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miryum · 4 months ago

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"Pilot"

Summary: Detective!Jason Todd x detective!Reader based on Jake and Amy's relationship

Series Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of violence (but nothing descriptive), guns and other police stuff

Series Masterlist

Richard Grayson was surveying his detectives, assessing whether or not they were ready.

Cassandra Cain was glaring at her computer, angrily typing away. Dick had to get someone to fix her computer a week ago and he really didn’t want a repeat. But, seeing as she had yet to punch a hole through the screen, Dick was satisfied. Status: Ready.

Stephanie Brown was in the kitchen, humming to herself as she lathered peanut butter onto some bread. Dick couldn’t see the beginning of a toaster fire, so he moved onto his next detective. Status: Ready.

Timothy Drake’s eyes never left his computer as he chugged his fourth cup of coffee. Dick made a mental note to cut him off. Luckily, Tim had gotten a full four hours of sleep last night, so he shouldn’t pass out. Status: Ready.

Damian al Ghul technically wasn’t part of the precinct, but he was a loose cannon nonetheless. From Damian’s phone, Dick could faintly hear the sound of a dog’s bark, and based on the slight upturn of the boy’s lips, Dick guessed that he was enamoured by animal videos. At least he wasn’t causing chaos. Yet. Status: Ready.

Jason Todd was finishing some reports Dick had assigned him, but his eyes kept flickering to the unfinished book on his desk. In the past, Dick had to confiscate books and lock them in his desk drawer to keep Jason focused on his work. Somehow, however, the boy had found a new book, or roped Cass into helping him steal it from Dick’s desk. For now, though, he was occupied with his work. Status: Ready.

And then there was one. Y/n L/n. Dick sighed heavily, preparing himself for the shenanigans she would surely have gotten herself into. Dick’s gaze swept to the desk opposite Jason’s but… Y/n was sitting in her seat, cataloguing evidence. Dick’s mouth fell open. It was a miracle! What did he do to deserve this?! And on today of all days! Dick was silently celebrating when Y/n’s phone chimed and she peeked at it, a grin instantly coming to her face. She slowly turned her head to meet Damian’s Cheshire smile from behind his phone screen.

“Are you sure?” Y/n asked. Damian nodded. Dick whimpered, pleading to his gods that whatever they were planning would come to a halt. The new Captain was due any moment and he couldn’t risk things not going perfectly. “Terrific,” Y/n cackled.

Gotham had been gloomy that day, as it always was, but the dark sky was instantly forgotten as the elevator door hissed open and out stepped Captain Wayne. He was greeted by Y/n blasting Hello - I just came to say Hello sung by Lady Aqua on her small, Bluetooth speaker.

“Hello!” Y/n called to the emerging Captain, “And welcome to the sixty-sixth precinct in Gotham! Or as I like to call it, one six away from Hell and the devil herself.” She sang along with the track, “I just came to say hello! Steph! Now!”

Stephanie threw her hand up and let pieces of confetti fall to the floor. “I’ll clean it up later!” she shouted to Dick over the music.

Dick cradled his face in his hands. Captain Wayne did not seem pleased. Dick sighed before plastering on his award-winning smile and striding up to his new Captain. “Captain Wayne. I’m Sergeant Grayson. It’s a pleasure to have you here with us.”

Captain Wayne held a hand up and Dick slowly closed his mouth, his unshaken hand dropping to his side. “I am your new commanding officer, Captain Bruce Wayne. Sergeant Grayson? A word.”

“Of course,” he nodded, following Captain Wayne into the man’s new office. Dick shot Y/n a warning glare just as the music changed to Classic by MKTO. She bopped her head song to the beat, giving her superior a thumbs-up.

Damian didn’t look up as Captain Wayne marched by. After the door clicked shut, the civilian administrator muttered, “anyone else get a gay vibe?”

Y/n slowly turned the music down until it was a hush in the background. She hummed along before stating, “he and I are gonna be besties!” Steph cringed and Jason huffed a laugh.

“Sergeant Grayson,” Captain Wayne stood stoically, gazing out at his new team. “We served together in the fifteenth. How have you been?”

“Good, good. My wife and I just had twin baby girls.” Dick pulled out his wallet to show a family photo with him and Kori cuddling two little girls and grinning at the camera.

“Adorable,” Captain Wayne barely glanced at the picture. “Tell me about your detective squad.”

“Okay.” Dick turned to stare out the office window with his senior officer. “Damian is our civilian administrator. He… has opinions and can rudely say them at inappropriate times, but the few times he does his job, he’s incredibly good at it. He grew up with L/n and that’s mainly how he got the job. He’s putting himself through law school and is surprisingly top of his class.”

“Damian, I need you to catalogue these files for me,” Cass said.

Damian held up a finger, typing away on his phone.

“Damian,” Cass repeated.

“Hold on. I need to send a scathing email to my professor.”

Cass hummed and said, “fair. Take your time.”

“Cass is tough, fair, and impossible to read. Her specialty is silence, both in the field and in the precinct.” Dick exhaled, nodding towards the woman’s desk. “She’s brilliant and somewhat terrifying, but we all know she loves us.”

“How long has she been sitting there?” Y/n whispered.

“It’s been eight minutes and thirty one seconds,” Tim said, fixated on his watch.

“Damn,” Steph murmured. “What’s her record?”

“Eleven minutes and fifteen seconds,” Y/n answered automatically. They were all carefully watching Cass who was scowling at the wall.

“Alright, everyone!” Dick barged into the briefing room and the three detectives cried out in protest. “First order of-”

“Dick! Shut up!” Y/n shushed him. “You’re disturbing Cass! This could be a new record.”

“Wait wait!” Stephanie slapped Y/n’s arm. “She’s still in the zone!”

Y/n gasped. “You got lucky, Grayson.”

“Stephanie is our optimistic cinnamon roll.” Dick beamed and gestured to Steph who was faithfully sweeping up the confetti. “She’s super dedicated to her job and no one can stay mad at her. She’d do anything for this precinct, as we would her.”

“Hey, Tim? Tiiiiiiim… Timmy!” Steph tapped his desk. “That’s your eighth cup of coffee.”

“It’s decaf!” Tim protested.

“No, it’s not. I watched you make it.” Jason pipped up.

“You’re not helping!” Tim glared across the bullpen. Steph clicked her tongue accusingly, pointing at Jason to help prove her point.

“Fine.” Tim dumped his coffee in the trash. Steph ruffled Tim’s hair before bouncing back to her desk.

“Tim is a coffee addict. He may be the most academically gifted on the team, except when it comes to his sleep schedule. He’s dreamed about being a police officer his entire life and his face when he made detective… you should’ve seen him.” Dick chuckled, shaking his head.

After Steph walked away, Tim fished his coffee out of the trash and quickly chugged it. Jason frowned at him disapprovingly.

“Jason grew up on the streets. He had a… bad home life and was surrounded by gangs as a kid. He was sure he would end up behind bars instead of putting others behind them. An older officer, Alfred, picked him up off the streets. Jason pulled himself up from his bootstraps and is now here. Contrary to his large, tank-like frame, he's just a kid who loves Jane Austen.”

“There’s a perp running around,” Dick said in the briefing room. “Who keeps breaking into people’s houses and stealing oddly specific items. Certain books, a vase, even a pillow-”

“It's a crazy ex-girlfriend,” Jason called out.

“What?”

“The owners of the apartments all just got out of a relationship. The ex is stealing things that were meaningful from the relationship,” Jason explained. “The timeline adds up too. The robberies had time in between them for a relationship to grow and foster- a year or two apart.”

“Like your sex life,” Y/n snickered, high-fiving Cass.

“And Detective L/n?”

Dick shook his head, smiling softly against his will. “Y/n is my best detective. She’s always wanted to be the good guy and solve the hardest challenges. The only challenge she hasn’t overcome is how to grow up.”

“Well put,” Wayne raised an eyebrow.

“Thank you!” Dick mentally patted himself on the back. “I’ve spent a lot of therapy time talking about her. But you can’t tell her that. She already has a big ego.”

“Noted.”

“I’ll need a list of your employees and anyone who has a key-”

Crash! Bang-bang!

“Really?” Jason turned to Y/n who was messing with a mini electric keyboard. “What are you? Twelve?”

In response, Y/n hit a button and a fart noise filled the air. “And I’d like to apologise for my partner,” Jason rolled his eyes. “Her parents didn’t give her enough attention.”

Y/n loudly asked, “if I solve this case, can I get this for free?”

“If you solve this case, I’ll buy it for you,” Jason deadpanned.

“Yay! We’re looking for a perp with a buzz cut (ew, by the way) and a dragon tattoo on his left forearm.” Y/n stuck her tongue out at Jason. The man just frowned in question. “I have a confidential informant.” Y/n’s voice turned low and menacing. “He spent years in this place, slowly losing his sense of self. Watching, learning, listening… WE HAD A SPY ON THE INSIDE! HERCULES MUFFIN MAN!” Y/n proudly held up a small, fuzzy teddy bear. “Did I forget to mention he’s a nanny cam?” She turned Hercules Muffin Man around to show a camera implanted into his head. Her phone showed a grainy video of a guy breaking into the electronic store. “Oops!” She stuck her bottom lip out in a pout. “Guess I get a piano for my desk.”

“You’re dismissed,” Wayne nodded to Dick who saluted. “Please ask Damian to join me.”

“Yes, boss?” A minute later, Damian stood in the doorway.

“Close the door behind you,” Wayne instructed. “Tell me about L/n.”

“Y/n? I’m assuming you’re inquiring about personal details because I’m sure Richard gave you the professional. Y/n’s in love with Jason.” He shrugged, staring at his new boss with a look that asked Is that what you wanted to know?

“Oh.” Wayne didn’t know what else to say other than, “Does he like her back?” He cleared his throat.

“I don’t know,” Damian muttered. “I know my best friend, but I know shit about Jason.” Captain Wayne took a breath and excused Damian with a wave of his hand. He rubbed his temples, wondering what he had done to deserve the DA assigned him this precinct.

Bruce set up a photo of him and Clark as Rasputin blared on Y/n’s speakers.

#title of your sex tape #jason todd x reader #jason todd #dc x reader #dcu #detectives au #brooklyn 99 #b99 #b99/dcu #slow burn

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butterflybuckethat · 3 months ago

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Stranger Places ✶ Part II

Part I - 🦋 Masterlist 🦋

Notes: Carmen Berzatto x Fem!Reader; Carmy finds you drunk in the bathroom of The Bear. (1.6k words)

Warnings: Slow burn

You cupped your hands against the glass windows of The Bear. This felt like a never-ending nightmare, as if Dante’s Inferno was set in Chicago, as if the sky had fallen and you were the only one still trapped on Earth. It took all of twenty minutes after you left last night to discover that you had lost your watch, but you couldn’t go back, not when you knew he was still there. You figured now, at 6:30am, was a reasonable time not to run into him.

The restaurant was spotless, no trace of the confetti or glitter you had attempted to dodge on your way out, and completely empty. If you had left literally anything else you owned you probably would have abandoned it but of course it had to be your watch, your most prized possession. So you went around back.

Sleepless nights were not uncommon for Carmy; plagued with recurring nightmares, the exhaustion often felt more tolerable. This was not the reason he didn’t go home last night. He couldn’t get you out of his head.

He really didn’t know anything about you, not anything he could use to find you. Except for that name, Milly.

As morally questionable as the White Pages are, they did prove useful. It turned out that there were very few Milly’s in the Chicago area under the age of 80; two, in fact. “Are you still there?” This was one.

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry,” he said, juggling the duct taped landline and his pack of smokes. He had already been stuck in this conversation for fifteen minutes. He didn’t mind listening to her story, he had disrupted her morning after all; that is, until it turned into a pitch for Mary Kay. “I’m not really into makeup.”

“That’s alright sweetie. It has nothing to do with that.”

You froze as you rounded the corner to the back alley, there he was. You watched as he spoke into the phone, lit cigarette in his mouth. Even with the bags under his eyes and mussed hair, he looked great. You could always come back, you supposed, but there was something that pulled you toward him. A sense of familiarity, of attraction.

He nearly dropped the phone when he saw you, barely catching it as his posture straightened. You looked so different from last night in jeans and an oversized sweater. You were beautiful and fresh faced and Carmen felt a strange relief wash over him. You greeted him with a wave and a tight-lipped smile.

“I didn’t think I would see you again,” he said.

“I lost my watch.” You held up your empty wrist as proof, sleeve pooling at your elbow, and he gestured for you to come inside. “You can finish your phone call.” It took him a second to understand what you meant.

“Oh shit!” A burst of laughter spilled from your lips and it swelled in his chest. “I gotta go,” he spoke into the phone and hung up without waiting for a response.

Carmen ignored the guilt he felt on his hands and knees as he “helped” you search for the watch, acting as if he hadn’t meticulously cleaned every inch of The Bear just a few hours earlier. The watch wasn’t there and he was stalling your journey towards finding it but he just needed more before he could officially let you go. He wanted answers, he told himself, to the convoluted mystery you seemed to be at the center of. That was all.

“I still don’t know your name.”

“Why do you need to know it?”

His curiosity overrode your curt response, “I figure we’re trauma bonded now.”

“I traumatized you?”

“Well, you certainly made an impression,” he teased, emboldened by the upward twitch of your lips.

You told him your name and he knew he would never forget it.

You weren’t sure how he convinced you to stay for breakfast. Somewhere between his goofy smile and a twirl of your hair, you agreed.

You could hear the steady chop of Carmen’s knife as you went to search the restroom. You hesitated at the threshold, dread flooding your system.

“Where did you get the name Milly from?” you asked, honestly just looking for a distraction.

“It was the name your reservation was under.” You jumped, not realizing he was behind you. He must have noticed your apprehension because he wrapped his hand around the crook of your elbow, leading you away. “Your watch isn’t in there,” he confessed, explaining the nightly cleanings. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I didn’t tell you sooner…” You analyzed his face, looking for anything malicious or dishonest, but found nothing but open sincerity. “I just- I just didn’t want you to leave yet.”

Carmy, suddenly feeling very much like an open wound, went to check his quiche. He was almost hoping for a disaster, anything to distract from what a fool he’s been, but it was perfect. “I actually might have found Milly’s number, though!” He couldn’t help himself, grabbing the home phone from where he left it, he peeled up the post-it with the second name, Milly Walker, and began dialing. He could fix this for you. You might not find the watch, but at least he could give you some answers. The phone rang in his ear and he offered you a soft smile, putting it on speaker.

You were growing increasingly nervous. There was something you weren’t saying. Ring! Ring! It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Carmen because, weirdly enough, you did. It’s just, you left all this behind. Ring! Ring! You could practically hear your therapist's voice asking why you even went out with Mark if that were true. Ring! Ring! Your lips parted. Ring! Ring! “I actually know who she is, Milly.”

“Hello?” You lunged at Carmen, trying to get the phone. You both fell, landline skittering away, batteries popped and rolling in opposite directions.

“Do you think it hung up?” you whispered.

“Yeah, I would say so.” His laugh was low and breathy. Butterflies bloomed in your chest at the realization of his proximity. “You’re beautiful,” he said.

You tentatively touched his chin, trailing your fingers up his jaw. This was all so fast and way too good to be true. “You know nothing about me.”

“I don’t need to.” His voice was hoarse, eyes locked on your lips. You leaned in, prepared to set aside all your hurt and pain for just this one moment, and—

Ring! Ring!

You jumped, startled, away from Carmen and onto the linoleum floor. You stared at the phone, batteries still removed. “It’s alive.”

“We have another one,” Carmen said, amused, helping you stand. You followed him to the second phone, further into the kitchen, next to a bunch a hanging printouts of pastries and movie stills and more.

You watched Carmen adjust his clothes and his hair as if the person on the other end of the line was going to see him. You giggled, only a little, and he gave you a sheepish smile in return. You didn’t really date anymore, not really, not since Mark. It was just too difficult, the awkward first dates, one night stands that never turned into more, the managing of trust issues… So you decided, no more dating just to date. If you wanted to be with someone then that was who you would be with—that was almost a year and a half ago and no one seemed worthy. But maybe Carmen was.

Carmy picked up the phone, completely unable to tear his eyes from you. He still couldn’t believe you came back that morning, like that was a sign or something—not that he believed in things like that.

“The Bear. This is Carmen.”

“Ugh, thank god you called back.”

“Is something burning?” You whispered. Carmy furrowed his brows. The quiche!

“I’m sorry, who is this?” He was distracted, rushing to pull his slightly charred quiche Lorraine out of the oven. He covered the receiver, trying to mask your laughter.

“I spoke to Natalie a couple weeks ago about catering my wedding rehearsal?”

What the hell? Since when did they do catering? He poked you in the side before running to grab a pen and pad.

“My fiancé loved the pasta course so we were thinking that that could be the main focus, like elevated comfort food.”

“Okay, I made a note of that and will call back to confirm.” He was not going to agree to shit until he talked to Sugar.

“Oh, don’t you want the date?”

“Uh sure, yeah.”

“It’s in two weeks, on Saturday.”

“And what’s your name?”

“Milly Walker.”

#carmy berzatto #the bear #the bear fx #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x you #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto imagine #carmy x you #Stranger Places

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heartbreak-sandwich · 1 year ago

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Because I can't stop thinking about Billy eating you out on the hood of his Camaro at Lover's Lake in the middle of the night when no one else is around (thanks Billy anon 🫠) NSFW incoming ~

Billy was shocked that you didn't have to sneak out your window or side door with how late it was. He picked you up at your front door with the porch light still on, and the look on his face when he laid eyes on you said it all. The two of you sped straight toward Lover's Lake...

The sound of your heavy panting drowned out the crickets and the frogs and harmonized perfectly with the soft humming of the radio inside Billy's Camaro.

The car's hood was only slightly chilly against your exposed skin, just barely resting on it now as Billy's warm, veined hands pressed your thighs back further, your knees bent against your chest, hips spread open wide for his ease of access.

You were overcome with every sensation as Billy pushed you closer and closer to the edge of cumming all over his velvet tongue. He licked, and sucked, and growled softly at the taste of you, only taking a break once to smirk up at you, your slick shining in the moonlight as it dripped down his chin.

"You're making a real mess, you know that? One more drip on the hood of this car, and we just might have a problem."

You whimpered softly at his husky words which hung in the air and sprinkled down around you like golden confetti as he dove back in, quickening the pace of his tongue against your swollen clit.

We just might have a problem.

You didn't know what that meant, but you were sure it would be be succulent torture for you, and you wanted it more than anything in that moment. Feeling your stomach tighten, you tangled your fingers into Billy's curls, pushing him further into your desperate pussy, grinding your hips into his tongue over and over again until you couldn't stay quiet anymore.

"I -- I'm gonna cum," you almost whispered as it hit you. Your vision went white, and you felt a familiar explosion hit your core. To your surprise, Billy thrust two fingers into you as he sucked harder on your clit, and you let out a high pitched moan as your back arched and your head dropped back against the hood of the car.

If there was pain, you didn't notice. Every color blended into the next as you rode out your orgasm, barely able to make out the sweet sounds emanating from Billy as he cleaned up every last drop from between your legs.

Still breathing heavy, staring up at the sparkling night sky, you felt a hand smooth your hair away from your eyes.

"You okay?" Billy's cerulean eyes examined your face as he let his thumb glide down your cheek.

"Never been better," you replied, still trying to steady your breathing.

Billy smirked down at you with a scoff. "Good. Now, about that mess..."

#Billy Hargrove #Billy Hargrove smut #Billy Hargrove x reader #Billy Hargrove blurb #Billy Hargrove fanfic #afab reader #stranger things fanfic #billy hargrove gif #I just keep envisioning this so I made it a lil banner #I hope you guys like these short little blurbs I keep cranking out #they're easier for me to write and I have a lot of half baked scenarios in my head lol #sando writes

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midnightmoonytales · 1 year ago

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𝕃𝕒𝕤𝕥 ℕ𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕄.ℝ.

CW: Toxic relationship, implied smut, fighting, cursing, alcohol, weed/cigarettes.

Based on request: @thesonglyricchick "I was wondering if you could do a fic with Mattheo and Y/n based on Morgan Wallen's song, Last Night."

A/N: This was actually extremely hard to write which is shocking for the number of douchebags I've dated (it's only 2 I'm being dramatic - as per use) lol I could definitely see myself re-writing this in the future I don’t feel like this is my best work

Not Edited

WC: 1.8K

<><><>

Slytherin had just won the quidditch cup against Gryffindor, cheers and boos soared all through the stands. Slytherin colors consumed the stands as green and silver confetti shot through the air. Mattheo, Theodore, and Draco could be seen high up in the sky celebrating, bubbling with a sense of accomplishment. This was the last year they could play quidditch together, and whom better to defeat than no other than Gryffindor themselves.

Pansy, Blaise, and you all rushed out of the stands to celebrate Slytherin's victory with your friends. Mounting the ground, Mattheo searched for you in the stands only to notice you rushing towards him on the field, quickly dropping his broom in order to catch you. Jumping into his sweaty arms, "You did it," you cheered, cupping his face between your hands, and kissing him repeatedly. "I'm so proud of you," laughing at the way your cherry lipgloss stained his lips.

"Only because I had my lucky charm cheering me on," He smirked, going in for another taste of your cherry lipgloss. Rolling your eyes, your heart fluttered, even if he had said it after every win since 5th year.

"Mmm, as much as I love kissing you," you mumbled into the kiss, "You need a shower and we have a celebration to attend," tapping his chest a few times, signaling to let you down. Reluctantly, he lowered you to the ground, not without placing one last kiss and a smack to the ass.

Last night we let the liquor talk. I can't remember everything we said, but we said it all. You told me that you wish I was somebody you never met. But baby, baby, something tellin' me this ain't over yet.

The Slytherin room was bustling with students, the sound of their chatter being drowned out by the sound of blasting music. The room was dark and hazy, the lights dimmed into a dark green, the mass amount of smoke making it seem as if someone brought a muggle fog machine.

In the corner, Pansy, Theodore, Mattheo, and you were crowded around a small table, playing some sort of muggle game. It was so simple, all you had to do was make it into the cup. You would think Theodore and Mattheo would be better at the game, seeing as they literally wack flying balls into hoops all of the time for sport; Unfortunately for them, Pansy and you were winning with only one cup left, compared to your four. Their annoyance is evident as they gulped down another cup of alcohol. Blaise and Draco bent over in laughter, watching the guys lose. Better those two idiots than them, they thought.

You managed to land the ball into the last cup, "Oh come on," Mattheo shouted defeatedly, chugging the last cup of alcohol on his side. Pansy latched onto you, jumping up and down, laughing together over your success. While you didn't have as many drinks as the boys; you were definitely feelin' a little bit of the effects. Theodore had already found his way to the couch Draco and Blaise were residing on, slouched over with his hand covering his eye.

"Hey, I'm going to grab another drink babes," you mumbled into Pansy's ear, "want anything?" You already knew what she wanted to drink, she always ordered the same thing, anything fruity with a kick. Squeezing your way through sweaty bodies, you made it to the drink table, pouring Pansy and yourself a drink.

"Hey," a voice said from behind you, looking around you noticed a Hufflepuff boy who Theodore got his weed from. You never cared to learn his name, there was never much reason to; Theodore bought the weed and you gave him the galleons for your share. You nodded at him, paying no mind to him as you went to continue pouring yourself a drink. "Hey," the voice said again, tapping your shoulder.

Rolling your eyes, "Can I help you?" His sluggish smile and heavy eyes gleamed at finally having your attention. All you wanted to do was get you and your best friend a drink, and he was stalling that process. Your eyes roamed around the room, looking for your boyfriend, only to see him talking to some girl; eyeing the way her hand was gliding up and down his arm. You hadn't even realized the boy in front of you was speaking, his voice drowning out with the music. "Hmm?" Your attention finally being back to the boy in front of you.

"I asked if you wanted to dance," He asked again, slightly annoyed that you weren't even listening to him. Your eyes scanned the boy in front of you; he wasn't bad looking, with long blonde hair that was shaped nicely around his rosy cheeks, a few inches taller than you, strong build. You debated the pros and cons in your head; if you agreed, Mattheo would be given a taste of his own medicine, plus maybe you could sweet-talk him into giving you some free weed. Downing your drink, you grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the dance floor.

Your body flowed smoothly; the music reverberated through your bones; the alcohol made you feel as if you were dancing on clouds. His hands moved inexperiencedly up and down your sides, You could tell he never danced with a girl before, and if he had....well, good for him, sorry for her.

You don't know how long you were dancing before you felt a hand yank you from the Hufflepuff boys' grip, "The fuck do you think you're doing?" Mattheo exclaimed, his eyes burning with rage, breath reeking of alcohol. Rolling your eyes, of course, he wanted to throw a fit now, but he would gladly let a girl be all over him.

"Dancing, what the fuck does it look like?" You snapped back, scoffing as you ripped your arm out of his hold, moving to return to the makeshift dance floor. "Now if you excuse me, I'm going to go back to enjoying myself," you shouted over the music, "So piss off back to your little bitch,"

It didn't take long for him to follow you, hot on your tail. "Don't you fucking take that tone with me," He growled, gripping your arm as he dragged you up to his dorm. It wasn't a surprise to you as he dragged you up the staircase to his dorm rather it was your normal; Pansy would always ask you-in private of course-why, you were still with him when all you did was fight. She wasn't wrong of course, the two of you would have a huge fight, only to break up, then get back together two days later.

Slamming his door open, he yanked you into the room only slam you against the wall, lips immediately attacking to your neck. Not caring to even cast a locking charm, the only thing flooding his mind was showing you who you belonged too. "Fuck you Riddle."

"Don't worry darling, you'll be doin' that soon," He bit your neck, lapping at the tiny drops of blood beading on your neck. "Now be a good whore and get on your knees," He smirked, shoving your shoulder down until your knees hit the freezing hardwood floor.

You, you know that you love to fight, and I say shit I don't mean, But I'm still goin' wake up wantin' you and me; No way it was our last night; No way it was the last night that we break up, You call your momma, I call your bluff, In the middle of the night, pull it right back up; I wouldn't trade your kind of love for nothin' else

It had been a fairly calm day until Mattheo had barged into your dorm, nose dripping with blood. All plans of doing your hair and nails with Pansy were thrown out the window when your disgruntled boyfriend marched bloody straight into your bathroom. You followed him, expecting an explanation.

Only, you never received an explanation, instead, he started snapping at you for something you had no control over. "He's my fucking potions partner, if you want to bitch at anyone, bitch at Snape!" You argued, dabbing his nose with a wet towel in order to clean dried-up blood.

"I saw the way you were looking at him, don't fucking lie," He pushed back, eyes darkening with anger. You scoffed, exasperated, at the accusations he accused you of. You had to look at a person to talk to them. It's not like you can talk to someone with your back turned. So much for a peaceful day, you thought. But what were you expecting it was Mattheo you were dating. No day was ever quiet when you are dating a Riddle.

"Oh please, pull your head out of your arse," You snarled, currently annoyed at the bloody boy in front of you. Twisting his nose ever so slightly at his complaining, earning a yelp admitting from his mouth. "Godric forbid I look at anyone that isn't you!" You snapped, all you wanted was to spend a relaxing day with your best friend; instead, you were arguing with your boyfriend in the bathroom while cleaning up his blood, "News flash asshole I don't need your fuckin' permission to look at someone!" You said, slamming the towel you were holding onto the counter, storming your way out of the bathroom.

No way it was our last night, We said we'd had enough, I can't remember everything we said but we said too much; I know you packed your shit and slammed the door right before you left, but baby something tellin' me this ain't over yet; I know you said this time you really weren't coming back again, but baby somethin's tellin' me this ain't over yet;

"I can't do this anymore," You groaned, you don't know how long the two of you were at it this time. All you remembered was leaving the great hall this morning peacefully, only to be thrown into a yelling match as soon as you met Mattheo in his dorm. The boys had left the two of you alone as soon as you started yelling, not wanting to be brought into whatever you both were arguing about this time.

"Good, because I can't either," He spits out, eye surveying you moving around his bed to gather the items you left for when you would sleep over.

"I'm serious Mattheo, I'm done," You said, slamming the dresser drawer shut with your hip as you juggled everything in your arms. His mouth was left agape like he wanted to say something more, but he didn't. "Goodbye, Riddle," You whispered, shifting everything into one arm as you opened the dorm door, refusing to look back at him as you closed the door behind you. This was the end you told yourself.

<><><>

If your crossed out I could not tag you

@lost-cause96 @carolspalace @drugs-for-memes @slytherinqueen123 @ghostofscarley @devilishwitchfantasies @lovegoods-things @tinafuentes @mylastnamesyuh @heartjay @chocochannie @horneybeach1 @goth-blackcat @nataliexoxoxo29

#hp fandom #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x fem!reader #mattheo riddle

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onskepa · 2 months ago

Note

Helllooo, could I get a Rapunzel AU fic? In this universe Spider would be the rapunzel of the story, he gets stolen from his family, the Sullies, at a young age (he was adopted by Jake and Neytiri a couple of months after his dad’s death, although he really isn't) Quaritch would be the mother gothel of this AU, keeping Spider in a tower because his magic hair is what is helping him keep being alive. Then Loak would be like Flynn, but in this case a prince going through a rebellious phase, so he stills his older brother crown ( he doesnt really know Spider, cause he was a baby when he was kidnapped) his thief name is “Tulkun” and his partners in crime are Lyle and Z-Dog.

Quite the intersting idea I gotta say, none the less! I hope you enjoy this one!

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

Our sun

The sun gives life to all, brings warmth and comfort. With its bright radiant light, it guides everyone to their path. Brings happiness and provides. A great gift humanity has ever gotten. For centuries, humanity has shown their gratitude in many ways. Praising, worshiping, believing the sun is their god.

A god that is powerful and strong. The Omatikaya kingdom knows that better than anyone in the world. Festivals, sigils, legends, their symbol of the kingdom, all were dedicated to their sun.

For centuries the kingdom has never wavered their belief in the sun. Remaining strong and true. Always grateful and never greedy. And so, the sun god who was also grateful for the people the sun provides to, believes they deserve a gift.

A drop of sunlight fallen from the sky has touched the Earth. Gifting the king and queen of the Omatikaya their beautiful sunshine child.

That is what the story says of course.

“He is beautiful…” Jake Sully, King of the Omatikaya kingdom, gently coos at his believed son. Beside him was his queen, his love, and mother of their golden child, neytiri.

“He is perfect,” Neytiri smiles as she rubs her nose gently against their sons button nose. He gives light giggles in satisfaction. Their son, their beloved child. A gift from the sun. His beautiful golden curly hair, bright blue eyes that can rival the sky. And his smile, so radiant and infectious. Their son, the kingdom's golden prince.

Wrapped in the finest silk with embroidery intricately designed to that of the sun. The young baby was very much snuggled in great comfort.

“My lord, my lady, it is time” tsu’tey, their closest friend and top chief of the Omatikaya army, tells them.

“Come on, we dont want to keep our people waiting” jake gently leads his wife towards the top balcony that oversees their people.

“Yes my love, our people shall know of our sunny prince,” Neytiri says while she boops her baby’s nose.

“Have you chosen a name for him?” tsu’tey asks as he follows closely behind. Neytiri chuckles as she shares a look with jake.

“Spider, we chose to call our son, spider”

The people cheered and roared out in happiness once the royal couple had presented their son. Many were in awe at how such an adorable child could ever exist. Truly a gift blessed from their sun.

Many threw flower petals, confetti, horns blowing out, little children waving their flags. The crowd was booming with noise. All eyes on the prince. Including one set of icey blue eyes. Glaring at the royal family.

No one noticed him. All too busy celebrating. A tall menacing man with a dark cloak to hide his face. The man glared with hate. Just how dare they?

How dare the king and queen lie to their people? How dare they lie that their ‘son’ was a gift from their light above? How dare they lie and say the boy belongs to them? Lies, all lies.

But Quaritch knows the truth. That baby, the child the royal couple holds is his son. His blood! His ‘wife’ was a foolish woman. Giving away their child to the royals. She is at fault in this mess too! Too bad she is dead otherwise quaritch would have given her a piece of his mind. But it is not too late. Good thing he still remembers the ins and outs of the palace. After all, he used to be their top chief. The king’s once right hand man. Now replaced by that snarky brat.

Quartich will have his revenge soon enough. He will have his son back one way or another.

Night came, and silent as an owl, quaritch entered the royal bedroom without a squeak. Quietly and effortlessly he passed by the couple who were sleeping soundly. Beside them was the cradle where HIS son was sleeping. The cradle was elegantly crafted with golden trims and plush pillows. Only a few days old and he is being spoiled rotten. Cant have that.

Grabbing his scissors, quaritch goes for the baby’s golden locks. His hair will be a dead give away if anyone finds him. However, just cutting a small strand, the piece of hair turned dark brown and the baby began to cry.

There was no time.

When Jake and Neytiri awoke to the cries of their child, they were too late.

In their eyes, a dark hooded figure stood at the balcony with their baby in his arms. Before Jake can reach him, the hooded figure jumps off and into the dark forest.

Neytiri cried, not believing what just happened. Jake was quick to call out the night guards. Alarms were sounded, tsu’tey was quick to gather his army to search for the thief who stole their sun.

18 years later

“Get your ass over here!” Z-dog, a professional female thief, growls at the little brat who seems to be taking his sweet ass time. Opening the top trap door that led straight down to the golden crown that was heavily guarded. Lyle, her partner in crime, was also getting impatient.

“Just a sec….wow……this view is nice, very nice…..guys I want my own castle” a young boy spoke. Age 14 and already making a long list of crimes against the kingdom. This will be the biggest one yet.

“When we do this job, you can have you own castle” lyle grits his teeth as he yanks lo’ak back to the missions. Tying the rope on his waist, they lower lo’ak down to the crown room.

Quickly he shoves the gold crown into the satchel until one of the guards sneezes loudly.

“Ugh, day fever?” lo’ak asks.

“Yeah” the guard answers casually. Until he realized what just happened. Looking up, he and the other guards saw lo’ak being pulled back up and quickly make a run for it.

“What a great day to be aliiiiiiiiiiiiive!!” lo’ak shouts as he, z-dog and lyle run across the bride that connects the forest and the kingdom.

The three ran fast at top speed. They already knew the royal guards were on their way to hunt them down. Capital punishment awaits them. tulkun might get some leeway. He really only wanted adventure, but for sure he does not want to really suffer the consequences.

As they ran for it, they halted to a dead end. Hearing the soldiers nearing, acting quick was needed.

“Give me a boost and I will pull you both up,” Tulkun said in a hurry.

Z-dog and lyle looked at each other and then at him.

“Give us the satchel first” z-dog says as she reaches for it.

Looking quite offended, Tulkun places a hand over his chest, “I cant….after all we have been together, you guys still dont trust me?”

Dead looks was all he was given.

“Ouch”

He gives the satchel to z-dog and the three were quick to holl up lo’ak. Purposely stepping in z-dogs face as he reaches the top.

“Now help us up, pretty boy” she demands while reaching her hand up.

“Sorry, but my hands are full” tulkun smirks while holding the satchel and makes a run for it.

“What the- TULKUUUUUUUUUUN!!”

That was close, way too close for tulkun’s liking. Tsu’tey was close to seeing his face. If he did then its game over. For now, he will have to lie low, no doubt his family will be worried to death about him. His parents are way too protective. They will be even more once he gets back. Not something he looks forward to.

For now, he found a little cave that was actually a little entryway to a tower. How long was that there?

Not giving much thought he was quick to climb the tower and shut the doors[?] windows. Finally being able to be at peace, he opens the satchel to see the golden crown. Sighing in relief.

“Hello at last-”

Darkness was all he saw.

“Who are you and how did you find me?”

Miles demanded to know from the young stranger. Tied to the chair, miles made sure his long dreads were enough to make sure the invader didn't escape. Who the hell was he to just climb into someone's tower unannounced? And talking to themselves?

Father was right, there are crazy people out there.

“Is this….all hair?” the stranger asked as he looked at his long dreads.

“Hey! I asked you first! Answer!” miles shouts. Holding the pan tightly, he points it at the stranger. His little friend, payakan climbs on the pan, looking dead in the eyes of the stranger.

“Is that a blue lizard…?” the stranger asks another question. Do all strangers keep on asking questions?

“Hey! I get to ask questions here, not you! Got that?” Miles narrows his eyes trying to look as threatening as possible. The stranger rapidly shook his head agreeing.

Miles starts to walk around the stranger while swinging his pan.

“So stranger, have you come for my hair? Cut it? Sell it?” he begins to accuse.

The stranger looks at him confused.

“What? No! Look, I came here to hide because a horse is on my ass! And now I have to-wait wait! My satchel! Where is my satchel!?”

Crossing his arms, confidently smiling, miles responds “I’ve hidden in, somewhere where you will never find it”

The stranger looks to his left, “It's hidden in that pot, isn't it?”

BANG!

Tulkun woke up once again, this time feeling something wet in his ear. Turning he sees the weird blue lizard outstretching his long tongue in his ear. Feeling grossed out, he shouts, “STOP THAT!!” startling the lizard.

“Now I’ve hidden it somewhere you’ll never find it” the weird boy says.

“Now back to the main question, how did you find me?” the boy asks again.

“Look, in all honesty, I was running through the forest ok? I have an army at my ass and a horse! Just give me the crown back and I will leave. Alright?” tulkun replies honestly.

The weird boy, or guy since he looks older, stares at him confusingly.

“Wait, you don't want my hair?” he asks.

“Why on earth would I want your hair? Actually, why do you even want your hair this long? Don't you have a knife or scissors in this place?”

The weird guy didn't say anything. Walking away at some distance to talk to his blue lizard friend. Whispering some stuff he couldnt make out. However, using that time to try and free himself. No use, the guy tied him up pretty dang good.

“Alright, it seems you are saying the truth. Now to important matters, look over here” the guy says as he shifts his hair for the chair to move, making him land on his face.

Lifting a curtain aside, the boy reveals a beautiful painting on top of an empty chimney. It showed a dark blue sky with lanterns floating up in the sky.

“Do you know what these are?” the guy asks.

“The lanterns? Yeah, they do that for the lost prince” tulkun says automatically. No real emotion behind it. Holding in his indifferent feelings for that specific day. His face is starting to hurt against the floor. Trying to push himself up, he couldn't hear what the guy said. Until suddenly he was being lifted up.

“I have a deal I want to make,” the weird guy said.

Take him to see the lanterns and in return he gets the crown back. No big deal. Seems simple enough. Except for one thing.

“WOOOOHOOOOOOOO!!

“What have I done?”

“I LOVE THS!!”

“What if he finds out??”

“I DONT CARE!!”

“I am horrible”

“I FEEL GREAT!!”

“I'm going back, i'm a horrible son”

“I AM NEVER GOING BACK!!”

Tulkun didn't think he would also be a babysitter. Damn, and he thought his sister was terrible with mood swings. This weird guy clearly is older than him yet acts just like his baby sister who is 3.

After what felt like centuries, the weird guy calms down but not in high spirits.

“It seems you seem to be in turmoil. Look, it does seem a lot. But from the bits I heard, it seems you got a protective father, leaving without telling, talking to a stranger whom you never met and now going somewhere that you need to rely on said stranger to get there. This is pretty serious stuff you know”

The weird guy just stares at him.

“Part of life you know. Kinda late but it seems you are going through what I like to call “fuck the rules” phase. Personally I hope it's not a phase. Normal stuff” tulkun continues to say while simultaneously shoving the blue lizard off his shoulder.

“Really…?” the guy asks.

“Yup, but this might make your dad upset. Hell, break his heart and crush his soul even. But its fine”

“Wait, you are gaslighting me aren't you” the weird guy was picking up on what tulkun was trying to do.

“I tried” tulkun answered honestly.

“No, we are going to see those lights,” the weird guy says, standing up for himself.

“Oh yeah? What I don't want anymore?” tulkun mocks him.

“I will use this” the pan was pointing at him again.

“Ugh, fine”

“Miles”

“Hm?”

“My name is miles. I forgot to tell you my name earlier” miles says.

“Oh nice….”

“What is your name?” miles asks.

“......its tulkun”

Miles heard that slight hesitation. Perhaps its not his real name.

“Cool, this is payakan. My one and only friend”

Payakan stands on miles’s left shoulder, glaring at tulkun.

“He really doesnt like me, does he?” tulkun eyes at the reptile.

“Eh, he will warm up to you. Now, what was that place called again?” miles claps his hands, getting a little hungry.

“It's called recom port. Best steaks and cold drinks. Hits the spot all the time. And the folks there are super friendly” tulkun says. Smirking inwardly. Surly that place will scare miles back to his little tower.

Wherever miles goes, tulkun can't help but notice how it was so easy to bring in people. The recom outcasts were super friendly towards him! And they hated tulkun! The hell?! Even worse, miles managed to have them all sing for hours non-stop. Tulkun is just so done. He wants the crown and go back home. Screw with whatever punishment his dad will give him. He can take it.

Even worse since miles somehow tamed that demon of a horse.

“Awe, such a good girl aren't you….zeze!” miles coos at the light blue horse. Reading the collar the fowl beast has.

Zeze was wagging her tail like some dog. Ready to comply with whatever miles tells her.

“You cant be serious, that thing is capable of murder!!” tulkun tries to reason with miles.

“Did she kill?”

“Umm…no but I wouldn't doubt it!

Miles rolls his eyes and continues to pet zeze.

“Look, we are tired from walking and zeze seems to have a lot of energy. Why not ride her the rest of the way? It's a win-win. What do you think, big girl? Want to blow off some steam?” Miles suggests to the hell beast who neighs in agreement.

“Oh you have got to be kidding me” tulkun rolls his eyes. He would rather walk on hot rocks than deal with her.

“Come on, it will be easier. Look, I can tell you both dont get along but please just until we get to the lights? Please?” miles pleads.

Zeze seems to side with him, offering her hoof, she and tulkun shake in agreement.

“Wonderful! Now lets get on!” miles says happily as he climbs on zeze. Payakan sitting on zeze’s head getting a good view and tulkun sits behind miles.

“Have you ever rode on a horse before?” tulkun asks.

“Nope, first time! HIYAH!”

Zeze takes off, letting the winds hit their faces and excitement filling their lungs.

It was amazing! Miles has never seen this many people before! And they all live together in smaller yet wider towers? So cool! And the food! So delicious! More books to read, new music to listen to. It was so perfect.

A kind lady even gifted him a small flat with a sun design and a flower. He admires the pretty flower until he sees other people laying their flowers in front of an interesting mural.

“It's for the lost prince” a child says to their baby sibling.

Lost prince?

Miles takes a good look at the mural. There stood two proud looking people. A man and a woman, wearing fancy looking clothing. In the woman's arms was a baby. A child who is smiling and have lovely golden hair and blue eyes.

“Poor baby…” miles mutters. He places his flower on the base of the mural. Whoever the baby is, hopefully he comes back to his family soon.

Night came and tulkun managed to get a small boat for them to the surrounding moat. The lanturn festival was about to begin. Tulkun look to see miles not smiling anymore.

“Hey, you ok..? Feeling excited?” he asks.

“Feeling kind of terrified actually…” miles confesses.

Tulkun tilts his head, “how come?”

“All my life, for as long as I can remember I look at my window and see beautiful stars in the sky. Always wondering what they were. And here I am, about to see the truth….I'm scared to be disappointed”

Tulkun, understanding his new friend, places an arm over his shoulder.

“Nothing wrong with being disappointed. In the end, you will get to see what is more than the stars as you call them”

Miles smiles a bit, “and what if they are? What then?”

“That is the fun part I guess. It opens a path for a new journey”

Neytiri straights jake’s outcoat, making him presentable. Her eyes meet his. Sadness and sorrow are all there is. No words are needed to be said. She knows. What is supposed to be a joyous day has now become a sad tradition for all.

They meet their children on the balcony, all holding their own lanterns. Yet, neytiri and jake notice their third son is missing. It was just putting more salt on the wound.

Taking the lead, they light up their lantern and together they let it go. The royal children followed. Moments after, all of the kingdom let go of their lanterns. The darkened sky now filled with lanterns, all goes at their own pace.

Neytiri and jake hold each other close while holding their children. Their hopes depleting each year. The hope that one day, their first child would return home. That hopefully their son would find these lanterns and use them as a guide back to them.

But its been 18 years. A grown adult by now.

They make sure their children know of their big brother, and how he would have loved each and everyone of them. Their children never doubted that.

“He will come home this time, right mama….?” The first princess asks her mother as she stares at the lanterns. Every year she asks the same question. Every year, neytiri answers the same thing.

“He must”

Miles was in awe. The lanterns were so beautiful! Each one was different yet all burned brightly.

“I finally know the truth…” he says.

Tulkun hears this……

“Lo’ak” he speaks.

“Hm?”

“My real name is Lo’ak, tulkun was just a disguise name…” lo’ak admits.

“Why?” miles asks, curious to know.

“My family….well my parents to be precise. Are very protective. Like super protective. Cant go anywhere without someone spying on me or my siblings…” lo’ak says with what sounds like defeat in his voice.

“You see….I have an older brother and two younger sisters. My parents however, had a son before my big brother neteyam. Spider was his name. My parents said he was only 3 months old before a dark cloaked guy took him away. They never knew who he was or why the stranger took him. That night traumatized them for life. Dont get me wrong, it is sad. He would have been 4 or 5 years old by the time I was born. Its just….” lo’ak couldn't continue.

“So that is why you are rebellious…wanting to get out of their tight hold. Needing to breathe and just take risks for the fun of it” miles finishes for him.

Lo’ak looks at miles’s long hair.

“Yeah…but what about you? You never told me why you lived in that tall, isolated tower” lo’ak asks, wanting to change the subject.

“My dad….he too is overprotective. Growing up, he tells me all of the dangerous things that happen outside of the tower. Baby stealing ghouls, men with sharp teeth, diseases, blood sucking monsters. I was terrified. But in reality…he kept me there because of my hair…”

Miles moves his dreads to the side to reveal a short dark strand of hair.

“My hair….is what is keeping me alive. If cut, it affects my health. He doesn't know why, niether do I but…something like that, it has to be protected”

“So….you never left that tower?” lo’ak was astounded. Miles, a grown adult at this point, has never seen what life has to offer?

Miles nodded.

“And you still want to go back…?”

Miles looked to be contemplating on that question. But before could be said, near the dock was two unpleasantly familiar people.

“There, it will be just like it never happened” his dad says.

Miles was back at the tower. Any traces of him being outside was gone. Lo’ak left him and took the crown. Leaving him vulnerable to two dangerous strangers who wanted to cut his hair for higher value. If it wasn't for his dad finding him, who knows what could have happened.

“Hey, I will make that coup you like so much, that will lift your spirits up” his dad was exiting his room.

“Look son, I know it seems unfair but you have to understand. Not everything is bright and good. Terrible people who sees any trace of goodness, they will destroy it no matter what” with that, he goes downstairs.

Leaving miles alone. He stares at the paintings he has done on the ceiling. Why do they look familiar?

Pulling out the little flag he still kept, he compares the sun to the familiar shapes.

“What the…?” why do his painting have the sun symbol?

Suddenly, he got a massive headache.

Memories of a past he didn't know he had came flooding in.

“WAIT WAIT DAD!! YOU DONT GET IT!!” lo’ak shouts as he tries to fight back his uncle figure tsu’tey. The other night he was knocked out by z-dog and lyle, tying him on a canoe with the crown. Now being punished, he was to be sent to a neighboring kingdom as a form of punishment for stealing a royal crown.

Jake, having had enough of his son's lies, false promises, and fake sympathy, didnt want to hear him anymore.

“Hopefully this will teach you a lesson son. You knew how important that crown was. Stealing was the last straw "Jake says. His family beside him, none wanting lo’ak to go but it was necessary.

“NO!! YOU DONT GET IT!! THEY TOLD ME!! HE IS ALIVE!! DAMN IT!! IM SORRY UNCLE!!” with a quick hit with his head, lo’ak managed to free himself from tsu’tey. Acting fast he made a run for it.

“ZEZE!!” he calls out. The majestic yet beastly horse answers his call, he climbed onto her.

Tsu’tey calls his soldiers to follow lo’ak, his family yelling to come back. “HE IS ALIVE!! SPIDER IS ALIVE!!” was all lo’ak said before zeze ran faster, heading straight to the forest. This whole time, this whole time! His big brother is alive!! He has a lot to make up for right now, lo’ak needs to get him out of the tower and away from the stranger miles calls ‘father’.

There was so much blood. Miles didnt know how to heal him. He wanted to save lo’ak, save him, tell him of his newfound revelation! Yet his dad has him tied to chains like some feral animal.

“That is enough! You are going somewhere far more hidden! Somewhere where you won't even see the sunlight!” his father says. Miles can hardly recognize him anymore. All he sees is a scary, tall man who sees miles as some golden item rather than a human being.

Yet miles fought back, as best as he could. Lo’ak is dying,he needs to do something!

“Let me heal him please!” miles begs. Tears ran down his face.

“Let me heal him, and you and I will be together. Just like we always have. Please dad, let me save him”

His dad saw lo’ak laying still, thinking he won't last long. He ties a chain to his ankle, just incase the brat gets any ideas of following them. Miles was quick, panicking but doing his best to close the wound.

“Miles…” lo’ak whispers weakly, “dont…I can let you…” he tries his hardest to say,

“I cant let you die…” miles whispers, more tears falling out.

Lo’ak gets closer as if to tell miles something, however, in a surprise move, he cuts miles hair.

“Lo’ak!! What did you…!!” his was was quick to turn a dark brown, his dreads also losing their golden color.

“NO!!! WHAT DID YOU DO?! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU HAVE DONE!?” the mad man shrieks. In a hurry he tries to collect the hair, not carrying where he is stepping. He tangles himself in the dreads, unknowingly wrapping himself. In a daze he trips.

Over the tower’s window.

Falling to his death. His screams are now silent.

Miles couldn't comprehend what just happened. Yet he had to focus on lo’ak.

“Im sorry….brother….” lo’aks arms went limp, his eyes closed.

“No no no!! Stay with me lo’ak! Please!!” miles cries out loud. Now he truly is alone. No friend, no father, no one. Just himself. He lets his tears fall on lo’aks wound.

“Please save him…!! I beg you!! Save him!!” miles didnt know to who he was calling to. To himself? To some holy being? Perhaps he was already losing his mind now that he lost his golden hair. Or perhaps, not all is lost…

Bright light flooded the tower from the outside. Its light radiating warmth, reminds miles that of the lanterns. Bright yet gentle. It was like being swaddled in a blanket. The light surrounded him and lo’ak. His hair, although now messy, its golden color returned. The light touches lo’ak’s wound, sealing it, healing him.

Just as it has appeared, the light has dispersed. As if it never did.

Holding in his breathe, miles looks over at lo’ak, hoping to see something.

A cough was heard, more coughs, and a scruff.

“Oh fuck…did I hit something?” Lo’ak asks as he sits up.

Miles shouts in happiness. Hugging lo’ak tightly, he says his thanks to the mysterious light that saved his friend. His brother.

Quickly, neytiri and jake along with their children make haste to the balcony where tsu’tey said was where he was waiting.

They all hold hands tightly, reassuring one another that this is real, its not a dream.

Opening the doors, they see lo’ak. Beside him was someone jake and neytiri thought they would never see.

A young, tall man with short yet very familiar golden hair stood before them. Wide, sparkly blue eyes that can rival the sky. His familiar smile, his aura radiant of warm happiness. This is him.

“Spider…” neytiri whispers, getting closer to him. Touching his cheeks, his hands, his ears, hair, everything.

“It is you…my spider, my son” she confirms. A mother could never mistake her child.

Hugging him close, she cries out in joy. Jake followed soon after her. Holding his son after so many years. Kissing his head, hearing his heartbeat. Their son has returned.

“You did find him…” jake says to lo’ak.

Lo’ak smiles, joining in the hug, not saying much as to let his parents have this moment.

“Come come my children, meet your big brother! He is home!” neytiri gestures her three other children, neteyam, kiri and tuk. The three join in one massive group hug.

This is what miles, or now, spider, wanted. To feel truly loved. This is his family, may take some time getting used to, but spider truly felt at home with them. For they are warm and radiant, like that of the sun.

Aaaaaaaaaand that is it for this one! Hope you all liked it! Until next time! See ya!

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queenie-official · 2 months ago

Text

✨🎉Series completion celebration🎉✨

‘Summer Love’ Series Masterlist

RAAAAH ITS FINALLY COMPLETED GUYS 💃🥳from the sky drop like confetti🦟🦗🦟🦗✨

i said this when i first made a post about the series but i want to do a celebration event! the big thing being a Q&A

you guys can ask me anything in regards to the series! also feel free to ask me whatever you want just be kind and mindful!

send in literally as much as you want i’ll answer them all🙂‍↕️

i’m going to wait a few days for the asks to come in before i answer them all so i’m going to leave the opportunity for you to send in questions open until Thursday, though you absolutely still can send stuff in the day of!

any asks sent afterwards i’ll of course still answer but it won’t be included in the event post (i plan on stock piling a link to all the asks onto this post, i think it’s a fun way to let all of you shine🪩✨ a proper thank you for all the kind support and love 💋)

please keep in mind that any asks sent in (excluding fic requests which i’ll answer as i write) won't be answered until the actual post event. (provided anybody actually participates lol)

the next celebration event i’m going to do is release some of the dialogue and concepts i ended up cutting from the final story!

i’ve kept a whole folder of stuff in my notes specifically for this, screenshots of discussions about the story as well as the conversations that inspired the story 🤭

i’ll post that sometime after the q&a event, i personally love seeing behind the scenes details like this so i wanted to give that for the fellow Gorgey Huns who do as well Xx <3

all of this is just a little cherry on top of the series, you know next to the bonus smut oneshot i’ll be writing

i’m going to tag all the pookies who wanted to be tagged for the series Xx

tag list: @anakinskwkler @anakinstwinklebunny @divineani @huayan @poppysrin @bxbyysstuff @dollhobigem @skywalkercinema @corio-letit-snow @avatarobsessedgirly @kelsxxyawn @7xss @throughparisallthroughrome @humongouscatfest @rhiannonhippiegirl @akixxrafiiy @ter-luer @w0rsh1psells @bulllsseye @anitaxl @everydaydreamer

thank you all for reading and supporting love you 🫶🏼🫶🏼

#Spotify #hayden christensen #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #star wars anakin #modern!anakin skywalker #modern!obi wan #modern anakin skywalker #camp au!anakin #camp au #college anakin skywalker #college au #college anakin #anakin and obi wan #anakin and ahsoka #anakin and padme #summer love series #queenie’s thoughts xx<3

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schuylerpeck · 10 months ago

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spring writing: renewal! rebirth! what a brave thing to fight your way through the dark and bloom! hello, birds. hello, color. something very small is fluttering in my chest and I can feel it grow with every day that passes. blue sky, it is so good to see you again—so fresh and spotless, I could drink every drop of you.

summer writing: I'm made young again with every shared late night of laughter, every bike ride through the full trees. as soon as the weather warms, I burst like a confetti popper in every direction—long weekends camping, a road trip up the coast, kneeling in the garden, and powdered sugar at the fair.

fall writing: the wind picks up and pulls a long sigh out of me. oh, I remember. I dance in circles with the crimson leaves; kiss the sun before she calls it an early night. the warmth lasts until it doesn't, but not until after I've plucked apples from the tree tops and take one last plunge into the lake. maybe I'll be better at goodbyes next year.

winter writing: the snowbanks sparkle like dusted stars. some days, it feels I’ve aged overnight. I pace between the warm blankets and the windows; drawn to sleep and simplicity. I will not utter the word scared. my favorite sweater with the wine stain, the mittens I was gifted at sixteen. my breath waves back at me in the morning and I invite my friends for dinner by candlelight. seeing their smiles beam back, I'm reminded again, how it is we make it.

#poetry #poems #spilled ink #quotes #winter #spring #fall #autumn #summer #writers on tumblr #schuyler peck

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liaromancewriter · 2 months ago

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Perfect Day

Premise: When the leaves turn, it’s time for childhood fun.

Book: Open Heart (post series) Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Cassie Valentine); feat. Max Valentine Rating/Category: Teen. Fluff. Words: 930

A/N: I wanted to write this fic last Fall, but I couldn't seem to do it. It's not officially Autumn in my part of the world, yet, but this weekend feels like it as the temps drop. I'm using prompt 1 from @creativepromptsforwriting's Grumpy-Sunshine dialogue prompts. Tagging for reblog to @creativepromptfills

It was a perfect Fall day. Crisp air, a clear blue sky, the sun hanging low, casting a golden glow over the backyard blanketed with fallen leaves from the old oak tree. Their vibrant hues—reds, oranges, and yellows—created a kaleidoscope of color on the ground. Still more fell, raining down on the little girl captivated by the magic of the season.

Six-year-old Cassie Valentine turned her face up to the sky, arms spread wide as she spun in circles, laughing when errant leaves grazed her forehead before drifting to the soft ground.

Her twin brother Max whooped and hollered like a banshee, leaping into the largest pile. His maniacal laughter stood in stark contrast to her joyful giggles. The leaves crunched under his weight, releasing an earthy scent reminiscent of the changing seasons.

Not wanting to miss out on the fun, Cassie charged forward, sharing a mischievous glance with Max.

They leaped into the air together, seeming to float for a second, and then, with a soft whoosh, landed in the pile, leaves flying around them and their laughter echoing through the yard.

The crunch beneath them was satisfying, a symphony of fall, and they both giggled uncontrollably as they sank into the colorful mound. They took turns burying each other, tossing handfuls of colorful leaves into the air just to watch them flutter down like confetti.

Cassie lay on her back, flailing her arms as if making a leaf angel, while Max jumped from pile to pile. Eventually, he grew tired and flopped down beside her, his head resting against hers.

They lay there side by side, staring at the slowly darkening sky. The sound of rustling leaves in the gentle breeze and their steady breathing were the only things breaking the peaceful silence.

“Best day ever,” Max said with a grin, showing off the gap in his front teeth.

“Best season ever,” Cassie whispered, sighing in contentment.

At that moment, the world was just them, the leaves and the endless possibilities of a perfect autumn day.

Many years later…

There was no season quite like Fall, thought Cassie. And her adopted hometown of Boston was a sight to behold when the seasons changed and the leaves turned.

The city hummed quietly in the distance, but here in the wide expanse of Boston Common, the sounds were a symphony of children laughing, branches rustling in the wind, and squirrels scurrying from tree to tree.

The winding paths were blanked with a patchwork of Autumn hues—red, gold, amber. The ancient trees seemed to bow overhead, shaking loose leaves that drifted lazily to the ground.

Leaves crunched beneath her boots, a satisfying sound that reminded her of childhood pleasures and a time of innocence.

She glanced sideways at her husband, his brow furrowed in deep thought, her hand warm in his. A sudden idea sparked. Ethan Ramsey could use some fun.

Cassie tugged at his hand, ignoring his startled shout as she dragged him toward the piles of leaves scattered across the green.

Her eyes sparkled with laughter as she gathered handfuls of leaves and tossed them over his head. A red leaf stuck to his hair, and his exasperation was evident in the way he stared at her.

Cassie grinned mischievously, daring him with her eyes. Ethan slowly plucked the red leaf from his hair, almost nonchalantly, but his laser blue eyes glittered with challenge.

In one swift motion, Ethan bent down, scooped up a pile of leaves and tossed them in her direction.

“This means war,” he warned, his voice playful as he grabbed another handful.

Cassie shrugged, unfazed and tossed a ball of leaves straight at his face. “Bring it!”

Ethan shook his head, raising one hand in mock surrender. But with the other, he swiftly swung a handful of leaves toward her, like a pitcher letting a ball fly. Cassie squealed, trying to dodge the cascade of red, orange, and yellow foliage as it sailed toward her.

Her laughter echoed through the park as she darted behind a nearby tree, peeking around it with a grin. Ethan pursued, grabbing more leaves and flinging them toward her, the cool breeze carrying some of them away before they landed.

“You can do better than that, babe,” she teased, her eyes sparkling.

With a laugh, Ethan finally closed the gap between them, gently tackling her into a pile of leaves, collapsing into the soft mound, their cheeks flushed and hearts pounding from the spontaneous game.

They lay there for a moment, leaves tangled in their hair, the cool, damp earth pressing gently through their coats.

Cassie turned to Ethan, still breathless with laughter.

“For the record, I won,” she teased, nudging him playfully.

Ethan chuckled, shaking his head. “Looks like a draw from where I’m sitting—”

His words cut off as he sputtered, Cassie burying him under an armful of leaves.

“Now, I won for sure!” she declared, her voice triumphant.

Ethan smiled, his eyes softening as he pulled her toward him, his hands gently gripping her arms. In one smooth motion, he rolled her over, their faces inches apart, the world around them fading into the crisp autumn air.

“I think you're right,” he murmured, his voice low, “You’re definitely the only person I would do this for.”

He closed the distance between them, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that felt as natural as the falling leaves.

In that moment, there was no winning, no losing—just the two of them, lost in the magic of a perfect autumn day.

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

All Fics & Edits: @bluebelle08 @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @jerzwriter @justyourusualash

@lady-calypso @kyra75 @mainstreetreader @peonierose @potionsprefect

@queencarb @quixoticdreamer16 @snoopdogcone @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction

Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Ethan & Cassie only: @cariantha @custaroonie @youlookappropriate

#open heart #ethan ramsey #choices open heart #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x mc #open heart fanfic #open heart fanfiction #playchoices #choices fanfic #choices fanfiction #ethan ramsey x cassie valentine

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boxofthings · 1 year ago

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Originally was gonna write 09 soaproach angst but decided to fulfill this request that was sent months ago (anon I'm so sorry but if you're still around I hope you enjoy!)

This was heavily inspired by THIS art post by @miilkybnn (it hurts me deeply)

09 ghostsoaproach for all you masochists :)

Read on AO3

-- -- --

He can feel the painful snap of his fingernails underneath gloves that claw desperately into rust. The roof tile comes away from the sudden pressure of his weight.

There's heavy smoke in his lungs, and if the universe had given him an extra ounce of precious time, maybe he'd let the smell funnel down into his stomach, imagining for just a moment that it tasted like Villa Clara's.

His heart races as the hand that shoots out for him falls short by mere inches, and his body drops to the ground in a blackened hush.

It doesn't help that their worried voices screech into his shock-delirious brain as he comes to. If he were a less determined man, he'd stay right where he was, admit defeat and fall right back into that blissful, unconscious nothing.

"Roach!"

But he's not. Because despite his wounds, his defeats, his lack of a weapon, and the sheer absurdity of his chances of survival—he wants to live.

And if not that, then at least he wishes hopelessly to have a sendoff with blue and brown eyes to watch over him like guardian angels.

He pulls himself to his feet, limbs screaming at him for mercy, and he runs like it'll be the last time he ever will, and it just might well be.

Bullets and their casings fly through the air like deadly confetti, and Roach can only push forward as the captain's poignant concern rings deep in his ears.

He's probably been shot—multiple times likely, but there's a red over his mind that pumps wild adrenaline through his body. He wonders if, from the safety of the carrier, he must look like a madman.

"Thirty seconds! We're runnin' on fumes here!"

If he makes it out of this, if he lives to tell the tale, this'll be one hell of a conversation starter—one for the history books, that's for sure.

His chest is beginning to burn, and he can feel the familiar, dreadful indication that his legs are starting to drag like stones.

Not yet.

The only thing that keeps his blood boiling with stubborn life is what awaits for him on that carrier, no doubt with bated breaths and mirrored anxieties.

Fifteen seconds.

Blades slice the air of the sky in pulsating waves; each gust feels like it hits Roach harder as he hangs onto his last drop of fuel like a fraying rope.

So close.

Sliding down the debris of the favelas, each bump another bruise to his body, he can only think of how hard he'll collapse after and if he makes that final leap.

"Jump for it!"

With his tank nearly empty, he musters the remaining energy he has and jumps with his whole heart in his throat. The murky waters below will not be as merciful as the ground of militia-ridden streets.

His fingers make jarred contact with the ladder of the carrier, and he clings to it with heaving breaths that rattle his entire body. In his ear, he hears the sharp intake of a gasp as Nikolai flies them further away from the chaos of gunfire.

He's alive. And he's damn well feeling it if his aching bones and bleeding flesh have anything to say for it.

As soon as he's dragged into the opening of the Pave Low, a deadly grip yanks him into a shuttering embrace.

The lieutenant says nothing at first, only holding him with a restlessness typically reserved for dying men.

"Fuckin' hell."

Fucking hell's right. He falls into Ghost's solid weight with laboured limbs and a pounding heart. If, from now on, the captain decides to bench him for his deficiency in acrobatics, he's not so sure he'll protest.

Behind him, he can feel how Soap's eyes pierce scrutinizing daggers into his back, and he fears the tongue-lashing he'll receive as soon as he turns around.

But when he finally releases from Ghost's arms and meets icy blues, there's a pause in the air from the silence that meets him.

Mouth set in a grim line, fists clenched at his sides, the captain is the epitome of tension. As he watches Roach longer with that look of grievance, his head hangs, shaking it frustratingly and turning away to speak to Nikolai.

Roach can't help how his heart drops down to his stomach, shame pooling hotly down his throat.

The post-adrenaline rush makes his head float, and he's not too certain he didn't earn a concussion from that fall. A shaky exhale takes with it the muscles that keep him standing, and all of a sudden, he feels the brittleness of his bones.

"Bug," Ghost says, hand intertwining with his, pulling him down gently to sit next to him.

Roach acquiesces easily, slumping down like a sack of flour.

His lieutenant holds his hand tighter, and Roach leans his head on the older's shoulder.

Despite this victory, he can't help but feel the looming fear of what will come next. His injuries hurt terribly, but he's content to sit like this for just a little bit, pretending for just a moment that everything will be okay.

– – –

The safe house they hunker down in becomes blanketed in a constricted silence as they wait for US forces to transfer them to their next location.

The captain ushers him to the kitchen, first aid kit supplies already splayed out on the table.

Roach feels the beginnings of a timer go off in the space between them.

His commanding officers bracket him, dabbing saline into his wounds and applying gauze over the reds that spread across his skin.

It's only when Soap begins to wrap bandages around his middle does the air around them suddenly freeze into a tangible outrage.

"You bloody fool," he hisses, fingers ripped away from the bandages and digging urgently into the flesh of his arms.

Beside him, Ghost goes still.

"Just how many jumps are you going to miss until it kills you?"

There it is, the bated agony that masks itself as scorn—the dam Roach had been anticipating to burst any minute since he'd made contact with that ladder.

There's anger in the air that feels sharp and critical, but Roach can't fight against it because the underlayer of that deadly heat swirls a deep, visceral anguish. Fear that threatens to rip them apart right through the heart.

"I-" his wretched throat scratches out. There are words he wants to say out loud, words that his captain and lieutenant deserve to hear, but that burn on his tongue trickles deep into his larynx, and it renders him quiet, like a pathetic coward in the face of blame.

"I'm sorry," his hands finish for him, fingers never heavier. And he watches as the captain's face falls so awfully, how the lieutenant turns away like he can't bear to watch him any longer.

Is this what they are doomed to be? Three lovers trapped in a perpetual cycle of fear and loathing, trapped in an echo chamber of a cacophonous "who will be next?"

There are no words to ease their ailing minds because, at the end of the day, who knows if and when they'll become lies?

A sigh. The hands gripped so tightly around his arms drop defeatedly.

Soap wordlessly exits the room, leaving Roach with a heavy tongue of unspoken atonements. The unfinished wrap of bandages feels like it scalds his skin.

Ghost looks back at him, eyes crushing but quietly soft, something only reserved for Roach and the captain.

He takes up the space Soap had emptied and continues where the other had left off, holding the bandages with sure hands.

"He's just worried," Ghost says as soon as the wrap is secured, helping him slowly put on his shirt.

Roach can't muster the will to look Ghost in the eye, which is a first for them.

The other takes both his hands into his, urging Roach's gaze to land on him.

"Just–be more careful, yeah?"

The fingers that smooth over his battered hands shake like there's an all-consuming dread that threatens to spill right out of every pore.

In a second, they retreat, replaced instead by the warmth of a full body wrapped around him in a desperate embrace.

"You have no idea how it felt, watching it all from the Pave Low."

It's so rare to hear his lieutenant speak so weakly. Such a voice did not suit Ghost, or perhaps it did, as how else were battered and spent soldiers meant to sound? But Roach did not like knowing he was the cause for it.

"You're one hell of a fighter, bug."

So are you, he wants to say, but he knows Ghost won't care for it.

It's not just the sheer, dumb luck that keeps him alive. It's the two men he found at the wrong and right time, in the midst of a war that offers them no comforting promises for the future, but also bringing a lightness at a time where his life had never felt so dark.

He doesn't want to lose this.

He sees a small grin begin to imprint on the lieutenant's balaclava.

At the arch of Roach's brow, he chuckles minutely.

"It's just funny, 'innit? How the roles 'ave swapped." Ghost's eyes crinkle in soft reminiscence. "Years ago, it would've been me stormin' out that door."

Roach mirrors his smile. He remembers the start of it all, how the captain had so readily accepted Roach's affections, open and carefree, before the stakes of war had tipped so precariously to where it was now.

"Probably be needin' me to swoop in and save yer arse wherever we go," the captain had said after Roach had bashfully pressed cold lips to warm ones in an impulsive confession of love.

It was so easy to talk to Soap, as he was everything Roach had strived to be and more. A stable force in his life that made him feel nearly invincible.

And Ghost...well, he was much the opposite, almost averse to that same tenderheartedness that had won over the captain.

He remembers how he got shot, pushing the lieutenant out of harm's way, how the lieutenant had screamed at him once they arrived back on base, how Soap had held him back, and how distraught Roach had felt once he'd stormed out the room, a sizzling anger that took Roach weeks to understand was, in reality, fear.

It's so strange to look back on now, to envision a Ghost who was so pent up with wrath it followed him wherever he went.

It makes him realize how much has changed—is still changing.

Ghost takes off his sunglasses, and like this, Roach can stare into pretty browns that gaze at him lovingly.

"Back then, I just never knew how to express my damn emotions."

Roach brings the lieutenant's face closer to him, kissing slowly regardless of the fabric that separates them.

"You do now, though," Roach signs when they break apart.

Ghost eyes crinkle when he smiles. "Only for you two."

– – –

Ghost had shooed him away when he tried to help clean up the mess of bloodied cotton balls and scattered gauze pads.

He'd taken this as his sign to seek out the captain. Pushing the door to the only bedroom slowly, like a child in worry of waking their parents.

Soap sits on the edge of the bed, hands clamped together with his head hung low—lost in turbulent thought. It shoots right up at the creak of the door hinge.

For a moment, neither man knows what to say, Roach shuffling closer till the older has to look up at him.

When he opens his mouth, the captain's arms shoot up to drag the sergeant down onto his lap in the tightest hug he's ever received from the other.

"God, you're so stupid," he whispers, head burying deep into Roach's chest as if he wanted to be merged with it. "Why'd I get assigned such a dafty for a sergeant?"

A melancholic lilt seeps to his lips as he rests his cheek on Soap's head.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, as sincere as his love is true.

Soap's head lifts, hands flying to Roach's face, and he can see the desperate ache in those eyes.

"Don't be sorry, you oaf. You nearly died." The crack in the captain’s voice strikes a chord so deep in Roach’s chest that it almost makes him cry.

There's a weight that sits like a thousand marble statues on the captain's shoulders, and with each passing day, Roach sees as that load drags heavier behind him.

"Funny how history repeats itself. First mission with my captain, nearly falling to my death. First mission as captain with my sergeant doing the exact same."

He'd said it right after their first stint in Kazakhstan.

It was meant as a jest to lighten the post-haze of a near-death experience, but Roach had seen the slight cynicism in the captain's eyes that he had yet to pick apart.

Weeks later, he'd sit outside the base during the quiet of the night, with MacTavish's cigar flicking soft light into the darkness, and understand, for the first time, that the captain was just a man, just like him. A soldier with burdens like everyone else.

"With every man that I lose on a mission is another ghost that haunts me when I go to sleep."

"It's not your fault," the sergeant had said then, and meant it earnestly, because how could Captain John MacTavish—the man who'd jump after you if you fell into a pool of molten lava if it meant even the slightest chance of saving you—ever be to blame for the death of a soldier?

But it was more than just that. It was the spectre of a past mentor, one that left daunting footsteps to fill that Soap had fought with every breath to satiate with justice.

It had made the beast of a man before him appear so painfully human, and Roach had only yearned for him more because of it.

Now, as they hold each other, Roach can see how that weight must feel like the most crippling force. And he knows how deeply every failure hits the other like real bullets.

When he'd nearly drifted off in the Pave Low, he'd caught the tail-end of a hushed exchange between Ghost and Soap. Voices tense, waiting to snap any minute.

"I couldn't catch him," the captain had muttered, broken off and deprecating.

Soap picks at the hem of Roach's shirt, inhaling sharply when he sees the bandage peek out.

"One day," he starts, and it's melancholic yet intimate like Soap had thought of it a million times. "There'll be a mission where I won't be there to catch you."

Roach frowns, seeing that familiar burden of responsibility that the captain readily throws onto his shoulders.

"It's not your job to."

Fists clench around his shirt.

"Yes, it is," he says fiercely. "If not as your captain, then-"

His mouth hangs open, words caught in the emptiness of the air around them, and Roach can't bear to look at that awful anguish in Soap's eyes.

Then as someone who loves you.

It makes his chest hurt how easy it all was before—or maybe not easy, but how much less consequential their actions meant back then—when their love had only been labelled as one-off jokes, when the task force wasn't stretched so thin and smaller than when it had started. When Roach could say he cared for someone and not have to worry whether they'd disappear to ash the next day.

"I'm sorry," Roach offers instead, "for making you worry." It feels like it's all he can say.

The smile he receives is bittersweet, but it's such a rarity nowadays to see anything happier. Even so, he wishes he could fix it—to smooth out those worry lines that make the other look so haggard.

The captain tilts his head, surging tentatively to capture Roach's lips in his own, and the kiss makes him think of everything that defines their relationship.

When rough lips touch his own, it's so familiar, like the nostalgia of a home that exists only in his mind. The tang of cigars and the bitterness of Earl Grey tea. How does he even begin to describe how intrinsically this love has changed him?

Such small things that he previously couldn't have cared less about now mean everything to him. And it makes him notice all the things that only he is meant to notice.

Like how Ghost prepares coffee in the mornings, despite preferring tea, all because the captain and himself once mentioned they only slightly prefer it to the latter.

Like how Soap begrudgingly supplies the base with that shitty off-brand version of Earl Grey that Ghost, for some reason, likes so much.

Like how when the lieutenant or sergeant go to bed aching, there's an unsuspecting bottle of painkillers and water glasses on their nightstands that they don't remember leaving there.

Like how little aspects of himself change to become a little bit more like the ones he loves.

Despite preferring coffee, he thinks he'd choose tea over it now.

And every time the captain offers out a cig, Roach easily declines because there's a much better way for him to enjoy the taste.

Every kiss they share is one that could be their last. So Roach savours every minute of it, commits to memory the feel of Soap's hands on his waist, the way the other breathes heavily as their lips intertwine in a longing embrace, the heat that emanates between them because the other is a living space heater, the way how every time, without fail, the touch of Soap's lips makes his heart soar like a teenage girl's on prom night.

I love you, he mouths against the other, and even though his soundless words disappear into the air, at least he knows the universe will bear witness to this truth.

"My sergeant," the captain purrs adoringly, and it makes the blood rush faster in his veins. "Just don't know when to die, do you?"

Their foreheads touch, an unspoken moment of peace between them that they pretend will keep them safe.

They know that today, they are alive, but tomorrow may not bring such luck.

The arms around his middle move to his thighs as Soap stands up abruptly, hoisting Roach up with him and moving towards the side of the bed.

Roach grins, wrapping strong arms around the captain's neck, even as he's laid down on soft sheets.

Soap pulls him till they're flush together, with Roach's back to his chest, and the older snakes an arm around his front, resting a hand atop Roach's heart.

"Just to make sure you're still alive by mornin'," Soap had joked the first time he did it. But it was after Roach had taken a nasty stab to the lung, and the captain's fixation with feeling for his heartbeat had not been lost on the sergeant at all.

"In pain?" he asks softly into the crook of the Roach's neck.

The younger shakes his head, exhaling soft exasperation.

"Sorry. Just can't help but worry."

Roach knows how that feels.

He lets his eyes droop to a close, letting his hand climb atop Soap's, intertwining them so that they lock together solidly on his steady pulse.

He breathes in the captain's grounding, pine scent and hopes with every fibre of his being that they'll be okay in the morning—that after this shitstorm passes, they'll make it out the other end only slightly dishevelled.

He always did have plans to introduce Soap and Ghost to his family one day.

– – –

Later, with his mind drowsy and battling the final drops of wakefulness, he'll feel the bed dip beside him along with Ghost's hushed "All good?" and the captain's answering kiss that calms the lieutenant's concern.

He'll lay in bed, held by two people he loves with all his heart, who love him just the same, and he'll thank the world for granting him this rare moment of tranquillity.

Tomorrow, they'll be extracted for their next operation. They'll break into the gulag and find whoever this prisoner is that Makarov hates so much, and who knows what will happen?

But until then, Roach will sleep, knowing that the two things important to him are safe next to him.

– – –

Brown eyes hidden behind a screen of shade, and Roach wishes he could rip them off.

His body aches, as does his heart.

Price's shouts carry over his earpiece, and he can't help but feel bitter.

He wishes to hear his captain's voice one last time, wishes for once in his life, Simon didn't wear those blasted sunglasses. He wishes, so pathetically, that it didn't end like this, with one piece of himself dead beside him and the other miles away.

His mind grasps at threads, trying to find comfort in the gaps where pain has not yet sullied.

Despite how lonely he feels, staring at the face of an already dead lover, he'll thank any God above that he'll join him soon, that at least two of them are adjoined, even in death.

In a way, all three of them are together, connected by a commlink that spans the entire distance of their longing, like a tether.

It's such a sad, desperate pull at a sliver of comfort, but it quiets Roach's aching chest just a little.

There's the tang of Earl Grey tea leaves on his tongue, and as he closes his eyes for the last time, he can imagine that the smoke that suffocates his lungs tastes like Villa Clara's.

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gripefroot · 1 year ago

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Would love to see Ace in Alabasta...

Being a man meant hunger.

Being a pirate meant stealing.

He’d been both long enough to source vulnerable stalls as second nature: which shopkeeper was distracted by other customers, which marketplace guards were lured on duty by pretty women, which wide-eyed child left to tend the family stalls while mother or father walked away to carry out other business. He avoided those on principle. No food, no matter how hollow his stomach, was worth leaving a child vulnerable to a temper.

Whistling, Ace made his way down the dusty street with his pack on his back and his head held high. Another strategy: everyone suspects the lurker in the shadows. No one suspects the smiling, good-natured fellow stopping for a chat. One that admires the produce but puts it back, and when you turn away another item has slipped into his pocket.

The stalls offered only thin victuals. A difference in only a few weeks. When he’d first made it to Alabasta, food had been accessible, if not bountiful. Now mushy apples were confettied with flies and bread made a thump on the dusty sand when fumbled.

He paused. A child sat on a stool in the shade, gnawing on an orange rind. Darkened by the shade cast by a striped awning that had seen better days; holes casting bright sunlight on the pouches of spices arranged on a table. The spices had been spread out, likely to seem like there was enough to cover the entire table, but it made the empty spaces seem larger.

The child stared at him, orange lowering from his mouth. Pulp stuck to his lips. Ace grinned, tipped his hat, and went on.

Well, maybe if he waited until tomorrow…

Another hungry night was survivable. He’d eaten a stack of meat-filled bread the day before and left without paying. And been promptly run out of town, rather enjoying the exercising but he would have enjoyed it with fewer scimitars brandished at his back.

The sun was hot. Too hot. His shoulders itched. Absently he scratched at them, making the burned flesh sting. Instead of food, shade. Fortune smiled on him: ahead, away from the market posh houses bore towering walls of turquoise and amber, rising from the sand. Ace whistled his way past the first few, nodding at the guards who eyed him as they eyed all strangers. At the end of the road, when the expanse of blue sky and yellow sand met on the horizon, he turned abruptly.

Last house out of town was never the richest. Almost never guarded. With a heave he jumped up to grab the top of the stone, burning hot in the sun. He scrambled up, boots scraping off dusty plaster from the stone. On the ledge he stopped in crouch, casting his eyes over a withering garden and a crooked house with crooked shutters.

Perfect. Ace dropped over.

May as well have a funeral for these trees. No leaves meant no shade. He wasn’t desperate enough to cower beneath broken branches. His boots thumped on a worn stone path, which took him around a dried up fountain and empty garden beds. Ace frowned. Well, he hadn’t expected much. Absently he scratched his shoulder again, this time flaking away dead skin.

No noise had come from the house, which meant he was safe. For now. Something itched his ears: he scratched those, too, but the itching remained. Not a feeling, a sound. He tilted his head before realizing it was a hive of bees, and it wasn’t far.

Bees. Bees meant honey.

So he’d get a snack after all.

Humming now, for himself and no one else, Ace found the hives within seconds. Next to the bones of a pagoda, curtains moth-eaten and faded; two once white-washed crates with bees crawling over the top and sides.

He grinned, lifting the first lid off. White waxy honeycomb oozed golden honey, the sweet fragrance all the more pungent in the heat of the afternoon. Ace swiped his pinky through the honey, bringing it to his mouth to suck it off.

“Jackpot,” he muttered.

His treasure was a foot-long frame positively dripping with the unctuous gold. He settled down with his back at the junction where the western wall met the walls of the house before sucking the honeycomb dry, swallow by swallow, leaving nothing sticky as bees flew lazily around his head as if offended by his pilfering but too hot to do anything about it.

“Thank you for the fine meal,” he said, to the bees at large, when the frame was clean. His hands needed cleaned, but with no water…the honey had made his throat burn from sweetness. Ace upturned his canteen over his mouth, letting the tepid water make a futile stand against the burning. Better than nothing.

The water disappeared from the sand and stone of the garden floor almost as soon as it fell. Soon no trace of his washing remained, sucked dry from his skin by the merciless heat. He capped the canteen, swinging it back to hang at his waist.

Swiiiish.

He cocked his head. From the desert? The street?

Swiiiiiiiiish.

No. Closer. The house. So it wasn’t abandoned, after all.

Abandoned by the rain that had abandoned the country. Abandoned by any sign of gardeners. But not abandoned by…

Dust puffed in the air from the second floor terrace of the house, shimmering against the azure expanse before drifting down to settle on a bare tree. Swiiiish. Another puff. Swiiiish. Another puff.

With the final cloud of dust he saw a pale-blue, tattered sleeve holding a broom.

The sweeping came closer. Closer still. The figure, barely visible between peeling columns, didn’t look particularly tall, even from below. Maybe a servant, but he doubted it. If he had to guess, based on the Alabasta he’d encountered over the last few weeks, it would be a hungry child from a once-great family, the fading-away of old blood to the sand.

The dust made it to his nostrils, making them tickle. Once more and it settled on his arms. Ace drew in a ragged breath, and gave a shriek.

The responding scream put his to shame. By the time it tapered off he was already howling with laughter, hat tipped up to show his victim that he meant no harm, that it was only a joke.

Something hard whacked his head. Ace yelped again, but for real, shielding himself from the battered attack as the broom smacked into him again and again. Sand and dust were everywhere, tickling his face and skin and sticking where he hadn’t cleaned the honey entirely.

“Ouch!”

“Serves you right! You menace!”

He grabbed at the broom, bristles cutting into the flesh of his palms. Good humor threatened, he glared up at his attacker, but only saw a pale, pinched face between the terracotta balusters. Not three feet above his head, but he could see when the eyes of his attacker widened. And the precise shade of them.

The broom gave a yank. Ace held on.

“I only want to know who to thank for my delicious meal,” he said.

“What—” The face pushed out further between the balusters. Not a child, as he’d half-expected, but a woman, the same pale-blue fabric over her head but not quite containing all of her hair. “You ate my honey!”

“So I have you to thank?” Ace grinned.

Her brows drew together, another futile yank on the broom. “Thank the bees.”

“I already did. And now I thank you.”

“If you really want to thank me—” She puffed, seizing her end of the broom with both hands for an enormous yank. It did nothing. Ace’s smile broadened. “—give me bread or butter or water or something.”

“I can do that,” Ace said.

She stopped pulling on the broom. Mesmerized by the shifting emotion on her face (irritation to surprise) he didn’t notice the silence falling between them like a shroud. She stared at him. He looked back.

“Do you live here alone?” he asked.

She shook her head, fingernails picking at the fraying handle of the broom. “I live here with my grandma. My parents died, but I—” Another shift. Stunned, horrified: the woman stood abruptly, dropping the broom to clatter on the stones of the garden. “Who are you! Get out!”

At least she didn’t have the broom to start hitting him again. Ace stood, stretching his arms overhead with a yawn. He scratched his belly, ridding it of dust. The shadow of the garden wall stretched its fingers, heralding the lengthening day. The market would be open a while yet. He might be luckier on a second pass.

Ace bent over to scoop up the broom. He proffered it to the woman, half-hidden behind a column and regarding him with wary eyes. “Here,” he said.

Like the shadows, the moment stretched. He smiled, taking a step closer. The broom brushed against her skirt on the tile floor. She sucked in a breath, bent at the knees to pull the broom out of his hand, and within two blinks she was gone. Not even a flash of blue fabric remained.

Ace watched the darkened terrace a while longer, anyway. Still smiling.

He whistled as he jumped over the garden wall, craning his neck at the shuttered windows on the face of the house. Not a single one moved, not even when he whistled low like the call of a bird. Too bad.

When the sky was struck with an indigo brush, cooling the relentless desert like an unfurled petal, Ace left a stack of steaming bread on the front step of the house. He pounded a fist on the door, stepping back. Already behind him he could hear shouts; it hadn’t been his best thievery, all in all. But if the woman didn’t take the bread now…and it was found on her doorstep…

A shutter above his head clattered.

Ace cupped his hands around his mouth. “Come and get it!” he hissed. “Quick! Before they find it!”

He’d have to leave town. A disappointment, really, but risks were risks. They rarely paid back in fair hands. Behind the door he heard an iron bolt pulled aside, the squeak of long-neglected hinges. He took another step back, hands open and free to show no danger.

“Go!” The woman appeared, blue fabric clenched in her hands to cover her hair. But it didn’t cover her face, or her smile. “They’ll cut off your hand if they catch you.”

Sharp little thing, wasn’t she? Ace laughed, a firework in the night. The bread was bundled up in the woman’s skirt before she pushed the door closed again, the slip of her smile his last sight of her.

Risks were risks.

And a smile was worth being run out of town.

#drabble requests #portgas d ace #ace x reader #one piece drabble #drabbles

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hd-junglebook · 9 months ago

Text

Lost

Part 1

word count - 1843

The thunderous roar of the engines filled the cabin as the plane sliced through the stormy night sky, turbulence rocking passengers in their seats. Among the passengers was y/n, a nurse who had just finished a volunteer mission in Australia. She was exhausted but relieved to be heading back home to America.

The lights flickered on and off plunging the passengers into darkness, the only illumination came from the intermittent flashes of lightning outside, casting eerie shadows that danced across the faces of the passengers. She heard the pilot's voice crackling over the intercom, trying to provide false security.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We are experiencing severe turbulence. Please fasten your seatbelts securely and prepare to use your airbags if necessary.”

Y/n could feel her heart racing as she looked out the window and saw flashes of lightning illuminating the dark sky. The plane shook violently, and she could hear passengers screaming and praying. Suddenly, there was a loud bang, passengers were thrown forward, and the oxygen masks dropped from the overhead compartments.

Quickly they followed the captain’s instructions, her fingers fumbling with the seatbelt as she struggled to secure it in place. Y/N closed her eyes, silently praying for the safety of everyone on board.

The plane suddenly dropped, causing Y/N to scream in terror. Beside her, the dark-skinned man and the blonde girl frantically buckled up, their previous argument halting as they hurriedly followed the pilot's orders.

Y/N clutched the armrest tightly, her knuckles turning pale as the turbulence intensified. Her heart raced as she peered out the window, rain streaking against the glass like tears of an ominous omen.

Beside her, the darker skinned man gripped her hand in silent solidarity, Y/N's breath caught in her throat as they caught eyes, his reflecting the same fear as the plane's descent grew steeper. “Hold on tight,” he murmured.

flight attendants hurried into their booths, their panicked movements a contrast to their previously composed demeanor. Luggage and loose papers flew around the cabin like confetti, the once orderly space now a scene of disarray as dropped lower from the sky towards the sand.

The captain's voice came over the intercom, but it was barely audible over the chaos.

“Brace for impact!” he shouted. Y/N's stomach dropped in unison with the plane as it began its rapid descent, her grip on the man’s palm tightening as if it were the only lifeline left. She stole a glance out the window once more.

Through the flashes of lightning, she watched in horror as the ground rushed up to meet them, a looming darkness swallowing the plane whole.

The plane crashed onto the shore of a beach in the middle of the storm. Y/N felt a jolt of pain as her head hit something hard, and then everything went black.

---

Rain pelted Y/N's face as she slowly came to, disoriented. The thunderous roar of crashing waves mixed with screams and shouts of panic from fellow passengers. She was being violently shaken by a frantic man kneeling over her.

"Hey! Wake up! We need to get out of here!" he yelled over the storm, urgency in his deep voice. Blinking groggily, she struggled to make sense of her surroundings.

Her head throbbed, and her body ached as though it had been jolted awake from a deep slumber. As her vision focused, Y/N saw it was the dark-skinned stranger who had been seated next to her on the plane. Another crack of thunder boomed menacingly above them. Y/N scrambled to her feet, still dazed.

It was chaos all around as people fled the wreckage strewn across wet sand. The plane had crashed on a beach. Wind whipped Y/N's hair wildly as the man grabbed her wrist, pulling her away from the swelling surf. Waves crashed violently against the shore, the tide coming in fast. They half-ran, half-stumbled through the downpour.

The rain poured relentlessly, drenching everything in sight, while the once serene beach now bore the scars of destruction. The wreckage of the plane lay sprawled in the sand, its metal frame twisted and broken, flames licking at its edges.

"Help me, please, help!" a man cried, his voice strained with fear. She looked through the running bodies and saw a passenger trapped in front of the whirring engine, flames dancing dangerously close. His desperate pleas for help echoed over the roar of the fire.

Ignoring her saviors’ protest, she sprinted back towards the burning wreckage, feeling the flames licking at her skin as she reached the trapped passenger.

“Oh fuck please miss, help me.” He cried out. With all her strength, she pulled at the debris pinning him down, the weight of it seeming insurmountable. But she refused to give up.

"Hey, you two!" Y/N called out, her voice cutting through the chaos. "I need your help!" The pair turned towards her, but Y/N wasted no time in explaining the situation. "I need you to hold this debris up while I pull this man out," she instructed firmly.

Without hesitation, the curly haired man guy and the blonde girl rushed to her side, their eyes widening in horror as they took in the scene before them. Together, they braced themselves against the weight of the wreckage, their muscles straining with effort.

She exerted every ounce of strength she possessed, pulling the trapped man to safety with a final, desperate heave. They collapsed onto the sand once more, exhausted but victorious. "Get him away from the engine!" Y/N shouted to the pair who had assisted her.

They both sprang into action, ushering the injured man away from the burning wreckage. His strong arms lifted heavy fragments of twisted metal and shards of fiberglass.

Y/N and the group struggled to catch their breath after pulling the man to safety, another cry pierced the air. Turning back, Y/N's attention was drawn to a young woman thrashing in the wet sand nearby. Rushing to her side, Y/N knelt down, concern etched into her features.

"What's wrong?" Y/N asked, her voice tinged with alarm.

The woman's face contorted in pain as she gasped for breath. "I'm having contractions," she managed to choke out between sobs.

Before she could formulate a plan, a deafening explosion rocked the beach behind her, sending shockwaves of heat and flames roaring into the sky. Instinctively, Y/N shielded the woman from the blast, her heart pounding in her chest as debris rained down around them.

"We need to get away from the wreck!" Y/N shouted over the dwindling thunder, her voice barely audible in the rain, she seized the young woman's hand, falling into step with her. Y/N scanned the beach for other survivors, her eyes locking onto those who still stood dazed and disoriented.

"Follow me!" she belted out. Behind her, a small group of survivors rallied, their footsteps pounding against the sand as they fled from the inferno that threatened to consume them.

The minutes dragged on, more survivors stumbled out of the wreckage to join the huddled group on the storm-battered beach. But many bodies lay motionless in the wet sand, lives lost in the violent crash.

Around her, the exhausted, shell-shocked survivors clung to each other silently. The initial shock had worn off, replaced by a sense of despair at the devastation. How many more would the merciless storm claim?

Y/N doubled over, catching her breath and taking stock of their dire situation. Other shocked survivors huddled nearby as lightning split the ink-black sky. She turned to the man who'd dragged her from the crash site.

"Thank you," she gasped over the gale. He gave a solemn nod.

---

The rain subsided and the cool breeze of the beach returned, a sense of calm settled over the survivors gathered around the flickering log fire. The night sky stretched out above them, adorned with a blanket of twinkling stars.

Joining the small group by the fire, Y/N tossed a log into the flames, the crackling fire casting a warm glow over their faces. "It seems like we’re gonna be here a while," Y/N said, nodding thoughtfully.

"Let's break the ice a bit. I'm Y/N." Murphy stepped forward, his figure shrouded in the dim light of the flickering fire, a sense of mystery surrounded him. His hood obscured much of his face, leaving only his piercing eyes visible as he spoke.

"I'm John. John Murphy," he introduced himself.

"Nice to meet you, John," Y/N replied with a nod, offering a small smile of gratitude. She turned her attention to the others as they introduced themselves in turn.

"Murphy, Nate, Harper, and Monty," Y/N repeated, committing their names to memory. "Glad we're all in this together."

The group settled around the crackling fire, conversation flowed easily between them. Stories were shared, laughter rang out, and for a brief moment, they began to unwind. the tranquility was soon interrupted by a sudden crackling sound emanating from the woods leading off the beach. Y/N's instincts kicked in immediately, her senses sharpening as she rose from her seat.

"Excuse me for a moment," Y/N said, her voice carrying a note of caution as she made her way towards the source of the noise. With each step, the crackling grew louder, echoing through the trees like a foreboding warning.

"Did anyone see that?" the pregnant girl asked, her eyes wide as she glanced nervously back towards the darkness from which the sounds had emerged. y/n steps paused at the sound of the pregnant girl's voice from behind her, tinged with alarm.

The tall trees swayed more violently than before, not just with the wind, but as if something was moving through them. Then came the roars, deep and guttural, resonating from the darkness beyond.

---

a raven-haired girl was screaming frantically for her boyfriend Lincoln. She pushed through the crowd of survivors, face streaked with tears.

Feeling compelled to help, Y/N stumbled out of the huddled group and approached the distraught girl. "Hey, what does he look like? I'll help you find him," Y/N offered gently.

The girl whipped around, eyes wild. "He's tall, tan skin, uhm he has a tattoo on his face," she sputtered out.

Y/N nodded, committing the details to memory. She placed a comforting hand on the girl's shoulder. "Okay, let's look around. He can't have gone far."

Together they searched the wreckage and clusters of people, calling Lincoln's name over the roar of the surf. The girl became more frantic with each passing minute.

Y/N tried to remain calm and focused, head on a swivel for the man described. Just as hope was fading, a figure emerged from the tangled plane cabin.

"Octavia!" came a relieved shout. The girl's head snapped up. "Lincoln!" She flew into the man's arms. Y/N exhaled, grateful she could help reunite them.

“Glad I could help! Get back to the camp” y/n suggested, shielding her eyes from the wind. The girl nodded thankfully, “Its Octavia by the way. Thank you for your help.” She concluded, before pulling her boyfriend along with her back to the group.

---

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yuyan · 1 year ago

Note

Hello! How are you?

So, this request is a little specific... if you chose not to write it, it's completely understandable!

Anyway, imagine that a fem!reader is The Traveler (but reader has her own appearance). And, since she has been separated from her twin, she feels particularly lonely on her birthday. Like: she celebrates her day with her friends normally (she wouldn't want to worry them + they do make her feel loved), but, at the end of the day, she's still alone. Her twin's not there to celebrate with her. At midnight, they won't be the first to wish each other a happy birthday. She'll have to blow out all the candles by herself. Her name looks lonely on the cake. And the happy birthday song sounds wrong without his. Her friends are bringing gifts for her only. Not for him. Because he's not there and won't be.

I miss you

A/n: Im sorry I took so long to do this request! I did some of my fav characters, enjoy!~

Kazuha, Ayato, Ayaka, Kaveh and Ganyu x fem!twin traveler! reader (separate)

Tags: light angst, comfort, can be viewed as platonic or romantic

Kazuha 🍁

You stood on the balcony of wangshu inn, overlooking liyue's plains. The cold breeze made you shiver as you counted down the seconds until it hit 12am. The sky was still dark, everyone fast asleep and you knew it was hopeless but deep down you wished your twin brother could hear you say, "happy birthday," as the clock striked 12.

Instead, you heard another familiar voice say,"happy birthday," with you. You turned around to see Kazuha standing behind you with his signature soft smile and a nearly wrapped present in his hands.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, "you should be asleep."

"You told me how your brother and you would count down the seconds until midnight so you could wish each other happy birthday," Kazuha explained.

"Kazuha..." you whispered as a small smile crept up onto your face. Despite the overwhelming happiness that flooded your senses, a wave of melancholy swept through, causing small tears to form in your eyes.

Kazuha's eyes widened. He dropped the present to embrace you. "Its ok. We'll find him," he muttered soothingly.

"Thank you Kazuha."

Ayato 💧

You stared at your reflection in the mirror. Ayato had gotten you a new outfit for your birthday. An outfit your brother will probably never see. Will probably never tease you or jokingly say it looks dumb. As you mentally prepared yourself for your birthday party, Ayato knocked on your door. A knock you didn't hear. Instead, your head was filled with dread as the thought of your brother not being there. Not being together on both or you's birthday for the first time since you two were well...born.

The door slid open, making you turn around to see Ayato peaking into your room. He smiled, "you look beautiful. Are you ready to go?"

"Thank you, um," you looked back at the mirror and saw your inteyvat flower on the mirror and a grim look flashed on your face.

"Are you ok?" Ayato asked.

"Yeah I'm fine, lets go," you said, smiling.

Ayato only sighed. "You know we don't have to go if you don't want to, I can just tell Thoma you're not feeling well," Ayato said. "So whats wrong?"

"I-...It's the first time I haven't celebrated my birthday with my brother."

Ayato pursed his lips and walked towards you. He tucked a strand of hair behind your eyes and looked straight into your eyes. "I'm sure whereever your brother is, he's wishing you a happy birthday and missing you." "We can just celebrate by ourselves if you'd like?"

"Yeah, ok thanks."

"I'll go tell Thoma you're not feeling well."

You smiled.

Ayaka ❄️

Everyone had gone home. Only Thoma, Ayaka and you were left, cleaning up. Thoma left to another room to wash the dishes leaving you Ayaka alone, cleaning up the ripped wrapping paper and confetti onthe ground.

"That was a fun party," Ayaka said, a wide close-eyed smile on her face.

"Yeah, especially when Itto ran around screaming because he couldn't handle some spice," you said, laughing. Ayaka giggled at the memory.

A random thought popped into your mind and you stopped laughing, alerting Ayaka. He wasn't here. I couldn't wish him happy birthday. All the cards were for you but not for him. All the wrapping paper was from your presents none from his.

"(Name)?" Ayaka called, breaking you out of your thoughts.

"Yes?" you replied.

"I know you miss your brother," Ayaka started.

"Huh? No I mean yes but its ok it doesn't matter," you said, looking down at the floor.

"Everything is going to be ok, we'll find him," Ayaka said, walking towards you. She held your hand gently and have a small smile.

"Thank you."

Kaveh 🎨

"(Name)! Are you ready?" Kaveh called out.

"Oh! Um yeah...be right there!" you replied. You glanced at the photo frame of you and your brother and gave a weak smile. You were going to hang out with your friends. You should be happy... but it didn't feel the same knowing he wouldn't be there. "Happy birthday, I miss you."

"(Name)? Who are you talking to-oh," Kaveh stopped at the doorway of your room, glancing between you and the photo on your bedside table. "Are you ok?" "Actually don't answer that, that was a stupid question."

Kaveh hugged you, rubbing your back gently as tears welled up in your eyes. "I just miss him you know?" you said, between sobs.

"I know," Kaveh whispered. "I miss my dad a lot even though your brother isn't dad but you know?"

"Yeah, I know," you said, pulling away from him. You wiped your tears away and looked up at Kaveh who had a sad smile.

"We're gonna do many fun things today though! Ok? I'll make this your best birthday ever," Kaveh said.

You giggled, "Ok."

Ganyu 💤

The sky was still dark, everyone probably in their beds sleeping soundly. However, you were sitting by the window ledge, staring out the window, gazing at the stars.

"(Name)? Why aren't you asleep?" Ganyu asked, rubbing her eyes as she let out a yawn. She stretched out her arms and walked towards you. "We have work tomorrow you know?"

"I know," you said, never tearing your eyes away from the window.

"Would you like to talk about it?" Ganyu offered, taking a seat next to you. "I can make you prosperous peace."

You smiled, finally looking at ganyu. "You don't have to do all of that." "It's just its going to be...well it is my birthday today," you started, looking at the clock that said 12,"and I've never celebrated my brother's and I's birthday without him."

Ganyu observed you carefully as you ranted about how much you missed him. "It's going to be ok. You'll find him, I'm sure of it and then the two of you will be the happiest you've ever been! After all they say distance makes the heart grow fonder," Ganyu said.

"Yeah I'm sure you're right. Thank you," you said, smiling at her.

"No problem," Ganyu said.

Bonus:

"Your highness, your breakfast is ready," an abyss lector said.

"Ok I'll be there soon," a boy said. The boy looked at a photo on his bedside table, a photo that was framed in an elegant gold photo frame, a photo of you and him. There was a small cake in front of it, his and yours name written on it. His name felt lonely on the cake without yours under it, it felt weird so he tried his best to pipe it out. Your name a little wobbly but it would do. "Happy birthday sister," he said gently, smiling softly, placing an inteyvat flower in front of it.

A/N: New chapter out for the art of love - the series tomorrow! :D

Main masterlist || Requests: OPEN

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