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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years ago

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Polyphonic

Chapter 3 ao3 (alt: tumblr pt 1, pt 2)

Lan Qiren wanted to speak to Wei Wuxian about everything they needed to do, but it would have to wait: the moment they arrived, they were immediately swept up into the political mess that Jin Zixun’s ill-fated ambush had caused.

Jin Guangshan was there in the blink of an eye, despite normally taking his time in seeing anyone, and Lan Qiren didn’t like the way he started making excuses for his nephew’s behavior from the very start. It was to a certain degree understandable, as everyone would first incline towards defending their family, but the haste with which Jin Guangshan sought to sweep it all under the rug was disconcerting, and Lan Qiren thought it was almost suggestive of some level of premeditation. Even more distasteful, however, was how he sought to twist the entire event into being yet another reason Wei Wuxian ought to surrender the Stygian Tiger Seal to the Jin sect: for his own good, of course, in order to avoid being made into a target on account of the disdain of the cultivation world –

“Sect Leader Jin, your words are in poor taste,” Lan Qiren said sharply.

He could hear Jiang Cheng, who ought to be defending Wei Wuxian and was trying his stuttering best to do so, starting to waver; the boy had a pleasant rippling melody by nature, forced into a fierce allegro by his parents’ endless disputes and his later tragedies, and the weak foundation meant that he was too easily buffeted by uncertainty and doubt, as Jin Guangshan undoubtedly knew.

“Let us not speak in abstraction,” he continued. “It was your sect, your nephew, who launched this particular ambush. You ought to be making a formal apology to Wei Wuxian and thinking of reparations to repair the injury to your sect’s reputation, not acting like a thief complaining to the magistrate that his victim failed to hand over his property quickly enough to prevent violence!”

Jin Guangshan’s eyes narrowed in irritation, though he fought to keep the expression off his face as if it could disguise the swell of bitter rotten music that accompanied him wherever he went. “Teacher Lan,” he said, striving for composed and charming but mostly coming off as stiff and wooden. “Come now, I must be misunderstanding you. Surely you are not accusing me of being a thief.”

Historically, as Jin Guangshan well knew, this was when Lan Qiren backed down, mindful of his position as interim sect leader – his sect granted him much of the responsibility but not the full measure of power that typically accorded with the title, and he was conscious, always, that his role was to ensure there was something preserved for his nephews to inherit.

Perhaps Jin Guangshan had forgotten that Lan Qiren was no longer interim sect leader.

“I am describing the facts as I see them,” he said icily, straightening his back and levelling his best teacher’s glare, refined by years of troublesome students. “And they are this: by the agreement of the cultivation world and through his own powers, Wei Wuxian was inviolate and unbothered as long as he remained in the Burial Mounds. Despite this, he willingly chose to emerge in response to an invitation issued by your sect, only to be attacked by your sect – and when he comes to you for justice, rather than grant it to him, you suggest that he hand over his most prized possession to prevent any similar attacks in the future. Unfamiliarity may require me to consult my sect’s texts to be sure, Sect Leader Jin, but only to determine if I should be calling it extortion, blackmail, or outright thievery!”

“Teacher Lan!” one of the smaller sect leaders gasped, even as Jin Guangshan went utterly florid with rage. “You’re not suggesting that Jin-gongzi was involved in the ambush!”

Lan Qiren had been Jin Zixuan’s teacher and knew him well – he had been a shy, introverted boy whose awkwardness came off as aloofness, and would never have done anything like this. Even less so would Lan Qiren suspect such a thing of the man who had been steadied by war and responsibility into an adult with a firm moral foundation.

“No,” he said, and met Jin Guangshan’s eyes directly. “I believe Jin-gongzi’s invitation to have been wholly sincere.”

For a moment, Lan Qiren thought Jin Guangshan was actually going to strike him, his aura lashing out violently like a clash of cymbals, discordant and biting, and he braced himself, but in the last moment etiquette prevailed and Jin Guangshan refrained, although his fists were clenched so tightly that his veins stood out from the backs of his hands.

That was when Wei Wuxian opened his mouth.

Lan Qiren silenced him with the muting spell before he could get out a single syllable.

Jiang Cheng sent him a thankful glance and cleared his throat. “This is a serious matter,” he said. “It requires a full investigation; we won’t be able to solve it all talking now. Both Wei Wuxian and Teacher Lan have traveled a long way – I have no doubt that they need some time to rest and refresh themselves.”

A convenient way to stop anyone from starting a fight, and implicitly excusing Lan Qiren’s rudeness as a mere symptom of exhaustion, resolving the whole thing without losing any more face for anyone. The Jiang sect’s boy was picking up this whole politics business quite well, the poor child.

“I concur,” Jin Guangshan said, recovering a little of his poise. “There are rooms ready for you both.”

Lan Qiren inclined his head as well. “An excellent idea,” he said, and then, because he could now, added, “We can discuss reparations for the ambush later.”

“And what about the curse?” Jin Zixun hissed, clearly done with holding his tongue the way everyone had been so obviously instructing him with their eyes. “Am I to simply suffer while that criminal walks free and unharmed?”

“When I said there would be an investigation, I meant it!” Jiang Cheng snapped. “I doubt your curse is so advanced that it can’t wait another day, and if it is, then you should have brought it up earlier!”

“Why you –“

“Sect Leader Jiang has spoken,” Jin Zixuan interrupted, his voice hard. “Zixun, don’t forget that you must also answer to me as to what you did to my guest in my name without my permission. I think it might benefit you to ‘rest and refresh’ as well. One of the servants can take you to see a doctor.”

Jin Guangshan seemed on the verge of objecting, but Jin Zixuan seemed not to get the hint, already turning his face away.

“In the meantime,” he said, saluting politely, “Sect Leader Jiang, Wei-gongzi, would you come with me? A-Li is waiting to see you both.”

Lan Qiren allowed himself to be whisked off in a different direction to settle down, which in all honesty he did need to do. He hadn’t flown such a distance in years, had been in better health when he’d done so, and he had been tired even before all this excitement; some rest would do wonders for him, even if it did make him feel a bit like he’d become a doddering old man or an invalid. Before he could settle down, though, he heard a sound approaching – a little uneven, sometimes too fast, sometimes too slow – and despite the fact that Jin Guangyao had never been anything but polite to him, he felt his back tense up at the reminder of why he was here in the first place.

“Honored teacher,” Jin Guangyao said, smiling and saluting deeply – more than he should, really, given that Lan Qiren was neither a sect leader nor had ever been his teacher. “Welcome to Jinlin Tower. I regret that your arrival was marred by such unpleasantness, and hope that the remainder of your visit is calmer.”

It’s not Jin Guangyao’s fault that Lan Xichen likes him, Lan Qiren reminded himself. Your suspicions, and your family’s terrible luck at love, are your own burdens to bear. They should not be put onto others.

He nodded to Jin Guangyao.

“It would be good to see a peaceable resolution to today’s events,” he said neutrally. “I appreciate that you have come to check on me personally. It is truly going above and beyond the call of duty.”

“Your nephew is my sworn brother, Teacher Lan. How could I fail to honor you as my elder?” Jin Guangyao said smoothly. “Let me know if there’s anything we can do to make you more comfortable.”

“A bath before dinner would be nice. Has my nephew arrived yet?” Lan Qiren privately hoped that he hadn’t, and was relieved when Jin Guangyao shook his head, confirming it. “Let me know when he does.”

“Of course,” Jin Guangyao said, and saluted again. “I’ll inform the servants; a bath will be made ready for you by afternoon.”

The moment Jin Guangyao left the room, Lan Qiren traced the pattern along the hem of his robes that shook off the dust of the road, returning them to being as clean and pristine as always – not a long-term solution to laundry, but very effective in the short-run, and one that he’d only refrained from doing earlier in order to drive home the point regarding how he had also been victimized by Jin Zixun’s ambush.

It was a profound relief to be clean again.

Once he could no longer hear Jin Guangyao’s familiar chords, he relaxed, which unfortunately these days meant coughing. He rubbed his chest when he was done, sighing, and settled down with his guqin to start playing a little, hoping to ease his nerves. Lan Xichen would be on his way already, he knew, and would probably move even faster once he got word regarding Lan Qiren’s presence. He’d made rather a lot of trouble for his nephew…

The door slammed open, and only years of experience with troublesome children, along with the warning echo of a song free and clear, full of shining righteousness, allowed Lan Qiren to remain unmoved by the cacophonous crash.

“So I have questions,” Wei Wuxian said. “Many, many questions, and I’m going to want answers to…uh, are you all right?”

Lan Qiren ignored Wei Wuxian’s rush, finishing the stanza he was playing and letting his hands still over the guqin. “Sit, and I will answer your questions to the best of my ability.”

Wei Wuxian closed the door behind him and put up a talisman for privacy, like the ones they used to use during the war, before coming to sit across the table from Lan Qiren. He was frowning. “Honored Teacher Lan, your lips are red,” he said cautiously. “Were you coughing up blood just now?”

“An old injury from the war,” Lan Qiren said, unable to resist recalling the memory of Wen Xu’s wild smirk as he’d deliberately smashed his ribs into pieces, grinding his palm against Lan Qiren’s chest to force the broken pieces to pierce his lungs. Nie Mingjue had executed Wen Xu only a few months later, a matter that had greatly eased his nightmares…truly Lan Qiren had to get to the bottom of this mystery as soon as possible; once Lan Xichen’s name was cleared, he could focus on trying to devise a solution to cleanse Nie Mingjue of the spiritual poison. “It can be aggravated by excess choler. Do not concern yourself about it.”

Wei Wuxian looked like he was concerning himself about it. “But you nearly –” Lan Qiren glared until he dropped the volume of his voice significantly. “You nearly got into a fight with dozens of cultivators back at the Qiongqi Path on my behalf! Wouldn’t that have aggravated it even worse than just getting angry?”

“Much worse,” Lan Qiren agreed peaceably. “My talents in battle are not especially notable, although better with the guqin than the sword. Regardless, the effort expended would almost certainly result in a severe backlash later.”

Wei Wuxian gaped at him. “Then why did you do it?”

“Was there an alternative?”

Wei Wuxian’s mouth opened and closed a few more times.

“How are your shijie and shizi?” Lan Qiren asked when it appeared that Wei Wuxian was not going to force any words out of his mouth any time soon. He folded his hands together in an appropriate manner – he, at least, knew his etiquette, and would continue to model it in the hope that Wei Wuxian might one day catch a hint. “Well, I trust?”

“Uh, yeah, they’re great. Jin Ling is perfect, shijie is wonderful, the peacock doesn’t deserve either of them, though he’s gotten better, I guess,” Wei Wuxian said, then shook his head as if to clear it. “And I wouldn’t have been able to see either of them if not for you.”

Personally, Lan Qiren didn’t think one Jin Zixun and any number of his friends would actually be able to stop Wei Wuxian, preplanned ambush or no, so he just hummed noncommittally. “You said you had questions?”

“Yeah, and now I have even more,” Wei Wuxian grumbled, but he seemed to settle down a little. “Let’s start with the fact that you said you needed help on a musical issue, but that it is also somehow an attempted murder. What’s that about?”

Lan Qiren grimaced. “Serve tea,” he instructed Wei Wuxian, and waited until he was midway through the process – and thus not staring straight at Lan Qiren – to start talking. “I have reason to believe that Nie Mingjue has been poisoned with spiritual poison.”

Wei Wuxian nearly spilled the tea, but managed to stop himself in time. “Chifeng-zun? Impossible!” Then he frowned. “I’d heard his temper was getting far worse, of late. Just mentions of it in passing…you think it’s because of that?”

“It may be. The Nie sect is prone to encountering qi deviations; a spiritual poison, especially one that specifically targets choleric feelings such as irritation and rage, would be particularly insidious when aimed against them. Should he die, everyone might be inclined to assume that the cause was hereditary rather than external.”

“A perfect murder. What type of poison?” Wei Wuxian’s eyebrows went up. “Wait – you think – musical poison?”

“My sect is renowned for using musical cultivation as healing techniques,” Lan Qiren pointed out, not sure why it seemed to come as such a shock to Wei Wuxian. “Antidotes grow alongside poisons, and all that can heal can also hurt – anyway, isn’t what you do a type of musical cultivation as well?”

“Good point,” Wei Wuxian said ruefully. “All right, that makes sense. That definitely seems like a real problem…but why do you need my help?”

“My health is poor, and I do not know what such an investigation will require,” Lan Qiren said. “And I cannot ask anyone in my sect to assist me.”

“Why not?”

“Because the primary suspect,” Lan Qiren said heavily, “is Xichen.”

Wei Wuxian stared.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a few long moments of blank gawping. “Please forgive me, honored teacher, but I think I misheard you. Are you saying that you think Zewu-jun is poisoning Chifeng-zun?”

“I hope dearly that he is not, of course,” Lan Qiren said. “In fact, part of the reason for my desire to investigate privately is to assist in clearing him of suspicion –”

“No, no, hold on, don’t move on just yet,” Wei Wuxian said, holding up his hands. “You think Zewu-jun – Lan Xichen! – might be capable of poisoning his sworn brother and, as far as I know, best friend? Your nephew?”

“Yes.”

“You really think he’s capable of something like that?”

“I have done my best to raise him to be the sort of man who would not be,” Lan Qiren said, and thought suddenly of his own brother – their father had treasured him, cared for him, valued him above all else. Would he have ever imagined that he would do what he had done and end up living out his life in seclusion, only to die pointlessly at the hands of the Wen sect? “And yet, who’s to say?”

“Uh, me? All the cultivation world? It’s Zewu-jun! He’s one of the most upright people I’ve ever met! You might as well suspect Lan Zhan – you don’t, do you?”

“No,” Lan Qiren said. He appreciated the righteous crescendo in Wei Wuxian’s voice, particularly when Lan Wangji was mentioned – unfortunate as it might be to find that Lan Wangji’s seemingly hopeless affection might actually be requited, since it remained a terrible idea – but it was a little inconvenient at the moment. “But equally I cannot burden him with the duty to suspect his brother. It would only hurt him.”

Wei Wuxian quieted down at that. “I can see that,” he said, grimacing. “But…why would you suspect Zewu-jun?”

“The evidence is – suggestive.” Lan Qiren shook his head. “To be clear, while I will of course value the truth above all else, I am not looking for evidence of Lan Xichen’s guilt. I am hoping to exculpate him.”

Wei Wuxian leaned forward, now frowning in earnest. “All right,” he said. “I still don’t really believe it, but other people might, and that’s bad enough. Even unfounded rumors can make for real trouble. Tell me what you know about it.”

“My nephew has been helping Nie Mingjue to ease the symptoms of his familial tendency towards qi deviations by playing him one of the strongest and most secret Lan sect healing songs,” Lan Qiren explained. “The spiritual poison I have observed in Nie Mingjue’s body is precisely a variation on that healing song – only instead of the pure version, which is designed to calm and heal disrupted qi, it is intermixed with another song that deliberately encourages spiritual turmoil.”

“All right. I suppose playing for Chifeng-zun gives Zewu-jun opportunity, but that doesn’t mean he’s the only one who could’ve applied the poison song.”

“The Song of Turmoil is a rare import, hidden away in one of sect’s forbidden books. Only very few people have access to that part of our collection.”

Wei Wuxian arched his eyebrows. “And yet you can immediately recognize it?”

“I enjoy studying obscure musical texts as an aid in composition,” Lan Qiren said, mild censure in his voice. “Would you dare claim you do not do the same?”

“…fine, fine, good point.” Wei Wuxian waved his hand. “Okay, fine…still, I’m not convinced. Even if the only source of the song is the Lan sect’s library, there was a lot of chaos these past few years. Someone else could have picked it up, couldn’t they?”

“It’s possible,” Lan Qiren admitted. “Unfortunately, the tune had the same starts and stops that are characteristic of Xichen’s playing.”

As a musical cultivator, even Wei Wuxian had to concede that the unique quirks of playing style were difficult, although not impossible, to replicate, and moreover that one would have to wonder why anyone else would bother doing so, especially in a spiritual poison they presumably hoped would go entirely undetected. He rubbed his forehead, clearly thinking it over. “So, wait, are you saying you heard this musical poison getting played? Were you affected by it? Why didn’t you interrupt in order to stop it or to find out who was responsible?”

Lan Qiren shook his head. “I did not hear the playing, only the effects.”

Wei Wuxian frowned. “I don’t understand. If you didn’t hear it get played, how do you know that the playing had Zewu-jun’s idiosyncratic characteristics?”

“I’m very familiar with how Xichen plays. How would I not notice it? Even if I only heard it intermixed with Nie Mingjue’s own base tone, the sound is distinctive enough to recognize.”

Wei Wuxian was staring at him, looking blank again. A moment later his brow furrowed as if he’d just had a thought that seemed strange to him. He said, “Honored teacher, a question. When I said I wasn’t the one who cast the curse on Jin Zixun, you said that the person who cast it played the guqin, not the flute. I’d been wondering…how did you know that?”

“The curse has the sound of a breaking guqin string, which does not accord with Jin Zixun’s own music,” Lan Qiren explained. “The person who cast it was moderately powerful and very well-trained, although this represents an overreach on their part. I think it is likely that they incurred a backlash due to the casting –”

“You just heard it?” Wei Wuxian interrupted. It was rather rude, but Lan Qiren supposed he’d signed up for that. “You just looked at him and heard the curse that had been placed on him?”

Lan Qiren nodded.

“You can hear what people’s spiritual energy sounds like?” Wei Wuxian was growing pale.

“Not spiritual energy directly,” Lan Qiren said, a little puzzled by what seemed like an outsized reaction. Not only was Wei Wuxian’s face pale, his fists clenched, but his song, normally so free and clear, had become suppressed, tense, tightly strung. “More in the nature of the sound of a person’s spirit itself. Your Ghost General, for instance; he has a very gentle melody, very soft, but the underlying base is harsh, jagged, thick with resentment, less playing than dying – he needs to learn to marry those two parts of his spirit together, or else he’ll have trouble finding peace. That’s why I offered to take him as a student.”

“What about me?” Wei Wuxian asked. He was almost vibrating with the need to know. “What about my music? Has it – changed?”

“It’s gotten a little more sober, which is not uncommon with tragedy,” Lan Qiren said, and felt as though he were on the edge of some terrible revelation. “But no, fundamentally you remain the same person you always were.”

Wei Wuxian exhaled, hard. A trill of relief.

“Something happened that made you think it would change,” Lan Qiren deduced, reaching up to stroke his beard thoughtfully. He watched as Wei Wuxian’s eyes flickered one way, then another. “Wei Wuxian.”

Wei Wuxian looked at him.

“Are you unwilling to return to orthodox cultivation – or unable?”

There was a world of difference between the two: one was arrogance, relentless and unrestrained, looking down at the truths the cultivators of the world and their ancestors had worked so hard to unearth, the other merely a depressing practicality – who wouldn’t choose to cultivate something if the alternative was nothing at all?

And yet…how could it be?

And why would Wei Wuxian be so terrified of letting others discover it?

“That’s none of your business,” Wei Wuxian said, teeth set in a bitter smile that was more of a grimace than anything else. “I agreed to help you, Honored Teacher, but my business is my own.”

“But –”

“Another question,” Wei Wuxian said. “Different subject: I know you don’t lie, and earlier you said…what you said. So tell me, what Lan sect girl has her heart so set on me that you decided to come tell me in person that I wasn’t allowed marry her?”

Lan Qiren blinked. “I only meant to advise you that it was a poor match for you both; it was not meant as an insult to you,” he objected, a little offended. “If you and Wangji insist, I will not stand in your way.”

He shook his head and sighed a little, regretful; he would not pursue the matter Wei Wuxian was hiding any further. He wanted to help, curiosity itching at him, but Wei Wuxian was right – it was none of his business.

“As long as your reliance on demonic cultivation does not impede your assistance in my investigation, I will not bring it up again,” he concluded. “How do you propose we begin?”

“…Lan Zhan?”

Lan Qiren frowned. “I already explained to you why I do not wish to involve Wangji, and that I do not suspect him. Why would we start with him?”

“Not for the investigation,” Wei Wuxian exclaimed, his face bright red. “About the – marriage!”

#mdzs #lan qiren #wei wuxian #jin guangshan #jin zixuan #jin guangyao #my fic #my fics #polyphonic

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letmewanderinyourgarden2022 · 2 years ago

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NEW CHAPTER

“So, Jane, where shall we start?”

“Gee, not sure, Jimmy. But first off, I have to tell you how surprised I was by your note. Gorey! How did you know?” The perplexed look on his face announced he didn’t know. “I mean. . .uh. . .Gorey is a particular favorite of mine.”

“Ahh. . .I had no idea,” he hesitated with a still-puzzled smile. “I. . .uh. . .quite like his work myself – wry and very dark.”

“And a bit bent. . .Yes, that’s what makes it so good! Guess it's just. . .uhm. . .a wonderful coincidence then,” I chuckled. “What is it with that blue ink? I have a beautiful fountain pen in my possession from your manager’s office – gifted, I might add, not stolen – with that same color ink.”

“Ha! Yes, I know.” He took a second before he continued. I wondered if it was to make sure I registered what he just said, which I did, or if he was thinking about what to say. “Ah. . .I use it occasionally for more. . .uh. . .personal correspondence.” I noticed a hint of uneasiness as his index finger quickly brushed his cheek.

“And legal documents, too, it seems," I joked. "It's such a rich color! I may need to start using it myself. . .Uhm. . .As I said, it was pleasantly unexpected. Just thrilled and flattered, really - that you took the time. Thank you.”

“Well then, it had the desired effects.” He smiled sweetly.

“Soooo. . .are we on any kind of schedule?”

He sat back on the bench, resting his hands in his lap. “My day is yours.” His eyes gleamed.

I thought we'd have just an hour or, maybe just maybe, two! I may not survive an hour let alone a day.

“Well, in that case-” Avoiding his gaze for my forthcoming confession, I concentrated on the path my finger traced on the table’s wood grain. “I. . uh. . .have a list I’ve been compiling of all the things I would ask you if I ever had the opportunity. I’ve been making it since- you really don’t want to know how long, trust me.” I peeked at him quickly, tingling with the realization that Jimmy Page was sitting less than two feet from me; he was flesh and blood - not a phantom. I had to return to my inspection of the tabletop.

The opportunity is now! Try not to sound like some star-struck idiot!

“Uhm. . .fortunately for you, I left it at home in my desk drawer. . .but I have memorized all the questions.”

“Ha!” He slapped the table’s edge, causing me to jump in surprise. “What an exquisitely dry sense of humor you have! I bloody well like that. Well, the opportunity has presented itself, my dear.” He spoke seriously as he leaned forward on the table, hands hugging his elbows. “But. . .before we start. . .the. . .uh. . .inquisition. . .” He cleared his throat, briefly touching a knuckle against the tip of his nose. There was an earnestness in his demeanor. “. . .I believe I. . .uhm. . .owe you an apology, Jane.”

“An apology? Whatever for?”

Another flick, this time with a finger, “Perry’s. . .umm. . .vetting might have been a bit intrusive, you know, into your private life. . .” His voice trailed off as he waited for my reaction.

“Jimmy. I understand ‘vetting.’ I expected your folks would look into my details. Honestly, you don’t need to apologize. But. . . thank you. . .again.”

Oh my. . .he is too much! Not the Dark Lord at all – yet?

He further narrowed the space between us, with a slight smirk. “Even though I’ve given you a mea culpa – that I do sincerely mean, Jane – I’ve got to pry further. I must pick your brain a bit. I’m eager to hear more about the very interesting details Perry dug up. Forgive me, but I am curious.”

I studied him for a moment. “Okay, Jimmy. You pick a little; I’ll pick a little and we’ll see where we end up. And there’s always an option not to answer. What do you think?” I questioned, lips curling into a smile.

“Sounds like a fair bargain. Let’s get to it then. One for you, one for me, and so on.” He clasped his hands together, pointing to me with steepled fingers. “You first, love.” His words rolled off his tongue sweetly as he leaned back smugly, arms tightly crossed against his chest.

I had to laugh to myself. Looks like his armor is in place! Well, then, here we go.

“Okay, I’ll start with the stupid, mundane stuff first,” I said as a sort of apology of my own – in advance. “Umm. . .let’s see. . .how did firecrackers get to be a thing at Zep concerts?”

Immediately, I experienced my first, supremely endearing, full-on Jimmy Page laugh.

“Ha, ha - ha, ha, ha! Is that actually on your list?” I nodded. “I don’t think I’ve ever been asked that! You traveled all the way to London to ask me about bangers?” A giggle erupted.

“Oh, I’m just getting started and yes, Mr. Page, it is on my list. I mean, listening to your gigs, it’s annoying as hell.”

“Yeah, yeah." He settled back to the table. "It was and certainly a challenge to the concentration, to be sure. It became more of an issue as the venues got bigger.”

“It must have been kinda terrifying at the same time.”

“Yeah, sad to say there were some moments like that over the years.” His expression softened as he considered those memories and I waited. After several seconds, he became quite animated as he spoke; arms no longer crossed; hands occasionally dancing before him to accentuate his words. “We always felt terrible for the people in the crowd. . .you know. . .who had to deal with that. But I did get hit by one – in the face no less, during our. . .uhm. . .last tour. It didn’t explode, just by luck, mind you. It flew off onto the stage. No one was physically injured but I. . . I mean, that. . .that was it, you know? I wasn’t going to come back on until they found the wanker and threw him out on his arse.” He huffed; hands now quieted. “But we finished the show. It was occasionally very disconcerting, believe me, even later when Robert and I were touring.”

Trying to imagine that scene, I muttered not quite under my breath, “Fuckers! . . .Oh!” My hand flew to cover my mouth, realizing my filter had failed. “Sorry, Jimmy. I have a ‘sailor’s mouth’ by the way. I’ve been trying to be good but that just popped out. . . sorry, sorry.”

“Ha! So do I, my girl. I suppose we no longer need to be on our best behavior, yeah?” he asked with a sultry, sly smile.

“Guess not,” I half-whispered, unable to resist matching the veiled implication of the smile and tone. Suddenly aware I may have agreed to some unknown bargain, I broke the spell. “Assholes with a testosterone rush. . . nothing worse!”

“Ha, ha. . .an overabundance of that, without a doubt.”

At that moment, I had an inkling of his journey’s magnitude. “How did you cope with all of that, I mean, going from a pretty insular world of sessions to the craziness of the Yardbirds to literally the biggest band in the freakin’ world - almost overnight? It must have been – geez – I don’t even know what word to use.”

“I believe that’s two questions in a row, Jane. It’s my turn now, but keep that one on the ready.” He deflected; his fingertip quickly brushing his cheek.

Shit! There it is again. A tic? Is he nervous? Interesting. . .

“Busted. . .Okay, it’s in reserve. Your question, sir?”

“This is a question in multiple parts. I wonder-”

“Hey, wait just a minute! That’s not fair, Mr. Page.” I protested.

“Yes, it is cuz I informed you first.” He argued.

"Pfft! You changed the rules – but, after all, you’re the rock star here. So I guess I’ll give you a pass. Exactly how many parts are in your question?” We were both enjoying the repartee.

“As I said – multiple.” He emphasized with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Your letter’s closing – Che Sera, Sera – not the familiar spelling. Marlowe?”

I nodded. “Yeah, it’s from Doctor F. Is that multi-part number one?” I couldn’t resist a tiny smart-assed comeback.

“Jane. . .come now, let me continue.” I shrugged with my own smirk. “I was struck by your middle name – Elsinore. Unusual. . .Your parents were fond of Shakespeare? Hamlet, I suspect.”

“Ding, ding, ding! Very good, Mr. Page! Yep. Anglophiles through and through.” I was pleasantly surprised at his interest but not at all by his knowledge.

“I think Elsinore suits you. It has a regal quality to it.”

“Regal?” I paused, letting the word sink in. “Hmm, I don’t think of myself that way. Ha, ha! That must be why Jane stuck. . .but. . .thanks. Uh. . .yeah, I kinda like it, too, but it wasn’t to be. Members of my family do use it sometimes when they're pissed at me, though," I laughingly admitted, glossing over his compliment.

“Hmm. Well, that's a shame. . .Such a waste. . .It's rather singular, I think. . .So, what about Jane? A very historied British name. . .Jane Grey?”

“Um, maybe. That would be unfortunate,” I snickered. “But I think it was Burden. . .Morris, I mean, or maybe Austen. My mom did tell me once, but I don't think she was sure - so maybe both.”

“Jane Morris, really?” He seemed delighted. “So, they appreciated the Pre-Raphaelites as well?”

“Yeah, and they still do, in fact. It’s another thing they passed on to me.” I mirrored his pose and sunk into my arms crossed on the tabletop. “I don’t mean to be disagreeable, but how many parts does your question have? I think we’re at four and counting.” The distance between us significantly lessened in a sly stare-down.

“Mmmm. . . You resemble her a bit, you know. I think. . .maybe it's your hair."

"Oh, really? You think so? I don't know about that. . .I don't fancy myself anyone's muse."

"Well, we must continue the conversation about your art indoctrination at some later point.” He briefly glanced away as he reached for the wine bottle and topped off our glasses. “I believe you reserved a question, my dear,” he said as he took a sip.

“Yeah, but I’m going to save that one a while longer. New question – multi-part of my own – since you changed the rules – do you hum when you play? It looks like it to me when I watch the filmed concerts.”

He smiled, chin in hand, absentmindedly running his finger slowly across his lips. He didn’t answer at first, again puzzled. “You got that from watching the film?” I nodded. “Very observant, Jane. Uhh. . .yes, I do sometimes. . .uh. . . vocalize. Another novel question.”

“Sorry, I’m a minutiae kind of person. . .”

I rattled off the remainder of my multiple-part question. We discussed the homes he had owned over the years, my Craftsman house, and his adventures in Atlanta; a bit about sessions, some of the artists he’d worked with, and those he counted as friends. Another hour plus sped by.

“Wow! So sorry I hogged the last – however long it's been.”

“No, no. I’m enjoying our conversation - so far. You’re very perceptive. . .Uh. . .My go, yeah?” I nodded in agreement. “So, your firm in Atlanta – MacGregor. . .uh. . .Hamilton and Mott – you’re the Mott?”

“Oh, more vetting questions, hmmm?” I scoffed.

“Maybe. . . maybe not. We’ll see.”

“Well, yes. MacGregor is my cousin, William. . .Bill. My mom is a MacGregor. Sandra Hamilton met Bill in law school and they formed a partnership – professionally and, uh, personally, back in the dark ages to represent all sorts of artists. I joined them in the ‘80s and brought along some record company experience and contacts, hence ‘Mott’ in the firm name. Eight of us, all totaled, have been together for many years. A close-knit little family that fights like cats and dogs. That’s it in a nutshell.”

“Unique experience - that. It was for me.”

“It’s similar with bands, for sure. I’ve seen it play out in my office many times. I’m not surprised in the least that you understand. Musical passions and all. Oh, and we have an intern, Jen, from Berklee College. . . You know Berklee?”

“Yes, I do. Boston, right?”

“Yeah. We send her the music online or on a drive and she sends it back with her evaluation, you know, as another factor in our decisions to represent. And the other plus is she’s a pretty spectacular bassist! She’ll be joining us after she graduates from law school in a few years.”

“That’s an interesting setup. Tremendous experience for the student. I would quite enjoy that myself, I think.” He suddenly rose and stepped over the bench. “Sorry, love, I need to move around a bit. Old bones, you know,” he winked.

“Old bones? Hardly, Jimmy.” I laughed.

“MacGregor happens to be a name near and dear to my heart – for several reasons. It’s been my . . .uh. . .sobriquet many times over the years, you know, in my travels,” he said stretching his arms above his head, grabbing a wrist, leaning one way and then another. His exercise completed, he walked away from me around the long side of the table.

“Really? Hah!. . .Now that you mention it, I think maybe I recall reading that somewhere.” I watched him wondering where in hell he was going, until he towered over me, his hands sliding into his jeans pockets.

“All right, Jane. Next question on your list?”

“Let’s see. . . so many to choose from. . .uhm. . .your stage clothes – they fascinate me, even back to the Yardbirds. Sorry. . .the fan girl is creeping in." We both smiled at the obvious. "Your style has always been. . .what is the word I want? . . .so perfect for you. . .no, that’s not right. . . it’s more than that. . .Anyway, did your Zep clothes come about because of the stage show – you know - projecting yourself to such a large audience, or was it more than that, more ritualistic - like the symbols, the Dazed bow section - that stuff?”

“Well, that is an interesting question,” he said matter-of-factly as he straddled the bench and sat facing me.

He was very, very close; his knee was just a hair’s breadth away from mine. It took all of my willpower not to innocently make fleeting contact.

“Yes, it was, in part, to provide a show. You remember what it was like then – well, at least around the time Zep came about – some bands wandered off into meandering jams trying to figure out how the fuck to get back to the main – everyone off in their own little trip, you know, playing to the drummer, backs to the audience like. . .uhh. . .statues with guitars for the entire gig,” he said, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “I mean, there was some brilliance, don't get me wrong, but sometimes, they were so fucking laid back, the audience fell asleep, believe me; I saw it happen. Who wants to pay good money for a gig where you’re out like a bloody light?”

“Yeah, I do remember. Happened to me before. I think ‘trip’ is the operative word.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, you may be right!” His intensity returned. “That style of playing wasn’t in our DNA, in any way, shape, or form. We wanted to be a. . .a. . .punch in the gut, you know.” Again, his hands were busy; the love for and pride of the band floated around us in the breeze. “We might lull you for a while – but it was only temporary, then bang. Uh. . .we decided early on that we would do a proper stage show. I guess it was a part of us. . .uh. . .from the bands we grew up with. And I think, well, I know, that our shows were fully experienced – the music, the visuals, the energy. The fucking floors and seats shook in the house from the sound we put out," he sighed with a satisfied smile. "At any rate, our shows certainly were a ritual. . .for us as well as the audience, you know. It allowed us to jam as we did. And in the big arenas, even if some bloke in the back couldn’t see all that well, he had an idea of what we were doing because there was a. . .a familiar framework. As far as the symbols-” he leaned against the table's edge, with the hint of a smile, “I think you might already know the answer, yeah?”

I tilted my head, scrunching into a tight-lipped smile, not sure that I wanted to tell him what I thought. “You know, I wish I could sit like that,” nodding to his position, “it looks comfortable.”

“Why can’t you? Here, give me your hand.” He reached out.

“Ha, ha, Jimmy. I’m not dressed to straddle the damned bench. Not at all lady-like considering what I’m wearing!” I stood anyway twisting to take his hand. I struggled to keep my shawl around me and gather the skirt with the other. Attempting to navigate the bench as best I could, more of me was exposed than I had intended. It did not go unnoticed.

“I wouldn’t object, Jane,” he quipped with a dangerous gleam in his eye, that I tried to ignore as I sat.

Stretching my legs in front of me, ankles crossed, I eased back with my elbows on the tabletop. “Ah, that’s so much better,” I groaned, letting my head fall back to stretch out the tension in my spine. “Mmmm, yeah, better.”

“You. . ." His quiet voice cracked slightly. His finger grazed his cheekbone as he cleared his throat. "Ah, you didn’t finish, Jane. The symbols?”

I lifted my head to look at him, still hesitant to answer. “So, is that a formal ‘your turn’ question?”

He looked at me sternly with a lifted brow, “Jane. . .”

“Okay, okay. . .I. . .umm. . .think the symbols are not just for 'a show'. They have some meaning. . . some power, but how or over what, I’m not quite sure.”

“There’s a name for it, you know.”

Okay. . .Jump in the deep end, Jane. . .

“Yes. . .I know. . .talismanic magick, right?” I was very impressed that he was wheedling information from me in a rather innocent way and astonished that he appeared to have a list of his own.

“Hmm,” he said noncommittally. “On to my question. I meant to mention before – I’m quite taken with your attire. The pieces appear to be authentic. What era are they from? Victorian, I’d say.”

“You’re really interested?”

“I think you know I appreciate vintage things, as well,” he said with a slight smirk.

“Okay, well, yes. . .the blouse is a Victorian mourning piece; the color is from a chemise. . .uhm. . .under; the skirt is vintage velvet that I made into the skirt - a poor choice for today, it seems; the shawl and boots are also Victorian from an estate sale, found years ago when you could still get the good stuff. That’s about it.”

“Mmm. . .lovely. The stockings are lovely too, particularly the lace there at the top. Seen twice in one day, I might add. Not such a poor choice, after all." He quietly said with a luscious tinge and a gleam in his eye.

“Fuck, Jimmy. I didn’t intend. . .”

“Jane, stop now," he interrupted. "You know – I wasn’t wrong when I said Elsinore suits you. Whether you know it or not, you are a regal creature – there’s an air about you - even with the sailor’s mouth. It was. . .uh. . .definitely. . .apparent from your writing.”

Hmmm. . .creature never sounded so. . . so. . .enticing. “I’m not sure what to say, so I best leave it at thank you. I think we’re veering off topic here.”

“No, we aren’t. You know, Perry and I. . .uhm.” Another brush of his fingertips on his cheek. “I. . .ahh. . .named you ‘Lady Jane’ months ago. It seemed appropriate once I read your letter. Prescient, I’d say.”

I was sure he could see all the secret thoughts let loose behind my eyes. “You guys had a nickname for me?” I looked out to the safety of the yard but took a peek at him from the corner of my eye. “No beheadings, right?” After confirming his grin, I returned my focus to the greenery. “That’s a lovely compliment, I think, and pretty good as far as nicknames go.” A pleasant silence settled over us. As I imagined the two of them together chortling over 'Lady Jane', my hunger decided to announce itself with a loud rumble, to my embarrassment.

“Oh fuck!” I whooped, doubling over in laughter that echoed around the yard. “How embarrassing! Sorry, no breakfast.”

“No, damn, I’m sorry, Jane. We are to have lunch. I just lost track of the time.” He popped up from the bench. “I’m off to see a man about a dog. . .and lunch. I’ll be back in a bit, love.”

As he walked the path back to the Inn, I couldn’t take my eyes off him and the easy, fluid way he moved - his open jacket swinging with his gait. My gaze followed him until he disappeared behind the garden door. He was truly more perfect in the flesh than in my imagination. Self-assured and cool – like he owned the world – except - when he wasn’t. I was not sure that all was as it appeared on the surface. There were the tiny hints - not because of his words, but from his ‘tells’ - that there was a fragility underneath.

Hmmm. . .He must know he does that. . .Why am I making him nervous? . . .This. . .this is. . .so much more than I anticipated. . .even when I let my imagination go to places that were pure fantasy. . .not so sure they are that now. . .Fuck, I need a cigarette!

I scoured my bag for the pack and lighter. Out of curiosity, I checked the time on my phone. It was way after four – the hours had flown by.

Light the damned cigarette, Jane!

The breeze lifted my hair across my face, so I had to turn in circles to find the best place to light the cigarette. Finally successful, I grabbed my glass from the table.

Two glasses of wine and virtually no food - not a good idea. But no help for it.

I paced back and forth trying to get the proper perspective on the events of the day – sipping and smoking, cigarette in one hand, glass and pack in the other; unaware that the shawl slipped from one shoulder along the way. Diverting for just a moment to top off my glass and turn the bottle upside down in the stone cooler, I let the thoughts pushed down into my psyche bubble up and be dealt with. Regardless of any fantasizing, I allowed myself over the years, I had never permitted the idea of a sexual attraction – well, a potentially mutual one – into the equation of this trip. It seemed totally unrealistic to even go there and fraught with disappointment.

Damn. Unless my radar is totally out of whack, there is something. OR - Maybe this is how he always is. . .seductively charming. . .No, this is not just charm or the run-of-the-mill type of flirting – there’s something more underlying the whole afternoon.

I decided to take the path of living in the moment. It was an absurdly rare position that I found myself in. I vowed to enjoy every minute of it – whatever it was or was not. Pulling the shawl around my arms, I sank down on the bench having made the decision - a good idea since I was a tad bit drunk and had the full intention of finishing off the glass in my hand. As I lit another cigarette, the garden doorbell jingled. A smiling Jimmy strode down the path to me.

“You caught me!” I called out to him as neared.

Title Art: A Young Maiden with Pan and Cupid, in a Wild Garden - Harry George Theaker, pencil and watercolor

Dante Gabriel Rossetti Pandora 1871

@firethatgrewsolow @foreverandadaydarling @laluxea @lzep @sassybouquetrunaway-universe @jimmysdragonsuit13 @jenyj89@jonesyjonesyjonesy

#jimmy page fan fiction 2022 #jimmy page #zoso #jimmy page fanfiction #silver fox jimmy #old man jimmy #led zeppelin fanfic #let me wander in your garden-chapter six #lmwing 22 #let me wander in your garden 2022

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shortprince-cos · 4 years ago

Text

Patton's Normal And Totally Not Angsty Birthday

Summary: Patton was fully expecting to spend his birthday with his stuffed animals and pictures instead of actual people, but his famILY had other secret plans.

Warnings: Crying, being alone for an extended period of time, angst, slight innuendo. Tell me if I need to add anything else!

Pairings: Platonic DRLAMP (all)

{Masterlist}

~~~~~

Patton was fully expecting to spend his birthday with his stuffed animals and pictures instead of actual people.

It wasn't a far-fetched idea, considering what had happened earlier last year. Everyone was still on their toes from the...fight.

It wasn't a fight though! It was more like a...big disagreement. That kind of maybe split everyone apart and left Patton alone...

But it was fine! Everyone just needed some alone time! Even if it had been awhile - a long while - since the incident. They just needed to think about things, and when they were ready, Patton would apologize and they would hopefully accept!

Hopefully...

Patton turned in his bed again, trying to sleep for the umpteenth time that night.

He sighed and eventually sat up, glancing at the clock. It said it was 4:16 in the morning, now it was technically January fifteenth.

Happy birthday to him.

Patton wiped the tears off his face and put on his glasses and his cat hoodie. Well, if it was his birthday, he might as well have a cupcake and make a wish. He'd probably need it, to be fully honest.

Patton meandered through the hallway, glancing at everyone's different colored doors. Everyone was probably asleep.

He remembers when it used to be just three doors in the hallway. Just Morality, Creativity, and Logic. Was it simpler then? Or were they just living in ignorance?

"No one knows you better than yourself, am I right, Tony?"

"I know big words too! Ssssssaxophone-"

"Who knows what'll happen if you don't adopt them, and they need a good home!"

"Anything he darn well pleases!"

...Maybe he was the only one not taking things seriously. They say ignorance is...better to live in, and Patton was basically swimming in it before his wake up call.

"We need actual contributions from you, now and then."

Is that why this happened? Maybe he's been ignorant of all the actual dilemmas this entire time. That's how everything went wrong! He didn't just suddenly not know what to do, he never knew what to do! He just hid it with jokes and puns and silly commentary to 'lighten the mood', but really he was just a distraction from their actual problems.

Patton hugged himself as he stood in the hallway, surrounded by the doors of his friends. Well, if they still wanted to be his friend.

Patton glanced at the dark purple door in the hall, cringing at the memories that came with it.

"Now Anxiety, if you don't want to participate, you can just sit this one out."

"Awww you poor little anxious baby!"

"And what about Anxiety, he always seems to get you down."

Patton swiped his tears away, hurriedly making his way down the hall to the staircase.

Janus didn't have a door here yet; he said he'd rather stay with the others in the hidden side of the mindscape.

Probably because of how awful they all were to him.

"Deceit, standing in the spot of one of my four best friends."

"Um, you're in my spot."

"Because Thomas gave his word, but you wouldn't know anything about words, would'ja mister?"

"I may be amphibian, but I can't say that I am fibbin'!"

God, they were so terrible to him. No wonder he doesn't like being around any of them.

Patton's hands shook as he gripped the banister at the top of the stairs, holding in his silent sobs.

All of this is his fault. He caused the rift in his famILY.

Suddenly he heard voices from downstairs. Wasn't everyone in bed? It was four in the morning, who would be up right now?

Patton wiped the tears off his face for the umpteenth time and took deep breaths, trying to steady himself.

He stalked down the top stairs slowly, trying to listen in onto what the voice was saying.

"Listen," A voice whispered. "I'm just pointing out all the possibilities."

"More like all the negabilities, seeing how all of them are negative." Another snarked.

"Just- does he even wanna see us? We basically ghosted him for months. We didn't even include him on the Nico situation. Why didn't we do that, he's the heart! He's like, the most important side for that!"

Oh. They were talking about him.

Patton debated leaving, going down there, or keep on listening before another voice spoke up.

"I doubt he would not wish to see us. If anything, I believe he would like to talk about what happened."

"Logan, we're talking about Patton here. If we talk, he'll just say he's fine when he's clearly not fine."

"That's not true." One obviously lied.

So all four of them were downstairs talking about him. Wait, isn't there supposed to be five-

"Hi Potty-cakes!" Remus suddenly shouted from behind him.

Patton shrieked in surprise, before almost tumbling down the stairs before someone caught him.

"Pat! Are you okay?!" Virgil said, slowly helping Patton to his feet.

"Y-Yeah, I'm perfect!" He said, plastering his Patton-ted fake smile.

Virgil squinted at him. "Pat, have you been crying?"

Ah. Guess the smile didn't work.

Patton noticed that everyone was crowded around him, including Janus, which meant that lying was out of the question.

"Uh- kinda?" Another smile.

Someone swore under their breath as Logan spoke up. "Patton, what are you doing awake at this hour? Don't you normally get up at seven?"

Patton stood up straightly instead of leaning on Virgil. "Oh, I just woke up and couldn't fall back asleep! What're you guys...?" Patton started as he finally looked around the room, noticing the balloons, streamers, and a banner that they had used for every birthday Patton had had.

"...doing?" He finished.

"Uh-" Roman started. "Well uh- we were kind of...surprising you with a birthday party?" He shrugged nervously.

Patton stood shocked for a moment. They were throwing him a surprise birthday party? Why? Why would they do that- weren't they mad at him? There's no way they would just suddenly not be mad at him! What was happening?!

"Pat, what's wrong?" Janus suddenly asked, putting a gloved hand on Patton's shoulder.

"I'm fine, why?" He answered on instinct.

"Padre, you're crying." Roman explained.

Patton touched his cheek, and sure enough, he was crying. "O-Oh. I guess I am."

Another hand gripped his wrist. "Pop-star, are you okay?" Virgil asked with concern and sincerity in his voice.

Patton immediately started sobbing. "No, no I'm not."

Some tentacles wrapped around him from behind - probably Remus - as a bunch of arms started surrounding him as well, securely trapping him in a hug.

Patton kept crying into someone's shoulder as multiple people kept whispering sweet nothings in his ear.

Eventually, Patton had stopped crying, just enjoying the feeling of a hug - a hug! - surrounding him.

Then, they started pulling away, leaving Patton with traces of warmth left over.

"Patton, are you alright?" Logan asked with concern in his eyes.

Patton rubbed at his eyes again and sniffled. "Y-Yeah. I'm just overwhelmed, I guess. I kinda expected to spend today alone..."

Everyone made a noise of either surprise or concern.

"Patton I..." Roman started, looking at the ground in guilt. "I didn't mean to make you feel alone, I just-" He sighed. "I talked to De-Janus, and he helped me realize that it wasn't like you were trying to make me the bad guy, you were just trying to tell me that Janus wasn't one either. So, I planned a party to apologize to you, and well, I guess the surprise is ruined."

Patton immediately hugged Roman the minute he stopped talking. Roman chuckled, but Patton could hear the tears in his voice.

"I'm- I'm so sorry I-"

"Shh, don't be." Roman comforted. "We all forgive you."

After another minute of hugging, Logan cleared his throat.

"While this moment is very touching and much needed, it is currently almost five in the morning, so I suggest we all take a nap before we get into the festivities."

Everyone made noises of agreement, when Patton interrupted.

"Um- could we-?" Patton started before cutting himself off.

"What's up, Pat?" Virgil asked.

"Uh- I-I just thought that maybe we could..."

"Cuddle on the couch?" Janus finished with a smirk on his face.

Patton nodded with blush on his face.

"Ooo sexy~"

"Remus, I swear to all things princely-" Roman started before the twins started arguing and Logan had to break them up before they could brawl in the living room.

Eventually, everyone on the was cuddled up on the couch and snuggling in one way or another, and Patton couldn't be more content.

~~~~~

Whoo! I finished on time!!!!!!!! I'm so proud of myself for writing this in one day! Though, I think it's a bit rushed, I forgive myself for that tho because it was written in one day lol

Ty for reading! I really enjoyed writing Patton angst again lol!

General Taglist: @resident-crow-goth @macademmia @theantisocialghost @foreverfangirlalways @emo--nightmaree @moxy--sanders101 @quinnthequeer @gattonero17 @trashno0dle @tranquil-space-ninja @artsy-enby09 @lugooble @sander-crossing @disney-princess-patton @sleepyysoot @hi-its-tutty @lookingforaplacetosleep @sarcasmremovedsoul @corkeecoderyt @drarrymalecsolangelo @private-snippers @girl-who-reads @emy-loves-you

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Reblogs are appreciated!💖

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfiction #patton angst #platonic drlamp #pattons birthday #ts patton #patton sanders #ts logan #ts roman #ts virgil #ts janus #ts remus

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greenteaandtattoos · 4 years ago

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Sunsets and Stitches: A Forest Fire Siblings One-Shot

“Hey, Oscar!”

The hazel-eyed boy looked up as his name was called. He had been washing some dishes after the rations for the refugees had gone out. He recognized the voice. He spotted a blonde-bushy-haired girl striding over to where he stood. It was Yang. Even though it had been nearly a week since team RWBY - and Jaune - had returned to Remnant and reunited with everyone in Vacuo, Oscar couldn’t help the stab of relief in his chest at the sight of her.

Sometimes, he woke up in the morning in a panic, fear that their heart-felt reunion had been only a dream. Especially when it came to a certain red-clad girl… The feeling of Ruby’s arms around him, embracing him tightly, was a feeling so foreign yet so unforgettable at the same time.

“Oscar.” Oscar let out a small huff as a voice reverberated in his head, pulling him from the memory. Ozpin had been interrupting his thoughts and daydreams about Ruby every chance he got, scolding him about getting distracted in a time of war.

“Hey, Yang,” Oscar greeted, turning his attention to her as she approached. “What can I do for you?” Yang towered over him by a few feet, her wavy hair pulled up into a ponytail and cascading down her back like a field of wheat in the wind, glowing gold in the setting sun’s light. Her lavender eyes were unusually neutral, a change from the usual fiery determination that blazed in them. Oscar frowned and even Ozpin noticed something was amiss with his former student, concern pulsing from the wizard.

“It seems like you have a problem,” she informed him knowingly. Oscar felt his face redden and anxiety wormed its way into his stomach. Did she know? Yang was Ruby’s older sister, and was very protective of her. If she found out about his crush on her baby sister… He gulped.

Oz agreed, it might not turn out well. Especially with Yang’s very… vocal feelings towards him. She had forgiven him for hiding his secrets and then abandoning them, but she was still wary of the ages-old wizard, and she wasn’t the best at keeping her emotions to herself.

Yang raised a hand, and Oscar automatically tensed. However, her hand came to rest gently atop his head. Mischief glinted in her eyes, and a smile spread across her face.

“Your hair is a mess!” she exclaimed, ruffling his thick chocolate locks. “Have you ever grown out your hair before?” Oscar blinked, allowing himself to process what was going on, then let out an audible breath of relief. Ozpin hummed in amusement.

He played off his breath with a laugh. “No, never.” He raised a hand and ran it through his hair. He had decided to try and grow out his hair once they had gotten to Vacuo. Ren and Nora had supported his idea, the former giving tips on how to wash it and brush it to keep it from getting tangled. He hadn’t been doing so well, though. The wind blew sand into it on a daily basis and the sun dried it out, bleaching it to a pale brown.

Yang pulled her hand away and jabbed a thumb at her hair. “Well, lucky for you, I have. C’mon, let’s do something about this travesty.” She began to lead the way into the cool shade of the dorms, where they had all been staying. Once she had gotten Oscar comfy in a chair, she began to ruffle through some drawers and duffle bags.

He watched curiously as she pulled out a brush, some hair ties, and some other hair products. “I feel the need to warn you,” Ozpin started, his voice light with amusement, “That Ms. Xiao Long takes hair care very seriously.” Oscar smiled nervously as the said huntress dropped everything onto the desk in front of him and began arranging them.

“What does that mean?” Oscar inquired. “It means that you should probably do exactly what she tells you to in regards to your hair,” was his reply.

“Alright, kiddo,” Yang said, stretching her arms above her head and cracking her fingers. “Let’s get this mess fixed.”

Luckily, there was a mirror in front of him, so he watched anxiously as she picked up a hair brush and began to brush it through his locks. To his surprise, she was very gentle, starting at the ends, brushing through them with practiced expertise. He hissed lightly as the bristles came into contact with a particularly stubborn knot.

“Sorry,” she grunted. “The desert has really done a number to your hair.” Oscar scratched at one hand. “I should probably have asked for some hair tips before now, huh” he joked. Yang snorted. “I think we were all worried about more... pressing issues back then.”

Oscar instinctively raised his hand to run it through his hair - a habit he did whenever he was nervous or embarrassed - only for Ozpin’s warning to come too late and he felt the sting as Yang slapped his hand down.

“Ow!” he yelped quietly. “Hands down!” Yang barked. “Do you want this to be as painless as I can make it, or not?” Oscar rubbed his hand. “Sorry, mom,” he apologized dryly. Yang hmphed and continued with her work, her mouth twisting in concentration.

“It might be best to just rest your hands,” Ozpin suggested. “Easy for you to say,” Oscar grumbled internally. Oscar’s uncomfortableness with physical contact was well-known to the others, and he appreciated Yang’s slow strokes and gentle hold, no doubt to try and put him at ease. However, he often struggled to keep himself still, finding too much energy within himself. Holding Long Memory helped calm him, but he didn’t have it with him now. He was trapped between a desk and a dragon.

He elected to rest one hand on the desk, listlessly playing with the cracks in the wood, and dropped one hand to his shirt. He rubbed his thumb on the embroidered rose that he had asked Coco to stitch onto the hem. He traced the soft curve of the petals and the long stem as Yang worked.

Yang’s eyes glanced down to where his hand had fallen, her gaze zeroing in on the rose. Her lips thinned. “I don’t think I’ve gotten to tell you that I like your outfit yet,” she said, uncharacteristically cool and controlled.

Oh, shit, Oscar thought. Ozpin agreed, though chided him for his language as he did. “It seems Ms. Xiao-Long has exercised her powers of observation,” he commented. “This might not end well.”

“Uh, thanks,” Oscar said nervously. Ozpin’s comments did not help. “Coco made it.”

The upperclassman had offered to make Emerald, Ren, Nora, and him new clothes. He remembered going up to her in private and asking for the rose, his stomach as knotty as his hair. She had agreed, and even with her sunglasses keeping her expression hidden from him, he had heard the pity in her voice and the burn of her stare on his back as he left the room.

“It suits you.” Yang’s complement dragged his attention back to the present. There was a curtness in her voice that made Oscar want to squirm. He began to trace the cracks in the wooden desk with anxious speed. “Yang, I—”

She paused, lifting the brush ever so slightly from his head. “How far along is the merge?” Yang asked suddenly. Oscar’s head drooped slightly. “Far enough,” he said. Yang was silent for a moment, then, “I see.”

Oscar squirmed in his seat in the awkward silence, and Yang placed a hand on his shoulder to still him. “But I’m still me,” he burst out. “I promised that I would do as much good as I could with the time I had left, and I meant it.” Yang’s grip on his shoulder tightened, but not enough to hurt. “And how much good will you do to my sister when you’re gone and Oz is all that is left?” she asked. “Will it be good when you’ve gone and left her with a broken heart?” Oscar wilted. She knew.

“It is for this reason that I told you to find a way to dispel your crush,” Oz pointed out, backing Yang’s argument. Oscar felt anger bubble up in his chest. “No, you told me to forget it because it made you feel awkward,” Oscar retorted. “Perhaps, but—”

Yang, who had seemingly been waiting for an answer, realized that he was conversing with Ozpin and resumed brushing, which interrupted the two as Oscar jerked his focus back to her. Right now, it was more important that he make her understand, rather than Ozpin. He had argued with over this topic many times before with him, and it always ended the same.

“Yang, I would never hurt Ruby,” he promised, putting as much sincerity in his voice as he could. “I-I really…” He paused, then took a deep breath, remembering Coco’s and Nora’s advice. “Go slow, but be honest and forthright,” they had said. So, that’s what he would do.

“I care about her,” he admitted, finally sharing his secret. “I would never do anything to hurt her.” He felt the bristles of the brush prick at his scalp. “I know,” Yang said, the bite in her voice softening. “But you don’t really have a choice. Eventually, you will merge with Oz and—”

“Oz doesn’t have anything to do with this!” Oscar burst out. Yang froze, eyes wide. “I’m the one who cares about Ruby, not Oz,” he continued forcefully. “I’ve cut my life short for him, for the world, but I deserve to be able to do something for myself while I still have the chance… don’t I?” Yang stared at him with narrowed eyes, the brush frozen amidst chocolate tangles. She seemed to contemplate his words.

“But does my sister deserve to be left broken when the inevitable finally occurs?” she finally asked after a moment. Oscar closed his eyes, and ignored Ozpin’s attempts to give his input on the matter.

“Ruby deserves happiness and peace,” he said. He crossed his hands and rested them against his heart. Even months after the torture, the area where Salem had struck him with her magic was still sensitive to the touch. “I just want to help her achieve that.”

Even with his eyes closed, he could feel Yang watching him intently through the mirror. “You and me both, kid,” Yang said. “That’s all our mom wanted for us.” Oscar’s eyes shot open at the mention of their mother, Summer Rose. Ozpin went silent at the mention of his former silver-eyed student. Blake had shared the secret of the Hound with the others after they reunited at Schnee Manor back at Atlas, and Ozpin had realized fairly quickly what happened to his former pupil.

Yang let out a small breath. “Since we seem to be spilling secrets today, I might as well share one.” Oscar turned his head to glance at her curiously, only for her hand to stop it and move it back to where it was. She began brushing his hair again.

“I can’t tell you for sure why our mother left to face Salem like she did,” she started, her voice twisting with emotion. “But, I can give you my best guess.” Oscar felt Ozpin stiffen. “It was because of Ruby.” Oscar had a feeling that was going to be the answer, but he stayed silent, allowing Yang to continue. This was her secret to share.

“Back then, Salem was still hunting down and killing silver-eyed warriors, not… what she’s doing with them now. I think… I think mom got scared because Ruby was born with silver eyes, and knew that Salem would eventually come for her.”

Ozpin remained silent, but Oscar could feel him emanating complex emotions, mixing with his own. Oscar couldn’t imagine how he was feeling, knowing that his former student had been subjected to a fate worse than death at the hands of Salem, and he hadn’t been able to do anything.

“And so, she decided to strike first, to try to get rid of the danger to her family. But whatever her plan was, it fell through and she…” she trailed off.

Sympathy surged through Oscar, and finally got a good understanding as to why Yang was so adamant with her feelings toward Oscar’s crush on Ruby. She doesn’t want Ruby to feel the pain of a loved one disappearing again.

Talking wasn’t his strongest suit, but he would be damned if he didn’t find a way to express himself to Yang. “Oscar, wait,” Ozpin warned. “This isn’t a good idea.” Oscar took a deep breath. “You’re wrong,” he told the wizard firmly. “This may not seem like a good idea to you, but it’s what’s best for me.”

He met her gaze through the mirror. Her eyes glistened, though there were no tears.

“I understand that you want to protect Ruby from experiencing such pain ever again. But so do I,” he told her, conviction strong in his voice. “I promise you, merge or not, I will help protect her. But, she isn’t some helpless girl, either. She knows that the merge will happen.” He paused, thinking back to her . “But she has never seen me as Ozpin,” he continued. “She chose to be my friend, despite my circumstances, just as I chose to remain by her side.”

Yang quirked a brow at his response, and for a moment, Oscar feared that he angered her. Then, she burst out laughing. “Stay friends with you, eh?” Oscar frowned, confused by her reaction. “What, you don’t think we should even be friends?” Anxiety and anger fluttered in his chest. Wanting to protect Ruby from heartbreak by keeping him from admitting his feelings towards her was one thing, but to disapprove of her friendship with him entirely?

Yang coughed, her laughter dying down. “No, no. If only you two would remain just friends.” She put the brush down on the desk and picked up a hair tie, bright gold in color. “But, you have a point. Your life is your own, and my sister isn’t a baby anymore, not like she was when mom disappeared. Each of you can make your own choices.”

Though pleased that Yang’s disapproval had lessened somewhat, her words still confused him. “Why did you laugh at the notion that she wants to stay friends with me?” he inquired. “Oh, Oscar,” Ozpin sighed. “And here I thought Ms. Rose was the clueless one when it came to people.” Oscar’s brow furrowed. “Hey,” he scoffed indignantly.

Suddenly, Yang took a handful of his hair, gripping it hard enough that he yelped. “Really, Oscar,” she said. “Who knew that the one person you misjudge is the one person you like?” Oscar blinked at the connotations. “I-I misjudged that she wants to be friends with me? Has she said something? Does she not want to be friends with me anymore?” He began to fret. Had he done something? Said something? Was he too similar to Ozpin?

Yang pulled and bunched up his hair into a loose ponytail. “You said it yourself,” she said. “She can make her own choices. Why don’t you ask her?” As Oscar fretted to himself, she slipped the ponytail around the base of the ponytail, then wrapped it around his hair three times, until it stood up on its own. Yang stepped back. “All done!”

Momentarily distracted from his worries, Oscar instantly reached back to feel it. It was a small ponytail, but it held firm. He checked it out in the mirror. The golden hair tie stood out stark against his dark hair. It seemed to blaze as rays of sunlight struck it, like a ring of golden fire, from where they filtered through the window to his right as the sun sank further below the dunes. “Not a bad look for you,” Ozpin commented.

Oscar turned to Yang. “Thanks… for everything.” Yang put a hand on her hips, a grateful smile on her face. “No problem. I think we both needed it.” Oscar nodded. A relief had lifted from his chest, though worry over Ruby’s thoughts on their friendship still bubbled in his stomach.

Yang seemed to notice and patted his shoulder. “Hey, how I feel about your feelings toward my sister doesn’t mean anything, in the long run. As you said, she can make her own choices. If you want to know how she feels, ask her.” Oscar put his hands to his chest, clutching his vest, feeling the cloth rub against the tender, patched skin underneath, and looked out the window. The sun-baked sand turned tawny under the ember-glow of sunset, the desert sky clear and endless.

He turned back to her. “I think I will.” Yang’s body language still told him that she was worried about the situation and the potential consequences, but the familiar lavender fire had returned in her eyes. “That’s the spirit, pipsqueak. You do what feels right to you.” She patted his head again.

Ozpin sighed. “I really don’t think this is a good idea, but I have my doubts that you’ll heed my advice on this matter anymore.” Oscar puffed out his chest. “I can’t ignore that you’re a part of me,” he replied. “But for now, my life is what is ahead of me.”

#rwby #Oscar Pine #yang xiao long #forest fire siblings #rosegarden #ozpin #rwby one-shot #yang being overprotective #remember that exciting thing I had planned?#this is it #enjoy #i worked really hard on it #ruby rose

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maxineswritingcenter · 4 years ago

Text

You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 22

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As I parked in the driveway, I tried to think of a way to talk to Uncle Noah. It really just came down to my approach. And if he pulls a gun on me or not. I don’t believe that he would pull a gun on me just from the texts and voicemails I was getting.

Getting out of the car was the next part of my plan. Alright, getting out of the car... Right now... Getting out... Of the car... Now.

Finally, I willed myself out of the car and walked up the driveway to the front door. Should I knock or ring the doorbell? No, walking in seemed more casual, I need to be formal. Or maybe it would be better to walk in-

The front door opening interrupted my inner monologue. Uncle Noah stood in the doorway. He was in uniform, looking like he was heading into the station. We stared at each other for a while, not sure how to go forward with this. Maybe I should just start speaking? Yeah, because that worked out so well before.

“Hey, uh... I just wanted to say...” My voice cut out before I could say what I wanted. The worst part was that he just kept staring at me, “Um, I wanted to say that I’m sorry for what happened at the station and I’m sorry for... What I am-”

I was cut off by Uncle Noah pulling me into his arms and hugging me tightly. After the shock subsided, I hugged him back, gripping onto his shirt to ground myself. He was hugging me just like he would before he saw me as a werewolf.

“Don’t ever apologize for who you are, sweetheart.” His voice was strained, “Nothing that happened was your fault. I know you would never do anything to hurt anyone of your own volition.” He kissed the top of my head, pulling away and looking me in the eyes.

“You aren’t scared of me?” My voice was trembling.

“What? No, no, no. I’m not scared of you. I’m just worried about you. You’re still (Y/N).” He pushed some hair out of my face, wiping away some tears as well. Uncle Noah was someone who loved no matter what. All he wanted was for his loved ones to be safe and happy and that was what I loved so much about him.

“We’re gonna figure this out. Being a...a”

“A werewolf.”

“Being a werewolf isn’t easy and we’re gonna figure out how it happened.” I smiled at him weakly.

“There’s a lot I need to tell you.”

We went inside, sitting in the living room. I was finally able to reveal everything and it was all from my memory. I could finally tell my story the way I remembered it. Uncle Noah listened to all of it, even if he didn’t understand all of it, he still listened. At the end, he sat back against the couch and blew out air.

“That... That’s a lot, kid.” I nodded, sitting back beside him. He sat back up again when his phone started going off.

“Crap.” He said, looking at the caller ID, “I gotta go to work.” He stood up, looking back at me, “You staying here tonight?”

“Yeah, I’m making dinner.”

“Great, I’ll see you tonight, maybe, hopefully.” He opened his phone and made his way out.

Stiles and I were in the kitchen making dinner. It wasn’t often that the Stilinski’s had a home cooked meal, with Uncle Noah being at the station, it was quick or microwave meals that saved dinner. But tonight it was going to be lasagna, I had noticed that Stiles asked for a lot of pasta dishes. Probably for the carbs since he played lacrosse and had the metabolism of a giant. The kid could eat. As I was pulling the lasagna out of the oven, the doorbell rang.

“That’s Derek.” I smiled, taking off the oven mitts and setting them on the counter, “Could you get the door?” Stiles took a deep breath but walked to the door and opened it. Derek stood there in nicer attire than usual. He had swapped out the leather jacket for a nice burgundy sweater, he had flowers in his hand. So I’m assuming when he saw Stiles, he was very confused.

“Aw, you shouldn’t have.” Stiles fake-gushed. Derek’s jaw clenched and his brow furrowed.

“(Y/N).” He called. Looking out at him, I grinned and wiped my hands on the apron I was wearing.

“Hey!” I said cheerfully, taking the flowers. Roses and baby’s-breath, “How lovely.” I inhaled the sweet scent, ushering Derek inside.

“(Y/N), can I speak with you privately?” Derek said through his teeth. After putting the flowers in a vase, I raised an eyebrow at him.

“Yes~?” I fluttered my eyelashes at him.

He titled his head to the side, “When you invited me to dinner at your house, I thought we would be eating. Alone.”

I smiled, “Why would I invite you over to my house when there’s a sixteen year old who actively lives here?” I poked his chest, “You were supposed to make the romantic dinner, remember?”

“That’s a little deceiving, isn’t it?”

“Oh?” I wiggled my eyebrows, “Were you expecting something a little spicier than lasagna?”

Derek gave me a sly smile, “Maybe-”

“Okay, enough of whatever you guys are doing.” Stiles butted in, “I’m hungry so can we eat now?” I was about to answer when the door opened. All of our eyes widened, and so did Uncle Noah’s.

“Hey...” Stiles said casually, “Thought you uh... weren’t gonna be home for dinner.”

“I uh, I asked for the night off so we could have dinner together as a family.” He looked at Derek, then me, then Derek again, “Derek, are you uh... Like her?”

“A werewolf? Yes, sir.”

“Oh, oh, okay.” Uncle Noah smiled a little, “That’s okay. I fully support being werewolves. Just as long as you’re safe.” He said this awkwardly, but very sincerely.

“So food’s done.” I smiled.

The dinner was kind of awkward, just a little tense. An ex con eats dinner with the sheriff? It was like the start a of very bad joke. But everything went over well and now it was just Derek and I in my room - with the door open per Uncle Noah’s request- playing music softly and cuddling on the bed. My head was on his chest playing with his fingers. Derek had one arm around me, his fingertips dipping under my shirt hem.

“I love this.” I hummed, “I never want it to end.” I looked up at him, “I had a question.”

“Yes?” He kissed the top of my head.

“When all of this started... Why were you so distant with me? Why wouldn’t you tell me about us knowing each other when I came to your house.”

“Well,” He shifted so he sat up a little on the pillows, “I was respecting your father’s wishes.”

“As if.” I smirked.

He chuckled, “You’re right.” He looked down at me, “But I thought it would hurt more for you if I expected something from you that you couldn’t give me.” He held my hand that was fiddling with his, bringing it up to his lips, “Those times when you were wanting to get close to me, I wanted to tell you. I wanted to try and break the spell but I didn’t know if I could or even if it would work.”

“Derek...You suffered alone, I’m so sorry.” I ran my fingertips over his cheek. He nuzzled his cheek into my hand.

“I suppose, but it was like I got to meet you for the first time. Fall in love with you.” It was strange seeing this side of him. His heart was open and he was telling me everything.

“You love me, huh?” I said, “Even with how stubborn I am?”

He smiled, “Even with how stubborn you are. You never gave up on me. Ever.”

Leaning forward, I pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, “I love you too.” There was love in his eyes, but there was something else. Something I couldn’t ignore, even though the nagging feeling in my stomach was telling me it was going to ruin the moment.

“What is it?” I sighed, “Just tell me.”

“I can’t hide anything from you, can I?”

“After last night? Definitely not.”

“The alpha pack is here.” He paused and breathed out, “And I was hoping you would go to Scotland until this all blows over.” I sat up and stared down at him.

“You want me to go to Scotland. With Michael. To the people who probably agreed to have my memories taken away. While you fight the alphas by yourself?” I scoffed, “Yeah, fat chance.” I got out of bed. Derek sighed, leaning his head back.

“(Y/N), you don’t understand-”

“I understand everything perfectly actually. For the first time in six years, I can see everything. I remember the alpha pack and I remember what they did to Paige.” I stood in front of the bed and looked down at him, “I’m an alpha with two alpha sparks and I can fight just as well as you can...If a little out of practice.”

Derek sat up, “I know, that’s why I want you to go. You’re an easy target to take the alpha sparks from and you know how they will take it.” I crossed my arms over my chest, tapping my foot on the floor. He was right, as much as I hate to admit it.

“I know I’m right.” Derek said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed to face me.

“Hey! Get out of my head.”

Derek pried my arms from their crossed position and held my hands, “I know you want to be here to protect your people. I do too. But I would never forgive myself if they took you away from me, away from your uncle, away from Stiles.” He stood up and pulled me into his arms.

“I can’t lose you.”

“And I can’t lose you either.” My breath was shaky.

“You won’t.”

“You can’t promise me that. You have been on death’s door so many times, it’s only a matter of time before he answers.”

Derek pressed a kiss to my forehead, “I’m not alone anymore. I’m stronger than ever.” I knew that he would keep those I loved safe. But he had the hero complex, willing to do what was right no matter the cost.

“Fine. But if I feel something happen, I’m on the next flight back and I’m gonna kick your ass.” I swallowed thickly, “And if you’re dead... I’m bringing you back and kicking your ass.”

“I know you will.” He gave me a small smile.

I had barely been out of Beacon Hills before. Every once in a while there was an away game for lacrosse, but never out of state. I had never even been to the airport. Airports were weird. You get there like four hours early, sit for hours, then you get in a metal tube that flies in the sky.

Stiles and I were sitting at the end of a row of chairs, Uncle Noah and Michael were talking across the room. Michael had dyed his blond hair dark brown and had been wearing brown contacts to disguise himself from getting caught by any cops who were still looking for him.

"What do you think they're talking about?" I leaned over and whispered into Stiles’ ear. This was really just a way of getting him to talk to me. Stiles had been quiet the whole ride to the airport.

“Probably his shitty dye job.” He said, hanging one arm over the back of his seat.

I chuckled, resting my head on his shoulder, looking around. Derek hadn’t come with us to the airport. He thought it would draw attention to me and the alpha pack would follow. But it didn’t hurt any less. I knew that he was right. I would have liked to have seen him before I left though.

“Are you mad at me?”

“No..” He sighed, “Last thing I need is to lose you to a bunch of werewolves with a god complex killing you for your alpha mojo.”

“Alpha sparks. Plural.”

“Yeah yeah. Just...” He looked down at him, “Let me know when you’re coming back.”

“Hey, I’ll Skype you as much as I can.”

NOAH

After feeling more comfortable talking with Michael, Noah had agreed to let Michael escort (Y/N) to Scotland as a part of the Lunar Circle. Michael had been nervous the entire time, hadn’t looked him in the eyes. Michael was rubbing the back of his neck.

Noah narrowed his eyes at him, “What is it, you got somethin’ you’re not telling me?”

“N-No. I’ve told you everything.” His voice was shaking.

"Slow down, breathe." Noah held a hand out.

Michael sighed, running a hand through his hair, “I just want her to trust me and I don’t want to hurt her again. I need to make up for all the crap that I did, I gotta make things right.”

Noah nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. While he would rather throw Michael in a jail and leave him there to rot, he didn’t understand the entire situation with mind control and werewolves, so he figured that (Y/N) could handle herself.

“Listen, kid, she is gonna be a mess for the next few days. Since everything happened and all the responsibility on her shoulders, she hasn’t had time to properly mourn her parents. She won’t process that everyone is practically a world away until later - Derek and Stiles especially.” He looked over at (Y/N) and Stiles. Those were his kids. And he hated that one of them was going to be out of his sight and reach for however long. But at least she would be safe, “Her and Derek have their connection thing. But her and Stiles? They... I’ve never seen two kids love and care about each other so much in my entire life. With her powers, the safest thing for you and her would be to take her to a safe place and lock her up for the night. She might as well be a ticking time bomb.

“Yes, sir.”

(Y/N)

"Now boarding all passengers on flight two-nine-o-six to Edinburgh International." A woman’s voice called over the intercom. Michael and Uncle Noah came back over as I stood up and grabbed my carry on bag.

“Well, that’s us-” I was cut off by a bone crushing hug from Stiles. And here comes the tears. Wrapping my arms tightly around him, I breathed out then pressed my lips tightly together.

“I love you.” He said into my shoulder.

“I love you too.” I sniffled and pulled away, rubbing the top of his head where his hair was starting to grow out from his buzz cut. Uncle Noah almost had to pry Stiles off to get to me then pulling me into his own arms.

“I just want you to know that I’m proud of you.” He kissed the side of my head, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” I pulled away, looking around, probably just to make myself even more sad. Derek wasn’t gonna come.

Michael led me onto the plane and to my surprise, the Lunar Circle had paid for first class tickets. I would hope so since this was a thirteen hours flight with two stops. I put my headphones in and looked out the window. We were off to some new and possibly magical place - the ancestral homeland - to meet with a bunch of people that I kind of wanted to give a piece of my mind.

I would rather be taking this trip with Derek where it would be atleast a little romantic but instead I was running from some crazy alphas. I wanted to start my life with him, a life that was significantly less crazy than it was now. I wanted to start a family. I thought Derek did too, he came from a large family.

Maybe that plan was already in motion.

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Read part 23 here!

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#derek hale x reader #derek hale fic #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf fic

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steves-on-a-plane · 4 years ago

Text

Sincere Apology

Words: 1151 Pairing: Luke Skywalker x Reader Summary: Luke and Reader were in a speeder bike accident and the former moisture farm tries his best to apologize. After several attempts he come up with something that might finally win back Reader’s favor. A/N: Inspired by this post by @make-me-imagine!

“[Y/N], how many times do I have to say that I’m sorry before you’ll forgive me?” Luke Skywalker asked as he chased after you. You didn’t answer him. Instead, you continued on your way to deliver the data pens in your hands to Leia. While you were walking slightly faster than your normal pace, it was hardly considered a brisk walk. Luke was his best trying to keep up with you. His boots thumped against the metal grates on the floor as he stomped along.

“I already said forget about it Skywalker.” You answered without stopping or looking over your shoulder.

“That’s not the same things as saying you’ve forgiven me!” Luke huffed. You stepped to the side, avoiding a collision with Han Solo who had appeared from an offshoot corridor. Luke was not as agile and collided shoulder first into his friend’s chest.

“Easy there, Farm Boy!” Han said, gripping Luke by the shoulders. “What’s got you so fired up this early?”

“It’s [Y/N].” Luke sighed. He gestured impatiently behind Han, but when the smuggler turned to look, you were long gone. “Leia sent us out on a scouting mission late last night. [Y/N] doesn’t know how to drive a speeder bike, they don’t have much use for them on her home planet, so we just took the one and I…”

“Wait a minute.” Han began to laugh. It was joyous chuckle that starkly contrasted his usual sarcastic scoff. “Are you the one who crashed that Speeder bike? The brass isn’t too happy about that...”

“It was an older bike.” Luke answered defensively. “It’s not like it was a new one! Besides, I’ve already offered to help repair it.”

“The bike I saw was pretty banged up.” Han shook his head, no longer laughing. “You’re lucky neither one of you were hurt.”

“Now you sound like [Y/N].” Luke pouted.

“you’re going to have to do something big to make it up to her.” Han said.

“Yeah.” Luke sighed in agreement. “If you think of anything, let me know.”

Hours later, you had finished the work you’d been assigned. Work which included a mission report detailing exactly what happened to the unsalvageable speeder bike Luke had ruined. It had been a long day of paperwork and data logging. You were ready to hit the sonic and then retire to bed wearing one of your few remaining home planet luxuries, silk pajamas. Then there was a knock on your dorm door.

“[Y/N], it’s Luke.” He told you.

“What do you want Skywalker?” You snapped before tapping the door control and watching the door panel slide open.

“I’m here to apologize…again.” Luke explained.

“I already said…”

“Let me make it up to you please!” He begged.

“Alright.” You sighed. “But this better be quick.”

“Uh, it won’t be.” He apologized. “But it will be worth it. Trust me.” You followed Luke through the Rebellion Base to outside. He led you down a small path less than a mile long. The same one you’d gone down the night before. At the end of the path was a makeshift corral of sorts that was used to house the speeder bikes.

“Because you didn’t learn your lesson the first time?” You asked him. “Who the heck did you convince to let you borrow another speeder bike immediately after you trashed the last one.”

“Well…” Luke rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I didn’t exactly get permission…”

“So we’re here to steal and ruin a seeder bike? I skipped my sonic for this?” You shook your head.

“What? No! I thought ya’ know, maybe since you don’t have a speeder bike license, I could show you how to drive one so that next time we go on a mission together you can drive.” He explained.

“Why would you do that?” You asked suspiciously.

“Because I know it would make you feel more secure to be able to drive the speeder when we go out and I’m hoping it will make you less mad at me. I can’t stand the idea of you not talking to me for another day.”

“Speeder bike lessons, huh?” You considered the idea.

“I brought you a helmet.” He offered out a repurposed biker trooper helmet that someone had painted rebellion orange.

“Alright, but if we crash, you’re taking all the blame.” You insisted before accepting the helmet and his apology.

“[Y/N], Turn! Turn! Turn!” Luke shouted over the rumbled of the speeder bike. There was no reason for him to worry though, you’d already begun to make the turn and avoided the tree in your way. You’d been training together for two weeks now and it turned out the farm boy was not a bad teacher. He also wasn’t too bad at driving the speeder bike either, when he wasn’t distracted.

“Same time tomorrow?” You asked, parking the bike make in its corral.

“Sure.” Luke beamed. You walked together up the path to the rebel base. “Goodnight, [Y/N]. See you tomorrow!”

“See you tomorrow, Farm Boy.” You smiled back. As you and Luke went your separate ways down two corridors. You walked towards your dorm with your speeder helmet in hand.

“Does the quarter master know you’ve got that helmet? You know you’re not supposed to take those things to your private quarters.” You turned slowly on your heels to see who had just caught you red handed. It was Han Solo. “Oh Han, it’s only you.” You sighed with relief.

“Yeah, only me.” He repeated gruffly. “You and Luke just come back from your secret rendezvous?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it that.” You answered.

“Well, if it is supposed to be a secret, it won’t stay that way for very long.” Han said. “The kid has been talking me and Chewy’s ears off about how much he looks forward to meeting with you every night. I think he’s got a thing for you.”

“I-what? Why are you telling me these?” You asked him. Han shrugged.

“I want to see how things play out.” He smirked. “I figure the kid’s never gonna make a move on his own so…”

“So you thought you would push things along.” You nodded, now understanding.

“Hey it’s a win, win for me.” Han explained. “If you feel the same way about him, I get to take all the credit for nudging you in the right direction and if you don’t, I get some entertainment out of the blow up.”

“What makes you think he has feelings for me anyway?” You asked.

“For starters it only takes about a week to learn how to operate a speeder bike and you two have been sneaking off for about three now. That means that either you’re the worst driver in the galaxy or he’s finding an excuse to spend time with you. Think about it.” Han shrugged again before continuing what he was doing before bumping into you.

#Luke Skywalker #Luke Skywalker x Reader #Luke Skywalker Reader Insert #Luke Skywalker Imagine

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xpao-bearx · 4 years ago

Text

《This story series is also on my AO3 acc @ Paoloca》

SUMMARY: The bachelors of Selphia conjure up a plan to decide who truly deserves the beautiful princess' heart...if Frey can only choose one of them, that is.

PAIRINGS: Frey x Vishnal, Frey x Kiel, Frey x Doug, Frey x Arthur, Frey x Dylas, Frey x Leon (Polyamorous Ships)

RATING: Mature/18+/Romance & Smut. Please bear these in mind if you are uncomfortable and do NOT report!

NOTE: I have been an avid fan and lover of the Rune Factory series for a looong fooken time now and with RF 5 coming up (who else can't wait?!?!) along with my bursting inspiration, I decided to do something a lil special~ 💖

This story is actually one I wrote--or at least TRIED to write as I didn't finish it--many years ago on my old Wattpad acc (I have a new one now). As such, I'm taking the basic plotline from the original idea I had and simply making it a bit better especially now that I'm older + more mature (pfft yeah sure "mAtUrE" xD).

I sincerely and deeply love ALL of the amazing bachelors on RF 4 and as someone who absolutely ✨A D O R E S✨ reverse harems, I really *personally* don't think that Frey has to choose! And so, here's a naughty + sweet story that'll kinda just delve into my--and I'm sure others'--fantasy ;)

I hope ya lovelies will enjoy this story series and your wonderful support is always very much appreciated! 🥺💕💕 Also, feel free to fangirl/fanboy with me anytime~

P.S. Please forgive mah pathetic ass in advance if I ever portray any of the characters wrong, I promise to do my best!!

"The Princess' Harem"

Part 1: The Game

☆ALL CREDIT GOES TO THE TALENTED ARTIST☆

Summer 1, the dawn of a sweltering season. But most of all...

Beach Day!

Ah, yes, a most wonderful holiday to take a dip in the refreshing water and don the most attractive swimsuits that perfectly hugged one's form! And while it was understandable for the gentlemen to gawk and admire the lovely ladies, it seemed that all the bachelors of Selphia were completely ensnared by one warrior princess in particular...

Frey's tinkly laughter carried in the air as she happily swam around in the lake with the other girls. It was certainly a gorgeous day, yet none could quite rival the turquoise haired beauty's radiant smile.

"Haa... The princess is SO beautiful~" Vishnal sighed dreamily, his violet eyes turning into hearts.

"A goddess among mere mortals!" Kiel piped up cutely.

"You guys are so lame! But, uh... Y-Yeah, I agree, I guess." Doug conceded, face flushing as scarlet as his hair.

"I am a man, after all. Therefore, I must say I agree as well." Arthur cleared his throat, propping his glasses.

"You are all perverts..." Dylas grumbled, though he couldn't help but shyly sneak a peek at Frey.

"My, my~ You're such a bad liar, horsie. Calling us perverts when you, yourself, are one~" Leon chuckled, smirking.

"Who're ya calling horsie?!" Dylas snapped, but couldn't start an argument when all of them heard a splash and saw Frey emerge onto shore.

"Princess!" Vishnal beamed, not wasting a single second as he dashed towards her with a towel much like an excited puppy. "Are you done swimming?"

Frey gratefully took the towel, wiping her drenching body with it. "Yes, I am! And once I change into my clothes, I'm going to be checking the requests."

"You're ever so diligent, Frey. I truly admire that about you." Arthur smiled as he and the rest of the boys approached their beloved girlfriend. Arthur's glasses then flashed as the sun reflected on them, and he quickly grabbed that splendid opportunity for his gaze to drop and hyperfocus on Frey's nearly naked body. He barely managed to suppress it as he almost shamelessly licked his lips, fully taking in and very much appreciating her wet and fit physique.

"Oh, it's nothing! I'm only doing my duties." Frey giggled, embarrassed as her cheeks tinted pink. "But other than that, how come you guys aren't in your swimsuits? It's boiling!" She frowned worriedly.

"Why, is milady that eager to see me in all my glory?" Leon purred, standing in front of her in a flash. His teal eyes sparkled mischievously, as one of his hands reached forward to run his fingers through her long hair. "If you want to see me that badly, I'd rather 'perform' a private show for you tonight~"

Frey became as red as a ruby, opening and closing her mouth repeatedly like a fish out of water. She tried to speak, but no words came out as she could only stare up with eyes as wide as dinner plates at an amused Leon who was enjoying this situation far too much.

"Oi, knock it off!" Dylas growled, wrapping a protective arm around Frey as he glared sharply at Leon. "She's gonna go fishing with me after she's done, anyways!"

"WHAT?! No fair, you can't hog her all to yourself! If you guys are going fishing then I'm going, too!" Doug huffed, snatching Frey away from Dylas.

"No way, you dumbass dwarf! You're not invited!"

"Well, I am now, you fucking nag!"

As the two handsome idiots bickered like an old married couple and fought over Frey, she could only release an exasperated sigh. Honestly, she loved them both, but there was really no use trying to talk any sense into them. The best anyone could do was just wait it out until they inevitably get tired.

But as Doug and Dylas were yanking Frey from one side to another like a ragdoll, they suddenly stopped. It seems that everyone else halted, too, and the air blew bitter cold. Frey, oblivious, could only raise a brow before she finally realized--or more like felt--what all the boys were staring at.

She looked down, Doug and Dylas' hands accidentally cupping each one of Frey's breasts. All of the boys were a thousand shades of crimson, and Vishnal even started to have a nosebleed.

"ACK! S-Sorry..!" Doug and Dylas exclaimed in unison, abruptly pulling their hands away as if they were burned.

"O-Oh, uh, it's f-fine..!" Frey stuttered, not being able to meet anyone's gaze. "I-It was just an accident, after all!"

"Are you sure you're alright, Frey?" Kiel asked, holding her hands into his gently as he studied her face in concern. "These lowlifes didn't hurt you, did they?" It was rare for Kiel to be angry let alone badmouthing anyone, but it was clear from his tone how upset he was. Honestly, Doug and Dylas were a little scared...

"Y-Yes, I'm alright!" Frey nodded vigorously, smiling brightly. "Seriously, guys, don't worry about me! I'll see you all later, okay?" She hurriedly gave each one of them a chaste peck on the cheek before making her way back to the castle.

"So..." Leon began, a fake smile plastered on his lips as his eyes held no emotion. "I wonder who the true perverts are now?"

"H-Hey, it was an accident! Besides, it's all this moron's fault!" Dylas retorted, pointing an accusatory finger at Doug.

"MY fault?! If you just invited me in the first place, none of this would've happened!" Doug shouted furiously.

"You guys...touched...the princess' b-b-breasts..." Vishnal muttered, totally lost in his own world as he was slowly deteriorating from existence.

"Oh, my..." Arthur let out a heavy exhale. "I'm sure you two already know this, but as soon as Frey is done with her tasks then you both must apologize to her again. Accident or not, it is completely unacceptable for a man to touch a woman without her consent."

"Hey, y'know, I've been wondering..." Kiel cut in. "Do you guys ever think if Frey is just being strung along by us?"

"What do you mean?" Doug frowned.

"Like, didn't we confess to Frey at different times? And at every confession, she rejected all of us. And later on, it was only then we found out that we all shared the same feelings for her."

"So, what's your point?" Dylas pressed.

Kiel sighed, staring pointedly at the taller man. "Don't you find it a bit weird that now, we're all in a relationship with her? I know that being in a polyamorous relationship with Frey was something we all consented on from the very beginning, but why the sudden change of heart?"

"Isn't it obvious? Being in a polyamorous relationship means that Frey likes all of us at the same time, which is fine. Maybe she was just too shy at first to admit it." Leon shrugged.

"That may be true, or...what if she's only with us out of pity?" A wave of realization washed through everyone, and a certain pang of sadness settled in their hearts. "Frey is such a nice person, it's possible she only agreed to be with us since she felt bad for rejecting us. And now, she doesn't know how to break up with us for fear of hurting us even more."

"There's also one other possibility..." Arthur spoke up. "What if she actually likes one of us, but can't exclusively date that person?"

Dead silence. Only the faint sounds of the lake thrashing and birds chirping, before Vishnal was the one who first woke up back to reality.

"So... What are we supposed to do?" He questioned softly. "I feel so terrible... If what you're saying is true, then I don't want to continue on like this. I love Frey, but I can't ever bear the thought of hurting her!"

"How about a game?" Leon suggested.

"Now's really not the time, foxy." Doug rolled his eyes.

"No, no. You've misunderstood." Leon shook his head. "I'm talking about a game to see who Frey truly likes or doesn't like. And that way, we won't have to be hurting her and suffering like this anymore."

"Hmm... An interesting proposition." Arthur hummed thoughtfully. "I don't quite like referring to this as a 'game', but colour me intrigued. What's your idea, then?"

"Alright. So, we each get one whole day to spend with Frey. Completely alone, and no one is allowed to bother anyone else. As long as Frey is okay with it, then we can do whatever we want with her. Going on dates, exploring...you get the idea. Finally, by the end of the week, we'll all ask her how she feels and who she had the most fun with. Her answer will then determine what will happen afterwards."

"Hmph. Okay, that sounds good." Dylas nodded, agreeing for once. "How can we settle who goes first and last, though?"

"I think it would only be fair if we go in the order that Frey met us. So it's Vishnal, me, Doug, Arthur, Dylas, and then Leon." Kiel offered.

"All in favour?" Arthur asked, and everyone collectively voiced out their approval. "Good. It's settled, then. May the best man win!"

"Speaking of, I forgot that the castle is undergoing construction! So please excuse me, I'll have to get going now!" Vishnal grinned, disappearing in a blink of an eye.

"Wait... I just visited Ventuswill earlier with Granny Blossom." Doug furrowed his brows before gasping. "That bastard..! He went to go have a headstart with Frey!" He immediately chased after the conniving butler, but not before his shoulder got bumped hard by Dylas.

"If anyone's gonna get a headstart, it's me!"

"Oh, shut the hell up, HORSIE!"

Arthur sighed deeply, rubbing his temples stressfully as Kiel only chuckled sheepishly. Leon simply watched the scene, his fan hiding his smirk.

'There is a saying: Save the best for last~' Leon thought satisfyingly to himself.

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nyotamalfoy · 4 years ago

Text

"Unexpected." - Part 2 Cillian Murphy x fem!Reader

Requested by the wonderful @fifty-shadesof-tommyshelby 💖

Part 1 can be found here

“Hey, Neil! Is that her? Is that (Y/N)?” Helen slaps Neil’s arm and points out the window as they drive around the city, still looking for (Y/N).

“Where?” Sophie calls out from the back as Neil snaps his head around to where Helen was pointing.

“Oh my god,” Neil mutters in worry as he makes out the outline of his niece lying on a bench.

They all run out as soon as he parks the car and gasp as they reach her side. Her foot was bloody, mostly dried blood, and her face was covered in dried tear tracks.

“This is all my fault, I shouldn’t have left her alone,” Neil says as he kneels down and tucks a piece of hair behind (Y/N)’s ears. He looks like he is about to break down when Helen puts a hand on his shoulders and tries to comfort him.

“It’s not your fault, Neil. Don’t beat yourself up over it,” Helen says, rubbing his back.

“Yes, we’ve found her…near the beach side café…yes that’s the one…here, take a right, I can see you,” Sophie talks into her phone as she waves her hand over her head trying to catch the attention of the newly arrived car consisting of the rest of the search party, Paul, Finn, Joe and Tom.

“Is she okay?” Tom called out as they all got out of Paul’s car.

Neil tries to wake her up, shaking her shoulders, but she doesn’t budge. He asks if anyone has water and waits as Finn rushes to Paul’s car to get a bottle. He splashes a few drops on (Y/N)’s face and almost cries in relief as her eyes flutter open.

“What happened?” (Y/N) asks in a groggy voice as she sits upright and holds a hand to her forehead. She looks positively exhausted and cold, very cold. She rubs her arms for warmth as she looks around her in surprise at the small crowd of very famous people asking if she was alright before she remembers what happened that morning.

Neil immediately hugs her and whispers repeatedly in her ears how he is glad that she’s okay and he keeps saying sorry, much to (Y/N)’s confusion.

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“Are you sure you’re okay?” Neil asks (Y/N) for the hundredth time as he tucks her in for bed.

“I’m fine, Neil,” (Y/N) smiles and replies while feeling a little embarrassed at her outburst a few hours ago.

“Okay, sleep well, kid.” Neil kisses her forehead before turning off the light and closing her door.

As he was changing into his t-shirt to sleep, his phone rang from the beside his bed. The screen reading Cillian.

‘Why is he calling at this time?’ Neil thought to himself, answering it anyway.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Neil, uh- I wanted to- uh-…is (Y/N) there?” Cillian stutters as Neil becomes a bit suspicious.

“She’s asleep, why?”

“Uh- It’s just that, um…oh, stuff it. I wanted to apologize to her for being a jerk and ruining her day. She didn’t deserve this and I know its my fault. I just want her to know that she wasn’t the problem there and I had a bad day and I took it out on her which I shouldn’t have-”

“Okay! Cillian, calm down, I’ll ask her to call you tomorrow morning, alright?” Neil cut off Cillian’s rambling and knew at that moment that he did really feel bad for saying all those things.

“Yeah, okay, thanks, Neil.” Cillian says, as if still in a daze, and hangs up.

Neil puts down his phone and smiles in amazement. Cillian was such a put-together person; he never stuttered or rambled. Something really had Cillian on edge, and it wasn’t hard to notice that the something was probably his guilt for being rude to someone, him being the soft baby that he is.

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

“Good morning, (Y/N),” Neil greets her from the dining table, coffee mug and mobile phone in hand.

“Morning,” (Y/N) mutters as she drags her feet to the fridge to get cereal, careful not to put too much pressure on the injured leg.

“Cillian called last night,” Neil starts, still looking at his phone, reading something and sipping his coffee. “He says he’s really sorry about yesterday. He went on and on about how rude he was, and I told him that you’ll call him in the morning. Which is about now.” He checks the time and turns to her.

“Wait, Cillian, as in Cillian Murphy?” (Y/N) asked, her eyes wide.

“How many Cillians do you know (Y/N)?”

“So, the Cillian Murphy, called you, to apologise to me?”

“Yes, so are you going to call him or not?”

“Should I? I mean, he was pretty rude to me yesterday.” (Y/N) hugged her arms around herself and looked down.

“He isn’t like that normally, (Y/N). He is literally the nicest person you’ll ever meet but he just had a really bad morning yesterday and he took it out on the first person he saw.” Neil puts his finger up as (Y/N) opens her mouth to speak. “I know it doesn’t justify his words, but he really did sound guilty and sincere when he called last night.”

(Y/N) contemplated the idea for some time before finally agreeing to talk to Cillian. She took his number from Neil and called from her phone. She waited with bated breath and tried to calm her nerves considering that she was calling the person who she’d had a crush on for years. Even though, he had been a bit rude to her, she was willing to give him a second chance knowing that yesterday might’ve just been a bad day. Something that she could relate to very well.

“Hello, who’s this?” Cillian’s voice floated through her phone once he picked up after 3 or 4 rings.

“Um, it’s (Y/N). You wanted to talk to me?” (Y/N) asked once the initial shock had worn off.

“Yes! (Y/N), first of all, I’m glad you called me back because to be honest, I thought you’d hate me after yesterday. Secondly, I am honestly, truly, genuinely sorry for how I behaved with you. I was a total jerk and didn’t think before I said whatever I said. I just- (Y/N)? Are you there?”

“I’m here,” (Y/N) said, mildly surprised, with her eyebrows raised and her mouth slightly parted.

“Good, so my point was, can I make it up to you? I just feel so terrible knowing I ruined your special day.”

“I- uhm, sure.”

“So, can we meet somewhere today?” Cillian asks, sounding hopeful.

“Yeah, I guess.” (Y/N) nods her head, even though he can’t see it.

“I’ll text you the details soon, alright? I’m sorry again, (Y/N). I’ll see you later, then?”

“Yeah, see ya.” (Y/N) hangs up the phone, still in a trance, and walks downstairs.

“Neil, you’ll never guess what just happened,” (Y/N) calls out as she goes into the kitchen, expecting to see Neil sitting there, but finds it empty.

She walks to the counter where she spots a post-it note with a Neil’s familiar scrawl on it.

Sorry, kid. Had to leave for work. See you in the afternoon. <3

She smiled and shook her head before going to get ready for the day.

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“Hi, ma’am, do you have a reservation?” The waiter asked as he saw (Y/N) come in.

“Uh- I’m supposed to meet someone here?” (Y/N) tells the waiter, nervously wringing her hands together.

“Their name?” The waiter pulls out a tablet ready to type in the name.

“Cillian Murphy?” She watches as the waiter looks up at her with recognition on his face and immediately puts down the tablet.

“Of course, Miss (Y/N), follow me please.” The waiter guides a dumbstruck (Y/N) through the royal and very expensive looking furniture of the restaurant.

“Here you are, enjoy your night,” The waiter says before leaving (Y/N) in front of a door leading to a private booth.

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

“Hey! Cillian, are you coming to the bar?” Paul asks Cillian as they wrap up the set for the day.

“Not today, Paul. I have to go somewhere.” Cillian smiles and leaves before anyone else could ask any more questions.

He was beyond relieved when (Y/N) agreed to talk to him because he was about 100% certain that she hated him. He wanted to show her that she was appreciated and that he cared. So, he decided to take her to his favourite restaurant.

As he sat in the booth he booked, waiting for (Y/N), he was getting more and more nervous. He didn’t know if it was because of his fear of rejection or if he liked her. Probably the former, right? I mean, I don’t even know her. He thought to himself.

Cillian looked at his watch at the same moment the door handle turned making him snap his head towards it. He felt as if his brain wasn’t working in that moment as he saw (Y/N) peeking her head in and then walk forwards. She looked beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.

“Um, hey.” (Y/N) sat in the chair opposite him and gave him a small smile.

“What?” Cillian asked, broken out of his reverie by her sweet voice.

“I said, hey.” She giggled and shook her head.

“Oh yeah, hi.” The sight of her laughing brought a smile to his face.

“So, this place is really nice.” (Y/N) gestured around to the restaurant.

“Yeah, one of my favourites,” Cillian said, unable to take his eyes off her.

As the night went on, Cillian and (Y/N) talked about anything and everything, getting to know each other better. One thing they both realised very early on in the conversation, was that they were both falling for each other.

Falling very hard, indeed.

A/N: Should I make a part 3?

#Cillian Murphy #cillian murphy x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders cast #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #fem!reader #peaky blinders cast x reader #cillian murphy imagine

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staketheheart · 4 years ago

Text

The Dangers of Eavesdropping

Robbie was running late to lunch. He had paid the price for Rex backtalking some hulking student he didn't want any beef with and was thrown headfirst into the closest trash bin. Once he climbed out and cleaned up, he ran to get the cupcakes he promised Cat then rushed down the hall toward the Asphalt Café. As he started to pass the Blackbox, he stumbled and glanced down at his undone shoelace.

"Jiminy, I could have fallen and broken something. Or worse, I could have crushed Cat's cupcakes," he grumbled, crouching to set them down and tie his shoe. He heard a muffled grumbling from his backpack and rolled his eyes. Rex was being a smart aleck again. Which was why he was stuffed in his backpack in the first place as punishment. He shifted his backpack from his shoulders to the floor and unzipped it, freeing Rex.

"Ugh, finally! I can breathe!" he gasped dramatically.

"Well, if you didn't get me in trouble with those hooligans you wouldn't have-" Robbie started to chastise, but Rex silenced him.

"Shut your trap. You hear that?" he questioned, head turning to the Blackbox. Robbie fell silent and listened. There were familiar voices coming from behind the closed doors. He closed his backpack and slung it on his back then stood up with Cat's cupcakes in one hand and Rex in the other. He approached the door hesitantly and stopped, far enough away that the voices hadn't cleared enough.

"What are you doing standing there? Listen in, Rob!" Rex ordered.

"It's probably private," he reasoned.

"Yeah, so? That's when it's good!" Rex encouraged. Robbie shook his head and stepped away but froze at the very familiar laughter. Bright and sunny. Tori.

"Vega, quit squirming! You wanted this!" a harsh voice joined in, taming the laughter.

"You touched a ticklish spot."

"Whatever. Just relax."

Robbie had never heard Jade go from peeved to relaxed so fast. Her voice almost sounded…soft. Gentle.

"Are you sure we should be doing this now? Lunch is about to start."

"You've been bugging me all day about how much you wanted this."

"Yeah, but sometimes you do it too hard, and I…"

There was a moan and Robbie felt his cheeks warm. He unintentionally leaned closer to try and catch Tori's fading words. Jade's answering chuckle was smug.

"I know, but you like it that way," she teased. If Robbie was blushing, he could only imagine how Tori was fairing. He absently plucked at his shirt.

"Yo, Rob. Do you realize what we're hearing? We just hit the jackpot! Now we can hold this over the wicked witch's head and make her listen to us," he whispered. Robbie frowned at that. Jade was mean, but she didn't pick on him nearly as much as she used to. Probably because unlike him, Tori could get her to do just about anything without bribery or blackmail.

"Well, after the first time I was really looking forward to it, but I didn't think it would be at school," Tori replied, sighing wistfully. Jade chuckled at the following groan.

"Yeah, and aren't you happy I suggested it? Actually, don't answer that. I know you are."

Robbie bit his tongue to stop himself from squeaking. He shouldn't be there. He shouldn't be overhearing such a saucy conversation between his friends. It was private.

"Besides, you're terrible at it, so the only way I can enjoy it is if you do," Jade continued.

"Sorry," Tori apologized through a small groan. It would have sounded more sincere if she wasn't currently enjoying said attention.

"Don't worry about it. I have a few things you could do to make it up to me," Jade assured.

"Hot damn," Rex commented a little too loudly. Robbie hastily slapped a hand over his mouth.

"You know, if you're so concerned about getting to lunch in time, we could always pick this up at my place."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm."

"As much as I'm enjoying this, food sounds so good right now."

"I know how much you love your food, Tor. Let's get you something to eat so I can have you all to myself once we get out of here."

Tori cheered then the sound of a shifting chair sliding over the hard ground signalled that she was on her feet.

"Mwah!"

Robbie's eyebrows rose and his eyes widened. Lips on cheek most likely. At least he thought so.

"Ugh, Vega! Less spit!" Jade complained. Tori only laughed.

"Come on! Most of the good stuff will probably already be gone!" she urged. Footsteps headed for the door at a quick pace.

"Run, fool!" Rex commanded. Robbie almost tripped over his own feet in his rush to flee from the scene. Years of running from bullies allowed him to fly down the hall and burst outside in record time. He paused to catch his breath, glance over his shoulder to make sure an angry Jade wasn't close behind. Then, as calmly as possible, he walked toward their shared table. He took a seat by Cat and set the cupcakes in front of her. She celebrated loudly and announced to everyone what Robbie gave her, kissing his cheek in gratitude. He sat back and enjoyed the attention as well as Cat's enthusiastic joy with a smile. It was even cute watching her stuff her face with the chocolatey confections.

"Look at you, getting to listen in on some action and then getting some yourself," Rex praised.

"Shush!" Robbie silenced him, slapping a hand over Rex's mouth again. Rex bit him and he yelped, pulling away.

"Don't shoosh me," he scolded with a shake of his head. Robbie was just about to retort when Jade and Tori sat down. He couldn't help but tense in his seat, nervous that they would somehow find out what he had heard.

"Hey, guys!" Tori greeted, sunny as ever. Jade plopped down next to her and just nodded a greeting. Everyone returned it and they struck up a conversation. Robbie silently watched Jade's interaction with Tori and the others. She didn't look angry. In fact, she looked content and completely uninterested in anything other than Tori. Her usually sharp gaze roved over the other girl's face, studying and admiring. Much like Robbie's own tendency to watch Cat.

"She ain't so wicked when she looks like that, huh?" Rex remarked. Robbie nodded. Tori was a good influence on Jade, and vice versa, as strange as that was. The first time he heard they were dating he almost couldn't believe it. Then he saw their PDA firsthand and was shocked that such a thing was actually true. And now he had heard things. Private things that should only stay between couples. He bit his lip, wondering if he should come clean.

"I don't like that look," Rex said, staring at him.

"What look?" he inquired, feigning innocence.

"You can't act for nothin', Rob. You also can't sit there and tell me you aren't thinking about telling them what we heard," Rex said.

"But it was private," Robbie whined, as if that was the only reason he needed. Rex scoffed.

"Yeah, and I'm sure you thought it would stay private when Jade had to help you out of your sister's skinny jeans because you got stuck taking them off when you started to chafe your-" Rex began, only for Robbie to shove him in his backpack. That was a memory he had a hard time living down. He was so mortified. Even though Jade readily helped him, his payment was her teasing him about it openly for all to hear. His sudden decision to shut Rex up drew the attention of his friends.

"Uh, well, it was your fault I didn't finish homework last night!" he quickly thought up, yelling into his bag.

"What?" Rex's confused voice came from within. He ignored him and zipped the bag closed, dropping it at his feet. When he looked up, everyone was still looking at him.

"It was just a small tiff," he explained with a wave of his hand. He laughed nervously and avoided Jade's pointed gaze. She already looked suspicious. The brief eye contact with Tori only showed her concern. Slowly, everyone fell back into conversation and Robbie was left to his own devices. He let out a relieved sigh. The bell rang minutes later, and he jumped up, quick to get to class. Jade's presence alone was making him anxious. By the end of the day, he was relaxed again. He headed out and crossed the parking lot, a pep back in his step, but he skidded to a halt when he saw Jade blocking his path. Her arms were crossed, and a frown pulled at her lips. It was all very normal except for the way her eyes bore into his. She knew! She had to have figured it out and she was there to threaten him or outright stab him with her scissors then and there! He cringed at the thought.

"Hey there, Robbie. Heard anything interesting lately?" Jade addressed him, playing at nice. Her voice was friendly enough and so was the smile she fixed on him, but her eyes held the truth. She was not happy.

"Hey, Jade," he forced out weakly, raising a hand. She came to a stop in front of him. He fought not to take a step back.

"Man up! We have ammo now!" Rex smartly commented. Jade's eyes locked on Rex. Robbie held him close, defensive and protective. He had already lost one too many limbs by Jade's hand.

"For once the puppet is right," she admitted.

"Ha!" Rex exclaimed.

"Shut up!" she snapped at him. His mouth clicked shut. Jade returned her attention to Robbie.

"I know what you heard, Shapiro," she acknowledged, arms unfolding to drop to her sides. Robbie's scared gaze dropped with them, spotting no scissors, just clenched fists. Those were just as bad.

"I should pop your tires and make you walk home for eavesdropping. Or maybe I could make you play scavenger hunt with Rex's limbs," Jade began to threaten, taking a step closer. Robbie squeaked, his eyes closing as he flinched away.

"But I won't," Jade stated, stopping close enough to intimidate him but remaining in place. He cracked open an eye when he realized she wasn't going to attack him.

"W-what?" he stammered. Jade sighed.

"I would…but Vega told me it wasn't nice. Besides, it wouldn't be fair. Here you thought you were perving on us, when really all I was doing was giving Vega a massage," she revealed with a shrug.

"A…huh?" Robbie got out, confused. Jade chuckled, punching his shoulder in a playful manner. It hurt a bit, leading Robbie to believe that she was still getting back at him in some way.

"Yeah, she loves them. Like putty in my hands. Her neck and back have been hurting recently, and I was trying to help, but she was distracted by food. As always," Jade casually explained with an eyeroll and shake of her head.

"Oh, so…you aren't going to beat me up?" he checked.

"Nope," Jade confirmed.

"So…I can go?" he asked next, pointing over her shoulder at his means of escape.

"Sure," she agreed with a nod, stepping aside. He cautiously started walking and had just reached his bike when Jade grabbed his shoulder in a tight grip.

"Just keep in mind, if you try to listen in on us again, even if it's about the most boring topic in the world, I will give you a new haircut and Rex will be in a far worse state than anything that has happened to him before. Got it?" she warned.

"Got it," he squeaked, voice faint.

"Good," Jade said, letting him go with a harsh pat on the back. She turned away and took a single step only for her to stop. Robbie immediately froze on the seat of his bike.

"Besides, what you were thinking? That comes afterwards. We wouldn't want you hearing that, now would we?" she taunted, shooting a smirk over shoulder. His jaw dropped and she laughed, sauntering away. Robbie tried hard not to think about the implication. He really did. He knew a trap when he saw one. Especially when it came to Jade. So instead, he thought of anything else as he made his way home. But he could only stay distracted for so long. In that moment when he allowed himself to think about the shenanigans Tori and Jade got into behind closed doors, he was grateful for Jade's inability to read minds. And with some luck, she would be driving Tori home right about now, so even if she could, she wouldn't be able to run him over. He mentally added Tori to his list of things to be grateful for and peddled faster.

#victorious fanfiction #jori fanfiction #jade west #Tori Vega #robbie shapiro #one shot #staketheheart

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stellar-starseed · 4 years ago

Text

Teacher’s Pet

Group: Ateez

Pairing: Student!Mingi x Teacher;fem!reader

Summary: Mingi’s senior year takes a turn as he finds himself entangled with his teacher.

Warning: Themes of grooming, sexual content, language

Part: One

Mingi sighed to himself and slumped in his seat. He was not a fan of English, it was so boring, and he was preparing for this years mess of essays. He dropped his book down on his desk.

“She’s hot!” Wooyoung whispered rather loudly as he sat next to Mingi.

“Who?” Mingi questioned looking up from his desk for the first time since entering the classroom.

“Her.” Wooyoung pointed to the front of the class. Mingi’s gaze followed Wooyoung’s finger to find the new English teacher. Mingi hadn’t seen her around. She was quite attractive, he thought. He shrugged it off, certain that this class would be hell.

“Alright, my name is Ms. ______. I see we are dealing with seniors!” The class responds with celebratory hollers. You chuckle at them. “Alright, well that is perfect! We’re going to get in to the good stuff this year guys. Are you excited? Please don’t answer that.” You laugh at yourself.

Mingi catches your smile as you laugh and he’s suddenly more interested. You pass out papers to each row and as they are passing them backward, you begin to read a poem.

The small chatter of the class fades out to Mingi and he tunes in to this voice like honey. It washes over him and he’s in a trance. The words he had followed along to on the page slip away and he looks up to see the source of the voice. Something about the poem she chose spoke to him.

Mingi gathered the bags of trash from the last bin at the back of the restaurant and headed outside. Chucking the bags over the dumpster’s edge, he heard laughter from behind.

“I know Yunho!” Mingi turned to see his best friends bent over laughing. Jungho spotted Mingi.

“Hey!” He yelled in a whisper. He jogged over to Mingi and passed him the joint.

“Guys, I’m starving!” Yunho whined.

“You’re always starving.” Mingi chuckled and took a long hit from the joint.

“Yeah but doesn’t a shake sound fucking delicious?” Yunho takes the joint from Mingi and takes a drag. “Come on man, a couple of shakes for your besties!” Yunho slaps Mingi’s chest with the back of his hand. Mingi rolls his eyes snatches the joint from Yunho to take another drag.

“A shake does sound kind of good right now.” Mingi hands the joint to Jongho. Yunho throws his hands up in victory.

After stomping out the joint and leaving the evidence in the parking lot the three boys head into the diner. Mingi walks to the back and starts an order on his tab. He sighs to himself. He knows his friends mean well, but sometimes they could be a pain.

Mingi serves the guys their shakes and fries and takes a seat at the table with them. His shift ended twenty minutes ago, but he would have to clean up after his friends.

“Dude!” Yunho slaps the table. “Isn’t that the hot teacher?” Jongho lifts his head to see and agrees.

“That’s definitely her.” Jongho shoves a fry in his mouth.

“What are we waiting for let’s go welcome her!” Yunho jumps up and heads towards the lunch counter.

“Hey, Ms. ________. I’m Yunho. I don’t have your class this year but I heard you’re like a really great teacher.”

“Oh?” You say and chuckle to yourself. “Well thank you that’s very kind of you to say.”

“Hey, do you mind if we join you? We would just like to welcome you properly.”

“Well,” you look around at the three boys, recognizing one from your class earlier today. “Sure. Why not?”

“Great thanks.” Yunho waves the guys over to take a seat. He climbs over the barstool and takes a seat next to you. After a long sip from his shake he asks, “So how do you like it so far?”

“Oh, uh, everyone seems very nice and welcoming.” You smile and take a drink from your straw.

“Shit!” Yunho says after looking at his phone, “Uh, I mean shoot. Sorry, it’s my mom I have to go. Jungho, give me a ride?”

“Yeah, wait up. Mingi are you coming?”

“No, man. It’s fine.”

“Okay.” Jungho takes one last sip from his shake and a fry to go as he waves and runs after Yunho. Mingi sighs and drops the fries back down on the plate.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” Mingi quickly shakes it off and smiles. “They just sort of think this is all free because I work here.”

“You work here?” You question. He nods and you nod along with him. “This is a pretty great sandwich. You want the other half? I’m not going to eat it.”

“Are you sure?” Mini questions as you push the plate towards him. When he hesitates you nod at him. You notice how he devours it in front of you. It makes you feel sad for him.

“So, did you just move in to town?”

“No, actually I’ve lived here my whole life. I just taught at the private school just outside of town.”

“Did you always want to be a teacher?”

“Sort of yeah. How about you. What is your dream?”

“I want to be a doctor...” Mingi looked away a bit embarrassed.

“Okay.” You nod and smile at him. “That’s valid.”

“Yeah, well people like me don’t have many opportunities.” He shook his head letting the remaining sandwich fall from his hand to the plate. “I am shit at exams and the entrance exam is no different.”

“It’s honestly a set of rules. You can learn them.”

“Can you teach me?” Mingi was surprised at how forward he was, but something pulled him towards her.

“Uh, I don’t know about that.” You chuckle and stir your straw around your melting shake.

“Oh come on please? I don’t have anyone else and I can’t afford those stupid tutoring sessions or classes. You’re my only hope at getting into the school I want.” You look Mingi in the eyes and see nothing but sincerity. You sigh to yourself and nod.

“Yes!” Mingi smiles wide.

“But you have to take this seriously and I have to get it cleared with the school and your parents.”

“Deal.” Mingi chuckled lightly in disbelief.

The following weekend Mingi was was at the restaurant with a bright smile on his face. He didn’t think he could enter those worn doors with this much excitement. He took a seat at the counter directly in front of the doors as to be spotted when you walked in. He laid out his books and started where he had last left off.

“Hey.” You say slightly unsure as you take a seat next to Mingi.

“H-hello,” Mingi cleared his throat. “Ms. ________.” You smiled at him.

“You can call me ______.” You blurted out. You were a bit taken aback at your own comment, but now it was out there, lingering in the air. You swallowed hard and look down at the books.

“Where are we?” You feel a bit warm and are curious about your sudden change with this boy. Hopefully he didn’t get the wrong idea, and hopefully he didn’t call you by your first name in front of other students or at school.

“Ah.” You say. “We should take it back a notch.” You flip through some pages. Pointing to a problem you give an example and Mingi leans in, his arm is pressed against yours and you don’t move.

Your heart rate increases and you continue to explain as best you can. Your mind is wandering to places you are ashamed to admit. The way his warm skin feels against yours. The way you turned away and closed your eyes momentarily to remember the feeling he gave you when he looked into your eyes. It was all too much to think about. How could this kid be causing these feelings? You brushed it away.

Mingi felt an electricity between you two. He felt alive. No one had ever made him feel that way. Your relaxed demeanor and body language were open to him. He was excited about what this could mean. His hand brushed against yours as he pointed to a problem. Your calm reaction, and the way you never moved away from his touches only called him to push the boundaries whenever possible.

“So, we’re done for today. Practice those last few pages and we’ll meet next week.” You gently smile at him and gather your things. Mingi is left feeling empty when your car pulls out of the parking lot. He wanted to be around you as much as he could.

The next week Mingi was surprised to see you pulling up in your car. You were earlier than normal and he was excited. You smiled up at him and his heart fluttered. Mingi awkwardly rocked on his feet while he waited for you to get out of your car. You waved him along and he offered a questioning look. You laughed at him.

“Come on.” You say, waiving him along with more vigor. Mingi nods with a large smile and he ran around the front of your car to hop in to the passengers seat.

The excitement died down for Mingi, and the silence blanketed him. He began to feel like he needed to fill the air with some random chatter.

“So, we’re going to tour the campus.” You say pulling him from his thoughts. His face lit up and and he turned to face you.

“Are you sure about this?” He questioned. You nod and laugh at his over exaggerated excitement.

You finally make it to the campus Mingi had dreamed of attending. Your words played in his head, ‘I used to go here, so I can show you around campus. It will be a cool learning experience.’

“Come on.” You wave Mingi along and he’s pulled from his thoughts. He smiles down at you and lingers close to you. The tension thickens. You turn swiftly and head towards your first stop.

“Mingi? Is that you?” Mingi clearly hears a familiar voice of one of his friends older brothers. He shyly smiles in your direction and tries to ignore it.

“Song Mingi! I know that’s your tall skinny ass over there. Get over here!” Mingi apologized to you as he bowed his head. He quickly ran over and said a few words to the other boy.

“Mingi, are you going here next year?”

“Ah, I don’t know.”

“You should, but you should most definitely come to this party we have going on right now. We just had to stop to pick up some ice and some more drinks.”

“No, no. Not today. I can’t.” Mingi shakes his head and says his goodbyes.

“Sorry about that.” Mingi jogged towards you. You smiled.

“It’s okay did you want to go hang out with your friends instead?”

“No, not at all.” Mingi waved your suggestion away.

Mingi was enamored by all the facts and stories you had to share about the campus. You didn’t expect to give so many personal stories on this tour, but Mingi was so intrigued and he asked question after question. It was intoxicating to have someone that interested. You wandered around and time seemed to fly by.

Soon you stumbled upon a party through your tour and you were being offered various forms of alcohol. Mingi denied multiple times and you began to feel as though you were holding him back.

“Mingi!” You both look in the direction of the earlier voice.

“Hey, I knew you would come.” The man jogged up to you both and greeted Mingi. He politely greeted you. You and Mingi both glance around and realize there was more of a crowd and most of them were holding cups of alcohol.

“Hey, _______, this is my buddy, Sam.” Sam takes your hand and offers you both a drink. Mingi immediately denies the drink and you accept, causing Mingi to rethink his refusal. Sam hands you both cups of his alcoholic concoction.

You sip at the strong drink and walk around what was apparently the big party. Mingi picks a spot for you both to sit down. After touring most of the campus it was nice to finally take a seat.

“So,” Mingi starts. He drinks the remaining liquid left in his cup.

“So...?” You counter. Mingi smiles and grabs another drink for you both. The silence that had settled over you was no longer awkward. You began to loosen up. Why would you need to feel awkward anyway. Mingi was a legal adult and after you realized that simple fact you relaxed much more.

Mingi asked about your childhood and your reasons for becoming a teacher. You got a bit deeper than you expected, letting him know your father was an alcoholic and you had to do most of the cleaning up since your brother had gone off to the military. When you finished your little story you felt a bit embarrassed for letting everything out.

“Wow,” Mingi said softly. “I could tell you were a strong woman.” He nods. You smile, sure there must be a slight blush on your cheeks. A silence settled in once again as you look up to find Mingi staring at you.

“I like listening to you.” He says finally. You offer a small smile and suggest it’s time to head back home.

Mingi was elated when he finally laid down in bed. He was wide awake and all thoughts lead back to you. Mingi was intoxicated by this new feeling, this excitement and wonder. Mingi felt there was so much there. He finally drifted to sleep with a small smile still on his lips.

Mingi found English class much more interesting. He was more alert and his grades in English definitely improved. He felt a bit more bold after a few study sessions. Knowing you wouldn’t have a class next period, Mingi skipped his math class and headed straight for your classroom.

“Hey, Ms. ______.” Mingi offered a shy crooked smile. He shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Hey, Mingi. Can I help you?” You place your papers on your desk and step out from behind it. Mingi looks around the classroom and you furrow your eyebrows at his odd behavior before leaning back into your desk and crossing your arms over your chest. Mingi steps closer.

“I-“ his voice is lower and you lean in a bit to hear him better. He steps even closer. Your breath hitches and your heart starts to pound in your ears. His lips press against yours and your caught by surprise. His kiss is confident but gentle and when he pulls away your wide eyes look up at him.

“Mingi.” Your fingers touch your lips. “Out! You have to get out.”

“I’m- shit. I’m sorry!” Mingi begins to panic. All the signs he saw, he knew he couldn’t be wrong.

“Now, Mingi. You need to go now.” You point to the door. Your heart rate is through the roof, your suddenly shaking. You quickly glance around your class room. You follow Mingi’s path to the door and look out in the hall. You close the door and let out the breath you were holding.

“Fuck!” You whisper to yourself . You push stray strands of hair out of your face and try to pull yourself together.

Mingi decided to skip his last class altogether. He headed home and cursed himself for being overly confident . All the signs you gave he was certain were solid signs. You seemed to be interested. Mingi racked his brain and he was certain he didn’t misread the signals you put out.

————————————————————

Hope you enjoyed this little bit of writing.

See you next time, love. Stay golden.

#queued for your reading pleasure #song Mingi #Mingi #ateez #teachers pet #imagines #scenarios #Mingi x reader #Mingi x fem!reader #Mingi imagines #Mingi scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop fan fic #kpop fan fiction #ateez fan fic #kpop #teacher’s pet

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dragon-swords-prophecies · 4 years ago

Text

Sacrifice Chapter 1

So I'm trying to edit chapter 1 of Sacrifice because I really don't like it and even I can tell how much my writing style has changed in three ish months but I can't figure out exactly whats wrong with it and since I've never shared anything on here ever thats this long and also I need want someone's opinion on this (Please & thank you very much), here's the first chapter of Sacrifice. I already know a bunch of stuff I'm cutting out the awkward romance part specifically i really should not even attempt to write stuff like that its just awkward but I can't figure out exactly what else is wrong with it so this is my solution instead. You sincerely truly don't have to read it if you don't want to I just thought this might be a good idea. And also its something to do if you're bored.

It's below the cut.

Taglist: @golden-eyed-writer

I grinned. Anne and Enna were arguing over the rules of Gin, while Anne, she was Enna’s twin, anyway, while Anne’s kids played tag with my nephew, Zane. Jen and Zebra collided in the middle of the room, and Zane didn’t stop in time, so they ended up in a pile of tangled limbs. My sister emerged from the other room and sighed, then burst into laughter, her wavy, silver tipped, black hair bouncing up and down. We were nearly identical, same silver blue eyes, silver tipped black hair, and dark skin. Our scales were different though. Ana’s smooth, tear drop shaped, silver scales covered her collarbone and wound down one arm; mine encircled my torso. Mine were easier to hide, but more people knew about them. I cast a lot of wind spells.

Ana only showed her scales to people she trusted, so walking in the room in a black tank top was a statement. Anne and Enna were identical, and their names mirrored each other. Blue black hair, Anne’s in twin buns and Enna’s in a half ponytail. Alabaster skin tinged with blue, and blue eyes. They had wings, but Enna was grounded. There was a knock on the door of Lei’s apartment. Lei, a blond Demonsblood, was standing closest to the door and pulled it open, sticking her head out. Two seconds later a boy dressed in the Barony’s colors entered.

“Uh, is there any person named,” He checked the sheet of paper clutched in his hands, “Anne Jones & Enna Helder-Kromlin here?” The twins stood up from the corner and scowled briefly, then Enna darted across the room, grabbed the paper, read it, and swore in Dragon.

“You can go now.” Said Faith, Lei’s redheaded younger cousin.

“Yes, ma’am.” He mumbled, then scampered away. “What is it? Dennis explode something again?” Asked Anne, striding over.

“There’s a gnome, blond, asking to see us. The note says she’s carrying the seal of the last baron.” Her twin answered in a shocked voice.

“Mae?”

“Maybe.” While they conversed, and Ana shrugged her jacket off after yanking it on when the door was opened, there was a second knock. Emily, a gnome alchemist and a friend of ours, answered this time, and her lavender eyes stared unseeing into the face of a second messenger. This one had a message for Ana. After reading it, my twin turned to me and grinned. Ana’s smile sometimes scared people. We both had pointed, sharp canine teeth, courtesy of our draconic ancestry. And that had the side effect of looking like you were about to murder someone when you smiled.

“Cerea’s alive. She’s here, with the gnome En mentioned. Joshua recognized the name.” A rush of emotions went through me. Two hundred and seventy four years ago mine and Ana’s home had been burned to the ground by Dizerdrat, an ancient red dragon. Cerea had been the name of a half elf with impressive innate primal magic, who had left when she was twenty, three months befor A'sshyse burned, leaving us the only survivors. The name was a bit ironic actually, A'sshyse sounded like Ashes if pronounced correctly, and that’s all it was now. Ashes and memories.

We didn’t bother to say anything, no one did. Two sets of twins walked out the door, leaving confusion, five friends, and three ten year olds behind. Enna twisted around before leaving, threatening, “If anyone touches those cards I will kill you.” Then she ran, and the second she and Anne were outside they broke out into a full out sprint, matching each other pace for pace. When we got to the main hall area, which had a bunch of alcoves off it that served as slightly more private spaces for meetings and the like, Anne and Enna had already tackle hugged a gnome with curly blond hair, and a black haired half elf stood nearby, awkwardly. Enna was whispering,

"Thirty five years Mae. Thirty five goddamn years. Where were you?"

“I was- Thirty five years?!”

“Yes.” Answered Anne. Mae rounded on the half elf, who put her hands up in a sign of surrender. Before the gnome could get a word out Cerea spoke.

“I didn’t know alright? I’m bad with time.”

“Still. You should have told me!”

“I know. I should have done a lot of things.” It was at that moment she looked in our direction, and saw us. Ana didn’t hesitate, rushing in to embrace a woman she hadn’t seen in nearly three hundred years. I hung back a bit. Not because of my sister, but because me and Cerea hadn’t exactly parted on… civil terms. Half a minute later Ana grabbed my arm, muttering Draconic into my ear.

“I don’t care what happened last time. You never got over it, I doubt she did.”

“Erm, okay-”

Cerea interrupted. “You survived?! What in the nine hells happened to A’sshyse?!”

“Dragonfire.” Ana answered. Then I blurted out, in Dragon, before I had to wait another three centuries to apologize.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I yelled at you. I was stupid, and, and an idiot-” Cerea intterupted in the same language.

“Yes, you were sometimes. But I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have said what I said. We were both wrong about the other.” She hugged me tightly, but quickly. As Cerea stepped away I noticed how much toll the last three hundred years had taken on her. She still had raven hair and coffee colored skin, but the freckles that once covered her face were gone. Her eyes still had the same twinkle, but the green was darker, closer to emerald than I’d ever seen them and older than they should be.

“So where were you?” Asked Enna, directing the question at Mae.

“I was petrified. I left right after you guys killed Shallodet, and then it’s a blur until waking up to find my very surprised teacher.”

Enna shuddered at the mention of the name. Shallodet was not a pleasant memory for her.

“Teacher?”

“Yeah. Anne & Enna, this is Cerea Roven. Cerea, these are my sisters. Anne and Enna Helder.”

“Helder-Kromlin. Claimed Mom’s name properly. But I’m not forgetting Helder. It’s hyphenated now. Drove the official crazy.” Corrected Enna. Anne followed with,

“Erm, it’s actually Anne Jones. I might have gotten married.”

“Sorry, what?!”

“I’ll explain later.”

“Hi?” Cerea grinned awkwardly, raising one hand in a half wave for a brief second. “Who’s the Gnome?” Asked Ana.

“I’m Mae Helder. Who are you?”

“Anastasia. Call me Ana. He’s Dash.”

“Hey. So you’re their sister?” I asked, changing the subject as quickly as possible.

“Uh huh. How’d you meet these two?”

“The War.” Answered Ana.

“War? What War?”

“Little sister, you’ve missed a lot. About a decade ago there was a War. Norfolk is gone.”

“Wow. Anything else I need to know?”

“Well, here’s the slight matter of there being a different Baron.”

“What?!”

“His name is Fredrick Falk.”

“Wait. Does that mean?”

“Yeah. He’s gone. Died about two years after you left.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I know how much he meant to you.”

“It’s okay.” The previous Baron had been the first person who had believed in Enna for a long time. When he died she had taken it hard. He had been the latest in a long line of parental figures; and each one had died.

Pike, her adopted mother, had died when she was 10. Her older brother, Zibra, had died when she was nineteen, and everyone thought it was her fault. Everyone except Anne. Her mentor, a half-dragon named Sasha, had died when she was twenty eight. When she was 40 she came back to the capital, only to find Anne missing. She thought it was her fault. Anne had nearly died. Then her Uncle, her mother’s twin, had turned out be her mother’s murder, confessed to killing Zibra and framing her, then he tried to kill both the twins, leaving Enna with thin scars that covered her arms, shoulders, back & torso.

“Anyway, why are you here?”

“Well,” Said Cerea nervously, fidgeting with the hem of her tunic. “Gray has heard some things, concerning things. They’re actually what led to me finding Mae.”

“What things?” I asked.

“The forges, the ones under the mountain, are waking up again.”

“I still don’t understand why he would put forges there, of all locations.” Muttered Anne.

“You need to tell someone.”

“That’s why we came here. Under the Code, you need two high ranking Druids to request a meeting with a ruler.”

“That’s surprisingly smart for a twenty five year old.” Said Enna, perhaps the third time in her life she had judged someone because of their apparent age. Cerea, unsurprisingly, burst out laughing.

“I’m two hundred and ninety ish. Can’t remember the exact number. Not 25.”

“Two hundred and ninety four.” I muttered quietly.

“Two hundred and ninety four, then. Either way, I’m not twenty five.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Twenty five is the oldest anyone’s ever thought I looked. I had a couple friends, a few years ago, they thought I was nineteen. Never got around to correcting them.”

“Uh-huh.” I muttered. Cerea had always looked young for her age, and it, plus her innate and extremely powerful primordial magic and wildshaping powers, had allowed her to get away with more things than the average kid would. Most of these exploits were related to stealing jelly tarts, which Ana stole from her and I then stole some of them from Ana. Yeah, fourteen year old me probably had better things to do than steal pastries from a 7 year old prankster, but it was either that or get possessed again, which is not an experience I’d recommend to anyone.

Yes, you read that correctly. Possessed. It’s a very long story that will probably come to light in time. Probably. Either way, we were interrupted by Joshua, the Baron’s 19 year old half-dragon grandson materializing from out of nowhere. His brown curls were more rumpled than usual, and his blue eyes shown with exhaustion. Joshua’s robes, the outfit commonly worn by wizards-in-training, were rumpled, like he had slept in them. He wasn’t strictly half dragon, closer to a quarter dragon. His dad’s dad had been a black dragon. His Mum, the Baron’s youngest daughter, had eloped with his dad and Joshua had only been raised in the court after his parents died in an Orc raid when he was seven. Before you ask, yes most of us had/have sob stories for backgrounds. Happy people who are mentaly stable don’t go out and hunt literal dragons.

Either way, the top half of his face, on a diagonal from right to left, was covered in smooth, black scales. They continued down his neck, and onto one arm. Joshua asked, “So you guys do know each other. I mean, I didn’t think there were a lot of black haired and crazy powerful half elven druids, but hey. There could’ve been more than one. Anyway, Grandpa’s ready to talk to you two. You know how to get there?”

“Yep.” Confirmed Mae, leading Cerea down the hallway. Joshua stayed, leaning against the stone wall.

“Hey.” Anne raised one hand half heartedly, in a sort of wave.

“Hi.”

“So I know how Ana & Dash know the mildly terrifying druid lady, but how do you two know the Gnome?”

“She’s our sister.”

“But neither of you are two Gnomes in a trench coat. So how?”

“I don’t even own a trenchcoat.” Muttered Enna.

“Exactly.”

“She’s our adopted sister, our foster mother fostered her too, though we didn’t know that then.”

“You had a foster mother?”

Anne sighed. “Yes. Pike Helder. Why do you think we speak Gnome?”

“I don’t know. Figured you just knew a lot of Gnomes.”

“I mean, we do, but that’s not the point.”

“Also, I think we would know if you guys were just Gnomes in trenchcoats.” I remarked.

“Yeah, I think you would.” Said Anne.

“You okay?” Ana asked Joshua, probably in response to his disheveled appearance.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I’m fine. Just stressed.” Ana scoffed, but didn’t say anything more. Enna turned to me. Her arms were crossed.

“Spill.”

“What?” I asked cluelessly. Anne added, “You and Cerea have history. What is it?,” she asked, her body language the same as her twin.

“Nothing, we just knew each other as kids.” “Uh huh.” “So that’s all?” “Yes,” I lied. Anne laughed.

“It’s almost like he thinks we don’t know that he’s lying.” “Yeah.” I looked anywhere except at the twins.

“It wasn’t anything!” I said, coming way closer to yelling than I should.

“You apologized to each other in Dragon when you saw each other.” I swore under my breath. I had forgotten Enna knew Dragon. I tended to forget she knew a lot of languages, Elven not among them in spite of her heritage.

“That was nothing.” I mumbled.

“It was not nothing. I saw Ana’s expression when she saw Cerea. She looked like her best friend had just come back to life.”

“She has.”

“Please. We all know you’re Ana’s best friend. If it’s not you, it’s Zane. Anyway, Ana looked like her best friend had just come back to life. But you, you looked like, I don’t even know how to describe it. You looked a lot like Anne when she got married to Jones. You looked like you were in love.”

“No-o. Not in love with her. Dated her once, sure, maybe we kissed a couple times, but I’m not in love with her,” I protested, turning redder than Faith’s hair, which was very, very red. “Dash, either I tell them or you do.” Threatened Ana, switching into rapid Demonic. Demonic was the one language we both knew that the twins didn’t speak.

“Can we not do this now?!” I replied, in the same language.

“What, you don’t want all our friends to know that you and Cerea were etinye aka?” She asked, using an Elven word.

“No, I would prefer not. And I really think that Cerea wouldn’t either.” “You’d be surprised. She’s changed a lot in 300 years.”

“And how would you know? You’ve seen her about as much as I have.”

She hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip and thinking. “I knew she was alive.”

--------End Chapter 1---------

If you've read this far THANK YOU VERY MUCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#writeblr #chapter 1 #full chapter #fantasy writing #my writing #WIP: Sacrifice #feedback would be appreciated #feedback wanted #sacrifice excerpt #sacrifice full chapter #WIP: Frost & Fire #WIP: Frost & Fire formerly known as Sacrifice

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concussed-to-pieces · 5 years ago

Text

To Tell You The Truth Part Six

Fandom: Prospect [2018]

Pairing: Eventual Ezra/Prospector!Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Welcome, welcome! This whole chapter is like. Fluff, with a sprinkle of healing. Prime indulgence hours. Enjoy!

Tag List: @huliabitch @renegademustelid @wrestlingfae @zombiexbody @sporadic-fics @rzrcrst @lackofhonor @the-feckless-wonder @arrowswithwifi @fioccodineveautunnale @absurdthirst @cryptkeepersoul @fleetwoodmactshirt @88dragon06 @roxypeanut

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Ezra displayed your battered helmet alongside his own on the mantelpiece above the faux fireplace, the two domes leaned into one another as if engaged in private conversation.

Most evenings found both of you in the main room of his modest apartment, him pacing back and forth as he recounted various portions of his 'semi-fictitious' memoir that were giving him trouble, while you drew and offered input where you hoped it might be beneficial.

"My editor, Kevva bless him, dares to insinuate that I am too ponderously wordy for the average book market." Ezra bemoaned one evening, dramatically collapsing into a sprawl of limbs on the couch alongside you. "'Get to the point, Ezra!' As if it is that simple, to just trim the fat off the prize cut of loin without regard for the flavor it provides!" He spat indignantly.

"You are very…" you searched through all the fanciful words you had picked up from him, finally settling on, "verbose. Almost to a fault. Sometimes I wonder if you're deliberately taking three times as long to say something."

"If I am to be prolific with my speech, I would rather be saying somethin' that people are interested in listenin' to." Ezra retorted, sounding somewhat betrayed over you taking his editor's side. "I've endured countless lectures from individuals with some form of power over me and none of them possessed a modicum of eloquence. Their words were weapons of the bluntest sort: hackneyed and ramshackle and detestable." His voice dipped lower, gravelly and reverent. "I would rather a singular articulate quote to a thousand plain, lifeless, uninventive platitudes. Words are all I've ever had for most of my existence, gentle soul. They are a precious commodity gleaned not from the treacherous climes of some deadly moon, but from the stolen tomes and salvaged papers of civilization long past."

He rubbed his temples, obviously exasperated. You, on the other hand, were a bit flushed. His rants were always a joy to witness, whether you wanted to admit it or not. There was something about Ezra getting riled up that you found mesmerizing.

"I apologize, gentle soul. You are not here to be my sounding board, and I shall not treat you as such." He said finally, dragging his hands down his face. "I will not subject you to my bouts of tempestuous querulousness."

"Hey, you can talk to me all you want! I just wish I could contribute usefully to your musing, that's all. I'm not nearly as well-spoken, I'd hate to use a word wrong." You replied, grimacing. "Like querulous...querulousness."

"It means I am peeved. Cantankerous."

"You?" You gasped in mock-surprise.

He groaned, "I did not realize how astute you were." You spotted the corner of his mouth twitching upwards and you knew you had him, nudging your elbow into his side until he surrendered and gave you a lazy grin.

"Ezra, what does 'mercado' mean?"

He jerked upright out of his slump at that, looking confused. "Where did you hear that word?"

"From...you?" You replied uncertainly. "It was while we were still...um, in the tent, I had just finished with your arm and you were looking through my sketchbook." His blank stare prompted you to continue, "you saw a picture I drew of the west dock and you-"

"Oh!" Ezra gasped, his eyes brightening with comprehension. He bounded off the couch, vanishing into his room. You sat there, wholly bewildered, until he reemerged struggling into his coat. He seized your hands, tugging you upright and then kissing your forehead. "You precious, beautiful woman!" He praised. "I am so glad you reminded me of our blood pact, sworn over the battered salvage of my arm on that accursed moon."

"Uh." Precious. Beautiful. "Blood...pact?"

"Hurry up, hurry up, put on your coat!" Ezra demanded. You imagined you could see his blond streak fairly bristling with excitement. "We must go."

"Go?"

"To the mercado!" Again with that gratuitous, flamboyant roll of the 'r'. You were beginning to suspect that he was enjoying himself.

"What, now?" You asked, allowing yourself to be essentially spun into your long coat. "But it's dark out-"

"All the more reason to rush! If we aren't expedient, they may be closed when we get there!" He grabbed your hand once again. "Kevva waits for no man, gentle soul!"

...

You had never run the length of the Pug's west dock without some incredibly valid, logical reason. So the fact that you were currently running because you were being giddily dragged along by a large man who was far too invested in deep fried food spoke volumes toward the sheer amount of the things that had changed in your life.

"Wait, wait-" You finally had to stop him, your side aching from your haphazard sprint. Ezra halted, appearing confused as you wheezed for air. You clung to his hand a bit tighter than you meant to.

"What's wrong?" He asked worriedly.

"C-Can't-" you gasped. "Hurts. Gimme' a second."

"I--oh. Oh! Gentle soul, why didn't you voice your discomfort earlier?!" He erupted in a panic. "Sit down, sit, I'll-"

"No no, I'm okay. It's just a stitch." You tried to calm him, but he was having none of it.

"I must insist that you sit down, immediately." He implored, sounding distraught. "If I have caused you harm, if your wound-"

"Hey, I'm okay." You interrupted him firmly. "I'm just a little less...in-shape, you know? Tender still."

"I feel like a tyrant, I offer my most sincere reparations."

"Ezra, oh my gods. You're so dramatic." You half-laughed, your breath catching when he kissed your knuckles in contrition. "We can keep going, I just can't run across the entire dock."

"If you are certain, gentle soul?" Ezra asked, gesturing back the way you came and arching his brows. "We can always jettison this fanciful excursion, should you require a reprieve."

You shook your head, tugging on his hand. "Nope, we're already down here. Keep one foot moving. If we get there and they're closed, then I'll need a reprieve. To mourn my loss."

"Too true!" He agreed, mindfully shortening his strides. "It's not far now. Once we arrive, promise me you'll rest?"

"If you feed me, absolutely." You joked.

"I would love nothin' more than the opportunity to dote upon you, gentle soul."

You laughed for real this time, assuming he was playing along with your jibe. When he didn't join in, you tucked your chin down into the collar of your jacket in embarrassment. "Ezra, you...you take care of me all the time." You pointed out, feeling shy of all things.

"You are my partner." He answered simply.

Partner. "I...Damon, h-he-" You began to speak, but then choked off at the last second.

Ezra stopped dead and you closed your eyes, scolding yourself for starting something you knew you wouldn't finish. "Martyr's malfeasance." The brown-haired man cursed softly.

"I'm...I'm sorry," you hurried to apologize. "I don't know why I...just forget I said anything, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ruin the fun."

"Every time I hear about him, he strikes me more and more as a man that I should have taken my sweet time disposin' of." Ezra snarled in that furiously cheery tone, his words stoking the tiny fire that you sheltered in your stomach.

Your grip on his hand tightened after a moment. "He didn't deserve the effort."

"Do not apologize for the shortcomings of others, gentle soul. I reiterate that I am here to listen if you need me. Though I warn you, I may not be able to keep from interruptin'." Ezra's eyes had gone dark with thought, his expression distressingly grim. "I am, at the end of the day, a loquacious fool." He perked up after a moment, pausing in front of a brightly-lit open air market. "Ah, and here we are! It appears that luck is with us, gentle soul, they do not close for another hour. Shall we fulfill our pact?"

The rest of your evening out was spent (intentionally or not, though you had your suspicions) effectively chasing off the shadow that recalling Damon had cast over you. Despite your protests, Ezra did end up feeding you half an order's worth of the delectable little sopaipillas, one by one.

...

When the rainy season hit, storms whipped through Puggart Bench and its wards with all the delicacy of a green prospector getting their hands on their first pull. It wasn't so much of an issue during the day; the sound of Ezra diligently expounding to himself usually muffled the howling winds or pouring rain. Late at night however, you couldn't help but imagine that the rumble of thunder was the pod striking the atmosphere, or that the rattling of the rain on the windowpanes was thrower fire. Your dreams turned frantic and riddled with nightmares. You even tried keeping your bedroom light on at one point to combat it, but it just amplified the shadows and gave your mind more fuel for its inventive fire.

You struggled in solitude for a good few nights, until one evening when you finally couldn't endure any longer. Surely he wouldn't mind, you would be quiet.

You slipped from your bed, bringing your pillow along as you padded down the hall to his room. Just as you reached for the keypad, the door slid open.

Ezra stood in front of you, a thin blanket and one of his pillows underneath his arm. He stared down at you. You stared up at him, your own pillow clutched tightly to your chest. "I..." he coughed awkwardly. "Er, the howling gale outside has...my nerves a bit...frayed. I merely-"

"Oh thank gods, I'm so glad it wasn't just me." You felt like you would burst with relief. "I was coming to ask if I could sleep in your room."

"What a novel coincidence! I was about to throw myself upon your mercies as well." Ezra winced at the thunder that boomed overhead after he spoke. "An expedient compromise is in order, gentle soul. We will adjourn to my quarters for this particular endeavor."

He stepped aside with a little bow and you entered the room, going to curl up on the floor at the foot of the bed.

"Gentle soul, I think you've done enough proverbial listenin' at the teacher's feet to last a lifetime. Make yourself comfortable." He urged, spreading his blanket back out on the bed. "If we must weather this storm in conjunction, I would prefer you were nearer rather than farther."

You opened your mouth to protest and the wind whipped the rain against the windows with a hollow rattle, sounding for all the world like a thrower shot at range. Your fists clenched on your thighs.

Damon isn't here. It's just Ezra. It's only Ezra.

Ezra turned to face you after meticulously smoothing out the wrinkles in his blanket, his forced smile and hollow eyes reminding you that you weren't the only one haunted by ghosts of your past. He extended a hand and you grabbed hold, letting him pull you up off the floor.

You fell into him, burying your face in his chest for a selfish moment. "Thank you." You whispered, uncertain if he even heard you over the rumble of thunder.

Ezra pressed his lips to your hairline and then ushered you underneath the blankets. He was achingly chaste, as though he thought you might bolt if he showed any sort of blatant affection. Truly, you might have if it had been any other person. His tentative touch rested on your wrist for a moment before he laced his fingers together with yours.

"Your proximity is a balm to my troubled thoughts, gentle soul." He murmured. "You turn my mind to poetic wanderings; dalliances in sun-dappled clearings, rain that does not make me fear for my life." Ezra sighed, the noise barely audible. "All too often I am back there in my dreams; suffering mutiny, I am left to decompose until a gentle soul comes and pulls me up out of the weeds."

"I have nightmares about Damon." You confessed softly.

The grip he had on your fingers tightened ever so slightly. "I said I would not ask, and I will not tarnish that promise. I am here, gentle soul." His eyes searched your own, forehead furrowed with concern. "I have never trusted someone as I trust you. I have never...you fought alongside me, you placed your life in my hands, despite-" He paused, swallowing thickly. "You have earned all the time you might ever need. If it is mine to give, it is already yours."

His words, unwavering and slow, were what pushed you over the edge. In a voice that trembled and eventually broke, you finally told him everything. You held nothing in reserve, the terrible stories of all those nights in the pod tumbling out of you one after the other. You were so tired of carrying everything in silence, and talking about it...it was as though it made it all real. Tangible. Something that you could finally release.

Ezra was surprisingly still through the whole endeavor, the normally-animated man obviously reining himself in. The only indication of his own mental state was the way he occasionally rubbed his thumb over your knuckles as you spoke about particularly trying instances.

"So this is the explanation." He said hoarsely once you lapsed into silence once more. "This is the trauma that you bear upon your precious, gentle soul. I...You've held it so tightly for so long, even though it wounds you. What has changed?"

"I found you." You replied bluntly. It was nonsensically simple to say, but it was true. He inhaled sharply. "You could have killed me, but instead-"

"I couldn't have." Ezra denied, shaking his head. "I saw you and while I knew I could play the part of the villain, I couldn't have...I wouldn't do anythin' to you. If not simply because you didn't slaughter me where I stood, then when you told me you had that kit and you almost broke my jaw after I startled you." He worked his jaw for a moment, like he still felt the echo of your head slamming into it. "And that man, the Sader, tryin' to tempt me into tradin' you in like livestock…"

"Because of everything that happened to me before, I...I panicked. I shouldn't have. I should have trusted you."

Ezra shook his head. "You had every right. I apologize for makin' you feel as though I would have accepted that pittance. I should have discussed everythin' with you beforehand." Lightning flashed nearby and thunder boomed, making you flinch sharply. Ezra urged you closer, his ragged shirt pressing to your cheek as you hid your face in his chest. "Martyr's malfeasance, your tenderness carves the heart out of me." He whispered. "You make me wish I was a reputable individual."

You started to apologize and he waved it off, stroking the back of your head and lulling you to sleep.

Despite the comfort his proximity brought you, the nightmares still came. You woke up panicking, as you often did, struggling away from the grip of the man beside you. He grunted and reached out to switch on the bedside table lamp. Ezra. It was just Ezra. You scolded yourself for your reaction, beginning to apologize again. But he simply rolled over and pressed his forehead to yours, humming in his throat sleepily.

Your fingers tangled in his shirt as you slowly relaxed against him and he mumbled, "In my dreams you come to me, as timid and inexorable as the dawn," brown eyes already half-lidded again. He sounded like he was reciting something, the words slurred with exhaustion, "In my sleepless hours you find me, tremulous and waning like the starlight."

You closed your eyes, just listening to his voice and letting it soothe you back into a doze.

"For I am a lost man who wanders bright and dark, all for the fleeting glimpse of you…"

…

His right hand had some minor nerve damage, which was to be expected. The infection had crept deep. You noticed a distinct lack of buttons on a majority of his new clothing, zipper pulls apparently easier to operate left-handed.

As the storms grew worse though, so too did his hand. It would occasionally seize up in bad weather, which unfortunately was all the time during the rainy season. Ezra was thoroughly miserable, though he attempted to hide it. The rapid progress on editing his memoir slowed to a grinding crawl as he pecked away one-handed, keeping his right secured in a brace for most of the time.

"Kevva damn it." He swore one grey morning, struggling fiercely with the tie around his neck. He was supposed to meet with his publisher and he always tried to dress the part.

"Hey," You yawned from the kitchen doorway, "you okay?"

"Gentle soul I must beg your assistance, I will be late!" Ezra pleaded from the bathroom, his tone distressed.

You left your mug on the counter, stifling another yawn as you slipped into the bathroom and batted his hands away from his neck. "Hold still." You mumbled, barely awake. His fingers dug into the sink on either side of you as you worked. When you glanced up you saw that his eyes were bright with unshed tears, his gaze fixed determinedly on his own reflection in the mirror. "It's okay to be upset, you know."

His jaw worked and he swallowed hard, obviously disagreeing but unable to vocalize it.

"I got it. All done." You soothed, patting the knot flat. "You won't be late. Be sure to check your fly." His eyes widened in panic and his hands flew to his zipper, making you burst out laughing. "Not now, Ezra! When you get there!" You grinned, playfully bumping your knuckles into his stomach just above his belt.

Ezra's chuckle was a little watery, but you chose to ignore it to let him think he was saving face. "What would I do without you, gentle soul? Wander the streets half-dressed with my placket splayed, I imagine." He mused, pressing a fond kiss to your forehead. "Now, Kevva waits. I will return presently. I believe it would be prudent for you to begin amassin' your sketches. We seem to be in the final stages of pre-production."

"Isn't it exciting?" You asked brightly.

"I am nervous enough to void my stomach." Ezra admitted. He squeezed your hand tightly. "I wish you could come with me, gentle soul. You make me feel at ease."

"You should have woken me up earlier, then!"

"You would have come with me?" He sounded surprised, running his hands through his unruly hair in an effort to smooth it down. "These meetings are so toilsome. At least if you were there, my publisher might spare me his tedious lectures." His blond streak sprang back up once his hands had passed, continuing its perennial goal of sticking out at a rakish angle.

You reached up to gently tug on the unruly little tuft of hair, smiling at him. "Suffering is no fun if you're doing it alone."

"Misery does indeed love its company." He sighed, his hand shifting up to cup your own on his temple. "These hands of yours, I..." he paused, grimacing in pain and flexing his own fingers. "Dammit, I…"

"I'll be here when you get back." You said simply. "Just like any other day."

Ezra's eyes were dark with thought as he stared down at you, the silence stretching almost uncomfortably long. "I...of course. Yes." He replied, his voice quiet.

You weren't expecting the call from him several hours later. You were just tucking into your lunch when your headset began to chime and you scrambled across the kitchen to grab it. "Yes, oh esteemed roommate?" You greeted him in the usual manner, smiling even though he couldn't see you.

"Gentle soul, are you busy?"

You stared longingly at your lunch. "I was about to eat. What's up?"

"He wants to see your sketches."

Your heart dropped. You weren't sure why, it wasn't as if you hadn't anticipated needing to have your own work checked over. Deep down you had hoped they would have more important things to consider, but it couldn't be helped. "What, now?"

Ezra's words were strangely clipped, so different from his usual flowery speech. "I'll be returnin' shortly, if you're amenable?"

"Absolutely, absolutely. I'll get...I'll gather everything up." You hurriedly put your plate back into the cooler. "Are you okay?"

"He has been more abrasive than usual, but I anticipated as much." He sighed raggedly and you heard the sound of the starter. "I've been out of sorts since this mornin'." He confessed. "I am uncertain as to why. Perhaps it's simply the weight of my own mortality catchin' up to me."

Your hands stilled in the process of shoving all your hard copies together. "Ezra, did something happen?"

"Nothin' aside from my immaculate personage being stained with impotence in the most mundane task imaginable." Ezra griped.

"Don't scare me like that." You scolded him. "I understand you're upset, but please don't use words like mortality. Gets me nervous."

"Fear not, gentle soul. I'll plague you for a good few years yet." He teased. "I am simply mourning the loss of a certain autonomy. The rain will not last forever, but while it lingers I imagine my moods shall be as grim as a graveyard."

"You'll have to try harder than that, you...poetically dour thing, you." You retorted dryly, shoving your hard copies into your unused portfolio. His laughter was loud in your ear. You loved when he laughed like that, all bright and startled like you had surprised it out of him.

You loved a lot of things about him, if you were being honest.

…

His publisher was a man named Thomas Anglio. He was in his late fifties, purportedly had no sense of humor and wore suits that were immaculately tailored.

The man's lack of humor was probably due to the stress of his job, you reasoned charitably. Managing so many aspiring authors couldn't be an easy feat, especially when he also had to juggle a certain querulous someone. At least you knew Ezra was paying him generously.

The secretary waved Ezra on tiredly, already reaching for the next Serv tablet before he was even done signing the both of you in.

You trailed along behind him as he strode into Mr. Anglio's office, the dark-haired man the picture of easy confidence. "I present my illustrious, illustrative companion." Ezra introduced you grandly as Mr. Anglio rose from behind his desk. "Gentle soul, this is Mister Thomas Anglio, a stalwart friend and a fiercely fashionable silver fox."

"You flatter me, Ezra." Thomas sighed, shaking your hand. "Please, take a seat and show me what you have prepared."

You obliged nervously, your hands trembling slightly as you undid your first bundle of sketches. "I believe what Ezra wanted was to have them sort of...scattered through the book at key points. Headers for each chapter, as well." You spread the pages out on the desk and Thomas leaned forward to examine them.

"Ezra, you are not writing a children's book." He pointed out practically. "The subject matter of this...strangely-realistic fiction of yours is decidedly adult."

"I am wholly convinced that my tale will not be half as impactful without their sketches, Mr. Anglio." Ezra insisted firmly.

Thomas groaned, rubbing his temples. "At least I know you're not doing this just to pad the final page count." He settled back in his chair, leafing through the piles of sketches. You had tried to separate them out by chapter, though due to Ezra's constant revisions you were certain some of them were out of place. "You understand we will not be using all of these, correct?" Anglio seemed relieved when you nodded hurriedly.

"I thought it would be better to have too many than too few." You explained quietly.

"You have quite the knack for drawing." He mused, lingering on one stack in particular. "Your portraits of Ezra are remarkable."

You heard Ezra swallow loudly beside you. "Portraits…?" The former prospector echoed tentatively.

Your brain ran back to you scrambling to collect all your sketches, shutting your eyes in silent panic as you realized you must have shuffled in the extra ones you hadn't meant to bring along.

"Yes, these appear to be for the portion of the story where our brave hero barters with a mercenary gang for safe passage off the moon. If I'm recalling correctly, of course." Mr. Anglio slid the pile of sketches to Ezra, who snatched them up immediately.

You saw his brown eyes go wide and you quickly ducked your head, busying yourself with pretending to sort through the groups of sketches. This was what you got for being disorganized! There were only supposed to be one or two from that scene!

The rest of the meeting was spent whittling down the groups of sketches to two per chapter, or three if they were small enough. Thomas also politely requested that you retool a few things, "this woman's helmet looks dangerously close to that inquisitor's from the Second Illumination. The last thing any of us want is to be sued by a failed monarchy."

You would say that the meeting went well, but you were so busy dreading being alone with Ezra again that it was all a blur. You just knew that your copious amounts of sketches focused on him would be subject to thorough questioning. And well they should be, it was borderline obsessive.

The jut of his jaw, the strong profile of his aquiline nose, the streak of blond above his right temple...all lovingly captured time and again. With and without the helmet.

You were certain you would be lucky to escape unscathed, waiting in fear for the proverbial pot to boil over.

...

"All you needed to do was ask, gentle soul." Ezra finally drawled after watching you anxiously wring your hands for the majority of the ride back to Ward Twenty-Seven. "Had I known that you wished so fervently to render me artistically, I would have happily sat for hours that you might properly capture my magnanimous visage."

"Please, please don't be upset." You begged, your fists tight in your lap. "I'll move out, okay? I'll leave and...and you'll never have to see me again. I'll send you the revised story sketches over the Serv, I'll-" His hand reached for your leg over the center console and you almost jumped out of your skin. "Wait, I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, please don't-"

"Gentle soul, I am not aggrieved in the slightest." Ezra assured you quietly. "Breathe. You seem ready to go to pieces." He rubbed your thigh soothingly, back and forth. "Breathe."

"You...you're not angry with me?" You asked tentatively. And really, you ought to have established that from your time in the Green!

Angered Ezra was a looming thundercloud, he was magma barely contained by fragile crust. His fury, though an absolute force of nature, dissipated as soon as it arrived, like the outbursts wearied him too much to perpetuate and maintain. Damon had seethed and resurrected his anger whenever the mood struck him, so it was odd to engage with someone who seemed to deem the emotion more trouble than it was worth. You knew that the man currently in the driver's seat was a hundred times more likely to launch into a woebegone soliloquy about how tenuous material possessions were if he spilled tea on his shirt. But old habits died hard; you couldn't seem to keep yourself from getting wound up.

"Far from it! You capture my countenance in a way that is decidedly more flatterin' than any mirror." Ezra tilted his head. "I am...envious of the man you have drawn." He admitted softly. "I wish that he and I were one and the same."

You weren't quite sure what to say. At least he wasn't angry. Or he said he wasn't. If anything, he sounded...sad. "What do you mean?" You asked, your brow furrowed as you recalled what he had said the night you shared his bed.

You make me wish I was a reputable individual.

Ezra shrugged, sighing, "Nothin' at all, gentle soul. The rain is just makin' me morose, I'm afraid. I'll be glad to be home again."

Home.

"Want me to make some tea when we get home?"

The soft smile he directed your way had no business settling in your stomach the way that it did. "Of course! You are somehow better at makin' it than I, a true conundrum considering how long I toiled away to achieve my technique."

You almost didn't notice when his hand cautiously returned to your thigh.

Almost.

Part Seven

166 notes · View notes

mitsuki-murakami · 5 years ago

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think of me [Oikawa x Reader]

Hello, hello. I’m glad you survived the 2018 tumblr purge.

It’s been a long time since I sent in a request *cracks knuckles* Can you do #3 from the dialogue prompt for Oikawa or Kuroo (your choice) making a mistake? This gonna be gud.

#3: “How could you think that this wouldn’t hurt me?’

Requested by: @thenerdyrebel

Hellooooo!! Y’all are probably sick of me saying sorry over and over again but I really am!! I haven’t touched this request for over two years so I’ll probably make one for Kuroo as well kjhdfkjadhf I sincerely apologize and thank you so much for requesting this I appreciate you so much hehehe

Warning: A N G S T angst angST

***

The day was going by pretty well. Most of the daylight was spent with your person, Oikawa. The two of you have been together since childhood, practically joined at the hip along with Iwaizumi. It didn’t really take long for people to start getting suspicious about the amount of time the two of you spend together on a daily basis. It got a little annoying with the constant prodding about when are you guys going to get together. Poor Iwaizumi no longer tries to explain the situation between the two of you, simply resolving to answer with a blunt “I don’t know, you ask them,” without answering any follow-up questions.

Neither of you really indulged in extravagant gimmicks that other couples did to show off. It’s not that you and he disliked it, it’s just that you both felt as if nothing needed to be announced to each other or anybody else. It was like there was a part of you and Oikawa that knew, even before either of you had the wits to form a proper sentence, that your relationship began a very long time ago, and it need not be confirmed that you loved him, he loved you, he was yours, and you were his.

Looking back at it, the closest you’ve ever been to hearing him ask if he was your boyfriend was during that one year in junior high when everyone was obsessing over whether or not they were in a relationship; if they had a boyfriend, girlfriend, or what.

“Hey Tooru, why’s everyone talking about relationships nowadays? I can’t go through a day without someone asking me we’re in one.” You absentmindedly asked him after deleting an e-mail you received from a classmate which of course, was asking if Oikawa was your boyfriend or not.

“I don’t know either. It’s crazy, because of it Iwa-chan gets annoyed with me even before I say a word.” You chuckled. It was true, you did see him get smacked by Iwa-chan earlier on in the day.

“We’re in one though, right?”

“Uh, duh.”

And that was pretty much it. The only kind of confirmation that either of you had. Some people would think that it was pretty sad about the fact that probably one of the most boring milestones in your relationship was also the most mundane one. But you thought it was nice how perfectly in sync the two of you were. Funny, even, because it made other people look stupid when the both of you would easily say “Yeah,” to the person who got blown off by Iwaizumi earlier and then suddenly go back to whatever you were doing just like that like it was common knowledge (It should be, you both thought so).

You could literally go on forever about how things went between the two of you, but you’d rather not. There was no time for that. The both of you were too busy with either chasing your dreams or pushing the other to chase theirs. After all, knowing exactly what you and the other wanted to be in the future was one of the defining characteristics that pulled you closer together, if that was even possible at this point.

Of course, there were downsides to that. Sometimes one of you would let being career-oriented get into your head causing you to push everyone else away, but luckily one of you was always there to slap the other silly or knock them into sense. Especially that one time he almost went ham on Kageyama? Boy, was Oikawa in it for you and Iwaizumi that day.

There was also that one time when you were determined on doing well with your academics that you forgot to take care of yourself. You weren’t eating right and your sleep hours were next to nothing. You saw these as simple sacrifices you were willing to make because everybody else could, but all Oikawa saw was you destroying yourself over something that didn’t even come close to the importance of your health. He made that very clear by watching over you for the next few days to make sure you ate and slept when you needed to.

The two of you worked well together to keep each other in check. Never has a day gone by without his presence, and it was pretty clear that as much as possible, both of you didn’t want to spend another without the other, considering everything the both of you have been through. Which is why no one could blame you for not wrapping your head around what he just said to you.

“I said, I’m thinking of accepting their offer. Look, you’ve heard of this team on the television before, right? They’re pretty strong.” He pointed at your laptop, right at the name of the university that e-mailed him a few weeks ago, offering him a full ride throughout college if he’d play on the varsity team as their setter.

“Yeah, I have.. But..” You tore your eyes away from the laptop the both of you were sharing on your laps and looked into his, confusion spreading across your face. He was giddy, and that look would always make you so happy, but in this case, it wasn’t. His face slightly fell.

“It’s really far away, this isn’t what we were planning.” It wasn’t a question that the two of you wanted to go to college together. Sure, it was a busy place and you wouldn’t be able to spend as much time together as you could, but at least you’d see each other every day.

“I know, I know, but look, this is a great offer! It’d give me a great chance to start up my career,” he reasoned, and he was right, it would help him advance his career early on, but what about yours? You wanted to get a Ph.D. and the school you’ve previously agreed was one of the top schools for that.

“I know this school, Tooru, and this isn’t what we agreed on. I have a small chance of getting a scholarship here, it’s a private school and many other kids are more qualified than I am.” You explained, crestfallen. You didn’t think that this was one of the things you two would disagree about, considering that you’d already discussed this before. Both of you spent all night huddled up in his bed covered in blankets looking for that one university that would fit both your needs and you did. You couldn’t comprehend why this was coming up now.

“Yeah, but I can always get you hooked up with something! I’m pretty sure they’d make adjustments if I ask them to, they seem thrilled to have me there.” This was starting to upset you. You didn’t have time for this, finals were coming up and you didn’t want to waste precious time arguing on something you’d already agreed on.

“What’s wrong with the one we both like? It’s still a powerhouse school, it’s closer to where we live, and a lot of our friends are going there.”

“Why are you being so picky about this? College is months away, we still have loads of time to pick another one that fits us.” At this point, you didn’t even bother looking at him. You pushed the laptop off you and stood up, reaching for your study materials.

“I have every right to be as picky as you are, Tooru.” And with that, you left your bedroom, attempting to slam the door behind you, but instead finding that Oikawa caught the door and swung it back open.

“Hey, don’t walk away from me,” his tone was almost indiscernible, unrecognizable to you with all your years of being by his side. It was emotionless almost because Oikawa knew that he’d lose it if he let even the slightest emotion flow through.

“I’m not. I’m walking away from this conversation. I need to study.” You set down your books on the table and pulled out a chair,

“Then don’t walk away from it, let’s talk it out.”

“This conversation was over months ago. We’ve talked about this.”

“I just-- Why is it so hard to talk to you about this?” He ran his hand through his hair, pulling out another chair and positioning it in front of you. You flipped through the pages, trying to find where you left off earlier before you got pulled into this conversation.

Oikawa realized that you weren’t going to respond, so he snapped the book shut, and along with it your patience.

“Because we shouldn’t have to!”

“So,” he sucked in a breath, leaning back on his seat in disbelief. “Talking about our career isn’t important to you anymore?”

“We weren’t talking about our career, we were talking about yours.” You crossed your arms, finally meeting his eyes. He was livid, but he did everything he could to restrain himself from lashing out. He always did that, when it came to you. It’s not like you couldn’t take it. He knew you could. But he didn’t want to hurt you. That would never cross his mind.

So much so that sometimes he confuses his intentions for his actions.

“That’s why I’m saying that we could both study here-- of course I’m thinking about your career too.”

“No, see, I’ve already told you, this doesn’t fit me. It’s doesn’t fit the degree I’m going to pursue.” Your hand reached up to cover half of your face while you sighed. “That college was already right for us, and now you mean to tell me that I have to reapply for a scholarship, look for another place for us to live-- everything!”

“Like I said, I’m going to take care of everything,” he was getting irritated with the back and forth, and honestly, who wouldn’t? But that wasn’t the case for you. You were tired, and now you only have a little over a couple of months to plan out your whole career all over again, which you already did almost a year ago, with the previous college. “Listen,”

“I am listening!”

He clicked his tongue, “Do you really not want to give this a shot? For me, hell, even for us? Do you realize what this opportunity could bring the two of us? Don’t you want that for us?!” It was like he couldn’t hear what he was saying!

You took in a deep breath; it sounded more like a shudder to you at this point, before you mustered up the energy to look him in the eye. A few beats of silence passed with the two of you just staring at each other for answers before you replied.

“You think I would say no that easily? To you?” You huffed in anger. “I already know this college, I’ve already weighed my options, and the answer is no, Tooru. My answer is final.” He turned away from you, glancing outside the window long enough to make another think that he was just taking in the scenery, but you knew he couldn’t say the next words to your face.

“So, you don’t care if we go to different schools, now?”

“Of course I--”

“Do you know what that could do to us? Are you,” he paused to stop his voice from cracking any further.

“I know that, and that’s why we planned this over a year ago. Because you don’t get to suddenly change your mind as soon as the next shiny offer comes to sweep you off your feet.” He didn’t respond immediately, like he was expecting you to say something to soften the blow that needed to be delivered. “I’m sorry, but it’s still no.”

His demeanor completely shifted, as if he was weakened by your indignance. Tired, exasperated, desperate, was only three of the many things you could feel from him.

“Just like that? You’re willing to give up on us just like that? How could you not be as affected as I am? How do you do that? Look, I’ve done everything to not surprise you with this. I waited until this week for us to talk about this, and this was the perfect week, the calm before the storm, I,” you thought he was done, but you were wrong. You were so wrong.

“I did it so that you wouldn’t be shocked when I told you the news. I could’ve accepted the offer with just one call, but I didn’t do it for you. I did everything in my power to not hurt you, but no, you just don’t care, do you?”

Then the first wave of tears came. But as steady as the tears that flowed down your cheeks, you didn’t falter. How you hated the fact that you cried when you were angry.

“How could you think that this wouldn’t hurt me?” Disbelief was an understatement. Stupefaction was more fitting.

“Do you honestly think I don’t care, Tooru? Is that how I make you feel?” No response. “Because if that’s how I make you feel, then I don’t think--”

“Don’t say it.” He finally stared at you again. “Please, don’t” God, the look on his face broke you. “Let’s just.. Let’s just take a break, okay? We’ll get back to this later, does that sound good?” You nodded softly as you stared into the distance, not realizing that the tear that fell onto your knuckle was his.

It took him wrapping you in his arms to realize that he had pulled you out of the chair and back onto your bed, the dreaded laptop discarded onto the far side of the room. He moved the both of you under the covers, letting you nestle into his chest. It didn’t matter that you soaked his shirt with tears. The only thing that did was that the two of you were going to get through this together.

Or so he lied to himself.

You woke up, still in his embrace. He was sound asleep, but the tear tracks on his face didn’t help you forget that your problem was indeed, very real and unchanging.

You’d think that not needing as much confirmation as the regular couple would be amazing, but it was far from that.

Because of it, you knew that Oikawa wouldn’t change his mind about it. You’d already given him all the reasons that you could think of, and repeating all of that wouldn’t do any good to either of you. He’d still stand by the thought that what he wanted for the both of you was best.

That would be okay. At this point, you knew each other too well. Too well that you both knew that the only way for both of you to succeed was to reach for it apart. You were pulling each other down by making mediocre choices to compromise for each other.

You loved him. You really did.

So you gently removed yourself from his embrace and packed up. You kissed his forehead, careful enough not to wake him before you left to stay at your family’s house. It didn’t matter if it hurt you more than you thought it would. It mattered that you were doing the best, for the both of you. Because you wanted to see him shine, you needed to step back.

A spotlight would be useless if everything it pointed to was already lit.

***

Thank you for reading!

Dear god this hurt more than it should have, I’m so sorry

thats literally all i can say im sosorry i love you dont hate me bye

Special thanks to @sashimeh and @capt-spangles

Taglist:

@from-sejiou-to-the-stars @zephyrria

#oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader #haikyuu oikawa #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu x reader #hq!!#hq #hq x reader #haikyuu imagines #angst #haikyuu angst

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