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chaesparklez · 9 months ago

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금빛 노을 아래 한 고백 | gunwook x reader

wc: 1.5k

reader: gender neutral

content: flashfic, fluff, some teasing, romance, school setting, kissing, fluttery feelings <3

a/n: this is my first time writing for gunwook! the title translates to ‘a confession under a golden sunset’. as my bias wrecker he has such a special place in my heart and i hope my writing captured him as beautifully as he is. also added the bibi song since i had it on repeat writing this and feel like it encapsulates the vibe of this scenario so well. enjoy!

warm sunlight streams through the blinds spilling onto the desks of the empty classroom, silent aside from the distant sounds of a few students shuffling through the corridors going home after their extracurriculars.

the classroom is bathed in a golden glow from the the waning sun. you stretch your hand out before you, waving your fingers and tilting your head to the side as you watch the silhouette of your hand dancing on the wall before you. you bring your hand closer to your eyes so the dark shadow draws nearer and nearer till it obliviates the wall in a mass of black...

"hey! what are you doing?"

you jump so hard you nearly scream. gunwook leans against the doorway with a cheshire cat grin plastered on his face.

"what the hell gunwook?? god, you startled me. my heart's beating so fast." you scowl.

"isn't that just because you like me?"

"what the fuck."

you and gunwook had a contentious relationship. in simple terms, he always annoyed the hell out of you. you don't even know when he popped into your life, but all of a sudden he was always around you, teasing you and pulling pranks acting like you'd known eachother for years. you weren't sure whether you found it funny or just annoying.

'where even were you? teacher kim put us both on cleaning duty today.'

"why are you so interested in me?" he replies, wiggling his eyebrows in mocking.

you roll your eyes. "whatever. i'm halfway done anyway," you sigh. taking the chalkboard eraser and beginning to wipe logarithms from the board with long swipes.

he clears his throat.

"hey... im sorry. i actually wanted to help this time." he says, scratching the back of his head and giving you a bashful look.

you snicker. "what the hell? why are you being nice to me? are you going to shove a fake cockroach down my shirt again?"

he'd already tried that one three times this week, the last time culminating in you chasing him down the hallway screaming and being caught by teacher kim- hence you both ending up on cleaning duty.

he begins to move closer.

"do not come closer, park gunwook. i swear to god, one more fake cockroach and you'll be on the floor crying."

"no, i-"

the classroom is suddenly filled with an eruption of screams and laughter. gunwook hadn't listened to you (as usual) continuing to grow nearer- so you'd clapped the erasers in his face creating a poof of chalkboard dust in the air.

"what was that for?" he coughs, tempting to wave away the billow of dust.

"it's what you get!" you jeer, happy to have caught him off guard for once.

you place the erasers back and begin to sweep. gunwook follows you with all the manner of a lost puppy, just awkwardly trailing next to you as you make your away around the room.

"gunwook, i literally can't see with your big head in the way."

"what do you mean big??"

"your shadow is so massive it's covering the floor and i can't see."

"don't make things up."

"i'm not! look at your shadow! you’re practically blocking the sun like a titan.”

"well.. don't you like tall guys?"

you pause at the sudden but earnest question. a pale pink blush was seeping across his cheeks, his eyes fixed on some other spot in the room. what was wrong with him today?

you sigh, too tired to ponder on it, and continue sweeping.

"what are you even saying.." you mumble in reply. 'just get out of my way.'

"okay, fine. is there at least a task for me to do?"

"go sharpen the pencils. at least make yourself useful if you're gonna bother me."

"sung hanbin." he says from the other side of the room.

"what?" you swivel your head to where gunwook stands sharpening the pencils. his eyes hadn't left the floor, continuing his task calmly.

he stays silent so you draw nearer to him, puzzled. "what do you mean?" you ask again.

"you mentioned it to haneul the other day," he says quietly. 'that you like sung hanbin. that he's so kind, and dances so well, and he's so tall..."

you squint your eyes at him. did he listen to your conversations?

‘i'm tall too. my mom said by the time i turn 21 i'll be 190cm.’ he says, knuckles white as his hand grips the pencil sharpener. he pauses. ‘and im taller than sung hanbin.’

"what are you even saying?" you laugh. you place the broom aside and perch yourself on a desk. 'why are you suddenly mentioning him?'

"what's your ideal type?" he asks suddenly, voice cracking a little at the end of the sentence.

you snort and nearly blurt out a tart reply before noticing he's not teasing you. his blush had spread across his cheeks as he stared down at his hands bashfully. you blink, confused at this awkward vibe he's been channelling since earlier. you clear your throat attempting to think of an answer.

"well.. i mean, i don't have a fixed type. i guess it depends on the person. and i don't *like* sung hanbin," you say, attempting not to make a sarcastic remark. 'i just think he's handsome. like literally everyone else at school.'

"so you do like him?"

"oh my god, gunwook, i just said no. why does it even matter anyway? do *you* like me?" you say, exasperated.

his pupils waver as he stops sharpening the pencil for a second. he swallows.

"and what if i did?"

"i'd throw myself off the roof,” unable to hold in the sarcastic reply this time. what was he even getting at?

he places the tools down, his eyes finally breaking away from the pencil and gazing at yours.

"am i really that bad to you?" he asks, pupils wavering in his big brown eyes.

you're so caught off guard by his docility that you just blurt whatever comes to mind.

"i-i mean, i didn't mean it that way. you make me laugh, and you're smart, and you are tall like you said.. but you're always teasing me so i never thought of you that way.."

gunwook begins to take slow steps towards you, visage illuminated by the sunset.

"do you know why i always tease you?"

you blink, heart racing.

"because i want your attention. i want you to notice me, to look at me. i like your laugh, and your expression when i annoy you, and everything about you makes me want to carry on making you notice me. you’re always on my mind."

somewhere through his monologue your heart had started beating so hard you could almost see the pulsations through your white shirt. your pupils waver as you look at him.

"do you understand what im saying?" he asks.

"gunwook, i..." you say, voice coming out in a whisper.

"i like you."

your heart almost stops beating. now standing before you as you perched on the desk so you had to crane your neck up slightly to meet his shining eyes. he swallows as he gazes into your eyes, expression soft.

and in the golden glow of sunlight, you notice for the first time that he is beautiful. the sun illuminates his eyes the shade of honey, his jet black hair moving gently over his dark brows from the balmy wind breezing through the classrooms. and he really was so tall. tall, with wide shoulders and big hands that would give the warmest safest hugs…

he gently places a large hand on the small of your back, the distance between you even smaller now. the sound of a nearby wind-chime rings softly from the window as you look up into his eyes, your gaze travelling down to his lips.

and he kisses you. gently, sweetly, the rashness that you knew him for distant. his touch is delicate, the temperature of his warm hand on your back relaxing you into his embrace. his full lips are soft and warm against yours. he cups your face with his other hand, thumb brushing over your cheek. you lock your hands around his neck, melting into his touch.

his lips part and move in time with your own, allowing you to deepen the kiss. in that moment, your heart feels full and warm in his gentle embrace. both your hearts beat wildly as you slowly retract, hearing the quiet sound of each other's rugged breaths. your lips tingle with the lingering sensation of his lips on yours, your eyes remaining on his as you stare at his face inches from you.

his skin golden from the sunlight, rosy cheeks glowing, you suddenly feel the urge to touch his soft skin. you brush a finger along his smooth cheek, feeling the heat of his skin from the blush. he smiles as he looks into your eyes, and you notice something for the first time: a faint dimple on his right cheek. the very smile that you had always found so annoying, you had suddenly become fond of at the sight of it.

“i never noticed you had a dimple there before,” you whisper, caressing his cheek.

“look at me more from now on. i’ll smile lots for you,” he replies, taking your hand and leaving a gentle kiss on your knuckle.

the sound of the wind-chime harmonises with the laughter you share, dust particles floating and shimmering in the air under the golden sunset.

#zerobaseone #zb1 #zb1 fanfiction #zb1 fics #zb1 imagines #chaesparklez #zb1 fluff #zb1 gunwook #zerobaseone x reader #zerobaseone gunwook #zb1 scenarios #kpop ff #park gunwook #gunwook x reader #gunwook imagines #gunwook fluff #gunwook scenarios #Spotify

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amongsnot · 6 months ago

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there are baby shoes in your drawer.

you don’t know how long they’ve been in there—a month, a year, perhaps even two—just that they are gently tucked into the right corner, taking space on top of a toddler onesie.

you sit down on the edge of your bed, cradling the shoes between your hands; cupped like a dove. you tentatively pick one up (turning it around with squinted eyes) and read the size on the back. it reads a number that you do not understand.

but you once did, and there are baby shoes in your drawer, and you are not a baby.

you are eighteen. you are eighteen with a job (to a store you’ve never bought a toy from) and a family (that does not love you) and a life (that does not feel like yours).

and the baby shoes did not belong to you eighteen years ago. they are new and shine and your mother would never buy you something this nice.

the baby shoes are chaste in the front from where a little kid took their first steps. the shoes are tied (double knotted with care and worry). the shoes were put in your bedside table with a precarious sort of caution. the shoes belonged to a baby that was loved, and you did not know that feeling eighteen years ago.

there are baby shoes in your drawer, and they are purple.

you frown and put them on top of your bedside table, next to the tank without fish.

you pull out the onesie that belongs to a toddler next, unfolding it and holding it out in front of you. it has a pun on the front that makes you smile. (“my brother mayde dis shirt!” it reads. then, in a small font underneath. “he cant spel.”)

and you know that this onesie does not belong to you either, because you never had a brother. your parents would rather kill you and then each other before having another kid. your mom still glares at you in the bathroom mirror when she looks at her stretch marks. your dad still forgets to unlock the door when you come home from school.

you would never have a brother; but that’s fine. it’s what you’ve grown accustomed to, after all.

so you would never have a brother, and there is a onesie in your hands.

and there are baby shoes on your bedside table.

you examine the onesie further, checking it for stains or grease marks or rips. you check it for signs that it has been lived in, and you are surprised to see that there are none. this is not the ending you want, though; it is not the ending that the kid with the onesie and the purple shoes deserves.

you run a hand through the neck hole and pull at the cloth from the inside, desperately searching for a sign that this kid had been loved. you glance upwards, through the entryway to your bedroom and at the mirror hanging on the wall in the hallway (there is no physical door to your room. your parents had it removed as soon as they could). you check your own clothes, noting the wrinkled creases and year-old stains. you look at the onesie in your hands and search for everything that you don’t recognize: grass stains from playing outside and food stains from yummy meals. rips from growth spurts and baby drool.

there is nothing, and you come to the terrifying realization that this kid will grow up to be just like you.

the world does not need another one of you.

perhaps you should do something about that. stop it before it happens.

subconsciously, you run a hand through the hole for the neck and check the inside, and then you run a hand through the sleeves, pushing something hard and sharp out of the other end.

you pull your hand out and grab the card, and you pull your hand away from it just to leave a red stain, but you do not care because youve had babysitter who have done worse damage.

(“happy fifth birthday poof!” the card reads, accompanied by a small doodle of a balloon.)

there are three lines that have been scribbled out, before the writer finally decided on a meek “i love you.” and your hand shakes. you can feel a tear run down your cheek, landing on the card next to a similar water stain.

you throw the card across the room and bury your face into the piece of clothing. you don’t know why you’re crying now, when you’ve never cried once in your whole life. you don’t know why you recognize the hand writing on the card. you don’t know why you know what the three lines scribbled out say (“i’m going to miss you.” “it’s better this way!” “you’re going to do great things, i wish i could be there to watch.”).

you don’t know why you bought a purple onesie with a card addressed to a person you don’t know.

you don’t know why you don’t know.

all you know is that there is a card on the floor of your bedroom, and a purple onesie in your lap.

and a pair of baby shoes on your bedside table.

#yeah chat i’ve been having feelings recently #i wrote this in like ten minutes but i needed to say some stuff #its unedited #timmy turner #nicktoons #cosmo and wanda #poof fairywinkle cosmay #my fics #i wrote it on my phone #this was a struggle

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emmu5 · 5 days ago

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Title: A Love Worth Fighting For

James Potter X Y/N

Summary: At 22, James Potter and Y/N are building a life filled with love, laughter, and a little bit of chaos. James is an Auror, Y/N is a rising star in the wizarding world’s theater scene, and they have a two-year-old son, Liam, with another baby on the way. In the midst of balancing careers and family, they’re about to discover that love isn’t just about magic—it’s about holding on through every challenge life throws their way.

MASTERLIST

The Potter home was alive with warmth and chaos. Sunlight filtered through the large kitchen windows, casting a golden glow over the breakfast table. Y/N stood at the stove, flipping pancakes with her wand while balancing her ever-growing baby bump. At her feet, two-year-old Liam was determined to capture a runaway blueberry.

“Got it!” Liam declared triumphantly, holding up the squished fruit.

“You’re a hero, love,” Y/N said, smiling as she turned back to the stove. She felt a flutter of movement in her belly, and her smile widened. Little Olivia was an active one already.

Just as she plated the pancakes, the door swung open, and James entered, fresh from Auror training. His hair was as messy as ever, and his Auror robes were draped over his arm.

“Daddy!” Liam squealed, abandoning the blueberry to run straight into James’s arms.

“Hey, little man!” James lifted him effortlessly, spinning him around until they were both laughing. He pressed a kiss to Liam’s forehead before setting him down and heading straight to Y/N.

“How are my two favorite girls?” James asked, wrapping his arms around her from behind and resting his hands on her bump.

“Hungry,” Y/N said with a grin. “Olivia’s going to be a big eater if this morning is anything to go by.”

James leaned down to kiss her cheek. “Good thing I’m home in time for breakfast, then.”

They sat together at the table, the three of them sharing stories between bites. Liam proudly demonstrated his latest “spell” (which was really just him waving a toy wand and shouting, “Poof!”), and Y/N couldn’t stop laughing when James dramatically pretended to fall under his “curse.”

Later that afternoon, Y/N found herself in the nursery, folding tiny pink onesies and arranging baby blankets. Her mind wandered to how much their lives had changed since Hogwarts. She remembered the days when James was all about Quidditch matches and Marauder pranks, and she was chasing dreams on the wizarding stage. Now, they were parents, partners, and still madly in love.

“Thinking too hard again?”

James appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a grin. He crossed the room in a few strides and took her hand.

“I was just thinking about how lucky I am,” Y/N admitted. “This life we’ve built... it’s everything I never knew I wanted.”

James’s expression softened. “I feel the same way. Every single day.”

They stood there, just holding each other, until a small voice interrupted.

“Daddy, come play!”

James laughed. “Duty calls.” He kissed Y/N’s forehead before heading off to chase Liam around the house.

That night, after Liam was tucked in and the house had settled, Y/N and James sat together on the sofa, their hands intertwined. The stars outside their window twinkled like they had back in their Hogwarts days.

“You ready for two little Potters running around?” Y/N teased.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” James said. “But we’ll figure it out. We always do.”

Y/N rested her head on his shoulder, feeling content and at peace. They had faced every challenge together—and no matter what the future held, she knew they would continue to build a life full of love, laughter, and just a touch of magic.

#harry potter short story #harry potter #hogwarts #harry potter imagine #james potter #james potter x reader #the marauders #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #james potter x y/n #the marauders imagine

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peachiejeongin · 3 months ago

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The Phantoms Part 3: Bright | Bang Chan

Synopsis: With a regained passion for music, y/n decides to take it upon herself to get back into her high school's music program. Of course, she needs a little help from a certain three phantoms...

Pairing: phantom!Bang Chan x fem!reader (Reader takes the place of Julie Molina from Julie and the Phantoms) [Occurs somewhat in this chapter]

Genre: Julie and the Phantoms/3RACHA AU, Crack, Angst, Fluffy Moments

Warnings: Grief of a lost parent, slight mentions of negative home lives, slight mentions of homophobia

Notice: Hello, my loves! I have been feeling a bit ill the past couple of days, but I still want to update this story as much as possible :) I want to go ahead and preface that in this chapter, there is mention of Han being gay since he takes the place of Alex in the original show. I would like to follow this up by stating I do not actually believe Han is gay in real life; I do not know Stray Kids personally, therefore I do not know their sexual orientations. I wanted to get that out of the way so there was no confusion! Additionally, like the other chapters, I hold no rights to 'Julie and the Phantoms,' nor any of its characters! Enjoy part three! Fair warning, it is LONG lol!

You clutched the song in your arms, holding it in a tight embrace as if it could escape you at any moment. Tears fell down your face as your saddened gaze shut tightly. In the aftermath of your powerful performance, you felt a swirl of emotions, including pride, grief and even a twinge of haze.

Despite the confusing plethora of moods, one thought stood out in your mind: you had rediscovered your love for music, the hobby that made your soul sing, and with it, you had found pieces of yourself you thought had passed on with your mother.

You were unaware of the presence of Chan, Han, and Changbin stood behind you, their expressions flickering between sympathy, awe, and uncertainty. As Chan had stated prior, the song was a demonstration of your mother's extraordinary talent in songwriting, and they were absolutely mesmerized at how effortlessly you had performed the ballad; however, admist their admiration,the boys remained confused about one lingering aspect.

Why did you lie?

In spite of telling them you did not play the piano, the melody they witnessed moments earlier significantly debunked your claim. They were perplexed as to why you would feel the need to fabricate your talent.

Those thoughts were immediately pushed aside when the boys heard you lightly sobbing; they felt their hearts twinge at the soft noise, their expressions softening into ones of condolence.

Han instinctually stepped forward to give you a hug, forgetting both that he could not make physical contact with you and that you did not know that he was behind you; however, Chan grabbed onto his shoulder to stop him, shaking his head as if to say, "Don't." Chan shot a glance at Changbin before moving his finger around in a circle, symboling for them to make their leave.

The three warped outside of the garage, Han immediately making his way over to Chan. The sun was fully beaming over the earth, its translucent rays highlighting the band; there was a freshness in the air, which conflicted with the rigidity of Han's footsteps.

"Dude, why'd you stop me?" Han asked the older boy, befuddlement wrapping around his demeanor. "Y/n needed a hug!"

"Bro, a ghost hug isn't the feel-good moment that you think it is," Chan responded, adjusting the hem of his blue, sleeveless jacket; his tone was understanding yet firm. "Trust me. What she needs right now is just a bit of privacy." Han clicked his tongue, his gaze hardening slightly.

"You know, I think you poofed us out because you can't handle when other people cry," Han retaliated in a surprisingly stern tone of voice, causing Chan to widen his eyes in shock. "I should know. I cried in a room for 29 years, and I didn't get a single hug from either of you!" His dialogue had now shifted towards both Chan and Changbin as he motioned his pointer finger between the two guys, his voice breaking as he complained. The vicinity was silent, almost tense for a moment, broken only by Changbin releasing a sympathetic sigh.

"Alright, bring it in," Changbin spoke softly as he opened his arms to embrace the younger male; however, Han quickly threw a back-hand up in protest.

"Don't touch me!" he yelled. Changbin stepped back, the gentle beam fading from his features as he slowly lowered his arms.

"This is why no one hugs you!" he mumbled aggravatedly to Han, eliciting a quiet yet frustrated sigh from the latter.

"O...kay," Chan commented, extremely bewildered at what had just happened. "Look, I think the first thing we should do, once we get the courage to go in there is ask y/n..." Chan paused to look back at the garage, letting out a perplexed breath, "why she lied about playing the piano."

"Yeah," Han agreed. "Maybe tell her how amazing she is," he added onto Chan's proposition, earning an, "of course!" from the Australian.

"She's legit!" Changbin exclaimed. "I got ghost bumps." Changbin rubbed his arms in order to harp upon his play on words. Suddenly, the soft creek of the gate echoed behind them, followed by the sound of quiet sobs. Flynn appeared, her steps unhurriedly striding and her head hung in sorrow. The boys' gazes snapped to her as she entered the studio, their expressions morphing from surprise to concern then forming into panic.

"Was she crying, too?" Han asked meekly.

"Yes!" Chan threw his hands down anxiously, and he dragged out the affirming word alarmingly. "And the only thing worse than one girl crying is two girls crying!" He held up the respective amount of fingers for both numbers he enunciated upon; his voice was laced with dismay.

"He's right," Han told Changbin in the audibility of a whisper.

"Guys, we definitely can't go in there now!" Chan's voice came out in a panicked rush, his usual composure cracking.

"But!" Changbin suddenly perked his head up, a light-bulb brightening in his head. "We can listen." The three guys nodded and made their way over to the garage doors, Han giving Changbin a pat on the back for his clever idea. The three heads peered into the thin windows of the studio and listened in on the girls' conversation.

"Your dad said you'd be out here," Flynn got your attention, her hands shoved in the pockets of her black jacket. You flicked your head upwards to face her, which caused Chan, Changbin, and Han to duck down out of view; they could not see the two of you anymore, but they could still hear you.

"We need to talk," she bluntly continued as she approached the piano.

"Are you okay?" you asked while readjusting your sheet music so it leaned neatly against the front of the sleek, wooden instrument.. Flynn shut her eyes tight in response, an expression of dejection etched onto her face.

"No, I'm not okay!" she shrieked out. "You just got kicked out of the music program!" Her words were full of sorrow, yet they had a hyper undertone. "I've been up all night thinking about what I was going to say! I may have drank seven sodas in the process, but I need to get this out."

That explained the hyperactivity.

"Wait, I have something to tell you." You threw your hands on top of each other in a criss-cross fashion, your fingers brushing lightly against the sleek wood of the piano; you were anxious to tell her both about 3RACHA and about your consolidation in your music.

"No, it's my turn to talk," Flynn stressfully interjected. "You can't give up music! Your music is a gift, and wasting your talent would be a tragedy! You're basically cancelling Christmas, and I love Christmas!"

"Flynn, I-"

"Nuh uh!"

You pressed your lips closed, your eyes having a glint of humor within them as your best friend continued her caffienated ramble.

"When we were six, we promied to be in a band together! Double Trouble!"

"I never agreed to that name," you breathily countered, causing Flynn to roll her eyes and come around to your side of the piano.

"That's not the point! Y/n, if you leave the music program, we'll be apart forever!" Flynn's hands waved in front of her, accentuating her words as they shifted around nervously yet matter-of-factly. "That's just what happens! Sure, we'll see each other in the halls sometimes, but..." Flynn halted her words to let out a deep exhale and shake her head, "we'll have different lives! Make new friends!"

"That's not true," you reassured Flynn with a tone of soft certainty. Flynn pursed her lips together.

"You're right," she agreed, and you felt relieved. However, the ease only lasted for a moment, before she continued. "I won't be making any new friends! And the only time we'll contact each other is when we like each other's social media posts! Everytime I tap on that digital heart," Flynn's eyes began to lightly well up with tears, "my real heart will be breaking because my best friend left me and...ugh, do you have any soda? My head hurts." She clutched a hand over her forehead, bringing attention to her point as you tilted your head.

"Can I talk now?" you asked calmly in contrast to the girl's hyper demeanor. She dropped her hand down and sighed.

"Fine."

"I just played the piano and sang again," you explained, making her glance towards the piano then back at you.

"What?! Why didn't you just say so?!" Her tone had shifted from the previous depression to a present joy.

"I was trying before your seven sodas kicked in!" you teased, using your hand to motion up and down towards her. Flynn looked as if she was about to cry, scream, or alternate between the two out of joy.

"I'm so happy for you!" She grabbed your shoulders and shook you excitedly. "And me!" You giggled at your best friends words as she released you in order to move her hands down in victory.

"Look at you," she remarked, her tone lowering by several octaves, "looking all, I don't know, alive again?!"

Flynn carried an unshakable sense of pride within her heart for you; after all, the two of you had been inseparable since elementary school, and she had been the first to notice the cracks forming in your spirit after your mom passed away, watching helplessly as you began to drift away from the character she knew and loved. Thus, she could not be more pumped that you were back to normal; it was like she was meeting her best friend all over again.

"Right?!" you concurred happily. "It's like I drank seven sodas!" You pointed to yourself, your comment making her smile brightly; the holly was brief, Flynn's expression turning into one of intrigue.

"What made you decide to play again?" she asked, originating a solemn yet serene expression from your end. You grabbed the sheet music you had arranged as she arrived and slid it towards her.

"I found this song my mom wrote me." Flynn took the plethora of papers, skimming over the lyrics; reading the song alone made her own heart twinge.

"Woah," was all she could muster.

"I know," you replied in a low voice. "I was so scared to play it. Anything involving music reminds me of her." You glanced up from the keys to look at Flynn, a bright manner overtaking your dignified stance. "Then I woke up this morning, realizing that's exactly why I should play it. To keep her memory alive."

"Awe, bring it in!" Flynn opened her arms, hugging you tightly. The moment only lasted for a few seconds, however, as Flynn quickly jerked away while gasping.

"We need to tell Mrs. Jeon you can play so you can stay in school, and my life won't be that sad picture I just painted for you!" She took your hands in hers, smiling fondly. "My girl is back! Double Trouble lives on!" She held her hand up in a fist, turning around as if she was a superstar on the red carpet.

"Not our band name!" you reminded her as you went to grab your backpack from the corner of the studio.

"I gave you a t-shirt in seventh grade that says otherwise!" Flynn retaliated as she followed after you. As the two of you made your way out of the garage, the 3RACHA boys began to panic; they quickly scrambled into positions that made it look as if they had not just been listening to every detail of the conversation. Han propped his arm on the ledge beside of the door and began to fiddle with the lightbox, Chan put an arm behind his head and whistled at the wind, and Changbin sat down on the ground crossing his legs and looking downwards.

"Oh, hey!" you greeted them as you walked out of the studio; you caught Chan's attention first, the latter nodding in a 'sup motion. The action was miniscule, yet it made your heart flutter. The other two flashed brief, guilty smiles towards you. On the other hand, Flynn turned around as if you had called her attention; you had forgotten she could not see the boys.

"Hey! Let's hustle," you quickly covered your tracks, making it seem as if you were talking to her and not not the invisible band. "Don't wanna be late!" You ran to link arms with Flynn, waving goodbye to the boys and them reciprocating the actions.

"Bye, y/n!" Changbin yelled. "Have a great day that we have no idea what's going to happen in because we weren't listening!" Chan's eyes narrowed as he landed a kick to Changbin's leg; your eyes furrowed at the action, but they quickly relaxed as Chan gave you another toothy grin, your cheeks going red at the action.

This dynamic was going to be strange. You could feel it.

Chan's eyes lingered upon you as you walked away, his heart feeling a weird type of twinge within; it was not negative by any means, but he did not understand it.

"Guys, weird question," Changbin began as you had vanished from their line of sight. "Can we uh, can we go see my family?"

"What?" Chan's head motioned backwards, his eyes still fixated on where you had once been.

"My family," Changbin repeated. "Can we go see them? Y'know, just check in on them?"

"Yeah, man, of course," Chan replied as he, Changbin, and Han transported themselves to Changbin's family home.

Or so they thought.

---

"Believe me, y/n, I think it's wonderful that you're singing again." You and Flynn stood awkwardly as your teacher spoke; you had decided that you would ask her if there was a chance at getting back into the music program.

"I always hoped the day would come when you would get back into music," she continued as she set up a composition on the piano. "I'm afraid it's too late, though. You knew the deal."

"Please, Mrs. Jeon, just listen to her play!" Flynn pleaded with her on your behalf. "You know y/n is amazing when she plays! That's gotta count for something!"

"I wish it did," the older woman spoke with regret in her voice. "There's a new student set to take your spot tomorrow." Upon this realization, you nodded your head sorrowfully, looking up at the ceiling in attempts not to cry.

"You know there's only-"

"So many spots," you finished the motto of the program for her as she nodded in agreement. "If I don't play, I don't stay. I know." Mrs. Jeon approached you, taking her glasses off before talking.

"I tried, y/n," she confessed, nearly on the brink of tears. "I fought tooth and nail to keep you in this program. I can't change the director's mind. Yesterday was your last chance. Your only option from here is to reapply next school year." You looked down at the ground, feeling silly at pushing your passions to the side and letting your fear overtake you. At that moment, the bell rang to dismiss class; your teacher gave you one final glance as you walked away.

"I'm truly sorry, y/n."

---

"A bike shack right where my house used to be." Changbin stood dejected, Chan resting his arm on the former's shoulder and Han staring longingly at the sandy ground. The three had teleported on the beachside where Changbin used to live; lively residents played volleyball and swam in the background as the unseen bandmates stood sorrowfully.

"I'm sorry man," Chan apologized as Changbin's eyes welled up, patting the latter's chest.

"They made the Yangs' house into a restaurant," Changbin commented, pointing to the aforementioned diner. "Why couldn't they have made mine a pizzeria or something?"

"They tore down the whole neighborhood," Han had looked up from the ground, motioning to the entire empty lot; when they were kids, the bayside was filled with life. Houses lotted every corner, a park stood in the centerfold for the kids, and multiple small businesses were scattered around the empty spaces.

It was all gone, just as they were.

"I guess that means my parents are gone," Changbin sighed.

"Everyone's gone," Han responded as Changbin turned to face him. "Twenty-nine years gone like that," Han snapped to emphasize. "Our parents, our friends, Hyunjin, everyone!"

"Hyunjin, that's right," Changbin thought of their rhythm guitarist for the first time since they had rematerialized. "I guess he got lucky. What ever happened to him?"

"He probably aged like everyone else and moved on," Chan stated matter-of-factly while kicking his feet at the ground; he had moved from standing beside Changbin to sitting on a park bench across from his two friends. "No one wants to stay in a town where three of their best friends died."

"Dude, how are you so cool about all of this?" Han asked Chan, confused at how calm the older had been acting this entire time. "Don't you want to figure out what happened? To Hyunjin, our parents, anyone?"

"Han, let's be real for a second," Chan retaliated. "It's not like any of us were that close to our families anyways! My parents always regretted buying me my guitar, and my sister never bothered to come see me once I left. Changbin, your parents were one fight away from divorcing, and Han, your parents were never cool again once you came out to them." Han and Changbin fixed their stares upon the ground once more, sadness overtaking their features.

"Okay, none of us had it great," Han replied while huffing. "But at least we had something! You know what we have now? Nothing. And before one of you says cool teleportation skills, just know that I am not necessarily a fan of that! It tingles," Han squirmed uncomfortably. "In really weird places!"

Changbin pursed his lips in confusion, narrowing his eyes judgingly at the younger bandmate; on the other hand, Chan tilted his head as he fought back laughter.

"I'll tell you what we had," Chan rose from the park bench, taking a few steps towards the other two. "It's what we've had since the day we met! Since we formed 3RACHA!" Han and Changbin looked at each other, perplexed at what Chan meant; the oldest of the three sighed. "We have each other! We are the only family we're ever gonna need. And there's one more thing we have!"

"Death breath?" Changbin inquired, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets.

"Our music, you dork," Chan chuckled as he pointed towards Changbin; Han and Changbin still seemed wonderous. "People, actual people, can hear us play! Sure, we can't be seen, but we can be felt! It's like I said outside of the Orpheum that night: our music connects us with people! I just wish I had my guitar!"

As if an invisible genie were floating beside Chan, his guitar suddenly appeared, causing him to spin around from the impact, barely catching it in his grasp. His eyes widened in awe as he stared down at the instrument.

"Woah!" Changbin explained. "That was awesome! How'd you do that?!"

"I don't know!" Chan answered honestly. "I mean, I wished for it, and then it appeared!" Upon finishing his statement, Changbin squatted down and held his hands open.

"I wish I had a puppy!" He winced, expecting a puppy to appear in his hands as Chan's guitar had; he opened his eyes slightly, feeling disappointed yet trying again. "A hamster?" Nothing. "Pizza?!" he sighed exasperatedly on his final attempt, kicking at the sand and plopping onto the ground frustratedly whilst pouting.

"Hey," Chan leaned down to teasingly smack Changbin's shoulder. "I think I know something that'll cheer you up!" Chan began strumming at his guitar, playing the tune to a song Changbin had wrote a while back. Han added on to the beat, alternating between patting his knees, snapping, and clapping as if he was drumming.

"Come on, Binnie!" Han encouraged as Chan continued to play; Changbin jumped up as Chan began to count down:

"One, two, three, four!"

Can you, can you hear me? (Yup) Loud and clear We gotta get, gotta get ready

'Cause it's been years

Oh, this band is back Oh, this band is back"

And so, the three friends wandered down the beach, their laughter blending with the sound of claps and strums as they played their hearts out under the warm afternoon sun. Just like before, the music echoed across the shore, drawing the attention of those nearby, who could not help but dance and nod along to the rhythm. Though the crowd could not see the boys behind the melodies, 3RACHA didn’t mind in the slightest. They skipped and hopped, carefree in their joy, their playful teasing filling the air as they made their way down the path, smiles stretching so wide it almost hurt.

---

You returned home from school, trekking up the stairs dejectedly and still feeling bummed about your conversation with Mrs. Jeon. You opened your bedroom door, looking forward to resting after a despondent day; however, walking into the room revealed an unpleasant sight.

"What are you guys doing in my bedroom?!" you yelled at the three guys, who all perked their heads up out of shock; Han was attempting to pick up a photograph, although his hands kept passing through, Changbin was nearly half asleep on your bed, and Chan stood on a stepstool peering at the items you had collected on your shelf. Instantly, they all began stammering and tripping over words as they attempted to come up with a reasonable explanation.

"We were looking for the kitchen?" Chan asked more than answered; Changbin immediately nodded and pointed to him in a, 'Yeah, what he said,' type fashion.

"This," you moved your pointer finger around to gesture to all three of them, "can't happen! It's creepy!" You then fixed your gaze upon Changbin. "Off the bed, please!" you commanded, causing him to immediately jump off and mutter an apology.

"Hey, y/n," Chan raised his hand as if he was in class trying to signal a teacher. "What's in the box?" he pointed to a small, painted chest on one of your shelves.

"None of your business," you bluntly replied.

"Oh, okay!" Chan let out a laughter-esque breath. "Girl stuff. I got it."

"Oh, like unicorns and glitter?" an oblivious Changbin inquired.

"Oh, come on you guys!" Han exclaimed. "I am sorry about them."

"It's fine," you replied to Han's apology. "And yes, there may be a little bit of glitter." Changbin nodded approvingly. Han went back to attempting to pick up the photograph on your nightstand, his attempts futile as his hands once again passed through.

"I don't get it," you responded to his actions. "You guys can mess up my bed, pick up your instruments, but you can't make contact with other objects?"

"Right," Chan agreed. "It's hard, but holding our instruments is easy!"

"Yeah, super easy!" Changbin added emphasis to Chan's statement, beaming in excitement as he remembered a trick. "Oh! Check out what I learned!" He held out his hands, and his red bass guitar appeared into them, knocking him to the ground due to the force of the instrument.

"Yeah, that looked super easy," you smiled as you teased Changbin as he groaned in pain and attempted to stand back up.

"I guess it's like Chan thought," Han beamed. "Our instruments are attached to our souls!" Speaking of Chan, he had began to wonder back over to the mystery chest; however, you quickly caught him in the act.

"Chan! I thought I told you to leave that alone!"

"I know you did!" he responded, looking antsy. "You shouldn't have said anything thought because now I can't stop thinking about it!" Chan threw his hands down in exasperation. "What's in the box, y/n?" Your first thought probably should not have been, 'He’s curious about me?' Yet, before you could overthink it, you snapped yourself back into reality, shaking off the distraction. With a deep breath, you grounded yourself, reminding your racing mind to focus.

"It's my dream box," you finally admitted. "Whenever I get a thought or idea I think is cool, I write it down."

"Like lyrics?" Chan raised an eyebrow as he glanced back towards you, his curious gaze making your brain go numb for a second.

"Y-yeah, kind of," you stammered, folding your arms over your chest. "I guess they would be if I still wrote music. Now it's just full of things that don't make me sad." The room was silent for a moment, the boys looking at you and nodding with sympathy; suddenly, Han rose up from where he had taken a seat.

"But, you do play!" he told you without thinking. "We heard you this morning!"

"You guys were in the garage?!" Your outburst made Chan walk over and gently smack Han on the back of the head, causing the latter to flinch and rub the afflicted spot. "Hello?!" you added on, not getting a response the first time; as if on cue, all three boys began stuttering and mumbling again, this time saying things about how Han had misspoke. In order to distract you, Chan walked towards you, laying himself in front of you on your bed and propping his chin up on his arm.

"So, where is your kitchen?" he quieried, a dazed look present in his eyes. You were almost swayed by the adorable stare.

Almost.

You sarcastically smiled before answering: "Okay, we need to set some boundaries." Chan nodded adoringly as you moved your stance down to meet his before continuing. "For starters, stay out of my room!" The last part of your sentence came out louder than the rest as you gestured towards the door impatiently. All three boys scattered to make their way out as you commanded, saying things such as, "Yes ma'am!" and "We are out!" as they departed, passing through the door as if it was not there.

---

After an eventful day between school, explaining your heart-held dream box, and a prior conversation convincing your dad not to sell the house, you had worked up a late-night appetite. You hustled down the stairs to the kitchen. You almost screamed at the sight of someone standing by your fridge, but the tension in your body melted away as you realized it was just Chan.

"I am never going to get used to that," you muttered, eliciting a quiet giggle from Chan.

Awe man! Even his laugh was cute.

You shook your head as you approached the fridge behind him, peering over his shoulder.

"Do you guys even eat?" you genuinely asked. Chan shook his head; he and the boys had not had anything to snack on since their arrival.

"I just want to see what you have." You nodded, shutting the door through his ghostly figure.

"Hey!" Chan immediately protested. "You know how long it took me to open that?!"

"Sorry, I don't believe in wasting energy," you retaliated, grabbing some peanut butter and two slices of bread from the pantry.

"Perfect, because that's exactly what I want to talk to you about," Chan optimistically commented, his metaphor stunning you slightly.

"My electricity usage?" you spoke slowly as you rattled your brain for what on Earth Chan could be referring to,

"No, the energy that you have," he elaborated. "Your voice, your piano playing. Mate, you're a human super-weapon!" He spoke with a certain fondness in his voice.

"Is this supposed to be a pep talk?" you inquired, turning your attention back to your sandwich.

"What I'm saying is you have the power to move people," Chan replied, his Aussie accent thick in his voice. "To knock them off their feet. There is no way your teachers would kick you out for good if they could hear how well you played this morning!"

"Yeah, well I asked her, and she said I have to wait until next school year."

"That was your first mistake," Chan scrunched his face in disapproval. "Asking. 3RACHA booked gigs by doing," he opposed as he hopped up to sit on your kitchen counter. "We went into ambush mode! We played in front of clubs, behind clubs, we even played book clubs."

"Book clubs?" you questioned, a tad intrigued.

"Yeah, not a lot of gigs from those old ladies but we did get some gnarly snacks," he chuckled, but you remained stoic. "I'm just telling you to not ask for permission. Use your ultra super-weapon powers and smash the stupid rules out of their brains!" Chan beamed; however, you declined his suggestion at first.

"It's not a club, it's school. And your plan sounds violent!"

"It's a closed door, and you gotta bust it open!" You moved away from Chan, smirking at his comment as you made your way to the fridge to grab a glass of milk. "Sorry. Once I start metaphor-ing, I can't stop. I learned that in book club."

"They're not just gonna let me back in." Your words faltered as you turned around, unintentionally passing through Chan. A strange flutter of nervous energy stirred in your chest as you quickly spun back to face him. Both of you stood there, exchanging a sheepish smile, the awkwardness of the moment hanging between you.

"If getting back into music is what you want, then you gotta go for it!" Chan further encouraged you, putting a hand on your shoulder briefly before it fell through. "You never know what life has in store. Learn from me! Your tainted hot dog could be right around the corner," he whispered as you leaned down to take a bite of your sandwich; however, you lost your appetite from the warning, slowly removing the food from your mouth and setting it down on the counter.

"I don't even have a song prepa-"

"Thought you'd say that," Chan cut you off as he held up a piece of paper, conclusively with a song written on it. "It's called 'Bright.' It's a 3RACHA song I wrote that we never got to record, but it's perfect for your range," he expounded as he unfolded the paper. "Check out the chorus for a second. If you add a bit of piano, I'm telling you!" Chan then began to sing the chorus; you jumped in halfway through, with Chan encouraging you to, "go a bit higher!" on the final note. Internally, he jumped for joy as you turned to him, his smile widening with every step you took, silently cheering you on. You glanced up at him, a longing flickering in your eyes, aware of what you were feeling—and, judging by the soft flush of dusty pink on his cheeks, what he was feeling as well. Yet, you pushed those thoughts aside with a simple, 'Thanks,' masking the weight of the moment with casual words.

He bit his lip, a playful glint still shining in his eyes as he nodded, his smile filled with quiet joy. The two of you locked eyes for a brief moment, the air thick with unspoken understanding, before both of you chuckled lightly, the sound tinged with the shyness that neither of you could quite hide.

"Yeah, yeah, now get some sleep," he rolled his eyes playfully while looking down at you. "Big day tomorrow!" You beamed at his words before saying goodnight and walking away. Chan glimpsed at you the whole way through, leaning against the kitchen counter and crossing his arms. The unfamiliar feeling was back in his chest, and he felt himself unintentionally smiling.

In such a short span of time, you had already gotten Chan wrapped around your finger.

---

Your initial plan to play for Mrs. Jeon was foiled the instant you walked into the music room; all of the students and teachers were down in the gymnasium for the spirit rally. You had missed your shot.

Or so you believed, until Flynn, who you had walked in on blowing aimlessly into a trumpet, had an idea spark into her brain.

The two of you walked into the gym in the midst of Carrie's group, Dirty Candy's performance. The crowd was abuzz with cheer and hollering as the group danced and sang energetically.

"Look who spent all her daddy's money on costumes and Katy Perry's choreographer," Flynn remarked sarcastically as you shoved your hands in the pockets of your camo jumpsuit.

"Well, it paid off," you replied as you fixated on Carrie's performance.

Abruptly, the guys appeared, with Chan instantly making his way over to you.

"What are you guys doing here?" you inquired silently so that Flynn would not hear you and assume you were talking to yourself.

"We came to see you stick it!" Chan pumped his arms up and down, an energetic grin plastered upon his face. Han nodded in agreement, a smile playing at his own lips; however, Changbin's eyes instantly glued to the colorful ladies cascading across the gym floor.

"Man, I miss high school," he muttered. Han and Changbin turned to see the performance he was referring to, with Han joining in on the lively choreography; he managed to earn a cut it out gesture from Chan, who had noticed your dejected expression.

As Dirty Candy ended their performance, the director and Mrs. Jeon stepped onto the floor for some announcements, with the director making an awful pun about how the show was, "Sweet."

"Now's your chance!" Flynn hyped. "Go talk to her! See you in music class!" Before you could respond, Flynn ran off into the bleachers. You, however, stayed still, a feeling of anxiety bubbling in your stomach.

"What are you waiting for?" Changbin questioned. "This is your time!"

"Yeah, you look really nervous!" Han commented. "Like, you're about you yack in a bowl nervous!" You sighed fearfully, turning to Chan for comfort.

"I don't think i had enough time to work on the song!" you confessed.

"Hey, listen! I wouldn't have given you the song if I didn't think you were gonna rock it," Chan turned towards the stage and gestured towards it. "There is a piano on that stage with your name on it. So, are you gonna act or live your life in fear?" Something clicked inside of your head, and you beamed at Chan, nodding thankfully towards him.

You dashed towards the stage, approaching the piano nervously as you made it up; all three guys had their eyes fixated on you, two out of curiosity and one out of admiration. You sat down as the students began to exit, playing the keys you had stayed up all last night learning; however, your movements quickly faltered as you noticed everyone leaving.

"You got this!" Chan encouraged you from the gym floor; that was all you needed to begin to play. You precisely plucked every note you had memorized, taking in a deep breath as your fingers moved on their own. The sound guy, although he had no idea what was going on, went along with it, placing a spotlight upon you and heightening the audio of the keyboard and microphone as you began to sing:

"Sometimes I think I'm falling down I wanna cry, I'm callin' out For one more try To feel alive And when I feel lost and alone I know that I can make it home Fight through the dark And find the spark"

The students and teachers paused in there tracks, drawn to the sound of your playing. their chatter fading as they gathered to listen. Out of the corner of your eye, you took account of how Mrs. Jeon had gestured towards you, unmistakably signalling the director. Flynn sat on the sidelines, silently cheering you on with her hands clasped in encouragement; not far from her, Han, Chan, and Changbin watched intently, their quiet support radiating from their smiles.

"Life is a risk but I will take it Close my eyes and jump Together I think that we can make it Come on let's run and"

As your voice soared into the climactic high note, Chan, Han, and Changbin suddenly appeared behind you on stage, seamlessly joining in with their instruments. The unexpected sight startled you at first, but gratitude quickly replaced your surprise. Their presence, steady and unwavering, infused you with a renewed surge of confidence, propelling you to pour even more emotion into your performance.

"Rise through the night you and I We will fight to shine together Bright forever And rise through the night you and I We will fight to shine together Bright forever"

It was during this verse that you noticed something unusual. Students were rushing toward the stage, their excited murmurs breaking through your focus. Snippets like, 'Who are they?' and 'Whoa, she has a band!' reached your ears. Confusion flickered through you as you continued to sing, your gaze darting between the crowd and the guys behind you. Then, like a lightbulb flickering on, realization dawned:

They could see the boys.

The bandmates had noticed the commotion as well. Changbin and Han exchanged uneasy glances before scanning the crowd, their concern evident in the furrow of their brows. Chan, however, stood steady, his eyes sweeping over the audience with a quiet pride that seemed to radiate from him, as if he knew this moment was meant to be one in the spotlight.

"Uh, is this really happened?" you questioned Chan with a false smile towards the crowd plastered on your face.

"Just go with it!" he nearly screamed out of excitement as he began to belt out his own verse.

"In times that I doubted myself I felt like I needed some help Stuck in my head With nothing left I feel something around me now So unclear lifting me out I found the ground I'm marching on"

You were fully in sync with Changbin as Chan took the spotlight, his performance captivating everyone around. Both Changbin and Han had found their groove, their earlier tension replaced by ease as they settled into their parts, now fully understanding the shift in the moment. As the song built, Changbin, with a confident grin, made his way over to Chan's microphone stand, ready to harmonize with him and add his voice to the mix.

"Life is a risk but we will take it Close my eyes and jumpTogether I think that we can make it Come on let's run and"

The four of you belted the chorus together, the energy between you palpable as all three of your bandmates leaped onto the stage, bringing a burst of vitality that electrified the crowd. The student body erupted in cheers, their excitement vibrating through the air. Amid the chaos, you caught sight of Carrie forcing her way through the crowd, her eyes blazing with fury as she glared at you. But the intensity of the moment quickly swept her from your mind, as Chan’s voice filled the space once more, grounding you back in the performance.

"In times that I doubted myself I felt like I needed some help Stuck in my head With nothing left"

Midway through Chan's verse, you crept up behind him with your microphone, a playful glint in your eye as you gestured for him to follow. Without missing a beat, he did, and you brought the mic to his lips, mouthing the words along with him as his voice seamlessly joined the melody. The crowd responded with a chorus of 'oohs' and 'aahs,' the energy building with each passing moment. Chan, bathed in the electric purple lights, flashed a wide, radiant grin that made him look almost otherworldly, his presence as mesmerizing as the music itself

"And when I feel lost and alone I know that I can make it home Fight through the dark, and find the spark"

You took Chan's advice to heart, pushing your voice higher on the final note of your verse as the last chorus soared. When the song came to a close, all four of you took a bow, Han adding a dramatic flourish by tapping his cymbals. You raised your fist triumphantly into the air, a wave of pride rushing through you. But then, a sudden shift in the crowd’s energy caught your attention; gasps replaced the earlier cheers, the once exuberant audience now hushed in surprise. Taken aback, you turned quickly, your heart racing as you searched for the source of their reaction. As you turned around, you felt your stomach drop.

The boys were gone.

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backtothedrawingboard · 1 day ago

Text

Baby Bun (Pt1)

Summary: There's a new member of the Amazing Digital Circus! Except...he's a child?

CW: None

TW: None

AN: This takes place when Jax first arrives at the Circus, which means Gangle, Zooble, and Pomni are not present. Due to the lack of knowledge surrounding past characters, only the ones that have been seen are in the story.

~~~~~~~~~~

You whistled a tune to yourself as you strolled through the Circus. You had grown quite comfortable in your new home. It was upsetting that you would never get to go back to the real world, but given your financial strife, you were perfectly content living in a place that required no money. Your friends made it all the better.

Kinger, Queenie, Kaufmo, and Ragatha were all very sweet and did their best to get you accustomed to your new life when you first arrived. Even now, after three years of staying, Ragatha frequently checked in with you to see how you were doing. She was the closest friend you ever had.

The main negative attribute you saw in your friends was their pessimistic attitudes. They didn't like Caine for some reason and they always got all mopey and depressed when the topic of escape came. Kinger and Queenie seemed to brush it off at least. Of course, they both had each other to make life good.

Overall, your experience in the Circus was more positive than everyone else's. You had trouble understanding why they were all so upset by being stuck. It was great here. No need for sleep. No need to eat. No need to pay rent. No-

You paused. What was that sound? You stopped whistling and looked around, straining your ears for the quiet noise. You heard it again. It sounded like...a sniffle maybe? You crept towards the source. You got to where you thought it was and found...nothing.

You scratched your neck in confusion. Apparently it was nothing. You turned to leave. You whistled a little tune to yourself. There was that sound again. You stopped whistling and turned around again. You checked the area but couldn't find the source once again. But that was definitely a little sob...

You saw a little purple cotton ball under a curtain. You tilted your head and reached for it, squeezing it curiously. A yelp pierced the air and the puff jolted away from you. You flinched and stared down at the curtain. After a moment of silence, you slowly lifted it.

Behind the drapes, a small purple rabbit boy sat huddled. He wore pink overalls and yellow gloves. As you looked at his face, he stared up at you with big teary yellow eyes. You must have grabbed his little puff tail on accident. The poor thing had soaked fur around and under his eyes and his soft coat was poofed up in distress.

You blinked down at him in confusion and surprise. He couldn't be more than six or seven, but he looked very small. Was this an npc? How could a child get in the system? You sat next to him slowly. He flinched and squished himself against the wall as much as possible.

"Hey, little guy," you whispered soothingly. You didn't receive an answer. The little bunny just stared up at you, tears still silently dripping from his face. You sighed. You were never great with kids.

"What's your name, buddy?" you asked gently. You internally cringed. He obviously doesn't remember his na-

"J-Jax.." You blinked in shock. Did he just...?

"Um. What's that?"

"J-Jax." The rabbit wiped his eyes, but it didn't do much. His eyes immediately filled with more tears. You smiled softly, hoping to lighten the mood a little.

"Well, J-Jax-" Jax's fur fluffed up indignantly, causing you to hold back a chuckle. "Do you remember what happened before now?"

The little guy's eyes teared up more and he sniffled. "I don't know...My mommy and daddy and me were touring somewhere and I snuck off and...and..."

"You put on a headset?" you finished for him. He looked down and nodded, crying silently.

"I d-don't know how to leave..." he whispered with a sob. You felt your heart crack. You heard similar words from your friends all the time, but something about the little boy saying it was...so much worse.

You reached a hand out to place on his head. He flinched away, his fur fluffing up. Despite how sad it was to see him so scared, it was also pretty adorable how his fur stood up. You retracted your hand to prevent further upsetting him.

"I'm not gonna hurt you. I'm just gonna put my hand on your head, ok?" he said gently. He hesitated and then nodded. You slowly extended your hand again and set it on his head, rubbing it soothingly. His fur had to consistency of a real rabbit. It was very soft. Jax tensed for a few moments before relaxing into the scratches and rubs. He stopped crying and leaned into the touch.

You sighed in relief. At least he wasn't bawling his eyes out anymore. You needed to lighten the mood further. He looked like he couldn't handle more than a little stress.

"So...how old are you, Jax?" you asked awkwardly. He looked up at you.

"I'm f-five," he answered. It sounded more like a question than an answer. You grinned playfully.

"Five? You're sure about that?"

The bunny covered his face and giggled. "Yeah! I'm five!" he answered confidently. You ruffled the fur on his head.

"Wow! Five already. You're getting big," you teased. Jax's little tail wagged.

"Yeah! I'm big and strong!" He smiled happily. You grinned back in relief. He was adorable with his little smile and wagging tail and big eyes. Even his ears seemed a little too big for his head and perked up.

"Ok...We need to figure out what to do with you. Ready to go meet Caine?" You started to stand up to leave the covered corner. The rabbit's gloved hands grabbed your arm to stop you.

"No!" he cried. "The monster will get us!" You tilted your head. Monster? What monster? Oh, god. No one abstracted, right?

"What monster, bun?" you asked. Oops. Guess he has a nickname now.

"The monster! The one with a teeth head!" He looked up at you with wide eyes and constricted pupils. You held back a smile and laugh.

"Ohhhh. That's Caine. We need to go meet him. I promise he's nice." You took his hand in your own and gave it a reassuring squeeze. He shook his head vigorously.

"Noooo! He's scary!" he whined. You cupped one of his cheeks in your hand.

"I promise you I'll protect you from him. But I won't even have to. He's harmless," you told him gently. He sniffled and nodded, squeezing your hand and standing up with you.

You held the curtains aside and headed out of the secluded corner. You practically had to drag Jax along with you. The poor thing was obviously terrified of everything. Once you were out of the corner, he clung to your leg as you walked. You had a few close calls that you nearly tripped or stepped on him.

"Caine!" you called. "Caine?"

"What can I do for you, my superstar!" You jumped as the announcer shouted in your ear. You felt the little arms around your leg tighten. You gave the overenthusiastic ringleader an indignant look.

"Please stop doing that," you said dryly. You just earned a snicker. "Anyway, we have a...little problem."

"Oh?" Caine tilted his head comically sideways. "What's that?" You looked down at the little bundle hanging onto your leg. The dentured face of Caine gaped and his eyes popped forward in surprise.

"Yeah..." you chuckled. Jax whimpered and hid his face against the back of your thigh. The ringmaster looked flabbergasted.

"A child! How did that happen?!" he yelled.

"It sounded like him and his parents were touring some place and he put a headset on..." you said hesitantly. Caine tapped his lower jaw in thought.

"I see...Well, I'll get a room set up for him." Jax looked up.

"But...I want to go home..." he whimpered. Caine tilted his head again and spoke with a softer tone than normal.

"I'm sorry, my boy. But there's no way out of the Amazing Digital Circus." The bunny's eyes widened.

"W-What?" He trembled against your leg. You patted his head reassuringly. He just buried his face against you. Caine widened his toothy head sympathetically and disappeared into thin air. You looked down at the little guy.

"See...? He's not so scary, right?" you muttered. He just shook his head. His ears layed flat against his skull and you could feel his little sobs racking his body. You sighed and stroked his head gently.

"Who's that?" You looked up to see Ragatha, Kaufmo, Kinger, and Queenie. Ragatha asked the question, looking down at the little boy curiously.

"Oh..." you started. "This is Jax. He's our newest member." You patted his head. "Jax, this is Ragatha, Kinger, Queenie, and Kaufmo." He partially looked up from your leg to look at everyone. He whimpered and hugged you tighter, pressing his face against you again.

"Awww...He's so cute," Queenie cooed. She crouched next to you and gently scratched under Jax's chin with a finger. The bunny sobbed in fear and moved out of the way. The chess piece blinked and stood up again. She looked disappointed, but gave you and Jax some space. The rabbit relaxed a little once she walked away. You sighed.

"I think he probably needs to get some sleep..." you decided. The others nodded.

"Good to meet you, Jax," Ragatha said cheerfully. She didn't get an answer. You started leading him towards the bedroom halls. He cried the whole way. You awkwardly patted his head. You looked at all the doors and finally found the one that had a logo of him on it.

"Here we are!" you tried to say enthusiastically. It probably sounded more sarcastic than anything. He looked up enough to see the door and nodded a little. You opened the door to reveal a large bedroom with baby blue walls. The blue had fluffy white clouds painted on it and a tree shaped shelf with children's books was screwed into one wall. The ceiling was speckled with glow in the dark stars and a little dinosaur shaped night light offered a dim light. The bed was pretty large and looked very comfy with thick blankets and stuffed animals. Caine really outdid himself with this room.

You smiled down at Jax. "Look. Your room is pretty cool, right?" He looked up and around the room. Instead of the excited reaction you expected, his face twisted into sadness and fear.

"I want my room! I want Mommy!" he wailed. You flinched at the wail and the sobbing. He sat heavily on the floor and rubbed his eyes, bawling. You scratched the back of your neck nervously. What were you supposed to do in a situation like this? After a moment of watching him cry, you sunk down next to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

Jax continued crying and punched weakly at your side. It didn't hurt much, so you just winced a little and took it. Your heart broke further as the little boy cried, "I wanna go home! I want Mommy!" You pulled him into a hug and set your chin on top of his head.

"I know you do, bun. But...We don't know how to do that. I miss my mom, too. You're not alone," you whispered. He buried his face in your chest and bawled. His little hands gripped your shirt and clung to you weakly. You held him close and rubbed his back soothingly.

"I want to go home..." he whimpered quietly.

"I know..." You nuzzled the top of his head. He continued clinging to you and crying. After a bit, his grip weakened and his cries turned to sniffles. You looked down at him and ran a hand over his head.

"Feeling better?" you asked quietly. He nodded a little and yawned. You picked him up carefully, prompting him to hold onto you and rest his cheek on your shoulder. You pulled the sheets of the bed back and placed him on it, tucking him under the covers. His little hand wrapped around your thumb and held you there as he rolled to his side and snuggled in the blankets.

You watched his sleeping form for a minute before sighing and sitting up on the bed. You leaned back against the headboard and propped your legs out across the bed. You kept your hand in his grasp and rested your head against the bed, finally allowing sleep to overtake you.

#the amazing digital circus #tadc jax #baby bun au #this au probably already exists but im doing it anyway #tadc fanfiction #reader insert #tadc au

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kaleldobrev · 1 year ago

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Epilogue — Take Me Back Series

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

Series Summary: After making a deal to bring you back, Sam doesn't see you until years later when your paths cross during a case

Original Prompt: Requested by anonymous | Hi, I just joined Tumblr and came across your blog, it's wonderful! I'd like to make a request, something between Sam and reader. The reader dies and Sam makes a pact to bring her back, but she comes back without remembering him and the hunting life. He thinks it's best to stay away from her. Years later they meet and she falls in love with him all over again, and when they kiss she regains her memory. Do you like it?

Chapter Word Count: 1.1k

Chapter Warnings: Cursing (1x), Fluff

Authors Note: Last part of the Take Me Back series! I hope you all enjoyed this 5 part mini-series that was originally supposed to be a one-shot | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

Read Chapter Three Here | Take Me Back Masterlist

The car ride to the Bunker was a quiet and awkward one, something that you weren’t really expecting, considering you just regained your memories. You figured that Sam and Dean — especially Sam, would be ecstatic, but he apparently had no idea what to say; basically the man was speechless.

After about two hours of silence, Dean was finally the one to break it. “So, what exactly happened? You two kissed and then poof? Memories regained?”

“Bout sums it up,” you shrugged. “Thought you two would be more excited about me regaining my memories,” you added. Especially you Sam, you wanted to say, but decided against it.

“We are happy that you have your memories back, believe me. But…a lots changed in four years,” Dean said; his comment causing you to raise a brow.

“Like what?” You asked.

“Okay, let me get this straight. Jacks the new God?” You asked, almost in disbelief of what you’ve just heard.

“That’s what you decided to hone in on? Not the fact that your boyfriend here had a fucking beard!” Dean exclaimed.

“To be fair, I’ve been telling him to get a beard for years,” you stated.

Dean turned around briefly, the most disgusted look on his face. “You take that back this instant.”

“Sorry I can’t. I’m not a liar,” you grinned.

“Okay technically you do, cause you used to actively pretend to be a FBI Agent on a somewhat regular basis,” Dean scoffed, turning back to face the road. “Reminds me, when we get back, can you make me one of your cherry pies?”

Sam looked at Dean for a moment, trying to figure out how there was a connection. “How does that remind you of her cherry pies?”

“Because whenever we had a case that was far from home, one of the first things she would do is make her famous cherry pie for me,” Dean said. “Duh.”

“Are you sure you want to keep your memories?” Sam said, turning to face you.

You smiled at him. “What do you think that answer is?”

It’s been four years since you’ve stepped foot into the Bunker, and it felt like nothing has changed. It still had that same smell to it; that old book musty smell combined with Old Spice. “Welcome home,” Dean said, patting you on the back.

Dean looked over at you and his brother; the two of them exchanging thoughtful like looks. “I’ll leave you two kids alone,” he smiled, heading down the metal stairs.

Once Dean got to the bottom of the stairs, Sam looked at you, a slightly nervous smile on his face. “After you,” he said, gesturing toward the stairs.

“Thank you,” you nervously smiled back.

Halfway down the stairs you turned slightly, Sam following closely behind you. “So, I have a question,” you said, nervous to ask what you were about to ask, even though you probably had no reason to be.

“Shoot,” he answered.

“Sleeping arrangements…” you began, very hesitantly. “Can I sleep with you or…”

“Y/N, you know you don’t have to ask me that,” Sam said, almost sounding just as nervous as you had just sounded. He wanted more than anything for you to sleep in his — your — bed again. For the past four years, Sam felt as though he hadn’t been sleeping as good as he could have been. He didn’t realize until you had left, how reliant he had become on you when it came to how well he had slept.

“Okay,” you half smiled.

Upon entering yours and Sam’s bedroom for the first time in over four years, there was still a small sense of familiarity to it. Despite you not being here in over four years, there were still things that were left the exact same way as you had left it. He was still using the same sheets you had bought in order to make the Bunker more homey, pictures of the two of you still were scattered throughout; either hanging on the wall or propped up in frames on the dresser and desk.

You walked over to what used to be your dresser and picked up one of the perfume bottles which was almost empty. “I uh…I sprayed that sometimes in here to…” Sam half chuckled, scratching the back of his bed. “To kind of pretend that you were still here.”

You felt tears start to well up in your eyes and you quickly wiped them away. “You really missed me uh?” You asked him, picking up a picture of the two of you.

“Like crazy,” he said, walking toward you. “I’m sorry.”

You looked at Sam with a confused expression on your face, cocking a brow. “Why are you apologizing?”

“Because I should have given you a choice when it came to making that deal; it wasn’t fair for you,” he said.

“Sam,” you began, placing the picture down back on the top of the dresser. “You saved my life. Brought me back to life even. I…I would have made the same deal.”

“You would have?” He asked, a similar looking confused expression on his face.

“In a heart beat,” you confessed.

He gently smiled at you, and scratched the back of his head. Nows a good time as any, he thought. “Open up that drawer there,” he said, pointing to your side table. You looked at the table briefly before looking back at him. “Trust me.”

“Okay,” you nodded, slight hesitation. You walked over to your side table and upon opening it, there was a traditional looking small black velvet box. “Sam…” you trailed off, picking up the box and turning around.

When you turned around, Sam was down on one knee in front of you. “Open it,” he stated. Your heart began to race, as you were actually half afraid to open up the box.

Taking a deep breath, you lifted up the lid just slightly. “This better not be a prank,” you said.

“I wouldn’t joke about something like this,” He said, sounding almost half annoyed. Opening up the lid fully now revealed a small diamond ring. “I’ve held onto that for over four years. I was going to ask you to marry me when we got back from that vamp case in Malibu but…you know…”

“Yes,” you said instantly.

“But I didn’t ask you yet,” he smiled, chuckling a little.

“Oh, sorry,” you nervously chuckled.

“Y/N, will you marry me?” He asked.

“Yes!” You exclaimed, wrapping your arms around him. Taking the ring out of the box, Sam placed the ring on your finger, and you couldn’t help but smile wide from ear to ear. “I have a crazy idea.”

I’ve missed your crazy ideas, Sam thought. “What’s your idea?”

“Let’s go to the courthouse right now. Why wait any longer?” You suggested. “I mean, I love you. And I’m always going to.”

“I’ll go get the keys,” Sam smiled, leaning in and giving you a quick peck on the lips.

Walking out of the room, Sam felt like for the first time in a long time, that things were working in his favor.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @beansproutmafia @queenie32 @deanwanddamons @missy420-0 @octoberclidan @kidwhofixates @crystal55 @hannahisthebanana @seamlessepiphany @madzzz0797 @livingordeadwhoknows @writinginfear @roskar16 @syrma-sensei @k-slla @justletmereadfanfic @deans-daydream @midorimachisenpaii @rachiem4-blog @taraswifes @zepskies @fuiabarcelos @foxyjwls007 @sammysnaughtygirl @coldspoons @missscarlettangel @frozenhuntress67 @snakebxtez @crystalandphoebewifey @spnandpj @androah @somebrokeartstudent @nescavaneck If you'd like to be added to a tag list please follow this link

#Sam Winchester x reader #Sam winchester x you #spn #supernatural #spn imagine #supernatural imagine #spn one shot #supernatural one shot #sam x reader #sam x you #reader insert #female reader

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bitethedevil · 8 months ago

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More Than Our Fathers (Raphael x Demigod!Reader): Chapter 2

Chapter: one, two, three, four, five

Read this on AO3

Summary: The relationship between you and Raphael has blossomed. While you are in isolation, Raphael informs you that your father has been freed from his imprisonment in the Scepter of Savras and that the scepter is lost once again.

Hundreds of years later, the Cult of the Absolute is on the rise in Faerûn and Raphael has a plan for how the both of you can get what you want. What you are not too excited about, however, is the fact that his little plan includes the two of you getting married.

Word count: 4,711

(Notes: I am making up Infernal laws and you'll probably see a lot of that in this fic since there is not a lot of material to go off when it comes to that. I am also posting this chapter rather quickly after the first one, but I got some real life stuff the next couple of weeks, so I wanted to get the second chapter posted before that. Now that the first two chapters are out of the way, the scene is set and we won't be "time-travelling" so much. Phew!)

“We will see each other again, Sibylla,” he had said.

And that you did. Raphael often seemed to have business wherever you did. How much of it was coincidence and how much of it was intentional, you did not know. All you knew was that you kept running into him throughout the years. Sometimes quite often, while other times there would go decades between you seeing each other.

You saw him as a pestilence in the beginning. Plenty of threats were thrown his way in those first meetings. It did not sway him to stay away, but it never got physical between you. Though Raphael was self-assured that he would win in a fight between the two of you, he was not eager to test if his theory was right.

You did eventually start to soften up to him. You even began to feel flattered by his growing obsession with you over the years. Your powers intrigued him immensely. His compliments and light-hearted flirting did not fall on deaf ears either, though you knew his intentions. His interest was purely out of the fact that it would be an accomplishment for him to seduce a creature of the divine, and for that reason you held his flirtations at an arm’s length.

Eventually the two of you started meeting outside of work as well, though because of the stubbornness of the both of you, you always found excuses for it. The idea that you might just have been enjoying each other’s company was unspeakable, especially to you.

You were not friends. People like the two of you did not have friends. You were a constant in each other’s life, and for immortals that is really all one can ask for. Raphael was the only other immortal in your life, and while Raphael was frequently surrounded by the many immortals of the Hells, he seemed to have a special fondness for your company.

Although neither of you were confused about the reality of your relationship: you would gladly stab the other in the back or shamelessly use the other person, if that was more beneficiary than keeping the peace between you.

It was hundreds of years after you and Raphael had met in Barth’s office. You had taken a few years away from your usual work around Faerûn. You had bought a comfortable house out on the countryside to live in solitude for a while. You had managed to anger quite a lot of important people, which meant that it was time to go into hiding for a decade or two, which was something you had done successfully a few times before.

Your wish for isolation was, of course, not honored by Raphael. You had seen him coming in a vision before he arrived, which is why it did not come as a shock when you heard the familiar poof behind you as you were doing garden work.

“Business or pleasure?” you asked without even turning around. “If it’s the former, I’m currently not interested.”

You were hunched over a flower patch with your hands in the dirt and your behind in the air.

“It’s always a pleasure when it’s with you, my dear,” Raphael purred from behind you. “I must say, you look lovely from this angle.”

You sighed and got up to face him. You were sweaty. A bit of your face was dirtied, from when you had dried the sweat off your brow. Raphael wrinkled his nose.

“Though considerably less so from this one…” he commented while looking at your dirtied and annoyed-looking face. “You look disgusting. Why not use magic for such a trivial task?”

“Because I’m trying to use my time on something productive and I am bored,” you answered and cleaned your dirty hands off on your pants.

You reached out for Raphael’s hands. It was often much easier to just touch him to find out what he wanted through your visions, instead of having to listen to all his theatrics as he explained.

“Don’t you dare,” he said and stepped back from your dirty hand, his nose wrinkled in disgust. “Besides I want to see your face when I tell you this, so I will not allow you to peek this time.”

“Fine,” you sighed. “Why are you here?”

“Please, get cleaned and try to look presentable first,” he said and walked into your house as if he owned it.

You washed off and changed into clean and comfortable clothing before joining him in your living room. He was sitting in a chair with his legs crossed, waiting for you. He looked at your clothes and sighed.

“It will have to do, I suppose,” he said at your choice of clothing, that consisted of a simple lose dress and a belt, which is what you always wore when you were just at home.

You raised an eyebrow at his comment. He got up from the chair and snapped his fingers.

“No—"

Once you saw that you were suddenly somewhere else, you sighed deeply and fought the urge to slap him.

“I am in isolation for a reason,” you hissed at him and looked around at the people passing you in the street.

“We are on the Moonshae Isles,” he said casually. “I know for a fact that you rarely ever leave the mainland. No one will recognize you here.”

“Where exactly?”

“Caer Callidyrr,” he answered casually and walked towards the entrance to a tavern.

“A city that trades with both Amn and Calisham, which are both places that currently want my head,” you said in a low voice before you cast a glamour spell on yourself that made your recognizable silver hair and pale eyes into another color.

Raphael threw a glance at your change of appearance and chuckled.

“A bit overly paranoid, aren’t you?” Raphael said with a smile and held the door open for you. “I see the isolation is already starting to get to you.”

The tavern was fancy, which was to no surprise to you, knowing Raphael.

“Why are we even here?” you asked. “We could have done this at my house.”

He led you to a table in a secluded corner of the tavern.

“Because you went insane the last time you hid yourself away from the world, and you are of little use to anyone in that state. You need to get out every now and again,” he said calmly. “I also have news for you that calls for a celebration, and I am certain you will agree once you hear it.”

“I did not go insane,” you mumbled stubbornly. “And I am not going insane either.”

You remembered exactly the incident he was talking about. You had gone away for two decades, and when Raphael had finally visited you, he found you in a cottage far away from civilization with a small army of stray cats, along with at least a decade's supply of home-brewed potions of Animal Speaking. He had teased you with it ever since.

“Tell it to the cats, dear,” he said with a mocking smile and waved over a barmaid.

Shortly after a bottle of expensive of wine was brought to your table.

“Alright, why am I here?” you asked. “What is it that you seem so excited about telling me?”

He rested his elbows on the table between you and leaned forward.

“I merely wanted to inform you that while you have been doing garden work in the middle of nowhere, Savras has been freed from his imprisonment…” he said in a lowered voice with a smile.

You raised an eyebrow. Your father had been freed?

“How? By whom?” you asked.

“The very same who imprisoned him all those years ago,” he said.

“Azuth?” You asked. When Raphael confirmed with a nod, a look of annoyance washed over your face. “Which means that he is no doubt forced to bow down to both Mystra and Azuth now…I can’t say I’m surprised he went along with it. Gods, how embarrassing …”

It angered you to hear. Your father had truly been reduced to nothing. It had almost been better if he had simply stayed lost in the scepter.

“How did Azuth even find the scepter?” you asked.

Raphael’s smile widened.

“It had fallen into the hands of a woman called Syluné Silverhand, who used the scepter and your father’s powers for her own gains for some years before handing it over to Azuth. She is one of Mystra’s whelps,” he explained. “I’m sure you have heard of her…”

Your anger grew. Silverhand was the eldest of the Seven Sisters, who were all the daughters and chosen of Mystra. You had never liked Mystra for the way she had idly stood by as Azuth took your father’s place, but your dislike for her only grew at that piece of information.

“That bitch knew…” you said through gritted teeth. “Mystra knew exactly where my father was, and she did nothing. She let her daughter use her former servant as a pet.”

“Idleness is the way of the gods, dear. Surely that cannot come as a surprise to you,” Raphael said. “Although…there is a silver lining to all of this…”

“What?” you asked.

Raphael casually topped off your glass of wine as he explained:

“Azuth freed Savras, but the majority of his divinity and powers stayed in the scepter, if the rumors are to be believed. The scepter mysteriously disappeared once again, as it had done all those years ago, before your dear father could reclaim that lost part of himself. They say that only a chosen of Savras or someone of the divine can wield its powers…someone like yourself…”

He took a sip of wine as he waited for your reaction.

You could reclaim what your father had lost, and perhaps even absorb his powers for yourself. You could become what your father once was, but without making all the idiotic mistakes that he had. You could essentially ascend to godhood with powers like that in your hands.

Your anger had calmed as the spark of ambition was slowly being lit inside you instead. You narrowed your eyes at Raphael in suspicion.

“Why are you telling me all of this?” you asked.

Raphael sighed.

“Was there even a small chance that I could claim the scepter myself, I would not have told you,” he said. “As that is not the case, I am telling you this in the hopes that you will remember my generosity should I ever need a favor from you…”

“Hm…” you hummed. A slight smile tugged on your lips as you thought of all the possibilities if you should ever get your hands on it.

“Is that a smile I see?” Raphael asked. “How rare coming from you these days.”

“I still have to find the damn thing, though…” you said and sipped your wine.

“All good things come to those who wait,” he said with a hand gesture. “With a little determination and some patience, I am certain that you will stumble upon it eventually.”

“Hm,” you hummed again. “I’m not convinced that you don’t have some ulterior motive for telling me, but…thank you…”

“You know I always do,” Raphael said with a smirk. “And you are very welcome…”

You emptied your wine glass and put it on the table. Soon after, the barmaid came to take your empty glasses. You put some pieces of gold on the table for the barmaid.

“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” the barmaid said with a bright smile and gestured towards Raphael. “Your father has already paid for the wine.”

Raphael’s eyes darted to the barmaid at the comment, with a look in them that said that he was seriously considering reducing her to ash on the spot. You made a small snorting sound and had to bite your cheek to not start laughing. You managed to nod to the barmaid.

You had always teased Raphael relentlessly with his ‘age’. While you still looked like you were in your twenties, Raphael had insisted that people took him more seriously with his permanent glamour that made him look at least twenty years older than you.

The second the barmaid had left your table, you started quietly laughing and Raphael’s eyes darted to yours.

“Oh, that’s amusing to you, is it?” he asked. Despite his pointed tone, you could see that he liked seeing you laugh again.

You nodded.

“Not only do you look like a child, but you also act like one,” Raphael said with a sigh.

“I really needed that,” you said and tried to stop giggling, before getting up from the table. “Take me home, old man.”

The year was now 1492 DR, and it was the year that would change your life forever. You were just shy of 1600 years old. It was over a hundred years after Raphael told you about the second disappearance of the Scepter of Savras, and you were unfortunately no closer to finding it.

Raphael must have been busy, for you did not see him for three decades straight. You had received visions of him coming to visit you, though he never did. It meant that he had certainly had the intention to seek you out, but he had for some reason changed his mind.

When he finally did seek you out, you were in Waterdeep which was the place you had called home for the last century. You were quietly reading in your study when you suddenly heard the familiar poof of Raphael appearing. You smiled when you heard him appear, but you quickly hid it and did not look up from your book.

“Took you long enough,” you said in a slightly offended tone.

“I have been so terribly busy, my dear,” Raphael said.

“Mmhm,” you said. “So terribly busy that you could not even pay me a single visit, and now, because you most likely want something from me, you have the time.”

“Oh, how you know me so well,” Raphael purred and walked behind you to place his hands on your shoulders before he gave you a brief kiss on the cheek.

You could have taken a peek when he touched you to see his intentions and where he had been for the last many years by peering into his past, but you had made an agreement that you would not do so unless he asked.

You looked up at him.

“What do you want?” you asked.

Raphael smiled as he looked down at you.

“So many things,” he said. “But most importantly, I have something that you want.”

He snapped his fingers, and you were suddenly in the House of Hope. You had visited his home a couple of times before. What surprised you was that he had taken you directly to his archive instead of the large main area or the foyer where he had taken you all the other times.

“Come,” he said and beckoned you to follow him. He opened a hidden entrance and led you down a set of stairs that went under the archive.

There were artifacts from all over the realms lining the walls and placed on pedestals around the large area.

“Did you bring me here to show off?” you asked.

Raphael smiled and gently grabbed your shoulders. He turned you around to look at a particular artifact that was placed in the center of the room. Your jaw fell and your eyes widened.

A scepter. It was made from duskwood with nine star-sapphires along its length. There was one diamond at its base and one at its end. The one at the base bore your father’s symbol, while the one at its end bore Azuth’s. The scepter was extended in the air, vibrating violently against the confines of the magic that was keeping it in place.

“Is that…?” you asked breathlessly.

You felt as though you might start crying. You had been looking for it for so long, and there it was.

“It is,” Raphael said. “Quite a lot of trouble it was to get my hands on it too. It was even more difficult to make it stay in one place. I will be happy to get rid of it…eventually.”

You looked at him. You were speechless. Or at least you were until the awe had settled for a moment.

“How long have you had it for? Why didn’t you tell me immediately?” you asked with frustration in your voice.

“Because I need you to do something for me before I am willing to hand it over to you. Something that I know you would not be fond of helping me with unless the reward was big enough…” he said. “I have not had it for long. Once my plan was starting to come together, I promised a rather large sum for anyone who could find it and bring it to me. You have no idea how much this has cost me in gold, souls, and whatever else you can think of.”

You looked at the scepter again. You could almost not believe it was right in front of you.

“Where was it?” you asked.

“In the Hells, if you can believe it,” Raphael explained, looking at the scepter too. “It makes all the sense in the world when one thinks of it. What is left of your father in there is not eager to be claimed, and when only a pious chosen or someone with a touch of the divine can wield it, then what better place to hide than in the Hells where such people are a rarity?”

You were quiet. You had been looking in all the wrong places from the beginning, but now it was here. You would do whatever it took to get your hands on it.

“So, what is it that you want?” you asked.

Raphael smiled and led you away and out of the archive.

He brought you to one of his many balconies. He poured some wine for you and began to explain everything. You had of course heard whispers about the Absolute and you had also received some worrying visions every now and again the last couple of months. What you had not expected was the Absolute’s connection to the Crown of Karsus. The very thing that made Raphael cross paths with you in the first place.

“Not this old song again, Raph,” you sighed. “Why are you so eager to follow in the footsteps of Karsus?”

“Karsus was merely a mortal,” Raphael said with a sneer. “I am not. The Crown has endless potential and where Karsus failed, I will succeed.”

“And take over the Nine Hells, yes, yes, I know,” you said with anger at his stubbornness. “And yet you seem to fall into the very same trap that Karsus did. Karsus failed because of arrogance, and you would do well to remember that. He thought himself a god though he was only a man, and it ripped him apart and destroyed Netheril. It will do the same to you.”

“It will not, and even if it will, that is why I have you to warn me beforehand,” he said hurriedly, his frustration was clear in his voice. “I will have it, with your help or without it.”

You sighed deeply. You had heard it all before of course, but you never thought that he would even get close to the Crown, so you had simply brushed it off.

“If it was so powerful, why wouldn’t Mephistopheles had used it to get rid of Asmodeus ages ago? Why would he let it stay in his vault untouched?” you asked.

“Because he would have little control over its powers as he lacks the rest of Karsus’s artifacts,” Raphael explained. “My father is many things, but he is not a stupid man. Karsus created two other artifacts along with the Crown. To properly wield the powers of the Crown, you need the other two.”

You looked at him for a moment.

“Which you have in your possession…” you said, beginning to understand.

“Correct,” Raphael said and smiled. “There is the Scepter of Karsus, the Orb, and, of course, the Crown. I only need the Crown. If you ensure that it falls into my hands after the defeat of the Absolute, the Scepter of Savras is yours. You would become a god, Sibyl. We would both become gods…”

There was a fire in his eyes as he spoke. You were quiet for a moment. It was so tempting. You had been waiting for this for years, and yet you felt a knot in your stomach at the thought. You remembered Melesmer, the wizard who had raised you. How he used to tell you about the pure carnage and destruction that the Crown brought to Netheril and its people.

“This is such a bad idea…” you said quietly.

Raphael knew you were considering it, despite your words.

“The group of adventurers that is crucial to my plan has a former chosen of Mystra in their midst,” Raphael said. “A complicated relationship, to be sure, but still, it is there. Do you think that he would deny her if she asked him to bring the Crown to her? Mystra has all the reason in the world for wanting the Crown. One can only wonder what she would do with it and what kind of chaos it could create in the Heavens.”

It annoyed you how well Raphael knew which of your buttons to push to make you say yes. He knew that you hated Mystra for what she had done, or rather not done, for your father and that you truly thought the worst of her.

“Fine…”

Raphael’s eyes lit up.

“But,” you said sharply. “You will listen to me. If I see a slight chance that all of this goes wrong, in any capacity, we stop. You stop. We drop it and we move on as if nothing happened, and if you do not heed my warnings, I will not hesitate to lead you astray. I don’t care if we are…” you were about to say friends. “…whatever it is we are. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my dear,” he said and reached for your hand to place a kiss on it. “Thank you.”

You sighed deeply and took a big sip of wine as you looked out over Avernus.

“How do I know that you will actually deliver the scepter to me?” you asked after a moment of silence. “Since I won’t be signing any contracts, how can you ensure me that you will not go back on your word?”

“All these years and you still do not trust me?” Raphael said and put a hand on his chest in a gesture of feigned hurt.

“Not with this,” you said with a serious expression.

“I have already thought of a solution to that little problem…” Raphael said, and you noticed that he had an odd expression on his face.

It looked like hesitancy, and that was not something you had ever experienced with him. Raphael was many things, but shy was definitely not one of them. It made your eyes narrow at him.

“What?” you asked.

He looked at you briefly before moving his eyes back to the landscape in front of you.

“As you are well aware, if you were to ascend to godhood, the gods would likely have something to say on the matter,” Raphael said carefully. “It could take a few centuries before you have fully adjusted to your newfound powers. It could take even longer for them to grow to their full potential. You would not stand a chance against the gods if you were to stay in the Material Plane. Which is why I would be willing to offer you refuge in the Hells until you are better prepared…”

“A nice offer…” you said, and your eyes narrowed even more in suspicion. “Buuut…?”

“But” Raphael said and began fiddling with the arm of the chair he was sitting in, in what almost looked like a nervous gesture. “It would no doubt look odd that the coming Archdevil Supreme should be granting refuge to a non-fiend, and especially someone of the divine, simply out of generosity.”

“So…?” you asked impatiently. “Raphael…Are you going to arrive to your point anytime soon? What does any of this have to do with my question?”

“You see…there is a way to make verbal agreements legally binding. It is a longer and slightly atypical court procedure to ensure the validity of these claims, but it does work. Meaning that you would never have to sign anything, but my promises to you would still bind me in an Infernal court. There would be no additional terms aside from the ones we have already discussed, of course...In its essence, it would be a promise that I am forced to keep.”

You nodded.

“That sounds…fine,” you said with a shrug. “How do we do that?”

Raphael took a deep breath.

He mumbled something to himself that you did not quite catch. Something about ‘that you should have talked on the Material Plane in case you were about to kill him’ or something to that extent.

“I’m sorry, what?” you asked.

He cleared his throat.

“Archdevils are expected to have consorts,” he said and let the words linger in the air for a moment. “And verbal agreements are considered legally binding if the two parties are…married…”

He smiled, trying to take the blow off what he had just said. You stared quietly at him with an unreadable expression for a moment. Then you tapped your nail on the wine glass in your hand.

Raphael barely dodged it when you threw the wine at him.

“Have you lost your mind?!” you yelled.

“Calm down, dear,” he said calmly and held a hand up defensively. “Let me—”

“Don’t you ‘dear’ me, you slippery fuck!” you yelled. “I will not calm down when you are suggesting that I essentially sell myself to you like a common whore just so you can parade me in front of the Nine Hells and brag that you conquered a goddess!”

“I was suggesting nothing of the sort!” he said in a louder voice to match your volume, though he still remained calm in the face of your anger. “It is a political alliance, that will benefit the both of us. We do not have to act married behind closed doors unless you wish it.”

“Unless I wish it?” you repeated in a dangerous tone.

“A poor choice of words,” Raphael immediately backtracked. “I am simply stating that it would solve a myriad of problems for the both of us. You would live comfortably, never want for anything, and be treated like the goddess you will become, without the interference of the Heavens. I will not have to take my chances with some Infernal consort who might betray me or serve someone else behind my back, and I would have your sage council by my side as I rule.”

You were still fuming but you were being quiet.

“Consider it, Sibyl…” he said. “I understand that it is something you need to mull over and do take the time you need. However, if you refuse, the only sense of security I can grant you will be through a written contract, and I will not be able to grant you refuge…”

“You don’t speak to me for thirty years, and when you finally do you present me with all of…this…and ask if I will marry you…” you mumbled to yourself. “You are fucking unbelievable…”

Raphael smiled at you. You might have still been angry, but he could see that you seemed to be calming down at least a little bit.

“It is a lot to take in, I’m sure,” he said. “I would have taken the time to ease you into it, but time is a luxury we currently do not have with the way everything is progressing.”

You sighed deeply.

“Take me home,” you said. “I’ll think about it but do not get your hopes up. I am tempted to refuse you immediately.”

He gave you a short nod and snapped his fingers to send you back to Waterdeep.

#raphael bg3 #raphael the cambion #bg3 raphael #raphael x reader #raphael fanfic #raphael bg3 fic #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction

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acuar-io · 5 months ago

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haii interview incoming about your ocs

If they were an animal what animals would they be?

Do they have any siblings? hows their relationship with family?

Where are they fromm? do they speak another language?

What's their biggest (stupidest) fear?

Favorite music genre/artist?

and last because im yapping away...are there any fun facts or deets about them youd like to share?

YAY OC ASK TIME!! I actually answered this on the app and tumblr poofed it. So im going to reanswer the questions again lol. Its going to be a long one so BUCKLE UP CUS HERE WE GO!

If they were an animal what animals would they be?

Sephtis would be a black cat 🐈‍⬛, Izara a bunny 🐇, Benny an otter 🦦 and I have really introduced him to the blog yet and gotten into his character, but Dante would be a dog 🐶 specifically a Jack Russell

2. Do they have any siblings? hows their relationship with family?

I love this question and I will get more into detail with all of my ocs in another post or in their character page (when i create one :3)

Sephtis has an older sister (three years older). They both have a good relationship with their mother, but a terrible one with their father. Their dad actually cut ties with them because they are both (according to him) "a disgrace to the company and family name" he ended up giving the company to their cousin because neither of them wanted to inherit their fathers company, nor cared about his business lol. Their father was never really there for them, their mother practically had a facade the entire marriage & fought so much for Seph and his sister to live "normal lives" as nepo babies (lol) they were pretty popular in school because of their bg which they hated. Their parents divorced Sephs senior year of hs and at that time is when his dad cut ties w him as well.

Izara is an only child. She has a good relationship with her parents. They're more on the traditional side & older people, so sometimes they dont see eye to eye, especially when she was in Junior High & High school. Izara's interests concerned them (literally just regular interests teenagers have that freak out ethnic parents bc they need theyre becoming demons or some shit lol) also didnt like that she loved art and wanted to be an artists/art curator. Eventually though, they understood that they cant control what their daughter does with her future and that is all up to her ( I think they left her alone more so because they realized she is successful in her art and modeling career).

Benny is the youngest of 4. He has 3 sisters. His relationship with his parents was really shitty growing up, sadly. He is gay & hes known that for his whole life. Having 3 sisters and being the only boy, he loved to play with dolls. His parents being very religious, seeing him play with dolls, was not something they liked. Even if he was just playing with his sisters. In school, he was bullied. There was name calling and rumors that spread around about him. His parents hated the rumors and name calling not because it hurt Benny, but because it makes them look like bad Catholics. Benny truly only had his sisters and other female friends by his side throughout school. It wasnt until high school where things seemed to change for the better. This especially were better because he had Sephtis. His parents have come around, but they def took their time to finally accept their son.

3.Where are they from? do they speak another language?

Sephtis is from Osaka, Japan (Mt. Komorebi) then moved to Los Angeles at age 4 (Del Sol Valley). He speaks English and Japanese!

Izara is from New York (San Myshuno), shes Ethiopian-American. She speaks English and Amharic.

Benny is from Quebec (have no idea what sim world would be considered Canada lol) He speaks French & English

What's their biggest (stupidest) fear?

Okay so Sephtis & Izara are afraid of movie characters LMAO Sephtis will forever be afraid of Kayako (The Grudge) movie he watched as a kid with his sister that scarred him as a child ksfkksfks. Izara specifically does not like the older Godzilla (model?? costume??) she thinks its ugly and creepy as fuck like literally nightmare looking ass creature. IS THIS NOT JUST CREEEPY TO U???

Ok I wouldnt say Benny's is stupid....hes afraid of bugs specifically roaches. I mean logically, hes bigger than them so he can step on them and kill them, but he just finds them super fucking gross that he cant bring himself to do that lol.

Favorite music genre/artist?

Sephtis' fave band is BUCK-TICK, Fave genre is Rock (I'll keep it broad because he loves a toe=ne of sub rock genres).

Izara's fave artist is PinkPantheress! For groups, she likes New Jeans, Aespa & Perfume (yes she listens to kpop/jpop). Fave genre is pop for sure!!

Benny's fave band are the cranberries!! fave genre is also rock, but he prefers alternative rock!!

and last because im yapping away...are there any fun facts or deets about them youd like to share?

Okay well, I want to share a little about Seph and Benny's relationship rq!! So they went to the same high school. Sephtis is a year older than Benny. Their paths didnt officially cross until Sephtis' senior year and Benny's junior year of high school. They met one day after school when it was raining, Benny didnt have an umbrella but sephtis did :) thats all ill say for now :3

#ask #reply #oc asks #fae ocs #kuro tag #izzy tag #benny tag #TYSM FOR THE ASK!!!!

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drakiandh · 1 year ago

Text

Shifting Jewels - Chapter Two, Strawberry Trip

Another one. Imma update every Saturday in hopes that I can make these chapters without stress. I am in love so far, and am currently making their designs. Anyways, happy reading! Words - 4,265

Star’s gaze lingered on the fallen gem, its vibrant red hues now dulled by the golden corruption that had taken hold. His weapons returned to their places within his gem with the flick on his true hand. The air around him hung heavy with a mix of emotions, a complex tapestry woven from joy, grief, and fear.

Joy surfaced at the sight of Painite, an old companion he thought lost to the ravages of time. Grief welled within him, knowing that despite the years that had passed, Painite still harbored resentment and hatred. Fear, however, clutched at his core, an icy grip that tightened with the looming threat of the corruption that had claimed his friend.

Approaching cautiously, Star moved towards the gem as if the very act of proximity might trigger the other’s reform. He hesitated before gently nudging it with his foot, as though testing the waters. When no reaction followed, he reached down and cradled the corrupted gem in his hands, a sense of regret lingering in his touch.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice barely audible, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile moment. His finger traced the intricate cracks on the gem’s surface. “I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner.”

Before Painite could attempt to reform, Star enveloped the gem in a sphere of deep navy blue, cradling it gently. He hesitated to send the other gem to the temple back in Beach City, opting instead to shrink down the bubble small enough to fit it into his pockets. Clutching the bubbled gem in his hands, he stood and walked over to the nearby pillar. Retrieving his jacket, Star concealed the gem under the fabric, beginning the journey back to the nearby human town. As he walked, he couldn’t bear the silence, so he decided to speak aloud.

“Things have gotten better, at least in my combat skills,” Star murmured into the open air, absentmindedly rubbing the bubble with his thumb. “When I last visited Rose, I could handle nearly three whole minutes in a fight with her. I wonder how she is; it’s been, what, a hundred years since I’ve visited?”

He was certain that if Painite could hear him, he’d be complaining about Star talking his ears off. Star weakly chuckled at the thought, the memory quickly tainted by their current relationship. “It wasn’t my fault,” he began, hopping down the stone path while keeping the gem within the bubble steady. “Well, it was, but could you blame me? I couldn’t bear the feeling of being just some slave to them. Blue was cold and rude to me, assigning me a purpose without even checking if I was functioning properly. Sure, I’m glad she didn’t, because if I wasn’t, she would’ve shattered me, but the thought would’ve been nice. Yellow was just an ass to me, telling me to ensure Pink would win the war. I’m not even going to mention White; she was terrifying. Pink was a lot better before, well, you know. She was the only one who treated me like someone alive, but even then, she was distant and only really interacted for war-related matters.” Star rambled.

“When Rose offered my freedom, she treated me like I was something alive, not just some tool to see into the future. How could you have stayed? Did you like being their slave? Being nothing more than what you were made to do?”

Star could already imagine the words Painite would say if he wasn’t poofed and bubbled in his hands. “My purpose is what I am made to do. Why should I fight it?”

“But what about after it?” Star responded to the whispers of the question. “After the war, would you be shattered? Poofed? If you were lucky, you’d be taken by Yellow and sent to fight there. But is there really nothing for you other than just claiming worlds filled with life to make more repressed gems? Earth is a free world, Painite. It’s not too late to renounce your allegiance to the Diamonds. I doubt they would even take you back if you somehow get to Homeworld again. They’ve probably already made thousands of Painites on some claimed world of theirs, and maybe they’ve already created thousands of Star Sapphires too. So what’s the point when they’ve already got copies of us?”

They arrived in town before Star could continue, prompting the blue gem to sigh and tuck the blue bubble safely into his pocket. After ensuring the bubble wouldn’t pop when he moved, he shook his still-blue hands back into their false brown color and began his trek toward the nearest warp pad, conveniently located on the other side of the human town.

“Hey, Star!” The Sapphire turned his head toward the human who walked up to him, smiling nervously. He recognized this person as the one who had encountered him in the forest.

“Hey, Carl,” Star greeted, faking a warm smile. He chuckled, clearly nervous.

“I heard a big bang earlier; did you find that big beast and take care of it?” The human asked. Star’s hand drifted down to the bubble hidden in his pocket.

“Yep!” he responded, popping the ‘p’. “You won’t have to worry about it now.”

“Thank god,” the human sighed before offering a genuine smile. “Want to stay over for a while? I know a good hotel-”

“No, thank you, though.” Star cut the human off, still smiling. “I’ve got to get back home.”

“You sure?” The human asked.

“Sure,” Star nodded. The human watched him for a moment before shrugging.

“Your loss.”

Star walked off before the human could say more, his smile falling when the human was out of sight. The Sapphire pulled his hood up to cover his expression, walking as casually and as fast as he could. He’d been to this town many times before, unintentionally earning himself a friendly traveler reputation. And true to his nature, he strived for everything to be pleasant around him.

He smiled and waved at each human that greeted him, engaging in brief conversations with those who asked him questions, and graciously accepting any small gifts offered. By the time he arrived at the edge of the village, the sun was dipping down the horizon, and Star felt the weight of exhaustion settling in.

“Alright,” he muttered, more to the gem in his pocket than to himself. “The warp pad should just be down this road.” The shadows of the night devoured the last remnants of sunlight, and hidden pockets of light illuminated his path. His own gem began to glow with its blue hue, casting a gentle radiance that helped him navigate through the darkness. Intrigued, he took out Painite’s gem, holding it in his hand to see if it, too, would glow. Surprisingly, it did, but the light was subdued and took on a purple hue due to the blue bubble encasing it. Star wondered how Painite’s true red color would look in the dark, but he dismissed the thought, assuming it would be dull and muted, much like Painite’s current appearance. Star pondered what might have happened to his once-vibrant friend for his colors to fade into a pale pink. Was it the corruption? It seemed unlikely, as most of the Corrupted gems he encountered retained the vibrant colors of their original forms. So, what had happened to change Painite’s appearance?

The warp pad glowed subtly in the surroundings, concealed yet unmistakable. Star felt a tired smile spread across his face as he stepped onto it, clutching Painite’s gem close to his chest to ensure it wouldn’t slip from his grasp in the beam. The white light enveloped him, a low hum filling the air as he traversed to his home. The journey took only a few moments, and as the light dissipated upon arrival, he stepped off the pad and took a deep, unnecessary breath. His home, Mask Island, was saturated with the sweet scents of nature and pure water. Though he didn’t require air, he appreciated the olfactory experiences it offered. His smile grew a bit as he strolled down the familiar path he had tread countless times.

His eyes lifted to the split mountain in the center of the island, a frown creasing his features as he recalled the event that had caused it to crack open. He was grateful that Rose, Pearl, Garnet, and Amethyst had managed to thwart the Cluster, just as he had foreseen many years ago. When he first glimpsed that timeline, concern had gripped him about Rose’s fate, fearing that it might be altered, as if she wasn’t truly there. Yet, as the world beneath his feet still flourished under the first rays of the sun, he found ease, finding he had nothing to worry about.

His home, aside from being part of Mask Island itself, consisted of a simple cave within the mountain that had remained unscathed. While it lacked the embellishments he had envisioned, its dull grey walls still emitted the comforting yellow bioluminescence. It wasn’t filled to the brim with decorations, but it was home—his home. However, he knew there was one more task to accomplish before he could retire for the night. Stepping to the center of the cave, he summoned his shadows, drawing them from his gem’s light to form a large, protective dome. Placing Painite’s gem at the dome’s center, he stepped outside, ensuring Painite wouldn’t escape. Using one of his shadow hands, he punctured the blue bubble, and Painite’s gem fell to the ground.

Star stared at the freed gem, nerves coiling in his chest as he waited. He recalled that Painite had only poofed once before during the many years they’d known each other, and it had taken a considerable amount of time for him to reform. Star wondered how long it would take now that he was corrupted.

As it turned out, not very long. Painite’s gem began to glow in its vibrant red hue, illuminating the cave as his form emerged. Star winced as it shivered and glitched from the crack, but Painite reformed with a gasp. The red gem fell to his knees, frantically surveying his surroundings, eyes wide with shock. Upon spotting Star, an animalistic hiss escaped from his mouth, and he instinctively retreated as far as he could. Star winced, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender to try and calm the other gem down.

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you,” Star said softly, slowly, keeping a careful eye on Painite. The red gem continued to stare back, his mind not fully present, as he emitted a low growl. Star took a few steps back, recognizing it as a warning growl from past experiences. He patiently waited as Painite gradually regained his composure. After a few minutes, Painite blinked and slowly looked around.

“…Where am I?” Painite asked, his gaze returning to Star. The Sapphire didn’t respond immediately, lowering his hands and allowing Painite to stand, leaning on the dark navy of his containment.

“You’re on Mask Island,” Star explained gently, enunciating carefully to ensure his words reached the red gem. “You’re in my home.” To his surprise, Painite emitted a sharp laugh.

“I’m in your home? This hardly looks like a temple,” Painite remarked, his voice trembling slightly from exhaustion. Star frowned, torn between leaving Painite to rest and pressing for the information he sought.

“How did you survive the Diamonds’ blast?” he inquired, stepping forward until he was a foot away from the dome. Painite glared at him, his teeth clenched and bared in an obvious threat, but he appeared too weary to do more. In fact, it seemed Painite knew he was too fatigued to fight, so he opted to provide an answer instead.

“I hid in Earth’s crust,” Painite replied simply.

“But how?” Star pressed, unsatisfied with the brevity of the explanation. His insistence drew a hiss from Painite.

“The Cluster didn’t get corrupted,” Painite explained slowly. “It was too deep for that. I thought if I got deep enough, I would be safe.” He paused, shifting his weight slightly. “I was not fast enough.”

That was all Star needed to hear. “Okay,” he breathed, nodding to himself. His eyes snapped to Painite’s leg as it glitched, forcing the red gem down with a shout. Star responded by shouting the other’s name and bringing a hand to his gem, summoning the old healing liquid from the depths of his memories. Luckily, the glitching on Painite’s form faded quickly, leaving the red gem on the ground. “Pain,” Star called, waiting until the other’s single eye stared at him. He lifted the liquid floating in his hand, holding it out in an offering. “I can heal your gem if-”

“No!” Painite hissed, wincing as he got to his feet again. Star recoiled as if he’d been hit, surprise evident on his features.

“No?” Star repeated, confused. “What do you mean no?”

“I will heal my own gem,” Painite responded, leaning heavily on the wall of the dome. “I do not need your help to do so.”

“Dude,” Star said incredulously. “Your gem is cracked, a good hit and it would shatter.”

“Then so be it,” Painite responded, finally gaining enough strength to only leave a hand on the wall in case he fell again. “But I will heal on my own.” Star stared at him, mouth slightly open in confusion.

“Wait? You don’t mind being shattered?” He asked, watching as Painite slowly began to walk closer, using the wall to guide him.

“No,” Painite responded simply. Star waited for something else, an explanation, a reason, anything, but all he got was silence. So instead he prodded. “Why?”

“Why?” Painite repeated, stepping closer. “Why not?”

“Why not? Because if you get shattered, you’d die,” Star said. “You want to die?”

“I don’t mind dying,” Painite responded, his arm slowly lifting in a gesture Star recognized well.

“Well, you should,” Star responded, keeping his eyes on Painite’s face. “You shouldn’t mind dying. There’s so much to live for on this planet.” That got a laugh from the other, short and fake.

“There is nothing on this planet worth living for, other than it being a good gem-producer planet,” Painite responded. “Besides, it has a new purpose. Soon the cluster should emerge; I felt those quakes.”

“The cluster has already been calmed,” Star said, causing Painite to pause. “I saw it 5321 years and two weeks ago. The cluster has been subdued, and I don’t see it returning anytime soon.” Star didn’t flinch as Painite’s arm thrust forward in a pathetic attempt to hurt the other. He did flinch when Painite’s arm pushed against the dome before recoiling with much more force than necessary, forcing the gem back and knocking him off balance.

Painite landed on his back, and a horrified gasp escaped Star as he heard the tell-tell sounds of a gem cracking. Painite’s form erupted into glitches, lasting much longer than the one before. When it settled down enough for Painite to reform fully, the red gem rolled onto his side and laid there. Star saw a few small yellow shards fall to the floor, bringing a kind of dread Star hadn’t felt since the Diamonds decided to corrupt the rebellion.

“Painite! Your gem!” He said, dissipating the dome and rushing forward. He knelt by the other, earning himself a weak hiss. He held out his hand with the healing water, his hand shaking slightly. “Please, please, please just let me heal you.” He begged, hating how the Diamonds had made him. To never give, to never act without being asked first. He hated how he was made to just be a future seeing and better pearl.

“…Only the Diamonds… can heal a gem…” Painite said weakly, glaring at Star.

“Come on dude, all you have to say is yes! You know how I was made, you know!” Star begged, tears beginning to pool in his eyes as fear caused him to shake. Painite simply stared, his expression softening from the hardness Star was so unused to. But just as quickly as it came, it vanished, leaving Painite to turn away.

“No.” He hissed.

“What is your problem?!” Star yelled, dropping the water and allowing it to fall to the ground as he stood up. He was tired of his friend’s attitude, hating the stubborn nature he had once loved. “Why won’t you let me heal you?!” Painite didn’t respond, only laying still as he looked away. Star groaned, burying his hands into his hair as he fought the urge to go destroy something.

“Fine!” He finally yelled. “Be that way! I’ll be back in the morning, and when I do, I better get an explanation as to why you’re being such a stubborn and stupid ass!” He reerected the dome with a grunt and turned on his heel, storming out in the open night. He left for the warp pad, knowing exactly where to go to vent his frustrations.

╭──────────.★..─╮

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊

┊ ┊⋆ ┊ .

┊ ┊ ⋆˚ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭

✧. ┊ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭

⋆ ★

When Star returned to Mask Island the next morning, he wasn’t surprised to find his cave empty. Instead, he stood there, gazing at the tiny yellow shards scattered on the ground. A heavy sigh escaped from Star’s lips as he stepped off the wall he had leaned on, embarking on the paths he had etched into the earth. He wandered aimlessly, not actively seeking Painite, already resigned to the likelihood of not encountering the other gem for another millennium or so. The idea of visiting Rose crossed his mind—it had indeed been a substantial span of time.

With that contemplation, he altered his course toward the island’s warp pad. As he strolled, he observed the quaint watermelon creatures that now populated the island. Star had even picked up a smattering of their language, learning from them that his vision of the Malachite fusion had indeed come to fruition. The thought was disheartening, but he found solace in knowing that the remaining Crystal Gems had managed to handle the situation in his absence.

A sudden voice interrupted his musings, prompting him to shake off the inquisitive watermelon beings who had tagged along. Swiftly and quietly, he dashed towards the voice, halting in astonishment when he beheld Painite, forcefully pressing his corrupted foot onto the warp pad. Painite’s countenance twisted into a snarl, and it seemed as though he was barely restraining himself from summoning his weapon and assaulting the pad. “Why won’t you work?!” Painite bellowed in frustration.

Star hesitated, well aware of Painite’s propensity for coldness and hostility. Despite the lingering anger that urged him to confront Painite, his concern for his former companion took precedence. “Painite?” he called out tentatively, taking a cautious step forward. Painite’s head snapped towards him with a sickening crack, and for a fleeting moment, Painite softened slightly with surprise. Yet, that softness vanished as quickly as it came, replaced by a snarl as the red gem bared his teeth.

“What do you want?” Painite hissed, his attention fixated on activating the warp. Star assumed Painite regarded him as either too insignificant a threat or had already accepted his fate.

“I was just going to visit someplace,” Star said, maintaining a distance. Painite continued to glare, and Star respected his space. “Is something wrong?”

“You,” Painite hissed bitterly. “You’re the problem. If it wasn’t for you cracking my gem further, I would be able to leave this diamond-forsaken planet.” Star sighed, nodding apologetically.

“I am sorry for that,” Star said earnestly. “I can heal you if you want.” He flinched as Painite’s glare intensified.

Painite scoffed, and his expression hardened. “You think I’d trust you after what you did? I don’t need your help. I will find that damn fountain of yours and heal myself.”

Star paused. “Wait, fountain?”

Painite sighed. “Yes, the rumor of some healing fountain the rebellion used to heal gems. If it exists, I intend to find it.”

“Oh, it does,” Star said, earning a slightly less angry, confused look from Painite. “I helped make it.” Painite stared at him for a long moment, causing Star to fidget slightly under the gaze. Suddenly, Painite seized Star’s coat, pulling them close enough that their noses nearly touched. Due to Painite being on the warp pad, Star found himself shorter than the other, causing his face to redden from the unexpected proximity.

“Take me to the fountain,” Painite commanded, utilizing the authoritative tone Star had missed. The closeness and the rough voice almost next to his ear made Star melt momentarily, surrendering himself to the unexpected intensity. A good shake, however, brought him back to his senses, and he straightened up.

“R-Right! Sure!” Star stammered out, offering a crooked grin. Painite scoffed and released the Sapphire. Star yelped as he fell, his legs too jelly-like to hold him up. He groaned as he hit the ground, laying there for a moment before sitting up and rubbing the back of his head.

“You’ve been around too many humans,” Painite stated. “You’re acting like one.” Star laughed sheepishly before standing and hopping onto the warp pad, determined to push aside the warmth of the other’s breath on his face. Now was not the time to dwell on past connections.

“To the garden!” Star declared, waiting for the white light of the warp pad to envelop them. Nervousness crept over Star as the warp pad failed to illuminate, and Painite shot him a pointed look.

“Well?” Star flinched, rubbing the back of his neck.

“The warp pad to the garden must’ve been damaged,” he admitted, laughing nervously in an attempt to defuse the growing tension beside him.

“What?” Painite demanded. Panicking, Star scrambled to find a solution.

“I can take you to the next closest warp pad!” he suggested hurriedly. “A-And I can take you there directly!”

Painite seemed to ponder the option, studying Star intensely. Just as Star was about to propose another alternative, Painite spoke, his tone gruff, “Fine.”

“Wait, really?” Star asked, taken aback.

“Do not act like an idiot, Sapphire,” Painite hissed. “Just take me to the fountain, and I will let you live until I can repair the homeworld warp.” Star furrowed his brow but nodded nonetheless. With a simple thought, the warp pad activated, transporting them to the next nearest warp. The short journey was enveloped in silence, with only the subtle hum of the light surrounding them. Star considered offering an apology, as he had done millennia ago, but he hesitated, turning his gaze away.

The light subsided, revealing a sprawling field of strawberries and butterflies drifting gently on the breeze. Painite inhaled sharply, prompting Star to steal a glance at his reaction. The corrupted gem appeared lost, gazing over the field with an expression Star couldn’t quite decipher. After a moment, Painite blinked and stepped off the pad, unintentionally crushing a strawberry in the process. He then turned toward Star with a pointed look, his expression now devoid of the earlier confusion. Star nodded and hopped off, following an invisible path. Yet, curiosity got the better of him, and he couldn’t resist the allure of conversation.

“Sooo….” Star began, glancing at Painite from the corner of his eye. “Did you ever fight here?” Painite remained silent, and Star assumed he wouldn’t respond.

“Yes,” Painite finally replied, prompting a surprised “huh?” from Star.

“Wait, really? That’s cool! What was it like?” Star inquired, turning around and walking backward to face his travel companion. Painite frowned and swatted away a curious butterfly.

“Were you not there? You should have seen it for our Diamond,” Painite retorted, earning a wince from Star.

“Well, I had foreseen it. I told Pink that the battle would be horrible, but that there were going to be multiple. There were so many that I don’t exactly remember the details,” Star responded.

“Speak her name with respect,” Painite hissed before continuing. “This place is where the rebellion turned the tide of the war. And I was there from the beginning.”

“Really?” Star asked. “What was the biggest one? I remember you were a commander then.” Painite frowned, but Star knew just how to encourage him to share war stories.

Star could see the internal struggle on Painite’s face, but eventually, he sighed and began recounting the tales, much to Star’s delight. “The most significant battle I led was the one that changed the tide. It was destructive, and in the first half, we were winning.” A slight smile appeared on Painite’s face, lost in reminiscence. “We nearly shattered half of the rebellion forces with barely a scratch on our own. I could easily see their attempts and their paths, making it easy to thwart their plans.”

However, his smile quickly faded into a solemn expression, and Star noticed Painite absentmindedly rubbing his gem. “I became too confident, too cocky, and I paid the price. A single gem’s strike took out the leader of our forces, and the battle shifted in their favor. With my crack, I couldn’t fight on the front lines or guide my forces, and that’s the only reason you won.”

As the atmosphere turned somber, Star chimed in with a meek “Oh.” After a brief pause, he ventured, “I remember that day. I’m sorry.”

“Your apologies will not change the past, Star,” Painite responded, saying the name with a surprising absence of hatred, momentarily catching Star off guard. However, the resurgence of resentment was swift, and Painite’s gaze transformed into a piercing glare. “Now, how long will this ‘trip’ take?”

“Oh, just a little over a month.”

“What?!”

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witchy-writer-lady · 3 months ago

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Answering @justforfitsandgiggles as a part of Fanfic/Author Ask Game

Of course, you can ask for my thoughts on these questions, all of them referencing the Tsuna x Gojo stories.

2. Which of your fics is your pride and joy?

Hard to say. I love all three of them, but if I had to pick... Of Dragonflies and Lions due to the variety of AU it has. Your requests really helped my muse and imagination.

5. What’s something you learned while researching a fic?

How to write a realistic panic attack (I wrote it for the first time for chapter 10 of Infinity in the sky) and floriography. And the names of Japanese Eras.

8. What is your favorite line/section from [insert fic]?

Again, hard to say. But if I had to pick. It would be this scene:

Regardless, the week ends quickly, and true to Shoko’s word, one morning she wakes up to kisses from her adult husband.

“I see you are back to normal,” she says, closing her eyes in bliss.

“I am,” he says, continuing to kiss her face. “So what happened? I remember returning to school from a mission with Ijichi and then poof! My memory is blank, and then I woke up in bed with you in Megumi’s room of all places.”

“Oh you decided to remember your early childhood,” Tsuna says teasingly, deciding to mess with him a little. “You were a brat to everyone and followed me around like a little duck; it was cute. I even took a few photos.”

Satoru stops his kisses to stare at her incredulously. Decided to remember his childhood? Been a brat? Just—what? “What photos? And for what?”

“Oh you know,” she waves a dismissive hand. “Photos of you during that time for remembrance’s sake. And maybe blackmail. Maybe I should title the photos “Baby Toru”.

“Blackmail—wha?” Satoru gapes at her in shock. “Tsuna!”

17. What is something you recently felt proud of in your writing?

Hmm, let me think. Recently I felt proud that thanks to the various AUs, I gave Tsuna various roles: Sorcerer, Star Plasma Vessel (I do not count Sky Arcobaleno one because this was done before me). Plus, I felt proud that I gave Tsumiki and Noritoshi's older brother identity beyond their roles as siblings. Take that, Gege!

20. Share your favorite kiss scene from [insert fic]. If there's no kiss scene, share your favorite moment of intimacy (romantic or platonic)

Favorite kiss scene? Hmm. I have one.

“I love you too,” Tsuna says as she wipes his tears away. “But I can’t stay. This is bigger than both of us. I knew what end awaited me and was ready for it. The only thing I regret is leaving you as you are about to enter the hardest period of your life.”

“What do you mean?”

Tsuna merely smiles instead of an elaborate answer. “You will understand someday,” she says, placing her hand against his heart. “Just know that I will always be in your heart. Thank you for the most wonderful nine years of my life.”

Satoru lets out a body-wrecking sob before diving in to kiss her. Their first and last kiss tastes like Satoru’s tears.

24. Which scene/theme was the inspiration for [insert fic]?

Well, the common theme is, "Give Gojo happiness and how he would react to KHR characters" because I hated how Gege handled his character. That, and me genuinely enjoying this pair.

Hope that helps. Thanks for the questions. If you have more, the ask box is yours to use!

#ask games #fic writer ask games #fic ask games #SatoTsuna #jjk #khr

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nikatyler · 1 year ago

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🌈 2023 ✨

Another year is over so it's time for a look back at what was happening on this blog! I haven't really been around, it was just my queue, and maybe that's one reason why I looked at my archive and went "huh" at everything. I don't remember much. The other reason why this year probably went poof in my head is because I was dealing with some mental health stuff lol. I say lol but it wasn't actually very lol but I'm doing better now and 2024...is looking promising for now.

So, let's talk more under the cut, shall we?

January

We're in Bridgeport and Sawyer is living his best life. You know, girlfriends, boyfriends, being turned into a vampire, giving birth to three little vampires, threatening to sell his enemies' organs on the black market...best life indeed.

February

Okay I am now seeing that "talking more" about every month will be impossible since I actually don't have much recollection of 2023 lmao

March

Sawyer and Erin are at the best point of their relationship, but we left them alone for a bit and went back to NSB. Pastel just moved to Strangerville and got a...rather strange roommate.

April

The rather strange roommate becomes Pastel's rather strange wife. I love these two so much. We also say hello to Moss -- and also to Ross, who returns from...god knows where. I mean yeah, there was the ts3 Ross, but technically they're two different people. Parallel universes and stuff.

May

Thea is born and strange wife Jesse gets even stranger. That whole "merging with the mother plant" thing was kinda weird but I really enjoyed it. Idk what I was on but it was fun. And then, before returning to the lepacy, I posted my Cottage Living screenshots! ...which were really just me going "uwu what does this do" on every possible Wicked Whims option.

June

...and I went from posting weird WW Ross stuff to posting wholesome Growing Together Ross stuff. If that gave you a whiplash, I am sorry, but imagine what it must be like for me. I'm locked with this guy in my head 24/7. He's the whiplash king. A blorbo to you, a curse to me. A beloved curse tho. Ok I'm getting weird. Back to the lepacy.

July

Lepacy time! Loved the soap opera Generations gen. Kinda wish I had sticked to some of the storylines instead of going "eh nvm I just wanna play". I'm not saying I regret not actually letting Saywer go on a killing spree but also...imagine if he went on a killing spree. You don't see that in lepacies often do ya

August

August was...welp 💀 I was at the grippy socks hospital for most of that month, 10/10 would recommend, but my queue ran out while I was there so I just reblogged some old stuff for a few weeks.

September

September is just lepacy month. Cornelia and Archer are happy, they get married, they get more children...yeah. Good wholesome Generations times all around. It's not like they're gonna get divorced later or anything.

October

The twins are kind of chaotic, one of them turns into a ghost, both then bring their cursed imaginary friends to life...and the final child of Archer and Cornelia is born.

November

I loved running into Sawyer at the grocery store all the time. Weird vampire alleged killer grandpa behavior suits him. Dorothea goes away to a boarding school, hates it there and instantly comes back. Relatable. Oh and midlife crisis hits Archer hard.

December

And we're in December! Dorothea enters her horsegirl era and finds herself a girlfriend...and we'll continue that in 2024!

What's in store for the new year besides the lepacy? Well, Not So Berry will be making a return (and HOPEFULLY we'll finally get to the end. we need to). There's a story I want to do in the NSB universe, if you know you know. Before we dive into the next lepacy generation, I'm thinking of another BC with the gen 7 heir...oh and Marika's Black Widow. Shoot and I'm starting an irl job in January. Yeah no we're not doing all this in 2024, don't count on it 💀 But I'll try.

Happy New Year! ��

#ts3 #ts4 #sims 3 #sims 4 #the sims 3 #the sims 4 #sims #simblr #fleur extra #breeze nsb legacy extra

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softodettes · 2 months ago

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hello! it has been....(checks calendar)....a while. ....oops? sorry. see this is why I don't make promises to myself that I will do things. if I do that, those things never happen. because last time I promised myself that I would reply almost immediately (after my brain processing time) to the new chapter. and then of course the universe has to make life be, well, life. (which resulted in a three-week hiatus from tumblr) but at least I'm back? and it's the holiday season! so happy! (well. first I have to get through end-of-the semester exams. saw your reblog about finals week about three days ago and that is literally me right now. I am deeply concerned about my sleep schedule lmao. counting down the days till break starts 😭) before I say anything about the chapter I wanted to add that I agree with @siobhanbooks wholeheartedly. I had (have, it's stored somewhere in my brain) so many theories, and then that happened and all those theories just went poof! onto the chapter! (I pre-wrote this as I read, and, yes this WILL just be, for the most part, my reaction to that scene.) "He turned to pick his shirt up, and Brennan was too shocked by what he saw to stifle his gasp. The entire expanse of Xaden’s back was covered in angry, raised scars; Brennan didn’t think there was more than an inch or two of unmarred skin. He’d seen plenty of injuries in RSC and on the mats to immediately recognize dagger scars, but why Xaden had so many was a fucking mystery.

Xaden jerked back around, quickly tugging his shirt back on, but Brennan had seen enough. “What the fuck happened?” he choked out.

“I made a deal.”

“With a masochist? What kind of deal was this?” my poor baby Xaden! also. um. so. Brennan. hate to break it to you but that "masochist" is your mother. it's going to be....something... when he figures that out. spoiler alert: he figures it out. "You took a hundred and seven cuts to your back?” Brennan scrubbed a hand over his face. “Who was insane enough to even do that to you?”

“General Sorrengail,” Xaden snarled, “the fucking bitch.”

No.

She couldn’t have.

Brennan knew the General was ruthless—she had to be, to rise through the ranks the way she did—but to do this to a teenage boy was just fucking cruel.

But after the past year, he also knew she wasn’t the person he thought she was… she wasn’t the parent he thought she was.

Anger flared to life inside him. Gods, every fucking time he thought she couldn’t get worse, the General—his mom, his flesh and blood—still managed to surprise him. When would Brennan be able to finally accept that whatever decent memories he had of her before this happened were just lies?

And to think that he was related to her.

Fuck. Xaden didn’t even know that."

there is going to be so. much. fallout. when Xaden realizes who Brennan actually is. and to be honest I wouldn't blame him. "Gods, he couldn’t go on like this. He couldn’t keep Xaden in the dark, letting him ignorantly befriend and be trained by the son of the woman who made a child take responsibility for more than one hundred other children." uh oh. is he going to do it? "Brennan took a breath, and then he began to unravel his life of lies. “I need to tell you something.” Xaden raised an eyebrow. “I’m not who I say I am. My last name isn’t Aisereigh.” Brennan took another breath. “My real name is Brennan Sorrengail.” and......of course he did it. then again I'm happy he didn't consciously keep the secret knowing what happened to Xaden. it would have made it all the more worse.

"The gym was silent, until Xaden snarled, “You’re a fucking Sorrengail?”

“I am,” Brennan said evenly. “But I’m on your side. I’m on the revolution’s side.”

“Don’t fucking say that.” Xaden circled Brennan, like a predator sizing up its prey. Underneath his own anger at what his mom had done, Brennan was proud of the progress Xaden had made, even if it meant coming to blows over his confession. “Your bitch of a mother killed my dad. She burned my city down and killed my people.”

Brennan didn’t respond; what the General had done was out of his control, and he wasn’t her, but for Xaden, it probably didn’t matter. Brennan figured if Xaden couldn’t make General Lilith Sorrengail pay, then he was likely the next best thing.

“I should kill you for what she did,” Xaden growled, before he lunged at Brennan with newfound fervor.

This was different from their previous training sessions—Xaden’s movements lacked their earlier finesse, and they were frenzied, reminding Brennan of a rabid animal. Even then, he wasn’t worried—despite Xaden’s previous training and Brennan showing Xaden his tells over the past few weeks, he was still no match for Brennan.

With each fierce hit that he blocked, Brennan began to realize that Xaden probably needed this release of pent up emotion. He’d likely spent a year looking after Liam, the way an older brother looks out for a younger sibling. And he probably had to maintain a front for any Navarrian riders who came sniffing around Tirvainne, lest he give them a reason to punish Fen Riorson’s son.

Combine that with Xaden’s visceral hatred for Lilith Sorrengail, and it made for a volatile fight.

Brennan was forced onto the defensive, until he redirected a punch aimed for his head that Xaden quickly followed with a combined hit to Brennan’s stomach and a leg hook around his knee. The movement sent Brennan to the mat, and Xaden quickly followed, giving him no time to recover.

Instinctively, Brennan focused on protecting his most vital organs—his head and his throat, since neither of them were armed and daggers weren’t a threat right now—as Xaden messily lashed out.

Despite his lack of control, Xaden was plenty persistent, and it paid off when he found an opening and slammed his fist into Brennan’s nose. Brennan felt and heard the painful crunch of cartilage moving, and immediately knew Xaden had broken it.

“Fuck!” Brennan cursed.

While Brennan was momentarily stunned by the sharp pain in the center of his face, Xaden used the opportunity to land a second punch on the side of Brennan’s head. His ear immediately felt hot, and Brennan knew Xaden had probably burst a few blood vessels there.

Underneath the shooting pain overwhelming his senses, Brennan knew that Xaden probably just needed to hit something, and Brennan just happened to be the nearest target. But he also wasn’t going to let Xaden treat him like a punching bag. He started to wrestle the boy into a submission hold before he could break any more of Brennan’s bones.

They were both panting by the time Brennan pinned Xaden underneath him, though Xaden’s breaths sounded more like sobs. The training mat was splattered with the blood still pouring from Brennan’s nose, and some of it had ended up on their clothes and smeared across Xaden’s knuckles.

“Are you done?” Brennan demanded through heavy breaths. He could taste copper in his mouth.

Xaden didn’t respond.

“Alright.” Brennan tried again, “If I let you go, you can’t swing at me again. I don’t have another nose for you to break.”

Xaden stayed down when Brennan took his knee off Xaden’s back.

Brennan immediately tugged his shirt off, pressing it to his still-bleeding nose and wincing when he pressed too hard. Xaden still didn’t move, and Brennan started to worry. “Are you okay? I didn’t get you anywhere, right?” Brennan was pretty sure he was the only one bleeding, but one could never be too sure after a messy fight like that.

Just like the last two times Brennan had tried to speak to Xaden, he didn’t respond. He just wordlessly stood up, wiped the blood off his face—whether it was his or Brennan’s, Brennan didn’t know—and stormed out of the gym without looking back.

In the sudden quiet of the empty gym, Brennan began to think that he might’ve fucked up." first: that fight scene was impeccable. seriously. I applaud you for that. second: oh you think you fucked up, Brennan? amazing conclusion. you really, really fucked up. third: Xaden is now dealing with things the "Xaden way". also known as shutting himself off and doing stupid things. yay! (again, I don't blame him, but he needs better coping mechanisms.)

“Brennan?” Calla gasped.

As a healer, she was taught to be level-headed, to never let her patients see her fear or concern. But all that training went out the window when her husband wandered into the infirmary shirtless, with a blood-soaked wad of fabric pressed to his face. I love how she's just used to calling him her husband now. even in her head.

“What the fuck happened?” she continued, ushering him to one of the vacant curtained-off beds.

“Xaden happened.” Brennan’s voice was muffled underneath the fabric still pressed to his face.

As soon as he sat down, Calla gently removed the crumpled fabric—probably Brennan’s shirt, seeing as he was shirtless—and discarded it on the bed to assess the injury. Dried blood had smeared down Brennan’s chin, covering the lower half of his face and a bit of his neck. When he opened his mouth, his teeth were bloodstained, and fresh blood still dripped slowly from his nostrils. His ear was swollen too, but it wasn’t as concerning for Calla as the broken nose was.

She sighed as she gently probed the swollen skin around the crooked cartilage. “Well, whatever he did must’ve been effective, because he broke your nose.” She grabbed some gauze and began mopping up the blood on his face.

“I figured.” Brennan winced as she used a little too much pressure.

“Why didn’t you mend this on your own?”

He shrugged. His eyes looked a little unfocused, and Calla decided not to push him. “Well, I need to set it, so it doesn’t heal crooked… do you want to try mending it instead?”

Brennan shook his head. “It’s better if you set it.”

Calla tried not to sigh again. Resetting a broken bone wasn’t her favorite thing to do, despite getting plenty of practice in with the infantry and rider cadets back at Basgiath. She used to happily default that responsibility to Lieutenant Colonel Colbersy and her classmates. But seeing as the mender in front of her didn’t move to mend himself, she didn’t have much of a choice. “Alright. Deep breath in for me.”

Brennan inhaled, and Calla quickly began to manipulate the crooked cartilage back into place. His brows furrowed and his lip curled as he cursed quietly. “Godsdamnit.”

Calla was quick to reassure him. “I know, I know. I’m almost done.”

“Fuck,” he breathed as soon as Calla stepped away. The skin underneath his eyes was already beginning to bruise, shades of red blooming outwards from the swollen bridge of his nose.

“Let me grab some ice for the swelling,” she said, slipping out from behind the curtain to the ice chest.

When she came back, Brennan had propped an elbow on his bent knee, resting his forehead in his hand. Part of her wanted to pry and ask what had happened with Xaden, but she knew she shouldn’t, the same way he hadn’t pushed her to share about her dad back in May. I also love how this scene shows her understanding that she shouldn't pry. I think she might have before she knew him better, but now they have a better grasp of each other's boundaries. (or I'm reading too much into this lmao)

Calla stepped closer to him, cupped his jaw with her hand, and gently tilted his head up. Brennan’s unfairly long lashes fluttered on his cheeks as he slowly blinked up at her. She tried to be gentle with the wrapped ice, but he still winced when she placed it on his nose.

“You’re going to have two black eyes,” she observed quietly.

Brennan’s hand came up to encircle her wrist, and she could see where flakes of blood had collected underneath his thumb nail. He didn’t respond to her; he leaned his head into her palm and closing his eyes again.

Calla steadfastly ignored the small flutter deep inside her that the movement triggered."

FLUFF! THIS WAS SO. CUTE. we're going to see how long Calla can ignore that "small flutter".

"She brought it up again that evening as they were getting ready for bed. “Are you sure you don’t want to try mending it?”

The bruising around Brennan’s eyes had darkened into a deep purple, and the ice Calla had applied in the infirmary hadn’t done much for the swelling; the cartilage at the top of his ear was still swollen and misshapen too. She knew he wouldn’t get much sleep tonight if he didn’t do something for his nose.

Brennan sighed as he tugged his shirt overhead, and Calla didn’t even try to stop herself as her eyes took in his bare upper body. Attraction was just that, she reminded herself, it didn’t have to be anything more.

He climbed onto the bed, running a hand through his curls and making them stick up. “I’m just…” He sighed again, and Calla waited. “I’m not very good at mending myself.”

Calla blinked. Of all the things he could’ve said, she didn’t quite expect that. And why would she? She’d spent enough time working with Brennan in multiple infirmaries, and she knew he was an excellent mender. Lieutenant Colonel Colbersy used to say he’d probably be the best in Navarre less than five years after his graduation.

She sat next to Brennan and crossed her legs. Her knee brushed against his thigh, and she quickly shifted so they didn’t touch. “Well… what’s mending like?”

Brennan ran his fingers over the embroidery on the bedspread between them, brushing against a Tyrrish thistle, langa, and clag-ghuirmean gathered in a thread bouquet. “Powerful,” he said quietly. “When I put my hands on someone, my signet searches for whatever’s wrong in their body. And then I make it right.”

Sometimes, at Basgiath and Athebyne, Calla was envious of that power, the ability to instantly know what was wrong with a patient. But she’d also heard the whispers at Basgiath, about what riders went through to get power like that, and she knew she was never meant to be anything other than a healer.

Still, she was curious. “Does it feel different when you use it on yourself?”

“That’s one way of putting it.” Brennan traced his fingers over the flowers next to their legs before he said, “With other people, my signet has somewhere to go. It has an outlet. But with myself, there’s nowhere for it go. No release of power.” Then he smiled slightly. “Y’know, Naolin used to work with me to figure out why that was. He was a siphon, so he knew all about the concept of an outlet and the flow of power. Gods, he was fucking brilliant.” Brennan’s voice quieted at the end, like that part was only meant for him to hear.

Calla didn’t exactly understand because she’d never had any power from a signet to begin with—she never would.

But Naolin had. And that level of understanding was something she’d never really be able to give Brennan.

She tried not to think about that." Brennan is very much an oblivious idiot. he is hurting poor Calla. she's trying.

“So, theoretically,” she said, adding a lighter note to her voice to try to ease Brennan, “if you were to mend your nose, your power wouldn’t have anywhere to go?”

“Basically.” Brennan huffed out a small laugh and eyed her. “You’re not going to leave this alone, are you?”

She shook her head, smiling slightly.

“Fine.” He turned fully towards her. “Watch as I fail.” There was a slightly bitter note in his voice at the end.

Something inside Calla soured, and she suddenly wanted to tell him that he could stop, that she’d let her curiosity get the best of her and he didn’t need to do this, not for her, but it was too late, because Brennan closed his eyes and lifted a hand to his cheek.

The swelling in his ear and around the bridge of his nose started to go down almost imperceptibly, and she leaned in for a closer look. The purple and red smears underneath his eyes started to fade, and they were almost gone, before Brennan’s brows pinched together and some bruising came back. Not as much as before, and they were farther along in the healing process than they initially were, but the bruises were still bad enough for Calla to know he hadn’t fully mended himself.

She didn’t realize how far she had leaned in, just how close they were, until Brennan opened his eyes, and they stared at each other, their faces only inches apart. For a moment, Calla could barely breath as her chest suddenly grew tight.

“See?” Brennan finally said, breaking the small spell that had briefly settled over them. “I can’t do it.”

Calla leaned back, out of Brennan’s orbit. “It looks better than before,” she offered.

“But it’s not perfect.”

Calla didn’t know what to say about that. this is Brennan revealing little parts of him (even the bad ones) and Calla drinking them in.

love, love, love it.

for the next passage. the one about Brennan taking to the skies with Marbh. I thought it was beautiful because of the way he dealt with grief. and these three lines were ones I wanted to highlight. "Maybe he never would.

Maybe he would feel like this forever.

Or maybe if he stayed in the air long enough, the ache would dull again, and he would remember how he had started to move through life this past year with part of himself missing. I think this was just phenomenal because the first two lines were how I felt when I cope with things, and then the last one was relatable because when I deal with grief (and this is just my personal experience), I revisit certain areas much too often, and my thought process is almost exactly the same as Brennan's: that the ache will somehow dull and I'll be able to keep moving again.

"Riorson House was quiet. It seemed everyone else was either mourning or hiding. Brennan was glad, because the less people who knew his identity he had to face, the better.

Despite not being his mom and losing everything he’d known and loved a year ago, he still felt like he was at fault—even if the only thing he was guilty of was believing his chain of command and being born a Sorrengail.

Calla had squeezed his hand tightly when she saw him as she was leaving their bedroom, and he was returning after his flight. She’d smiled sadly at him, before closing the door softly behind her." Brennan 🥺 he has to deal with so much. they all do.

"Brennan debated crawling back into bed and spending the day there, but he decided to head down into Aretia, to try to mend something and make himself useful. And if Xaden’s voice saying I should kill you for what she did echoed inside his head each time he mended a wall, a chimney, a roof… then it was to the benefit of the people whose lives the General had ruined.

He pushed himself, and his signet, until the sun began to set over the mountain peaks towering over the city, Marbh uncharacteristically hovering inside his mind the entire time.

Dinner was a quiet affair that evening, and Brennan scarfed his meal down quickly, eager to escape from the small crowd of people eating in the hall.

Each time someone’s eyes lingered on him, he worried that Xaden had told someone about his confession, that Calla’s responsibility and their marriage wouldn’t protect him from the wrath of the heir, and he would be forced to leave Aretia and the cause he wanted to dedicate himself to. It was irrational, and Brennan knew Calla would defend him if she needed to, but he couldn’t help the anxiety that crept up the back of his throat.

Between that and the ache in his chest, Brennan desperately craved fresh air by the time he finished eating. His original plan was to head up to the valley above Riorson House, but his feet took him to a staircase at the back of the house.

Brennan decided to climb, up and away from anyone who might see him, until the stone stairs stopped and a steep, wrought-iron spiral staircase began. He figured the staircase would take him up to the roof, and he followed it until it ended, too.

All he sought was a space where he could simply exist in the darkness and pretend, even for just an hour, that the past year hadn’t happened. That he was still Brennan Sorrengail, the man who knew nothing about the state of things beyond Navarre’s borders and hadn’t yet known the loss of Naolin that still ached deep inside of him now.

When he opened the door and stepped onto the roof, he was met with the sweet, herbal scent of churam in the air. One glance at the small defensive turret told him it was Xaden, smoking a joint and gazing at the mountains in the distance like Brennan had planned to do." ......I sense so many similarities.

“How long have you been up here?” Brennan asked, before Xaden could strike a match.

He froze, glancing at Brennan out of the corner of his eye. “Couple of hours. Why?”

“And how many of these have you had in those couple of hours?” Brennan knew Xaden wasn’t his responsibility, but he couldn’t help himself; maybe he was destined to always parent whichever child was closest to him. It wasn't like he had his hands full with his sisters anymore, he bitterly reminded himself.

“Shields.” Marbh gently reminded him, in a way that almost uncharacteristic. “I would prefer to not hear about this… interesting den dynamic you’ve formed tonight.”

“Sorry,” Brennan replied sheepishly. His shields always seemed to be sloppier when he wasn’t completely sober.

“Were you just delaying your lecture, then?” Xaden asked. Brennan didn’t respond right away, and it seemed like Xaden took his silence as a response. “This is going to be my third,” he admitted.

“Tonight?” he asked incredulously. Fucking gods. While Brennan knew today was probably difficult for Xaden too, especially considering who his dad was, it didn’t change the fact that the revolution would suffer if the heir got high and fell off the roof of his own house.

“I took breaks in between,” Xaden argued.

Brennan sighed and dragged a hand over his face. “Have you at least had some water? Or food?”

Xaden didn’t reply, and Brennan leaned over and snatched the joint from Xaden’s hand.

“Hey! What the fuck?”

“I’m not giving this back to you,” Brennan said as he tilted his head towards the unlit roll of churam between his fingers, and continued before Xaden could speak. “I’m sure you know what you’re doing, but if you keep going, the roof is probably going to start moving soon. Go eat and drink something, then go to bed.” Xaden opened his mouth, probably to argue, but Brennan beat him to it. “You’ll thank me in the morning when you don’t wake up with sand in your mouth.”

Xaden rolled his eyes but stood up anyways. Brennan watched carefully as Xaden picked his way across the roofline, ready to jump up if needed.

“Guess I’m heading inside,” Xaden grumbled as he opened the door. But he must not have been too irritated, because he only slightly slammed the door shut, leaving Brennan alone with an unlit roll of churam that he didn’t really feel like smoking alone." major big brother energy. (This is part one. very long. I'm sorry. part two will be here soon (hopefully!) but I didn't want to break your ask box with the sheer amount of text lol)

HI ANON!! no worries because i am the exact same way when it comes to doing things when i say i will (my update schedule is physical proof of this LOL). best of luck on your finals!! you're so close to being done and then you finally get to sleep!!

and bestie i'm gonna be honest i definitely cried reading this because reading all of your in-depth reactions was the BEST. i then proceeded to yap like crazy underneath the cut in response LOL. i look forward to part 2!! 💗

POOR BABY XADEN IS RIGHT!! i hate making him hurt and stuff, but it's necessary backstory stuff 😔 and i definitely could've drawn out the reveal but i also think Brennan's guilt probably would've eaten him alive ddhfhdgf and you're right that it would've made things even worse! and thank you so much!! i felt insane writing that fight scene but i'm so glad it read well 🥰 Brennan definitely fucked up LOL and Xaden is absolutely doing what he does best: shutting himself off. (he definitely does but alas, it's Xaden).

i LOVE that you picked up on the small "husband" detail... like the habituation is getting to Calla heheh. and she does have a better grasp on his boundaries! i feel like a lot of how i write these interactions between them is based off of how previous actions made them feel, and so they both get into a give and take and wanting to return the favor to the other person (this is especially true for Calla because i feel like she struggles a little more with opening up than Brennan does). YES FLUFF!! i love adding little moments of fluff to ease the tension and angst. Calla is definitely a bit (really, a lot) in denial, and it's very fun to work with narratively. AND BRENNAN!!! this man is so oblivious but also he doesn't mean to!! Calla is trying so hard, but Brennan has no clue, so here we are. i love that you're loving this EEEEEE!!!!

the passage where Brennan went flying with Marbh was one of my personal favorites to write. i'm so happy that it's a realistic depiction of grief, but i'm also so sorry that you relate to it ❤️‍🩹 losing Naolin was such a life changing thing for Brennan, and he knows he can keep living after it, but it still hurts. the ache does dull, and it starts to lose its sting, but it's still there, and it can still flare up.

and that scene definitely had major big brother energy!! trying to write his relationship with Xaden is so tricky, but it's also been so fun.

#anon my beloved i always love your asks #i went crazy underneath the cut ngl #cried because getting to read someone's reactions to what i wrote is one of the best feelings #💖 anon #asks #after resurrection

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fountainpenguin · 1 year ago

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"Suspense is controlling my mind... I can't find a way out of here..."

---

New 130 Reasons Why I'm Fairy Trash update today!

Fairly OddParents || One-Shot - “Approval”

Read on FFN || Read on AO3

Find more Lavender Train story arc HERE

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A glimpse into 155,000-year-old Foop's life on the student council as he decorates the gym for a high school dance. Guest appearances by Poof, Denzel, Kevin, the von Strangle twins, the O'Terrae clones, Whistle, and Foop's betrothed: Anti-Coriander.

(First 1000 words under the cut)

40. Approval (~5,000 years after "Temptation" and 5,000 before "All I Ever Wanted")

Wednesday February 8th, Aurora 177

Year of Water, Winter of the Powerful Rapids

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If Foop had truly had an inkling of how much work it takes to run the school as its student body secretary, he may not have bothered campaigning. Honestly they were three years into the current zodiac cycle and he still hadn't decided if he'll run for the position again.

He probably would. He most definitely would, so he didn't even know why he was complaining. The one and only cycle that he reigned as student body president with Poof as his secretary, half the meetings didn't get their minutes recorded in any real detail, and Poof had typed every single document using the Central Star region's way of spelling Snobbish words.

And other minor annoyances… like, he'd written out directions once and called the first floor "second floor" and Foop spent 30 minutes flitting around in puzzled circles until it clicked that he and Poof were using different terms for their destination. He walked in late and his snacks were cold. Hmph. No one ever seemed to have that problem when it was him sending out newsletters. Atrocious.

And when Poof had double-dipped his hand briefly into the role of student body treasurer, the budget may as well have been sliced in half with the way Poof divvied up their things. Honestly, it felt sometimes like his counterpart flopped in his various roles on purpose just to make him miserable. He'd like to believe Poof was better than that level of petty, but sometimes when you were dripping with exhaustion and low on caffeine, it was impossible to tell.

Poof's on freaking peppermint a solid 70% of his waking hours anyway. A lot of help HE is. He supposed he could thank his counterpart for getting addicted to candy in a way that let Foop operate sober and without temptation of any kind. That was the only silver lining to any of this.

Foop despised his counterpart's peppermint habit, but like Darkness would he ever rat Poofy out to his mummy and daddy. No. They both relied on their parents' approval- if not for physical comfort and safety, then certainly for emotional support. Hard pass. Disgrace. Poof had far too much dirt on him to ever make him risk tipping their mutually assured destruction too far to one side.

My secret affairs with Anti-Marigold come to mind… His father will flay him alive when he finds out about that. An anti-will o' the wisp… Really. The prince of Anti-Fairy World could have done "so much better in a mistress" (and High Count Anti-Cosmo will painfully let him know it). His lecherous father was a textbook nymphomaniac. Foop would rather die than allow the pooferazzi to document Anti-Cosmo dragging his son out to all his old brothel haunts or… or… something like that.

Do we even have brothels in Anti-Fairy World? Who knows. That's not the point. The High Count undoubtedly did something scandalous with his spare time when he wasn't holed up plotting world domination, and whatever that thing may be, Foop would sooner sprint one billion kilometers in the other direction than ever face it head-on.

Anti-Cosmo didn't approve of the fact that Foop ended up on student council in the first place. Foop had cheated some of the vote (as he'd cheated it for years) by relying on bashful simpletons like Whistle to campaign in his favor while simultaneously threatening others into voting for him. He'd stuffed the ballot box and didn't even care. Honestly, part of him suspected the school knew what he was up to, and Foop took cruel pride in the fact that if he managed to do a good enough job keeping the school activities flowing, the faculty might simply look the other way. Oh, there's such a great joy in being wanted as a leader instead of merely feared…

Not that my father understands that. My position is secured someday, especially if I don't have heirs until I'm so old that my wand sparks when I use it. Meanwhile, my father will be twisting his neck, peering anxiously over one shoulder in cold anticipation of my rise to power until the day he dies.

Ah, youth. He reveled in it.

At least Poof knew how to lead a meeting that kept all the officers engaged. Poof had this animated way of speaking where he sort of gushed over his words, the long tails of his blue bandana ribbon snapping behind him in an imaginary wind every time he paced. He could sell a genie on underwater real estate. Maybe that was why the people kept electing him student body president year after year.

They'd been setting up for tonight's dance since before the window for early-morning breakfast wishes closed off. Well… Foop had, anyway. It wasn't really necessary. In a pinch, magic could always be whipped out to speed the process along, but Foop had his own… reasons for wanting to keep eyes on their location for hours at a time.

He traced the pad of one finger along the dark scar that curled around his neck. Left side, just above the collarbone…

Cavatina Sanderson had slit that scar across Poof's innocent skin 20,000 years ago, during the same Autumn Masquerade where Foop first met Anti-Coriander. Foop had even died and regenerated a few times since then - not on purpose! (mostly) - but the scar wasn't his to heal. This same scar branded his counterpart's neck. It had been given to Poof first, and the stupid sync between their cores kept it firmly in place like a teeter-totter. Terribly annoying.

He never knew how to explain it when strangers asked. Wasn't even his battle wound to brag about. Or Poof's, for that matter… That infuriating pixie had simply backed his counterpart against a wall and shoved a blade right up to his neck. Poof just let it happen. And if he'd done it at one dance, Foop had no reason to believe he wouldn't make another appearance tonight.

Therein lay the anxieties.

[Cnt’d - FFN and AO3 links above]

#FOP #Fairly OddParents #FOP Foop #130 Prompts #ridwriting #Nerdy blue bat son #Purple hippie dragonfly #Snazzy sequel son #Panicked sequel son #Cilantro princess #Cavatina #Big Crock #Little Crock #FAIRIES!#Bat cube and associates #I wrote / drew this in May. It's been a long wait #apparently art #fic announcement

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what-a-weird-rose · 1 year ago

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PandaLily: The Things You Are (Literal Art)

Pairing: Lily Evans / Pandora Lovegood

Rating: E

Prompt: Oral

Word Count: 2.8k

Lily pulls her hair back, tying it in a knot at the base of her skull.

Four hours is nowhere near enough time to finish a piece this massive- least of all when her subject has up and vanished off the face of the earth. She shouldn’t be surprised; she knows she needs to curb her disappointment with him. But after almost a decade of friendship, Lily would’ve assumed she would have the slightest bit of priority over Severus’ time- especially after he’d promised to help her. Call her naïve; God knows all her other friends have. Lily tries to see the good in everyone, even if it’s left her blindsided on more than one occasion, but even she knows there’s only so far she can be pushed.

She scrambles for a bit, genuinely considering whether or not she can pass with a failed final project. Then, Lily mopes and cries and spends ten precious two-hundred-forty minutes feeling sorry for herself. Finally, and with great resolution, Lily sends a quick text to Mary and Marlene to ask if they know of anyone free and willing to sit in her studio for the next three hours; they respond almost instantly.

Apparently, there was a new girl on campus that Mary and Marlene had met in the library so odd weeks ago. Supposedly, they’d been trying to plan a meeting between Lily and Pandora -as they’d called her- but the two’s schedules were always packed. However, Lily thought it was a subtle jab at herself more than anything. Mary had set the group chat up with Pandora, Marlene, Lily, and herself, then made quick introductions before kicking Marlene and leaving herself.

Pandora was. . .

nice, for lack of a better word. Very willing to help, asking appropriate questions, then finishing the short interaction with, ‘Where would you like to meet? :)”

Lily had hesitated, though she would never in a million years admit to it. She had never seen this girl before, and, as much as she trusted Mary and Marlene, there was no guarantee that Pandora would fit the piece- and how was she supposed to tell a stranger that? But, she decided, at last, she might as well try.

Lily had rearranged her studio four times in the seven minutes it took for Pandora to read her text and show up. Instead of sitting imposingly in front of a drab-wallpapered background -as Severus had insisted- Lily had decided to put Pandora in front of the large bay window -only after stalking the girl’s Instagram. Pandora posted little of herself, if at all. There were snippets of her hands, hair, shoes, and skirts, but most of her feed was the world around her: friends, plants, food, and the raccoon that had made friends with her cat. So, as much as it distressed her, Lily forced herself to set the portrait based on the aesthetic choices of someone she’d never seen in person.

Then, the knock came.

Severus had told her on many occasions -re: every time he visited- how ridiculous the security in her building was, as though she had any say in the matter. He had also made many a ‘joke’ about how easy it would be for a ‘low-life’ -she assumed he meant Remus- to break in and hurt her -his joke rarely ended well. But in this scenario, Lily thought she might agree with him- she felt incredibly unsafe, with clammy hands, a swirling stomach, and a rock in her throat.

But feelings be damned, Lily Evans had a task- and she never left a task unfinished.

The door swung ungracefully, getting caught on its hinges halfway open. At the same time, an ear-splitting screech filled the open air as the old hinges decided halfway would just have to be well enough. Lily thought about poofing into thin air.

“The architecture of this building is quiet fascinating,” the short, blond girl before she stated severely. Lily momentarily thought this was a mistake- that this girl couldn’t be ‘sweet, lovely’ Pandora, not with the serious stare and cutting commentary. “My friend, Regulus, is studying to become an arcitect and he said-” she coughs once as Lily steps aside to let her in, “’ you can always tell when the builder was lazy based solely on the longevity of the building.’ Or something to that effect, he always gets so prissy when he talks about design.” Pandora giggles, and suddenly, it’s like a unicorn-sunshine hybrid has walked into Lily’s home, talking about the intensity of too-smart boys who try too hard for too little.

Lily is caught almost completely off-guard, especially as Pandora sits on the plushy bench before the window and stares wide-eyed in Lily’s direction. It’s almost as if the air in the room huddles around Pandora, forcing Lily her way lest to suffocate.

“You’re very pretty, though I’m not sure if I’m surprised or concerned. . .” Pandora trails, suddenly shifting to look out the glass.

“Why might you be concerned?” Lily says with as much grace as she can muster; she turns on the kettle for safety.

“I have a thing.” Pandora states with the utmost gravity. Lily raises her brow in question, and Pandora nods seriously. “Everytime I meet a pretty girl, they fall dreadfully in love with me.”

Lily wants to laugh, but there is something about the way Pandora says it that makes her think the sentiment is hardly a joke. “And that’s a bad thing?” Lily shuffles her rack of teabags toward Pandora- lavender and lemon.

“It is, yes. They fall head-over-heels for me, except I never realize until they’ve long moved on, and the worst part,” Pandora begins as Lily motions to situate herself on the ottoman. “Is that by the time they’ve gotten over me, I’ve developed a crush on them!” She wails, though it seems to be only for comedic effect. Lily tries to laugh politely and ends up snorting.

“I see, quite the issue you’ve got there.”

“It’s horrible. And I would ask my friends to tell me whenever they know because they always know, but they would just laugh!” Pandora leans back against the exposed brick wall beside the window, allowing the steady orange glow of the slow sunset to highlight her.

Lily feels every fiber of her being hone in, feels the moment the charcoal touches her fingertip, and her consciousness evaporates. But it’s nice, in a way, that her painting models have rarely been before. Pandora is thoughtful, asking questions about the project -a portrait of a ‘beautiful person’- and the medium -anything and everything- and what she needs to do -sit as still as possible. And she’s generous, playing soft classical music from her phone that doesn’t affect Lily’s flow. Suddenly, an hour has passed since Pandora arrived, and the sketch is done. Pandora thinks it is lovely, and she can leave now if she’d like since it’s getting so late. But Pandora asks if she can stay to see how it turns out, if only to make quiet conversation with a shell-of-a-person. And who would Lily be to say no?

Pandora plays with her bracelets, the beaded one, the chains, and the metal bands. She tries her hardest to stay still despite knowing that Lily doesn’t need her to stay exactly where she is anymore. Pandora keeps herself still because, from the angle she sits at, she has a perfect view of the face Lily makes as she rubs oil pastels into the canvas, the perfect view to watch the face of concentration that overtakes her as she mixes paints, searching for the right shade. Pandora wishes the easel was tilted slightly more, if only so she could see how Lily interprets her- how this woman sees another.

Pandora shivers and hopes Lily doesn’t notice. She leans forward and grasps at the handle of the magenta mug before her. The tea is long cold, but Pandora has never been particularly picky about such things. So, she takes a long sip and watches over the mug’s rim as Lily readjusts herself. Pandora licks her lips.

A decently sized wooden antique clock hangs on the far wall behind Lily. From what she can read on it -Evan swears up and down she needs glasses- it’s about 9:30 at night, and Pandora can feel the exhaustion finally begin to set in. Her heart aches as Lily makes another disgruntled sound, tears a paper towel from its roll, and drabs gingerly at the canvas.

“Is there anything I can do?” Pandora whispers into the empty. Lily pauses momentarily, almost startled, then turns and nods vaguely.

“Coffee, if you would? I’ll take it however at this point.”

Pandora rushes up and into the kitchenette, two coffees.

By 11:59 p.m., Lily feels on the verge of a mental breakdown and a hallelujah moment. She sends the photo of the decorated canvas to the professor, McGonagall, who requires digital and physical versions of students’ work. As the clock strikes midnight, Lily can feel her adrenaline, anxiety, and emotions drain out like the water in an emptying bath.

Lily turns to Pandora, who had passed out on the ottoman near the three-hour mark, and gently grabs all the mugs that littered the end table. She makes her way into the kitchenette as quietly as possible, setting mug after mug onto the counter to be washed later.

“Is it over?” Lily hears Pandora whisper.

“As of two minutes ago, I have officially finished my final project.”

Pandora shoots up, not unlike a rocket, and beelines to where Lily stands near the stainless-steel sink. Pandora’s arms are loose and gentle, yet tight and intense. She holds onto Lily like a lifeline, plunging her face into the crook of Lily’s neck.

“I knew you could do it,” Pandora whispers into Lily’s skin.

“You helped more than you could ever know.” Lily replies, whispering into the wild curls of Pandora’s hair.

“I’m glad,” Pandora says, pulling back to look at Lily in the eyes.

Lily hears the words before she registers, saying, “I’m going to do something stupid.”

“What brand of stupid?”

“The kind that someone sleep-deprived and high on adreneline uses.”

Pandora stares at her, and Lily wonders if she dare to kiss this beautiful, mysterious stranger.

Their lips connect before Lily has the chance to second-guess herself.

Pandora tasted Lily’s cheap coffee, the lavender-lemon tea Lily had bought in bulk, and the copious other snacks they had been devouring throughout the night. Pandora tastes of long nights and gentle mornings, summer rain and winter sun, and dark flats in early summer as the school year approaches. Pandora tastes of the future, near and far alike.

Pandora runs her hands down Lily’s sides, pushing the pair out of the kitchenette and into the living space. The sofa is wide enough to support the both of them as they collapse into one another in a tangled, twisted mess of limbs and love.

Lily situations herself so she can lay with her head propped by two throw pillows and the armrest; Pandora leans over her, leaving bites and kisses as a breadcrumb trail of their adventure.

The flat is all but pitch black, the only light coming from the lamp Lily had been using to paint. The room was left to the faint glow of the white light bouncing off wall after wall to reach them- it never would.

Nothing could reach the two of them now as they tangled into one another, pulling and tugging and pushing and biting, anything and everything to allow the slightest consumption of empty space. Pandora seemed hell-bent on climbing her, and Lily could hardly stop her. Instead, Lily found herself grasping at the thick woven belt tied around Pandora’s and using it to haul the other girl up and into her lap.

“More.” One of them whispers, and neither knows which.

“Yes.” They say in unison as their hands meet and their lips join again.

Eventually, Lily unties Pandora’s belt, shimmying her shorts off and onto the ground elsewhere.

“More.” Lily says, and this time, she is certain it’s her.

“Yes.” Pandora replies, yanking her top off with relish.

Lily presses a soft, beautiful kiss to the top of Pandora’s breast, cupping them in her hands, “Tell me what you want, darling.”

“You.” Pandora says, even though she knows it will be cheesy. She tucks a strand of red hair behind Lily’s ear. “Give me whatever you’re willing to give.”

“Okay,” Lily whispers into Pandora’s skin. Her tongue glides over Pandora’s breast with experience, lapping at perky nipples and moles and small acne scars. Her lips follow the same route, kissing over Pandora’s breast, sucking nipples into her mouth to pull and kiss and feel, over and over again. She licks and kisses and breathes in Pandora.

Then, as she feels Pandora shift in her lap, Lily grips her hips, pulling them down to grind against her own.

“How far do you want to go?” Lily questions, sucking at the soft spot behind Pandora’s ear.

“I want to watch you cum.”

“Fuck.”

Pandora shifted them once more so she was kneeling before the sofa. The hardwood was certainly uncomfortable, but Pandora seemed to not notice it as she lowered her head down to nip at the clothed crotch of her partner.

For perhaps the first time in her life, Lily regretted her choice of jeans as her painter’s outfit. Mostly, Pandora made disgruntled noises as she continued to nip listlessly at the offending pants. Eventually, Lily pulled them off alongside her crusty painting top and panties, if only for her own sake.

Pandora made quick work of returning to her station between Lily’s legs, licking and sucking and kissing at Lily’s thighs and cunt. She also seemed prepared for Lily to beg for more as she quickly offered her fingers to be sucked.

And perhaps it was the combination of the two -having her clit viciously stimulated and having a pretty finger in her mouth- that led to her quick orgasm, but either way, Lily was distraught.

“Sorry, sorry, I-” she started, even as Pandora continued licking and sucking, “fuck, I didn’t mean to cum.”

Despite her attempts, Pandora seemed unbothered, remaining steadfastly between Lily’s legs, lapping up cum and spit and wetness.

At some point, not long after, Lily had wrapped her hand in Pandora’s hair, using it to guide how Pandora moved.

“More,” Lily says again, and Pandora moves quickly as she uses her middle finger to push into Lily’s cunt. There was a moment of complete silence as Lily let her head fall back and felt every millimeter of Pandora’s finger push further inside.

Then, Pandora began pumping- in and out and in and out and in and out and-

With her tongue pushing right into Lily’s clit- her left-hand working overtime to not only spread Lily’s legs but also rub tight circles into her clit-

Lily felt the waves rolling into shore again- her orgasm left her legs shaking and her brain fuzzy.

“You now.” She mumbles, and Pandora smiles, gently shuffling them so she can lay spread on the couch, and- “No, no. On my face.” Lily says tightly, already laying back.

Pandora pauses before nodding and scooting up and near Lily’s head. “Are you sure?” she whispers, moving again only after Lily confirms. She swings her leg over Lily’s head and uses the armrest as leverage to hold herself up. Lily begins slowly, softly giving tentative licks to Pandora’s dripping cunt.

Pandora moans, loud and guttural, as Lily grasps her sides and pulls her down to rest more of her weight on Lily’s face. Lily groans in reply, the vibrations following up and into her tongue. Her tongue seemed to have a mind of its own as it viciously licked at Pandora’s clit.

Lily’s hands hold tightly onto Pandora’s waits even as she writhes through her orgasm, nearly spasming over the two. Lily considers continuing, much like how Pandora did, but holds herself back as Pandora shuffles and taps gently on the hands that hold her.

“Are you alright?” Lily asks immediately, suddenly very self-conscious.

“Oh, yes, I’m just not sure that I could stop myself if we kept going.” Pandora says sagely, opting to scoot closer to Lily on the defiled sofa, “I have classes. . . later this morning that I have to be at, unfortunately.”

“Which mean you have to go?” Lily unhappily murmurs, and Pandora nods, pushing herself off the seat in one huff and reaching around to tug on her clothes. Lily watches, entranced, as Pandora ties the woven belt back around her waist.

“You have my number, yeah?” Lily nods dumbly, pulling her bottom lip into her mouth, “good, be sure to use it, pretty girl.”

#(smutty) tales from the hogwarts broom closets #Tales from the Hogwarts Broom Closets #marauders #young marauders #the marauders #marauders era #dead gay wizards #mwpp #mwpp era #pandora lovegood #pandora lestrange #pandora rosier #lily evans #pandalily #pandora x lily #smut

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