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jackie5656 · 3 years

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The Fight

With; Newt (TMR)

A/N: Kind of a long one guys. Thank you again for all the love. I appreciate every like, reblog, and comment. Enjoy!

Warnings: mention of suicidal thoughts/attempt, anxiety, minor panic attack, Minho being an ass (I promise it’s not all depressing and sappy there is a good amount of angst/fluff ofc)

“Bugger off Newt, I want to be left alone.” The boy trails behind as you stomp over to the forest, figuring collecting fertilizer would be better than having to tolerate the pestering blonde any longer.

“Don’t you want someone to keep you company?”

“Am I still speaking English? Leave me be.” It’s been a long day, and a part of you is still getting used to the harsh, mundane work days of the glade since you’re arrival a few months ago. It’s been a lot of pressure, but surprisingly you’ve managed to hold it together. It’s impressive too, you’ve managed to adapt better to your new life better than any other glader had. Perhaps that was why the boy was so drawn to you.

It’s not like he had wanted to be. In fact, Newt would have been more than happy treating you like any other glader. But it just so happened the one and only girl in the glade just had to be a natural track-hoe, so there was no avoiding her. Not her smooth skin, glistening eyes, or her infectious laugh-

“Hello? Would you quit it, shank? It’s like you want to get me jacked.”

“Maybe I just like seeing you all riled up.” You can feel the smirk playing on his stupidly Cherry-red lips as he teases you, quickening his pace so he can grab the straggling branches of the thick forest out of your way. Your stomach flips at his words, but it’s quickly filled with hot anger as the nervousness fades. He won’t quit flirting, and despite your quit wit you’re finding it harder to snap back at him when he says things like that. He doesn’t even mean it

“You’re infuriating!”

“And you’re gorgeous.” The words slip past his tongue before he can catch him, and your footsteps stutter over a stray twig amongst the brush on the ground. You almost trip, but the glader behind you is quick to catch your forearm. It’s silent, and you’re darting your head around just fast enough to catch the stunned look on his face, informing you he hadn’t meant to voice the compliment aloud. Your eyes narrow, trying your best to ignore the longing temptation within you begging to kiss away the stupid blush in his cheeks.

“You know, instead of searching the forest for fertilizer, I should just pick up all the klunk that comes out of your mouth.” The harsh words come without much thought, but you don’t completely regret saying them. If he was actually interested, he wouldn’t be so keen on making you annoyed every minute of every day.

His eyebrows narrow, but if your snarky comment provoked any thought he doesn’t voice it.

“Shuck, sorry then newbie. I’ll slim it.”

“Listen, I was a newbie four greenies ago! So you can stop calling me that.” You spin on your heel to face him, standing your ground when he stops short in order to not run you over. When you meet eyes, he gives a kind smile, studying your features intently. Almost as if you were in a daze, you do the same. Relishing in the sounds of the nature around you and the warm sun beaming through the tree tops, perfectly illuminating the lightest streaks in the taller boy’s hair. You hadn’t notice before, but there are small puddles of gold in his deep brown eyes, speckled about in his irises and disappearing when he tilts his head to the side in feigned curiosity. He licks his lips before letting his accented voice break the silence.

“What’s up with you?”

“What? Nothing.”

“You’ve got that look about you.”

“What look?”

“That look.”

“I don’t have a look.”

“Well, I’m looking at you right now, and you have a look.”

“What look?!” He grins at your suddenly aggravated persistence, holding back a laugh when you let out a dramatic groan and start to tread deeper into the woods.

Later that night, you’re making conversation with Frypan as you help with the dishes. He’s good company, and most times mundane chores like cleaning up after other gladers seem to fly by when he’s around. You let out a sigh when a familiar hand reaches out to help you take out one of the heavier pots from the drying rack.

“Didn’t know you were a cook, greenie.”

“Maybe I;’m just trying to avoid you.”

“Impossible, you’d miss me too much.”

“What do you want, shank.”

“What, I can’t help out too?”

Just then, you’re pulled away by the forearm with a strong yank. Releasing yourself from Mihno’s grip and rubbing the excess suds off of your hands quickly.

“What the hell?”

“Listen, you want him to quit being a shank towards you right?”

“Of course I do Minho, but-“

“Then flirt with me.”

“Wh-what?”

“Flirt with me, squeeze my arm and laugh like I just said something really funny.”

“You’re already saying something funny. You must be jacked.” You attempt to blow your friend off and walk away, but he pulls you toward him again.

“Just humor me for a minute, yeah? Let’s see how riled up this shank gets.”

“Minho, he’s not going to get mad. He lives to annoy me, he’ll be happy to see you’re joining in on the fun!”

“Y/n, you’re not seriously this dense? The poor shank likes you, he’s just got no idea how to show it. The playful banter you two have, although it’s cute, is starting to get old. So, because I’m an amazing friend and wing-man, I’ll help you shanks out. Now squeeze my arm and laugh.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Don’t believe me?” His challenging smirk is enough for you to give in, determined to prove the raven haired boy wrong. Setting aside your irritated mood, you adjust your hunched stance before giving Minho your most charming smile. Muttering idly and pressing his bicep with a dramatic laugh. He shoots you a glare when you pinch with a little too much passion, but a smirk stays on his face nonetheless. He moves just a bit closer to you, eyes darting across the glade and smile widening.

“See she-bean? He’s practically fuming.” The boy does all he can to contain his laughter, pulling himself together when you offer a subtle glance to the blonde across the glade. He’s leaning against the now empty sink with his arms crossed. Looking too angry to even begin to make his death glare towards Minho any less obvious. Admittedly, you don’t think you’ve seen Newt ever look so flustered. When you lock eyes, his lips remain tightly pressed together. Not long after does he turn back around to continue attending to the dishes. All whilst muttering something under his breath and shaking his head.

“Don’t get so cocky, you’re blushing too you shank.” You swat Mihno’s hand pinching your cheek, genuinely laughing when he nudges you out of the homestead hut.

“I’ll probably be banished by sundown for that.”

“You think he’s really that upset about it? I mean, I know we’re good friends and all but I never expected Newt to see me like that.”

“It’s a good thing I’m one of the only shanks around here with a brain.”

“Y/n, mind if I talk to you for a bit?” Alby approached the pair of you with a soft expression, his gentle nature filling you with a bit of concern. You nod hesitantly, feeling as though every damn glader needed to pull you from one conversation to the next tonight. You follow Alby closely as he leads you back into the homestead, sitting on one of the hammocks and motioning for you to do the same. There’s a contemplative silence before the head glader speaks, only taking him a few moments to gather his thoughts before meeting your eyes.

“I gotta be honest greenie, I’m a bit worried about you.”

“Why me?” Your eyebrows narrow in confusion, and the older boy’s worried tone makes your heart sink.

“Most of the newbies are jacked the first couple weeks. You know, lashing out one minute and crying like a baby the next. But you’ve been quite, collected. That leaves a lot of room for me to be concerned.”

“Alby, you’re upset that I’m not...Upset?”

“I’m upset that you remind me of myself. I was a lot like you, I kept everything in when I first got here. I was reserved, and I kept everything bottled up inside. And I’m no therapist, but that quickly tore me apart. I understand being a girl might...Complicate things, seeing as some of these shanks expect you to be weaker. You don’t have to prove yourself greenie, at least not in that way.” You take a minute to consider his words, chewing on the inside of your cheek in thought. He studies you for a moment, seemingly thinking about his next words with caution. “I don’t mean to jack you up, just think about it.” He finishes carefully, nudging your shoulder with his own before exiting the hut. Giving you a tight lipped smile and curt nod before disappearing from view. Was that supposed to be a pep talk?

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

The past weeks had been confusing, terrifying, and downright unbelievable. That was clear, but didn’t you have no other choice than to accept what was going on? You still had millions of questions, and a certain ache in your heart that felt like it was pulling at you. But there wasn’t time to break down, not yet anyway. Is there even a right time? The conversation with Alby seemed to have made you worse off than before. You shuffle for the hundredth time in your hammock, letting out an exasperated sigh at the restless situation.

Despite your efforts, sleep never comes. For the past week, you’ve been exhausted just about everyday. Today had been no different, except when you try to relax, anxiety crawls in the air around you. Suddenly, the warm night air is absolutely suffocating. It’s too much pressure, too much unknown for you to handle it any longer. When your pounding heartbeat begins to drown out the cicadas and other sounds of the glade, you can only think of one thing. Alby was right

Stumbling out of your hammock, you start making your way out of the hut. It doesn’t matter where, you just need to escape. Even when you’re outside, there’s still not enough room. The four walls that once felt like a barrier between you and the horrors of the ominous maze, now feel like a cage. Trapping you inside and shrinking impossibly smaller until they eventually crush you.

Without thinking, you begin to sprint over to the west wall, pounding at the menacing stone and letting out a chocked sob. All at once, every emotion you’d suppressed since your first day in the glade releases from you. It’s nauseating, and you grip your stomach in an attempt to latch onto some sense of stability.

Who put you here? Why was everyone so indifferent to their lives here, and why had you eventually become the same way?

There’s been this ache, some rotting substance in your core that’s been emanating within you since you first woke up in the box. A horrible, indescribable hollowness that is the result of the loss of what must have been your life before the maze. Suddenly, you miss your mom. Or maybe a woman who resembled one. It’s mortifying, to know you must have parents somewhere out there. But you can’t remember them, can only feel the ugliest parts of you that aren’t whole without them. Your vision blurs, and there’s an awful white noise that drowns out any and all sounds of reality surrounding you. Completely immersed in your own thoughts, even the ground beneath you feels as though it’s been meticulously sculpted by whatever monsters put you here. It’s impossible to breath, feeling as though every beat of your heart, every blink of an eye is in the control of the creators. So caught up in your own panic, you don’t sense the boy calling your name behind you.

You attempt to squirm out of his strong grip, his stature never showing how strong he truly is from his long hours in the gardens. It’s no use to keep pulling away when his back hits the stone wall of the glade, using his strong grip to hold your hands against your chest as he slides you both to the floor. Weaker leg giving out from the sheer strength needed to restrain you. Newt’s not sure if he’s helping or making your panicked state even worse, but he’s reassured when you begin to calm. Erratic cries faltering into small whimpers as your head uncontrollably jerks at each sharp intake of air your body forces you to take. You can feel his heart beat rapidly against your back, informing you just how scared he is despite his stoic nature on the outside. You try to release from his grip once again, instincts telling you there’s too much to worry about to calm down. The blonde pulls you closer to him once more, hushing your cries and leaning his chin atop of your head. The world feels authentic again, and you silently think out a plethora of thank you’s to the boy for immersing you back into reality. Doing your best to cease your cries and gain control of your breathing, you grip onto the fabric of his long sleeve sleeping shirt with a terror-induced strength. It’s all too much

“Just breathe y/n, breathe with me.” He mutters softly, chest filling with pride when you mimic his dramatic intakes of air.

The ringing subsides, and the white clouding your vision finally clears when your heart begins to slow. Eventually, Newt releases your arms. And in an instant, you clutch onto his hand in fear the crippling panic will return. Rip you away from everything you’ve come to know in only seconds.

“You’re alright now love, just breathe.” He soothes again, not even flinching at your harsh grip on him. The minute you had left your hammock, something within him beckoned him to follow. You’d been off the past couple of days, and somehow the boy knew you couldn’t be alone. His eyes well with tears, you having reminded him so much of himself his first year in the glade. He wonders what you would have done if he hadn’t caught you in time, and what lengths you would have gone to if the pain never stopped and the maze walls opened. He wills away the thought with a shake of his head, reminding himself that you’re still here, and in dire need of a friend.

“I miss my mom.” You stutter out eventually, soft lips trembling and pulled into a pitiful pout. “I don’t remember her of course, but it’s like I can feel her. I feel everything and nothing at the same time, you know? There’s so much death here, it’s been hard to find something to live for. How am I supposed to do this, how are we supposed to survive this? I mean...This has gotta be some sort of sick joke, nobody could be this shucking cruel right?” You let out a pathetic scoff, still shaking uncontrollably in his arms.

“Listen to me y/n, I’ve been where you are. We all have, and I can promise you there is so much more than that feeling. You have to believe me.” You shake your head, refusing to accept his empty promises. He sighs before continuing, trying to gather his thoughts in preparation to confess what he’s kept secret from almost all other gladers until now. “A couple weeks into my first year here, I couldn’t shake the same feeling you’re describing. That dark, ominous part that sits inside of all of us here. The unknown, the memories begging to re-enter your mind. I hated it, I hated this place, and I hated myself.” You lift your head from his shoulder at that, wanting to study his contemplative expression as he carries on. “Eventually, I couldn’t take it. So I ran out into the maze....And I did what I assume you’ve been thinking about the past couple of days. And I can assure you, nothing you do to yourself with get rid of that pain. That’s why we survive, we persevere, we fight. It might have taken a shattered leg and permanent limp for me to realize, but I know now the only way to beat that feeling is to escape this shucking place. What comes next doesn’t matter, we have to show whatever slintheads put us here that they won’t ever win. Do you understand?” His expression becomes stern, willing each word to bore into your mind as a permanent oath. Stunning brown eyes boring into yours as if they’ll cement each syllable into your mind. You nod, unsure of how to respond.

“You have to promise me.” He mutters softly, eyes welling with tears at your empty expression. “Please love, promise me you’ll fight.” He’s holding your head in his hands now, silently willing the overwhelming demons your facing to escape that beautiful mind.

“P-promise. I promise.” You reassure weakly, overcome with love for the boy under you. Instantly, you encase him in a tight embrace. Heart swelling even more when he plants a soft kiss to your temple.

“Good that.” He breathes gently, pulling you impossibly closer to his heart. Just to hold you for a little while longer. You have to fight, and you’ll do it together.

Tagging: @8avery8 @jenny33996

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sokkascroptop · 4 years

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traitor. (sokka x f!reader) pt 16

part 1 | part 15 | part 17

TW: blood & death. PLEASE heed these warnings

A/N: lmao you guys thought that last chapter was angsty?

Everything had gone back to normal the next morning; it was like nothing had changed. Y/N didn’t know how to feel about it. On one hand she was grateful that they were able to go about their days like they always had, on the other hand she wished that they had achieved something more. If only Y/N could have opened her damn mouth. At which point she had to remind herself that there’s a very large possibility that Sokka liked Suki which sent her head spiraling into a completely different and unwanted direction that she avoided thinking about at all costs. What did it mean for her to like two people that might like each other? Honestly, Y/N had never realized her life was so complicated. In fact, Y/N had almost convinced herself their midnight confessions were a dream until a week later when they were flying on Appa and Sokka leaned close to her.

“Do you think we’ll camp by a river we can skip rocks at?”

Y/N cocked one eyebrow. Sokka already knew the answer. He didn’t need her to tell him they always camped near water. “I hope so,” she replied.

The wind was howling in their ears enough that Y/N didn’t think anyone would hear but Toph scoffed from her place near the edge of the saddle. “When do you guys go out and skip rocks?”

At the sound of Toph’s voice, Aang and Katara turned to look at them.

“Uhhh…” Sokka scratched the back of his neck nervously.

“Sometimes when we’re not sparring we do fun things!” Y/N said defensively.

“What other fun things do you get up to?” Toph’s voice was innocent, but her face was mischievous. She knew exactly what she was asking. Y/N could hear Aang snicker from Appa’s head.

Y/N noticed Sokka scooted farther away from her in the saddle, keeping a very appropriate distance between the two of them, his cheeks were a fiery red. She didn’t give Toph the satisfaction of an answer. Mostly because she didn’t even know what to say back. Hahah, Toph, I wish!! Y/N groaned internally at the thought.

Y/N caught Katara’s eye from the front of the saddle. The girl narrowed her eyes at Y/N. Y/N blinked and looked towards the clouds, when she looked back Katara was still staring at her. She flicked her eyes between Sokka and Y/N in wordless conversation. You two?

Y/N furrowed her brow, glancing at Sokka and then returning to Katara. Y/N shook her head violently. No way!

Katara raised a solitary eyebrow and smiled. Her thoughts were clear, I don’t believe it.

If the embarrassment of a one-sided crush wasn’t enough, now if Katara got a hold of Sokka, Y/N would get to hear him adamantly deny liking her. Y/N slid down in the saddle until her head rested on the edge. Oh endless sleep, take me now! She begged the spirits. None of them ever got back to her.

“You guys, it’s your turn to go to town to get food.” Y/N turned around from where she was setting up her sleeping bag to look at Katara.

“Who’s ‘you guys’?” She asked.

“You and Sokka.” Aang floated a moonpeach towards Momo who snatched it out of the air and tore into it.

Y/N groaned and flopped down on her blankets. She looked towards the sky. There was probably a few hours before sunset. “But it’ll be dark by the time we get back,” She pouted.

“Then I guess we just won’t eat tonight,” Toph snarked. She was laying back on the bare dirt with one leg crossed over the other. Y/N kicked out her leg at Toph’s ankle making her legs fall to the ground. Toph waved a finger and a rock shot up from under Y/N’s sleeping bag, knocking her in the head.

Y/N sucked in a sharp inhale. “Toph, I don’t care if you’re twelve and blind, I’ll still punch you in the face.”

“Do it.” Toph dared.

A bag of coins was dropped next to Y/N on the ground before she could get up and threaten Toph properly. Katara stood above her with her hands on her hips. “Maybe the next time you mouth off,” Y/N said as she looked at Katara with a sweet grin.

She grabbed her sword and the money and at the last minute leaned over and flicked Toph on the forehead. She ran away quickly only to be tripped by a stone that wasn’t there a second before hand.

Y/N sprawled on the ground. She lifted her head just enough to yell, “Aang, it’s not FUNNY!”

She rolled to her feet and shot a glare back at the others who were trying to contain their laughter and went off to find Sokka who was collecting firewood. She caught him just as he was heading out of the small strip of woods they were near.

Her eyes immediately bounced down to look at his bare arms and his bulging bicep. Y/N looked away quickly and gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Hey, we’re on shopping duty.” She lifted the pouch of coins and jingled it.

“Oh. Okay, here take some.” Sokka unceremoniously dumped half of the logs he was carrying into her arms, ignoring her protests. “We’ll drop that off at camp first and then leave.”

Y/N hummed. “I don’t think I wanna go back. I pissed Toph off and I think she’s got a rock for me to stub my toe on ready and waiting.” Y/N pointed at her already scraped knee.

Sokka chuckled. “We have to get Appa anyways, come on. I’ll protect you.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

Y/N’s heart fluttered in her chest. Of course, she knew Sokka was just joking. “My hero,” she said sarcastically.

---

Y/N hefted the basket in her arms and peered over the top to read the list in her hands. “Do we have everything?”

Sokka looked into her basket and then into his. “I think so. Let’s go back, it’s getting dark.” He was right; the sky was red with fading light. If they wanted to make it back to Appa before the sun set completely, they’d have to hurry.

Y/N knew the moment they left the streets of that town something was bound to go wrong. That niggling intuition of hers, the one that made her ears ring and the hair on her neck to stand up, was at full attention. They’d reached the woods. Trees lined a small trail and up a good sized hill was Appa waiting for them in a cave.

Y/N heard a stick snap behind her, but when she whipped her head around there was nothing there.

“What’s up?” Sokka turned his head to join her, giving her a confused glance as he swung his head around.

“Uh, nothing. I think.” Y/N shook her head and faced forward again. She quickened her pace a touch and Sokka easily caught up with her. Y/N kept her ears pricked for the slightest of sounds around them. She worked to drown out the regular noises like the cicada-bats and the occasional badger-frog and listen for the more unusual sounds; the breaking of twigs under feet, swords being pulled from their sheaths, bowstrings being pulled back…

Then she heard it, the unmistakable sound of a heavy boot on packed dirt. Y/N turned to face them and threw her basket to the side. Damn, the dumplings and the fruit, she’d pay Katara back personally if she and Sokka didn’t die.

“Sokka, we have a slight problem,” Y/N warned. In front of her was a short man. She could see the sword at his waist but his face was hidden by a broad brimmed hat. Only then did she realize she had seen the same man in the market. She recognized the hat from the stand where they got the fish and the stand where they had bought vegetables for Aang.

Sokka’s back bumped into hers. “We got a slight problem from this direction too, Princess.”

Y/N didn’t even spare a glance over Sokka’s shoulder. “Two on two wouldn’t have been so bad if you’d remembered to bring your sword,” Y/N chastised quietly.

Sokka grumbled something intelligible and Y/N drew her sword. “Who are you? What do you want?” She shouted at the man in front of her. Slowly, Sokka began to shift around to her right side. She saw why, the man in front of them was circling the two of them. He only stopped once he reached his companion.

“I think it’s obvious what we’re here for,” the first one said.

Y/N sneered. “Not really. You saw us at the market, we spent almost all of our money on food. If you wanted to rob us you should have done it then.”

“They were following us?” Sokka elbowed her in the side.

“Shut up,” Y/N growled.

“We’re here for the girl who betrayed her nation.”

---

Y/N stopped breathing. They’d found her. They’d caught her. Even with traveling to a new place everyday and the fancy clothes and the cut hair, someone still recognized her. Y/N could feel herself starting to spiral. She knew this would happen, she told them this would happen...

It was taking too long for her to say something, so Sokka stepped in. “We don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The second man chuckled at them.

“She does.” The first man had drawn his sword and pointed it at Y/N who snapped her jaw shut. “You think with that new haircut that I wouldn’t recognize you? I’d know those pretty eyes of yours anywhere.”

Y/N’s breathing quickened and a shudder rolled through her body. Who was behind the shadow of that hat? Who knew her face so well? But that wasn’t the only thought running through her mind. She was racing to think of a solution to the problem at hand. It was one on two. She had to get Sokka out of there. He wouldn’t do anything but keep her distracted. She was far too invested in his life for him to stick around.

Y/N shoved Sokka away from her. “Go! Run and get Appa. Get the others!”

Sokka didn’t stop to question her and Y/N was oh so grateful.

---

She went for the second man who had yet to pull a weapon. She understood why he hadn’t pulled a weapon when she got within ten feet of him and a knife sliced through the slide of her skirt, ripping the material. Lovely, she thought. A knife thrower like Mai.

The knives were thrown so hard they were almost invisible and she used all her concentration to block them and knock them down. When she got close enough, he pulled a dagger to fight her off with but he was fat and much too slow to be fighting sword against dagger. Her blade pushed cleanly through his abdomen. He fell heavily to the ground, a pool of blood pushing out from underneath him.

Y/N smacked a hand over her mouth and willed herself not to throw up even as bile built up in the back of her throat.

“Nicely done,” the other man said.

Y/N gasped and let out a shuddering breath. Why was he just standing there, watching her kill his friend?

He lifted off his hat and threw it to the side and the breath was knocked out of her all over again. “Kaito.”

---

Kaito flipped the blade over in his hand as he walked closer to her. Y/N walked backwards until she could no more. “You’re sticking to the shorter attacks like I suggested. That’s good.”

“W–why did you let me kill him!” she screamed. It had been easy. Kaito didn’t even try to help.

Kaito shrugged and looked at his dead companion. “I wanted the reward money for myself. He won’t mind.”

Kaito’s first blow nearly knocked her to her knees and she realized stupidly that this was the real deal. This wasn’t a sparring match on the ship a month ago where Kaito went easy on her; this was the two of them fighting for their lives. This was the match he had patiently explained to her, what seemed like a lifetime ago. She had to win. She could not let the others come back to her dead body in the woods. She wouldn’t make Sokka have to see that. Not after what he told her a week ago. She was not going to let his biggest fear come true.

---

Blow by blow they were evenly matched. Y/N fighting for her life, Kaito for his honor. He talked while they fought, anything to distract her or throw her off so he could get a stab in. “We’ve been following you for a while. Heard about a little Fire Nation girl who blew up a factory. I knew that’d be you.”

“That was The Painted Lady,” Y/N grumbled as she blocked a swift uppercut. Y/N’s energy was fading fast. She felt like she was being drained by the second. She was sweating, her heart was pounding, her vision blurred with adrenaline.

She side-stepped and allowed his sword to slice the flesh of her left arm so she could stab at his bum leg. Kaito screamed and fell, clutching his knee. Y/N kicked his sword away in a cloud of dust. She held her sword out threateningly, already beginning to back up to make a run for it. “You aren’t going to keep following us.”

Kaito chuckled darkly. “I’m never going to stop hunting you down. No one will. I’m a soldier and I follow my orders. The penalty for treason is death, and that’s what a traitor like you deserves. You don’t have long anyways,” He smirked.

Y/N saw red. Those words echoed in her head over and over. Traitor. That was her label for choosing the side of the light, the side that believed in harmony and peace. Well then, let it be.

Kaito slumped face first into the dirt, his head lolling at an unnatural angle. Y/N’s sword was tipped with fresh blood.

Y/N bent to retrieve his sword from the ground when a stitch tore through her side. It felt like a pulled muscle but that was not a pulled muscle when she looked down; that was a knife in her side. So that’s what Kaito meant by ‘she didn’t have long’.

---

Y/N let out a hysterical laugh as she pulled the knife out. Blood began to seep out quickly and she vaguely wondered if she should have done that. It didn’t hurt but–woah–that was a lot of blood. The knife slipped from her fingers to the ground. That guy must have had better aim than she thought.

---

Y/N blinked and Sokka was shaking her shoulders. Where did he come from? His mouth was forming words that Y/N could not hear.

“What?” She asked loudly. That ringing in her ears was loud.

“I was yelling at you not to pull it out!”

“Oh.”

Sokka grabbed her jaw with one hand, forcing her to look directly at him. “Focus! Are you okay?!”

Y/N smiled. His eyes were such a pretty blue. Like the deep ocean or the eastern sky when the sun was setting or– “I am now.”

“Yeah, okay.” Sokka peeled her fingers away from her sword and sheathed it. He wrapped her arm around his shoulder and slipped his around her waist. Y/N didn’t know why, she didn’t feel like she needed help walking.

---

That fuzzy-brained, painless period didn’t last long.

“Sokka,” Y/N sobbed. She grabbed onto a tree and would have slid down to her knees if Sokka hadn’t been there to catch her. Her other hand clutched her side. “I can’t–I can’t go any further.” She gasped as a sharp pain shot through her side. Every time she breathed it was worse and she was hyperventilating. She squeezed her eyes shut and a few tears leaked out. When she opened her eyes, Sokka was kneeling beside her with a very uncharacteristic serious look on his face. Y/N could have laughed if she wasn’t in so much pain.

“Just a little farther. We have to get back to Katara.” He shook his head. “Giving up is not an option.”

“Okay, okay.” Y/N scrubbed her face. As she looked to him her chin began to wobble with an impending rush of tears. “I’m scared,” she murmured. It was not something she would normally admit but this was anything but a normal moment. Kaito’s words from the ship echoed in her mind: she had never actually had to face her own death before and now she was.

“Me too.” Sokka’s face was stoic, but she could hear the shaking of his voice. She held out her hand that wasn’t trying to stop blood from gushing out of her side and Sokka hauled her to her feet.

---

Y/N was pretty sure in the last one hundred yards it took to get to Appa, Sokka and Y/N tripped over every single root in that part of the forest. It was pitch black, their way only lit by the faint lines of the moon through the tree branches.

Y/N was relying more and more on Sokka’s strength to get her back to Appa; he was half-carrying her and they were both breathing heavily.

Appa grunted when they reached him. Y/N didn’t know the context of said grunt. Was he mad that it took them so long? Was he worried because he could smell blood? She was thinking about asking Aang if he could tell what Appa meant by the certain noises he made when Sokka snapped her out of her thoughts.

“Y/N!” He said sharply. She looked up at him from where she was standing. When did he climb up to the saddle? Y/N started climbing up after him and Sokka reached down to help her. Her arms felt like they weighed a thousand pounds and under any other circumstances her face might have flushed pink if Sokka had grabbed the back of her thigh like he just did to haul her in. She collapsed onto her back, staring at the stars.

Y/N was pretty sure that Sokka was talking to her but his voice was distorted like she was underwater. Every blink of her eyes lasted longer until she didn’t have the energy to open them anymore.

Her last thought before fading to black was “Who’s Yue?”

---

Y/N woke up sweating. She automatically began kicking the blankets off, anything to get the heat away from her; she felt like she was suffocating. The motion set off a familiar pain in her left side that left her gasping for air. Finally, after she threw the last fur off, she stubbornly pulled herself to a sitting position. She looked around her. She didn’t remember falling asleep in a tent. Wait, was this Sokka’s tent?!

Y/N pressed a hand against her side, the pressure made it feel better and worse, and crawled to the tent opening. She pulled back one of the flaps just as someone was barreling in.

“Sokka?

“Y/N?”

“I thought I heard you wake up!” he exclaimed, pulling her in for a tight hug.

Y/N wrapped her arms around him and rested her chin on his shoulder. Her head was throbbing worse than the first time she drank rice wine. “What happened?”

Sokka ignored the question and his arms tightened around her. “How do you feel?”

“I’m...okay.” Pieces of the night before were beginning to flood back. Kaito and knives. “I am so sorry for scaring you like that.”

Y/N pulled back from their hug. Their faces were inches apart. She could feel the heat of Sokka’s breath on her cheek. Y/N’s eyes flicker to his lips and then back up to his eyes. Slowly, she backed away from him, but Sokka had other ideas. He grasped her face with both hands pressed his lips against hers. Y/N felt her stomach drop and she squeezed her eyes shut. Maybe she was dreaming.

He pulled back sooner than Y/N would have liked, but left his hands on her cheeks, tracing over her cheekbone lightly with his thumb. There was a dazed expression on his face.

He immediately jerked his hands away and clasped them in his lap when he noticed her widened eyes. “I’m so sorry. Spirits! I should have asked! I just couldn’t–last night, I couldn’t leave you! I got half way back to Appa and turned around! You almost died and I almost didn’t get to tell you I liked you.” Sokka ran a hand down his face. “Well, I guess I’m telling you now.”

Y/N sat there in stunned silence. Sokka liked her. Sokka liked her. Not anyone else. Y/N was starting to wonder if she was having some type of vivid hallucination from blood loss. She studied Sokka’s face which looked like he wanted to evaporate on the spot.

“I’ll just go get the others and tell them you’re awake–” Sokka had started to stand up to leave but Y/N grabbed his hand and pulled him back down. She wasted no time in wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him in for another kiss.

“I like you too, Sokka,” Y/N mumbled against his lips.

---

A/N: Did you really think we were going to get out of this with no ‘almost dying’ action?

Taglist: @myexgirlfriendisthemoon @reclusive-chicken-nugget @astroninaaa @aangsupremacy @beifongsss @crownofcryptids @welovediaaxx @littlefluu @lozzybowe @thebluelcdy @ohjustlookalive @sugarmoongey @fanficdepot @teenbiology @13-09-01 @riespage @davnwillcome @naanlianid @creation-magician @lunariasilver @vintagerose1014516 @bcifcng @rockinearthbending-marauders @francesciak @thia-aep @aphrcditeee @milk-n-cheese @solarsuki@sendnuwudes @humbleseame @my--shitty--art @lovingcupcake51002 @loganrwebb @celia-not-cecilia @treestarrrrrrrr @p--e--a--c--h--e--s @velveteencurls @izzieserra @oddment-nitwit-blubber-tweak @salsasadd @nataliahaslosthershit @awkwardnesshabitat @lanie103 @emogril @im-the-galactic-starfish @charlotteisabella @alienmotel @smarshere @crxsshatcht @starxtt @sugamonster22 @natsbelova @mellisophilia @calumsfringe @whatsuphoesandbros @samsmultifandomblogs @ask-kfc-siblings @i-love-superhero @justasukisimp @grouchiest-hufflepuff @zukostan221 @feverish-dove

#atla #atla fics #sokka x reader #sokka x y/n #sokka x you #atla sokka #sokka #katara #toph beifong #gaang #mai #ty lee #zuko #azula #avatar the last airbender #avatar: the last airbender #avatar #avatar resurgence #avatar fic

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regenderate-fic · 2 years

Text

All the Quiet Nights You Bear: Chapter 14

Fandom: Doctor Who Rating: General Ship: Thirteenth Doctor/Rose Tyler, Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan, Yasmin Khan/Rose Tyler, Thirteenth Doctor/Rose Tyler/Yasmin Khan, Past Metacrisis Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Characters: Thirteenth Doctor, Yasmin Khan, Rose Tyler, Najia Khan, Hakim Khan, Sonya Khan Series: And We’re Not Out of the Tunnel Word Count (Chapter): 1,536 Other Tags: Fluff and Angst, Angst, Emotional, Disabled Character, Chronic Illness, Bad Wolf Rose, COVID-19, Self-Quarantine, Domestic, Autistic Characters, Polyamory, OT3, Slow Burn, Disability Read on AO3 / Read in order

Summary: Rose Tyler-Noble jumps out of her parallel universe, leaving her husband and family behind in the hopes that being back in the right universe will improve her well-being.

Yasmin Khan is out for lunch with the Doctor when she sees a blonde woman sitting on the sidewalk, crying.

The Doctor, Yaz, and Rose travel back to Sheffield to see Yaz’s family, but they have to leave the TARDIS so it can reset, and when they come back, it’s gone. The police have confiscated it, and they want to see proof of ownership before they give it back. And the Doctor left her psychic paper on board. And they’ve landed in March of 2020, just before everything shuts down.

Stranded in Sheffield, they have no choice but to get a flat and quarantine together. Which, when you have three emotionally volatile people who care for each other more than they’re willing to admit, can be complicated.

(Sequel to And Still I Will Live Here, but hopefully readable out of context. Updating on Saturdays and Wednesdays.)

NOTES: my chapters get shorter and shorter as the fic goes on but they also get more emotionally charged so. it's a win <3 that's also why i switched to biweekly updates once i finished the body of the fic. anyway enjoy

Yaz feels herself falling apart. She’d been doing just fine, even adjusting to being back in the 21st century, until suddenly one piece of information hit her and she began to unravel. When she was a kid, she used to make little houses out of twigs in the park, stacking them up until she couldn't keep them stable anymore: she'd gotten good at it, too, creating towers as high as her knees, but even her strongest tower would fall over in a second if she pushed one of the twigs the wrong way. That's how she feels now. She's been a tower of sticks for the last few years, stable, sturdy, doing what had to be done. But now, one of the sticks at her foundation has been pushed aside, and the rest of her is tumbling to the ground.

She cares for the Doctor. Her love for the Doctor runs deep, and has run deep for years. But she hasn't been able to admit it. She hasn't been able to look at it. And now she's looked, she's forced to confront the fact that she really, truly doesn't believe that the Doctor could ever love her back.

And to make it all worse, it's happening in front of Rose, who has her own problems and her own feelings for the Doctor and who definitely does not need Yaz holding on to her and sobbing like a little kid.

“I'm sorry,” Yaz tries to say, her words garbled by her tears.

“'S all right,” Rose replies. “Not like I had any other plans for tonight.”

Yaz manages a laugh.

“It's just—“ She sits up a little, trying to force her feelings into words. “She's so— she's so vast. There's so much of her that I don't understand. And so much that she doesn't want to let me understand. How can I know I love her, when I barely know her?”

It takes Rose a moment to respond. Finally, she says, her arm still around Yaz's waist, “You'll never know everything. But the way the two of you interact— I think you know what matters.” She bumps against Yaz. “I mean, she taught you how to fly the TARDIS. I never knew half of what she taught you.”

Yaz can't meet Rose's eyes. “It's just because she doesn't want me to go crazy trying to figure it out on my own again.”

Rose laughs. “And why would she care so much about that, if she didn't care about you?” She pauses. “Anyway, the Doctor's TARDIS— it's like a part of her. She wouldn't teach you to fly it if it were just about that.” She shrugs, her shoulder moving against Yaz’s. “Besides, the way you talk to each other— have you ever noticed, you can have a whole conversation without saying a word? I can never understand what this Doctor's thinking, but you... I think you know her better than you think.”

“Maybe.” Yaz thinks it through. “She never tells me anything, is the thing. I know some of what she's thinking. But there's too much I don't know. Too much she won't tell me.”

“Yeah.” There's a long silence, and when Yaz looks over, Rose is staring off into space. “It's hard, loving someone like the Doctor.”

And then a new question rises to Yaz's mind. “Aren't you jealous?” she asks.

Rose looks at her, raising an eyebrow. “Are you?”

Yaz frowns. She sort of expects herself to be, but she isn't.

Rose shrugs again. “The Doctor's old. He loved people before he met me. She's loved people since. It's not a surprise she's picked up someone new, and it's not a surprise it's someone like you.”

“What do you mean?” There's so much about Rose that Yaz doesn't quite get yet. It's something about her expression: she somehow manages to keep her face totally blank.

“I don't know, you've just— you've got that spark,” Rose says vaguely. “The Doctor likes adventurers.” She bumps Yaz's shoulder again. “She won't admit it, but she likes when people argue with her. She likes to be challenged. After all, thousands of years of life, you're going to want people who give you new perspective, aren't you?”

“Suppose so.” Yaz has never really thought of herself as someone who gives new perspective. Sure, she challenges the Doctor sometimes, but that's just because the Doctor is so stubborn and headstrong that someone has to do it.

“Anyway,” Rose adds, still staring straight out in front of her, “I don't know how I feel about the Doctor anymore. I know how I felt about him. I know I love the version of him I married. But this Doctor— it's like I've said. I can't get through to her. Right now, I just miss my husband.”

“Yeah.” Yaz doesn't ask any more questions. “I'm sorry.”

Rose takes a deep, shuddering breath. “Yeah, well. It's not how I hoped our life together would go.”

Her head falls onto Yaz's shoulder, and Yaz stays still, trying to sort through everything she's feeling. It's such a whirlpool of emotion, and Yaz has never been all that great with emotions: she's always been the sort of person to push them down, run away, do anything she can to escape. But now she's stuck here, in this flat, with these people, one of whom she's been completely and secretly in love with for the last seven years.

Seven years.

It's mind-boggling, actually, that she could have the same feelings for one person for seven years. That's more than a quarter of her life. And especially considering she spent three and a half years away from the Doctor, and her feelings didn't fade at all— Yaz is in much, much deeper than she realized. Or— no. She's in much, much deeper than she’s ever let herself realize.

And now here she is, sharing a flat with the Doctor and the Doctor's ex, although thinking of Rose as “the Doctor's ex” feels like a horrible simplification. Rose's relationship with the Doctor is complicated, more complicated than any regular human relationship could be.

Then again, that also applies to Yaz, in a way. It's not the relationship that's complicated: it's the Doctor.

Maybe the complexity is worth it.

Yaz takes a deep breath. It's time for a distraction.

“D'you want to watch TV with me?” she asks Rose. “Pretty sure there's at least a series' worth of Great British Bake-Off I've missed.”

“Sure,” Rose says, lifting her head, wiping her eyes. “Erm, what's Great British Bake-Off?”

Yaz grins, reaching for her laptop. “I forgot. You've missed ten years of culture. We're going to have to catch you up.”

Rose smiles back.

“I won't argue.”

Yaz repositions herself so that she's sitting against the head of the bed, pressed against the wall. She reaches behind her and fluffs up her pillows, creating a back rest. Rose joins her, crowding in to the small space. Yaz spares a passing thought for how odd it is that she feels so comfortable so close to Rose so soon: she can count the number of people she'd normally let get this close to her on one hand. But it's been an emotional couple of days, and Yaz and Rose have shared a lot. It's only natural that Yaz would get comfortable with her fast.

She rests the laptop on her legs, navigating to the first series whose bakers look totally unfamiliar. It looks to be from 2018— the year after Yaz started traveling with the Doctor.

“So, what is this?” Rose asks, peering at the screen.

“It's a baking show,” Yaz explains. “They get all these home bakers in a tent, and every week they do challenges to see who's the best one. And they've got these hosts— although they've got new ones now, I think.” She shrugs. “It's been a good few years since I've had access to the Internet. My memory's kind of fuzzy. But it's good for a distraction.”

“Oh, God, I need a distraction, don't I?”

Yaz laughs. “Exactly.” She hits play.

Halfway into the second episode, Rose's head falls on Yaz's shoulder, and Yaz looks down to see that Rose is fast asleep. For half a second, she considers trying to wake her up, or maybe trying to carry her over to the other bed, but— well, Yaz isn't exactly uncomfortable, and she can't bring herself to disturb Rose's peace. So she stays still and silent, watching the show.

She must have fallen asleep, because suddenly her computer screen is blank, and it's completely dark outside, the glow of a streetlight casting a pale glow on Rose's empty bed. Yaz is slumped into the corner, and Rose is slumped on top of her, her head having drifted to rest on Yaz's chest. Yaz doesn't dare disturb her.

Although— very carefully, Yaz lifts the laptop and passes it over Rose's body to leave it on the nightstand. Bit by bit, she works the covers out from underneath them both, and she covers their bodies with the blanket. She eases herself into a lying down position, taking Rose with her as best she can.

And then she drifts off to sleep once more.

#fanfiction #my fic #doctor who #thirteenth doctor #rose tyler #yasmin khan #thirteen x rose #thasmin #thirteen x rose x yaz #emotional #angst #fluff #chaptered #yaz x rose #and we're not out of the tunnel #all the quiet nights you bear

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batmansymbol · 4 years

Text

Common Household Poisons

The evening she met Luna Lovegood, of course Ginny had fractured her tibia. And twisted her ankle. Also possibly sprained her left wrist, though it was difficult to tell, because pain was referring across her body like sound echoing through a mountain range. // A brief history of Ginny Weasley’s injuries.

a luna/ginny oneshot

(possible triggers for self-harm. adrenaline junkie ginny has a complicated relationship with pain)

also find on FFNet and AO3!

By the time her Hogwarts letter arrived, Ginny Weasley had nearly died six times already.

She was one of those children—the kind who wore bruises from everyday wear and tear like they’d been fingerpainted. Something in her thin and nearly translucent skin made her susceptible, probably—or maybe it was an issue of sheer physical proximity. The Burrow overlapped on itself, all its elements colliding endlessly like pelagic cross-currents. Even as a twig of a child, Ginny was always clipping herself on counters, doors left ajar, chairs left askew, wood for the fireplace, Fred and George’s experiments, half-full cauldrons, et cetera.

The six near-deaths, in no particular order: two falls from broomsticks; a violent bout of Kneazle Pox; an unintentional whack on the head by a frying pan held by a gesticulating Percy; the backfiring of an old wand; and, of course, the drinking of a potion designed for scouring stubborn stains from glass. This last was the most serious. Ginny was ten. Two hours after the incident, Molly Weasley had a shouting match with a Poisons Specialist at St. Mungo’s who had the temerity to suggest she should have been looking after her daughter more closely.

“And I suppose one of you—” Mrs. Weasley snarled, rounding on her sons, once the Healer had scurried, terrified, from the ward— “dared her to do it, did you? Did you?”

All six broke into protests. “Mother,” blustered Percy, “you don’t really believe that I would encourage—”

“We’d never—” said Fred—

“—ever—” said George—

“I told her to stop!” Ron protested.

“We’re not twelve years old, Mum,” said Charlie, arms crossed, beside an equally indignant Bill.

Molly Weasley’s eyes narrowed to slits, and she leaned forward. All six boys leaned backward.

“She did it on her own, Mum,” Fred said.

“And why would she do that?”

Six shrugged shoulders. Molly looked to Bill, the most even-headed of the family, their anchor.

“It’s true,” Bill said. “She said, ‘Look at this,’ and then she was doing it.”

They turned as one to the girl in the bed. She was asleep. Ginny was scraped elbows and a sunburned face and bruises on her knuckles from where she’d drummed them insistently on the table. She was the picture of exposure, of involvement, of the refusal to withdraw. She would not go through life unmarked.

Ginny didn’t think Hogwarts would be different. She didn’t want it to be. She had no interest in a different world than the one she’d somehow punched her way into—a world where she was, at all times, on the brink of something that might mean permanent alteration. This was the feeling of Chasing, and of being alive: hurtling forward, tackling in midair, risking freefall and immediate vascular rupture, nose bloodied from where it had crunched into someone’s shoulder, always about to fling something into the wind—caution? self-preservation?—because that was the only way to achieve a goal.

So, the evening she met Luna Lovegood, of course she’d fractured her tibia. And twisted her ankle. Also possibly sprained her left wrist, though it was difficult to tell, because pain was referring across her body like sound echoing through a mountain range.

All she knew was that George’s Comet 260 had taken a turn at half-field with a bit too much drag to the tail end, and suddenly she was rocketing over the handle with a scream that sounded nearly like a laugh, and she fell twenty feet and struck field, plowed right the fuck into the dirt, and then she was lying very still on the ground, no air left in her.

Ginny tried to stand and couldn’t. “Fuck,” she said, and then she yelled it, for good measure. If Hooch came down and saw her here, not only having nicked George’s broom from the team storage areas but also having nearly killed herself, she’d write to Mum, and the resultant Howler would probably give her an eardrum injury to add to the pile.

Lying there on the field, she started to laugh. The evening was rolling over the Hogwarts grounds like mist, softening everything. That was when she saw a ghostly figure drifting onto the field.

She was like a mirage, the girl, with her long straggly hair and her round face, her wide pale eyes glowing out of the gloaming like lights.

The first words she said were, “Does it hurt very much?”

An agonized laugh came out of Ginny. “Yeah. Yeah, it does, thanks. You’re Luna, right?”

“Yes, that’s right.” Luna only seemed slightly perturbed. She looked back toward Hogwarts, and then to Ginny. Instead of trying to help Ginny up, she sat down beside her. She didn’t crouch, didn’t kneel, nothing with the expectation of further action, just sat. Ginny, nearly delirious with pain, stared up at her face. She looked like a gibbous moon. She looked like a silver coin in a dark pool.

“What do you think?” Luna said. “Better to try and do something ourselves, or better to go and fetch Madam Pomfrey? I don’t think I’d like to be left alone if it were me, but it’s not me, so, what do you think, Ginny.”

“I think you’re,” Ginny said, dazed, breathing hard. Mad? Something else?

“Let’s see. May I see?”

“Yeah,” Ginny said roughly. “Sure.”

Luna tugged up Ginny’s robes to see the ankle and the tibia in question. The only change in her expression was a slow, hesitant blink, the gradual unfolding of tissue-thin eyelids, in which Ginny could see every delicate vein, over those expansive grey eyes.

“How did you do it?” Luna asked.

“Trying a Rivka Defensive Block,” Ginny said. “I’ll get it eventually.”

Luna nodded, considering. “Well,” she said, standing, “I don’t think there’s much I can do, unfortunately. I’d conjure a transport, but I can’t do that kind of conjuration yet. Unless you can?”

“No.”

“I’ll fetch Madam Pomfrey, then.”

Hogwarts was not a large school, and Ginny saw her often after that. Ginny soon realized that her first instinct—that Luna looked like the moon—had been incorrect. Luna was, obviously, a misnomer. She was staid and unchanging; she had no phases. She had an identical ratio of composure to raggedness every time Ginny saw her: in double Transfiguration, or outside on the lawns, or studying under an orb of light she’d conjured in the corner of the library. Luna made Ginny acutely aware of the way the world tore at her own body, because Luna seemed to drift out of its reach, always untouched.

“Hey, Luna,” she’d say, coming up to disturb her, wanting to make an impact, but she never did. Luna would never startle, or laugh at a joke. When Ginny approached, she would look up, as unperturbed as she’d been that night on the pitch. Then she would look Ginny over and point out something she’d perceived, speaking very mildly; always she’d do that. It became a ritual.

“Quidditch?” she asked in third year, about a scrape on Ginny’s arm.

“Potions?” she asked in fourth year, about a red raised welt where Ginny had burned herself on her cauldron.

“Dean Thomas?” she asked in fifth, when Ginny hadn’t cast the concealment charm quite strongly enough on the love bite on her neck, just below her jaw.

“How do you always know?” Ginny said, grinning. “Budge up.” And she settled in the roots of the birch tree beside Luna as Luna smiled. She thought Luna’s cheeks were slightly pink, but the color was gone so quickly, leaving her as pale as frost, that Ginny thought she’d probably imagined it.

Sixth year, Ginny staggered out of a detention shaking and sweaty. It was Saturday afternoon and the Carrows had kept her for hours, but she’d distracted them from catching Neville last week, so it was all right.

She couldn’t even make it up the steps out of the dungeons. She collapsed on the stairs, waiting for her body to stop shaking.

A figure appeared at the top of the steps. Then Luna was at her side. She didn’t kneel, she didn’t crouch, she didn’t fuss. She sat on the steps.

Ginny looked up at her, breathing hard, and cracked a twitchy smile, her facial muscles still slightly out of control. “Well?” she said. “What do you think?”

She hadn’t even finished speaking when Luna leaned close to her and cupped Ginny’s face in her hands. Ginny’s body flooded with strange chills. Luna’s hands were cool and dry as if she were made of parchment, and Ginny thought about the heat and sweat that were coming from her body onto Luna’s, bleeding some of the way she was into her. She looked at Luna’s small soft mouth, the line of her jaw, her nearly invisible eyebrows that feathered over her browbones.

“Do you have to do this?” Luna whispered.

Ginny thought, for the first time in years, of the bitter taste of the potion she’d drank at age ten. Look at this, she’d said, grinning at her brothers. There was nothing then but to impress, and to shock, and to veer off the roads of the life that had been assigned to her, into something that was wild and her own. Luna’s path, though unusual and untrodden by most, was still safe; the Carrows still hadn’t touched her, hadn’t managed to catch her at anything.

Ginny thought it might not be so bad to be safe, but it wasn’t for her. It never would be.

“I can’t stop,” she said.

They took Luna two months later. Three Death Eaters forced their way into their compartment on the Hogwarts Express. Ginny, Luna, and Neville were on their feet at once, wands drawn, but before they could cast, Ginny and Neville were flying backward, pinned to the wall. Ginny let out a half-yell through the Binding Hex as they struck Luna to the ground, as they bound her feebly stirring body, as they wrangled her upright and backward out of the compartment.

There was blood on Luna’s face. Blood moving in a line down her cheek. It was so wrong that it made Ginny feel sick, the disruption. Her eyes were half-open. She was looking at Ginny, and Ginny tried to scream, to yell, as they dragged her away.

Spring was restless. Ginny was stuck at the Burrow after Ron was spotted on the run. She and Charlie and Fred and George and their parents were all there, moving and shifting on top of each other. Ginny paced the garden and got splinters in her palms from climbing the tree. She wanted to fly, to move, and when the summons came for the Battle, for the final return to Hogwarts, she felt as if she could breathe for the first time in six months. Coming out into the chaos, wand clutched in her hand, she was alive again.

She was at the top of a stairwell, the castle shaking with bombardment, an hour into the fighting, when the Cutting Hex struck her.

The impact flung Ginny across the hallway and into the wall. Her head cracked against the stone. She flung her arms out as she slid down onto the ground. She was bleeding hard from the shoulder, where the hex had hit, and she thought she was probably concussed. She groped around for her wand, which had come out of her fingers, but couldn’t find it.

The Death Eater had slowed in his approach. He was stalking toward her, his wand held lightly in his hand. He said something about blood traitors, something mocking that Ginny didn’t hear, or if the words struck her eardrums, they came through mistranslated into her mind, and anyway, him doing some sort of tragically unoriginal monologue at this moment seemed very funny to her, somehow. A lifetime of dancing around the veil … naturally she would pass through it before all this was over, but did it have to be this idiot?

Ginny started to laugh. The Death Eater stopped walking. He was speaking angrily now, growling or snarling something. She laughed harder, clutching at her bleeding shoulder. She was going to die. She had pushed it too far, chased too hard after the feeling. Luna had been right, after all. Luna. Luna … Ginny thought of her face in the evening half-light, like a gibbous moon.

The man lifted his wand.

A jet of light lanced up the steps from a great distance, a miraculous shot of magic aimed with a Chaser’s precision, which struck the Death Eater in the neck. He flew backward, immobilized.

And then she was there, moving toward Ginny. Luna. Miraculous and light on her feet. Her hair was no more disheveled than usual and she looked untouched. Ginny gazed up at her, concussed, remembering the delirium of their first meeting, feeling it all over again. Maybe every time she’d seen her it had been delirium.

Luna sat beside her. The icy feeling of a poultice conjured onto her shoulder. Luna looked at the wound, at the sweat trickling down Ginny’s face, at her fingers, which were twitching upon the stone steps. Even now her face was calm. “Does it hurt very much?” she whispered.

“Touch it,” Ginny murmured back.

A moment’s hesitation. Then Luna let her wand clatter gently to the floor. She reached out with steady hands and ghosted her fingertips over Ginny’s shoulder. She slid her cool papery hands against Ginny’s cut cheek, her burned neck, her tired wrists, all the soreness in her body. Ginny closed her eyes and focused on Luna’s touch, but she couldn’t be calmed by it, only agitated. More, she thought, more. She moved, her shoulder aflame, the pain coming all through her like floodwaters bursting a dam, and she staggered upward, catching Luna around the waist as she did, holding onto her, propelling them both to their feet. Unsteady, she turned Luna to the wall and lifted Luna’s chin with a shaking hand and kissed her. Ginny’s lip had been split in the fighting and it came open immediately, but she couldn’t stop. She felt Luna melt, for a moment, back into the wall, and then Luna was shaking, kissing her back, sliding one hand up from the back of her neck into her hair, clinging onto her. When Ginny broke back from her, breathing hard, Luna’s face was as she’d never seen it. The unshakable had been shaken, rattled, split all the way open. Luna was blinking hard, staring up into Ginny’s eyes. Her expression was quivering and ecstatic and between so many things at once that it might have meant nothing, but Ginny knew what it meant.

Luna kissed her, and this time it was a Luna kiss, a soft light thing like a moth’s wing to the lip, like a drizzle of rain to the inside of the wrist. She tasted like rock dust. She kissed Ginny’s neck, her jaw, her earlobe.

Ginny leaned forward and took Luna’s lip between her teeth, and Luna tensed, made a sound. Ginny let go, but didn’t draw away. They were a millimeter apart. “Does it hurt?” she whispered.

“Yes,” Luna said, strangled. “Don’t stop.”

#linny #my fic #i wanted to write some moody linny as a warmup for disappearances #and i was like 'ok NO MORE than 1k words'#and of course it turned out more than twice that limit. why am i like this

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lonelypond · 3 years

Text

Parent Trap, Ch. 5

NicoMaki, Love Live, 2.6K, 5/?

Summary: Nico's mom has an opinion on Dia's parenting.

Grandma?

Maki stood, shocked, as Dia slipped free of her grasp and rushed toward a woman who looked EXACTLY like Nico, but taller and with a much more reserved air.

“Maki and Dia, meet Nico’s mama; Mama, meet Maki and Dia, Nico’s two favorite girls.”

“Tsuki!” Dia pushed her rabbit forward.

Nico chuckled, “And meet Tsuki, Dia’s new best friend.”

Nico said everything so easily, gleaming and happy in this open, bright, adorable cottage.

Nico’s mom knelt down as Dia stepped forward with Tsuki, “Hello Dia and Tsuki. It’s nice to meet you.”

Nico was suddenly next to Maki, an arm around her waist and a quick kiss on the cheek, “See, Mama’s not scary.”

Over Dia’s head, Maki suddenly caught the glare of ruby lasers.

“HUG!”

“Dia, don’t yell.” Maki said automatically. “We ask politely for things we want.”

Dia held out both arms, “Hug, please. Pretty.”

Nico’s mom glanced at Maki who nodded. Nico pulled Maki closer, exuding happy, a thrilling sensation, but it made Maki more nervous.

“Auntie Hanayo bad.” Dia announced. She mimicked Hanayo pulling on Tsuki.

Nico’s mom was a sympathetic audience.

“Bad.” Dia continued. “Tsuki sad.”

“And how did you feel?”

“Scared.” Dia shivered and Maki wanted her daughter back in her own arms, but Mrs. Yazawa and Dia seemed to be having a private conversation.

“I’m sure you were very brave. Tsuki too.”

Dia nodded, hugging Tsuki tightly, as Mrs.Yazawa carried her to the couch.

“Why don’t you sit here, Dia and talk to your mother.” The ruby lasers flashed in Maki’s direction again. “I have to talk to my daughter.”

“Mama?” Nico’s hand left Maki’s waist and the nerves surged.

“Kitchen, Nico. Now.”

“All right, Mama.” Nico kissed Maki again, “Nico will be right back. Dia, don’t let your Mama run away.”

###

“Mama?” Dia poked Maki with Tsuki.

“Hi, Dia.” Maki smiled at a frowning Dia.

“Nico?” Dia glanced around.

“She had to talk to her mom.”

Dia started to pull on Maki’s hand, to drag her off the couch where she’d dropped down, legs shaky.

“No, Dia. We have to wait.”

“NICO!” Dia pointed in a random direction, whole face scrunched up with displeasure.

“Dia.” Maki stayed calm, but Dia knew that tone and stopped pulling. “You wouldn’t want anyone interrupting us when we’re having a talk, right?”

Dia shook her head.

“So let’s just wait for Nico. We’re not going to rush off, okay.” Maki patted the couch next to her, “Sit next to me.”

“Pretty.” looking around, Dia pulled herself up, and Maki hugged her.

“Yes, this house is pretty.”

“Nico!”

“Yes, Nico is pretty.”

“Pretty.” Dia hummed mostly to herself.

If Dia was just going to alternate Nico’s name and “pretty” and Mrs. Yazawa assumed that was all Maki had ever said about Nico, this was going to be an uncomfortable afternoon.

###

No wasted time, right to the rapid fire questions. “Is there something you want to tell me, Nico?”

“Maki and I are dating? But Cocoro already spilled that secret.”

“Is it a secret?”

“No, no, Mama.” Nico waved her hands frantically, confused by her mother’s disapproving demeanor. What had Cocoro said about Philadelphia? “It’s just Maki’s family is...conservative and Nico wants to keep the whole thing as much off TWIG as possible.” As far as Nico knew or Cocoro had found, no one had connected Nico’s sexy backstage Philly punk date with the elegant, only seen twice a year at charity balls Dr. Maki Nishikino of the Northshore Nishikinos.

“Is anything else a secret?

That was a very sharp question. Nico paused. Her mother had her backed into the counter.

“What are you talking about, Mama?”

Mrs. Yazawa drew herself up to her full height and Nico flashed back to using her mother’s credit card for an unapproved concert ticket and getting caught sneaking back after curfew. “If you were your brother, I’d think you were introducing me to my grandchild.”

“Huh..what did Cotaro do? He’s not even…”

“Not Cotaro, Nico. You.” Nico’s mother pointed at the door, dropping her voice, “That child acts just like you did at her age, Nico.”

Oh this, this was silly, Mama nagging Nico about grandchildren in a very weird way, “Oh, Nico is just rubbing off on her.”

“No.” Mrs. Yazawa tapped the counter, “I could show you baby pictures…” A sigh, “your father’s eyes were that color.”

Nico had a sudden flash of her Dad, bouncing her on his knee while they both laughed, his green eyes twinkling.

“Everybody...lots of people have…”

“Nico.”

“Mama, I just met Maki. That’s not a thing that could have happened. There’s no way…”

Nico paused, a worried Eli suddenly popping into her memory.

“Nico?”

Nico grinned, broad and fake, “Dia is cute enough to be Nico’s daughter, but Nico is an award winning singer and entertainment executive with barely any time to date.” Nico decided to go with big eyes and whining, “Mama…Nico can’t just....” a slightly crude gesture to put her mother off.

It worked. Mrs. Yazawa raised a hand, “All right. We don’t have to go there, Nico.”

“C’mon, Mama, Maki and Dia are probably hungry and you promised them food.”

“I did.” One more sharp glance, “Nico?”

Both hands raised, look of complete innocence while inside Nico was picturing Eli’s worried face, “Really, Mama. Nico just met Maki. Please don’t make it awkward.”

The huffy noise was no guarantee, but at least the questions had stopped. Until Nico got a minute to drag Eli off somewhere.

###

Mrs. Yazawa and Dia were getting along, Dia offering bits of food on a spoon, while Nico’s mom held Tsuki. Nico seemed to be distracted, watching Dia and her mom, occasionally catching Maki’s eye and smiling. The food was good, a stew with rustic bread, Dia even ate a few bites of bread dipped in stew, which she then placed on a spoon.

“So, Maki.” Nico’s mom’s attention turned to her, Maki stiffened, Nico squeezed her thigh, making the nervousness worse, and Dia spit out bread.

“Ick…” Dia contorted her face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Cold.”

Nico laughed, “We can warm the stew up, Dia.”

“No.”

“All right, then you can wait for dessert. Nico made cookies.”

“NO.”

Nico and Maki both stared at Dia, who was pouting.

“Dia? What’s wrong, bun?” Parenting mode on, dating nerves off.

“Mama!!!” Dia reached for Maki, hugging her hard.

“It’s all right, Dia. You’re fine.”

“Does she need a nap? We can put her on the couch? I’ll get a pillow and blanket” Nico offered, standing.

Mrs. Yazawa handed Tsuki to Dia, “Sounds like Tsuki and Dia had a tough day.”

Dia started to cry, clutching Tsuki. Maki didn’t appreciate Mrs. Yazawa’s commentary. Getting Dia to think about something other than the Tsuki related trauma earlier was the best solution.

“I’d better get her home. Where’s her coat, Nico?”

“On it.” Nico hustled. Maki had expected slightly more pushback, but Nico seemed almost eager to end their lunch. What had she and her mother talked about? Was it Maki? Had Mrs. Yazawa said something.

“Nico?” Maki hated how hesitant she sounded as Nico wrapped Dia’s coat around the subdued child.

“Don’t worry, Maki. Nico will see both her best girls later.” Nico made sure she had Dia’s attention, “Hey, Dia, you take care of your Mom and Nico will see you soon. Nico Nico Ni!” Quick hand to the temple, broad grin, Dia suddenly smiling. “See, Nico’s special magic.” Nico winked at Maki. “Text me later.”

“Okay. Thank you for lunch. It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Yazawa.”

Nico’s mom had a...thoughtful look. Her tone was brusque. “You’re welcome. Take good care of Dia.”

Of course, Maki was going to take good care of Dia. What did that mean? As the door closed behind them, Maki heard Nico’s agitated voice, “Mama, that was rude.”

“Nico, once you see this album...”

“MAMA!”

Maki realized she was standing on Nico’s doorstep, eavesdropping, with a one year old who was about to get restless. Time to go home. What album? Was something wrong with Nico’s business?

###

Nico and her mom were at opposite ends of the main room.

“I don’t want to talk about this, Mama.”

Nico’s mom was pacing, remembering past conversations, “This is what Eli does. You said Maki was probably a patient. And you banked some eggs with her, I remember you telling me.”

“Nico also specifically told Eli there weren’t going to be any anonymous little Nicos running around.” Nico sighed, and hugged her mother, “I trust Eli, Mama. We know her.”

“That’s my granddaughter. I can feel it.” Mrs. Yazawa broke the hug, her fingers digging into Nico’s shoulders, “Don’t you care, Nico?”

“Of course, Nico cares. But it didn’t happen.” Nico paused, her mother’s intensity demanding truth, “And even if it did, what can Nico do?”

“Talk to Eli. Talk to Maki.”

Nico whirled away, a blaze of motion, arms flying, “Nico just started dating Maki, who is amazing, but what is Nico supposed to say? What date conversation is that...We just...” Nico suddenly remembered she was talking to her mother, “It’s complicated, Mama. I don’t want to mess it up.”

“If she is your daughter, do you want her raised by a doctor with no time who probably leaves her with a nanny?”

“Maki’s a good mother, Mama. You don’t know her.”

“Neither do you. Not really.”

“Nico is not having this conversation, Mama.”

A pause, “I never thought you were a coward, Nico.”

Anger. “I’m not a coward. I just care about Maki. And Dia. And Nico.”

Longer pause. Nico’s mom sitting near the fireplace, eyes never leaving Nico. “What are you going to do?”

Nico leaned forward, head down, hands gripping the metal railing of the twisting staircase leading to the second floor. “Nico has to think.”

###

Busy day at the office. But Eli was on time and on track to be done early. Breakfast with Nico had been great, but she missed the twins and Nozomi. Family movie night tonight. Eli would bring home takeout from one of Nozomi’s favorite restaurants and they could talk instead of doing dishes after the twins went to bed. Eli was glad to see Nico relaxed in a relationship. Touring and building a career had been a lonely business for her. Maki was lonely too, so that worked out nicely. And Nico had always been great with the twins.

“ELI!!!” Nico’s voice cut through the office. Eli opened her door. Asta, her very competent, very implacable receptionist had been cowed by what looked like a furious Nico, vibrating, hands slammed into the counter.

“Nico? What’s wrong.”

“Cancel her patients,” Nico snapped, and shoved the little half door open to get to Eli.

“Dr. Ayase?”

“When’s the next patient due?”

“Twenty minutes, but they’re running late.”

“See if they want to reschedule. Otherwise, apologize and I’ll…”

“No.” Nico turned to Asta, “Eli won’t be available until Nico is done.”

The roughness of Nico’s shove surprised Eli.

“Nico, you just can’t invade my office. My patients have a lot of stresses.”

“So does Nico.” Nico slammed Eli’s office door. “Mama thinks Dia’s my daughter.”

Eli blinked, not sure she heard Nico right. “uh?”

“Mama met Dia, was rude to Maki, and then gave Nico a lecture on parental responsibiities. Mama thinks Dia is Nico’s daughter. Tell Nico it’s not true.”

“It’s not true….” Eli’s voice trailed off as she remembered Nozomi’s sketchiness.

“Eli?”

“Just let me think.”

Rough handling again, “Nico said no baby Nicos wandering around. It was my ONLY condition, Eli. You agreed, Eli. You promised.” Nico inhaled, the shout blasting Eli’s hair back, “THERE WAS PAPERWORK!!!”

“There was paperwork.” Eli sat at her desk, puzzled.

Nico slumped in the chair, “Eli?”

“You could just marry Maki.” Eli chuckled nervously.

The furious leap almost propelled Nico over Eli’s desk. Eli stared into angry red eyes, Nico’s mouth contorted with disapproval, Nico in a pushup position ready to launch at Eli. “Look something up.” Nico hissed.

“What?”

“Maki’s records maybe, former friend.”

“Nico, I can’t share Maki’s records with you. I can’t even confirm she was a patient. There’s laws.”

Nico sat up, legs pushing Eli’s chair back, Nico slipping in front of Eli’s computer, “Your password’s still the twins’ birthday, right. That’s another dumb thing.”

“Nico, get away from my computer.”

“It’s all numbers.”

“Of course, it’s all numbers, Nico.” Eli picked Nico up and shifted her to the right, “Anonymized. There’s three layers of security. Let me take a look. But I’m looking at your paperwork.”

Nico kicked Eli’s desk, then stomped to kick Eli’s door.

“Nico, stop that, your temper tantrums are worse than the twins.”

“We just started dating Eli. This will make it weird. And Mama won’t shut up. And…” Nico turned, tearing up, “Dia, Eli. How would you feel?”

Eli couldn’t imagine the gut punch of missing first words, first steps, first...or having no guarantee if she’d ever see the twins again…

Eli started typing and swiping faster, zooming in on the scanned in original pages from Nico’s donation. All the information had been digitally entered, but Eli always scanned paperwork before filing it.

“How did that...?” Eli stood, “Wait a minute. I’ll be right back.”

“Nico is going with you.”

Eli decided not to object.

Now Nico was stomping around Eli’s records room, while Eli crouched to get at the end of the alphabet. Folder in hand, Eli spread it across the counter, picking up one page and raising it to eye level. Then she ran a finger over it.

“I remember asking you if you double checked the paperwork and you saying…”

“No one makes a baby with Nico without Nico’s permission, right?”

“Yeah.” Eli was still running a finger over the side of the form, “I think someone erased your answer and filled in “anonymous donor.”

“YOU GAVE AWAY ALL NICO’S EGGS!!!!”

“No, Nico, that’s not how it works. You must have just matched up with the profile Maki made.”

“So Maki swiped right on Nico’s DNA?”

“Personality, physical characteristics. I remember she wanted an extrovert and someone who liked music. And healthy.”

Nico almost flexed with the cabinet, “Nico is a catch. But Nico wasn’t supposed to be on the market.”

“I know Nico, I know, I don’t know what happened.” Eli could hear her voice waver.

“But I bet you have the same idea that Nico does…”

“Nico, you can’t tell Maki.” Eli pulled Nico by the arm, “Let’s go back to my office.”

“I talked the Yeungs into postponing. That’s it for today.” Asta announced as they walked behind the main counter, pretty sure she only had 20 seconds to get Eli’s attention.

“Great. Thanks, Asta. Go home...oh, please call Noz…”

Nico growled.

“Never mind. See you tomorrow.”

And then Eli was behind a door again. She dropped Nico in her office chair and loomed, “You can’t tell Maki. The procedures aren’t technically illegal, but that’s just because no one links them up. What if she sues me?”

“What if Nico kills you?” Nico gritted out, fists clenched.

“At least Nozomi would get the insurance money.”

“Eli, what am I supposed to do?” Nico had hit a wall, Eli could see the stress and confusion on her face.

“I don’t know, Nico. But we’ll figure something out.”

Nico’s phone went off. Maki’s ringtone. Nico glanced at the message.

M: Your house is so cute. Sorry Dia had a rough day. Can I bring dinner by to make up for it?

“Can we figure it out soon, Eli? Please.”

Pleading Nico cut painfully into Eli. The only response that felt right was to pull Nico into a tight hug like she did when Teddy had a nightmare in the dark.

A/N: Howdy! There's a lot going on here and I'm frustrated by having so many stories ongoing, so I've decided to pick one to focus on finishing and then move to the next one(with a little MerMay fun on the side, because still me).

Also, if I were in Japan, it'd be my birthday, so say hi if you drop by!

#NicoMaki #NozoEli #baby Dia #Nishikino Maki vs. Nico's Mom #love live #nico nico nii #parent trap #Single Parent AU #angst

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eagesoldartblog · 4 years

Note

fantasy au w/ lewthur or lewvithur where one or more of them is royalty/a high ranking noble? no pressure but id love to see your take on it :0

I PUT IN SO MUCH TIME INTO THIS, BEcause this is an actual fic I want to write, so THANK YOU for this. B U T this actually has two parts, because,,, It became ten pages lONG.

Claiming The Prince’s Heart

Sunlight beams through fleece clouds, filtering its rays through the thickets of yellowing canopy, and shining down on the blanket of red leaves coating the forest floor. A torrent of a river is not too far off, streaming water that was so clear and reflective that you could make the stars out in them. Accompanied by her own heavy steps, and the prince’s behind her. It’s been awhile since I’ve gotten to come out here, I’ll have to make sure to give him my thanks. Of course..

“Dame Vivi,” She turns, head bowed, smiling. Unable to help the pull of her lip, it wasn’t every day that she got to see her highness. Especially not like this. With his hands clasped tightly together and eyes darting around every which way, a hint of rosiness blossoming in his cheek- whether it was from the mild chill or his utter delight on being let outside for once- well, it wouldn’t have made a difference. “Thank you for accompanying me out here today. I promise that it has left me with nothing less than gratitude and ecstasy, I will make sure you are rewarded handsomely for your sacrifice-”

“Your highness, with all due respect,”

“Yes?” He continues to smile, but now it is almost perfect, a replication of a doll.

“You dont have to address my like other nobles, your highness.”

Arthur noticably deflated. His prim and proper smile dropping with a sigh and he sags forward, “Thank the good heavens.. I was wondering when you’d give me the go ahead..” He mumbles, pressing his fingers into his cheeks and forcibly massaging them. The ache must have been unbearable! Vivi snorts into her palm- accidentally bumping her nose in too far.

“You know, you don’t have to wait for me,” she explains, and part of her wonders how many times he has, but with a flick of her wrist, and grabbing his attention, she adds, “you could just begin to address me casually as soon as we step out.”

“And let the other guards and ad-advisors think you’re a seduc-ductress in disguise?” Arthur crosses his arms, nodding his head back to the castle with a bitterness clouding his eyes, Vivi only laughed more, “Nah, I’ll pass.”

“Haha! How funny. To think!” Taking a step forward, Vivi takes his wrist and holds it up, pulling him into her, leading him into a twirl, “The one dame they have been sending you out with every season is the one slowly undoing all of their precious work!” His disdain melts away, and he falls with her elegantly- he must have learned the dance recently. Vivi lets go of Arthur and drapes herself dramatically against a nearby tree, feigning despair, “Oh, the tragedy!”

A hand flashes out before her, and despite the anxiety Vivi could feel from its slacked position a dazzling warmth dancing across his face instead, “The Greeks will have a thrill recounting our t-tales.”

“Our downfalls,” She takes his, pulling him into the clearing.

Bad idea, Arthur’s eyes dart in every which direction, “O-our triumphs,” before his expression shifts and-

“Into the great fall of the Hidorian kingdom!” They sing in usion, before Arthur bursts into a fit of cackling giggles, muffled by his own hand slapping a hand over his mouth. Raising her eyebrow, Vivi couldn’t help but laugh as well. But what made him this hysterical..? Dread? Is a war on the way?

“Well, i’m glad to hear you’re still in good spirits, your highness..” Standing straight, she returns to his side and places a hand on his shoulder- ignoring how he stiffens, “But you don’t usually joke about .. that. Is something up? Everything going alright with your healer?”

A shallow breath, and he stands straight. Any amount of cheeriness they just had vanished in an instant. “… Ah, yeah, it’s fine..” Frowning, Vivi crosses her arms, able to tell by the shudder in Arthurs shoulders that there was bound to be more. Swinging around- far too exaggerated than one would ever assume of a prince, his voice spills out of his mouth faster than he thought, “Well! things are-! Uh They are k-kinda difficult! But-! But, it’ll be alright in the end. No- nothing.. Will fall or- be destroyed or- or .. anything!”

“Hm.” Arthur freezes in his place, eyes wide and lit like candle flames, tucking her hands behind her back, Vivi leans forward barely an inch, “I won’t push if you desire, but what do you mean? Surely something must be wrong for you to talk about the end of our name.” Slowly approaching him, Vivi watches his shoulders ride up into his ears and his eyes dart from the trees, the grass and finally back to her. As if worried that someone else will hear.

Cringing, Arthur bites his lip, “Well… I- we… “ In the distance a twig snaps- most likely from a squirrel- but Arthur jolts hard and jumps into a ridiculously panicked pose, eyes wide and eyebrows furrowed together, breath rapid.

“Your highness,” he flinches again, gaze shifting one last time before realization dawned on him… how ludicrous he was being. “This… you cannot speak a word of this to anyone. Understand?”

With a nod, Vivi lets her arms cross and her eyes soften- hopefully lending an ounce of peace to Arthur.

“We-we.. figured I am still a hopeless romantic,” A rush of blood filling his cheeks, averting his gaze, “The priestess worries I’ve been .. st-struck by cupid’s arrow, and considering the curse… I… “ Arms folding, he clutches the fabric tightly and gnaws on his lip- hard enough to be noticeable, and Vivi resists the urge to warn him against it.

But the fear that noticeably coursed through his body. Hard shadows reflecting that onto the otherwise vibrant scenery around them. A cold wind slamming into them at the same time. For good reason too.

That wouldn’t stop her. Moving closer, Vivi resists the urge to take him by the shoulders and hold him close in a hug, “Yes? Did someone catch your eye?”

Arthur pauses, eyeing her carefully. His eyebrows furrowed together and for half a second his lip quivered.

Before his smile- lacking anything real- returns and his shoulders sink, “You can say that, Dame Vivi. Hopefully in the coming years, it won’t be an issue anymore.”

“Why’s that?”

Arthur tilts his head, “You ask a lot, don’t you?”

“When I hear any news concerning my prince and my kingdom, I must know every detail. To quell my aching heart.” Her heart was racing, slamming against her chest. Whatever fear she felt wouldn’t find its way onto her face, however. Not when he was already under this stress.

He didn’t relax. Instead the artificial structure of his posture and expression had become especially more fabricated. “A witch is on his way to the kingdom tonight. Do you by chance recall the name, Lewis Pepper?”

“Lewis Pepper of Paradiso. A promising Witch who stumbled upon the kingdom at the age of five. Possessing the great prowess of a Shaman- able to communicate and control the unknown realm with minor complication. A prodigy who had been taken in by the monks to properly train and learn.” Vivi recites, spouting off the information like it was her own name. Of course she would know his name. All Knights and Dames are required to learn the names and attributes of all known magic users- whether affiliated with religion or not.

Magic never fails, and its power of the three realms is even more so. But harnessable by human beings? Humans who are driven to madness over a single thought and possessing ambitions beyond themselves?

Leaving those of that nature unchecked is a death sentence. Everyone knew this.

Arthur tilts his head, “I’m pleased, then I won’t have to give another explanation. Tonight, he will be arriving here, and we will be performing a ritual. One that will hopefully cure me of this dreaded hex.”

“What-!” Vivi gasps. Mouth hanging open, several thoughts jumbling up and smacking together in a buzzing train of thought, “But-!…” Questions are about to fly, but Arthurs expression shifts from empty kindness and content to a look that a testy tyrant would wear. Daring her. Vivi grinds her teeth, takes a short breath, and straightens up, “Ahem, my dearest apologies your highness. That is excellent news, and I am delighted to hear it. However, I do have concerns.”

“And what would those concerns be?”

Taking a deep breath, Vivi looks him in the eyes, and doesn’t flinch when she meets Arthur’s face again, “I mean no disrespect, but hasn’t previous attempts at this exact thing been a failure? Not only that, but you must be aware of his… condition.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Reverend Pepper isn’t completely human.”

Arthur’s eyes widen for hardly a second, before he closes his eyes and nods, “We are well aware of his inhumane status. In fact, during the ritual, several more priests and witches- all under our own name- will be overlooking the rituals. As well as a charge of Dames and Knights.”

She hums, and her shoulders sag, nodding as her mind begins to drift, picturing the worst case scenarios, “Of course. I can only imagine that there would be ample security.”

“Dame Vivi.”

She straightens up again.

“Would you like to join the onlookers tonight?”

Heart stillen, Vivi gulps.

“I would feel much safer with you present.”

A carriage rolls across the dirt path - its wheels filled with creaking and its occupants spoke silent chatterings with hushed whispers - slowly approaches the secret entrance to the grand Hidorian palace. A sheltered and hidden part of the castle, where no civilian should be able to locate and travel inside without the consultant of the guards and council.

Now, a great gathering of guards, priests and scribes were settled around its gate. The great councils and advisors of the king and the prince stood tall. Lacking care for how their fine robes draped against the ground and was stained by its dirt. Of course, none would dare mention it in the presence of the King and the Prince.

Those two stood in the front and center of the gathering, watching the carriage roll through without a sound.

Arthur shuffles in his spot, fists tightly pressed to his hips. Beads of sweat threaten to slide down his cheek as his anxiety grows with each creak of those wheels. Lip pulled in a nervous frown, Arthur spares the king a look, “Your majesty-”

“That isn’t my name, Arthur.”

Uncle. Arthur spares his uncle a look, and he coughs back the urge to mention how that was inappropriate. But then again- who was going to tell them how to address one another? “Fine- Lance, uh-” As the words come out, it became abundantly clear that he didn’t have a single clue on what to ask the shorter man- who now peers over to him with an eyebrow raised, which was in itself very reminiscent of how he looked much earlier in life when his brother was king and he was a simple black smith who didn’t take anything from anyone and-

“Arthur.”

He swallows back the urge to whine, forcing his gaze back to the carriage. He can almost see the outline of the Witch through the sun kissed tarps- and god did he look massive. Arthurs shoulders sank along with his heart and finally his brain spits out something, “Just- just nervous. I- ahem, I worry if this ritual will work, or if there will be any spies within their group or-”

“There is no need to worry, your highness.” A priestess takes a step beside him, and her comforting presence does nothing to take away the unease on his shoulders. He meets her gaze, and it’s obvious she feels the same. It’s been this way ever since their last.. meeting. Blond hair in tight coils against her scalp, and her look of worry even more prominent, Madam Chloe continues, “According to the advisors, only Reverend Pepper will be present during the ritual.”

“And his companions will not be coming forth into the castle.” An advisor- Duet- mentions from behind him. Arthur spares them a glance, and instead of the usual look of stoic content, there was twinges of worry lacing their features. Much like the rest of the Knights and Dames, as well as the priests and nuns and … everyone.

It did nothing to ease the stress in his shoulders, but it wasn’t like it wasn’t expected. It was always this way. Arthur reminds himself, switching his attention back to the carriage, which finally stopped. Its Coach man lifting the door that held the key to his own salvation.

Stepping out, was truly a monster of a man. Dressed in dark robes and wooly hair pulled back in a conservative manner, and glassy purple eyes shifting to meet his gaze. This time Arthur couldn’t even begin to process the sheer magnitude of him. Not only that but how… terrifying it was to be in his presence. He’s heard many times of what this man looks like, how tall he is, and how strong he is due to his inhuman nature. Except now it was real, and it was triple his expectation.

But despite that, somehow, Reverend Pepper had… such a gentleness to his eye. A calm smile and his presence seemed to exude peace. All despite being a witch. Arthur gulps back his anxiety, straightening up, and looks him in the eye.

“Welcome, Reverend Pepper. We are humbled to make your acquaintance. Was the trip smooth and stress free.”

Pepper, chuckling the smallest bit, nods, “It was delightful to take in the scenery of your kingdom your majesty. It truly is the city of gold. However, if I may, you do not refer to me by that title. Lewis will do.”

Arthur’s throat tightened, nodding a bit too quickly, “Lewis, of course. Please call me Arthur.” He takes a step forward and holds out his hand, suddenly overly aware of his actions when several eyes pin to his back, both from his side and Lewis’s.

One must never knowingly take the hands of a caster, for they may be able to grab your soul through your hand and make you their servant. The lesson repeats in his head seven times before he noticed Lewis tilting his head, amused.

“My, I didn’t take you for someone so trusting,” Lewis says, thoughtfully watching him and- to much of the horror of everyone else- takes Arthur’s hand firmly, “Thank you for allowing me the pleasure to help you, your highness. I will not fail you.”

As the King, Prince, and Witch spoke to one another, the tense and active air growing more screwed up and yet relaxed with the easy conversation. Neither the king nor Arthur paying the frightful bunches any mind.

Madam Chloe feels a presence beside her, and eyes boring into her. Whether or not Duet wanted to speak to her, she didn’t turn her head to him. Keeping her hands clasped together and her eyes trained on every movement the prince made.

Finally, a low whisper, “Do they seem untrustworthy to you, Madam Chloe?”

“No,” she admits, swallowing her tongue back, her fists tighten, “no, the chances of him doing anything is slim. I promise.” Nothing emitted from the man to show otherwise. No malice, no hatred, and all metallic clinks and trinkets within his robes weren’t the angry and swift voice of fallen victims, but instead a smooth, calming voice of a healer. And yet, her stomach twists and folds into knots, and Duet seemed to notice. If they were the only ones present, there’s a chance they would have placed a hand on her shoulder. Her mouth burned, but she kept her teeth ground shut.

Duet must have heard it too, because they turn to her and watch her twitchy movements. They sigh, and turn to the King and Prince. “Your majesty, your highness.” The two turn back to him, King Lance’s expression unreadably gruff and Prince Arthur’s so obviously panicked. From behind them, Reverend Pepper leaned forward with interest- as well as everyone else. Duet continues on, “Madam Chloe and I need a moment to discuss some important matters. With your permission, may we take our leave?”

King Lance stares at them fixedly, appearing uncaring for a single moment until it occurs to Madam Chloe just how much he seemed to debate that thought in his head. A glint being her only hint, and the rest being the grueling sensation of his aura. Tearing into her like paper.

Do not lash out. She reminds herself, hiding her twisting fists out of sight. Only able to hope that he wouldn’t suspect anything from the two.

“Granted,” The king says, snapping Chloe out of her spur and her eyes widen a fraction before she reminds herself to stay calm, unwavering. “Take one of the Dames or Knights with you.”

Duet holds up a hand, “Your majesty, that wouldn’t be necessary-”

“Take one with you. For security measures.” King Lance repeats, and this time they both knew that defying him further would end up with them in their deathbeds. Bowing their head, Duet nods.

“Of course, your Majesty. Please forgive my ignorance.”

Chloe lifts her head more, tearing her gaze away from the king, and landing on the prince. Arthur. Who stared at her, with so much fear hidden in his eyes, fear and terror.

I’m sorry, Arthur.

A knight walks up to them, “Shall we be on our way?” he asks, and Chloe doesn’t respond, allowing her eyes to downcast, guilt welling up in her throat like glue.

“Of course.”

A woman was shackled to the wall. Her feet shackles as well. Her head hung low, and she didn’t move much besides for her gentle breathing- attempting to not breathe in too harshly and activate her sinuses. These dungeons were far too dirty to have breathable air. A harsh stench of a decaying body reached her nose, as well as the freely spoken words of the guards and knights of who to alert.

”We failed to keep this one alive, what should we explain to the Captain?”

”Explain that it was the magician. It appears they casted a spell on themselves to ease them into Death’s embrace.”

The first knight scoffs, or laughs, she couldn’t tell. ”A coward’s way out, I tell you. Can’t even die with dignity.”

She cared to disagree, searching through the murky depths of her own vision to take in her own clothes. Stained with blood, powder, and losing the glow of protection she casted onto herself. Soon, she’s going to become hungry, and shrivel up in pain, wishing for anything to eat. If the Hidorian kingdom was like any other. They would leave her to starve. Or, perhaps keep her hanging onto life for as long as possible, to get answers, to show her origin, to-

Heavy clicks fills her ears, and the knights who were posted fell silent. The scrap of metal gliding against metal alluding to the possibility that they were bowing in respect. ”Advisor Duet, It is a pleasure to see you here.”

”As well as to you. I have heard reports of a new magician dressed in green being locked away in here. May I see her?” Her blond hair falls in front of her eyes as she peers down to her stained clothes- meant to blend in with the nature around her. How could they possibly think it’s strictly green?

”Y-yes! Fo-forgive us for the conditions of her cellar, we-.. We didn’t have enough room to hold her in a prope-”

”There is no need to explain to me, I know that it isn’t customary to bring prisoners to proper rooms when one had just perished. Besides, she is in need of cleansing and washing, isn’t she?”

The knights are silent for a second, ”Y-yes, she is still covered in… magic. D-Duet! Shall we accompany you? To ensure she doesn’t pull a nasty trick-”

A laugh, low and gentle, ”That will not be necessary. Her cellar is close, am I wrong? You do not need to follow after me then. At the very least, feel free to escort me to her. I do not want to keep her waiting.” The smug tone only brought a look of a shriveled man with a snarky grin across their face. She could spit. Spit in their face for all she cared.

”Of course, Duet. We will be you to her right now.” Her arms and muscles stiffen, clenching her eyes shut, she takes a deep breath- despite the rot filling her lungs- and holds it. Steeling herself for anything.

”Glorious.”

Three sets of footsteps, one considerably softer than the others, traverse the dim and dirty halls to her cellar. Sure enough, three silhouettes appear in front of the bars. She didn’t lift her head. Able to feel their gaze on her, locking her in place.

“You two may disperse now. I will handle all proceedings coming forth.” The smug voice, low and nasally, ripples through the cellar just in time for one of the grated doors to open. Much to the displeasure of the two knights, but she can imagine that Duet simply waved them off, because in the next few minutes, the two knights leave. All that was left was Duet, herself, and the dingy cellar. The chains holding her grind together awkwardly.

For a second, there’s only silence.

“Well, hello there, young lady. Or would you rather I refer to you differently?”

Her jaw clenches and tightens, lungs feeling full, tight, ready to burst, and without her own input, she’s looking up at them. Cheeks full of air that squeezed past her lips. They quirk an eyebrow, twisting their head.

Despite the darkness shrouding them both, it was clear they were smiling- but if it was for contentness or asserting, she couldn’t tell. “I wonder what you’re doing that for? Mind to release your breath and explain it to me. I’m eager to learn.”

She doesn’t. Chest tight and instead sucking in more breath.

“Ah, I see. You don’t want to speak to me, do you?”

Her wrists pull, blood pumping.

Their smile drops, and they nod solemnly, “Understood. Well, I will make my case quickly for you then. If you wish to ask for clarification, I would advise you to open your mouth, or show the feistiness you possessed earlier during your capture.”

Shit, that’s right, it dawns onto her again, and her eyebrows furrowing together from discomfort. She had been screaming earlier, as dames and guards overwhelm her, pin her to the ground in the library. Snatching her tools and forcing her into submission. All in front of the Prince she was trying so hard to take down. It wasn’t her fault-! Him becoming king would result in the end of the world-! No one would allow that- Duet takes a step forward, eyes training into hers, and in retaliation she squeezes them shut.

“Rest assured, I have done everything in my power to find a way to ensure your safety, young lady. However, the king is far more stubborn than you are, and he doesn’t typically take much mercy to magicians and sorcerers such as yourself.” Duet hums a bit to themself, “As you can perhaps imagine why. The use of magic to manipulate the supernatural is a skill that is feared by many, especially since magic never fails. You understand why the use of magic is highly regulated and in some cases, entirely outlawed, correct?”

They wait for a few seconds, their smiles returning, “It’s because a magician, such as yourself, assassinated the rulers of various empires and kingdoms around us. Including our previous ruler, who single handedly brought our kingdom to its golden age. Your presence, your assassination of our prince, is nothing but proof that those laws are neceassary.”

She knew, she’s always known. FIguring out magic was hard enough as it is, but with the restrictions, its only more demanding of its user. Her lungs started to burn.

“You are to be executed by dawn, do you know that?”

It slams into her, like a brick. Any remnant of calm shatters like glass and she gasps. Choking, sputtering, gasping for air as her head spins. Executed? Why- Duet takes a step back to dodge the spit flying from her mouth.

“For attempted assassination of our next ruler. Surely, you would have understood that when you came into our kingdoms’ courts and violated our most sacred rules.” The smugness returned, she was in his court, and as far as she knew, there was little she could do. She peers up at him, desperation lacing her oxygen deprived brain, begging. She couldn’t tell if Duet was pitying her at that moment. “But, this isn’t the first time a magic user has entered our kingdom. And you will quickly learn that it is due to myself that they’re still here.”

What..?

“We have a Dame who is quite famous for her work, and I know that she uses magic. It is in her blood, able to summon and borrow power from a god among animals that has sworn itself to her family. It took a long while to convince the King to allow her, but because of her good image, her new found status, it was easier to convince him to allow you a chance.”

She blinks up at him, confused, and mouth hanging agape with questions and worries she couldn’t begin to fathom.

“The prince is quite nervous, and is in need of a priest to help him rest his worries, and figure out how to live his life with a hex plaguing him. I figured, who would be better to help him than a magician turned priestess.”

“A … a priestess..? Me…?”

“Of course. Living a life of celibacy, honor and honesty. All in exchange for not perishing tomorrow. How does that sound?”

“F… fuck you!” She spits, grinding her teeth as rage fills her skin and boils out of her ears, surely her expression was akin to death itself, but Duet seemed entirely unphased. “I won’t do shit for you! I’d rather watch this kingdom burn to the ground with every monster in it-!” Her voice fell silent. She blinks, eyebrows furrowing as her mouth hangs open, starting to move but nothing coming out. A painful, stretched feeling overtaking her vocal chords and leaving her throat raw and strained. She tried to scream, but it only worsened the pain.

“I wouldn’t recommend you continue, miss,” Duet says, his tone harsh and cold, uncaring, “regardless if you live for another century under the oaths of a god or die at a cross made of bones, the only tongue you will speak is truth.” Each word felt like a knife, slicing into her slowly, forcing her body to still and numb, “Only one secret will die with you, the secret of this spell, and your inability to resist the burn of hidden words on your tongue. It’ll feel much more like a hot coal in your teeth the longer you hold it back.”

Her body shivers, crying out as her voice suddenly comes back, stinging tears falling from her eyes as her body sags and her mouth starts to burn.

“Now,” Duet says silently, “why don’t you start with your name?”

Her stomach and arms lurch, heart pounding and nearly jumping out of her chest, up her throat and onto the floor. Before she trembles, and letters connect and fall out before she can stop them- try to.

“Ch-chloe..”

“Madam Chloe,” Duet watches her knowingly, noticing how her arms shook and the way her jaw clenches and almost smiling. God she could rip that fucking face off of their skull if she could. Chloe’s mind screams, fists tighter than ever before. Her body has never contained so much anger, hatred, and regret than it has right now. Before being captured she could scream and fight her heart out, but priesthood was a very different ballgame. And it’s one that is filled with bitterness and fury beyond anyone’s comprehension. Even more so now that her lungs are filled with ash and the ember of a tongue has grown worse.

But a secret isn’t a secret when it’s given to her.

“Prince Arthur has fallen in love.”

“Your highness,” Lewis’s voice finds him through the swarming ocean of madness and confusion, bringing his mind back to the candle lit room, and to the heavy chain around his neck. The weight of it pulling his neck down, and reminding him of how small he felt in the circle. Arthur opens his eyes to confirm if he was still there. Maybe to see if his daydream was real.

Of course it wasn’t real. Arthurs brain reminds him, staring down at the chalk covering the floor around him, the blood red glow of the candles casting hard shadows everywhere, Lewis isn’t here to help you escape, Arthur. He’s here to cure you. Why would you even think that up in the first place? His shoulders tense up like his stomach- soured and sucked in so much it was painful, and he swallows back harshly, shooing away the wishes clouding his head more and more.

Arthur clenches his eyes shut and allows the resulting thunder of his muscles attempt at clearing his thoughts. And when the lingering whispers of hope refused to stop, his logic bellowed. He wouldn’t ever ride away on a horse, clutching the hand of his dame and- and certainly not following the lead of this kind and gentle Witch. The grassy plains and the warm sky was nothing but a fantasy that he desperately wished to crawl away in. Maybe if he prayed hard enough, Lewis would hear and grant his worries and pull him out of that depraved room and from those begging eyes. He didn’t need to look to see those sharp gazes boring into him. Hell, Arthurs surprised he doesn’t have scars from the piercing stares- they nearly burned into his skin!

A throat clears, “Your highness,” and Arthur’s attention snaps up to Lewis, who somehow still looked peaceful even with the deranged lighting. He smiles warmly, taking Arthurs left hand- which was a trembling, shaking fist- and slowly painting on the symbols against the top. The coldness of the paint made him flinch. Lewis didn’t say anything, “You seem more nervous than before, is this bothering you?”

“Y-you could say that.” Arthur mumbles, glaring at the hand in Lewis’s grasp and trying to will it to stop shaking as much as it did, but his words only seemed to worsen it. Much to his surprise, Lewis gently begins to massage his palm and wrist, and Arthur’s heart jumps into his throat.

“It is understandable, Arthur.” Lewis murmurs, words already beginning to soothe him, “These types of procedures do bring out the worst of the imagination.” His eyes flicker up, a small grin dancing on his lips- or was it the light? Arthur blinks rapidly but before he could try and look and check, Lewis was done, and shuffling back to his original spot.

His heart raced, whatever it was. Arthur couldn’t even begin to wonder why the smallest look was sending his brain spiralling. Control yourself, Lewis is just- just trying to comfort you! Nothing more!

Yeah. Yeah, that’s it. Just-just keep reminding yourself of that, okay? Okay.

As soon as he was back in his proper place, Lewis sat up straight and nodded to his right. There was two persons there sat behind two large drums, and upon his signal, they slammed their mallets against it. It’s beat so loud, Arthur could feel it in every part of his body. His mind going numb, and Lewis began to explain,=.

“Tonight, I will draw this curse out from your body and into the amulet you bare now.” His voice was different, commanding, fierce, “Whatever demon is held in your soul, Arthur Kingsmen, it will be gone by dawn’s end.”

#mystery skulls animated #msa #mystery skulls fanfic #arthur kingsmen #vivi yukino #lewis pepper #fantasy au #royalty au #eage writing

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faylor · 4 years

Text

Impulsive

Chapter 3: Break

“Alright, show me what you’ve got, kid.”

“Only if you stop calling me ‘kid’.” Alex rolled her eyes at Tony, her head shaking subtly.

“Sure thing, kiddo. You ready?”

She huffed through her nostrils, her eyes rolling again, maybe just a bit too dramatically this time. “Just... do it.”

It had taken practically all of the previous day for Tony to finally convince Alex to do a full-on demonstration of her abilities, and she had almost been excited about it. Almost. She still wasn’t comfortable with the idea that she’d essentially been recruited as a potential superhero, or... sidekick? - Did the Avengers have sidekicks? - But after learning just how little control she had over these powers, it scared her. And she wanted to change that.

Tony had set up what seemed like some sort of sensors to monitor her, or her abilities, she guessed, in what seemed to be some sort of training room. She’d wondered if this was where the actual Avengers trained, too.

Additionally, he’d set up a tennis ball machine for her to... block tennis balls? It seemed a little weird, but if this was the first step toward gaining control, then what could it hurt? It’d be easy enough of a task anyway. If she can stop a concrete ceiling, this would be cake.

Alex readied herself, lifting her outstretched hands toward the direction of the machine as she settled her footing. Moments later, the first tennis ball was sent flying her way. Almost instantly, she stopped it midair and let go, allowing it to fall to the ground as it bounced to the side.

“That all you got?” she asked smugly.

Tony lifted a brow at her as he hummed, and without a word, he pressed another button on the machine’s remote. This time, a multitude of tennis balls started flying toward Alex, and she gasped audibly before attempting to stop them. She’d managed all right for the first few, that is, until one that she’d missed smacked her directly on the forehead - which broke what little concentration she had. And the machine was still sending balls her way as they pelted her at a not-so-friendly velocity.

“Okay, okay! Stop!” she commanded, shielding her face from further damage.

“Lesson one,” Tony started, pressing another button on the remote to stop the machine. “You’ve gotta be ready for anything.”

“Yeah, I’ll remember that when the city’s being attacked by a sudden tennis ball invasion.” Alex rubbed her forehead, which had developed a lovely red impact mark by now. “Jesus... And how is this supposed to help anyway? Like, can’t we just, I don’t know, figure out why the hell this happened in my sleep? Isn’t that the big picture here?”

“Well, someone said they didn’t wanna run any tests.” Tony lifted a brow, turning to one of the monitors next to him. “Besides, I’m gonna need to get some actual readings from your enhancements and figure out exactly what kind of energy they’re giving off.”

“That’s not even...” The girl sighed, rolling her eyes again. “Look, that’s not how it works. And I’m not trying to be some kind of science project for you, okay? I just... I wanna figure this out.”

“And we will, but you’ve gotta let me help. You’re not gonna be a science project, kid.” There was almost a smile in his voice as he spoke. “And what’d you mean by that? How does it work? The energy? Or... Whatever it is.”

Alex opened her mouth, but hesitated for a moment as if in thought. “It’s... It’s complicated.”

“Help me understand,” Tony suggested, his tone going soft.

“I don’t- I don’t even know where to begin.” Alex felt more than heard the reluctant frustration in her voice. Sure, it’d be easy enough to just spill the beans to him about how she got these powers, but she didn’t know if she could trust him enough just yet. Surely he cared to some extent though, right? The man had taken her into his own home- er, tower, and become her legal guardian for god’s sake. Her guardian. The person who was responsible for her. Just like her mother had been.

“How long have you had these abilities?” Tony’s voice broke her train of thought, and she blinked back into reality as her eyes rose to meet his again.

“I- I dunno... about a year,” she answered plainly, still trying to shake the intrusive thoughts.

“And did anyone else know about them?”

Alex shook her head, eyes darting to the floor. “No. I never told anyone.”

“Not even your mom?” Tony wondered.

Her mom. Who she’d failed to save. Who was dead because of her. Because Tony wouldn’t let Alex save her. Had he even tried to save her? The thought made her stomach turn and her blood run cold. And now her head was spinning with the thoughts.

No. She couldn’t lose it. Not now. She had to calm down. She had to focus. She had to figure this out. Tony was here to help. He was. She had to remind herself.

“No,” she repeated, her voice dropping to a low rasp. “I didn’t want her to freak out.”

Tony hummed, his head nodding ever so slightly. “I get that.”

But did he? Did he know what it was like to hide something like this? To be so scared of how people would react? Of course he didn’t, because he was Iron Man. He’d announced it so boastfully on live TV without a care. He didn’t even try to hide it. But that’s who he was, right? A boastful, overly-confident billionaire who constantly wanted to show off his toys.

But she wasn’t him. She wasn’t rich, or proud. She was normal. But... not normal. She was a freak. It wasn’t like she had some fancy suit that she’d built in a lab that supplied her abilities. She had weird, unnatural powers that she was sure would get her, at the least, ostracized, or even hauled away to some secret government facility to be experimented on, were anyone to find out.

Tony had seen her use them. She wondered if anyone else had that day. She hadn’t really thought about that. And now that she had... What if someone else had seen and decided to hurt her?

“Kid?” Tony’s voice brought her out of her thought. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Fine,” she lied.

“You don’t look it,” he pressed.

“I said I’m fine.” Her tone shifted to match her slight agitation. She hadn’t even meant for it to come out in agitation, though. It was like that was the only way her brain knew how to express what she was feeling. And she’d always been like that, ever since she could remember. She wasn’t exactly the best at talking through emotions, and everything seemed to just come out as, well, anger.

“Just... Can we move on to the next not test?” She gestured her hand in a waving motion, causing Tony to raise a curious brow.

“You sure you don’t wanna stick with those terrifying tennis balls, kid?”

She sighed through her nostrils, a forced smirk forming on her lips. “Positive.”

So Tony led her toward the area in the room where there were weights, at which Alex crinkled her brows before turning to him again.

“What? You’ve never lifted weights before?” he quipped.

“Do I look like I lift weights?”

“Not with those twigs you call arms, you don’t.” Alex scoffed in exaggerated offense at his words. “But we can work on that later. For now, I want you to move them with your powers, see how how can handle and control a cluster of them. You think you can do that?”

“I guess I can try.” Her tone was leaning on caustic as she trudged over to the weight racks. “As long as you don’t hurl these at me, I think I’ll be fine.” She threw a forged smile in his direction.

Moments later, she was moving the weights with a raise of her hands. It was easy enough, and she added more weights one by one, using her abilities to make them practically dance in the air. She hadn’t realized it was a mistake to migrate them directly above her until those grim thoughts had taken over her concentration.

Her mind reluctantly translated the metal weights into concrete fragments and suddenly she was surrounded in dust, smoke, screams. Her throat was dry and her legs were trembling. The walls were closing in and falling. Falling. Falling on her. Falling on her mom. Her mom. She could’ve saved her. She could’ve saved her. It was her fault. Her fault.

“Alex!” Tony’s voice cut through her thoughts, and she gasped, realizing she’d lost focus on the weights above her. But she couldn’t breathe, and everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t focus. Focus. Focus!

Choking on a gasp, she managed to lift her arms just in time to force the weights to the front of her as she staggered backward. The weights landed to the ground mere inches from her in a loud clatter. Alex stared at them with wide eyes as her breath became heavier. She’d almost been crushed. She’d almost let them fall on her. Like the building had fallen on her mom.

“Kid?” Tony rushed to the teenager’s side, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You alright?”

“No! Don’t touch me!” she hissed as she pulled away from him. He backed away, looking all but shocked.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“Sorry. I- I should’ve...” she stammered. The girl could’ve been mistaken for a deer caught in headlights as her glassy eyes found their way back to the weights on the floor.

“It’s fine, kid. You’re fine,” Tony tried to reassure, but Alex’s face had turned cold, grim, pale.

“It’s my fault...” her voice was suddenly small and quiet.

“It was an accident. We’ll just hold off on the heavy duty stuff for a while, okay?”

“I couldn’t focus. I- I’m sorry. It’s my fault.”

“It’s not your fault, alright?” He paused. “What happened?”

“I don’t... I don’t know.” Except she did. She’d let those damn thoughts invade her mind. The same ones ripped straight from her nightmares, and they were now bleeding into her conscience, unhinged and unwelcome. But how could she even begin to explain that to him

“I just- I lost focus, I guess,” she continued, her fingers fidgeting with one another. Tony studied her expression for a moment as if he were trying to mentally solve a puzzle.

Funny enough, that’s pretty much what Alex felt was going on within her mind. A jigsaw puzzle with far too many pieces made up of thoughts that tried to configure themselves to make sense, but failing miserably to do so. Instead, they were jammed around inside her head, scrambling as they fit into all the wrong places.

“Why don’t we take a break?” Tony suggested.

“No, I’m fine.” Alex shook her head, blinking rapidly for a second. “I’m good.”

“Yeah, you’re clearly not fine, kid.”

“Stop calling me a kid.” Her voice raised a bit as she spoke. She wasn’t a kid. She didn’t want to be treated like one, and she wasn’t one. Honestly, she hasn’t really meant for her words to come out that harshly, but her head was still spinning and she was frustrated and scared and now even he was saying that she wasn’t fine and... And she just wanted to shove it all away from her. But he was pushing her in a direction she didn’t want to go.

“Okay. Alright, Alex. Just calm down.”

Calm down? She was trying to. But it was like her head was pounding and taunting her, deafening any reasoning that she tried to use to calm it. She just wanted to scream.

“Don’t tell me to calm down.”

At that, Tony held up his hands in defense. “I’m just trying to help you here.”

“Help me?” Alex snapped. “You mean like you helped my mom?” The question was out of her mouth before she’d even caught it. Oh, she wanted to take it back right then, but Tony had retorted before she got the chance.

“I did try, Alex. I really did.”

“What a great job you did there, huh?”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.” His voice wavered ever so slightly.

“No, I do. And I wanted to save her! I tried! But- But you wouldn’t let me!” Her voice was nearly cracking as her hands stiffened at her sides. “I could’ve saved her.”

“You don’t know that, Alex.” Tony’s own voice was much calmer this time as he took a slight step toward her.

“Neither do you! But I could’ve tried!” she emphasized again. Her hands suddenly clinched tightly into fists, and the floor at her feet instantly formed small cracks at the same moment. “And she died! She’s dead!” Her voice was breaking now, the cracks on the floor growing as anger filled her voice. She hadn’t even noticed them.

But Tony did. He glanced down at the cracks, eyes slightly widening at the sight. “Alex...”

His gaze once again found her own eyes that were now beginning to well with tears. But she couldn’t cry. Not now. Not in front of him. She needed to get away. To breathe. She was so mad - no, she was furious. He just- He didn’t understand!

“I get it. Believe me, I do. But you need to calm-“

“No!” Alex cut him off, her voice all but yelling at this point. “How the hell could you possibly understand?” She huffed, brows wrinkling together as she continued. “You know, if you weren’t going to let me save her, you might’ve at least done a little more to try and save her yourself, Iron Man.” She threw the title in bitterly.

“Alex... You can’t...” He hesitated, his voice sounding small. Defeated. “You can’t save everyone.”

Her expression turned to a mixture of hurt and shock. How could he say that? It wasn’t fair! It was bullshit!

“Fuck you...” The words escaped before Alex could even think about them, voice now trembling. And then she was turning on her heels and exiting the room with haste, ignoring the fact that Tony had called after her, and finally allowing the tears to escape from her eyes once she was sure no one could see her.

She rushed to the elevator, pressing the button maybe a little too angrily and quickly wiped at her eyes as she stepped inside. Once she’d arrived on the appropriate floor, she all but ran to her room, slamming the door behind her before her back slid down it. And now she was slumped on the floor, her knees pressing against her chest as an exasperated sob escaped her mouth. She felt so stupid. She was crying and she felt so dumb for it.

But she couldn’t stop. It was almost as if a wave of grief had crashed on top of her and now she was soaked in it. So she cried, the sobs wracking her body. She hadn’t let herself cry like this since... Since the day of the earthquake. Her head was spinning. Her lungs were on fire. Her eyes stung. Her whole body shook. She felt so dumb and weak and vulnerable and-

Crack.

Alex gasped, her head whipping up at the loud noise as she tried to steady her breathing. What the hell was that? It sounded like it was right on top of her. She furiously wiped at her eyes before slowly turning her head to the right, and then she’d noticed it. Her eyes widened as she saw a rather large fracture in the wall next to her.

“Shit...” she muttered between uneven breaths. She had... broken the wall? But how? She thought she could only move things. That’s what she did. She just moved things without touching them. But this... This was new. She didn’t even mean to. Hadn’t even thought about it. So how...

This wasn’t good. Not only were her thoughts and emotions going haywire, but now her powers, too? God she was so scared. And angry. And she didn’t have anyone to blame but herself. She’d done this to herself. It was her fault. Her fault. Her fault. Her fault! Her fau-

The sudden knock on her door caused her to jump.

Shit.

Add this to the list of things she had to try and explain to Tony Stark today.

Tag list: @zissa93 @mala-sadas @romeoandjulietyouwish

If you would like to be on my tag list, please let me know!

#Impulsive #faylor writes #fanfic #fanfiction #iron dad #irondad #marvel #mcu #avengers

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caandlelit · 5 years

Text

dabihawks and the villainsquad christmas drabble bc its crimas!!

im like late but its my dads bday on christmas so I was understandably busy

oh my god my dad is jesus

hawks has been with the league for several months

hes on their side

kinda

its complicated

but he knows them well and hes pretty close to the vanguard action squad

and he thinks he knows them well enough that hes not surprised by the heights that their bullshit will go anymore

welp

toga himiko is here in an ugly christmas sweater to dangle a twig of sad looking mistletoe that says ‘ding dong u are wrong’ in his face

he is understandably surprised when dabi nudges him as they walk to the meeting on christmas eve and says

“dont freak out”

hes like ‘???what?’

and hawks looks up at the door of the league hq as he steps inside, shivering even though hes wearing two hoodies and leggings under his jeans and he immediately blinks thrice in quick succession and is gaping in an unflattering way

bc the entire bar is covered in christmassy décor.

the counter looks like a tinsel monster threw up on it, jingle bell rock is playing in the background, there is a fire place with many many meticulously labeled socks hung above it precariously, looking like theyre gonna be set on fire any second now, and every villain in the league is wearing an ugly christmas sweater, some of them looking resigned, some of them looking confusingly ecstatic

hes just wide eyed

dabi snickers beside him and steps forward, gently pushes up on his jaw, closing his mouth

“ur gonna catch flies, loser”

hawks is blushing slightly but he ignores it and follows dabi

‘do y’all always go this full on out? bc I can. um. I can get behind this’

dabi stops. looks at hawks.

he looks adorable and shy and dabi is cooing on the inside

bc hawks just wants to be part of this christmas celebration that feels so familial and nothing like what hes used to

bc the only christmas celebration hawks has been part of is his agency’s, and rumi sending him wine each year without fail

he looks just like how dabi felt when he first arrived, ill prepared, to the previous christmas celebration at the league ft the vanguard action squad

aka the first happy christmas he had spent in a long fucking time

but he shrugs it off

dabi, softly but with feeling: i thought u were normal

hawks: what

dabi, tears in his eyes: but now shes coming dont say I didnt warn you

hawks, growing fearful: w-who

dabi, whispering: t-tog-

he is interrupted by toga, naruto running at top speed wearing a horrendous neon fucking orange christmas sweater that satan himself would balk at

she jumps on top of them making them both fall on the ground with her on top of them

toga at top, earpiercing, wince inducing volume:

‘MERRY CHRIMAS YOU HO HO HOES’

*panicking hawks voice* what the motherfuckin CHRIST OH MY GOD

bc jin and spinner are right behind her

5 seconds later sees a resigned dabi and a wildly confused, blushing hawks are being engulfed by jin, spinner and toga as they squeeze them to death

they then proceed to shove ugly sweaters on top of their heads

dabi’s sweater is neon pink with a rudolph the red nosed reindeer pattern

hawks’ sweater is lime green and has actual fairy lights strung on it like they light up

he looks delighted and dabi stares at him sappily

shigaraki went insane from togas badgering and bought an army’s worth of hot chocolate in bulk

the remains of which were distributed by the league to the poor and the street villains

a little warmth for their, cold lonely christmases to ensure that they wouldn't be as empty as before

*excited toga voice* ‘GUYS LETS GO CAROLLING’

*flat shigaraki voice* ‘toga we cant we’re villains’

‘so??’

‘we would get arrested’

‘fuck why are we villains’

there is a christmas tree

and holy fuck it is so big

its huge

hawks has to crane his neck up to see all of it

they make hawks put up the star, which for some reason hasn't been put up yet and is in the art style of the stars from dora the explorer

it was like this

toga ‘well I put it up last year whos doing it this year’

shigaraki ‘im the boss so technically-’

spinner arguing ‘im the second youngest so-’

jin ‘oh fuck no ur not ur like thirty u old man-’

spinner ‘oh fuck no im not u bitch-’

their voices overlap as they argue for like ten minutes while kurogiri hopelessly tries to stop them to no avail

jin ‘I want to do ittt but we should let hawks’

hawks ‘what’

dabi, grinning wildly “oh yes absolutely hes the youngest and the newest”

hawks, whispering angrily ‘fuck u man u know I cant reach that high-’

dabi smugly “im sorry what was that”

hawks, yelling ‘too bad guys im too short I guess the bossman has to do it’

toga, unimpressed and trying to get dabi and hawks to fuck:

‘stop sucking up to the bossman-’ ‘I love u for saying that’ ‘-and its chill dabi can pick u up’

dabi stops laughing abruptly

“what”

hawks, rapidly shakin his head ‘nononono its chill i’ll just fly-’

spinner, also trying to get dabi and hawks to fuck ’YOU CANT!‘

hawks ‘why tf not’

jin, wracking his brains for a solution ‘uhhhh bc we dont want you to put strain on your wings’

hawks, touched, ’oh my god! thanks guys you’re so sweet, but its okay really-’

shigaraki, firmly ‘nope dabi has to pick hawks up im the boss and I say so’

hawks: well fuck

toga films, awing from behind the camera as a blushing hawks is lifted up by a blushing dabi to place the star on the top of the glittering christmas tree

dabi, eyes wide as he stares at the big, soft, pretty red feathers of hawks’ upper back and the back of his head, blonde hair pinned back, and then he looks down at the delicate, fluffy, smaller feathers above the small of his back, and he swallows and feels his face get redder when he notices how it arches when hawks stretches his hand up to set the star into place

then he startles as hawks turns around triumphantly in his arms, beaming and tossing a peace sign at toga, and he adjusts his hold on his thighs quickly and looks up at the same time hawks looks down at him, smiling brilliantly and dabi’s breath catches

he looks iridescent in the glow of the candles and fairylights strung around the bar and on the tree and absently dabi thinks, “toga’s still filming”, but everything falls away in light of hawks’ smile softening as he tilts his head at dabi and he was helpless when it came to this angel

hawks threw his head back and laughed at something twice was saying and dabi’s eyes traced the line of his tan throat

hawks looked back at dabi and smiled, saying ‘the tree looks amazing, huh?’

dabi, breathlessly; “’doesn't hold a candle to you babe’

hawks’ eyes widened and there was a pretty blush painting his cheeks pink and dabi was enchanted as he leant up and kissed him hard

hawks was enthusiastic in his response, kissing back and throwing an arm on dabi’s shoulder, the other hand threaded in his hair

and toga was still filming them and whooping as they kissed slowly and softly in front of the tree, hawks still in dabi’s arms, legs wrapped around his waist

jin and spinner were cheering when they split apart slowly, blushing madly when they saw the league surrounding them

shigaraki, sagging against kurogiri in relief ‘well thank fuck thats over I dont think I could have taken the fuckin ust any longer’

dabi smirkin up at hawks ‘I think I know what my christmas present is now ;))’

hawks smirking back “yeah ;)) a bible ;)))))”

dabi breaks down cackling breathlessly into hawks’ neck and hawks just stares at him lovingly

shigaraki, in slowly dawning horror ‘fuck this isn't what I wanted theyre gonna be worse now abort aBORT’

anyways merry christmas and happy holidays y’all

#dabihawks #dabi #hawks #shigaraki tomura #twice #toga himiko #spinner #kurogiri #bnha #league of villains #hc #hcs

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amara-scott · 6 years

Text

Broken Dream.

part three

Movie: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

Characters: Draco Malfoy x Reader.

_____________________________________________

summary: You doubt that your friends were ever your real friends. And as it seems, your relationship with Draco takes a turn you didn't expect. No one did.

Tagged: @rachelscosplay

_____________________________________________

He pulls at my hand. Running through the rain and wind, blowing my hood off and messing my hair. He doesn’t stop, and I doubt I can keep up for any longer. I can’t really open my eyes, scared of anything really flying towards my face.

“Draco, where are we going?” I yell over the howls of air pushing forcefully past us. My arm trying to cover my mouth as I speak. I blink a few times, glancing at Draco’s blonde hair. He glances back once as well, arm in front of his face like mine and grins, picking up his pace.

“We’ll be there soon!” He yells and I nod, letting him pull at my hand, his fingers are warm luckily. I squeeze it tight, slowly realizing where we’re going. The forest. The forbidden forest. He slows down once we are inside, the large trees towering above us, blocking out some of the rain. The wind definitely not as strong as out in the open.

He doesn’t let go of my hand and I stop, making him turn towards me. “Why are we here?” I ask, brushing my wet hair out of my face and wiping the rain off my cheeks.

“I had to make sure we were alone.” He says, breathing as heavily as I am. I slip my hand out of his and frown, wrapping my arms around myself.

“And you couldn’t have chosen a room at Hogwarts?” I ask and he locks his jaw, combing his hair back with his pale fingers. To be honest, I felt tingly standing here. I’ve never been in the forbidden forest at a time like this. But it doesn’t stop me from shuddering at the thought of what creatures might wander these grounds. I glance around. A small smile tugging at my lips before I let out a chuckle.

“What’s so funny now?” He says, eyes narrowed at me and I roll my eyes at him. I shake my head, looking around once more.

“You’re definitely something else, Malfoy.” I drift my eyes back to him, his expression softens and he smiles. But not for long. I wait, giving him time to talk to me. To tell me what’s been on his mind that brought us out here.

“I know that people talk. Bloody hell, even in Slytherin they can’t shut up.” He starts and shakes his head to himself, rubbing at his arm. I glance down at my boots, covered in mud, leaves, twigs.

“My friends don’t talk to me anymore. Not the way they used to. And to be quiet honest- I don’t know how I could call them friends in the first place.” I furrow my eyebrows and push another strand of hair behind my ear. The rain still dropping down on us and wind brushing around, twirling around the trees.

“That’s my fault, I assume.” I look up and shake my head.

“No, it’s because they- can’t believe I would be happy. Not with someone like you.” He scoffs, but I know he won’t be mad. Not at me. “Not after I was with Cedric.” I whisper the last part, staring at the tree behind Draco, blinking. Tears mixing with cold rain.

I squeeze my eyes shut and turn around, not wanting him to see me break down all the way. I press my left palm against my forehead, telling myself to stop. Losing him was hard. Probably the hardest since losing dad. But losing all my friends, all the people I assumed to be my friends, was destroying me from the inside.

His hand grasps my arm. I turn my face further away and feel the first sob coming up my throat, when I start to shake. Shiver of coldness mixed with my inner confusion.

“(Y/N).” I shake my head but he pulls me around, I open my eyes and his blue ones stare back at me. His orbs seem to gloss over but I doubt it’s tears. “Forget about them, leave it to me. I’ll take care of it.” He says harshly, his brows furrowing.

“Why would you do that?” I ask and he sighs, letting go of me, his hand dropping to his side.

“Because you take care of me.”

__________________________________________

In the castle I swore I felt more alive. I feel less eyes on me, or I just block out more than before. No one saw Draco and me go or come back together. No one saw our tears or our touches. And nobody will know.

Draco was mad at Maya and the rest of my friends. But I told him to leave it, that it’s not worth it. That it would make everything just so much more complicated. And he understood. Like he always does.

Before we split up, him to the dungeons and me to my dormitory, we stop to say goodnight. “If I will be sick in the next few days, that’s on you.” I say and he chuckles, nodding.

“Probably.” He smirks and looks down between us, eyes drifting back up to meet mine. “Good night.” He says and I nod, returning the smile.

“See you tomb orrow.” I reply and suddenly he chuckles. I furrow my eyebrows and he shakes his head at me.

“So we’re seeing each other tomorrow?” I remember today is Friday. So it’ll be Saturday. The weekend. I raise an eyebrow at him.

“What if I say I want to study with you?” I ask and his laughter dies down, his head going up and down, hands in pockets.

“Sure.” He says and I smile one last time, giving him a small wave. Then I turn around, my feet dragging me towards my room and I can’t wait to go to the library tomorrow for some reason.

In the bedroom I see my roommates in a circle on Maya's bed. They stop talking and look up when I walk inside.

"Why are you all wet? Do you mind taking at least your shoes off before coming inside?" She furrows her eyes at me and I see Alice and Grace stiffling their laughter. I know I probably looked like a mess. No need to be acting all offensive.

"Sorry, I'll take it off right away." I say and give them a small smile, still feeling somewhat happy. And I knew the reason.

"Why were you outside anyway?" She asks, standing up and crossing her arms. She didn't say it in a mean tone, but nice sounded different.

"I reckon it's none of your business." I state and she frowns, scoffing and sits back down.

"I bet she was with- you know." Grace whispers but way too loud. I ignore it and the laughter that follows. I take my things into the bathroom, going back and changing so I am warm and dry again. I turn off my bed lamp, turning away from them and pull my blanket up to my chin.

I try to block out their hushed voices. And after what felt like a few minutes, I can't open my eyes anymore. Finally sinking into a deep sleep.

__________________________________________

A knock on my door startles me, I sit up, a puff of air leaving my lips and I stumble out of the bed, too fast. I get dizzy but hold myself up by the bedpost, squeezing my eyes shut.

Knock. Knock.

I blink my eyes open again, the stars gone and I grasp the doorhandle, turning it and in a swift motion I open the door. I can't believe my eyes at first and rub at them, yawning.

"Someone still asleep?" I open my eyes again and no- it's actually real. Draco's hair is neatly combed. He leans against the frame and quirks an eyebrow at me, waiting for my response. I furrow my eyebrows.

"How did you get in here?" I ask, a hand in front of my mouth and try to comb my own hair with my fingers.

"It's not that hard. Are you coming to breakfast or are you skipping?" I glance back at the window and squeeze my eyes shut for a second before blinking them open again. It's beautiful outside today, the storm washed all the clouds away, taking the rain with it.

"I'll be ready in a minute." I mumble and he chuckles, I give him a push to his shoulder and slam the door shut again. Then I hurry. Jeans, sweater and a jacket. Last but not least my dry boots and Ravenclaw scarf.

My hair is knotty and my teeth feel so much better after brushing them. While making a ponytail, I walk towards my door.

"Ready." I pull it open, walking past him and he follows, catching up with me.

"How'd you sleep?" I knew he would ask, not because he was genuinely interested in my latest night. More likely he wanted to know if Maya was any pain. And I would lie if I would say no.

"She asked but I didn't say anything, if you were worried." I tease and give him a small smile but he doesn't look up, rather frowns at the floor.

"I wouldn't be worried. I don't care what she said." He looks up and I stop smiiling, my feet stop moving and he stops too.

"Draco, I don't care either. This what we have- this friendship means more than hers ever did." I say and his frown deepens before he nods at me and motions towards the door behind him. The Great Hall.

"Sure, I know. Let's get some food."

__________________________________________

#imagine #imagines #fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter imagine #draco malfoy imagine #draco #malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco imagine #draco x reader

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charlesxavirs · 6 years

Text

chapel of love | stenbrough

A/N: this is pure self indulgent stenbrough that i seriously don’t have the time to be writing

Stan ran the silky material of his tie through his calloused fingers, sighing woefully at the feeling of the soft fabric against his rough skin, revelling in its comfort; it was the most he’d had in months.

He was never one for woebegone lamentations and maudlin sighs. Cynicism and sardonic observations, yes, but never outright sulking. Yet here he was, sipping at the bitter, lukewarm gloop in his ceramic cup, and counting the birds on his tie. Swallows. His favourite, picked especially for the occasion. He wishes now more than anything that he was a swallow, preening his castle of of twigs, lulling the bustling city to sleep with the sweet swell of his song, flying away without a second glance…

But no. God had made him Stan, a modest accountant living in New York City who was barely twenty six and had just ran away from his own wedding. God had made him a disaster.

He sighed again, nodding in thanks to a waitress as she refilled his cup with a half bored, half languid expression. The incessant hum of the cheap fluorescent signs illuminating the diner did little to quell the nervous thump of his heart. He noticed the way the fuchsia hue obscured the world around him, and despite the heavy guilt that sat in his stomach, gnawing at his insides with an insatiable hunger, he felt safe in the purple tinged haven of the unextraordinary greasy spoon.

It was then he thought of Jen. Throughout this whole ordeal, not once had he thought of his fiancee, though he supposed that it didn’t differ much from his usual preference of time allocated to think about ‘the woman you were going to spend the rest of your life with’. Richie had duly likened her to your first car: reliable enough, something exciting to slip into conversation, but is ultimately a simple commodity that was going to let you down sooner or later. Stan couldn’t agree more with his best man. Well, his old best man. He felt like asking her to marry him had been the right thing to do, more a public service than an act of love. Still, he had a great stag party.

The thought made him shudder.

He doesn’t remember much about it. The whole weekend was tainted and polluted with the unmistakable haze of alcohol, flashing lights, and the recalcitrant sense of ease afforded only by ‘Vegas, baby!’. What he can recollect are brief flashes of a black synthetic wig, the scent of a cologne he doesn’t own and a tattoo of Bette Davis’s cat like orbs that bore into him everytime he took a shower.

He really has tried to conjure thoughts of the four day trip, organised meticulously by Bev and Eddie. He thinks he may have passed out somewhere between the stripclub and body shots, as he woke on a bench, with his head in Ben’s lap and Mike’s soft hands tracing through his curls as he tried to locate the three missing members of their party. He doesn’t even remember how he got home, only knowing that he had showered for a good hour before he even dared to make sense of the long weekend.

Fingers ran over the ink now, hoping that, if maybe he massaged the it for long enough, a light would go off in his brain and his memories would all come flooding back, engulfing him in a smug sense of self gratification tied with being in the know.

The only thing that flooded him, however, was the deep scent of spice and wood and autumn as a body squeezed up next to him at the counter, trying to flag down a waitress. Stan looked up at him, a sharp pang of recognition jolting him upright. The auburn tint of his hair was still faintly visible from under the neon lights, and his jaw was sat as if he was trying to keep his mouth shut. Breathing in, Stan could feel the ghost of worn flannel and buttery leather under his hands and a burning against the inside of his wrist. Something about the man felt familiar and warm, like coming home to your own bed after weeks of being away, and it uneased Stan in a way that scared him. In all the years he’d been in a relationship, Stan had never felt as soothed by another body as he did now. The man’s name was on the tip of Stan’s tongue, but he was afraid that if he allowed himself to say it, everything would become too real and too complicated and too much. Besides, Stan had no idea what was drawing him in anyway. It could be his open stance, of his freckled skin, or the heat radiating from his body. He had nothing to do with Stan’s wild mystery ride of a bachelor party. Did he?

Surreptitiously, he hoped, he glanced at the inside of the man’s arm and kicked himself as a sharp gasp left his lips, feeling betrayed by his own shock.

There, glaring back at him was a tattoo of Bette Davis, a carbon copy of his own.

He tried to act cool as the man looked at him, taking an unsuspicious sip from his mug, and prayed he oozed nonchalance as eyes raked over his stiff form.

“Stan?”

Cursing his obliviousness to subtlety, he turned to look at the man next to him, and found himself staring into a pair of strangely comforting blue hues as his heart thumped violently against his chest, clubbing his lungs and knocking the breath out of him. Immediately, he was hit with the unmistakable wail of the wedding march, the comfortable hug of a gold band around the juncture of his fourth finger and his knuckle, the bubbling elation in his stomach as he muttered ‘I Do’...

It seems now that Stan did more than drink himself to oblivion. It seems now that Stan did more than spend all his loose change on the slot machines. It seems now that being a runaway groom was the least of his worries.

It seems now, that Stan had got hitched. To Bill Denbrough. His best friends adopted brother, who was irrevocably, frustratingly, overwhelmingly off limits. It seems now, that stan was utterly fucked.

#stenbrough #stenbrough fic #it fanfiction #this is shitty ! why am i like this !#OC finace because i didn't wanna do my girl patty dirty like that #niamh writes #works

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acourtofhopeanddreams · 6 years

Text

The Price of War

@akiko-natsuko

Dear Akiko,

It has been such a pleasure to be your GoT secret santa. I hope that you're enjoying your days with your family, friends and loved ones. I also wish you all the best for 2018 and I hope that dreams will come true and wishes upon stars will be granted.

Loads of Love,

Annette

Fandom: Game of Thrones Characters: Jon Snow, Daenerys Targaryen OTP: Jon/Daenerys Setting: Post Canon, Post War Atmosphere: Depressing, dark, hurt Triggers: Mentions of violence and blood Written for: @gotsecretsanta exchange Words: 1733 Links: AO3

Jon felt the snow surrounding him melting while the first rays of sunlight warmed his blooded face. He couldn’t feel his arms or legs anymore. He didn’t even know if he still had arms and legs. But he could still feel his heart beating and his chest kept on moving up and down to breath even though his ribs were probably broken. He kept his eyes closed and somehow he expected death to collect his soul within the next few minutes.

The night king was defeated. All the white walkers he had created were nothing but piles of dust and ashes. The ice dragon was now what it already should have been when Daenerys had lost him for the very first time.

Daenerys.

Jon’s eyes flashed open and he tried to move his head to have a look at the lifeless bodies surrounding him. Instead of cries of victory he heard soft moaning, crying and screaming.

The world was safe. The people of Westeros would spend countless more years fighting over that pile of iron in King’s Landing. Hopefully they would not forget those who ensured they still had something to fight over.

Sam.

Jon pushed himself up even though his entire body protested. The smell of smoke and fire made him cough, but he forced himself to stand up even though his legs couldn’t carry him. He had no idea if the blood on his clothes was from himself, from the enemies he had slaughtered, or from the friends who had died by his side.

Whoever said that victories were sweet, had never fought a war that really mattered. And they for sure had never woken up between the lifeless bodies of comrades and brave young men who left behind wives and babies, too young to even remember their fathers when they would be old enough to realize that they were gone.

Each step Jon took felt like torture. Both because his knees were probably damaged and because he recognized more and more people laying in the already melting snow. He held his breath when he saw Sam.

Sam had known that he would most likely not return home again and still he had been here, not planning on being anywhere but at Jon’s side during this fight. He had been too kind and too good for this world and he had paid for it with his life.

Jon kneeled down next to his dead best friend. He placed his fingers on Sam’s eyelids and closed Sam's eyes while he allowed the salted tears to roll down his cheeks. The salt burned in Jon’s wounds, but Jon barely noticed the stinging pain. “I'm sorry, Sam…” He shook his head and with a heavy heart he forced himself to straighten his back and stand up again.

It was almost impossible to see who was still alive and who wasn’t. The night king and his army of the death were beaten, but there wasn’t much left of the army Jon and Daenerys had gathered either.

Daenerys.

He started to walk a little faster. He had no idea where on the battlefield she was, where she could be. He had no idea if she was alive or dead. He had no idea if she was looking for him too or if she was not able to do so anymore.

Just like so many other people here on the battlefield.

Every time he saw a body with long blond hair he held his breath. And every time he let out a relieved sigh because it wasn’t her he couldn’t help feeling guilty about his relief.

All those people, all those men and women, they all had a family, they all had a home, maybe they had children or grandchildren. And most of them would never come home again. They wouldn’t see them grown up. They wouldn’t arrange their marriage. They wouldn’t teach them all they knew about life. But at least the children could grow up and marry. At least they got the chance to live.

“Daenerys?” Jon stood still when he finally saw her.

She laid on the back of her dragon. Strands of hair had escaped her complicated braids and her clothes and face were covered in blood. She had her eyes closed, but she was still breathing.

“Daenerys!” Jon took a deep breath before he walked closer to the dragon. He hoped that Drogon understood that he was here to help the queen, not to finish the task. Carefully and step by step he climbed the wing of the majestic creature. And eventually he could kneel down next to the brave woman who had not been hiding behind her army, but who had fought at the front line.

“Jon…” Her voice was weak and she coughed and moaned after she had said his name.

“It's okay.” He was not sure if that was true. He didn’t know who she had lost. He didn’t know how many of her comrades had died today. “I'm here. I’m gonna get us home.” He also didn’t know where home was.

Was Winterfell their home? Up in the north where the cold wind blew even in summer. Was Dragonstone their home? Near the sea, the portal to the rest of the world and surrounded by the bones of those who had once ruled the world. Was King’s Landing their home? Now they had rescued the entire Kingdom and had proven that they deserved that pile of iron in the throne room of the castle.

“I was afraid you were dead, like…” Daenerys opened her eyes and she shivered. “Jorah saved my life.” She tried to push herself up, but Jon shook his head and placed a hand on her chest. “He jumped in front of me. He died, so I…”

“Could become the queen you deserve to be.” Jon kneeled down next to her. His entire body was still aching, but he had pushed through much worse. He had overcome death. He had survived a confrontation with the night king himself. Compared to everything he had been through, carrying Daenerys to safety and help would be easy.

“Drogon isn’t strong enough to fly yet.” Just like she wasn’t strong enough to speak yet. “He tried.”

“We’ll send people back for him as soon as we can.” Jon spoke softly and carefully he lifted her up. “Keep your eyes closed.” He took a moment to find his balance. “The sight isn’t pretty.” He climbed down Drogon’s wing again.

The dragon opened his eyes and stared at the King in the North carrying the dragon queen.

“Don't worry, buddy.” Jon pressed her a little tighter to his chest. “She'll be fine. I’ll make sure she’ll be.”

The dragon groaned and Jon didn’t know if it was because he agreed with him or not. But when Jon started to walk away the dragon didn’t attempt to stop him, which he considered a good sign.

“How many people did we lose?” Daenerys had her eyes wide open and although there already hadn’t been much color left in her face she was now pale white.

“I don’t know.” Jon shook his head and kept on walking. He didn’t dare to look where he put down his feet. He didn’t want to know if he stepped on twigs or bodies. He had to keep on walking and keep on going. “Too many.” He paused for a moment. “I lost Sam."

Daenerys swallowed and she lifted her hand up so she could touch his neck. “I'm sorry.” The words didn’t make a difference, but there was nothing else to say, not even for Daenerys Targaryen. “We won’t forget them.”

Jon kept silent.

Sam had been a great warrior. He hadn’t been good with a sword. He hadn’t been good with any weapon. He had never been a killer. But he had been smart. He had known things no one else knew. And he had had courage. He had been afraid, but that fear had never stopped him from doing anything. It had not stopped him from joining Jon, Daenerys and their army to face the army of the death. It had not stopped him from dying.

“We could name our children after them.” Daenerys spoke softly, but her voice sounded loud in the absolute silence after the war.

“We’d need a lot of children to honor everyone we’ve lost in this stupid war.” Jon groaned and he let out a relieved sigh when he saw a small tavern in the far distance, not damaged by fire nor ice.

“We could use double names. Or three double ones.” Daenerys curled her lips up into a smile, despite the huge amount of pain she without a doubt had to endure. “They didn’t die for nothing, Jon.”

Jon wasn’t too sure about that. “War is pretty useless if you ask me.” He licked his dry lips. His feet counted the steps between them and the tavern in the distance. His legs would without a doubt carry him until their survival and safety and not an inch further.

“I hate war just as much as you do.” She swallowed. “I've lost just as many people as you lost and I suffered just as much as you did.” Her voice was raw and she took a few deep breaths before she continued. “War is useless, but sometimes we don’t have a choice. They died so we can live.”

Jon turned his head away from her. He could already smell the fire place spreading it’s smoke and fire. Even though he had been surrounded by fire breathing dragons for months he had missed this kind of fire, this kind of warmth. But he doubted if it would ever be as pleasant again as it used to be, long ago, when he and Robb had still been innocent children who thought Ned Stark would be around for many more years to guide and advice them.

“We will live, Jon Snow.” She closed her eyes and finally gave in to the tiredness, the pain, the exhaustion. “Together.”

Jon stared at her angelic looking face and eventually he nodded. “We will live.” He saw people rushing out of the tavern. His legs refused to carry him any longer and he fell down on his knees in the mud. Before he gave in to his own prostration he pressed a kiss on Daenerys’ lips. “Together.”

#jonerys #jon snow #daenerys targaryen #gotsecretsanta #akiko-natsuko #game of thrones #game of thrones fanfiction

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ellen-reincarnated1967 · 7 years

Text

An Avenger’s Flaw

Summary: You are gifted; you are an Avenger. But you have a secret: when you are induced with panic, your powers take on a mind of their own. Will you still be an asset to the team?

Characters: Reader, Bruce Banner, Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark and Natasha Romanoff

Pairings: Um, she’s kind of a loner but crushes on Bucky?

For @letsgetoutalive

Mental Illness Awareness Challenge

Beta’d by the awesomely talented @iwriteshortstuff Thank you so much Claire!

Panic Attacks: pan·ic at·tackˈpanik əˌtak, noun: panic attack; plural noun panic attacks – a sudden feeling of acute and disabling anxiety

Symptoms: Shortness of breath or hyperventilation. Heart palpitations or racing heart. Chest pain or discomfort. Trembling or shaking. Choking feeling. Feeling unreal or detached from your surroundings. Sweating. Nausea or upset stomach. Feeling dizzy, light-headed, or faint. Numbness or tingling sensations. Hot or cold flashes. Fear of dying, losing control, or going crazy.

Superpower: Freezing Time

Your latest mission with The Avengers was pretty cut and dry. Get in, find the Intel – which happened to be a who, a computer hacker from Des Moines – not a what, get out. Engage, disengage, knock out the bad guys that got in your way. That part tended to be Bruce, Tony, Steve, and Bucky’s MO, while you used your ability to stop time and thus freeze what was happening around you to assist in the mayhem that was a standard Shield operation.

What you tended to avoid were the thoughts that Hydra would also be there, maybe two steps ahead, as it was in your best interest to avoid those thoughts. No one on the team knew, but when you had been captured along with Bucky two months back, your anxiety and panic attacks had come back. You supposed water boarding, electric shock, and regular beatings would be the prime cause of the resurgence of your attacks.

The Avengers loved having you around; you had a great personality, kick ass powers, honestly, who else could make time stand still with just a single focused thought and the extension of hands?

You had stopped many complications; Tony was nearly decapitated by one of his many “projects” in the lab and if it weren’t for FRIDAY’s alert and your controlled focus on the robotics, Tony would probably still be a pain in the ass even without a head.

Natasha was mid-flight on her motorcycle as a stinger was directed her way, nearly rendering her unconscious. With your powers, you were able to freeze the attempted kill, and by the time you released your hold on her, Steve’s shield was in place to deflect the stinger, causing it to explode mid-air in a plume of smoke. Natasha landed safely, burning rubber to get to the next bad guy.

Today though, in sauntered Hans, one of Hydra’s henchmen; the same man that had relentlessly tortured you months ago. The same man now looked at you with predatory eyes, approaching the line of Avengers who had your back. All you had to do was cease his movements, stop him from taking another step as he raised his Luger towards you, but as you raised your own hands in preparation to stop the bullet, you recalled Bucky’s screams from that night. You felt yourself choking on water, unable to move on the table. Reflexively, you felt your body tense and retract into itself, beads of sweat lining your brow. Not from exertion, no, there wasn’t much to exert. You had blinked, and the gun went off, bullet whizzing through the air.

“No!”

You screamed in anguish. This can’t be happening, not here, not now, not when your team needed you the most, but the shaking of your limbs, twitching of your fingers, the numbness creeping down your jaw to your left arm, the detached feeling that you were powerless against the enemy caused you to freeze. Your hands dropped, the bullet mere millimeters from striking your chest plate, and the anguished cry of Bucky as he jumped and tossed you to the side like a rag doll was the last you heard.

All the fear, panic, all the anxiety about losing control of the uncontrollable had finally resurfaced, and had gotten Bucky shot.

Tiny lights flickered over your opened eyes. You blinked, realizing Bruce and his tiny penlight were to blame, checking you over for injuries or concussion.

You had always cared about Bucky, and his strength was something that you had always considered when in the field, like when he tossed you out of the way, but lately you had been stewing on what that strength would do in a less professional relationship. The mere size of Barnes made you wonder if he’d snap you in half like a twig.

Bucky.

“Bucky!” You shot up, rather tried to, but your arms were anchored to the table, straps over your chest. You kicked your feet in frustration.

“Hey, hey, calm down YNN.” Bruce injected a syringe of something into your neck. “This is going to subdue your attacks for now. Tony’s working on something more stable, more…fashionable.”

“Where. Is. Bucky,” you grit out before the sedative had a chance to kick in. As if on cue, in he walked, non-metal arm in a sling, alive. You squinted up at him. “How are you not in a bed like me?”

“Super strength and healing, Doll,” he reassured you. “Rest, we’ll talk logistics later.”

“I’m so sorry, Buck, it’s all my fault, everything I touch turns to ash,” you mumbled as the sedative took hold. “I…wish…I…had…,” you dozed off, “control.”

Two days later you had woken up in your own room in Stark Tower, redressed in yoga pants, a tank top – sans bra – and when you went to lift your hands to rub the much needed sleep from your eyes, you noticed two slender metal cuffs on both wrists.

“What the f-?” anxious, you fought to tear them off, trying to yank them over your slender wrists. When you did, a tiny shock traversed through your body, and the anxiousness you were feeling slowly ebbing away.

“Hey, there, Panic.” Tony walked into your room, holding something under one arm, carrying a breakfast tray in both hands.

“Har, har, Metal Head,” you snarked. “So I guess now everyone knows I’m just as much a freak as the ones Shield tries to apprehend.”

“Don’t worry, Coulson has no desire to commandeer you for his team of misfits. You’re stickin’ with us, Panic.” You sighed at the nickname.

“Tony, can you not call me that, please?”

“Why not,” he shrugged with a glimmer in his eyes, “it fits, just like my uniform is made of…,” he silenced himself, because he knew it was not made of Iron.

“Right, well my panic attacks don’t define me, Tony,” you side-eyed him, annoyed.

“You’re right, but they did almost get you killed,” Tony’s voice was hushed, laced with concern, a rarity for him. He was always there for you, and it was evident in his eyes that he wondered just how long you had kept this secret from him. He looked to you as the sister he never wanted, but was blessed with anyway.

“I almost got Bucky killed,” you whispered. “What if it was Natasha, or Wanda? They don’t have super strength,” you chided yourself. “There’d be no coming back from that, Tony.” You could feel the anxiety strangling your thoughts, all the what ifs, the endless possibilities of incoming fears and struggles, and suddenly the wrist guards shocked you twice, the second one almost sending you into convulsions. Tony was quick to your bedside, the breakfast table knocked over, coffee and waffles staining your comforter.

“Hey, YNN, hey, it’ll be okay,” Tony took you in his arms and rocked you as you sobbed, “I’ll have to reconfigure those cuffs for you, but in the meantime, I have this shirt, it’s like a compression vest they use on children with special needs, pretty much a huge hug in all the right places.”

“It won’t shock the shit outta me will it, Tony?” you sniffed into his t-shirt, “because that really sucked.”

“No, YNN, it’ll just feel like this,” and he held you tight, your chest pressing against his. The feeling of warmth and security quickly pushed the negative thoughts to the nether realm.

Unbeknownst to you, Bucky and Steve had been standing outside your bedroom door when they heard your screams. Bucky held his breath as he watched Tony hold you close and Steve noticed the rigidness in his stance.

“She’s in good hands, pal,” Steve clapped him on the shoulder, “but I’m bettin’ you’d rather her be in yours, huh?”

“Let it go, Rogers,” Bucky snapped and cradled his good arm to his chest, hating that you were going through this mental torture.

Three missions out and you had yet to get back in the field, despite everyone trying to recruit you. Natasha even promised that you could fly the Quinjet, but you could see straight through her. You knew they wanted the best for you, but you were suffocated by the fear that your panic would take over and that next time, your teammates wouldn’t survive.

The compression shirt, or HAC as Tony called it (since Hugs and Cuddles just didn’t sound superheroish enough), was working, you’d give him that. You still wore the cuffs, now recalibrated to a milder shock level, and coupled with the shirt, you were getting better at stopping time.

Bucky took it upon himself to help you recover. Who better, he thought, than the person you had been tortured with all those months back?

You were both sparring in the training room, when out of the corner of your eye you saw Steve toss his shield towards Bucky. The metal disc whizzed through the air, straight for his head. You stretched out your hands on instinct, a blue current of light flickered from the cuffs – a new addition to your powers – and you concentrated on the flying saucer.

Everyone and everything around you stilled and as you walked slowly towards the impeding disc. With one hand you flicked it aside, the other keeping Bucky and Steve frozen.

Once the shield was falling to the mats, you released the two Avengers from your hold.

“Nice work, Doll.” Bucky surprised you with a hug that lifted you off the ground, and before he tossed you over his shoulder you saw a smirk on Steve’s face.

“Why Bucky?” you asked.

“You owed him a save, YNN,” Steve smiled as Bucky put you down. You leaned down and tossed him his shield. "What better way to see if you could do it than when you were distracted, am I right?“

“As always, Cap,” you were smug, but grateful.

“I see Panic is suited up,” Tony ambled in, his armor glistening.

“Tony, what did I tell you about that nickname?” you felt the anxiousness rising, but with Bucky’s presence and HAC, you breathed in and out and calmed.

“Reclaim it, own it, kid,” he instructed. “It may not be who you are, but it sure makes you one hell of a team player!”

“Just like I’m ‘The Winter Soldier’, ” Bucky chimed in, “but without the brainwashing psycho crap.”

“So what do you say, Doll,” Steve approached you, hand extended, “shall we get this show on the road?”

“I thought it was ‘Avengers Assemble’”, you winked and he grinned broadly.

“Natasha has the Quinjet prepped and fueled. How about we assemble outside, that is, if you’re up to a mission, Panic?” You grinned.

“Let’s do this.” You sprinted towards the exit with the trio of men behind you. “One day at a time, YN,” you said aloud, “One day at a time.”

Tags/4ever: @iwantthedean @jodyri @faegal04 @adriellej @stephizzle94 @d-s-winchester @oriona75 @buckysmetallicstump @sammyandddeano @chaos-and-the-calm67 @smoothdogsgirl @supernaturalyobessed @kas-not-cas @iwriteshortstuff @roxy-davenport @chloemac86 @20secspnfam4 @sleep-silent-angel @dauntlessdiva @waiting4thedoctor @mrswhozeewhatsis @adriellej @mayasmedberg @my-supernatural-dreams @jpadjackles @sleepywinchester @sup3rnaturalunkn0wn @faith-in-dean @bohowitch @stilinski15 @breexwrites @deanwinchesterisamazing @bennyyh @sis-tafics @dorky-and-i-know-it @wordstothewisereaders @percussiongirl2017 @sam-reidzugzwang @crzcorgi @sunriserose1023 @savvythedork @sinceriouslyamellpadalecki @celahcain @winchester-writes @charliebradbury1104 @we-know-a-little-about-a-lot @freekryptonitecloud @everythingintensifies @i-like-your-assbutt @chelsea072498 @squirrelchester @chelsea-winchester @thetalesofmooseandsquirrel sorry!!!

@bovaria @captaincorruptor @stories-from-stark-tower bc i admire your avengers fics

#letsgetoutalive #mental health awareness challenge #panic attacks #triggers #panic attack #panic #symptoms of panic attacks #some curse words #first avenger's fic #be kind to yourself #bruce banner #bucky barnes #steve rogers #nastash romanoff #tony stark #reader insert

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lonelypond · 3 years

Text

Parent Trap, Ch. 3

Love Live, NicoMaki, 3.1K, 3/?

Summary: Maki heads to Philly, after some pointed questions from Grandmama Nishikino; Nico seizes the stage; Eli worries.

Another First

Eli hadn’t been sleeping so when Mischa came out and saw her Mama sleeping on the couch again, she curled up against her, humming.

“Nontan?” Eli muttered, but the weight on her side was a light one, “Misha?” Eli was wide awake.

“You have a bed, Mama.” Misha stated.

“I know, baby. I’ve just had to stay up late and I don’t want to disturb your mother.”

“What’s been keeping you away from me, Elichi?” Nozomi drawled, wrapping her robe around herself as she entered the kitchen.

“Well, you.” Eli thought, but she just hugged Misha and yawned, “I’ll be in bed early tonight.”

Nozomi leaned on the counter,“I look forward to it.”

Eli ignored that, giving all her attention to her daughter, “What do you want for breakfast?”

“Caramel popcorn.”

“Popcorn isn’t breakfast food. How about cereal, that’s crunchy.”

“Okay.”

“Here you go,” Nozomi pulled puffed corn cereal off the shelf, “Put some blueberries in.”

“Good idea, Mom.”

“Thank you, baby bear.” Nozomi winked at Eli, “All my ideas are good ones.”

Eli remained silent. She couldn’t figure out, besides her usual matchmaking tendencies, what Nozomi might be up to. But she needed to know details before she needed to do damage control. But Nozomi, unusually, wasn’t being quick to gloat. Which worried Eli even more.

###

Maki was glad Dia was asleep. The Nishikino matriarch was about to make Dia’s Mama’s life very difficult and Maki didn’t want Dia picking up on her stress.

“So, Maki, why are you suddenly flying to Philly?” Coffee was never just a pleasant drink shared.

“Got a ticket to a concert. It’s the only one I can make. I want to pick up a lot of local history books for Dia.”

“Concert? The symphony? Philadelphia is….” “No.” Maki shook her head, speaking slowly calmly, nothing to see here, “Singer, friend of Eli’s.” “Oh.” The strategic sip. Maki countered with a glance at the time.

“Thank you, Mama. Dia was very excited about coming here…” Her mother raised an eyebrow, “Has Dia met your new…” hesitation, fraught with meaning, “friend?” Maki shrugged, “We had a casual lunch. She knew a fun place to go skating. The Ribbon downtown. You should take Papa.”

“I’ll be sure to get the details from Dia.” Her mother was really going to interrogate her one year old grandchild for details about Maki’s date. And then the internet. Oh gods, Maki paled, what did you get when you searched Nico? What kind of things did she wear onstage?

“I really have to go.” Maki stood, going to kiss Dia before she left. “I’ll call you when I land.”

Her mother nodded, “Be careful, dear.” “I always am.”

Maki wondered what her life would have been like if she’d been a little less careful.

###

Nico stared at the message that had just pinged in.

M: So, I’m in Philadelphia tonight. But your show is sold out.

Nico snorted. Of course her show was sold out, all the tickets were gone in two hours.

Another ping.

M: I was hoping you could sneak me in ; )

N: Nico doesn’t do groupies.

M: Does this outfit work? I usually go to symphonies. Then the snap. A short, plaid skirt, textured and torn stockings, the kickiest of designer boots, a cropped NicoNi t-shirt under what looked like a cashmere swing coat. Nico whistled.

“Cocoro?”

“Yeah, sis?” “Find Maki and bring her to the green room. Fast. She looks like this.” Nico handed Cocoro her phone.

“Is she the one with the little girl?”

“Yes.” “Doesn’t look like anyone’s mother.” Cocoro snapped. “Just go get her.” Nico ordered.

Exasperated, Cocoro zoomed out the door.

“And be friendly.” Nico yelled as the door closed.

Nico leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling, willing herself to focus on the concert, the audience, the fans eager for a Nico Ni knockout show. She could feel the buzz, the call to burst out onstage. She never started late, but tonight, tonight, there would be a slight delay because Nico was going to claim a good show kiss from her newest fan.

###

The screaming. It was everywhere. It was insane. And EVERYONE was singing along with Nico, waving lights, hands and banners in the air. And Nico was a shower of meteors, almost literally, lights and energy and sound making her seem like a series of explosions speeding across the stage.

Maki sat on a stool after trying to keep up for awhile when she caught a glance and a wave in her direction from the star of the show. The nosise and bustle was starting to give her a frowning headache; she wanted to have bought earplugs. She caught glimpses of molded foam in the ears of all the staff. Because they were music professionals who wanted to retain as much of their hearing as possible. And Maki was an idiot fangirl in too little clothing to be warm. She pulled her cashmere coat around herself and watched, unable to look away, from Nico executed sharp and perfect breaking moves in summer beachwear. Constant motion and spotlights must keep Nico warm, because there wasn’t enough fabric to.

Maki zoned out, watching Nico in a detached fashion, as she ignored the blur and bustle around her. And then the stage went black, and the audience was still for enough of a heartbeat to startle Maki out of her fugue state, and then when the NICO! chants picked up volume, Nico was suddenly in front of Maki, hands on either of Maki’s knees, curving upward to smack a kiss on Maki’s lips. Maki fumbled backward and one of Nico’s hands reached around her waist.

“AMAZING RIGHT!” Nico was glowing and shouting and Maki was too aware of all the people rushing toward Nico and crowding both of them. Awkwardly, Maki slid off the stool, into a sweaty Nico hug. And Maki was calm for however many seconds that lasted, but then Nico had her hand and was pulling her toward the stage, and her sister, headset on, was covering her mic to yell things at Nico Maki couldn’t understand. At the edge of the stage, Nico turned to Maki, “Encore. Wait here.” And then the roar as Nico walked out for another song, Maki, realizing she was on the verge of hyperventilating, turned and sprinted to where she thought the exit to the what must be a cooler quieter hallway would be.

###

Maki paced. She had leaned against the wall, eyes closed, already caught up on her messages, made a sad sounding TWIG post, hummed through the Nico songs she could remember, wondered if Dia was sleeping okay and if she’d missed Maki’s usual bedtime story. All of that and Nico was still somewhere else. So Maki was pacing. And then a door banged open and there was a slightly out of breath Nico, oversized neon pink hoodie over white and pink heart leggings.

“There you are. Nico couldn’t find you.” Nico waited for Maki to finish her circuit and return to where Nico stood.

“Are you done?” Maki grumbled, then winced.

“Nico’s never really done on a concert tour. Perqs of being the boss.” Nico waved her arms, “Everything is Nico’s.”

“Don’t you eat. Or sleep?” This was obviously going to be more complicated than taking Nico out after the show to the quirky diner Maki had researched

“Yes, Nico eats. We go back to the hotel. Cocoro’s already ordered enough food for three crews.”

“Oh.”

“Did you want to take Nico out?” Nico almost giggled about how cute it was, but the tremble of Maki’s jaw stopped her and she swivelled into enthusiasm, “That sounds perfect. Nico is starved.” “Really?” Maki’s body language looked less defeated.

“Let’s go.” Nico took Maki’s hand, and with the other, pulled her phone out of the hoodie’s kangaroo pocket, “Cocoro? Nico needs the limo now...and make sure everyone is taken care of…” Nico glanced at Maki as she listened to the reply, “I don’t know when I’ll be back. Don’t worry,” Nico winked, “Maki’s taking care of me.”

“I could call a car?” Maki offered. “Nah, Nico’s driver is used to things and doesn’t mind driving around if there’s no parking. And the sound system is crazy good. We can play anything you like, if you’ve had enough Nico.” Maki, with Nico on her arm giving her the complete Nico charisma package, couldn’t keep the huge grin off her face, “Well, I did sit through an entire concert.” “But Nico didn’t sing your favorite song.” “Huh?”

And Nico, grinning devilishly, dropped her voice and “Stuck On You” echoed through the hallway.

###

The third restaurant/bar that had a kitchen that closed early. Maki had growled and stormed out, Nico had smiled, apologized, and tipped the bartender who had delivered the bad news. Then she’d rushed outside before Maki flipped a car or wandered into traffic...Nico stopped, Maki was standing outside the bar, a couple steps down from the door, one arms holding her coat closed, the other holding a phone she might have been shouting at, but she was looking more like crying than car flipping.

“C’mon.” Nico grabbed Maki’s arm, pulling her toward the car, “We’re going to grab a couple of the coolest pizzas in Philly, take them back to Nico’s suite, and catch up on Nancy Drew.”

“Nancy Drew?” “CW teen horror with a diversity of brave, pretty people, and a conniving lesbian lovely. It’s fun.”

“Horror?” “Spooky mystery. Scarier than Scooby, but not too gory. Nico and Cocoro watch on the road so we can catch up with Cocoro and Cotaro when we get back home. You like pizza right?” Ah, something Maki could grab onto, “Yes, I like pizza.” “Did you pack pajamas?” “No.”

“No?” That made Nico pause.

Maki twirled a curl of hair into a thin twine, “I mean I brought sweats…”

“Uh huh,” Nico held the car door open, “Nico will grab you sweats and a t-shirt from the merch stash. Fresh off the runway. That outfit is super hot, but doesn’t look curl up on the couch with pizza comfy.”

Maki smiled, finally, as she adjusted the very short skirt for sitting, “It’s really not.”

###

The pizza was square.

“It’s square.” Maki said, sitting back from the box, sliding farther back into the corner of the sectional, the lights of Philly bright behind her in the floor to ceiling windows.

“It is.” Nico sat solidly center, setting up her laptop.

“And gooey.” Maki pulled a piece out of the pie, examining it quizzically, “Crispy crust, then cheese, then sauce.”

“Smells amazing.” Nico leaned down the couch to sniff, then snagged a bite. “Nico likes.” “Hey!” Maki pulled the pizza away from Nico while managing to lean toward her, “My slice.” “Sharing is sexy.” Nico stared into amiable amethyst, trying to keep her eyes off the slightly too tight V neck she’d pull for Maki.

Maki raised an eyebrow, “Leaving enough pizza for your date is sexier.” “Hey.” Nico opened the second box to wave under Maki’s nose, “Nico bought two pies, with the selection of their best toppings. Paid cash.”

“Yeah, good pizza in Philly seems to be a cash only deal. It’s weird.” Maki sat back, pizza gone in three bites.

“Puts more money into pizza, less money into credit card fees.” Nico started on a slice of her own as Maki grabbed one from the second box. “Philly’s got weird vibes, cool weird vibes, though. All the history stuff adds awesomeness.”

“Yeah, I can’t wait to see the Liberty Bell tomorrow. I told Dia I’d bring her back a lot of books.”

“Nico can make some time in the morning..” “Really?”

“Sure.” Nico wasn’t actually sure Cocoro would agree but the thought of Maki bright eyed and eager wandering historical Philly in search of things to take home to Dia was too cutesweet to miss. “It’s right downstairs.”

“So,” Maki swivelled her way out of the corner, now fully leaning on Nico, “What’s this scary teen show you want us to watch?” “Haven’t you ever heard of Nancy Drew, girl detective?” Maki giggled, “Of course, I have, Nico. But you’ll need to catch me up on the plot so far.” Nico decided she’d had enough pizza and dropped her arm around Maki’s shoulders, encouraging closer snuggling, “Nico is the best at catching people up. So, there’s Nancy. And George, who’s running a diner, and then Bess who’s living out of a van, and Ned Nickerson is working out of a garage and he and Nancy have this relationship that she won’t admit is a relationship and…”

Maki put her head on Nico’s shoulder, still managing to keep a constant pizza chew going, “Where’s the scary?”

Nico leaned over to hit play on her laptop, “Oh, you’ll see.”

###

Voices. Maki must be up. Nico smiled at the memory of an adorably exhausted Maki too sleepy to keep her eyes open through more than one and a half episodes of Nancy Drew. Nico let the coziness on the couch linger for the rest of the ep, but then grabbed a pillow and blanket from her bed and tucked in her surprise overnight guest right where she was. Nico wrapped a robe around her camisole and shorts and stepped into the sitting room. Maki was sitting in the solo chair in the far corner, staring out at the Philly skyscape, mug of something on the table next to her, smiling at her phone.

“No, Mama won’t be back for lunch, Dia. We’ll have breakfast tomorrow. I had square pizza for dinner last night. And cold pizza for breakfast.” Maki waved a slice at the camera. “PIZZA!” came the squeal from the phone, “Mama, want pizza.”

Guess it ran in the family, Nico chuckled to herself, probably best to leave Maki and Dia alone, no telling who else was in on the call and waking up in someone else’s hotel room usually required explanation. Nico ducked into the bathroom.

Dia had been fussy last night, missing Maki. Maki hadn’t missed Dia as much as she feared, but gleamed when Dia wanted to video chat over breakfast.

“We’ll get pizza for dinner tomorrow, bun.” “NOW.”

Dia seemed more interested in having pizza than having Maki there.

“I’ll talk your grandmother into pizza for you, all right.”

“Pizza.” Dia's volume was a shout, “And Mama.” “I won’t be back until late tonight, Dia. But I’ll have a bunch of presents. I’ll read you a book if you’re awake.” “Book…” Dia’s face lit up, “Bedtime story.” “Bedtime story for Dia, about the Liberty Bell.”

“Ring!”

Maki laughed, “Let me talk to your grandmother.”

###

A knock on the door. Maki must have ordered something. Maki seemed to be saying goodbye so Nico answered it. A hotel staffer stood, black waxed canvas duffle bag and matching garment bag in hand, “Ms. Nishikino had her luggage sent over.” “Oh, thank you.” Nico was still in her bathrobe, so she took a good look at the nametag, “Nico will leave you a tip when she checks out, Terry.” Nico took both bags, surprisingly heavy. She didn’t hear Maki’s voice so she figured it was safe to speak.

“They brought up your luggage.” “Oh thanks.” Maki bounced into the main part of the sitting room, “I’ll take that.”

“Nico needs a tip.” Nico refused to turn over the garment bag when Maki’s hand closed over hers. “Oh…” Maki seemed confused and reached for a pocket but the Nico Ni pink sketch sweatpants had none.

“Not what Nico meant.” Nico stepped closer, lips pursed, closing her eyes but not before she caught the flaming blush across Maki’s cheeks. A quick, tingling brush across Nico’s cheek and Nico let Maki take the luggage.

“Did you leave Nico any pizza?”

Maki nodded, not making eye contact.

“Maki?” “‘m sorry I feel asleep…” A mutter, then a sigh, “It wasn’t much of a date.”

“Don’t worry about it. Nico had a great time. I was really glad you came to see the concert.” Nico raised a hand to her temple, “It’s a big change from the first night we met on that balcony, Nico Nico Ni. Nico likes this better.”

Maki, eyes suddenly glowing like Nico had stirred up banked embers, stepped in, one hand sliding around Nico to pull her closer, as their lips fumbled into a demi-passionate melding.

“Me too. You’re amazing.” Maki whispered, still close enough that Nico wanted to bite forward, “I’d love to come to every concert.” Another kiss, even less breath left for talking, Nico pushed a little, “Free tonight?”

And that broke the spell. Maki stepped back, regret pursing her lips into frown lines, “Evening flight. Sorry, Nico.”

Nico slid her hand down Maki’s arm, until their fingers were intertwined, “Can’t blame Nico for trying.” Maki’s grin gleamed, “Are you planning to monopolize my time from now on?” A quickly stolen kiss as Nico said, “Yes.”

“Good.”

“Hey,” Nico, hand still holding Maki’s, pulled her toward the couch, “If you ever want to come back to Philly and stay longer, we can get a crib in this suite. Probably take a week to really find out what Philly’s best square pizza is. I’m sure Dia’d like a vote.”

Giggling, Maki let Nico pull her into an embrace, her head falling back to Nico’s shoulder, “Sounds like fun. Dia’s first plane ride.”

“Do you really want to go sightseeing now?” Nico whispered in Maki’s ear, fingertips playing with the hair at the back of Maki’s neck. “Nico…” there was a shiver in Maki’s voice so Nico’s lips followed the path of her fingertips.

Nico’s hand was now sliding into the V neck of the Nico graffiti portrait shirt, “You can pick up something for Dia on the way to the airport. My driver knows all the best places.”

Maki slid down the couch, forcing Nico’s hand to linger by her ear, “Nico…”

“Yes?” Nico flipped, so that she had Maki pinned down, leaning in, hovering near enough to lick Maki’s lips if she’d moved her tongue at all. And then in a blink, Maki had surged up, her arms around Nico, lips crashing in a completely unguided, stunner of an amorous explosion.

Another “Nico,” more plea than pleasure.

Maybe Maki wouldn’t be making her flight. Or Nico’s concert would go on without the main act. Nico didn’t really care. Time could stop right now. Maki was melting, hair vivid and sexy as she curved sensuously against the pale neutrals of the couch, and Nico, all Nico wanted to hear was how often Maki could moan her name. No audience had ever hit exactly that tone, that grab, that fuel. A new world, just for Nico. Time to explore.

A/N: Howdy.

#NicoMaki #Nishikino Maki #Yazawa Nico #Baby Dia #Parent Trap #Kurosawa Dia #Single Parent AU #Love Live

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magneticmaguk · 7 years

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Noga Erez: ‘I get told by people not to talk about what is happening in Israel’

urveillance states, manipulative media, sexual assault and social media storms – these are natural headlines for any news programme in 2017; less so the themes of an album by a rising pop artist.

For Tel Aviv-based musician Noga Erez, however, songs are her way to “process the issues that bother me about the world”. Her music is clattering, confrontational and takes no prisoners. Dance While You Shoot is an agitated attack on a government that she tells me is becoming “more extreme, more religious, more nationalistic”; a track titled Global Fear speaks for itself. You won’t find Erez writing any straightforward tales of cheating hearts.

“I got a lot of advice not to talk about what’s happening in Israel,” says the 27-year-old, taking off her sunglasses. Her hair is rolled into multiple shapes on her head and, with her structured rain mac made of neon orange mesh, she looks like she’s stepped off the cover of the Face, circa 1998. “People who care about me told me, ‘Listen, don’t go outside and start talking about things,’” she continues. “And for a while I thought, ‘This is what I’m going to do – whenever I’m being asked about it, I will avoid it.’ But I can’t, because the songs are about it. People think it’s brave but I just think it’s… necessary.”

If you take away culture away from places then it doesn’t do good to anyone, it makes that place even worse

Erez is one of Israel’s few breakthrough indie stars, having signed to Berlin label City Slang – home of Caribou and Junior Boys – and one of the country’s most hyped artists (one writer called her “the Israeli answer to a Björk”). Created with her studio partner of four years, Ori Rousso, her debut album, Off the Radar, pairs MIA-style sing-speak and jerky beats with FKA twigs’s cinematic sparseness and an off-beat approach to melody. Some instrumentals have an escapist ebullience about them, all neon sharpie synths and catherine wheels of electronic bloops; others an oppressive, danceable dread. The lyrics are playful yet often oblique – a result, she says, of discovering which English words sound best together rhythmically rather than grammatically. All are burdened, however, by the very relatable feeling “that you can’t really trust the people who are responsible for running your life – your financial life, your security, everything”. At times, Erez sounds like she’s taunting herself, wrestling with that other very relatable feeling: the conscience-scraping guilt of inherited privilege.

“Yeah, I handle guilt on a daily basis,” she says. “Dance While You Shoot is about how can you dance, how can you have fun and live your privileged life when you know that the very existence of your life is something that harms others? I mean, 30 minutes away from where I live extreme things happen on a daily basis. I pay tax to a government that acts in some way [towards that]. Every country in the western world feels that things are happening and the way you live isn’t something to take for granted – but this is near. It’s in your face.”

Even so, Erez describes her early years in Tel Aviv as “very average”. She was born just before the start of the Gulf war in a liberal, music-loving home, where she was encouraged to take piano and guitar lessons before studying composition at Jerusalem Academy of Music and Dance. Her mother writes biographies, her father worked in telecoms and, she adds casually, “fought wars”. Like many Israeli couples, her parents met in the army when they were both doing military service. “It’s really easy, most of the time, to feel like you live in a normal place,” says Erez. “Whatever life you have is the normal life. You need to grow up in order to really understand what’s happening.”

Erez was conscripted herself when she was 18 as a military musician, after an X Factor-style audition for the role. “It’s strange that it still exists because it’s a weird concept, like in the 60s, with pretty, nice-looking singers from the US who would fly to Vietnam to entertain the soldiers,” she says.

It sounds like she got the easy job? “Being a girl really helps,” she laughs. “Being a woman, you’re most likely not to do actual fighting.”

More recently, however, the reality of living in a conflict zone hit closer to home. She remembers when, in 2014, rockets were fired into Tel Aviv. “Alarms would go off and you’d need to go to a shelter and hear a big boom after it,” says Erez. “It took me a year and a half not to freak out every time I heard an alarm. But then it stops. It’s amazing how easily the mind forgets about things and puts them in a drawer. It’s really easy to forget.”

That sort of attitude could be perceived as complacency, and indeed Tel Aviv is often accused of being a cultural bubble of liberal elites, but Erez says her peers are not, on the whole, passive. “People in Tel Aviv are being blamed all the time for being detached from what’s happening. In Hebrew there’s an expression for it: like, beautiful souls, thinking of ideas like hope and peace from afar, and doing art about it, and talking about it in a philosophical way. But I think that people don’t vote because there’s no one to go to. It’s like: ‘How can I vote for someone I don’t trust?’” At the same time, young Israelis on the whole are said to be leaning to the right more than ever. Erez says it’s more complex than that, but that people do feel disillusioned and that the “more extreme” tendencies of Benjamin Netanyahu’s government have “a lot to do with why people think that way”.

Working in the creative industries poses a similar kind of uncertainty. “Being an artist in Israel today is not like being an artist in Israel 10 years ago,” says Erez. Israel’s controversial minister of culture, Miri Regev, “is taking serious steps towards the censorship of culture, closing the funds for anyone who talks about something that doesn’t line up with the ideals of the government”, she says. “I’m not afraid in the way of, you know, censorship in Turkey. No one will kill you because of what you’re saying, but you might face some consequences, like people not liking your opinion and then boycotting your music or art.”

Speaking of boycotting, only a few days earlier I’d walked past an old building in central London flypostered with calls for one of Erez’s favourite bands, Radiohead, to cancel their July gig in Tel Aviv. Erez says she sees both sides to such pleas but can’t help but be disappointed. “If you take culture away from places then it doesn’t do good to anyone, it makes that place even worse, because art and culture is the opposition to the political situation,” she says. If anything, she continues, the liberal left needs what positive reinforcement it can get. “Most of the crowd of Radiohead, specifically, are not the people that you want to weaken but you want to make stronger.”

So far, Erez’s country seems to be on her side. In 2016, the Israeli foreign ministry flew Erez to the Rio Olympics to perform as part of an official musical showcase. It certainly hasn’t dampened the potency of her music, either. Erez wrote the song Pity after a high-profile court case for the alleged gang rape of a young woman in a Tel Aviv nightclub in 2015. The incident was filmed – instead of stopped – by onlookers and the resulting footage went viral, shocking Erez “to my bones” and prompting fierce discussion about the normalisation of rape culture. “Everyone became a judge,” says Erez of the furore. “It was a social media trial, and that was one of the things that really disturbed me.” In the end, the accused were found not guilty.

Erez is uncomfortable with being labelled a “protest artist”: she says her songs are more of a “conversation with herself” than overt activism: she is conflicted, trying to figure out her place in the world. But she does see a future where she could turn into a musician with clearer political motives. She admires artists such as PJ Harvey who “never crossed the border to shout out a message that she doesn’t completely understand. Everyone protests about things, everybody has that tool today – we could all just open our mouths and say whatever we want to say.”

It is why, perhaps for now, Erez is particularly careful about speaking generally about the Israel-Palestine divide. “It’s so diverse and split,” she says when asked whether young Israelis differ from previous generations about the conflict. “There is a conflict inside Israel about those things because it’s so complicated.” According to Erez, “there is a lot of empathy for the other side”, but she laments how, when it comes to the Netanyahu administration, “the word ‘peace’ is not brought up any more. ‘Hope’ is something that people are cynical about because people have lost hope.”

If there’s any hope to be found, it could come from among Israel’s small but diverse underground music scene. In Tel Aviv, at venues such as the Block, Jewish and Arab audiences are said to dance together, united by electronic DJs. “It’s all about trying to form a new conversation and trying to be normal,” says Erez. “This is probably the only idea that I believe in now 100% – building communication through normalising the connection. If that’s something that we aim for, I think it could create some change.” Erez says that she hopes one day to collaborate with Palestinian artists but her ambitions are also that of any global pop artist: to break out of her local scene and make her songs “something that people can relate to from different parts of the world. As personal as the music is, it’s as universal as it can be.”

#culture

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