at him for what felt like an eternity. In your panic, you found yourself somehow focused on the remarkably delicate-looking features of his face. As he patiently watched you, you noticed how long his eyelashes were and how they made his curious gaze somewhat alluring. His face was quite boyish, and his rather unkempt hairstyle gave him the appearance of innocence. Though you had made a pact with him, there was a part of you that remembered his youthful face twisted into a horrific smile as he struck you down in cold blood.

“I know that you still find it hard to trust me,” Belphie said with a sigh, closing his eyes. “Not that I blame you.”

You felt yourself starting to sweat a bit as you moved your gaze to the map you apparently left behind.

You wanted to bring yourself to trust Belphie, you did, but...your mind was still scarred by that night.

“I’m...stargazing,” you blurted out, much to your own surprise.

Belphie’s eyes flew back open as you spoke, apparently not expecting you to respond. His purple-and-pink eyes sparkled curiously at you.

“It’s different from the human realm, huh?” He asked, his voice lilting slowly. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen the sky there.”

You nodded quietly, deciding to relax your shoulders a little. You watched Belphie adjust his position, lazily resting his chin on the heel of his palm.

“Any reason why you’ve picked it up lately?” He gave you a small smile.

You bit the inside of your lip, quietly cursing yourself for falling into the exact situation with the exact person you didn’t want to get into.

“Just...curious, I guess,” you murmured. “I see them all the time, so I figured I might try and identify a few while I’m here.”

Belphie nodded and looked down at the maps on the table. “It’s kind of fun, isn’t it?”

You nodded again, now starting to smile.

“I used to come up here a lot before...everything,” he said, tracing his finger along one of the constellations on the map in front of him. His voice was wistful, and you sensed a bit of sadness in his voice as you watched his teal-colored fingernail slide across each marked star. “Quiet, you know? It’s nice.”

For a second, you recognized a hint of something familiar in his tone.

“I didn’t mean to intrude the other night,” he continued, pulling his finger away from the map. He ran his hand through his hair that covered his eye, revealing it, and let out a long exhale. “I was just...hoping to do a little stargazing of my own.”

You sensed a sadness in his words that twisted your heart into a knot.

“I just wanted to return this, though.” Belphie tapped the map in front of him and then scooted his chair backwards, preparing to leave.

You tilted your head to the side, your twisted heart making your whole chest ache.

“You can stay, if you’d like,” you said quietly. “I don’t think I’ll be much for conversation though. I’m just trying to find a constellation or two.”

Belphie stared back at you, smiling after a moment.

“Thank you, but maybe next time,” he said with a small sigh. “I’ve still got some homework to finish.”

You nodded in understanding, smiling back.

“If you find me up here first, don’t run off next time, okay?” Belphie’s smile turned into a smirk as he carefully stood up and walked off. He gave a small wave before disappearing down the stairs.

As you watched him leave, the rest of the tension in your shoulders disappeared, but there was a small fragment of you that wished he would have stayed.

That hint of something familiar that you felt made you curious. You figured that perhaps the next time you saw him, you might be able to figure out what it was.

You looked back at your map, suddenly unwilling to focus on finding constellations.

***

The next few nights you spent in the planetarium, Belphie had been there. Most times he was there before you, usually laying on the ground, his head resting on his cow-print pillow.

The two of you spent most of your time just silently looking up at the stars, but every so often you’d stumble upon a topic of conversation that kept you both engaged for a while. It often included funny things the others did, but this latest one ended up putting you both in stitches from laughing so much.

“And then...Lucifer’s face when Mammon managed to escape from him again…” Belphie snorted.

You could only nod and cackle in response, doubling over in laughter and trying to keep from falling out of your chair.

Belphie’s loud laughter was incredibly infectious and after he started giggling, you couldn’t help but start laughing along with him.

"Oh...they cause so much trouble," he continued laughing. "How did you even manage with them?"

You shook your head, your laughing slowly coming to an end.

"Hey, at the end of the day, they took care of me too," you chuckled, wiping your eyes.

Belphie's laughter petered out as well, and he let out a sigh as he looked back at you with a content smile.

"I wish I could have been here before, and not trapped in that attic…" He murmured, that hint of something familiar back in his voice. "Then I could have been up here, enjoying the stars with you."

You stifled a gasp as Belphie's admission caused your stomach to do a somersault. It was likely he only meant it in a friendly way, but it still made your cheeks tingle with warmth to hear it.

The past few nights spent with Belphie had been pleasant, even if a fair amount of it had been spent in silence. Maybe that was what you needed most. Just for you to be in Belphie's presence and for him to be in yours.

"Well, we're here now, right?" You said warmly. You stretched upward, trying to release the warmth that had been building in your cheeks and neck.

You heard Belphie hum in agreement as you finished your stretch, but were shocked when you glanced back at him to find him still staring at you.

You overcame your initial shock and smiled once you took in his serene expression. You admitted to yourself that it was nice to finally have something to share with Belphie. You couldn't help but wonder how long he had been shackled by frustration and anger.

How long had he felt alone?

It suddenly struck you like a clap of thunder. You finally recognized what was so familiar in his voice.

Homesickness.

How long had Belphie felt like a prisoner in his own home? Disconnected from his brothers? Even now, there was still some kind of distance between him and everyone else.

Your heart began to twist again, sending a deep ache through your ribs.

"Hey, what's that sad look for?" Belphie asked, looking concerned.

His question shocked you out of your thoughts and you quickly shook your head, hoping to dissipate the apparently-sad look that had crossed your face. You mentally scrambled to come up with an excuse.

"Uh, you-you just look kind of...lonely down there by yourself…" You managed to stammer out, but kicked yourself immediately afterward for including the word lonely. Heat crept up your neck and ears as embarrassment washed through your thoughts.

Belphie stared at you curiously for a moment before shrugging and letting out a small laugh.

"Well, there's plenty of room down here if you'd like to join me," he said, closing his eyes and giving a small grin. He adjusted his head on his pillow to make some room on it. "If you want," he added. You weren't sure if the dim light was playing tricks on your eyes, but it seemed like a pink tint was appearing on Belphie's cheeks.

A warm jolt shot through your body as you thought about laying down next to Belphie. As you looked at him, you knew that underneath his soft-looking casual clothes, much like his brothers, he was pretty well-built. And of course, you were becoming very familiar with his charming, boyish face. The memory of his haunting smile was now being replaced with the various memories of a small, gentle one.

You had managed to steal a few glances at Belphie when he was focused on the stars or had dozed off for a moment over the nights you had spent together in the planetarium. A warm smile would play across his lips as what you guessed were pleasant thoughts would dance in his mind.

Before you could stop yourself, you were moving from your chair to lay down next to Belphie, carefully resting your head on his pillow.

The pillow itself was not particularly wide, so you found yourself right next to Belphie, your heads and shoulders touching. The warmth from your neck had now reached down to your stomach and continued traveling downward to your feet.

In an attempt to distract yourself from your proximity to Belphie, you frantically searched your mind for a new conversation topic.

"Hey, so," you started, your voice shaking more than you would have liked. "I...saw Lucifer's name on one of the constellations on those maps, but no one else's. Do you know why?"

Belphie chuckled, and you could feel his shoulder rub against yours as his torso rumbled.

"I was wondering when you'd ask. It's kind of a dumb, funny story," he said, glancing at you and then looking back up through the ceiling of the planetarium.

"So I'm sure all those other names you saw were weird and confusing, but they're all names of old demons that helped contribute to the Devildom...though I don't know if they're still around or asleep like the Demon King or whatever." Belphie's voice was soft and slow. You felt yourself melting a little closer into Belphie's shoulder as he spoke. "So...after we fell, when Diavolo took us all in, he wanted to base constellations on us. Most of us thought it was weird, besides Asmo, and with...everything that had happened, we didn't really feel deserving of constellations." Belphie's voice trailed off sadly and he let out a slow sigh.

Your heart sank a bit as you realized the disturbing irony of fallen angels being offered metaphorical places in the sky.

"That's...in kind of bad taste," you found yourself musing out loud.

Belphie let out an amused chuckle and he looked at you as you stared up at the sky.

"So even a human gets it," he said, nudging you with his elbow. You glanced at him sympathetically and gave a half-hearted smirk. "But, yeah... Lucifer offered himself up as an 'astronomical sacrifice,'" he continued, sarcastically making air quotes with his fingers. "And so the constellation 'Lucifer' was officially recognized in the Devildom. Yay…" This time, Belphie trailed off his sentence lazily, but brushed against your hand before quickly clasping his hands together on his stomach.

Butterflies started bouncing around in your stomach as you processed Belphie's touch. You began realizing how warm his shoulder was against yours, and became hyper-aware of his head against yours.

You both fell silent, and you found yourself focusing on the sound of Belphie's slow breathing. You looked over after a minute or two to see if he had fallen asleep due to the rhythmic, deep breaths he was taking, but he was looking straight up through the ceiling of the planetarium. His visible eye had a sad look to it, though the rest of his expression was neutral. You glanced at his hands, folded neatly on his stomach, and had an overwhelming urge to reach out and touch them.

Lonely was the word that rang through your head as you tried to further identify the look in his eye, and your heart started to race the longer you stared at his hands.

As you struggled to move your hand toward his, you heard steps coming up the stairs to the planetarium.

Like a flash, both you and Belphie sat up and raced to the closest table, sitting in opposite chairs. You looked at each other in embarrassed shock before turning your attention to the unexpected visitor. You watched as Beelzebub walked into the planetarium.

"Oh, there the two of you are," he said with a smile. "Lucifer wanted me to remind you of our student council meeting tomorrow, and to not be late."

"Yeah, whatever…" Belphie replied dismissively, nodding his head. "I won't sleep in."

You nodded silently, trying to smile convincingly at Beel before he walked off down the stairs.

"Guess we should call it a night, then…" Belphie said to you rather sadly.

"Yeah...guess so," you murmured.

Belphie looked at you intently for a moment.

"Will you be coming here tomorrow night?"

You nodded. "Will you?"

"Yeah." He smiled and dreamily closed his eyes. "You're good company."

***

True to his word, Belphie did not sleep in and was not late to the Student Council meeting. Even more surprisingly, he stayed in every single class afterward.

You found yourself watching Belphie intently during the day, though quickly tried to pull your gaze away anytime he noticed. The few times he caught you, he gave you a small smile that scrambled your insides and turned your ears red.

You also found yourself thinking of the warmth from Belphie's shoulder the night before. It was difficult to focus on your classes when all you could bring yourself to think about was feeling his body next to you again. You were eager for classes to end so you could go back to the planetarium.

You sat quietly in the cafeteria at RAD, just letting your mind wander restlessly to Belphie over and over again. You absently picked at your food until you felt the seat next to you rattle backwards.

"You've been staring at me a lot today." Belphie's voice was low and clear beside you, making you jump. You eagerly turned your head to see him sitting down next to you, a slight smile on his lips. "Sorry, did I scare you?"

"No, I was just zoning out," you replied with a laugh.

"Were you zoning out all the times you were looking at me?" He asked playfully. A gentle dusting of pink covered his cheeks as he settled into his chair.

You felt your cheeks turn hot and you tried stifling an embarrassed smile. You couldn't bring yourself to respond in words, so you quickly shook your head.

Belphie chuckled and sighed.

"Well, I can't say I don't like it when I catch you staring. But it makes me just want to go back to the planetarium with you…"

"Me too." You laughed quietly.

"I guess that settles it, then." Belphie smiled coyly. "Let's ditch the rest of the day and hang out in the planetarium," he whispered, giving you a knowing look from under his eyelashes.

"Won't it be suspicious if we both leave at the same time?" You asked, trying to look nonchalant as you took a bite of food from your tray.

"You're right…" Belphie nodded sagely, humming pensively. "How about this then? I'll leave after lunch and make it special for when you get there. I kind of owe it to you for letting me sit up there with you."

You couldn't help but let a wide smile cross your face as you considered his offer.

"That smile…" Belphie continued smiling as he glanced at you. "Tells me that you like the idea. Guess it's a date."

Warmth crashed over you like an angry wave as those last four words escaped Belphie's mouth.

"Go to your next class. It shouldn't take me too long to get ready."

"Maybe...I should just go with you now?" You proposed, the raging butterflies in your stomach begging you to stay near Belphie.

"Oh...but that would ruin the surprise…" He replied, putting on a hurt face. He briefly cracked a smile before returning to his pout. You forced yourself to relent, wanting to trust Belphie and whatever he had planned.

"Okay, but I'm coming as soon as next period is over," you said with a smile and a nod.

"Perfect."

***

The next period went more slowly than you had ever experienced, your excitement to meet Belphie in the planetarium making time feel like it was standing still.

Once you were dismissed, you sped out of RAD and back to the House of Lamentation. You checked your phone, feeling it buzz, and saw a message from Belphie.

Belphegor: Change into something comfortable before you come up here.

You wondered why you might need to change, but didn't worry for long once you got inside the House. It was silent, everyone else still at RAD. A smile crept across your face as you realized that no one would interrupt your quiet time in the planetarium with Belphie this time.

You changed out of your uniform more quickly than you had before and changed to your casual clothes, almost sprinting to the planetarium. You climbed the stairs, finally able to rein in your excitement now that you were finally there.

You reached the top of the stairs and slowly entered the planetarium.

Belphie sat perched on a table near the edge of the room, next to a giant spread of blankets and pillows on the floor. He had a smile on his face, though as you continued walking in, you could see him start to blush profusely.

"I guess it wasn't that much of a surprise…" He said with a sigh. "We just didn't have much room together on my pillow alone."

"I love it," you replied, grinning. "Knowing you, this should be nice and cozy."

"I also...actually wanted to talk about the stars with you, too." Belphie slid off the table and took a seat in the middle of the blankets on the floor.

You nodded, suddenly remembering why you had started coming up to the planetarium in the first place. You couldn't help but be amused at how quickly you had been distracted from your homesickness by Belphie. You wondered if maybe you had been distracting him from whatever was bothering him as well.

You sat down next to him, not getting too close just yet. His expression was serious, and he seemed like he was preparing to say something.

"Lay down," he said quietly once you settled in.

You obeyed and laid down, Belphie following suit. His shoulder was pressed against yours again. He glanced at you and smiled, taking a deep breath.

"I mentioned that I used to come here a lot before Lucifer trapped me in the attic...it was quiet and a nice place to sleep," Belphie said in a low voice. "But I liked to watch the stars before I closed my eyes. There was something comforting about seeing them, even though we became demons."

You let out a small, sharp exhale and smiled.

"Do you want to know why I really started stargazing?" You murmured, nudging Belphie's arm with your elbow.

You had never expected it so suddenly, but here you were, next to Belphegor, the Avatar of Sloth, and you felt safe. You wanted to share the truth with him.

"Sure," he replied quietly.

You took a deep breath to steady the butterflies in your stomach.

"I've been getting homesick a lot lately," you said slowly. "Watching the stars made me feel a little like I was still in the human realm."

"...I'm really sorry I intruded, then. I think I understand what that feels like," Belphie murmured apologetically.

"No, it's fine," you quickly countered, turning your head to look at him. "I'm glad you came. I realized that it was nice to not do this alone." You started sitting up on your elbows, getting a better look at Belphie.

He looked up at you, his expression longing.

"It was so lonely in that attic...I couldn't even watch the stars like this anymore," he said achingly. "But now, I'm here. Free."

Belphie brushed his fingers over your hand, letting them linger on the top of your palm before slowly pulling them on top of his stomach.

Your stomach jumped as you felt his fingers on your hand and every part of you seemed to scream to take his hand in yours.

You focused on his hand for what seemed like an eternity. The two of you were silent. You had no idea where Belphie's attention was focused, your skin aching to feel his again.

Finally, in yet another move that shocked you, your hand seemed to move on its own and slipped firmly into Belphie's.

You heard him gasp quietly, but his hand closed firmly around yours and squeezed.

His hand was warm and soft. Goosebumps raced across your skin as you saw your hand in his and looked at his face.

A deep pink colored his cheeks as he looked back at you with a surprised smile.

"You don't have to be lonely anymore," you said barely above a whisper. Your breathing was heavy and slow, your heart aching with a desire to be with him.

"You don't have to be lonely, either," Belphie replied slowly. He steadily pulled you in toward him, guiding you to rest your head on his chest. He gently wrapped his arm around your back and held you close.

You could feel his heart pounding in your ear as you settled your head on his chest. He smelled comforting and flowery, but you couldn't identify the scent, so you settled for taking slow, deep breaths in to try and memorize it.

"I'm sorry you felt homesick…" Belphie said, his voice rumbling in his chest. "I know we probably don't make it easy."

You shook your head.

"No, that's not true," you said with a sigh. "I just…" you hesitated to continue for a moment, swallowing hard. "Didn't want to bother anyone with it. I cause enough worry as it is."

You felt Belphie squeeze you against him again, and you pulled your hand up to rest on his chest.

"You've also helped us a lot. You've...helped me a lot," Belphie murmured. He pressed his lips against your head, sending electricity through your veins. "Let us...let me help you." His breath was warm on your hair and you clung more tightly to his chest.

"Okay," you whispered, closing your eyes. You honed in on his warmth and let out a content sigh. You felt him adjust to his side and reach his other arm around to fully embrace you against his chest.

His strength surprised you as he held you firm against him. You snuggled in closer, sliding your head underneath his chin. He gently kissed your forehead, making your temperature rise and start burning away your inhibitions. You scooted back just enough to see his face, which was almost entirely flushed, but his eyes were heavy-lidded and he had a big smile.

"I think I've got something else I want to do other than stargaze," you murmured, your heartbeat now pounding in your throat.

"I was kind of thinking the same thing," Belphie said slowly, reaching his hand up to stroke your cheek. "That...maybe I've got something new to gaze at now."

As he finished, he gently pressed his lips to yours, burying his hand in your hair.

You kissed him in return, copying him and threading your fingers into his hair, pushing his long bangs out of his eyes. As you finished your kiss, you looked into his eyes, which sparkled much like the stars above you.

"Again, please," he said in a low voice before pulling you back in and hungrily pressing his lips to yours. You moaned in agreement as you leaned into his kiss and felt him pull on your lower lip with his teeth.

You definitely weren't going to be doing much stargazing now.

#obey me #obey me!#obey me! shall we date?#obey me belphegor #obey me! belphegor #fanfiction #obey me fanfic #mk writes

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rinas-ninjas · 5 years ago

Note

I found your ask page! Could you maybe write a dribble on Zane coming back from the Never Realm but all the ninja except Lloyd are salty (aka angry) at him? (I hope I’m not bother 😓)

@riftid-fox I thought I’d combine these two!

Everywhere I turn, I hurt someone

He hated it. Hated how that shadow of fear flashed across each of their faces.

But there's nothing I can say to changethe things I've done

They tried to hide it. Tried to go back to normal. But he knew them – knew them better than he knew himself at times. He saw the truth hiding under those welcoming faces.

Of all the things I hid from you

He tried to fight the nightmares. The guilt.

I cannot hide the shame

They saw right through him every time.

And I pray someone, something will cometo take away the pain

He thought about it more often than he cared to admit. Taking himself out to the middle of the Birchwood Forest. Flipping his memory switch. Letting it all fade away, like a bad dream.

There's no way out of this dark place

But something stopped him every time.

No hope, no future

He could never make up for it.

I know I can't be free

He could never completely erase it from existence.

But I can't see another way

But what other choice did he have?

I can't face another day

He couldn’t just…forget.

Tell me where, did I go wrong

He couldn’t even figure out how it got this far.

Everyone I loved, they're all gone

No one trained at home anymore. Cole sought refuge in the mountains. Kai and Nya had fixed up their parents’ shop, and Jay spent most of his time with Pixal, upgrading the base beneath their feet.

I'd do everything differently

What if he’d just…waited? He could have. His power core was fine. If he hadn’t been poking around that mech…

but I can't turn back the time

But what ifs and could haves didn’t help him now.

There's no shelter from the storminside of me

He wasn’t sure if anything could help him now.

There's no way out of this dark place

It hurt. It hurt every time he saw Kai flinch away from him during missions.

No hope, no future

It hurt when Cole watched him for a moment too long when they had to split up.

I know I can't be free

It hurt when Nya threw up a hand to block his own wayward ice.

But I can't see another way

But they were right to watch him.

I can't face another day

He couldn’t be trusted alone.

No. It was best he be kept in check.

I can't believe the words I hear

But that didn’t explain Lloyd.

It's like an answer to a prayer

It didn’t explain how he jumped onto his back, just like he did as a child, cackling like a bat out of hell.

When I look around I see

It didn’t explain the sheer joy, the relief, when he walked in the door and caught his eyes, like he had to double check that he was really there.

This place, this time, this friend of mine

The joy was infectious, dragging him into smiles and laughter against all odds.

I know its hard but you

It was like Lloyd could flip the switch on the entire room.

found somehow

He made Kai laugh and tease Zane as it he’d never left.

To look into your heart andto forgive me now

He got Cole to clap him on the back like he had when they’d first found him, back on Chen’s island.

You've given me the strength to seejust where my journey ends

He put them all at ease.

You've given me the strengthto carry on

He gave them all a light at the end of the tunnel – he gave Zane a light at the end of the tunnel.

I see the path from this dark place

He’d seen him at his worst.

I see my future

He’d heard Akita’s tale. Had met her brother, imprisoned and shackled.

Your forgiveness has set me free

He forgave him wholeheartedly.

On and I can see another wayI can face another day!

Perhaps it was enough.

#ninjago #ninjago au #kinda #zane #zane julien #zangst #angst #rina writes #songfic

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vixensheart · 5 years ago

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Of Cow Pastures and Hay Bales

If there was one thing Katsuki loved, it was the feel of the blazing sun burning on his bare skin. He was warmed to his core, skin hot and slick with sweat, shirt tossed off onto a hay bale hours earlier. Katsuki jammed his pitchfork into a bale again and pulled some free, tossing it into the half filled trough. He paused to swipe at the sweat dripping at his brow, before shovelling out another bit, and another. His arms and shoulders ached from the effort, but the ache felt good. It meant he was getting shit done, and Katsuki liked getting shit done and done right.

The cows seemed to appreciate it, too.

“Hey, stranger!”

Katsuki threw another pitchfork full of hay into the trough and tossed a glance over his shoulder. There, galloping up over the slope was the familiar shape of Riot and his rider, Kirishima Eijirou.

He snorted. Dumbass.

Katsuki jammed his pitchfork into the dirt and lumbered to the hay bale with his shirt, using it to wipe the sweat from his brow. The thunder of hooves came to a halt, and Katsuki watched as Riot tossed his head, black mane flopping about.

“Whoa, easy, boy,” Kirishima said. He pat the stallion’s thick neck and hopped down, boots kicking up a cloud of dust. Riot flicked his ears but settled, tail whisking back and forth like a manic fly swatter. Which, fair. There were tons of fucking flies everywhere, thanks to all the piles of cow shit. Kirishima patted him again and set to work untying something from the saddlebags. Seconds later, Kirishima turned around again and chucked something at him. “Here, catch.”

Reflex had Katsuki reaching out and catching a full canteen, which he immediately unscrewed and guzzled. Fuck, that hit the spot. He replaced the cap and tossed it back, swiping at his mouth. Kirishima snorted when he caught it, giving the canteen a shake. “Damn, dude, thirsty much?”

Katsuki flipped him off. “Fuck off.” That just earned him a laugh, which, in turn, had his traitorous heart flip flopping in his chest. Katsuki elected to ignore the feeling and scowled instead, tossing his shirt back onto the closest hay bale. His gaze found its way back to Kirishima, who was scratching his brick house of a horse behind the ear, having secured the canteen back into its saddlebag.

Riot was a big ass horse. Standing roughly seventeen hands tall, he was a goddamn tank, muscular and tall- he could probably squish a man’s skull like a grape. His hide shone red in the bright afternoon sun, mud and dirt obscuring the black of his legs and hooves. Despite his intimidating size, Riot was, as Kirishima often claimed, a big softie. And Katsuki knew the damn thing was spoiled like a baby- Kirishima loved that horse.

When he’d first come to Yueii Ranch, Riot was unrideable, sending every rider to the dirt in seconds. The stablehands claimed he was unbreakable. Untameable. Wild and dangerous, what with his size and power. Kirishima, the fucker, was undeterred, though. Katsuki’d been forced to watch the idiot get thrown a whopping twelve times before Riot gave up, finally. ‘Course, Kirishima was practically unbreakable himself, always popping back up when he should be laid flat and wheezing. They were a good match.

“How’s it going out here?” Kirishima asked, drawing Katsuki from his thoughts. Katsuki shrugged.

“S’alright. I’ll be done prolly around sundown.”

He hummed, gaze settling on Katsuki. Kirishima quirked a brow then, tilting his head. “And you’re not wearing a shirt why…?”

“It’s fucking hot as balls,” Katsuki snapped. “Obviously.”

Kirishima snorted. “Dude, you’re gonna get all scratched up.” He sauntered over, boots scuffing the dusty pasture. Katsuki tried to maintain a scowl, but it was hard when he had Kirishima’s swinging hips in those tight ass jeans distracting him. Good looking fucker. He had no idea how that shit was comfortable, but Kirishima swore by it. Paired with that loose flannel, buttons undone enough to show off his broad chest, and Katsuki’s mouth was suddenly dry again. Goddammit. Kirishima smirked, eyes glimmering from under the shade of his hat, and Katsuki felt just a little weak at the knees. He stepped close enough to invade Katsuki’s space, and reached up to brush some stray bits of hay off Katsuki’s shoulder. The sudden touch had Katsuki flinching, and Kirishima snickered like the asshole he was.

“Awful jumpy there, Bakubro.”

Katsuki sucked in a breath and glared despite the lava in his veins. “Fuck off,” he said for the second time, voice strained. Kirishima just grinned.

There was something, between them, recently. Something Katsuki was afraid to put a name to. Something filled with heated glances and casual, burning touches, of leaning into each other’s space and murmuring soft words into the other’s ears. It was shiny and new, and it was as natural as it wasn’t. Katsuki didn’t know what to make of the way his heart pounded, didn’t know how to process the intense desire to close the distance between them and kiss this idiot senseless. So, with all the willpower he could muster, he backed off and yanked his pitchfork from the ground. “If you’re gonna hang around, you could at least do something useful,” Katsuki said, chucking the tool at Kirishima. He caught it with ease, snickering.

“Yeah, yeah.” Kirishima twirled the pitchfork in his hands like the fancy, daring idiot he was, and skipped his way over to the remaining bales of hay. Katsuki was probably about halfway done, give or take. And it was what. Past noon, by now? He squinted up at the sun, head tilted. Eh, close enough. His gaze drifted back to Kirishima, who was bent over scooping up another pitchfork full of hay. Katsuki couldn’t help but enjoy the view, gaze lingering on the slope of Kirishima’s fine ass. God, those jeans were a sin. He bit his lip and forced himself to look away, because he had work to do, dammit.

He could admire Kirishima’s ass some other time. Like, when he didn’t have a mound of hay to feed out to a herd of a two hundred head of cattle.

Katsuki ran a hand through his sweat-soaked hair and huffed a sigh. Fuck, okay. Time to finish this shit so he could go lie in some shade somewhere. He stalked to the wagon picketed just a stone’s toss away, and nabbed the second pitchfork he always kept handy for situations such as this. What? Kirishima was predictable as fuck, and as much as Katsuki loathed to admit it, so was he. They were going to work side by side, melting under the unrelenting sun, surrounded by lazy ass cows that did nothing but stare as they provided a boost of nutrition for them, and Katsuki was going to steal glances at Kirishima because fuck, those arms, and Kirishima was going to pretend he didn’t notice even though Katsuki knew he did- that knowing smirk never escaped Katsuki’s attention.

“Whew, it is hot out here,” Kirishima said. He jammed his pitchfork into the hoof-beaten earth and ripped off his hat, strands of red hair falling messily into his face. Katsuki scoffed.

“Yeah, no shit. You just figuring that out?”

Kirishima chuckled. “Maybe.” His grin turned dangerous, then, and he let his hat fall to the ground. “Now I get why you took your shirt off, dude,” he said, hands reaching up to start undoing his buttons, and oh, shit, this was not good.

“What are you doing,” Katsuki croaked. He watched with wide eyes as Kirishima unbuttoned more and more of his worn flannel. There was a glint in his eyes, that same glint Kirishima got when he was up to no good. Katsuki’s seen this shit before, many times. Often it yielded some less than desirable situations, like when he decided to try and tip a cow with idiot Kaminari. That had resulted in a concussion and some bruised ribs. And of course Katsuki was the one that had to play doctor.

Which Kirishima seemed to enjoy a little too much. Though Katsuki always maintained that it was just the concussion talking, then.

“Obviously,” Kirishima said, “I’m taking off my shirt. Ya know. Because it’s hot.” He was closer, suddenly, in Katsuki’s space. When did he get there? Katsuki wasn’t actually sure. What? He was fucking distracted. A shirtless Kirishima was very distracting after all. Fucking adonis, tits out and glistening in the golden sunlight. Katsuki’s gay ass was already easily distracted by this goon he called a partner. The shirt removal left him feeling almost catatonic, mouth gaping open like a fish out of water. His gaze somehow managed to find Kirishima’s, and he was lost in a setting sun, heart thudding in his chest. Kirishima chuckled. “Like what you see?”

Katsuki gulped. He was helpless as Kirishima sauntered even closer, breath fanning his face. Fuck, oh, fuck, his heart felt like it was gonna pound right out of his chest. Kirishima’s hand brushed his jaw, and Katsuki gulped, skin erupting in tingles. Everything was both slowed down and sped up and Katsuki’s gaze flicked to Kirishima’s plush lips and he wondered for what had to be the hundredth time what they tasted like. Would they be sweet, like the candies he was always sucking on? Or would they taste salty, like the sweat beading Kirishima’s brow. His eyelids drooped all on their own, and he found himself leaning forward, and-

In one swift motion, Kirishima whipped his hat off with a whoop, leaving Katsuki blinking into the bright afternoon, wondering what the fuck just happened. He stared as Kirishima stumbled back, bent over and laughing like a crazy person. “Dude, your face,” he wheezed. Katsuki scrunched his face.

That actual asshole…

He lurched forward with a snarl. “You fucker!” He gave Kirishima a shove, trying to grab for his hat. Kirishima cackled, twisting to evade his grasp. A growl rumbled in Katsuki’s throat, and he lunged again, which of course resulted in them running amok through the field like a pair of idiots. Kirishima’s laughter was infectious, though, and Katsuki found his indignance melting away and giddy laughter take its place. They ducked around the wagon and weaved between the stacks of hay bales, their game of chase littered with curses and taunts and laughter.

Katsuki finally caught Kirishima turning a corner, his hand snagging the crook of Kirishima’s elbow. He yanked, pulling Kirishima off his feet. Only, Kirishima managed to nab his wrist and brought Katsuki down with him. They landed, hard. Chest to chest, with Katsuki staring down at Kirishima, his hat forgotten an arm’s length away. And, oh, fuck. He was goddamn beautiful, eyes wide, expression open and awed. That red hair of his was a goddamn mess, spilling into the grass and hay, and there was a solid chance they were laying in shit, but fuck, Katsuki was entranced. Smitten. Enamored. Besotted. All of those shitty ass sappy things people said. And he couldn’t help himself any more, he lurched forward and smashed their lips together in a messy, off-center kiss.

There was a squeak, and Katsuki felt Kirishima stiffened beneath him, and a bolt of panic shot through him. Oh, shit, what if he read everything wrong? But before he could pull back and ram himself on a pitchfork, Kirishima came to life, arms wrapping around him, pulling Katsuki impossibly closer as he kissed him back with fervor.

It was far from what most would consider perfect or romantic. They were laying in a muddy, clumpy field, littered with stray bits of hay and cow shit, sweaty as fuck and kissing each other like they were devouring their last meal on this mortal plane.

And Katsuki wouldn’t have it any other way.

END

#kiribaku #kiribaku week 2020 #day five #bnha #my hero academia

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myherogroundzero · 5 years ago

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meant to be this way (bakugou x reader)

A/N: I WORKED SO HARD ON THIS OMG. i tried something a little different. what’s italicised is what happened the morning of and what’s not is what’s currently happening. idk if you guys will like it, it’s kinda weird. but my amazing, wonderful friend told me she thought u guys would love it so i finished it and here it is. i really hope you guys like this because it’s one of my favourites so far. i love the hero x villain trope, but i feel like 9 times out of 10, the relationship wouldn’t be something that’s cute and fluffy. so i made angst. pls enjoy!

word count: 2.2k

warnings: language, angst, implied s-sex🥺👉👈😳

•••••

the sun shone brightly through the blinds, irradiating the pro hero and his forbidden lover. your bodies were tangled together, hair pointing every which way. the previous night had been a stressful one— hence why you were laid against the chest of Katsuki Bakugou, the most hot headed hero you’d ever encountered. in fact, he pissed you off more often than you’d like to admit. you faked fighting him in every battle, knowing damn well you’d be in his bed when it was over. that was the cycle. you acted like you hated each other, like you wanted to kill him, even if you didn’t.

the civilians were screaming, running. doing whatever they possibly could in order to get the hell out of there. where were the heroes?

your eyes fluttered open as you snuggled closer to Katsuki, the soft beat of his heart daring to lull you back to sleep. you looked at him through half-lidded eyes. the corners of your mouth tugged upwards at the sight of him in his softest state: unconscious. you wished it could just stay this way— the two of you in a relationship. one you didn’t have to hide. but that would be a foolish choice, what with you being wanted. his job was to chase you, and yours? well, yours was to give him someone to catch. after all, a hero is completely unsuccessful without the work of a villain.

your stomach turned when you looked around at all the blood that painted the walls. you felt the contents of your stomach rise. you were going to be sick. you’d seen dead people before, sure, but this? this was uncalled for. you couldn't handle this, and your master saw that was well.

you shifted slightly, attempting to get more comfortable but only managing to wake him up. his glossed over, red eyes bore into your own e/c eyes.

“morning, dumbass.”

you chuckled, your hand sliding down his bare chest. you propped yourself up, your free hand combing gently through his spiked hair.

“morning, sunshine. how’d you sleep?”

“i would’ve slept better if an idiot hadn't woken me up,” his voice was gruff and tired, but you knew it was playful.

“mmm, so very harsh. i bet you don’t get presents from Santa, hmm? you naughty little bitch.” you teased back.

“what the fuck did you call me you pompous little shit?”

he rolled over to hover above you. his eyes flickered up and down your body, a smirk adorning his features. perhaps you didn’t have to just be a nighttime stress reliever— mornings worked as well.

“don’t be so pathetic, y/n. this is what we wanted, what we worked so hard for! a better society doesn’t just happen, darling. first, we have to purge.” Master spoke quietly. his excitement was clear and you wished you could share it, but you couldn’t. something about their innocent, unsuspecting faces made it hard to watch. what was happening to you? you weren’t soft. you made the world tremble, for God’s sake! a monster doesn’t get sick at the sight of evil, does it?

you grinned under his gaze, your lip innocently making its way between your teeth.

“God, you’re fucking beautiful, you know that?”

you loved how easy it was for you to turn him on. it was the smallest things— from biting your lip to batting your eyes. he had a soft spot for you, and you were so glad it was only you.

he leaned down and connected his lips to your neck, sucking and biting anywhere that elicited a soft whimper from that mouth of yours. your fingers ran through and tugged at his hair, pulling him as close to you as you could. he pressed his body against yours, making your hips jerk up. you smirked when you heard the quiet groan that left his throat.

“Master, these people… they haven’t done anything! they’re innocent, sir! it’s the heroes— the heroes are the impurities. we need to get rid of them!” your voice was pleading and desperate. you’d hurt innocent people before… why was now different? you were raised to kill, that was all you were made for. but how can you kill when their teary eyes made your heart shatter?

“you’ve become unusually weak, y/n. don’t forget why you’re here. you are nothing but a weapon to me, and i expect you to behave as one. last i checked, weapons don’t have feelings.”

quiet pants escaped your throat, your chest rising and falling quicker than before. Katsuki laid next to you, his arm tiredly holding you close to him. you stared at the ceiling in a comfortable silence. it wasn’t until you heard soft snores that the silence broke. you looked over to see him sleeping once again. you decided to take that as your chance to leave. it was his day off and you would’ve loved to spend it with him, but you knew it wouldn’t be a good idea. you gently got up, doing your best to move as quietly as you could to get dressed.

you gave him one last look, a sort of sadness washing over you before you left his apartment.

“right, sir, sorry.” you mumbled, shifting on your feet.

“would you just look at it, y/n? i can feel our plan cleansing the streets. soon, this place will belong entirely to us. won’t that be magnificent?” he said. you could practically see the venom dripping from each word that left your master’s mouth. at this rate, you didn’t know which was worse: his plans or his belief that his plans were good?

Katsuki awoke again, the pressure on his arm and side no longer there. he felt colder without you. he’d never admit it, but he wished you would stay. though he knew that, while heroes got a break every once in a while, villains didn’t get days off. it was hard for him to truly believe that you were a villain, though. you had an infectious laugh, a gorgeous smile. monsters were ugly, vile creatures, weren’t they? you couldn’t be a monster. no, not with that heart. you didn’t smile like evil did.

you saw a blurred figure rush at him, explosions making the two of you fly back. you gripped your side, the impact causing an ache to arise throughout your ribs. you caught a glimpse of sharp, bright red eyes staring menacingly down at both you and your master. you’d recognise those eyes and that quirk anywhere. you could see the pain and disgust when he looked at you, and it tore you apart. your master smiled. his dark, wavy hair covered his eyes, but you knew that there was pure hatred within them. you saw blood trickle down the side of his face. your heartbeat quickened when laughter erupted from his throat, and he found his way back onto his feet.

“oh, Bakugou— did you think you could kill me all on your own? your quirk simply isn’t strong enough to take out both me and my second-in-command. y/n, kill him.” his voice was strong and demanding. it was enough to make anyone fall to their knees and beg for his mercy.

“sir, i—“

“y/n, now! i wasn’t asking!” he ordered. you stood up, your limbs shaking. you couldn’t do it. you couldn’t kill him. all you could do was stare at him, unable to move. that’s when you felt the oxygen leave your lungs. you tried to inhale, gasping for air that you couldn’t get. you fell to your knees, your hand grasping your throat.

you heard the sirens of the ambulances and cop cars that hurried past you. you looked around at the scurrying people. something wasn’t right. you ran in the direction the cops were heading, hoping to find some clues as to what the hell was happening. it couldn’t have been anyone you associate with, you would’ve been informed.

buildings were on fire and alarms were sounding. people were screaming, trying to take cover from the debris that came from crashing buildings. you heard a familiar cackle of one of the newer recruits that Master had taken in. with that, you knew it was a mission done by your own group that had failed to include you. your eyes scanned the tops of the buildings until it landed on the lanky figure of the man you worked for.

“ma… ster…” you choked out. your vision had gone blurry. all the sound had become muffled and you were incredibly dizzy. the only sound you could make out was an explosion, followed by bright red flames that engulfed your boss. oxygen rushed into your body, allowing you to inhale deeply. you coughed as the tears that pricked your eyes fell down your cheeks. you looked up to Katsuki, an animalistic glint in his eyes. it looked like humanity had left your lover’s body and was replaced with pure, indisputable maliciousness. he glared down at the man who had dared to hurt you in front of him.

“you’re audacious, i’ll give you that. but don’t you ever hurt her again, do you understand me? if i found out you have, i’ll—“

you saw a bright flash and knew immediately what it was. your heart stopped as you saw the familiar blue of your master’s ice strike out, and for a moment you thought it was too late. when you saw that Katsuki was still standing you knew it had missed, but it wouldn’t miss a second time. that’s how your master worked, he always sent out a warning before the real thing. you shot to your feet and ran towards Katsuki, pushing him out of the way as the ice shot forward. the air you had struggled so hard to get was forced out of your lungs again. there were no words to explain the shock that took over your entire body. you looked down as your hands gently gripped the long, sharp icicle that had pierced your skin.

you hurried toward the building that your master was using as a way to look at his work. you couldn’t believe you were the second-in-command— and you were the last to know. it wasn’t right, but then again, none of this was. you made your way up to the roof of the building, staring at the back of his head.

“come, join me, y/n.” his voice was soft and inviting when he spoke to you. though he was an authority figure to you, he never spoke to you as though you were anything less than human. he treated you like you deserved to be heard, like you deserved to be here. and you supposed that was why you went with him all those years ago. he made you feel like you were worth anything at all as he shaped you into the perfect, merciless weapon.

your eyes watered again as you coughed slightly, blood dripping from your mouth. you stumbled backward, trying to keep your balance but your vision was foggy. you heard more yelling and explosions before two strong arms wrapped around your torso, finally allowing your knees to buckle and your entire body to collapse into his chest.

“y/n, please don’t close your eyes. baby, please,” Katsuki pleaded, his cheeks pink. his eyes looked glassy and pained.

“i’m cold, Katsu,” you whispered, your voice shaking.

“you’re gonna be okay, princess. i’m gonna get you to the hospital, okay? you’ll be alright.” he breathed, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Katsuki, stop. you wouldn’t make it in time,” you held on tightly to him, trying to get as much warmth as you could.

“and even if you did, they’d just lock me up when it was healed. it’s better this way, love.”

“better this way? don’t fucking tell me that it’s ‘better this way’! it’s not, y/n! i don’t want to get over you!” his tears trailed down his cheeks and the drops hit your cold skin.

“it is better, Katsu. this world has enough monsters.” your hand traced down his arm to grip his fingers, your half-lidded eyes looking into his own.

“you’re not a monster, y/n. please don’t leave me. i love you,”

“s-stop… you don’t mean that, don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” your breathing slowed and your grip became loose. you chuckled lightly.

“i can’t help but think it was meant to be this way.”

you smiled softly at him and your eyes closed. your hand fell limply at your side.

“no, no, no! y/n, no! wake up! wake up, dammit!” he held you close to his chest, burying his face in the crook of your neck. quiet sobs left his throat as he begged for you to come back to him.

your words echoed through his mind. ‘i can’t help but think it was meant to be this way.’ if it was supposed to be like this, why did it hurt so much? why was letting go of you so hard? he couldn’t bring himself to believe you when you said you were a monster. he didn’t think he’d ever believe that. but you were right. you chose the life of villainy, you chose to be a monster. but when you love someone, you ignore what they really are. though you had redeeming aspects, nothing could change the fact that you had harmed people— that you had taken lives. only Bakugou knew of who you were outside of being a wanted criminal. though, as far as you were concerned, there was no one who would miss you. so yeah—

maybe it was meant to be this way.

#boku no hero academia #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #mha #x you #bakugou #my hero academia x reader #x reader #reader insert #angst #bnha #my hero academia #anime

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enderprtl · 5 years ago

Text

chasing down the devil part three

we are Not Done (there’s one more part too), here is part 3 of me and @betweenlands‘s shadow au fic (by the wonderful @mine-sara-sp) for reason you shouldn’t piss off the shadow-vex

p.t 1// p.t 2

WARNINGS FOR FIC: BODY HORROR, ANOTHER BIG ASS FUCKING FIGHT, BLINDNESS (APEX CAN’T SEE).

iii.

Scar’s shadow and Paladin stood in eerie silence over Apex’s sleeping form, both heads tilted in curiosity at the aggressive shadow (who was currently out cold).

Paladin kicked him with their foot. “He’s strange.”

Scar’s shadow just hummed in response - its partner had come back with nasty wounds, the magnum opus being a gouge in the center of the shadow. Paladin, of course, had found it hilarious, sticking a shadowy hand through the hole, giggling wildly as the two shadow-vex conversed. The knight had begged them to be able to go see Apex, wanting to see if the shadowy arm Avarice had described was still there.

It wasn’t.

Paladin kicked Apex again with their foot, backing up quickly as Apex stirred. Paladin giggled. “He’s waking up! Keloid, look!”

Apex dragged himself up off the ground, head snapping towards the sound of Paladin giggling, lip already curled into a snarl. “Keloid. Move closer so I can kill you.” He still couldn’t see - the visor wasn’t exactly organic, it wasn’t going to grow back onto his face.

He could feel Keloid’s cold glare in response. “Why? I could easily crush you here. You cannot see.”

Paladin giggled softly, skipping across the room, dragging their fingers across the gouges in the wood. “Did you do this?”

Keloid stared down Paladin with disappointment, and Paladin’s grin fell into a soft pout - he went and stood behind a decaying statue, blending in with the shine of the room.

Apex pushed himself up further, onto his knees, standing shakily without his sight as he tilted his head to the side, tried to pinpoint where exactly Keloid - Scar’s shadow, it had to be - was. He took a step forward, pounded one fist against his battered chest.

“I can still move. You aren’t safe.”

Keloid laughed - not a garbled or glitchy sound, but something soft, real, like Scar’s loud, jovial laugh from a room miles away. It stepped forward, using a hand to hold Apex’s jaw firm, making him face it eyes on.

“You have no weapons, you have no eyes. You are useless, android.” it said, voice a glitchy and droning sound.

Paladin smirked from their hiding spot. “What did you do to Avarice?” They climbed up the statue and sat criss-cross atop it, leaning forward.

Apex tilted his head towards the sound of Paladin’s voice, twisted his face into a grin. “Move a little closer and I’ll give you a demonstration.” He grabbed at the hand he knew was somewhere near his face and held onto Keloid’s arm with as tight a grip as he could muster. “Unless you wanna volunteer, shadow-vex?”

Keloid let out a low growl, only to compose itself. It wasn’t going to act a fool, not like Avarice; it tightened its grip on his jaw, another free arm holding up his right arm, gripping it with malice. Its voice was still soft, emotionless. “It came out of this one, did it not?”

Paladin kept giggling, their head rolling back with a loud laugh that bounced around the room and grated against Apex’s ears. “I want to see him do it! Keloid, make him do it!” They tilted their head and pouted, wide yellow eyes going wider.

Apex gritted his teeth, curled his free hand into a fist, tried to step closer to Keloid. He couldn’t see anything - his vision was filled with yellow light and pretty much nothing else - but he knew generally where the shadow-vex’s body mass was, now. “Why d’you want to know? Cub’s shadow is the bruiser out of you two, do you really think you’re going to survive this fight?” He spat towards the ground, doing his best to glare up at Keloid without actually having eyes.

Paladin giggled, jumping down from their little seat and skipping over to stand right besides Keloid - they looked over the dull and blurred yellow outlines of Apex’s eyes before drawing closer to him. “Oh, don’t underestimate Keloid! It looks harmless, but it could kill you in a sundry of ways!” They poked his cheek, voice too cheerful and bright, and he lunged at them - a bit too slowly, though, his hands caught nothing but empty air.

“So can I,” he snarled.

Paladin cackled, a cheerful, almost terrifying laugh - it bounced off walls, it rang in Apex’s ears… and it was infectious. He felt the ends of his lips pull up into a smile, fought back hard against the urge to laugh and instead curled his grin wider and angrier.

He lunged again, wrestling out of Keloid’s loosened grip as he smashed directly into Paladin, grabbed them by the shoulders. “You wanted to see what I can do, huh?”

Paladin grinned. “You fight dirty.” They tilted their head back, then smashed the bridge of their helmet into his face. “So I think I will too.”

Apex felt his nose break, saw stars against the yellow background of noise on his blind eyes, and something in him snapped again - he started laughing, a low, garbled chuckle as he wiped his face off, as his jaw distorted out of place. “All right. My turn.”

He pulled Paladin closer, yanking them forward by one arm as he raised his right arm again - felt it distort and crack, a new limb clawing out of his shoulder as his ordinary arm hung uselessly by his side - and slammed one shadowy fist into their face, knocking them flat on the ground.

Paladin spat something yellow, the shit-eating grin growing wider on their face. They reached up and brought down their visor, whistling softly. “Whoops.”

Something yanked Apex right off Paladin and slammed him into a wall - the thick, glitchy growling coming from it confirmed what he suspected, Keloid had ambushed him. He rubbed his head, pushed himself up off the ground once more, tried to figure out where the two enemy shadows were in the haze.

"This is what I mean. Your precious little Paladin really can't fight someone who's blind and wounded on their lonesome? Gotta help them out?" Back to his feet. One shaky step forward. "Trophy got a little rusty all locked away with nothing to fight? Pathetic."

He took a deep breath in, then roared again, as loud as he possibly could - felt his mouth open further than it should’ve been able to, teeth where there should have been none, he was screaming at the top of his lungs with a thousand voices in chorus - "COWARDS!”

Keloid snarled, baring every fang in its wide mouth and swung at Apex, talons extended in a flurry of blows, going at his strange arm, every blow getting more aggressive than the last.

Paladin giggled wildly, “Keep going!” They scrambled on top of a pile of rotting metals, watching the fight from a fair distance. They pulled their visor up, wide yellow eyes watching the shadow-vex claw at armor and shadow. Each hit made them erupt in a flurry of cheers and wild laughter, metal clinking against metal as they clapped, their grin growing unnaturally wide.

Apex was getting sick of that stupid laugh. His vision was still gone, but… just faintly, in his haze of anger, he could make out a fuzzy grey shape among the blinding yellow. A bit of a stretch away... it had to be them.

"Shut UP," he growled, pivoting on his heels and lunging at the distant shape. Keloid's claws came down on his back as he turned - leaving a scar behind, he was sure it'd hurt when he wasn't totally enraged - but he slipped away from the shadow-vex and barreled towards the wavering grey silhouette of Paladin.

Paladin laughed, and stood up, boots sinking into the pile of metal underneath them. They pulled out a thin, shining yellow blade and raised it up, waiting patiently. As Apex’s form barreled closer, they stuck just a sliver of tongue out, and brought the blade down slashing into his chest.

He didn't flinch. Didn't even pause anywhere but internally to register the pain of yet another wound on his body. He probably should've died by now, but that wasn't going to stop him - Apex was running on nothing but spite and rage and pure energy at this point.

He grabbed Paladin's sword-hand with his shadowy arm, let out another roar as he tightened his grip, aimed their arm back, and forced their stupid glinting sword into their chest point-first, pushed it right through their armor. "Shouldn't have done that.”

Paladin cried out in pain, eyes narrowing as the blade dug deeper, then looked up, smiling. Claws dug into Apex's back as Keloid once again grabbed him by the shadowy arm and pulled him off Paladin, throwing him into a pile of metal.

It was getting harder and harder to stand up again, but that's what Apex did - slowly, shakily. "I told you. As long as I can still move, you aren't safe." The wound across his chest hurt even more than he'd thought it would now that he was actually bothering to register the pain - he wobbled on his feet, but managed to stay upright.

Paladin pulled the blade out of their chest as their grin fell quickly into a pout. Keloid growled and stepped forward… and then stopped short.

It paused, stared over the wounded shadow, at the thousands of gold scratches on grey and black. Fragile. Glass-like. A stained glass picture of a bird, two bright yellow gems for eyes, its wings broken off from abuse and wear. Keloid hunched over, picking up Apex gently. It tilted its head curiously, and began to leave the room. Paladin stared in shock, hands now on their hips, “What are you doing? Keloid? Keloid!”

Keloid ignored the knight, walking out of the room. Paladin ran out, following the shadow-vex, eyebrows knitted, eyes locked on Apex’s blind ones.

Apex, for his part, was not enjoying this one bit. He struggled weakly against the vague shadowy blob holding him, trying to escape Keloid’s grasp - unfortunately, though, while it was holding him gently, this was still a firm grip, and every single motion he made was starting to hurt. He scrabbled at the ground with his shadowy hand, trying to pull himself away, but Keloid just kept moving. And frankly, he was too exhausted to ask where it was taking him or why.

Keloid slammed a free arm onto a button and a door clicked open, pistons creaking as the entryway slid open. Paladin walked in and groaned - this was their vault. The room with their diamonds, their gold, emeralds. All of their shiny things. Keloid placed Apex down with uncanny gentleness. “Be nice,” it said, looking over towards Paladin.

Apex was not feeling nice. The second his feet touched the ground of the new room, he lunged at Paladin again, lurching somewhat unsteadily on the new terrain. He didn’t have the energy left to actually say anything, but the snarl he made was a fairly obvious declaration of his intentions. As far as he was concerned, he’d been moved to a new arena - and he was still going to kick the snot out of Paladin, make them regret messing with him.

Paladin wasn’t in a good mood, either. Keloid put the shadow that’d stabbed them in their room, and told them to “be nice”? They weren’t in the mood to be nice, no, they wanted this shadow out of their room. The piles of gems began to rumble as they backed up from the charging shadow. Their pout fell even further - they weren’t acting anymore, they wanted this stupid shadow gone.

Paladin backed up against one wall as piles of gems started to shift around them and the gold chandelier began to sway in circles. They were angry; angry at Keloid, angry at Apex, angry at everything and everyone that wasn’t them. Paladin wailed, their foot slamming into the ground. “It’s not fair!”

Two dozen emeralds flew through the air, somehow reacting to Paladin’s explosive tantrum. One sliced right past Apex’s cheek - he couldn’t see these projectiles, and another one hit him blunt-side first in the stomach. Still, he stumbled forward, even as another emerald caught his shadowy arm in its elbow, ripped through so hard that it dissipated.

Paladin was outright frowning now; Apex had made them ruin perfectly good emeralds. They stomped forward, every step closer to Apex making more and more gems bounce higher into the air. They grabbed him by the collar, spitting in his face as they yelled at him.

“You’re ruining everything!”

Gems got pushed back in waves like a shockwave tearing through the room, pushing gems and statues up against the wall and spinning the chandelier in circles. Apex just gritted his teeth, grabbed Paladin by the helmet with one hand and slammed his fist into their face. “You’re going to regret taunting me,” he spat back. “I don’t lose my quarry.”

Paladin pushed Apex back into a pile of gems with surprising force. The diamonds and emeralds were sharp - they poked small holes into Apex’s back, and he winced in discomfort. Meanwhile, Paladin stormed forward, teeth bared, their cheerful nature completely diminished. They reared back, winding up to to punch Apex in the jaw, only for a claw to pick them up and set them aside.

Keloid, looking quite distressed, came over and scooped up Apex and threw him over its shoulder - Apex struggled again, but he was in a pretty inconvenient place and couldn’t quite reach any weak points.

Unbothered by Apex’s squirming, the shadow-vex left the room, sighing as it looked over the damage caused by the two shadows. It clambered up even more stairs before coming to another door. When it opened, Apex could hear birds chirping, and the sound of flowing water. He was set down in lush green grass. “Don’t break anything,” Keloid grumbled.

And it left.

#the fucking WILDEST ONE TO WRITE NOT GONNA LIE #HOOO BOY #I THINK PART FOUR IS GONNA BE THE LAST ONE #AND UH IDK WHATS OGNNA HAPPEN #WE GOING WITH THE FLOW #shadow!au #my writing #writing #buddies #apex #keloid #paladin/shiny #hermitcraft

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pilot-boi · 5 years ago

Text

Shouting in Cafes: Chapter Seven

Highway Skyline

They’re burning down the highway skyline, on the back of a hurricane that started turning when they were young.

AO3 LINK

Neptune made a point to carefully open the car door and get inside. The car was… Nice. Surprisingly nice. The seats were clean and smelled like lemons, the floor mats were spotless. No trash. No stains. Sun was checking his hair in the rearview mirror.

“Huh,” Neptune said, not fast enough to hide the surprise in his voice.

“What?” Sun asked, freezing.

“It’s nice.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“No beer bottles.”

“Wow, dude. I’m hurt, truly,” Sun said, pressing a hand to his chest in a facsimile of hurt. Or maybe it was real hurt. He could never tell with this guy.

Neptune supressed a laugh at his performance. He couldn’t afford to let Sun see him be happy. That would mean he was winning, and they weren’t friends. Nope. Totally not.

“Ready to ride?” Sun asked with a smile that said danger.

“Just… here? We’re going way over the speed limit here?”

“It’s fine!” Sun waved him off, adjusting his mirror and shooting himself a grin in the reflection. “There are never any cops or pedestrians here. Don’t worry so much, Neptune!”

“I have to worry. That’s the only way you won’t freaking kill yourself.”

Sun laughed, and he did have a nice laugh dammit. A laugh that made you want to laugh along with him. Neptune barely restrained himself from doing just that.

“Okay! Here we go!”

Sun was out of that parking space so fast, Neptune thought he might get whiplash. He stopped the car just as quickly, then started it up again before either one of them could get their bearings.

“Su- Su-” Neptune stuttered out between the breaks, his nails digging into the leather and his glasses threatening to fly off his face.

“Aw, see? We are good friends!” Sun called over the purring engine. “We’re already giving each other nicknames!”

“Shut up!”

The pavement screamed underneath them and Neptune watched his life zoom past. Oh, look, there went the time Scarlet knocked his head into the terrible birthday cupcake he got him and Neptune had sprinkles dropping out of his hair for at least a week.

Sun bucked the car onto the empty street and took off, wind tangling in his hair and eyes open wide. The trees turned into green blurs, the buildings into only smudges of paint on a blue backdrop.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Neptune yelled and promptly sealed his mouth closed. Air poured down his throat at top speeds and with it most likely a million bugs. No thank you, this was terrifying enough all ready, he didn’t need that.

The road bumped and threatened to make him bite his tongue off. And he needed that, thank you very much. For screaming, if nothing else.

“You know, you sure do take the Lord’s name in vain a whole lot,” Sun said as casually as if they were out for lunch. He pulled out some sunglasses and tucked them into Neptune’s hair without even asking. Yellow reflective aviators. What had he really been expecting?

“I’m already Catholic! It’s fine!”

“I’m not really sure that’s how it works,” he said conversationally as he pulled on a pair of honest-to-God fingerless driving gloves. He was going to die. Forget getting in a crash, his heart was going to stop.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Neptune screamed. Sun had started fishing around in the space between the cupholders, and his face was turned completely away from the road to do it. Neptune’s heart raced. Street signs smeared. Sun’s speed neared one hundred.

“It’s fine, it’s fine! Cool your jets, dude! I’m just grabbing some tunes!”

“We’re going to die!”

“Oh, so now we’re a we?” Sun quipped, winking at Neptune and still not even glancing at the road that his car was practically devouring.

“What the hell are you talking about?! Just keep your fucking eyes on the road, you absolute maniac, or I’m going to have an actual stroke!!” Neptune screamed, his lungs in his throat and his heart hammering in his chest. He was going to tear the leather upholstery with how hard he was gripping it.

Sun laughed. Laughed! Like they weren’t doing something highly illegal and could die at any second! “We’re not gonna hit anyone! Hey, dude, do you dare me to beat one-fifteen?”

“No!”

More laughter. That laughter was going to be the last thing he ever heard.

Sun finally got what he was looking for. He wiped the CD (who still used CDs?) off on his tank top and popped it into the player. Big band jazz music blew from the speakers, the bass cranked up because of course it was. Still. Jazz? Trumpetey, 1920s, New Orleans jazz?

“What the fuck is this?!”

“You really lose your censor when you’re out of work,” Sun said, leaning casually back into his seat, seemingly ignoring his hair flying in every direction from the wind, and facing directly towards Neptune to speak.

“No, I don’t! I think it’s the life or death situation I’m currently facing!”

“My driving isn’t that bad,” Sun pouted, his eyes wide again. Damn those eyes, how dare they look like they’d been plucked straight from a noon day sky.

“Shut the fuck up and stop giving me those puppy eyes! Keep your goddamn eyes on the- You almost hit that sign watchoutwatchoutwatchoutwatchout holy fucking shit!!”

Neptune’s face was suddenly freezing, what with all the blood draining out of it and all. His hand had made its way to his heart somehow, bunching up in the fabric, while his other arm pressed up against the car door as if that would help if they hit something. If he had a heart monitor on, it would read well over one hundred.

“Puppy eyes?” Sun asked, said eyes lighting up once again and that fucking grin spreading across his face.

No. Oh God no.

“It’s a thing you do, Shut up a-”

“You noticed a thing I do?” He sounded delighted. God fucking dammit, what the hell?! Neptune was having a fever dream. That was it. He was dying of a horrible sickness, and this was the torture his brain had conjured up for him.

“Dumbass! Holy shit! Please just focus on the road!”

Sun sped up.

“No. No no no nononono!!”

“Yes yes hell fucking yes!!”

Neptune glanced over. Sun was grinning from ear to ear. A spot light that split the darkness. A smile for punching the sun, for setting off illegal fireworks just to have some color in the sky. A smile for street racing at unimaginable speeds just to bond with a barista he barely knew.

“You’re actually planning on killing me,” Neptune panicked, at whatever could pass for a normal tone of voice in this death trap. “If this was a trick to kill me, congratulations, it’s fucking working!”

Sun had the audacity to laugh. “I’m actually going to die in this neon blue convertible with a maniac at the steering wheel!” Neptune yelped, the calm demeanor his horrified realization had brought gone in an instant.

“Wow, you’re morbid!” Sun laughed. “Chill out, dude! I just want to get a little air!” His grip tightened on the steering wheel and he leaned forward as if that would make them go faster.

“A little…?!”

Neptune un-squinted his eyes and focused on the road up ahead. Sure enough, there lay a steep hill that Neptune had somehow managed to forget about. How could he? He drove up it every morning and back down it every night. It made your stomach fly up into your throat even at regular speeds.

“This is suicide!” Neptune cried, gripping his seat belt tight enough to snap it right in two.

“Not if we don’t die!”

“If we don’t die, we get arrested! That’s not better! You get how that’s not better, right?!”

“How is dying better than getting arrested? Besides, there are never any cops here!”

“You’re insane!”

“We’re almost there!”

“I’m going to vomit! Seriously, I swear to Go-”

“Hold on!” Sun yelled, teeth bared in a face splitting grin and eyes bright with manic fire.

Everything in the car went flying, including its passengers. Miraculously, that flight was only an inch or so out of their seat and not through the windshield. Still, the experience of rocketing over a hill at hundred of miles per hour speeds while bass-boosted jazz blared out of the speakers was a unique experience that Neptune never wanted to repeat.

Neptune’s seat belt caught him as he threatened to fly overboard. Sun was cheering his head off, Neptune was too terrified for any sound to escape his throat. His voice seemed to have been left on the pavement below.

There was a split second where he could have sworn that time froze and he was able to watch Sun’s huge eyes crackle with electricity and excitement. The red leaves of the trees on either side of the road swished with the new wind. The road beneath them blurred, the center lines losing all meaning. All within half a second.

But then their tires bounced once, then twice, and finally they were on the road again.

And Sun was grinding to a halt.

And swerving into a ditch.

He let the car turn completely sideways, pressing down hard into the brake. Dirt flew up around them along with clumps of grass and a few pieces of Neptune’s remaining sanity.

They lurched forward, then stilled.

And Sun hollered. “Holy shit that was awesome!!”

Neptune’s voice returned. “Am I dead?” he asked, frozen stock still in his seat, too scared to move.

“Not yet, bro!”

There was silence for a moment. Then a laugh bubbled out of Neptune. And another. And he was grabbing at his stomach in an effort to control them.

“I’ve never heard you laugh before,” Sun chuckled.

“I guess,” -a laugh break- “I save them for near-death experiences!”

Sun giggled a little. Then he joined, too.

Both of them clutched their sides with the laughing, and the more Sun laughed the more Neptune laughed because his laugh was so infectious it was annoying, but Neptune couldn’t find it in him to be annoyed. It faded in and out from high pitched snickers through his teeth and tongue to deep roaring claps of thunder. Woodland pixie. Hearty ship captain.

“Why the hell do you have bright yellow aviators, dumbass? That’s so lame!” Neptune cackled, pulling them off his head and wiping tears from behind his glasses.

“Why the hell do you have blue freaking hair? Like, more blue than my car! What the fuck?!” Sun pointed out before sputtering into more indistinguishable laughing.

They both slid down further and further into the leather seats, their shoes resting on the dashboard, the occasional putter of laughter from one of them sending both back into a laughing competition that their sides couldn’t handle anymore.

The wind messed up Sun’s hair. Bad. All that gel helped when it was styled correctly, but when Mother Nature had her way with it, it turned into a hot mess. Or just a mess. It splayed out around his head, combining with the straw yellow color and making his head look like he’d jumped into a haystack and a fan at the same time. The back just stood off his neck, straight up in the air like someone had just ordered it to attention.

He kept running his hands all through it. Like it helped. Neptune probably didn’t look that great either.

Sun’s chest was heaving with laughter and adrenaline, and there were bright pink spots high on his cheeks. His sparse freckles dotted under his flush and speckled like constellations across the arms brushing back his hair. Bright yellow hair framing eyes like drops of sky.

“Do you want me to take you back to your car?”

Neptune opened his eyes. Woozily, he addressed his surroundings. Sun was inches away from his face, eyebrows pressed together, one hand climbing through his messy hair. Had they been…? No. No stop. Neptune had just passed out from exhaustion and Sun was waking him up. That was all that had happened.

How late was it? The orange and pink shades of sunset scraped against the tops of the red-leaved trees that closed in around them. It shone through the gaps of the trunks in slats that blinded Neptune momentarily and lit up the flecks of gold in Sun’s blue eyes.

What was happening?

Sun just asked him a question. Focus Neptune.

“Uh. Yeah. Sure.” He thought for a second. Sun was still really close to his face, and for some reason his thoughts were moving more slowly than normal. He could count the individual freckles speckling his cheeks. “I won the bet.”

“It wasn’t really a bet. Just an agreement,” Sun murmured, his eyes flicking over Neptune’s face as if trying to memorize it.

“Sure, sure, but I survived.” He was too close. Why was he so close?

“Yeah,” Sun said, finally leaning back and rubbing the back of his neck almost sheepishly. “Am I really that bad of a driver?”

“Don’t make me start laughing again.”

Sun smiled bright enough to light up a dark room and clapped a hand on Neptune’s shoulder before starting up the car.

His hand was warm. Calloused and huge, and warm. Neptune definitely did not glance down at it.

Nope. Totally did not do that.

#rwby #neptune vasilias #sun wukong #seamonkeys #mine #my writing #coffee shop rwby #writing wednesday #chapter 7 #shouting in cafes

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