#also maybe Ill write this fic someday. if I can decide who I want to kill and send to Heaven. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bookwyrminspiration · 11 months

Note

“how did you even get sick? you look ugly. come here.” For Keefe and Tam? Can be platonic or romantic if you want to do anything for it :). Maybe with cuddles because I, personally, am craving the skin

I love your writing btw please write a book one day <33

That's very sweet of you--I'd love to write several books someday! I've got some concepts up my sleeve already. Also, the way I set up their dynamic (a self-inflicted personal hell) the cuddles aren't as prominent as I would've liked to give you, but hopefully the rest of the fic makes up for that <3

idiot boys and stupid feelings <- ao3 link

warnings: sickness, brief reference of the twin's time banished and all associated troubles, but that's really it!

word count: 6.1k

Watching the sun wallowing, meekly disappearing before an unforgiving horizon as it trailed reds and purples and loud oranges in its wake across the sky was a conflicting sight for Tam, who observed unimpressed from the balcony.

Of all the sunsets he’d witnessed, the view from whatever place this was--Mr. Forkle had told them, but he hadn’t bothered to listen to that part; he’d been more focused on words like “resurgence” and “outbreak” and “victims,” the more important things--wasn’t one to stand out. A simple skyline, typical colors. The sun could do better.

A frown started to surface, but instead of letting it breach, he reached to tug on his bangs instead, the one habit he could never seem to break.

Cool air washed over his face, chilling the drying sweat sticking to his skin, a remnant of the efforts he’d exhausted, that they were all exhausting.

Over an hour ago, their group had dispersed to their various assignments, each to return to Wherever-the-hell once they’d finished their parts; he’d been done first, and was now alone in the hideout--as alone as one could be when they were always watched.

The balcony sat perched over a tumbling, mountainous expanse, sloping down into the night, a twisted metal railing decorated with florals and feathers encasing it. The wide doors were fully open behind him, allowing the light from the room beyond to spill into the creeping night and the cool, fresh air in.

As he stood there, he pretended he couldn’t feel the eyes of this place, examining his hand for traces of shadow, darkness caught under his nails, averting his gaze from that uninspiring sunset. From the memories they stirred.

Another sunset meant another day survived, but another night to face. Time without reliable warmth, with impaired sight, things moving in the night, fitful sleep.

Tam’s mouth twitched, more of the frown slipping out, shoving those thoughts aside and finding the nearest other to latch onto and distract himself.

Which landed him on blonde hair, pale eyes, bags creeping beneath them, charcoal smudges on fingertips.

And something…off.

Of all the people to think about, he didn’t have to settle on Keefe, how he’d seemed…fuzzy, ill-alert, at their “meeting” earlier. There were over a dozen people in the room, and he made it his business to watch each and every one of them, to be prepared just in case--

But, regardless of how many people he observed, his thoughts snagged on Keefe. There was something unspoken about him, something festering, something that had made him want to leave him behind. Give his piece of the assignment to someone else.

Instead, he’d decided that, with the least important piece of their puzzle, Keefe was the least of his troubles.

It had been a surprise, actually, to return to the hideout and find himself the first one back, he’d been so sure that with such a small responsibility Keefe would be impatiently pacing the place, about the track someone down to join them instead of waiting for them all to reconvene while complaining about how miniscule his job had been.

Tam’s thoughts were interrupted by the soft, dragging sound of approaching footsteps.

He stilled, darkness staining his fingers like charcoal as he tilted his head to the side, listening.

They came from somewhere around the hideout, outside, only audible because he, himself, was outside.

Shadows traveled further up his arm, a tactful, slow acclimation to the darkness falling further with each second the sun acquiesced the sky.

The footsteps paused, and in their place a door handle jangled; stone-like, Tam turned just enough to peer over his shoulder, to watch as the door swung open and a particular pale-eyed blond stepped through, hand pushing through his hair, eyes scanning across the room, the empty couches facing each other, barren counters, untouched chairs with throw pillows still dented from over an hour ago.

His eyes missed Tam, skipping past the balcony sheathed in unnatural shadow as he swept the door shut behind him.

Immediately, his facade crumbled, and if Tam said he was surprised he’d be lying.

Keefe’s shoulders drooped, carefully curated carefree expression melting into bland nothing, fingers coming up to hold his temples, traveling back to poke gently at the base of his neck like it ached.

Shuffling, dragging footsteps took him to one of the couches, where he lowered himself as though the weight of the world rested solely on his shoulders.

Tam only watched, squinting to see better.

He wondered how long it would take Keefe to realize he was there, if he even would at all. The thought of how long he could probably get away with it amused him, but slipped from his grasp at the sound of a sniffle.

His muscles tensed once more, ready to make himself known and gone immediately if Keefe was about to start crying, but the sound repeated, and with it, everything from that evening clicked into place.

“How did you even get sick? You look ugly. Come here,” he said, turning fully as he did so, facing his back to the memory of a sunset and inclining his head as he learned against the railing, looking Keefe over from the better angle.

With that angle, he got a good view of the way he jumped, spine straightening and eyes widening, showing the whites all around.

His hands dropped from his head, falling in his lap as he shook himself off, a few precious seconds passing before he had himself sorted. “Were you just watching me? Dude, that’s so creepy.”

Tam ignored the question. “Drop the act, I can see right through it.”

Keefe’s shoulders tightened, and he opened his mouth to retort, but was interrupted.

“Don’t even bother to try and lie to me right now. You’ve been off all evening. Now, like I said, come here.” Tam jerked his head towards the spot beside him.

His posture shifted, softening ever so slightly as he glanced between him and the door, as if there was someone else to see. Perhaps waiting for Biana to leap out of the shadows and accost them.

“Why?”

“Fresh air.”

Keefe frowned, leaning back further into the cushions, a slight grate to his voice. “But I just got all that fresh air running around scouting, looking for nothing.”

Tam shrugged. “Fine. Don’t, then.”

Silence fell for only a few short moments before Keefe grumbled something Tam couldn’t pick up, not even with all his practice, pushing up off the couch and stalking over to the balcony beside him, leaning facing out.

At least, Tam thought that’s what he was going for; instead, his feet dragged across the floor and his path swayed, Keefe unable to keep himself moving straight until he slumped against the banister, breath shaky--though he tried to hide it.

“You’re a mess, where’d you even catch…whatever that is,” Tam eyed him up and down, from the wan pallor of his face contrasted with the unnatural flush on his cheeks to the uneven rise and fall of his chest to the unsteady stance of his feet, relying on that railing for support.

Keefe huffed out what might’ve been a laugh. “Wow, thanks. Real supportive. I feel so cared about.” A low sighed rolled between his lips, laughter fading. “I think I caught it from Fitz. He wasn’t feeling great, but I ignored that and insisted we hang out anyway, and now…wait, earlier, did you say ‘all evening?’ Like you’ve been watching me all evening?”

It took Tam a moment to follow Keefe’s disjointed thoughts, lips tightening as he recalled the exact words he’d spoken.

If his cheeks felt warm, it was all the layers, all the black, nothing else. He scowled. “It’s not my fault you’ve had that funk around you all day. It’s hard to ignore.”

It wasn’t, actually; he had more than enough experience curating what, exactly, he paid attention to and was aware of. Pushing Keefe and the haze around him from his mind would’ve been simple enough.

In fact, it took more energy to pay attention than to let his gaze skip past that concealed fog around him. And yet he’d paid attention anyway.

“I think you just like me,” Keefe said, grin pulling at his lips, lifting his head enough to turn and peer at him. The unhealthy flush spread across his cheeks had starting fading to a lighter pink in the cool air, his eyes still dimly alight with fever, he noticed.

His eyes scanned scarred, warm skin, mussed hair, a silhouette backlit by the soft glow of the room beyond, the silence stretching on, his statement unanswered.

Keefe shifted, pushing off the railing to stand straighter, the two of them almost equal in height, though Keefe stood slightly taller and shamelessly used it to his advantage. “We’re alone; you can admit it, you know.”

That was…much more forward than usual.

Tam rolled his eyes. “All I have to admit is how much more annoying you are than I let on.”

“You hesitated.”

“You’re aren’t thinking clearly.”

Keefe shook his head, looking down the few inches he had on Tam, leaning in closer, unconscious of the movement; Tam was very conscious of it. “Uh uh, I may be fuzzy”--he tapped at his temple, blinking as though fighting to keep his eyes open--”but I noticed. You were thinking about it, weren’t you? You’re always thinking about something.”

Tam’s lips pressed together, averting his eyes, scowling. His gaze flickered to the door, fragments of shadows skittered along the edge of the room in tandem. They were alone, but for how long? How long until the rest of their group finished each of their individual scouting missions, returning to catch them too close in the dark?

He’d spent his life with it as his defense, and yet now its charged silence threatened to turn on him.

“You’re doing it again,” Keefe interrupted, the words fumbled, exhaustion creeping its greedy fingertips around the edges, digging its claws into the vowels.

His voice drew Tam’s gaze back, piercing through the dark. Had Keefe gotten even closer?

How had he missed it?

Tam’s body went rigid, the cool air doing nothing to combat the turmoil stirring in his mind, leaving him to fend for himself. “What--what are you doing? Cut it out.”

Brow furrowing, the words took a moment to pierce through Keefe’s thick skull.

When they did, he took a step away.

He opened his mouth, but closed it again, instead letting out a breath, one hand unconsciously rising to rub at the base of his skull, poking and prodding at what he was now certain was a headache.

Tam latched onto it like a lifeline against the sudden silence, the retreat he’d asked for and dreaded. “Have you--hailed Elwin? He always fixes you up.”

Keefe let his prior comments drop untouched, as though they were never there, snorting, “Elwin’s got enough going on with the gnomes and all the councillor visits. I’m not going to bother him with just a”--he gestured at himself--”cold or something. Whatever it is.”

“He’d want you to,” Tam reminded him, trying to be less…whatever it was about him that had Keefe stepping away. Even though he’d told him to.

Keefe had slumped over the banister again, forehead practically pressed to the railing, goosebumps raised across his skin, shivering now instead of overheating. He didn’t answer.

A few shadows slipped forward, invisible against the descending dark, hedging around the edges of Keefe’s shape, hesitating.

“Keefe.”

“Are you going to tell anyone?” It was more exhale than speaking, the words happening to tumble out at the same time, by chance rather than intention.

Tam frowned, only for a moment before he schooled his expression. “What are you even talking about?”

“When everyone else gets back, are you going to tell them?” Without any force, he gestured to himself.

“That you’re sick? Tell them yourself. Probably won’t even have to, one look at you and it’s obvious.”

Keefe sighed in what might’ve been relief. “Thanks.”

Tam crossed his arms, looking away, eyes scanning over the empty room, shadows creeping through the door searching and searching for others, but there was no one to break the silence that fell once more. They truly were alone, just like Keefe had said.

Why? They weren’t supposed to be. Where was everyone else? Why hadn’t they come back yet?

“You,” Keefe started, though he stayed with his head pressed to his arm against the railing, “are one to talk about funks when you’ve got your own all over you.”

“What?”

Keefe waved a free hand, nonchalant. “You’re so worried I can feel it, and I’m not even touching you.”

Tam glanced down to Keefe’s hands, where they rested against the railing. Close enough that they could reach out and touch him, if they wanted to.

He looked away.

“Did I successfully distract you with my charming personality?” Keefe asked, shifting his head so he could look at Tam, the hint of a smile on his mouth. But…less so. Not as wide as he’d been smiling earlier.

“You talk too much,” he scowled, reaching up to tug at his bangs, the scratch of metal against his fingertips comforting.

Keefe made an indignant noise. “You’re the one who started this conversation, creeping on me from the shadows and telling me to ‘come here.’ This one’s on you. If you didn’t want to talk to me, why ask me to come closer to you? Hypocrite.”

Now it was Tam’s turn to be indignant. “You were feverish, I told you to get over here to cool off--and so you wouldn’t infect the room.”

“Nice to know you care.” Keefe mumbled, eyes rolling.

“Of course I do,” he hissed back, then clamped his mouth shut.

Keefe stilled beside him, but Tam refused to move his gaze from where it bored a hole into the far wall, that frown from before resurfacing as his fingers dug into the railing he leaned on, bones and muscle turning to stone.

Silence screamed for long enough Tam was nearly convinced neither of them would ever speak again, and then--

“You’re gonna pass out if you stay so rigid. Didn’t anyone ever teach you to loosen up once in a while?”

Internally, he flinched, but his body remained impassive. He shot Keefe a glare. “You have to make everything into a joke, don’t you?”

It was Keefe’s turn to flinch, scowling as he looked away--but it lacked any real conviction, lethargy dimming the edges as he sniffled, a slight shiver running through him.

Tam’s frown deepened.

He watched--though if you asked if he’d been watching, he’d deny it--as Keefe’s attention snagged on something he couldn’t see, eyes distant as he flexed his hand over and over.

Flashes of cold nights and running noses, flush cheeks and wondering hoping begging Linh to wake, to be well, to push through the haze and find him again passed through his mind. Searching for herbs but not knowing what to look for, never enough supplies, coughs and setting suns and days stretching into weeks into months into eternity as Keefe faded further and further into that haze, away from him.

He couldn’t stand it any longer. “What?”

Somehow Keefe found a way to slump down even further, resting his head on his arm, squished cheek distorting his words as they spilled out, filter breaking like a dam under his exhaustion. “I don’t get you. You say you’ve been watching me all evening and tell me to come stand next to you, and then get all defensive and upset with everything I say. You’re feeling something strong enough I’m picking up flashes through the air, but I’m not touching you and I can’t think straight so I don’t know what it is, but it doesn’t feel great. You say you care and then snap at me, what am I supposed to make of all that?”

Outburst over, Keefe stopped leaning on the rail entirely, instead lowering himself to the ground as he rubbed at his neck, still sniffling, staring off into the dark, sun long since gone.

Tam couldn’t help the lurch in his chest at the sight.

Keefe or the darkness, he couldn’t tell, but the jolt was there all the same.

“You must be worse than I thought if you’re getting all emotionally aware on me,” he peered down at him, trying to distract himself from the stone sitting in his chest.

“Seriously? You were just getting on my ass about making jokes out of everything.”

Shadows pulsed under his palms, swirling with an unidentified heat he didn’t want to think about. “Fine. You have a point there. I…sorry.”

“Whatever.”

Keefe made a dismissive gesture up at him, other hand still flexing, eyes closed now as he rested his face against the railing, legs crossed beneath him. It didn’t look comfortable.

After a few terse moments of debate with himself, both sides screaming adamantly, he huffed out a breath and lowered himself down hard, not giving himself a chance to second guess any longer.

“Do you want to read my emotions?”

Keefe sat up in surprise, looking over at the hand extended in offering.

“What? You’d let me?”

Teeth grinding, words slow, “You said you couldn’t tell through the air. Wouldn’t this help?”

Keefe searched his face as though making sure he was serious, and Tam fervently hoped there wasn’t anything to find as he reached to tug on his bangs. “Make a decision before I change my mind.”

That was all the encouragement Keefe needed, gaze sliding down his body--Tam swore he could feel its weight against his skin like static--to his hand, wrapping two fingers around his wrist as though taking his pulse.

Keefe’s eyelids fluttered as he inhaled, sudden and deep, grip tightening, a furrow between his brows as he pushed through his fatigue and into the maelstrom of emotion he’d been complaining about.

Trying not to squirm beneath the scrutiny, all he could do was watch, entirely unaware of what, specifically, Keefe was finding. What he’d learn.

Was this what it felt like when he read people’s shadow vapor, the sitting and the waiting?

Why had he agreed to this?

Why had he even suggested it?

A small, rebellious voice in the back of his head knew why, but he shoved it away before it could put voice to those thoughts.

“What--” Keefe made a face, scrunching up his nose, soft confusion in his tone, “what are you afraid of?”

Tam started. “I’m not--”

“You do realize you can’t lie to me, right?”

Keefe looked at him with an intensity that made him want to knock the look from his face, to turn around and walk into the night.

He settled for pulling his arm away, breaking the connection--or at least, he tried to.

As his wrist slipped from Keefe’s grip, he caught his hand, fingers brushing against his palm as he squeezed tight.

“Wait. I’m…sorry.” Keefe looked lost, fumbling for words, rubbing at his neck with his free hand. “I…didn’t mean to push you. It’s just a really strong feeling. It surprised me. Is it the thing with the gnomes? Because we’re going to figure it out and fix it.”

“I know that.”

“Then what…?” Keefe trailed off, looking lost, brows furrowing as he tried to think through the fog in his mind.

Tam’s grip tightened involuntarily, memories from his and Linh’s Exillium days flashing through his mind. “I don’t like sickness.”

Keefe nodded, still not quite following. “Well duh, no one does, it sucks--”

“It’s not the same for you,” he interrupted, looking away, leaning back against the railings, peering into the night sky as his stomach clenched. “When you’ve been sick, you’ve always been able to call on the best care your world has to offer, just a hail away. All the supplies you could ever need readily available. You’d be better by the morning as though it’d never even happened, just a slight discomfort, comfortable knowing you’d be just fine. You could take a day off, even. You never had to wonder if there was enough to treat you, if you could find what you needed, not sure when she’d get better and if she’d be okay to go to school, or if you’d have to leave her alone to go and get your beads, hoping you wouldn’t catch it because there wasn’t enough to treat the both of you and someone had to get the beads otherwise you’d be left behind.”

Tam cut off, biting his lip, for once not even caring what Keefe picked up on his palm, too distracted as he tried to get the images of Linh’s flushed cheeks, the shadows under her eyes, the tremor in her fingers as she propped herself against the wall, out of his head.

“Linh got sick,” Keefe whispered, more statement than question, but he decided to answer it anyways.

“Bad. It’d started out just a mild cold she must’ve caught from another wayward--fever, sniffles, headaches,” he glanced at Keefe’s flushed cheeks, blinking uncomfortably as he rubbed at his neck, both all too aware how it matched up with his symptoms, “but it didn’t go away. And we didn’t have anything to treat it with. And it got worse. A lot worse. I hated watching the sun set because she always shivered so badly without the sunlight’s warmth, no matter how hot I made my body. But the worst part was the only reason it got that bad was because we didn’t have any elixirs or treatment--but they exist. We just didn’t have access. And yet you do and throw it away,” he added at the end, bitterness coating his tongue.

Keefe swallowed, thumb pressed into the back of Tam’s hand. “I…guess I hadn’t thought about that.”

“No shit.”

For once, Keefe let the attitude slide, an incredibly unsettling phenomenon, because instead he was looking directly at Tam. He was suddenly reminded that with their hands still linked, he could still feel every single one of his emotions.

“What if--what if I promise to take something myself then? I still don't want to bother Elwin--the gnomes have him busy enough--but…you don’t need a physician to take elixirs. There’s probably something somewhere in whatever-the-hell this place is called--I wasn’t listening when Fork man said the name.”

“Me either,” Tam admitted. “It’s probably something stupid. Do you really plan to take something, or are you just saying that?” He couldn’t hide the skepticism in his voice, but Keefe would’ve felt it anyways.

Keefe made an offended noise. “I meant it! I’m trying to make you feel better about your sad life, because Foster keeps getting on my case about being nice to you and she’s so stubborn about it--and maybe I just like you, you ever thought about that?”

Unlike Tam, Keefe didn’t look the slightest bit concerned by the confession, grumpily playing with Tam’s fingers in his hand, poking at the veins beneath his skin. Though maybe he hadn’t thought through the consequences of saying it, or was too tired to.

“Do you?” Tam asked, quiet, braced against the answer.

Was he worried he’d say no?

Or that he’d say yes?

“I do,” he said, eyes on their linked hands, “more than I should.”

A heady rush passed through him, spine tingling as his stomach dropped--relief? Fear?

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Keefe’s already flushed face reddened further, as his brain started to catch up with where the conversation was headed, pressing his lips together as though he could stop it. But there was no way Tam was letting him walk away without answers and Keefe knew it; he’d opened the floodgates, now he had to ride out the wave. It was his own fault, really.

Sighing, he made a non-committal gesture as though that would explain everything. “We both know it would be better for both of us if…if no one had to put up with me. If I could just keep all my problems and feelings to myself instead of everyone else having to deal with the mess.”

Tam made a face, snapping, “You don’t have any right to say what would be better for me. Don’t make that choice for me.”

Starting back a little, Keefe tilted his head to the side, mouth falling open a touch, glassy eyes searching Tam’s.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you don’t get to decide what is and isn’t worth my time.”

Keefe’s breath caught, tongue between his teeth as he ventured, barely audible, “And me? Am I…?”

Tam didn’t answer for a moment, heartbeat screaming in his ears loud enough he could barely hear himself say, “You’re the empath, you tell me.”

A few moments passed, Keefe’s shaking fingers pressing against the lines of his palm with intention this time.

As the shaking spread, Keefe’s eyes widening as he glanced between him and his palm, Tam added, “Why do you think I invited you over here?”

“...Fresh air?”

Tam rolled his eyes, but tried to keep his voice gentle as he stared ahead. “Because…I wanted to keep an eye on you. Because I care and its--fuck it, its worth my time, alright? Don’t make me say it again.”

Against his better judgment, he glanced at Keefe, only to see a shit-eating grin starting to spread across his lips.

“Don’t push your luck,” Tam grumbled, shifting as he reached for his bangs with his free hand, fingers flexing in Keefe’s grip unconsciously.

Keefe nodded, smile mellowing, lingering until it turned into something uncertain. “Where…where does that leave us?”

Tam didn’t have an answer.

“Us?” he repeated instead.

Reddening, Keefe tried to backtrack, though he still didn’t let go of his hand.

But he was all out of words, quickfire mind finally exhausted, nothing left to shield himself as his mouth gaped and closed, nothing to save himself.

As if he’d ever need saving from Tam.

Scowling, he cursed idiot boys and stupid feelings, shaking his head, pressing his palm firmly against Keefe’s, deliberately thinking the words he didn’t know if he could voice again, bringing the feeling to the forefront of his very self.

I care.

Keefe hissed in a breath through his teeth. “I--oh.”

“Oh?”

“Us.”

It was all he said, but it was all he needed to say in that moment, because suddenly it was no longer a question.

It was an undeniable certainty.

“Alright,” Tam said, nearly lightheaded, “us.”

He didn’t think he minded his hand in Keefe’s anymore, whatever he’d find.

He’d already found exactly what Tam had wanted him to, what he’d been unwilling to admit he’d been hoping he would.

A shiver crawled through Keefe’s body, and for a moment Tam became the empath between the two of them. Unimaginable lethargy pulled at his bones, breath labored through narrowed airways, a fog in his mind trying to drag him into darkness.

They’d left his illness unspoken for a moment, distracted by their…whatever that conversation was, but no longer.

“You need to rest,” Tam instructed, gentle, but firm. He wouldn’t take no for an answer, but Keefe wouldn’t make it easy.

That, as expected, sparked something in Keefe, some last ditch effort to pull himself together. “No, there’s the resurgence, and we still have to reconvene with everyone--” “Please.”

The word surprised them both, stopping them short.

That…wasn’t what he’d meant to say.

But something in Keefe looked uncertain, lost, so he said it again. “Please, Keefe.”

“I…okay,” he deflated, words barely a whisper as he gave in, the bravado he’d put on slipping away, leaving him hunched over, sniffling, chills coating his bare arms on the now cold balcony, washed in the light spilling out from the room behind them.

Tam looked him over, nodding to himself--he believed him, that he’d listen for once in his life, though he didn’t know why. It wasn’t like Keefe. “I’ll find wherever their stash of elixirs is and bring them to you--why don’t you sit on the couch, get out of the cold?”

Another tremor ran through him as he finally let Tam’s hand slip from his as the two pushed to their feet in tandem, one much steadier than the other.

And even though their hands didn’t touch, not even the barest of brushes between their fingers, a silent electricity hummed between their bodies, tingling along his skin as they split. Keefe collapsed face first into the couch, groaning, and Tam moved to search the rest of the place in the quiet that followed, haunted by the hollow feeling of skin that hadn’t been touched, but nearly had been.

It didn’t take long for him to find a small, but well-equipped supply of medicinal elixirs, balms, and miscellaneous assortments for small injuries and ailments. He grabbed two he thought would help, shutting the doors behind him as quietly as possible, but they still echoed in the silent place--seriously, where was everyone else?

Had so little time passed that no one else had returned?

He could’ve sworn lifetimes had come and gone on that balcony.

So brief, and yet now the scope of his world had changed, new, undefined tethers drawing him to a certain troublesome boy with no sense of self-preservation or risk sprawled across the entirety of a couch.

Leaning over the back of it, peering down at him, Tam tapped the two vials he held against the back of Keefe’s head, smiling to himself as Keefe swatted half-heartedly at him.

“You already agreed, you don’t get to take it back.”

“I wasn’t going to!” he protested as he shifted to a propped up position, though it had less force than he would’ve expected. “I told you I meant it. I know everyone’s always telling me off for being stubborn, but I don’t always push back. I can make smart decisions.”

He’d believe it when he saw it.

Keefe grabbed the vials, uncorking the first.

Tam blinked as he downed the contents and studiously avoided his gaze. “You’re holding something back.”

Keefe scowled at his matter of fact tone as he downed the second, though his hands shook as he uncorked it. “Fine. Your story about Linh got to me, okay? I don’t want to worry anyone else.”

Of course. He’d never relent for his own sake, only to prevent himself from becoming a burden to others.

Idiot.

Keefe wrapped his arms around himself, shivering, waiting for the elixirs to kick in and for Tam to say something, but he was too busy scanning the room for a blanket, frowning when he came up short. Surely a secret, underground rebel organization trying to fix fundamental problems in their world had enough interior decor sense and time to have decorative blankets somewhere.

Apparently not.

“What are you looking for?”

“A blanket. You’re shivering, but I don’t see any,” he continued, ignoring Keefe’s mouth opening--likely to protest. He always had something to say. Infuriating.

Keefe didn’t like being ignored and rolled his eyes--though he winced with the action, probably aggravating whatever of his headache hadn’t eased yet--and grumbled, “This is ridiculous. I’m not even that cold. What are you even going to do about it without blankets? Share your body heat?”

It took a moment for Keefe to register what he’d just said, but when he did his eyes went wide, mouth snapping shut as he dared a glance at Tam.

He kept his face carefully impassive, but he reached up to tug at his bangs, habit traitorously giving his frazzled state of mind away.

Neither of them spoke for a moment longer--Keefe, because while sick, had the sense to realize he’d given away much more than he’d intended to tonight, and Tam because he had no idea what to do with everything Keefe had given him.

“Careful there, someone might think you actually wanted to be close to me,” Tam deadpanned at last, fingers still in the rough metal, though the joke fell oddly. Like with whatever their new us was, it didn’t fit anymore. Like it was just going through the motions without the venom behind it.

Keefe said nothing, but his gaze flickered, away from Tam’s face--only for a few moments, but long enough for Tam to see him rake it down his body before snapping back, and he could’ve sworn it lingered on his hands.

Tam stopped short, mind going blank. “...do you?”

“I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to,” was the answer he got, unable to tell if his flush was from sickness or embarrassment as he refused to meet Tam’s eye.

He gave his bangs one final tug before he dropped his hands, blurting out, “When we couldn’t keep warm in the neutral territories--before we’d learned to regulate our temperatures or when we were too tired--we’d share body heat.”

Keefe’s brow furrowed, looking up at him, uncertainty on his face. “...are you offering--”

“Well if you don’t want to--”

“I didn’t say that! You…you’re warm,” he tacked on at the end, trying to find a suitable explanation, but the hesitation gave him away.

Tam stayed silent for a moment, then, “Sit up.”

“I--huh?”

“I said sit up; you’re taking up the whole couch. Unless you want me to crush you with my body weight, I need space,” he continued, but Keefe was already scrambling to push himself up, freeing up a spot that Tam slid into, breath catching as their arms brushed together.

He’d been close to people before--closer, even, usually with Linh.

But something about Keefe’s arm against his jolted through him, every hair on his body standing on end.

“I’m not going to bite,” he said, amused, watching Keefe sit stunned beside him, rigid as a statue, a cornered animal ready to bolt. “Well, probably not.”

Keefe huffed, something sounding like asshole and fuck it spilling past his lips as he shifted closer, their legs pressing together too now, the static between them building, though neither mentioned it.

Quietly, glancing at him for permission as he did so, Keefe reached out and took Tam’s hand; he felt rather than saw the tremor that rocketed through him at the influx of emotions the touch provided, but Keefe just held on tighter.

Their breaths the only sound, they sat like that, pressed together, until Keefe’s shivers had started to abate.

“How are you so warm?” Keefe mumbled suddenly, starting to melt back into the cushions beside him--whether because he was comfortable or exhausted, Tam couldn’t tell. “You’d think a shadow guy would be freezing.”

“Shadow guy?”

“Shut up. You know what I meant.”

Keefe’s eyes had fallen closed, words slurring, chest moving slow, rhythmic.

Hardly daring to move, Tam watched as Keefe’s muscles gave in to sleep, his head tilting, falling in a slow arc towards him, until Keefe’s cheek was pressed against his shoulder, grip loosening in his hand.

Tam’s breath caught in his throat, but he stayed still--until Keefe started to slip, at just the wrong angle that gravity tried to pull him forward.

Before he could fall further, Tam caught him, grinding his teeth together as he weighed his options.

Gently, he shifted, hardly daring to breath lest he wake Keefe from his much needed nap, and just…adjusted his trajectory slightly.

Instead of falling forward and off the couch, or roughly shoving him back, Tam lowered his head into his lap, hands hovering over the rest of his body uncertainly before he finally let them settle on Keefe’s arm.

A few terse moments later, Keefe gave no sign of stirring, settling into the new position, breaths even--and Tam thought his color had improved too, the elixirs starting to kick in.

There was nothing else to do in the silence that followed but breathe an easy sigh, looking around at the well furnished room--unforgivably devoid of blankets, but otherwise lavish--the steady light, the stable structure, secure in the knowledge that no matter what happened next, he wasn’t--they weren’t--out there still.

That they could get what they needed, and enough of it.

They weren’t the only people looking out for them anymore.

Which brought a different problem to mind: where was everyone else?

Almost as soon as he put thought to the question, something prickled his senses, and the door across the room swung open, Biana bursting in with Linh close behind, breathless.

They stopped short at what they found as Tam tensed, Biana’s mouth falling open and Linh covering a knowing smile with her mouth.

“Don’t you dare say a word,” he hissed, glaring at them, heart pounding.

The glance the two shared and the grins that followed didn’t bode well for him.

But as Keefe shifted in his lap, sleeping peacefully, safely, recovering, skin soft against his own, he couldn’t quite remember why he cared.

#kotlc #kotlc fanfic #kotlc kam #quil's quill #quil's queries #nonsie #look guys I did it! i wrote a fic!#i am putting it out into the world you better be nice with it <3 #also I'm sooo good at titling things <33333 #okay I'll be quiet now enjoy the fic :)#nonsie I hope this satisfies your prompt I kinda created. a whole situation out of it #would've been so much easier if they were already established i don't know why I didn't do that #but hey. love a challenge!#maybe if this isn't enough cuddles I can write a follow up sometime in the future where they're more physically comfortable #i like how I said I'd stop talking and then I didn't #i'l actually stop now. very giddy atm I haven't posted fic in a while this is quite the rush

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ot3 · 3 years

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Sorry to bother - feel free to ignore. I’m trying to write an orv fic bc. I like them. And I’m having trouble understanding why with the regression depression it’s the happy memories that get yjh the most. Best I can figure it’s bc he can use the bad memories to propel him forward - like he’s doing this to avenge them. But the good memories force him to realize these people are gone and he’ll never see them again. Do you have any thoughts? Thanks!

i think that's definitely more or less accurate! i think the 'those people are gone and he'll never see them again' bit you've pointed out is the critical piece here. ill stick my further thoughts below the cut. this is really long because i've pulled a LOT of long chunks of text from the novel to shore up this point. i just got home from work so my thoughts are gonna be a little bit incoherent here. skip to the end if you're not interested in reading all the segments i pulled from the text. spoilers all the way up through chapter 508

first things first, let's just go back to the novel and look at all the bits where YJH's depression gets brought up

“Maybe Yoo Jonghyuk-nim has already repeated a few lives. You have fought against terrible enemies and struggled against the beings of this world to save people. Enduring alone, lonely memories… We respect your sublime spirit.”

This jerk, such skillful flattery. Yoo Jonghyuk would be moved to tears if he heard. Later when he was depressed, I would have to tell him these words.

“But Yoo Jonghyuk-nim should’ve realized it from your past regressions. Even if you have an outstanding miracle, you alone can’t fight against the disasters that will come.”

Plus, he was right.

- from ch 48

「 Everything is twisted because of this person. 」

「 It is different from what I know in the earlier regressions. The amount of information available is too limited. I can’t save the world like this. 」

What was this?

「 The reason I was hurt by the Salvation Church was because we spent too much time in the last round. It was a mistake to train for 100 years then. My mind was permanently damaged. 」

「 Maybe it was a mistake not to get the Absolute Throne. 」

「 I will start from the beginning again… 」

Dammit, the regressor’s depression had begun. Was it due to the mental attack? I cried out in fear of what he would decide. “I’m hurt you jerk!”

- from ch 140

「 Those people can’t save the world, even with 100 trucks. 」

「 Once again, the answer is regression… 」

“Now now, our Supreme King isn’t in a good mood right now so back off. Do you want to die?” I personally stepped forward to get rid of any causes of depression.

- later on in ch140 as well

This jerk, he was always so impatient. He had been given time to rest but he was still busy thinking. Regardless of his depressed state, Yoo Jonghyuk was Yoo Jonghyuk.

“Before that, let’s take a moment to breath. The view is great.” I said while sitting on the roof railing.

Yoo Jonghyuk asked me, “What are you up to?”

“I’m just looking at the world. Isn’t it beautiful?” The city of Seoul was destroyed by the monsters. I quickly added, “It was originally a beautiful place.”

“I don’t like landscapes.”

“Why?”

“They are things that will disappear someday.”

I thought I had a bit more understanding of the third regression Yoo Jonghyuk after fighting against Shin Yoosung. I wanted to believe he was a person who could love this world without giving up or feeling despair.

I told him, “However, we need to protect these things.”

“Kim Dokja, you don’t know.”

This might be my misunderstanding. Yoo Jonghyuk could give up at any time because he was still in the midst of his regressions.

In the end, Yoo Jonghyuk’s purpose was to prevent the ‘destruction of this world.’ Paradoxically, he could give up on this world at any time. His essence was regression and this fact would never change.

“No, I know,” I replied.

“What?”

“The fact that you can regress at any time means that death is meaningless.”

I looked down at Lee Seolhwa caring for the injured. Lee Seolhwa was feeding her boiled soup to an unknown person. Despite her efforts, there was a high probability that the character would die. Even if they lied now, they would die tomorrow. If they miraculously survived tomorrow, they would die the day after tomorrow.

It was the same in the fourth regression and the fifth regression. There would always be ‘death’ in the world of Yoo Jonghyuk, even after passing the 100th regression.

“If there is no sense of death then the value of life also disappears.”

- ch141

There was the vague belief that he could do better in the next round with more information. It was easy for him to give up on this regression if something went wrong.

This was the precursor symptom of ‘regression depression.’ Some of the contents of Ways of Survival passed through my head.

It was around the 48th regression. Yoo Jonghyuk had consulted with an incarnation of the constellation ‘Discoverer of the Subconscious’ on the ‘regression depression.’ At the time, he seemed to be speaking like I was now.

I continued speaking, “Yes. It might be as you say. If you repeat it 10 or 20 times then it will surely get better. You’ll be exposed to more scenarios and see more of the future. The real problem is when you someday save the world in this manner.”

“What does this mean?”

“At that time, do you really think you saved this world?”

“…”

“Do you think you will be able to keep the same mindset after repeating it 100 or 200 times?”

“I won’t regress that many times.”

I silently stared at Yoo Jonghyuk.

「 …Don’t tell me? 」 Yoo Jonghyuk’s eyes slowly widened.

I kept speaking, “Are you having nightmares these days?”

“…”

“You won’t be saved, even if you save the world. The moment you save the world, the worlds you have forsaken will come to you. Despite saving one world, all the other worlds you abandoned will drag you to hell.”

- from further down in ch141

「 Yoo Jonghyuk felt lonely as he saw these watches. They got their time back but he still wasn’t

living in this time. Yoo Jonghyuk suddenly thought. If so, where do I live in those countless hours? 」

It was the monologue of Yoo Jonghyuk, who once saved the Demon World. It was also one of my favourite scenes from Ways of Survival.

I suddenly seemed to understand a bit of his mind. To the regressor Yoo Jonghyuk, the time in these worlds didn’t belong to him. In a life that could go back over and over again, the present time was meaningless.

Once this was over, I would ask Aileen to make me a watch. If he had something like this, he might become more attached to this world. Maybe the regression depression would get better…

- ch 207

A person who regressed more than a thousand times. A spirit that had become insensitive from the hundreds of suicides and tragedies that an individual could suffer. The extremely widespread regression depression…

「 Yoo Jonghyuk of the 1863rd round is the despair of the world itself. 」

- ch 285

Abnormal condition? There was no way. Who was the 1863rd regression Yoo Jonghyuk? This was Yoo Jonghyuk who was the Ruler of the East Hell and killed the Devil of Principles. There was no one among the constellations who could place an abnormal condition on the present Yoo Jonghyuk.

Yoo Jonghyuk’s eyes were blank.

I felt uncomfortable like something was stuck in my throat. No, there was. There was only one person who could cause an abnormal status in Yoo Jonghyuk.

* The target is suffering from ‘regression depression’ due to an unknown cause.

It was Yoo Jonghyuk himself.

Regression depression. The spirit of the man who had been broken over 1863 lives made the regression depression almost a passive, low level skill. Once he fell into the depression, his consciousness was caught in the weight of his memories and he couldn’t wake up.

[Kill him! He isn’t invincible!]

The ruthless strikes caused Yoo Jonghyuk’s body to bleed little by little. It was strange. Originally, the regression depression shouldn’t occur in this situation. In the 1863rd round, Yoo Jonghyuk had learnt how to manage this disease.

- ch 286

then this REALLY LONG BIT from 287. it has stopped letting me indent for some reason so i guess ill bold this.

I knew how to wake up Yoo Jonghyuk from his regression depression. In other words, it meant I also knew how to sink him deeper into that melancholy.

I saw Yoo Jonghyuk’s fingertips moving and opened my mouth. “Do you remember? The 33rd round. You cleared the 40th scenario and Lee Jihye said this.”

Yoo Jonghyuk’s eyes dimmed and his moving fingertips stopped.

「 “It would be nice if Master didn’t have to go to the next round.” 」

“Think about it. You weren’t always unhappy. Right? In all the rounds, there were moments when you were happy.”

Yoo Jonghyuk’s expression was becoming stiffer.

“The 173rd round. You protected Earth for quite some time. You also saw Lee Jihye receiving her high school diploma and Lee Seolhwa smiling at someone’s child.”

「 “Jonghyuk-ssi, are you happy that you’re alive?” 」

Every time I spoke, Yoo Jonghyuk’s expression collapsed. It wasn’t despair that broke down Yoo Jonghyuk.

“The 383rd round. You finally cleared the 75th scenario. Fortunately, nobody died in that round. That was the first time. Then Lee Hyunsung told you.”

「 “Jonghyuk-ssi, I won’t forget today until I die.” 」

The feather-like memories sank into his head.

“Then the 498th round…”

Yoo Jonghyuk’s palms moved to cover his ears. The usual Yoo Jonghyuk wouldn’t have fallen from this much. Now it was different. I held his hands and kept talking. “That happened 10 times.”

A human sank deeper into the water just because of the weight of these feathers.

“Twenty times.”

My breath clogged up and my lungs tightened. I could feel what Yoo Jonghyuk was going through. Only I could feel it. The most primitive darkness at the bottom of one person was swallowing his ego greedily.

“100 times. It repeated over 1,000 times.”

All those words were destroyed. All the happy memories flowed back to a time they could never return to. Through the countless regressions, the meaning of happiness faded. All the values he preserved became pieces of torn paper.

“Yoo Jonghyuk.”

Yoo Jonghyuk’s self was sinking into the deep sea. It was to a place that he could never come up from without someone’s help.

“Have you protected all the things you wanted to keep?”

I looked at Yoo Jonghyuk’s miserable face and thought: Don’t worry Yoo Jonghyuk. I’ll do the rest. You stop and rest.

[Your understanding of the character ‘Yoo Jonghyuk’ is increasing explosively.]

Yoo Jonghyuk’s empty eyes were showing memories of losing his master. I didn’t use Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint but it wasn’t hard to read.

「 I want to die. 」

「 I want to finish all of this. 」

「 If only I can never wake up. 」

A few drops of rain fell from the sky. It was black rain made from the blood of the demon kings and constellations. Liquid also flowed onto Yoo Jonghyuk’s face. Yoo Jonghyuk’s gaze lowered and finally fell on me.

I was looking at the moment a human’s spirit collapsed. There was a broken voice. Like a creaking machine, Yoo Jonghyuk stammered, “Wh,at… should, I, d…o?”

i think this one is obviously very important.

then, the 'have you protected all you wanted to protect' stuff obviously reaches its culmination in the finale

⸢The regression depression.⸥

That was the only weakness of Yu Jung-Hyeok, who had repeatedly regressed for a very long time.

[In the 173rd turn. You managed to protect Earth for a pretty long time. You got to see Yi Ji-Hye receive her high school diploma, and you even got to see Yi Seol-Hwa smile with another’s child in her arms.]

The light in Yu Jung-Hyeok’s eyes was wavering.

⸢It wasn’t despair that could defeat Yu Jung-Hyeok.⸥

⸢Small feather-like memories settled down inside his head one by one.⸥

The ‘Dokkaebi King’ was using the exact same method I relied on back then.

⸢The breathing got harder, and the lungs were getting tighter.⸥

⸢A man drowning in water would sink even deeper under the surface from the weight of a mere feather.⸥

I couldn’t afford to idly watch on anymore. I shouted at Yu Jung-Hyeok, telling him to wake up, and not to fall for such an illusion.

However, my voice couldn’t reach them as if a non-conductive barrier was set up between us. And the ‘Dokkaebi King’ was smiling away, perhaps to mock this entire story.

[Yu Jung-Hyeok, have you protected all that you wanted to protect?]

Slowly, Yu Jung-Hyeok’s knees sank down.

I roused the Status of Fables. I needed to undo that ⸢Stage Transformation⸥ right now, But, how should I…

Grab.

There was a hand still tightly clutching mine. It was Han Su-Yeong.

“That’s not a battle you can interfere in.”

“But, if he’s left alone….!”

“….Even a star that can’t be seen still emits light. You said that, right?”

….A star that can’t be seen?

Her words made me look back at Yu Jung-Hyeok once more.

His gaze being lowered had come to a stop. Blinding sparks were completely enveloping him.

Tsu-chuchuchuchu….

Something was waking up his fading consciousness.

[Great Fable, ‘Ones that Remember the Apocalypse’, has begun its storytelling!]

That was a Fable I wasn’t aware of.

As the sparks lessened gradually, several silhouettes revealed themselves. Now that I took a closer look, Yu Jung-Hyeok wasn’t alone. No, four others were standing beside him.

A tall man, a young man with blonde hair, a girl with a ponytail, and finally…

[[He couldn’t protect anyone. That’s why he now stands in this place.]]

….An Archangel with blindingly-pure wings.

Astonishment quickly dyed the Dokkaebi King’s expression.

The Fable from the destroyed 999th turn was now burning brightly like the conflagration of end times on the edges of the Archangel’s blade.

[[Because he believes there are still things left to protect.]]

- from ch 508

Now here's a couple of tidbits about depression when it comes up for Other entities:

The fastest thing to get shaved away after becoming a Constellation was their own ‘Fable’. The more a Constellation depleted its story, the weaker its power would get. They would grow bored, disinterested, fall into depression, or lose themselves in tedium.

Constellations would desperately seek out other Fables in order to escape from such a quagmire. In other words, they would search for a new tragedy to escape from this horrible eternal cycle, even if it was only for a brief moment.

- ch 498

⸢[Constellation, ‘Abyssal Black Flame Dragon’s’ ■■ is ‘Something that can’t be found’.]⸥

I had read what his ■■ was from the original novel. His description showed up when he became Yu Jung-Hyeok’s ally for a little while during the 1863rd turn.

⸢The evil dragon suffering from the worst possible depression in this <Star Stream>.⸥

The reason why the ‘Abyssal Black Flame Dragon’ believed his age to be 15 was simply that he’d not be able to continue on if he didn’t.

A life stretching for thousands, no, tens of thousands of years, made an originally solitary dragon into such a creature.

In order to stop itself from decaying, he chose not to age. He chose not to lose his curiosity of the world. He chose to torment Incarnations or play bizarre pranks. And for his final prank, he even chose to betray the ‘Absolute Evil’, too. He stood on Yu Jung-Hyeok’s side and while mocking the <Star Stream>, breathed his last.

- ch 503

okay so

i think there are a couple of different ways to look at the regression depression in line with each of orv's 'themes'. of course despair at losing his comrades is the main primary emotion here, but there's subtler stuff going on here too.

for starters, the foundational components of any creature within the star stream is its stories. the more your stories are known and shared the more powerful they are, etc, etc. time and time again their shared stories are the thing to save them and ground them. but as we see with the hellscape of eternity, yjh begins to become isolated from the interpersonal aspect of the story as he loses the people he originally formed these stories with. the stories are how people communicate. as YJH progresses through his regressions he is unable to relate to the 'story' in the way you are supposed to, and this essentially causes a complete ego death. life no longer has any meaning for him, because he is fundamentally incapable of connecting with people. the [impossible communication] of a life and a burden that can't be shared.

then there's the [samsara] aspect - being worn down by the endless repetition of fate. everything is the same, over and over again, and yet we still delve into it hoping to get something new out of it. maybe the story will be different this time. ABFD was able to stave off depression by keeping himself in a state of permanent novelty - there was still something left to discover - but as YJH progresses through the regressions and falls deeper and deeper into repeating the same pattern, the tedium becomes too much. he has nothing new to experience. he has repeated everything this reality has to offer - or so he thinks - and it shows no sign of ever changing. if it's the same every time, why stick around? why not go again? it doesn't matter. none of it matters. you are just part of the wheel.

and if we think of it in terms of [good and evil] we see yjh slowly become something that almost any human being would call a monster. as kdj says in that conversation with anna croft near the end, "can you really call someone a human if you have to look so hard to find their humanity?" as far as it goes. yjh commits some atrocities! Because of said aforementioned removal from reality and ego death, he is able to fully justify any action it takes no matter how horrendous. and yet his noble goal never changes. undeniably, what he is by the end is some sort of monster. but still, of course, just a man. and he knows this. he feels himself slipping a little bit more, every regression. he knows its coming. and he doesn't want it. he wants to maintain his humanity.

but really i think we can almost best think of yjh's regression depression as almost his equivalent to the [fourth wall]. whereas the 4th wall is a unique passive skill that protects kim dokja by preventing him from fully conceptualizing what's happening to him as 'reality', the regression depression harms yjh by preventing him from conceptualizing what's happening to him as 'reality'. in a sense, his friends and loved ones have almost become 'characters' to him as well, as he already knows the way this story happens. he is an outsider, observing these beings interact with each other but not quite the same as them. he is an anachronism. this isn't his present. this is a present, one he can take or leave at any time. the thing yjh does in his later regressions - using people as tools - is something kdj does in the beginning of his journey. because, well, it doesnt matter if this isn't the 'real world'! they mirror each other.

that ended up being so much longer than i thought it would im sorry. i hope this was even like 10% helpful.

#orv #orv spoilers #yjh

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teamhook · 3 years

Text

Finding Hope :: A CS August Rush AU birthday fic

Hellol! Okay, before I go on. I swear this will be the last WIP I start. I had to. This story is for my favorite dork @hookedonapirate cause I love her to death. She had asked me to write it before but at the time I was writing the Forever My Girl CS AU.

Happy Birthday!! Hope you like your present.

Thanks to my beta @ultraluckycatnd she is the best!!

FFN

AO3

A love for music unites an unlikely pair. The rhapsody they unknowingly created will give life to the hope they still have in their hearts.

Killian Jones and his older brother Liam had arrived from London with nothing more than the clothes on their back to pursue a music career. The lives of the Jones brothers had been difficult since the beginning. Their mother died at a young age and their father had decided he was not made to be a family man.

The Jones brothers had formed The Outlaws with some fellow expatriates they met along the way. The venues they played weren't the best, but they managed to make a name for themselves enough to have steady gigs.

Emma Nolan had grown up with loving parents but after an unfortunate accident, she was left alone. Afterwards, her grandfather took her in. George Spencer was an ill-tempered man. He wasn't a doting person, which caused Emma to become closed off. She focused on solace in the cello. Thankfully, the man valued pomp and grandeur so, at the thought of his granddaughter attending Juilliard, he eagerly made it possible.

On a rare night out with her best friend Elsa, they decide to go to listen to a little-known rock band called The Outlaws they saw fliers for. It was love at first sight. The lead singer mesmerized the young cellist with his voice. The girls waited for the band to finish their set to introduce themselves to them. Elsa and Emma fit in with the band perfectly. The Jones brothers had quickly gravitated towards the blonde beauties.

Emma and Killian had slowly drifted away from the group. It ended up being the most magical night for the young lovers above New York's Washington Square.

Months later, Emma finds out she is pregnant. Somehow, she already loves her kid so much. Her grandfather makes his displeasure known, however, every moment of her pregnancy.

The day her life changed was gloomy and rainy. After an argument with George, Emma had gone to the store to buy some last-minute things for her baby. The drunk driver came out of nowhere. When she gives birth prematurely, her grandfather takes advantage while she is unconscious and gives the baby girl up for adoption. The moment Emma wakes up, she is told the news that her baby is dead. The news shatters her musical dreams and any hope of happiness.

You're not special. You're just like the rest of us... alone, nothing but an orphan.

The music... Can you hear it? Listen... I can hear it everywhere.

It's in the wind ...

in the light...

It's all around us.

All you have to do is open your heart and listen.

Sometimes the world tries to knock the hope out of you.

They tried to stop me from hearing the music...

I believe in music the way others believe in fairy tales. When I'm alone it builds inside me eager to erupt into a melody. I like to believe that what I hear came from my parents. That the music I hear is the same one they heard the night they met...

Maybe that's how they found each other and that's how they'll know I am theirs and find me...

Hope Swan had grown up in foster care. As a baby, she had been adopted but returned once the couple was blessed with their own flesh and blood. After that, she bounced from foster home to foster home.

In her shared room at the group home, she's currently at, Hope records herself humming a song that keeps playing in her mind, but is rudely interrupted by her roommate who mocks her. "You are not special. You're just like us, an unwanted orphan."

The girl walks away, slamming the door.

Hope's eyes water at the mean girl's words. She knows it in her heart that she is wanted and someday she will find her parents. She continues recording her humming of the song in her heart.

Hope is now eleven years old. She stands in the back of the group as one of the younger girls is adopted by a couple. Maybe she should be bitter and want to be adopted but if she was, she would never find her parents. They're out there and she will find them.

Hope runs away once more from her group home. Living on the streets she makes friends easily, but is still guarded. She knows that someday her parents will come looking for her. All she wants is to go home.

As she wanders the streets, runaway Hope Swan is getting closer to find her home. She knows she will find her family. All she has to do is listen to the music in her heart and follow it.

A kind man, Merlin, is assigned Hope Swan's case. She wasn't a trouble maker, but she was reportedly closed off with the couples. He is notified that she has run away. She has a history of running away. The picture of the young girl saddens him. He wishes he can find her and place her in a good home. She is a pretty girl, with blonde hair, vibrant sea-blue eyes, dimples, and a slightly dimpled chin. He posts her picture on the board.

Emma Nolan had moved away after losing her daughter. Her little girl, her grandfather told her the baby was a tiny girl. The heartbreak led her to become a music teacher to kids. She was always surrounded by children and music. That was the way she chose to honor her child. An unexpected call from her grandfather's doctor makes her break a promise she had made to herself years ago. He is the only family she has left.

Once she arrives at his house, she is summoned to his death bed.

His eyes tear up. "I thought you wouldn't come."

"I don't hate you Grandpa, but my heart hasn't healed. Time will never heal this wound," she sniffled.

He closes his watery eyes. "I think I can help with that."

Emma gets closer to his bed, confused. "How can you say that? My child is gone! You didn't want her, so you threw her away while I slept. You took that away from me. I couldn't hold her!"

"Emma, enough!" he screams, then immediately starts coughing from the effort.

"I'm sorry, I made a mistake. I know now that family is precious, that image doesn't matter. Emma, I have a confession. I hope it's not too late and that you will find it in your heart to forgive me."

Emma stares at him.

"She's alive. Your little girl is alive."

"What? How can you be so cruel and say that to me!" Emma says with disbelief and tears pooled in her eyes.

"Because it's the truth. She is alive. I gave her up for adoption, and I was the one who signed the papers. I was your next of kin since you weren't married."

Emma gapes at the old man as she let her limp body drop to the chair next to his bed. "You gave my daughter away as if she was property because I embarrassed you?"

George Spencer can't keep his eyes on his granddaughter. The once-proud man weakened by age and disease casts his eyes down in shame. "In my safe, you will find the documents."

"What good will that do me?" Emma asks.

"Emma, my attorney can help you find her," he says quietly.

"But-"

"Emma, if your parents were here, they would tell you that you should never lose hope," he says.

Emma stands up. "You're right, I'm going to find my daughter."

George sighs as he falls into a deep sleep, his machines flatlining. The nurse that had given them privacy to talk rushes in as soon as the machine goes off.

Emma finds the papers and with trembling hands, calls Mr. Gold, the attorney.

The man is a ruthless slimy bastard. He tries to convince Emma that her kid is better off where she is. Of course, he would say that seeing he had helped her grandfather do this to her; he was just covering his ass. She doesn't care about that. All she wants is to get her kid. She has a daughter and she is out there. She hopes to God that she is being taken care of.

Killian Jones had moved to California not long after The Outlaws broke up. He had given up his dream of singing, but somehow had managed to gain a thriving career as an agent.

He had also distanced himself from the memory of Emma. After the band broke up, his brother and former bandmates had moved to Boston. Killian thought the further away he could get would be better, though. He tried forgetting her, but he knew he could never forget her. It was only one night, but he would belong to her for the rest of time.

Liam had called him a few days prior to ask if he wanted to join them in a reunion of sorts. They were going to play at the little place where he had met Emma. The joint was going out of business so in an effort to raise money to save it, The Outlaws had agreed to come out of retirement for one night only.

Killian had yet to agree, but 'what if' rattled in his brain. Something inside him tugged at his heart. A man unwilling to fight for what he wants gets what he deserves, Liam had told him over and over. He decides he will do it. He will fly to New York and look for Emma. He prays to every deity he can that she is not married. It's a selfish thought, but he couldn't bear it if she isn't meant for him.

Killian picks up the phone and dials his brother's number. "Liam, I'll be there."

"Brother, you'll do it? What happened to never setting foot in New York?" Liam asks.

"Liam, are you going to question my decision? I thought you would be happy," Killian says through gritted teeth.

"I am, I am. I'm just surprised. Killian, this doesn't have anything to do with her, does it?"

"Brother," Killian sighs, "Even if it was, I don't have a way to contact her." Sure he was lying, but his brother didn't have to know all his reasons.

"We are driving out there," Liam says.

"I'll fly. I will text you the details once I've made arrangements," Killian says.

"Alright, see you then," Liam adds. "Brother, it's going to be good seeing you after so long. I miss you."

Killian sighs. "I miss you too."

The line disconnects. Alright Emma Nolan, what have you been up to? he thinks as he enters her name in the browser's search engine. He had thought of looking for her before, but he had never found any sign of her online. He knows her family has money but somehow she has managed to stay hidden. The only information that would come up was of her grandfather's business deals. His heart tells him that this time, though, things would be different.

Sure enough, he finds one headline: "George Spencer dies at home after a long battle with heart disease."

Killian reads the headline carefully and his heart sparks with hope to see Emma again. The newspaper lists her as the sole survivor of her grandfather's Estate. That means she would have to be at his home. He winces at the thought. He knows that his method to approach her while grieving will be considered to be in bad form, but if it is the only chance he has, he has to make the best of the situation. He takes a deep breath and alters his flight plans so he can arrive a couple of days earlier.

Mr. Gold had changed his tune when Emma didn't fall for his manipulations and offered his services. Emma reluctantly accepted his help. He told her to give him a couple of hours and at that time, he would have information to make her search easier. He quickly found out that her daughter had ended up in foster care. He gave her the name of the caseworker assigned to Hope Swan. That was her baby's name. Emma tries to ignore the fact that her daughter is in the care of the state. She wonders what she looks like? Does she take after her or him? Killian Jones, he had never left her thoughts, but before it was painful to think of him because inevitably her thoughts would end on her daughter. Emma smiles, realizing how fitting the name Hope was for their daughter. Emma thanks Mr. Gold and goes to see Merlin Wilde.

Emma arrives at the CPS office. Her nerves are getting the best of her. She approaches the information desk. "Excuse me, I'm looking for Mr. Wilde?"

The woman looks bored. "Do you have an appointment?"

Emma shakes her head. "No, I'm sorry. I must speak to him, though."

The woman rolls her eyes. "Fill out the sign-in sheet. I will see if he can fit you in today." She gets up and heads to a door behind her desk.

Emma is about to sit down when something catches her eye. Pictures of missing kids. Runaways. She gravitates to the board. Her heart is beating so fast as her eyes land on a name, Hope Swan. Emma smiles as she stares at blue eyes that reminded her of the pair that stole her heart all those years back. The sound of someone clearing their throat startles her.

"I'm sorry for startling you, Miss Nolan. I'm Merlin Wilde." He smiles at her as he looks over her sign-in sheet and signals for her to follow him.

"Oh, no it's okay. Yes, I wanted to speak to you in private. My situation is not a common story," Emma says as she follows him to his office.

They enter his office and he kindly motions for her to take a seat.

Emma looks around the office. She tries to get a feel for the man. He seems kind, but looks can be deceiving.

"Miss Nolan, how may I help you? Is there a child in a situation you are concerned about?"

Emma nods. "Mr. Wilde, yes, in fact, that is the reason why I'm here."

"Alright," he starts taking notes. "May I have the child's name?"

"Hope Swan," Emma says. "I'm her mother."

Merlin looks up from his computer. "I'm sorry," he says as he types rapidly on his computer keyboard, before looking up quizzically. "Her case says she is in the care of Mrs. Emerald."

"I'm afraid you misunderstood me. I'm Hope's biological mother." She takes a deep breath. "I was young and unmarried when I got pregnant with her, and my grandfather didn't think having a child was appropriate." Her eyes begin to sting because of the tears. "He took it upon himself to decide that giving my daughter away while I was unconscious because of an accident was the appropriate decision to make. Until recently, I thought Hope was dead. I'm here because I need your help getting my daughter back. I understand she is in foster care, so it shouldn't be a big deal, right?"

Merlin keeps his eyes on her and laughs. "She is a good kid, the people that had fostered her before never had a complaint about her. She loves music and she always hummed a melody to herself. She was just not open to letting them in. It's like she knew she didn't belong there. I'm afraid that has caused her to run away on several occasions. I was just informed she ran away from the last home."

Emma's eyes tear up. "I loved my daughter from the moment I knew she was there. I used to play a song on the cello for her that her father sang the night we met. Until the day I thought I had lost her, I played the same song. I need to find her."

"And we will, Miss Nolan. I have put up fliers all over the city."

Emma nods. "I will look for her myself. I plan on hiring a private investigator. Could I have a picture of her?"

"Of course, Miss Nolan. I will do all in my power to help get your daughter back. I'm going to go looking for her at Washington Square Park. That is a hot spot for runaways. If you would like to join me? We might get lucky," he says as he hands her the picture of Hope from her file.

Emma smiles. "Sure, I will. Thank you for asking."

Hope is sitting on a bench at Washington Square Park and then she hears some music playing. Instantly, she is drawn to it. A boy around her age is playing the guitar. She smiles wide and sits down to enjoy the show. People surround the boy as he plays and they drop change on a baseball cap on the floor. Once he finishes playing, the boy picks up his cap and puts the money in his pocket. He grabs his guitar and thanks the crowd before leaving.

Curious, Hope follows him to an abandoned theatre.

Killian arrives on the first flight of the day. He rents a car and makes his way to the Nolan Estate. He is a nervous wreck. What will Emma think of him showing up unannounced? He hopes she will be happy to see him.

The boy Hope was following introduces himself as Henry. She likes him. He is nice and he promptly explains that all the runaway children live there. They had been taken in by Walsh Oz, the "Wizard". The man provides a roof over their head and food.

"Don't worry, Hope. He will teach you how to perform in street corners to pay for your part. If you're lucky and any good, he will let you use one of the park's spots," Henry says. "When he gets home with food, I will introduce you."

Hope thinks to herself it couldn't be that bad. This way, she won't be picked on for playing music.

Henry smiles fondly at Hope. "So why did you run away?"

Hope smiles back. "I'm going to find my parents. How about you?"

"My adoptive mom didn't love me." He shrugs. "Hope, I know you will find them."

Hope beams. "Thank you, but how can you believe so?"

Henry smiles. "I have a feeling that you will find them and then you will have your happy ending."

The Wizard hadn't always lived in condemned buildings. He once had been a success in his art but lost it due to some scandal years ago, but he could still spot talent. The young girl Henry had brought to him had loads of talent. She had played a song that most of the other kids couldn't play. The girl was magical. She appeared to be a musical genius with savant-like abilities and perfect pitch. He knows he could make a good living off of that girl. He smiles wickedly as the girl plays with his prized guitar, Roxanne. "Well, looks like we found our top earner thanks to Henry," The Wizard says to the group. He pulls Hope to the side. "Alright, you are going to be in my old spot at the park and you will be using Roxanne." He scrutinizes her. "Now what should we call you?"

"My name is Hope," she says.

He walks back and forth contemplating and shaking his head. "I know, I shall call you Odette."

Emma and Merlin arrive at the park. They split up in the hope to cover more ground.

Merlin posts missing posters of Hope on every corner he can; he even hands some to the people walking by.

Emma is walking around the corner when something catches her eye. They have some posters for an upcoming event displaying some talent from Julliard. She smiles wistfully, she misses her music. She takes out her phone to call an old friend. Elsa had ended up at their old school as a teacher.

Somehow her connection is stronger now. She has a sudden need to play. She feels it will help her connect with her daughter.

Tag list:

@rumdrum91 @itsfabianadocarmo @xsajx @hookedonapirate @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @seriouslyhooked @profdanglaisstuff @let-it-raines @revanmeetra87 @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @kymbersmith-90 @branlovestowrite @thejollyroger-writer @shireness-says @ilovemesomekillianjones @thisonesatellite @thesschesthair @winterbythesea @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @superchocovian @lfh1226-linda @artistic-writer @thislassishooked @shardminds @winterbaby89 @xhookswenchx @ultraluckycatnd @gingerchangeling @laschatzi @wellhellotragic @xemmaloveskillianx @courtorderedcake @pirateherokillian @optomisticgirl @darkcolinodonorgasm @sherlockianwhovian @andiirivera @djlbg @nikkiemms @jennjenn615 @scientificapricot @officerrogers @imlaxdris71 @therealstartraveller776 @kday426 @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 @donteattheappleshook @reggieshamster @lassluna @carpedzem @captainodonoghue @killian-will-do @jarienn972 @tehgreeneyes @demisexualemmaswan @queen-serena88 @swanslieutenant @tiganasummertree @whimsicallyenchantedrose @bethacaciakay @ohmakemeahercules @jrob64 @klynn-stormz @mariakov81 @sals86 @elizabeethan @brooke-to-broch @hookedonhiddles @onceratheart18 @the-darkdragonfly @veryverynotgoodwrites @jonesfandomfanatic @wefoundloveunderthelight

#Captain Swan #cs birthday fic #hookedonapirate #cs ff #CSMM #Captain Swan Movie Marathon #CSMM20

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akvtsuki-ari · 4 years

Text

Sweetheart (Ch.1)

Warnings: Mentions of BDSM and bunch of other kinks but nothing sexual in this chapter lol. Sub!Spencer and Femdom!Reader

Length: 5.3k

Authors Note: this is hands down the most self-indulgent shit ive ever wrote but do i care? the answer is no dsjk but this that series i had planned where the reader introduces spencer to proper BDSM and all that. hoping to make this fic kinda informative also lol. also im uploading this fic on ao3 as well. also no tags for this fic bc its really specific and ill probably be writing for it for a while! sorry about that

Plot Summary: Spencer Reid just wanted to be.., well, you know. He doesn’t expect to find much when he signs up for a BDSM dating website but somehow he manages you and he couldn’t be more delighted

Spencer Reid was certainly a lot of things. He was a lover of the arts, someone who had a particular affinity for 15th-century literature, a magician at best, a theater nerd at worst, and a teacher when life called for it. He loves the world even when it's really dark and he loves sleeping in even more. He loves his friends and they love him too - even when they pretend that his random facts annoy them. Spencer Reid was a friend, an FBI agent, a genius with an IQ of 187, and a son to a mother he loves wholly. He was a lot of things and for the most part - he knew a lot about what he really loved to do. He supposed that it's been like that his whole life.

It's not everyday that he discovers something new about himself. About everything else? Always. He loves to learn, but about himself? There's never all that much on the frontier.

It's hard to say, because of that, when Spencer discovered he was a sub. It's difficult to pinpoint a specific time and place, or even how the pieces got put together. He just remembers how it felt when it hit him, like a freight train going 100 miles an hour into a concrete wall. Or a plane crashing onto an island. Or like a fly hitting the glass panes of a delivery truck. He remembers the feeling when he was deftly reminded of this fact. Spencer Reid was a sub - through and through and he wasn't really sure what to make of it.

Surprisingly to most of his direct peers, Spencer wasn't a virgin. He'd had sex with 2 people who he'd been kinda friends with at some point, but it always got a little weird after that. The second time though, the girl ended up choking him a little bit when she got off and Spencer thought he had died. Not in a bad way, more in a "I'm so turned on by this I feel like I've genuinely gone to heaven," sort of way. He didn't think it was possible for a sexual encounter to make him feel like that but it did. It didn't stop after that either, which was the most agitating part.

Spencer doesn't consider himself a sexual person. Sex is about intimacy and companionship, and hopefully love when he finds that someday. Sex isn't necessarily about pleasure but that wasn't an easy lesson to learn.

Spencer just wanted to understand - so like any great genius he participated in thought experiments. It's normally a female superhero/supervillain that crosses his mind (he has an affinity for Poison Ivy), and he just kinda imagines what it would be like if they did what she did. The choking turned him on, but it wasn't enough. Through that, he figures out that he had more than a choking kink and that he was more than a little interested in a partner having complete access to him. He thought about it for weeks and the getting off was working for him but he couldn't get the fantasy out of his head. He wanted more - he wanted someone to fulfill his wishes.

It was too much for him to ignore. Those months of being able to hold off through masturbating are over and he's just sorta itching. Aching to act on those impulses with another person who can give him what he needs, and he doesn't want it to be transactional. Maybe it's too ideal to want a partner out of such an endeavor but was it so wrong? To want real affection and romance from someone who could also overpower him wasn't a crime and he'd be damned if he pretended to want any less. Spencer was just searching, even if it was rather desperately.

So, when Spencer finds himself on a BDSM dating site and he feels like his life is in shambles, he can only blame himself. It's not something he'd normally do but he's getting a little more than relentless about it but he also just wants to see what's out there. He's so out of it was it happens, it felt like he was being possessed as he made a fake email and wrote out his account information. Definitely blaming it on possession, he thinks.

It's too late to go back, as he scrolls through tons of profiles of rather intense looking people. He's not surprised, this is where people go to express themselves. They're entitled to that, it just sucks since he's just not ready for such levels of intensity. He wonders if he's in too deep yet, but he figures he'd hit that mark a long time ago and keeps scrolling through profiles. There wasn't much to go off of, many people not choosing to use photos for the sake of anonymity, which was good for Spencer. He clicks onto his own profile, reading his own bio carefully.

USERNAME: DOC187

SUB/ SWITCH / DOM

M / F / O

FETISHES: N/A

BIO: Interest in a dominant female companion. Completely inexperienced.

Spencer feels ridiculous, but he doubts anyone would even message him. He doesn't have much on his profile and he keeps things short for that purpose. He wanted to stay as low to the ground as possible - more curious to explore what was going in the world than to find anything legitimate. He scrolls through hundreds of profiles, mostly of people who were BDSM vets looking for new connections or fun. Some people catch his eye but they don't match his interests so he doesn't bother.

Except, one profile. The bio was beyond interesting to Spencer.

USERNAME: MISS—LILAC

SUB / SWITCH / DOM

M / F / O

FETISHES: Sadomasochist, Degradation, Humiliation, Pegging, Overstimulation, Edging, Crossdressing, Exhibitionism, Mutual Masturbation, Dacryphilia, Shibari/Gags/Bondage, Wax Play, Impact Play, Breath Play, General Sensation Play, Discipline, Collaring, Begging. Willing to try most things.

BIO: Interested in submissive males of any experience level. Helps if you're interesting and like to read and watch indie films. Looking for genuine connection and plenty of good banter. Curly hair is nice too. lol.

Before Spencer can think about it for too long his mouse clicks over that stupid little message button next to your profile. Spencer shakes his head at his own existence as he types you a message. Says you're online right now, but Spencer's sure he won't get a response for a while.

DOC187: Seems I fit who you're interested in. I even have the curly hair.

Spencer chews on his nails anxiously before he sighs at himself. He has no clue what's gotten into him belle before he can think he sees your 3-dotted bubble pop up. He feels his body wracked with nerves.

MISS—LILAC: I'm guessing you like to read and watch indie films too?

Spencer smiles. You seem interesting and the fact that the two of you were just talking normal was making Spencer happy.

DOC187: Indeed. I'm a sucker for 15-century literature and anything in Russian and foreign language. You?

MISS—LILAC: 15th century huh? I'll assume Chaucer. And Russian? You're interesting, doc. I'm more modern and English, hope you're not deterred.

Spencer smiles, surprised that you recognize an author as niche as Chaucer. He shakes his head at your commentary. He almost forgets that both of you are on a BDSM dating site and the irony doesn't escape him.

DOC187: Deterred? Never. I think you're rather interesting too, Miss Lilac.

MISS—LILAC: Ever the gentleman doc. I'm hoping you won't run away if I ask you more personal questions.

Spencer swallows. He types back quickly.

DOC187: What kinds of questions?

MISS—LILAC: If it's okay, you're real name and what you do. My names Y/N, and I'm a florist. I live in DC and I love romance novels.

Spencer smiles. He appreciates you laying down the path for him, knowing the stakes.

DOC187: My names Spencer and I work for the FBI. I also live in DC, and I love magic.

MISS—LILAC: Magic? I'd love for you to show me sometime.

Spencer swallows. Part of him feels like it's a stupid idea to ask you out so early but if you asked, he'd likely say yes. He decides to wait it out.

DOC187: I'd be more than happy to show you.

MISS—LILAC: I suppose you could send me a video but that's not the same as seeing the magic in real life, now is it?

Spencer is smiling like an idiot at this point. He shakes his head a little, jittery.

DOC187: Infinitely better live, I would say.

MISS—LILAC: Seems like I've found an excuse to ask you on a date then. Saturday's work for me but I'm sure it depends on you, FBI man. Before that, I'm gonna drop my number and I'll be expecting your call. (XXX-XXX-XXXX)

Spencer giggles. It's a little out of range for things he's used to doing, giggling aloud for someone else is certainly new. Spencer picks up his phone and dials away, anxious to call you but excited nonetheless. He heard you pick up the phone and his heart catches in his throat.

"Hello?," Your voice is smooth, and a little bit lower than he was expecting. It sounds pretty.

"Hello, Y/N," Spencer says back. He heard you laugh on the other side and can't help the way his heart flutters.

"Lovely to talk to you doc,"

"Still Doc? Not Spencer?" Spencer questions. You smile on the other side of the line.

"Doc seems to fit you. But, for the sake of formality, hello Spencer,"

"I like Doc too, but it feels like I should have a nickname for you as well. Only seems fair," Spencer says laughing quietly.

"If it's your prerogative you can call me Miss Lilac, or just Miss but..." you trail off for a minute. Spencer squints.

"Miss is a title, you know? Doesn't seem fair for you to call me that when I haven't earned it from you yet. I'm sure we'll get there but for now you can just call me Y/N," you say softly. Spencer blushes bright red, his voice betraying him as he speaks.

"O-Oh, well um - where does the name Lilac come from? Normally people go with their names when it comes to stuff like that," Spencer says shyly. He heard you laugh on the other side of the phone and blushes again, grateful you can't see him.

"I love the language of flowers and flowers themselves. It's a way to speak that not many people know - but I like the meaning and look of lilacs. White lilacs represent purity, so that was a bit of irony, but light purple lilacs mean first love," you say carefully.

"First love?," Spencer asks. You bite your lip for a moment.

"I joke that BDSM is my first love since it's such a big part of my life. Not as big as some but not small for certain. It gave me much needed confidence so I joke that it was my first," You say lightly. You hear Spencer giggle on the other side and you smile.

"What about your username? Any significance to DOC187 that I should know of?," you readjust your seat on your couch as you talk. Spencer grows a bit embarrassed.

"I normally introduce myself as Doctor Spencer Reid for work, not a medical doctor but I have three PhD's," Spencer admits. You raise your brows but hear the hesitation in his voice.

"Very, very impressive doc. What about the 187? It could be a plain ol' number but my guess would be otherwise,"

"That's my IQ, actually. I don't think intelligence can be boiled down and quantified like that but I couldn't think of anything else," Spencer explains.

"So you're a certified genius with 3 PhD's? To say I'm impressed is an understatement. Anything else impressive you'd like to tell me before I totally pick your brains," you say a little shocked.

"You wanna pick my brains?," Spencer asks. You wanna laugh at the irony of such a silly question from such an intelligent man but you refrain.

"Who wouldn't?," you say incredulously. Spencer smiles shyly.

"The only other thing is that I can read 20,000 words per minute," Spencer says trying to deflect. Your jaw dropped before but it manages to unhinge a little further.

"There's a lot to get to know about you Doctor Reid,"

"I'm sure it's the same for you," Spencer replies.

"Guess we'll have to find out won't we?," you say smiling.

Damn, Spencer got lucky. Hopefully he'd get to find out soon

_____

"Reid, are you listening?," Derek's voice snaps Spencer out of his entranced state. His smiling expression snaps up to look at Derek who looks a little exasperated.

"Sorry, what was that?," Spencer asks back. Derek puts down the case file they were working on. They had just finished a case and needed to complete some paperwork before submitting it for review and to be used in court. The job was given to him and Morgan and Spencer was evidently distracted.

"Alright, kid - what is up with you? All case you've been checking your phone non-stop and spacing out, all smiles and giggles. C'mon now kid, seriously. You got a little lady at home waiting for you or is there something else I don't know about?," Derek interrogates. Spencer doesn't really know what to make of it, though it's not really in his interest to hide you, it hasn't really come up with anyone on the team yet so it was proving difficult to decide what to do. The smile on his face manages to appear again as he starts to think about you, the tips of his ears red.

"Reid," Morgan says again, with a small look of irritation.

"Her names Y/N," Spencer blurts out faster than he can't think. Derek gives him a huge grin, holding his hand out to dap Spencer up. Spencer just looks at it confused for a second before getting the memo.

"'My man," Derek says chuckling. Before Spencer can continue Prentiss, JJ, and Garcia walk in. Hotch is the only one missing, and Spencer's a little grateful.

"What are we celebrating in here you guys?," Prentiss asks first. Spencer goes to say something to move away from his sudden confession but Derek is quick to cut him off.

"Our boy genius over here got him a little lady," Derek announces. The whole team erupts in questions and Spencer wants to bury himself.

"Congratulations, Spencer!! How long have you two been dating?," Prentiss asks.

"You guys are so dramatic. It's only been two months but no first date because well..." Spencer trails off. JJ just nods her head.

"Duty calls, I'm guessing" JJ finishes. Spencer nods deflated hearing Emily draw a breath between her teeth.

"That's tough, Spence,"

Just as Spencer goes to give a response back he gets a text from you that makes his day a little better. It's a selfie of you at work, a picture your employee must've taken of you in a room full of new flower deliveries. You're giving Spencer a toothy grin as you hold a bunch of gardenias in your hand.

Y/N 🌸: *image attachment*

Gardenias// You're lovely + Secret Love <33

Spencer cannot control the way his whole face bunches up in a smile, as if there's no one else in the room with him. Everyone just looks at him surprised, Garcia giving him a side-eye.

"How can you guys trust this stranger? We don't even know who she is! I haven't even run any background checks on her," Garcia complains. Prentiss nudges her side.

"I don't know if it matters - look at how hard he's smiling over there," Prentiss says. Garcia reluctantly looks and can't help but sigh.

"Okay well he seems really happy but still! We don't even know her," she pouts.

"I'm sure we'll meet her soon," JJ snickers at Spencer's lovestruck expression. Derek leans over Spencer's shoulder and raises his brows.

"Is that her, kid?," Derek asks. Spencer nods, simply staring at the picture you sent. Derek whistles when he sees you - you're genuinely stunning and he's surprised to say the least.

"Hot mama, pretty boy - how'd you manage that?," Derek asks, dumbfounded. Emily rolls her eyes.

"C'mon Derek, I'm sure - oh wow," Emily leans over Spencer's shoulder to see you and is met with the same reaction. JJ and Garcia are quick to follow thereafter, both looking equally as surprised.

"She's..." JJ trails off. The rest of the team just nods as Spencer grins ear to ear.

Spencer 🐻: Beautiful, as always.

Spencer ignores the rest of the team as they look at each other in disbelief.

Y/N🌸: Me or the flowers, Doc?

Spencer🐻: Both, but mostly you.

"Wow, Spencer you're really -" Prentiss starts

"You're whipped, kid. I mean seriously whipped," Derek finishes, nodding in agreement. JJ can't help but smile, giving Spencer a small pat on the back.

"She seems lovely, Spencer. How'd you two meet?," JJ says. Garcia stands around looking rather suspicious. A blush creeps onto Spencer's neck as he's reminded of how you two met.

"Online," Spencer says shortly. No one decides to question it, and Spencer thanks every god he can think of.

"Have you two FaceTimed yet? How can we know she's not, I don't know - catfishing you? Or scamming you in some other cyber criminal way?," Garcia sounds distressed. Spencer gives a small smile.

"We fall asleep over FaceTime every night," Spencer admits. Penelope's expression falls, and Prentiss gives a smile.

"That is disgustingly cute," JJ says laughing.

"Okay, well - I'm still running a background check on her," Garcia says stubbornly "But, I'm happy for you,"

"Thanks Garcia," Spencer mumbles out as he texts you again.

Y/N🌸: I wanna see you, love

Spencer blushes red as he reads your message. The word love makes his whole face hot.

Spencer🐻: I can't take a selfie for my life

Y/N🌸: You're with your team aren't you? Get them to take a picture of you.

Spencer wants to fold away, not ever really being the picture type, but how could he ever deny you.

Spencer🐻: How could I ever say no to you?

"Hey guys, can one of you take a picture of me for Y/N?" Spencer asks embarrassingly red. The whole team sends him a look of surprise.

"I'll take it Spence, try not to look as uncomfortable as you do right now," JJ says. The whole team refrains from laughing as Spencer gives an awkward smile. He thanks JJ who hands him back his phone before texting you again.

Spencer🐻: *image attachment* You owe me one

Y/N🌸: you're stunning as always. hadn't seen you in so long I almost forgot what you looked like.

Spencer🐻: stunnings an interesting choice of words.

Y/N🌸: I said what I said, doc.

Spencer can't help but do a little giggle, that causes the whole team to give him a look. Morgan just shakes his head, shrugging. Emily, JJ, and Garcia just look at each other before the room draws into a subtle but comfortable silence as Spencer just smiles, totally unaware of how whipped he happened to look. He didn’t seem to mind either way.

___

"How was work?," Spencer asks over the phone, kicking his shoes off as he looks into his fridge for something to eat. He hears you sigh on the other side of the line.

"Busy today - wedding season is coming up so tons of calls for centerpiece designs and costs. It's going well though, business couldn't be better," you say, clearly tired yet content. Spencer gives a small smile and feels relieved that things are going okay for you.

"That's really good. I'm glad you're feeling alright," Spencer replies. You ease into the couch as you talk to Spencer, relaxing by the second.

"What about you, FBI man? You have an okay day?," Your voice is full of a gentle concern that Spencer appreciates.

"Yeah, just paperwork and JJ said that we shouldn't have any upcoming cases this week to be worried about so I have the weekend off," Spencer says without thought.

"Have any special plans for the weekend?," you say cheekily. Spencer, still not having caught on, shakes his head for a second.

"No, why?,"

"Hm... well - would you like to go on a date with me then Doctor Reid?," You ask, giggling. Spencer's eyes widen in realization as he facepalms for a moment.

"Wow, I didn't even think... yes - yes I would love to go on a date with you Y/N," Spencer says laughing at his own misfortune. You shake your head instinctively, but the growing smile and even further growing adoration makes it hard to sit still.

"Hey, Spencer," you say, butterflies filling your stomach.

"Yeah?"

"I really like you,"

____

Saturday comes quicker than Spencer can really understand. You told him not to worry about what the days plans would be but he can't help it. Anxiously awaiting you in front of the cafe that the two of you were supposed to meet at, in a part of town Spencer hasn't really seen before. You said that you'd lead the way and the irony isn't lost on him.

"Spencer?," Your voice is small, as you call out to what you think is Spencer Reid. Of course, you'd seen him before but to see him in person like this was still so unfamiliar. His head shoots up, eyes searching for you. He's delighted to have found you, certainly that was true as he walks towards you. Your arms envelop him in a friendly hug and he can't help but find himself sinking into. You smelled sweet, like fruit and flowers (which makes sense, the more he thinks about it)

"Lovely to finally meet you, Y/N,"

"Same goes for you, doc. Would you like to be informed of our plans for the day, or do you prefer the element of surprise?," You ask smiling. Spencer laughs at your question.

"Details would be appreciated, but I get the feeling you're not gonna give me those."

"You're right! It's a trick question, since it's a surprise. But, promise it'll be good,"

"I'll take your word for it then," Spencer says with a small smile. You hold your hand out for Spencer which he accepts, locking his hands with yours. The affection makes him feel full of warmth, as you lead him away for the day you had planned for the both of you.

___

Spencer underestimated how well you knew him. He really, really did. It's hard to explain since Spencers been on a date before but this was so profoundly different. He's a little touched, but beyond that he's just.. surprised? Every date he'd been on before this, he'd have to play the gentleman but it never seemed like the other person was interested in just him. It was always casual small-talk over dinner, or a mid-day coffee date or something else that just felt mundane but this was beyond Spencer's imagination.

The first place you took him was a bookstore - which was in Spencers mind already a winner for best date he'd ever been on. You walked inside with him and told him he had to pick up a book for you and you had to pick up a book for him and to say his heart absolutely fluttered would be an understatement. He picked up up a copy of "The Screwtape Tales," by C.S. Lewis for you, and you gave him a copy of Shel Silverstein's "Where The Sidewalk Ends." For you, you got a glimpse to see what Spencer's sense of humor was and you gave Spencer a piece of your childhood. Both equal but opposite forms of intimacy. The only thing was Spencer had to wait to read his book because it's relatively shorter than yours and he reads 20,000 words per minute.

The next place you took Spencer was an indoor butterfly garden. Does he have to explain why that's a good date? He heard you talk about all the scientific names for the different flowers and why they attract butterflies and he wasn't sure he could crush any harder on you if he tried. A particular moment sticks out to him on which a butterfly landed on your shoulders and just stayed there like it didn't want to leave. Spencer's eyes were fixated on it the whole time - and he had never wanted to be a butterfly in his life before but he figures there's a first time for everything.

The last place, where the both of you were at now was just a small coffee shop, locally owned and supported by the community here. You told Spencer that when you started up your shop, you'd come in here to work on big orders before you'd expanded enough to have employees. Spencer admires your work ethic, much more than he could ever anticipate as he sits down at a small booth, totally covering the both of you as you return to the table with a little plate of banana bread and two iced coffees. Spencer pouts as he looks up at you, watching you flash him a grin.

"I could've helped you carry this over," Spencer complains gently. You roll your eyes.

"Maybe next time doc," you say softly. You hold back your commentary often on the date, and Spencer pretends not to notice for your sake but he'd be lying if he said he didn't wanna know. You always had something sly to say but you'd kept it from him so many times now he figures it's better if he didn't ask.

Spencer looks at you as you push a plate of banana bread towards him. He looks at you with curious eyes before reading your clearly excited face and laughs. He picks up a piece and examines it, before taking a bite. If it tasted as good as it smelled then he would be more than obliged.

The involuntary moan that escapes Spencer's throat makes you choke with laughter. Shit, you weren't kidding when you said this was the best banana bread in the city. Spencer just looks up at you like he's about to cry with joy as you double over in giggles.

"I know," You say softly, taking a bite yourself eyes filling with joy "I ordered some more for us to take home - you're welcome," you say with confidence. Spencer smiles because that is genuinely thoughtful, but it was more endearing to see you pretend it wasn't. He just shakes his head, a blush arising to his face as he looks at you. You're staring at him with intent. He quirks his brow at you in question.

"I had a good time today, Spencer" You say warmly. You only called him Spencer when you were saying something affectionate and a bit serious. He gives you a toothy smile.

"I haven't been on very many dates, but this was easily the best one I'd ever been on," Spencer says honestly. You grin ear to ear, hands carefully holding Spencer across the table, running your thumb over his knuckles for a few seconds. You couldn't say for sure whether it was too soon to ask him to be your boyfriend, but you'd be damned if you said it didn't cross your mind.

Spencer was mind-numbingly unaware of what good boyfriend material he was, but beyond that - what good submissive boyfriend material he was. It was driving you nuts, but you knew this was all new for him and you didn't wanna freak him out. Even when guys say they're interested in being submissive, they're still often times uncomfortable with you being fully dominant. Dominant in public and in bed, if you will. You wanted to pay for dates, and buy him flowers, and make him feel special too - at least on the occasion. That role came naturally to you, that let me make you feel owned type affection that only a dominant person can give. It scared men off - out of relationships, and you totally got why - but you liked Spencer too much as a person to risk iit.

Spencer holds your hands together, gathering your attention. You looked at him spaced out and he gives you a look of concern.

"You okay?," Spencer asks. You nod, chewing your lip in debate of whether or not you should express your concerns. Spencer just tugs on your hand and looks at you intently.

You sigh, looking at Spencer softly.

"I'm okay I just really like you," you say a little exasperated. Spencer laughs but is filled with relief.

"I'm glad to hear that. What else is on your mind?,"

"I really like you - like in an, I want you to officially by my boyfriend way and I hope it's not too soon but I'm just, worried I guess," you say nervously. Spencer can't help the way his heart beats in his chest when he hears you say boyfriend. God did he want to be your boyfriend.

"What're you worried about?,"

"I'm worried about freaking you out. I can be a lot since I'm... you know?," You say nervously. Spencer looks at you to continue.

"I'm more than just dominant in bed, and for a lot of guys it's not their thing and that's their right but I like you so much. I really don't want that to happen if I ask you out now and you realize that it's not for you," you say in clear upset.

Spencer looks at you in disbelief. You were worried that he was gonna freak out over that? That you were too dominant for him? It feels like such a silly concern but the expression on your face tells him you're speaking from experience.

"I mean, it's all kinda new to me but, well - I do like how you treat me? It's a nice change, I can't imagine myself getting tired of it, or of you. I really like you too," Spencer tried his best to reassure you without totally embarrassing you. You smiles at Spencer but your face is still full of doubt.

"If that ever changes, I'll tell you but I'd really like to call you my girlfriend," Spencer finishes. You can't help the warmth that spreads in your stomach at the offer. You just nod, looking up at him. You stand and walk to Spencer's side of the booth, sliding in next to him, leaning your head into his shoulder for a few while seconds. You sit back up, and Spencer turns to you.

"Hey, doc," you say softly. Spencer hums in acknowledgement.

"Can I kiss you?," you ask softly. Spencer chews his lip and nods, looking down at your lip. You're wearing lipgloss and it makes them look pretty - you are so pretty to Spencer.

Kisses are their own language, Spencer figures. The way someone kisses you can tell you a lot about who they are - so, when you put your hands on the side of Spencer's face, pulling him closer to you with such care and adoration - Spencer can feel what you were referencing earlier. The word Miss rings out in his mind, the way you pay attention to him with your hands. He feels your lips press against his, slowly gliding your fingers in his hair, thumb brushing agains the side of his cheek. Your other hand rested on his inner thigh and he has to think about anything other than that not to get hard. Spencer didn't get how much he'd been thinking about touching you until you'd do with no hesitation and he lets out a small whine. You pull back and Spencer has to catch his breath.

His lashes blink up at you and you're absolutely beaming.

"You're cute baby,"

Baby? Spencer wants to cover his face when you say it. You kiss him again and he can't help but feel flush.

You were Spencer's girlfriend and then some and he couldn't be more happy.

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid angst #spencer reid oneshot #spencer x y/n #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #Criminal Minds #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #sub!spencer #sub!spencer reid #so nervous abt uploading this lol

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itssolonelyhere · 3 years

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Happy to hear your back and queen is cont. Will you ever update dreams of a monomaniac or is it discontinued for good? I rlly like princess of zho and beheader but they haven't been updated in years but ill still have hope. i read kingdom because i liked them so much. your a good writer so im okay with whatever you. have you considered sakura x re8? That would be interesting and your rlly good with crossovers. good luck and welcome back ⊂(￣▽￣)⊃

AHello, anon!!!

Thank you for the kind words and I'll try to answer the best I can. It really has been a long time since I updated my old-old work... Dreams of a Monomaniac, The Last Princess of Zhao, and The Beheader were all started in 2015, a few years after I moved to help take care of my sick father. Fanfic was like my little corner where I could just take a break and escape reality for just a bit. After he passed away at the end of 2016, I had a really hard time continuing my work. I was devastated and fell into a deep depression that seemed never-ending. I did maybe one or two updates over the course of four years and wasn't happy with them. I only did it out of guilt after seeing messages from readers who missed them. Those definitely weren't my best by any means...

My passion for writing came back at the beginning of 2020 when I rewatched TDK and decided to give it a go one more time. It wasn't my usual crack pairings or crossovers, but something new which excited me. I do honestly want to finish my old work. It's just hard because when I reread them, it reminds me of a painful time in my life that I don't want to think about. Not only that but my writing was crap and I feel the need to edit them to hell and back lol (they're all pretty long and it'll take forever). They will be picked back up someday... just when I'm emotionally and mentally ready to. That might not be the answer you were hoping for but I'd rather be honest than giving a specific time frame and you being disappointed if it doesn't happen. I do appreciate you enjoying them, being patient with my irregular schedule, and even reading the Kingdom manga, which is pretty time-consuming.

As for Sakura and Resident Evil 8? Consider me mind-blown 🤯. I spend way more time than should be allowed daydreaming and coming up with weird ideas but I really like this one. Since I read this ask, I have all these different scenarios swirling around in my head. There are a million updates I need to work on but this kind of slide-lined my thinking process and got me excited. A one-shot? A full-on fic? Slowburn? Who's POV? What kind of pairing? How would any of this even work? You messed up my day 😤lol (jk). I like the idea of possibly doing a Lady Sakura x Heisenberg fic (no clue what kind of ship name they'd have... HeisenSaku, KarlSaku, Heiku? 😵) and changing up some of the game's original story. Hidan would make a cool Lord too. Maybe I can do a crossover and include two additional Lords into the fray (Sakura and Hidan). We'll see where that goes, I guess... It's an interesting concept I could plan out for a future fic.

Sorry this is a bit long... Anyway, thanks a lot for sending this in and being interested in my work! I know it can be frustrating sometimes when a fic you enjoy is suddenly abandoned. I'm grateful for your patience and for hanging in there with me. Hopefully sometime soon I can finally finish what I started years ago 🙏. I also appreciate the story ideas and I'm more than willing to hear you out or answer any other question you might have. Oh, and that kaomoji is really cute. Sending lots of good vibes your way! 💖

#asks #anon #Thank you!#my writing #Sakura Haruno #my muse #ideas #fanfiction #crossover #updates #Resident Evil 8 #Karl Heisenberg #oh the possibilities #crack pairings #Naruto fandom #fun stuff

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flydotnet · 3 years

Text

Bad Things Happen Bingo! The event where you send me requests according to this marvelous card! (Red cross is the completed prompt, character headshots are prompts I’ve already filled).

To what extent would go to save someone else's life?

This prompt was always going to be difficult, but hey, I did manage to come up with an interesting solution to it... or, at least, that's why I'd like to think. I originally planned on having Naomi for "I Should Have Been Better" (as I told Doc multiple times, "what better character for it than Naomi?", but the guy is having the last laugh about this one now, that's for sure). Some soul out there will have recognized the title from somewhere and understood what we're heading for because, yes, this entire story was inspired by the fact I wanted to use this semi-obscure reference as a title. You'll see what I mean later. Anyway, this fic was pretty cool to write, even if, again, I suffer from writing too much build-up because I want to explore a universe I'm probably never going to touch ever again. This is starting to grow into a recurring issue with me, it'd seem. Oh well, if it inspires someone's work, then I'm all good with my penchant for copious amounts of worldbuilding.

Also, Alyssa and Naomi's relationship is wonderful and it's a shame I haven't written it before, what the fuck me.

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Androzani

Summary: When faced with the prospect of her newest companion's potential death, Naomi is ready to put everything on the line... even her life.

Fandom: Trauma Center/Team (fantasy AU)

Wordcount: 3K words

Event hosted by @badthingshappenbingo

AO3 version available here.

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Her shoulders bear the weight of her losses – friends she had to leave behind, people whose death she couldn’t prevent, companions that never were – yet Naomi has kept moving, trying to shove her past behind her anywhere she walks, as if going through purgatory for eternity.

Her reputation has preceded her for decades, by now: the woman dressed in black with silver hair like the pale moonlight, going from place to place. Nobody knows of her true intent, whether she sides with good or evil, with life or death until they discover she is a healer who was banished from her native region due to some sort of catastrophic event long forgotten by history.

How ironic is that someone whose roots got cut off by a guillotine is still alive and roaming this world when, surely, her supposed people have all died from illness, injury or natural causes by now: it has, after all, been a thousand years since the “Corpse Whisperer” got forced into exile over the supposed curse she bore, the curse which spread an illness she still doesn’t have an answer to over towns and villages until it just disappeared with her.

On her travels, she met a lot of people, some of whom travelled with her for a time, some whom she barely got to know.

There was Nathan, a boy who had escaped from a doomsday cult. He was an eager companion, swearing he’d follow her until the end of the world would have she decided so, because she was the first friend he had ever gotten – he died saving her, rather than the other way around, when a spear plunged inside his chest and only came out when his blood had stopped flowing and his skin had turned to clay. She closed his eyes, buried him and marked the grave with white lilac, never to look back again.

There was Ivan, a man barely younger than her supposed age, who wanted to understand her and help her save people with his benevolent magic and overwhelmingly positive intentions. He fought hard against near-death situations, some where she had decided it was better to expect death than survival, but his optimism kept these people alive. She had tot leave him behind after he contracted a lethal disease and he couldn’t keep with her, leaving behind the bitter taste of failure, loneliness and uncertainty. She never went back to where their ways parted, afraid to know the inevitable answer as to his whereabouts.

There was Cassandra, a middle-aged woman with a stern face and an inexorable will. Despite all the hardships she had faced in her life, she had always stood back up, without even displaying any sort of pain. She had grown a reputation for her ruthless methods, being ostracized, and travelled with her so she could mend her ways and heal who she could with the apothecary knowledge she had been blessed with during her youth. She drank her own poison so she wouldn’t have to surrender in the face of certain defeat, plunging herself in an eternal sleep, while Naomi could only watch, wrists and ankles keeping her from acting, until these dissolved and she could avenge her fallen friend. Cassandra’s breath never went out, so Naomi made her a chamber hidden in a deep, dense forest in a hope that, someday, she’d find the antidote Cassandra had spilled on the ground.

There was Eglantine, a girl barely in her teens, who went to follow her because her parents had abandoned her and everybody else thought she was cursed because of her unusually pale skin, hair and eyes, thinking she was a stillborn animated by a malevolent spirit. Beneath her skin was an incredible potency, which she didn’t dare use until she needed to. Her short life ended in a tragic, senseless sacrifice when she rushed into battle and blocked an enemy’s way so Naomi could run away and “get out alive”, as she had screamed before taking an entire group of thieves with her to a certain death.

There have been a lot of them, over the centuries, but none of them have been immortals like her. None of them have healing magic as powerful as hers, none of them can endure so much. All of them have promised her to stay with her until she could settle down again, none of them could ever hold these promises, and it’s fine to her: she’s used to involuntarily broken promises. She’s used to the feeble nature of humans, of the uncursed ones.

She has grown more and more hesitant to accept new companions, over time. She tried to be cold towards them, to use her sombre reputation as a deterring agent – but some people are just in need of misery’s company, even her, and so they stick around until illness, injury, death, love or opportunity split them apart and the cycle continues. Naomi is used to it. She doesn’t even give her name to people anymore: it’s easier for both sides if these companions call them by whatever nickname the rumours about her convey.

The “Corpse Whisperer” is only one facet of her fictional identity, one of her many names and perhaps the least flattering. Over the years, she has accumulated them: “Cursed One”, “Black Healer”, “Reaping Doctor”, “Nameless Widow”, “Lady of the Last Sight”… Everywhere she’s gone, they’ve adopted a new name for her, to the point the name she was given at birth is nothing but lost to the sands of times, like numerous books she’s read, like the names of her fallen companions. So much things pass by your eyes when time doesn’t affect you anymore. Such is her curse, after all.

Even with time, the wounds left by her losses never truly scar. Every death in which she’s had some amount of responsibility weight on her shoulders, even if as time passes, she starts to forget more and more the individuality of her former partners. And, the heavier the luggage gets, the darker she tries to be, the more reclusive she behaves, so someone else doesn’t have to get hurt while following her on her eternal quest to heal others and, maybe, just maybe, finally find the way to end her own life.

Still, despite how much she has cried and screamed already, death continues to affect her when she can see blood on her hands or a cold limb at her feet. Even recently, she got bit in the throat by the death of two parents who had crossed her ways in unfortunate circumstances and she came too late to save them. As they let out their last breath, she met eyes with a curious little girl’s green irises full of life, and that’s when she knew – Naomi would be traveling with someone else once more.

Neither Alyssa nor she had a choice in the matter. The poor girl didn’t have any remaining relatives and the place where she lived was infested by werewolves, the same species that had killed her parents. Naomi couldn’t leave someone as young and frail as a ten-year-old girl suffer in the claws of the wolves on two legs that couldn’t control their animalistic urges. It quickly became her mission to redeem herself from letting two new persons die in front of her eyes by bringing Alyssa to a safe haven where she could have a normal life until Naomi herself found a solution to the lycanthropic problem.

However, and despite having guessed what happened, despite all of her tears and all of her pain, Alyssa has always told Naomi she didn’t hold anything against her, that she did her best when she tried to use her magic to bring back to life the recently deceased. Her smile, which at first was timid and more of a façade, has grown into an earnest one. Every time she sees it, it warms Naomi’s heart, but it reminds her head to remain cool and not to get attached because it’ll end badly for the both of them.

For a while, it was fine to have Alyssa around. They mostly went from village to village, from city to city, and Naomi made sure her protégée wasn’t in contact with the filth and contagion of the sick. Healed bone after healed bone, cured sickness after cured sickness, Naomi found herself enjoying the light-hearted chatters of Alyssa, going from refusing to answer her various questions on the world and herself to replying to them with more and more details.

It was already too late, by that point, but Naomi still liked to believe Alyssa would one day leave on her own terms and her wounds just heal for once. After all, they were only travelling together because Alyssa needed a new home to grow up in and have a chance at a normal life after the atrocious had happened.

However, that delusion has come to an end, as she’s now forced to make the biggest choice in her life, one that could cost her everything. At long last, the taste of death and the melody of the epilogue come back to her, making her feel more alive than ever, but at what price?

Alyssa has been poisoned with what she can only assume to have been a powerful, yet not instantly deadly substance. She missed catching its name when someone told her what was happening to Alyssa, what was causing her the rashes and the fever that keeps going up and up, but it reminds her of something – animantha toxaemia. A beautiful flower whose pollen has killed its fair share of humans, with no real cure known aside from a taxing healing spell, one forbidden not by choice, but by need.

Their meeting with the flower was unfortunate. Alyssa and she were on the run from some unforeseen adversaries and, once they had successfully lost them in the forest, Alyssa got curious about the deep purple beauty of the flower’s petals. Alyssa touched it when she inspected it before Naomi could remove the girl’s fingers from the stem and petals. Both are running away from death. Quite ironic, coming from the woman who was once nicknamed “the Silver Reaper”, but… what matters isn’t her fate, it’s Alyssa’s.

Naomi has managed to get them both out of the forest, but unfortunately, she’s starting to feel the paralysis effects of the flower in her legs, and that’s when she realizes she must have been in contact with a lethal dose of the flower’s poison. One thing the curse hasn’t protected her from is illnesses of this kind, and judging by the fever poor Alyssa has fallen victim to, she doesn’t count on staying alive much longer. She’d have expected herself to be pleasantly surprised by the prospect of finally passing away, since she has seen so much already, and roaming the Earth for about four centuries is starting to take a toll on her spirit – but she has never felt so alive, because danger is a powerful catalyser, and she has a life to save.

A final life, judging by what she needs to pay for what she’s about to do, but a worthy price to pay and perhaps the life that has mattered the most to her throughout her long, elongated life. She’s torn about having to leave Alyssa to her own devices, but they’re in a village, now, and Naomi hopes the inhabitants that took enough pity on them to lend them the small house they’re currently in will help her. She’s still young, barely fourteen, and she doesn’t want Alyssa to struggle again once she’s gone.

There’s no time to question it, however. The toxaemia has four stages, the last being an inexorable rise of internal temperature until the affected person inevitably dies. However, she can’t let that happen, and she has to act quick, because getting the both of them back to a safer haven has taken so long that Alyssa is at least in the third stage and, again, judging from her temperature, is crossing into the last before… before the inevitable happens.

There are numerous times where she wanted to give her life to save another, but never got to do it because the other person died before her eyes before she ever could or because they did it first, leaving her alone again, most of them eternally unaware of her immortality. Now, however, she’s the one who has to do it, because Alyssa isn’t a mage like her, wasn’t born with the ability to cast spells, and she’s someone who deserves to live life at its fullest, unlike her.

Naomi has made her decision the moment she touched the flower and nothing is going to make her go back on her decision – aside from the idea to leave Alyssa alone, but the girl has made some friends in the village due to how kind she is, so at least, Naomi has some hope. If her companions have shown her something, it’s that there still are good people in this world, no matter how many atrocities she’s seen.

Almost three centuries ago, she learnt spells that are now forbidden. One of them, whose original scroll has been burnt in an attempt to silence its deadly power, is the antidote to animantha poisoning. There may have been another way, hidden away in a forgotten script or still being conceived by some hermit mage or witch living in remote woods, but she doesn’t have the time to question it. All she can do, now, is apply the formula as she’s learnt it, hoping her spell memory has exceeded human standards. The curse should have at least given her that, if she was to become the Codex of Magic.

Her last name – the “Codex of Magic”, the true purpose of the curse inflicted on her so many years ago. How ironic, considering she’s lent all of the scripts she’s copied again in the bag she always carries with her, that she dies by the hands of one of the spells she was meant to preserve for prosperity. Even if she survives, she won’t be able to use the spell on herself afterwards in a timely manner, so she hopes Alyssa carries on her will. That’s all she wants.

Ignoring the pain in her limbs and her own rising fever, Naomi gathers her powers in both palms of her hands, summoning all of her healing prowess for one last show. The spell calls for specific incantations, which flow out of her mouth as if she was born to say them at some point – something about summoning the power of hope itself, serving as its vessel for a miracle, giving up one’s life for the sake of another. The spell was named “Hope of the Unending Agape” for a reason, after all, and Naomi doesn’t have anything else to lose.

The amount and intensity of the mana running through her entire body is searing her from the inside as her hands carefully cradle Alyssa on the bed of the house, cupping the girl’s face as the mage hopes it will work as intended. Alyssa must survive, it’s all that matters, she doesn’t care about the price of it all, just give this girl her life back, don’t take her away from the mortal realm so soon, not when she has so much to see and discover, so much to live and smile at.

Hope can take her soul, she doesn’t care, but that flower won’t take away Alyssa’s, she swears on her life. One has lived for too long and the other is too young to pass away.

This spell feels like inflicting agony on oneself, so her vision is starting to give in and so do most of her sense following it. She’s burning on the inside, either from the spell or from the toxaemia, but there’s no way for her to distinguish anymore. What she knows, however, is that Alyssa’s skin is cooling down and her tremors are fading away. This is more than a relief: she’ll survive. Alyssa will see another day and have the life she deserves, sunny and beautiful.

Little by little, frame by frame, Alyssa’s complexion regains its colour, the red stains on her cheeks disappearing. The sweat that was pearling on her skin fades away. Her frowned feature relax and give way to a peaceful expression, as if she had been sleeping all along. It’s a beautiful sight, really.

However, the same can’t be said for Naomi, as a huff of platinum smoke escapes from her lips and she collapses in pain. She has exhausted every cell of her being, or so it feels like, and it’s up to the curse to see if she’s worth saving – she doubts it, because a curse is a curse, and being a benefactor for its host would go against its own nature.

It very much feels like she’s dying, at long last. Her vision is mostly black now, safe for a couple blurry shapes, and most of her senses have already given in: her hearing has been replaced with a sort of slightly disturbed silence, she can’t tell what she’s touching and the only taste in her mouth is that of copper and iron. All she can feel are the tears going down her cheeks and the relief that, at least, someone is getting out of this alive.

Despite technically meeting her end at the hands of a toxic flower, Naomi doesn’t see it this way: she views her demise as the ultimate act to save a life and, as such, doesn’t have the shadow of a regret. Sure, there may have been things she’d have wished to do before she’d die, and her survival is a very unlikely gambit on the curse acting up; but they don’t matter compare to the reasons why she did such a thing, why she took on someone’s deadly pain onto herself.

The only thing she’ll be missing is the warmth of Alyssa’s voice…

When Alyssa wakes up from something that was between a dream and a nightmare, which she can’t remember aside from the magnificent gaze of a solar goddess looking to her eyes, she quickly realizes what she saw in her sleep wasn’t a figment of her imagination – and immediately knows, upon touching long and slender lukewarm hands, she has a task to accomplish to pay back a life-changing favour.

#bad things happen bingo #trauma center #trauma team #naomi kimishima #alyssa breslin #empathic healing #my writing #tw death #angst #bthb

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inu-fiction · 5 years

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PSA: Stuff You Maybe Didn’t Realize You Can Back Up To AO3, And How To Tag it

Tumblr seems to be in potential death throes or at least, incredibly volatile and unreliable lately, but we’ve done some pretty good and informative work on canon analysis and reference guides so I was looking for ways to back it up without losing it...and the solution became obvious to me: Archive of Our Own, aka AO3. “What?” you might ask if you are less familiar with their TOS. “Isn’t that just a fanfic archive??” No! It’s a fanWORK archive. It is an archive for fanworks in general! “Fanwork” is a broad term that encompasses a lot of things, but it doesn’t just include fanfic and fanart, vids etc; it also includes “fannish” essays and articles that fall under what’s often called “meta” (from the word for “beyond” or “above”, referencing that it goes beyond the original exact text)! The defining factor of whether Archive of Our Own is the appropriate place to post it is not whether or not it’s a fictional expansion of canon (fanfic), though that is definitely included - no, it’s literally just “is this a work by a ‘fan’ intended for other ‘fannish’ folks/of ‘fannish’ interest?” The articles we’ve written as a handy reference to the period-appropriate Japanese clothing worn by Inuyasha characters? The analyses of characters? The delineations of concrete canon (the original work) vs common “fanon” (common misconceptions within the fandom)? Even the discussion of broader cultural, historical, and geographic context that applies to the series and many potential fanworks? All of those are fannish nonfiction! Which means they absolutely can (and will) have a home on AO3, and I encourage anybody who is wanting to back up similar works of “fannish interest” - ranging from research they’ve done for a fic, to character analyses and headcanons - to use AO3 for it, because it’s a stable, smooth-running platform that is ad-free and unlike tumblr, is run by a nonprofit (The OTW) that itself is run by and for the benefit of, fellow fans. Of course, that begs the question of how to tag your work if you do cross-post it, eh? So on that note, here’s a quick run-down of tags we’re finding useful and applicable, which I’ve figured out through a combination of trial and error and actually asking a tag wrangler (shoutout to @wrangletangle for their invaluable help!): First, the Very Broad: - “ Nonfiction ”. This helps separate it from fanfic on the archive, so people who aren’t looking for anything but fanfic are less likely to have to skim past it, whereas people looking for exactly that content are more likely to find it. - while “Meta” and “Essay” and even “Information” are all sometimes used for the kinds of nonfiction and analytical works we post, I’ve been told “ Meta Essay ” is the advisable specific tag for such works. This would apply to character analyses, reference guides to canon, and even reference guides to real-world things that are reflected in the canon (such as our articles on Japanese clothing as worn by the characters). The other three tags are usable, and I’ve been using them as well to cover my bases, but they’ll also tend to bring up content such as “essay format” fanfic or fanfic with titles with those words in them - something that does not happen with “Meta Essay”.

- I’ve also found by poking around in suggested tags, that “ Fanwork Research & Reference Guides ” is consistently used (even by casual users) for: nonfiction fannish works relating to analyses of canon materials; analyses of and meta on fandom-specific or fanwork-specific tropes; information on or guides to writing real-world stuff that applies to or is reflected in specific fandoms' media (e.g. articles on period-appropriate culture-specific costuming and how to describe it); and expanded background materials for specific fans' fanworks (such as how a given AU's worldbuilding is supposed to be set up) that didn't fit within the narrative proper and is separated out as a reference for interested readers. Basically, if it's an original fan-made reference for something specific to one or more fanworks, or a research aid for writing certain things applicable to fanworks or fannish interests in general, then it can fall under that latter tag.

- You should also mark it with any appropriate fandom(s) in the “Fandom” field. Just like you would for a fanfic, because of course, the work is specifically relevant to fans of X canon, right? If it discusses sensitive topics, or particular characters, etc., you should probably tag for those. E.g. “death” or “mental illness”, “Kagome Higurashi”, etc.

Additionally, if you are backing it up from a Tumblr you may wish to add: - “ Archived From Tumblr “ and/or “ Cross-Posted From Tumblr ” to reference the original place of publication, for works originally posted to tumblr. (I advise this if only because someday, there might not be “tumblr” as we know it, and someone might be specifically looking for content that was originally on it, you never know) - “ Archived From [blog name] Blog ”; this marks it as an archived work from a specific blog. And yes, I recommend adding the word “blog” in there for clarity- Wrangletangle was actually delighted that I bothered to tag our first archived work with “Archived From Inu-Fiction Blog” because being EXTREMLY specific about things like that is super helpful to the tag wranglers on AO3, who have to decide how to categorize/”syn” (synonym) various new tags from alphabetized lists without context of the original posting right in front of them. In other words, including the name AND the word “blog” in it, helps them categorize the tag on the back end without having to spend extra time googling what the heck “[Insert Name Here]” was originally.

Overall, you should be as specific and clear as possible, but those tags/tag formats should prove useful in tagging it correctly should you choose to put fannish essays and articles up on AO3 :) Oh, and protip sidebar for those posting, especially works that are more than plain text: you can make archiving things quicker and easier for yourself, but remember to plan ahead for tumblr’s potential demise/disabling/service interruptions. The good news: You can literally copy and paste the ENTIRE text of a tumblr post from say, an “edit” window, on tumblr, straight into AO3′s Rich Text Format editor, and it will preserve pretty much all or almost all of the formatting - such as bold, italics, embedded links, etc! But the bad news: keep in mind that while AO3 allows for embedded images and it WILL transfer those embedded images with a quick copy-paste like that, AO3 itself doesn’t host the images for embedding; those are still external images. This means that whether or not they continue to load/display for users, depends entirely on whether the file is still on the original external server! As I quickly discovered, in the case of posts copied from the Edit window of a tumblr post, the images will still point to the copies of the images ON tumblr’s servers. What this means is that you should back up (save copies elsewhere of) any embedded images that you consider vital to such posts, in case you need to upload them elsewhere and fiddle with where the external image is being pulled from, later. Personally, I’m doing that AND adding image descriptions underneath them, just to be on the safe side (and in fairness, this makes it more accessible to people who cannot view the images anyway, such as sight-impaired people who use screen readers or people who have images set to not automatically display on their browser, so it’s win-win)

#signal boost #psa #archiving #fanworks #archive of our own #ao3 #the great big migration to ao3 #how to #inuyasha #how to tag

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saikagerights · 4 years

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A New Possession One Shot- Christmas Date

Hello Saiino nation, long time no see. It’s been about a week since my last entry and a lot has happened. An update on me is that unfortunately the anti-depressant I started taking caused my ill-feeling these past couple of days. I was luckily able to get some time off of work to recover, but it’s a holiday weekend over here in the U.S. so my personal situation will probably be ongoing into this week.

But enough about me! We finally have the Christmas chapter, or should I say, one shot. I decided to post this as an extra one shot to better lure people from Archive onto my journal. But it’s also because this is the first narrative piece written in over a year. This time with actual dialogue. I realized from my previous entries that I am capable of writing like this, and I did enjoy writing like this. I do plan on writing more narrative tie-ins to the journal, so you can expect to see more. However, this particular story line I had a bit of trouble, since I know in the timeline it’s still a bit too early for Sai and Ino to get together. I decided to take inspiration from multiple fics in order to get a coherent idea. I particularly took a running theme in omegafire17′s classic fic Art Date.

I also want to once again shout out my bf for listening to my dribble and helping me edit this. He wants to complain, but I know he enjoys doing this.

This was my first true hurdle since beginning this project, so I am excited to finally overcome it so I can continue on with the story proper, I hope you also enjoy it. I also hope you enjoy angst, because this has got plenty of it.

Also on AO3

“Are you doing anything Christmas Eve?”

Ino froze at Sai’s words, trying to process them. Of all the things she expected to come out of Sai’s mouth, which was quite a list mind you, she had never expected him to ask about Christmas. She had her back turned to him as she had assumed he was only visiting to ask more overly-complicated questions about the journal she gave him.

But Sai of all people asking her about plans on Christmas Eve?

If she were still 16, the idea of being asked out on Christmas Eve would’ve given her enough joy to last her a lifetime. But she was now 19, and this was Sai.

Perhaps he’s been sent to inform her of a group gathering. She turned around, applying a small smile as an attempt to enforce a casual atmosphere.

“Nothing in particular. I will be working here a bit, but we’re closing early. Is there something going on?”

His expression then grew pensive, as if he had realized that he once again slipped into his mask. He was truly a challenge for a highly skilled interrogator like her to read, but the more she spoke with him, the more she could pinpoint the cracks in his false demeanor. With this, she could tell that he was having a bit of difficulty with communicating his words.

“Well, I was thinking about inviting you over to celebrate with me.”

Ok so the group gathering was out the window and now her mind was taking a slow but steady nose dive into panic. Sai asking her out on Christmas Eve of all times seemed too unbelievable to be true.

Don’t get her wrong, she still found the young man incredibly attractive. She’d be lying to herself if she didn’t acknowledge the finer points in his appearance. Like his face, or his hair, or his body...

“Uh-” she stammered before he continued.

“I figured since you have given me so much during the span of our friendship, that I could perhaps repay you. Christmas just seemed to be good timing.”

His eyebrows raised slightly, reflecting the utter innocence in his request. Ino inwardly sighed, relieved at his clarification.

More like bad timing… Of course it would be as pure intentioned as him.

It’s not as if she would’ve rejected his advances if it were a date. In fact, she’s been wanting to pull back more of the layers and dig into that inner psyche of his since they met, but that was before she realized how delicate his situation truly was.

The mission to the Land of Silence proved to her that the only way she could truly connect to Sai is if he’d let her in. His trauma ran deep. Deep enough to cover up his true smile and emotional responses.

Seeing his smile in the depths of his subconscious made her heart weep and flutter all at once.

She truly wanted to get to know him better, but he had to get to know himself first. This was her intention when she gave him that journal to write in, and based on his accounts it seemed like it was doing the trick. It also helped that they had engaged in more small talk when he visited the shop.

But now a true opportunity has presented itself to Ino to finally delve into that mysterious aura that had once allured her.

Okay, maybe it’s still a bit alluring now.

As she relaxed, her nervous grin fell into a soft smile.

“So tell me more about this gift of yours…”

________________________________________________________________

Ino followed Sai as he led her through the village, absorbing the environment around her. Christmas Eve in Konoha had always been nothing short of festive; Strung up lights floated above the heads of those walking along the snow ridden paths. Gazing at the ground before her, she couldn’t help being overcome by memories of her childhood perched atop her father’s shoulders as their family strolled through those very same sights. Christmas hasn’t been the same without him. Nothing was the same without him if she were honest. Especially to her poor mother, who had insisted she depart with Sai while she finished closing up for the night.

She glanced at her companion walking beside her. Sai’s expression was unreadable as ever, but she couldn’t help but be transfixed by his cold and focused eyes staring forward towards their destination. She quickly turned her head away as his gaze moved towards her, face growing warm and ponytail whipping behind her. She had tied it up for this outing in order to restrain her hair from being harassed by the winter wind.

Why am I like this? I know this is only him being friendly.

But she couldn’t help him being so beautiful.

Hoping he had shifted his focus back to the road, she turned her head once more in his direction, only to find him still staring down at her.

His expression softened in moderate confusion. “Is there something wrong?”

“No!” She tried to clarify through frivolous waves of the hand. “I was just remembering something…” Ino trailed off for a moment, trying to assess the interaction before deciding on a new route. “Do you spend every Christmas with girls?” She resorted to her typical method of teasing in hopes to take some of the heat off. That may be difficult with what she was working with. He probably couldn’t even understand the nature of her words.

As expected, his confusion was still as strong as ever. He lifted his gaze back to the road.

“The few times I’ve experienced this holiday have been at the gatherings that Naruto puts together. You’ve attended a few of them yourself…” Sai paused in his speech before returning his dark stare down to her. “Were you so inebriated that you have forgotten?”

She found herself flushed once more, covering her face with both hands. She wanted to scream, or at the least groan in frustration, but didn’t want to discourage him. Ino needed to be patient with him. She took a deep breath before throwing her hands down to her sides accompanied by an audible exhale.

“I remember Sai, I was just poking fun. You have to know what teasing is, right?”

The curt nod he gave her had enough force to shake the dark bangs that covered his eyes. “Of course. Teasing is an act intended to provoke someone in playfulness. It is still a little hard for me to identify a teasing remark, however.”

As he looked away, his frown deepened, giving her the impression that he was disheartened by that fact. To prevent him from caving in on himself, she lightly placed her hand on his bicep in encouragement. He shivered, eyes wide and pale skin looking even paler as she quickly pulled away. She tried to keep her tone as gentle as she could muster so as to not startle him further.

“It’s okay. I’m sure you will someday.”

Sai only hummed in acknowledgement, peering at her from the corner of his eye. His body was still tense, reeling from the contact.

Mission failed. I just want him to be able to trust me.

Just as the awkward silence dropped on them like a weight, they had arrived at their destination. The silence continued until they entered his small apartment. The flat wasn’t very homey, but it seemed to have suited Sai. The bare necessities with his supplies littered around the room. An easel accompanied by a short stool sat in the center of the floor. Another stool was placed across from it.

She watched as Sai hastily padded around the space, grabbing small things here and there in preparation for the painting.

Ino had been surprised when Sai proposed the idea of painting her given how naturally intimate the process seeme. He would be giving her his undivided attention, something she had always yearned for, and creating something entirely out of her image. It was a fairly high ranking gesture on the romance meter if you asked her.

“Ino?”

Lost in her thoughts, she hadn’t realized that he had already taken a seat and was gazing at her expectantly. Shaking her head clear of thoughts once more, Ino slowly made her way towards the stool that awaited her across from him.

She readily noticed the artist’s calculating eyes upon her when she took her seat. His head was slightly tilted, a pale hand covering his mouth.

“Is there anything in particular you wish for me to do?”

He said nothing for a few moments, still processing his vision she presumed. She watched intently as his hand slipped down to uncover his mouth, focusing only on the movement of his lips.

“I planned on having you pose yourself, but I would personally prefer your hair down for this.”

She felt warmth rise into her face, averting her eyes from his gaze once more as she brought her hands up to remove the tie from her hair. Her fingers combed at her golden locks that cascaded down her back.

“Is that better?”

She returned her eyes to him to find that his expression had remained static.

So much for looking seductive

She let out a frustrated sigh and relented to placing her hands into her lap.

She still found his face unchanged. He almost looked troubled. Regarding her for a moment more, he rose from his stool and stepped over to her, grabbing her face without hesitation and positioning it slightly to the right.

“Apologies, this seemed much easier than directing you.” Once seated, he peered at her from the side of the easel, a grin stretched across his face

“But to answer your previous question, yes.”

Ino’s hands reflexively lifted from her lap to wipe at her face in aggravation.

Sai’s face reappeared from the side of his canvas, this time sporting a look that was far less amused than before.

“It would be better if you tried not to move or speak during this process.”

Silence suddenly blanketed the room. A common theme with him. She could tell he had started his work because she could only hear the sounds of his pencil scratching the canvas. Outlining, she assumed. Ino had also noticed how often he peeked from behind his canvas to look at her. It was quite amusing to watch his ever-changing glare from her perspective. His thin eyes narrowed, growing even thinner. Sometimes she would be graced by the twisting of his lips, exposing dimples she never would’ve guessed he had in the first place. She especially couldn’t help but notice the way his brow lifted along with one corner of his mouth, almost as if some part of her was particularly interesting to him.

But what was so interesting? She could easily find out if she put her mind to it. Perhaps all Sai needed was some careful instruction and physical persuasion to bring out those feelings she knew he had. He would probably be eager to learn if she truly insisted. Tonight could present itself with a teaching opportunity if she looked hard enough. He’d probably be up for it, maybe his invitation meant something more.

What am I thinking?! Of course it didn’t!

Ino left her mind to wander into dangerous territory and she had finally become aware. Her resolve was crumbling more and more by the minute and they had only just begun. She wasn’t sure what was worse, the concentrated silence that enveloped him, or that strange lift in his voice. The one that otherwise betrayed the more dreary expression that usually occupied his face.

He’s just trying to be friends! And yet-

Ino shot up from the stool, stiff as a board. She caught a glimpse of Sai from behind his canvas before he noticed, a serene smile adorning his face.

He was really enjoying himself. And she was about to ruin that…

“What’s wrong?”

Genuine bewilderment had spread across his expression.

“Sai, I’m sorry, I just can’t do this.”

Sai sat rooted in his seat, pupils shaking as his mind was incapable of processing the situation

“I-I don’t understand. Wh-what do you mean?”

Ino wanted to explain, but the thoughts couldn’t form. She didn’t quite understand what was going on with her either. She picked up her discarded jacket and made a move to leave, but was impeded by Sai’s hand tightly gripping hers.

“Please, at least explain what I did wrong. I thought this was what friends do.” His eyes pleaded with her. Pulling away from his grasp was what finally uprooted him, but he stood frozen in place as she fled towards the door.Her eyes watered as she looked back at his still form and dejected expression. She was really going to break his healing heart, and it killed her.

Ino’s control had vanished, leaving her vulnerable to her oncoming feelings. She needed time to think about the door she was about to enter, and getting worked up over it now would only make it worse.

What could’ve happened if her thoughts strayed any further?

Would she have acted upon her deep-rooted desires?

It doesn’t matter what I want. Sai just doesn’t need that...

“It’s not you, I promise. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s all me. I’m sorry-”

The door slammed shut behind her before he even had a chance to think over it.

And that makes this one shot complete. Angsty as hell. I hope that I did Ino justice with this one. I didn’t want to break Sai’s heart, but it had to be done for the sake of forwarding the plot

Also to properly convey, Christmas Eve is a romantic holiday where couples go out and spend time with one another, similarly to the western Valentine’s day. Not yet sure when the next entry will be posted, but it is coming. I do have multiple ideas for how the story develops after this occurrence. Hopefully I’ll have enough content to get through until the next milestone, the Sakura Hiden.

Thanks for sticking with me during what is considered a difficult time for me. And until the next one,

-Saikage

#Sai Journal #saiino #sai yamanaka #Ino Yamanaka #si fanfic #sj oneshot

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halfbloodglader · 4 years

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A Heavy Burden - Gally

Gally x reader - 2,708 words

Request; hey! can u write a gally fic where he likes the reader but is too shy to tell her...some of the other gladers find out and in order to stop them from saying anything gally makes a deal of some sort where he gets beat up every night? It goes on a while but the reader finds him?

lol this one is kinda long. Poor Gally awh man. Just tryna be happy and protect other people

Nothing made sense to him—why he was so angry all the time, irritated by the most minuscule of things and thrown emotionally overboard every time he tried to sleep. Gally wondered if he'd ever feel normal. Though, he also questioned if normal was a thing a person could feel because ever since showing up here three years ago, it certainly wasn't something he'd ever experienced.

Gally walked in the shadow of his peers. He followed in their footsteps, seemingly a mile behind, always calling out to them but nobody ever heard him.

Walking in that empty space between the other Gladers and himself was Y/N. The one person here Gally had fallen in love with at a distance without saying anything. In complete silence, he'd fallen for the kind, selfless and mischievous glader. She herself had reached out and said more hellos to Gally than he'd been brave enough to wave across the Glade back at her. The few conversations they exchanged were short, awkward and blunt. That didn't stop her from always being caring toward him, though. Somedays, she'd bring him water. Others, she'd spend her evening staining the wood he never finished during the day.

Sure, she did these sorts of things for lots of other people. But she was the only one who did those sorts of things for him. The only one here who treated him like he was human.

Maybe, he was completely swept off in his own imagination. He had hopes and dreams that were more than likely beyond unrealistic. What else though, was he supposed to do with these feelings? He was trapped in a stone box with no memory of his former life or hope for a future. Escaping into his imagination and having one single positive part of his day, or person, to think of made life bearable.

Said life though, had gotten a lot worse the past few weeks.

Gally's biggest current regret was not having gone to find Y/N that day she had called out for him. He'd been a coward and hid in the deadheads from her instead of going to find out what it was she wanted him for. Staying in those woods landed him in a far worse situation than he could have ever imagined.

That day, instead of going after Y/N, he hid in the woods with some paper and a pencil. He hid amongst the trees and found his peace in the silence and cold from the fading sun. Of all things to keep his mind off of its own ongoing war, he drew Y/N. Simple drawings, pictures such as the girl with a soft smile crossing her features. Or, her helping Newt in the gardens.

Harmless sketches of this girl who he hardly spoke to on the daily but the thought of her held off that heaviness on his heart. Everyday, the impossibly strong grasp someone or something had on his heart which tried to bend him over forward into to the dirt got stronger. But the few hours of peace he'd spend alone drawing were the moments he felt as if that force dragging him down took a slight break.

That night, Gally was shaken to reality by the sound of boys whispering and trampling over leaves and twigs. They were close. Too close. In a panic, Gally tossed the papers on the ground and kicked as much dirt and debris over them as he could. His efforts probably weren't enough and he knew it.

"Gally!" One of the guys gibed. "We were wondering why you weren't a dinner!"

The builder raised his brows and took a breath. "Don't kid yourselves, you didn't even notice I was gone."

The boy and his fellow slicers snickered.

"Well, he's not wrong." Another added.

Gally rolled his eyes and went to walk away. These slicers had always been out to cause trouble and they weren't worth his time. He wanted out before something boiled up.

"Woah man," The loudest, most aggravating of the boys called out to Gally. "What's this?"

He plucked the papers out of the dirt with stringy fingers and held them up in the dim light. A disturbing smile smeared the moment he recognized the face on the paper. Then, he looked up to Gally and the builder knew he was done for. That heavy weight in his chest completely went away and was replaced by a sickness in his stomach.

Sauntering toward him, Gally felt like he stood in place for hours. His heart was trying to escape.

"Now Gally, I want you to be honest." The boy smirked and flipped the paper around so Gally could see. "Are you an artist and none of us knew? Or is this something you stole from someone else because, y'know, you needed it for something?"

His friends laughed. "Or, maybe both?" He eyed Gally up and down.

The gaze burned at his skin. It was painful. His lungs were creaming and heart was sobbing.

"Fine, I draw. That's it." Gally snapped, his voice breaking. "Now forget about it."

"Oh!" The slicer howled. "You think we're just gonna let you off? What do you think, should we tell her? Show everyone your little secret? How do you think Alby will feel?"

"I don't—"

Stepping closer, the slicer held up the paper right to Gally's face and pointed to Y/N. "I bet she'll be scared as hell of you now."

Gally closed his eyes. He never wanted this to happen. All he wanted was a break for his soul. And sure, drawing someone without their permission wasn't the best way to go about dealing with his problems, but it was all he knew.

"Don't tell anyone." Gally pleaded. "I'll do anything."

"Anything?" The guy questioned, surprised. That was a bold move, even coming from Gally. "There's a lot I would ask, but I don't want trouble with Alby..."

He thought for a while. He conversed with his friends. Ultimately, he decided.

"Alright," He shoved the paper against Gally's chest. Immediately, he put it in his pocket. "I want to see how long it takes to break the toughest looking guy here. Every night, you're going to meet us here. We're going to beat you to the ground."

Gally took what he was saying as fact. As part of his life now. It was his only way out.

Stepping closer, the slicer picked up a large stick and swung it back and forth. "Don't worry, we won't leave bruises on your face. Only where they can't see."

"...Don't say anything, and we won't say anything either." He looked to Gally questioningly.

"Deal." He quavered.

Gally braced himself for the first hit.

That began three weeks ago.

He thought about what had happened that night as he lay on the burning cold ground. It burned because his skin felt like it was on fire from all of the hits it had taken. It felt cold because the ground quite literally was cold, seeing as he'd been here all night and dawn had just broken.

His body couldn't be brought to its feet this morning. He'd been getting beaten up for three weeks straight. But, he had to keep to his word and not let anyone know. They couldn't know. It would destroy how everyone here perceived him and his reputation. The reputation that made everyone else keep their distance was something he wanted to keep.

"Oh shit!" A quiet voice snapped as the faint footsteps Gally was hearing came to an immediate halt.

The fear of a body laying unmoving the woods at dawn apparently wasn't enough to stop this person though, because they came rushing to his side. He knew who it was the moment they crashed to their knees right in front of his eyes and put their hands on his face.

"Gally! Are you okay? What's going on?" She shuddered as she felt his forehead for signs of illness.

Unable to speak or move, Gally was just able to lift his arm enough to gently point to his side. His eyes were glued shut from the agony of moving his arm and all he hoped was that she caught on. If anyone were to find him like this, he wasn't exactly enthused it was Y/N, but he needed help and he knew it.

Carefully, the girl lifted his shirt to find a black and blue bruised body. There were wounds new and old still seeping blood. His breaths were shallow, so it was evident he had broken ribs.

"Oh shuck. Don't move. I'll be right back." She sprinted off fasted then he'd ever seen her run. That said a lot because she was fast.

Between the time she'd run off and now, Gally had passed out, probably for the better, and been moved to the medjacks. He'd just woken, but chose to keep his eyes closed for a while longer. He wasn't yet ready to face the world again.

"This doesn't look like it happened just last night. These wounds are layered, some of them a couple weeks old at least." Jeff muttered to Alby.

Alby ran a hand over his head. "Could he have been hurting himself?"

"No," Jeff shook his head. "These couldn't be self inflicted. Someone did it. Someone has been hurting him for a long time."

"Let me know when he wakes up." Alby demanded. "I'm going to find Newt."

Knowing he'd left, Gally slowly opened his eyes. The sun was evidently now fully risen as the medjack hut was well lit and warm. He blinked a few times and the headache crushing his skull was so overbearing he could hear himself blink.

When he turned his head to the side slightly, he was met with a wide-eyed, speechless Y/N. "You're o—"

Y/N's face suddenly fell. "Who did this?"

Her expression changed extremely quick. It went from relief to vexation in a split second.

Gally didn't want to answer that to her. What he could do though, was reach down for that crumpled paper he'd kept with him since the first night. He agonizingly grabbed it and held it up for the girl to take. That one single move required all of the energy he had inside of himself and was more painful than he'd hoped.

At this point, he didn't care anymore. He'd been trying to keep it a secret and was afraid that if Y/N found out how he spent his free time, she'd be disgusted and afraid of him. Besides, he tried to tell himself, that if he really knew the real Y/N, there was no way she'd judge him for this. Y/N wasn't that kind of person.

The girl took it gingerly and unravelled it. A small smile, one Gally knew all too well, lightened her features as she scanned over the paper. "Gally, you're amazing."

The next she looked up, Gally's eyes were already shut and his breathing had steadied. He'd fallen back asleep. For now, she had to let him rest. When he woke though, Y/N was going to be a part of finding out who had done this to him.

Alby and Newt fell into the medjack hut just a little too late. Newt sighed in agony when he saw his friend.

"Did he tell you anything?" Alby asked, putting a hand on Gally's bed.

"No," Y/N shook her head. "He gave me this though. It might have something to do with it."

Newt took the paper and smiled. "Who would've guessed he was such a good drawer." He then passed it off to Alby.

"I think I know who did it." Alby grimaced at the paper. "A few weeks ago, I heard some of the slicers talking about some 'stupid drawings' and then they mentioned Gally over dinner."

Vexed, Alby gave Newt back the paper and turned on his heel as fast as he could.

"Woah!" Newt called out. "You're not going to accuse some boys of a bloody mess like this before we hear it from Gally first. We wait here until he wakes up."

With a deep breath, Newt continued. "He's safe here until then."

Hours had passed before Gally found himself waking again. The medjack hut had begun to cool off and Gally felt the hair on his arms raise from the chill running down his spine. He wanted to get up, move and finally get some food. No injury or illness in the world could stave off Gally's hollow leg.

Slowly, the boy raised himself to a sitting position. He felt lighter despite the fact his body was close to disintegrating. Curious, he lifted his shirt to see the massacre that had been committed on his body. It was just as bad as he'd guessed. The past few weeks, he'd refused to look at it but now was the time. The sight made him sick but the moment he let his shirt down, he forgot about it.

Taking a few deep breaths, Gally prepped himself to stand. He was going to get up and out of this cramped room and face whatever it was outside of that door. Luckily for him, he wouldn't have to do it alone.

Just as he swept his legs over the edge of the bed, a pair of soft eyes peered around the corner into the room Gally was in.

"Hi." She whispered.

Gally smiled sadly. "Hi, Y/N."

"I thought you might be getting cold," She said as she stepped into the room with one of Gally's hoodies. "And thought you might be starving, so I came to ask if you wanted to have dinner with me?"

She paused. "I mean, come get dinner. With all of us. The normal. I don't know what I'm saying."

"That sounds good to me," He tried to laugh but stopped himself from the ache in his ribs. "I'd like to have dinner with you for once."

Y/N smiled awkwardly and handed Gally his hoodie. And though he tried, there was no way Gally was getting it onto his body. In sympathy, Y/N finally reached out and took the pile of fabric back. She reoriented it and then put it over his head and guiding it over his shoulders. By that point, he was able to get his arms in the sleeves and stand himself up.

Slowly, Y/N helped him out of the medjack hut. The air hit him in the face with a startling force. This was the time of day he'd normally head off to the deadheads to meet his nightmare. Y/N noticed him tense.

"You okay?" She asked.

Gally looked down to the girl and blinked a few times. "Yeah."

Y/N locked her arm with his to help hold his balance. "You don't have to worry, alright? There's a bunch of people looking out for you right now."

Gally walked alongside Y/N at a deathly slow pace. Partly because it really did hurt that much to walk and because he wanted to make this moment last as long as possible. "What did Alby do? How much does everyone know?"

"He hasn't done anything yet, me and Newt made sure of that." Y/N explained to dampen his worries. "No one else knows. Alby told them all you came down with a nasty bug. We're going to make sure this stays between the few of us and that's it."

"Thank you, really." Gally said. "It almost feels like you guys know me. Know I wouldn't want the others to find out."

Y/N stopped walking for a moment and made Gally look at her. "It's because we do know you. You're our friend, Gally. And we respect how you feel."

"You think I'm your friend?" He questioned self-consciously.

"Are you crazy?" Y/N scoffed. "Of course. It sucks we don't spend more time together."

"Well, I had a reason for the past few weeks." He admitted. Y/N nodded in agreement with that. "But maybe we can change that now? Once all of this blows over."

Y/N smiled lightly and Gally took that as a yes. He still had a lot to worry about as this whole situation got sorted out. Now though, he realized that he did have people on his side. People he could trust.

#the maze runner #the maze runner imagines #the maze runner imagine #the maze runner x reader #tmr gally #gally the maze runner #gally tmr #the maze runner gally #gally imagine

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so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed · 4 years

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My Fics in review

I was tagged by the lovely @jacaranda-bloom and the absolute darling @lightwoodsmagic, thank you both so much!

FANDOMS: One Direction, Zayn Malik, technically Shawn Mendes once because he was Niall’s soulmate in one fic

TROPES: Soulmates, Fluff and Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fantasy, Strangers to Lovers, Angst with a happy ending, those are probably my main ones

NUMBER OF FICS: 32 (11 Larry, 21 Ziam)

FIC I SPENT THE MOST TIME ON: there’s no fair in farewell, it took me well over a year to write

FIC I SPENT THE LEAST TIME ON: we’re not who we used to be, I was sad one afternoon and decided to write angsty fic

LONGEST FIC: there’s no fair in farewell, at 218.664 words

SHORTEST FIC: then he just leaned forward and kissed me at 1129 words

MOST HITS/KUDOS/COMMENT THREADS/BOOKMARKS: (I decided to split these up in Ziam and Larry because all my most hits etc are Ziam fics from way back when)

ZIAM: Hits: a game that I’m destined to lose 44072 hits Kudos: a game that I’m destined to lose 1323 kudos Comment thread: midnight doesn’t last forever 238 comment threads Bookmarks: midnight doesn’t last forever 398 bookmarks

LARRY Hits: there’s no fair in farewell 12184 hits Kudos: you’ve set my soul to dreaming 607 kudos Comment thread: there’s no fair in farewell 82 comment threads Bookmarks: there’s no fair in farewell 299 bookmarks

TOTAL WORD COUNT: 526.369

FAVORITE FIC I WROTE: Honestly, it will always be there’s no fair in farewell because I worked on that fic for a year and it gave me the confidence to write all the fics I’ve written since. A close second is some things fade (some never do) because I wrote that in little more than a month and it proved to me that I can write fast if I need to.

FIC YOU WANT TO REWRITE/EXPAND ON: I have some timestamps that I might do for TNFIF someday.

SHARE A BIT OF A WIP OR A STORY IDEA YOU’RE PLANNING ON: So I’ll do a Ziam snippet and a Larry one!

ZIAM:

this is from my ace Liam WIP which is currently at just over 2500 words and that I’ll revisit when I’m not writing for fests:

Liam is practically vibrating next to him, and Zayn turns his attention to Liam with a smile, his hand briefly coming to rest on a strong thigh, though he removes it before he gets the impulse to slide it upwards. Liam is - he’s pretty much spot on Zayn’s type. Strong, a body that Zayn would never achieve even if he spent the majority of his life in the gym (and that’s okay, he’d much rather be held by a body like that than possess it), but so incredibly sweet. Caring, and funny, and a little bit of a dork - really, Zayn’s never stood a chance.

But while Liam cared about him, it had never been like that, and Zayn had been happy to be his best friend, because it meant he still got these little parts of him that no one else did. He got Liam’s joy when he scored the ad campaign, his nerves when he was about to go in for his first shoot, the euphoria after when they’d been pleased with how it had gone. He treasures them, these little secret bits of Liam, thinks about them sometimes when all he wants to do is be closer. “You nervous, babe?” He asks him now, and Liam’s eyes aren’t fully panicked but they’re also not that usual mellow warm brown. He bounces his knee and Zayn rests his hand on it again, feels it tremble under his touch before it calms down. He leaves it there this time.

LARRY:

this is from the “Louis sees when people are about to die” AU which is also around 2500 words and which I’ll also probably write eventually.

Sometimes people fade over time, so slowly that it’s hard to see at first. Like, maybe it’s just the sun, that’s hitting them in a particular way. Or maybe he needs glasses, or to get away from his computer for a while. Sometimes it’s been days, or weeks, before the truth hits him. Days or weeks in which an illness has crept up, altering tissue, sometimes irreversibly.

And sometimes it’s like a head on collision. It’s waking up and everything’s fine and then going outside and everything’s not.

It’s like that with Jax. One moment everything’s fine, they’re on their way back to Louis’ dorm room after seeing a movie, talking about their upcoming Christmas break and Louis’ birthday, and the next, Jax is barely visible. It goes so fast that Louis is breathless before he has even fully processed the image in front of him.

I absolutely loved doing this! I’ll tag @hogwartzlou, @crinkle-eyed-boo @lululawrence @londonfoginacup @disgruntledkittenface @allwaswell16 and anyone else who wants to do this!

#my fics in review #fics #my writing

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evak-fic-rec-turtleanon · 4 years

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Evak Fics - Coffee Shop

** Coffee shop comic ** Additional ice cream/cake fics ** Fics where there's no coffee shop but it involves coffee lol ** Coffee shop fics ** Bonus Nooreva fic

***** COMIC *****

KB au comic by @elli-skam

P01, P02, P03, P04, P05, P06 P07, P08, P09, P10, P11, P12 extra art

Instagram: elli_skam

***** ICE CREAM/CAKE *****

ice cream at 2am by hippopotamus (1.1k words) - isak goes to the shop for ice cream and ends up getting something else as well

Ice Cream Parlor by glbertblythes (1.5k words) - AU where Even works at an ice cream parlor as a summer job and Isak really likes the ice cream and he and Even play a game where Even tries to guess Isak's favorite flavor of ice cream but every time he gets it wrong, he gives Isak the ice cream for free.

You’ll never believe how ice cream helped this man to get a date by nofeartina (3.3k words) - 5 times Isak buys ice cream for Magnus and 1 time Even buys it for Isak.

blow out all the candles by shadesofcool (4.1k words) - It's Eskild's birthday, Even works at a cake shop and Isak doesn't know how to make tea.

***** INVOLVING COFFEE *****

Morning Person by dani (wormstash) (881 words) - Isak is not a morning person.

Right Now by YellowSpatula (1.1k words) - In another universe, they meet on the street and smell of coffee.

Morning Activities by glbertblythes (1.4k words) - Even wants his coffee - Isak is sorta in his way - but Isak makes an offer.

"Ah, Sorry, Sorry!" by bazsucks (1.5k words) - "So rude, because someone hasn’t gotten his grumpy boy coffee today." Even keeps speaking whenever Isak doesn’t. He loves that about him. He loves everything about him.

Med Student Syndrome by frenc (1.8k words) - In which slightly paranoid med student Isak tries not to diagnose his boyfriend with diseases he learned in the textbook. And Even fails to hide a coffee burn from him.

The Study Buddy by wordsarelifealways (2k words) - In this universe, Even meets Isak when he pours Red Bull into a black coffee at 7.15AM to cope with a morning class. Even's inner barista is horrified, but damn if the boy isn't cute.

***** COFFEE SHOP *****

Bees by spoopydumpling (562 words) - "Even come home" "Miss me?" "Hell no, there’s a BEE in our BEDROOM"

blood on the leaves by queerness (597 words) - In which Isak's hands are weapons, Even's nose bleeds too easy, and Green Tea Créme Fraps are present.

in every universe by queerness (632 words) - The first time your soulmate touches you, a handprint stays there for the rest of your life.

Feeling Weird, Feeling Happy by wesoftandfluffy (735 words) - A boy with blues eyes, blonde hair and a very nice smile makes Isak feel shy, weird and very very happy

Maybe I´m a little jealous by parttimehuman (743 words) - Just Isak not being jealous at all.

i think i recognise your face but i've never seen you before by monsterandmana (914 words) - Even works in a coffee shop. Isak is on the coffee run. It's Christmas.

sweet creature by Skamtrash (1k words) - Along the lines of "We’re both baristas and sometimes I have trouble reaching for things and I show up to work one day to find a personalized stool with hearts and my name on it i hATE YOU but also thanks"

remember what your old pal said by colazitron (1k words) - Mikael hangs out at KB during Even's shift. Not evak centric

seventeen days by hippopotamus (1.1k words) - Isak had come to know him, in his head, as coffee shop guy. Sometimes, when he was tired, and had no filter on the thoughts as they travelled from the back of his mind to the front - he would call him hot coffee shop guy. Sometimes even fucking beautiful.

Flat White and a Moment of Bravery by Bellakitse (1.1k words) - Isak is having a crap morning until he walks into his local cafe and sees his favorite barista.

I Like You A Latte by i_once_wrote_a_dream (1.2k words) - It’s not love. Not yet. But Even’s certain it will be.

Handsome Mystery Boy by waitineedaname (1.3k words) - Even thought working at a coffee shop would be the perfect way to meet his soulmate. They had to give him their name for the order, and his name was there for everyone to see on his nametag. It was a flawless plan. Or, it would be if the handsome boy in the snapback would actually give him his real name.

Good days start with coffee and you by starfishunicorntea (1.3k words) - Isak is tired, ill and cold but he has an exam he has to get to so he decides a cup of coffee can make his day more bearable.

Forget-me-not by FrkAnn (1.5k words) - Even is curious about the name Lea on Isak's parent's house door and Isak decides it's time to share.

I HEARD YOUR NAME by cromulent (1.6k words) - Break up fic. i thought i needed you, but then you left me and i realized i don't.

Woo Me With Your Words by obscurial (1.6k words) - It’s not very often that Isak finds the confidence within himself to approach a handsome guy in a café. (A coffee shop au in which Even is Isak's favourite author.)

I Think I'm Falling (I Think I'm Falling For You) by MacksDramaticShenanigans (1.7k words) - Isak isn’t sure if it’s this guy’s incredibly endearing face or the fact that he didn’t just order a fucking Pumpkin Spice Latte, but he suddenly really really wants to kiss him.

Defending My Honour by wordsarelifealways (1.7k words) - Isak's sure it's about a thousand degrees in Oslo, but it won't be as hot as the hellfire he's going to rain down upon the customer he sees yelling at Even.

I'm FALLing for you by Schedazzle (1.7k words) - It always crept up on Even, one moment everything was green and the next the whole world seemed yellow and cozy and just so nice. This feeling only grew when the little bell above the door went off and his favorite customer came in.

your hands next to mine by hippopotamus (1.8k words) - When he takes the drink, his fingers brush Even’s. He clears his throat and mumbles out a “oh, uh, sorry, thanks,” and escapes before Even can even process any of it.

The one where Even isn't a stalker... by Ye_Olde_Hedgehog (2k words) - There is a sad lack of coffee in this coffee shop au. Instead there is a bit of mutual pining and some very exasperated friends.

Ready For Those Flashing Lights by ultimatelawrence (2.1k words) - It was meant to be harmless: taking a sneak photo of a hot stranger to send to Eva. Expect it's not so harmless when the flash is on.

Lemon and Ginger: Coffee Shop AU by fictitious99 (2.1k words) - 4 times Even bought a pretentious herbal tea and one time he bought one for Isak.

Mitten found by Kollakolan (2.1k words) - It’s a mitten. And not just any mitten, this is clearly a hand made very personal mitten with a small flowery pattern knitted by some one who put a lot of love into the work. On top of the mitten “Emil” is embroidered. Shit.

Peppermint Mocha by Jules1398 (2.1k words) - Eva's new boyfriend comes in everyday and orders a peppermint mocha and, well, Isak is definitely NOT falling in love with him.

The Hot Muffin Thief by Bellakitse (2.2k words) - There is a magical muffin at the café where Isak's buddy Jonas works. It's Isak's lifeline, he has it every day and then one day some hot art hipster steals his muffin.

do you like or like, like me? by cosetties (2.2k words) - Isak is totally down for supporting Jonas through the whole liking boys thing, but it's a little hard when that boy is Even.

The Stars Align by VenezuelanWriter (2.4k words) - There's a bakery. Prince Isak and barista Even.

sickeningly sweet like honey by thekardemomme (2.4k words) - Even likes to write pickup lines on Isak's cup.

cups of coffee by slvtherxn (2.8k words) - Even has a giant crush on a boy he doesn’t know, and he’s waiting for the perfect movie-moment to finally meet him. The only problem is that life has a different plan.

A Look Across (a fraction of) the Multiverse by rhys_withoutaspoon (2.9k words) - a look across the multiverse. The coffee shop au is the second one.

I'm not the kind of fool who's gonna sit and sing to you about stars by Plantsandplanets (3k words) - Second year is rough. Isak buys expensive text books with the money his dad sends him and silently worries about Even paying for everything before Even soothes his concerns with soft words and softer touches. His eyes tell Isak to stop worrying, please. Isak nods because Even asked him to even if he didn’t say so.

A Spoon Full of Sugar by MacksDramaticShenanigans (3.3k words) - A spoon. Spoons. Spooning. God, a proper cuddle sounded absolutely heavenly right now. What Isak would give to crawl into bed, burrow into some cozy blankets, and curl into someone’s (Even’s) arms. They could just lay there, maybe Even would trace shapes into Isak’s back, or maybe he’d play with his hair— it didn't matter to Isak, either sounded lovely. It would be warm and comfortable and he’d finally be able to catch up on all the sleep he’d missed.

Five (5) times Isak and Even found each other, in different universes. by AnonymousPoet (3.3k words) - Parallel universe. The coffee shop one is the first one.

Cookies and Cream by GayaIsANerd (3.5k words) - Isak has a crush on the barista. He's too scared to do anything about it, but luckily there's a blizzard coming up.

Baby, You're a Knockout by wordsarelifealways (3.5k words) - Even has been crushing on the cute boy who comes into the university cafe for weeks, but he never expected a minor head injury to be how their relationship got started.

If You're Under Him [You Ain't Getting Over Him] - Part I by givemesumaurgravy (3.7k words) - First fic of a SERIES. Isak Valtersen is happy. He's finally starting his surgical rotation at the hospital where he hopes to work someday and he's happily married to his best friend. But then Isak meets Even, the intriguing new barista where he gets his daily coffee. And that's when shit really starts to hit the fan. Affair au

And I'll find myself in your eyes one day by Evak2121 (Marshmallows07) (3.8k words) - Isak and Even fall in love one day in the Sun

Five Stars by bri_ness (3.9k words) - Even works at a café and is infamous in Yelp reviews as a flirtatious, charming barista. But he’s never wanted to take anyone home—until he meets a man with thirty-eight expressions, an affinity for eye rolls, and a deep hatred of pumpkin spice.

I like my sugar with coffee and cream by imminentinertia (4k words) - 5 times Even buys a coffee +1 time Isak buys a shirt.

For next day will a stranger bring by lovelycarcass (4k words) - On Tuesdays, without fail, Isak's first customer orders a drink at the café, gives a name and leaves. He never uses the same name twice.

Coffee and Krylon by gayashecklmao (4.1k words) - Caught in a daydream filled with technicolor and floating spray paint cans, he doesn't hear the bell above the shops' door ring, indicating that someone has come in. Only when he hears Eva shout an unidentifiable order at him does he turn around. There before him, on the other side of the counter, is possibly one of the prettiest people he’s ever seen.

you keep robbing my heart like a bank by xhorans (4.2k words) - 'How are you, Even?' 'Better now my new favourite customer is here,' in which Isak has a crush on hot barista Even and it's nearly valentine's day

i can't get it right by noirophelia (4.3k words) - “You forgot your sketchbook,” Isak says a bit out of breath and he doesn’t even know why. He has a feeling it’s just what Even usually does to him. Leaving him breathless. “Thank you, Isak,” Then Even smiles and Isak is just. Gone. “You shouldn’t have left your work place for that. Could have just messaged me or something.”

My mind was somewhere else, I guess by rosecolored_girl (4.6k words) - How did Even end up working at Nissen cafeteria? Let's just put it this way: He graduated last year at Bakka, took a gap year to pursue his dreams of traveling the world, realized he didn't have any money to even buy a freaking plane ticket to start with, spent the entire summer feeling sorry for himself...and now, he got a job at high school. Serving people only two or three years younger than him. Great. kinda coffee shop au except it's a cafeteria

from my lips my sin is purged by slvtherxn (4.8k words) - After Even's last relationship with his coworker ended quite messily, his boss has forbidden him from dating any more of her employees. It takes him ten seconds alone with his new trainee before he decides to date him in secret.

he tasted like coffee and lemon drops. by glbertblythes (5.7k words) - Isak gets stood up at Kaffebrenneriet, Even brings him a hot chocolate, and they get to talking.

Don't worry, I've got you by everything_else (5.7k words) - Isak groaned. “Just because I’m new doesn’t mean you can give me the shit jobs” “I’m not. It’s either that or bleaching the toilet, you can choose if you want.” “Okay fine.” Even took another drink of his beer, and cast a teasing look at Isak. “I give you a week.”

(Baby) It's Cold Outside by himmelsky (6.1k words) - December is approaching, but Isak isn’t feeling the Christmas spirit. Barista guy, aka Even, wants it differently.

because your eyes said you were feeling it too by spoopydumpling (6.1k words) - Even and Isak meet when their friends send them on a blind date.

In Sickness and In Health by Flatfootmonster (6.2k words) - That one time he caught me looking through the window, I thought I had to do it then—or I never would. I was sick of being tongue tied—I still am. And so, when I’d finished my coffee, I wrote on the cup: ‘I like you’. That was it. I wasn’t even sure if he was going to read it, but I saw him watch me write it; peering over the counter in the curious way he does, like I’m doing something completely amusing that I’m also entirely unaware of. Then I picked up my things and scrambled for the door, almost sending someone’s drink flying over their laptop.

Large Americano, Extra Milk and Sugar by daigina (6.5k words) - It's almost Valentine's Day. Mikael has a new job. Even has a new crush and no courage. This makes for lots of pining Evens, frustrated Mikaels, and spilled coffee.

five times even watched from afar and one time he didn't have to by alotofphandoms (7k words) - Even sees Isak around so many times that he's sure it's destiny and he's determined to not let him get away. So he watches from afar before he doesn't have to anymore.

all I see is you by littlemovie (Lejla) (7.4k words) - “Aren’t you gonna ask me why I’m a bad person?” Isak somehow whined and demanded at the same time. Jonas blew out a breath in amusement, which made the dark curls on his forehead move with his breath. “I’m guessing it has something to do with that guy, Even, from the coffeeshop?” Isak nodded his head pathetically.

closer to free by Skamtrash (7.7k words) - Even works at a coffee shop that Isak always studies in and Even has been crushing on him from afar for way too long so Elias makes them happen

Make a spark, break the dark, find a light with me by LostInAdmiration (8k words) - Isak can't sleep, so spends his nights wandering around the street. Even works the night shift at the store around the corner, and they bond over their mutual insomnia.

Cuddle Monsters by sikily (8.2k words) - One spoke of true love and the other a critic, But Christmas would be the day to believe in magic, A wink of his eye and a tilt of his head, And Isak became a believer instead.

Crying Over Spilt Milk by MacksDramaticShenanigans (8.4k words) - The boys get their hands on Isak’s resume; Isak gets his hands on Even.

baby we've got new love by itjustkindahappened (9.5k words) - Isak is hella fucking gay and desperately single, and Eskild wants to change that. Even just has a thing about timing. Coffee shop AU with an ironic amount of tea enthusiasm and a whole lot of pining.

Second helping's always better by diamondjacket (10k words) - A sequel. Coming into this last-minute coffee date, Even had honestly thought that once the sheen of the previous day had worn off, things would be different. That he could see Isak and keep a level head, that he wouldn’t be overcome with the urge to just...taste him everywhere. No such luck.

possibly (maybe) i’m falling for you by boxesofflowers, Eeyoreneedsahug, safficwriter (10k words) - Even tries to get Isak to smile with coffee. Every time he buys Isak coffee, he becomes more determined to find the perfect drink (and falls in love along the way).

The One Where Even Goes On a Blind Date by valtersheim (10k words) - Eskild forgets to find someone for Isak for their double blind date and he approaches the first attractive man he sees in Kaffebrenneriet.

Ground Me by Bellakitse (13k words) - In which despite his father helping with rent, Isak still needs money and therefore a job. Isak gets a job at a cafe and meets a barista who's beauty blows Isak away.

A Thin Line Between Hate and… Other Stuff by TheFilthWithin (Flatfootmonster) (14k words) - Isak is studying while working at a coffee shop. His life is Ok... ish. Filled with lies, mocchiato's, and hook ups, fate storms in and lends a hand in the shape of Mr Spielberg, AKA film director Even.

something in the language of trees by scarletbluebird (20k words) - This woman, Isak thinks, must really love her son. He keeps spinning the coffee cup for a good minute, mulling it over. He still feels weird about it, but it’s not like he’s signing a contract in blood or anything. And he’s already going to see Even at the party later in the week, so it could work. the one where Isak's job really is to Be Even's Friend

You're a different kind of new by LostInAdmiration (23k words) - Even has had a hopeless crush on Isak for months now, but has never been brave enough to talk to him. Luckily, Isak decides to make the first move by rescuing Even from unwanted attention at a party

take me as i am by argentae (24k words) - He isn’t crushing, and nevertheless this guy has become a Problem, because whenever he’s on shift he’s made it increasingly difficult for Isak to really spend his time productively. Sure, he could just find another place to study but he likes the access to coffee here even though he actually kind of hates the bitterness of it and he’s just not going to let himself get swept aside because of this guy.

don't you keep it all to yourself by colazitron (24k words) - Isak starts buying daily coffees before school at Kaffebrenneriet around the corner because it tastes better than the coffee in the cafeteria and keeps his hands warm. But mostly because the barista is heart-stoppingly cute. An AU in which Even didn't need to repeat his last year and instead started working at the coffeeshop Isak passes on his way to school every morning.

is it gravity, or are we falling in love? by mels (28k words) - Isak works at a coffee shop. There's two things he loves about the morning shift: 1, how beautiful the city is when it's sleeping and 2, avoiding the hot guy who he happens to have a crush on. Until one faithful day, he has no choice but to work with his crush.

Caught in the Middle by dvorahbee (30k words) - Even keeps seeing the cutest boy around campus and in his new favourite coffee shop. He'll slowly get to know Isak but he'll have to go on a journey of self-acceptance and love at the same time.

A Fucking Bet by Crazyheart (32k words) - Isak and Even are just friends. They make a bet and decide to fuck only five times and then go back to being friends again. Isak hopes that he might be able to fuck his crush out of his system, once and for all. Who knows what Even’s motives are.

Just your average ordinary everyday Superhero by vorfm95 (34k words) - Isak works for the governament fixing the chaos caused by the Yeti a young superhero who protects the streets of Oslo. It's just a superhero soulmate Au. (oof this fic tho)

Golden Boy by alotofphandoms (43k words) - Isak thinks his life is great until Even Bech Naesheim waltz in and starts taking him out on dates. (Mostly fluff and flirting but I live for angst so there's a little bit of that to keep it interesting)

Scrim by scritch (45k words) - Isak works as a lighting technician in a theatre. He's under strict instructions not to talk to the actors. This is all fine, until he meets Even.

such a beautiful mess by skambition (48k words) - Isak works at Kaffebrenneriet to save up some money for a trip with his friends. Normally, working there is chill. Until Isak starts to work together with Even, an arrogant hipster with horrible taste in music, that keeps using the phrase 'sex hair' and is not only judgemental and stupid, but also so hot that Isak sometimes can't breathe around him. Isak hates him. Until he doesn't.

What If? by MermaidsandMermen (SophiaSoames) (57k words) - What if Skam never happened? What if Even is just an awkward boy working in a coffee shop? What if Isak is just the loneliest boy in the world? What if Even is slightly obsessed with Isak? And what if Isak is spending every afternoon in a freaking coffee shop? Because he can OK? It’s not because he feels like at least he isn’t alone when he is there. Not that he actually talks to Even. Not that he thinks Even is the prettiest boy he has ever seen. It’s not like that. It’s not.

Lover Of My Impossible Soul by shoulderbone (lavenderforluck) (66k words) - Part 2 of Pointing at the Moon SERIES. Possible spoilers if you haven't read the first part: We don't often reveal ourselves, when we don't actually know what there is to reveal yet. Or, alternatively: Isak returns to Oslo, and most importantly, to Even.

with love, from anonymous by cosetties, iriswests (136k words) - Isak just wants to get his coffee in peace, Even has a crush, and there's a secret admirer on the loose.

***** BONUS NOOREVA

untitled by princevaltersen (15k words) - Eva knew she had a crush on Noora and she couldn’t refuse it at all.

#evak fic rec #skam fic rec #coffee shop #comic #this was fun

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bluepluto03 · 4 years

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mcu spiderman rewrite/au i may or may not do

ok so first quick disclaimer! i do not hate the mcu spider man movies in any way!! i actually enjoy them quite a bit and have seen homecoming like 4 times! and i absolutely adore all the actors in the movies, especially tom, zendaya, and jacob

but the problem w/ the mcu spiderman movies is,,, they’re just not spiderman. at least from a writing/thematic perspective, which sucks bc so much other stuff about them is great! like tom holland is the perfect peter parker, which is why it seems so close to being right, but with the way the script is actually written... it’s just. not spider-man.

i feel the need to explain all this/my problems w/ the movies b4 i get into the actuall au idea/plot, so please bear with me for a sec

for context, I’ve loved spiderman my whole life. i’d watch the cartoons when i was younger, and then went back and watched them all again when i was a bit older and figured out how to pirate stuff lol. i didn’t really know how to get into the comics, so i just kinda read wikis and got second-hand info from fanfics and the other movies

to me, spiderman, (at least, peter parker spiderman,) was always about like... a kid, who saw the world was broken and fixed it because he could. he had the power to fix stuff, so he did.

as a kid w/ mental illness and a not so great home life... that was something really really important to me. to see another kid out there, who’s been through some shit, but finally has the power to make stuff better, so he is! and it would make me think, maybe i can change stuff for the better, someday, if i just get my chance

but,,,,, the problem is mcu peter parker isn’t that.

instead of becoming spiderman bc he knows there’s bad in the world and wants to fix it, suddenly his motivation is impressing tony stark?? and don’t get me wrong i don’t hate tony, but the way they wrote his and peter’s relationship basically trapped peter. he could no longer be his own hero, bc he was tony’s successor. and that's never who peter parker’s spiderman was?? he was never a follower, he was a trendsetter. he didn’t become spiderman for approval, hell he had dozens of newspapers constantly slandering him.

honestly the following in someone else’s footsteps thing was always a miles morales thing. he had to step up to the plate and fill the shoes of a spiderman who had already existed for years and was beloved by the whole city. obviously thats not all he is and simplifying his character to that is incredibly obtuse, but i bring it up bc tbh alot of stuff w/ mcu peter parker is just straight-up ripped off from miles morales. like how peter now goes to a fancy private school, is no longer poor (which is a huge thing w/ peter parker’s character in like every other incarnation), has a living father figure, and is bffs w/ ned, who is a straight-up rip off of miles’s best friend ganke. (for the record tho i adore ned and jacob i’m def keeping him in my rewrite,,,, also i’m glad he’s in the movie bc having a plus sized poc protagonist thats not constantly mocked is incredible)

so, i’m complaining about all this stuff lol but ur probably wondering how exactly how i wanna fix it lol,,,,

first, give peter an arc thats more than just..... i want tony to believe in me. my idea for that is basically a type of thing where he learns to rely on others! bc like... peter isn’t good at working w/ others lol, he’d much rather do it all himself so no one else gets hurt. (like in the andrew garfield movies where he just,,,, webs his gf to a car so she can’t run into danger lmao)

the plot would start at a similar ish position to homecoming, though tony never recruits peter for civil war. tbh not sure if it even happened but we’ll disscuss that later

peter’s been spiderman for a few months, after a trip to oscorp left him w/ a radioactive spider bite. currently no one knows about it, and he’s doing a pretty ok job of dealing w/ everything on his own. until he takes down a big bad, lets say rhino for now, and gains a ton of publicity. after stooping a hudge disaster he’s suddenly in the limelight, and catches the attention of one norman osborn, aka the green goblin

now, quick sidenote. green goblin is genreally seen as pretty goofy, but there are comic versions of him that are legit terrifying. if im being honest i didn’t even know about that version until i read aloneintherains fic birds eating other birds so ig thats kinda ish how i’m imagining this version of norman? though alot more composed, like the man who could someday turn into that

so norman becomes intrested in my boy peter, and starts sending ppl after him. possibly the sinister 6, but uhh maybe not bc tbh i think this “rewrite” needs to be split into 2 “movies”/works and i might wanna save that for the hypothetical pt2 (btw if i write this it won’t b for a while cause i got other stuff going on but ig if ppl are intrested i might write some snippits/make more content for it)

so basically the main plot is peter dealing w/ all these big bads on his own, doing ok at first but later getting really fucked up, and eventually revealing himself to ned and mj which ends up being the only way he can save the day in the end. by relying on others! yay!!

thats it for the main plot, but don’t worry y’all we got other stuff going on too lmao

so, for one. my boy peter is realizing he has a crush and just,,,, freaking tf out. (i have yet to decide if it’s on ned or mj. or both. sue me) the crush isn’t definitely resolved in p1, but i imagine there’d be some cute thing of him suddenly realizing and freaking out and almost revealing his powers.

thing 2! tony stark! he is still in here, and still a mentor to peter, but in a pretty drastically different way. one, he doesn't know about peter being spiderman. he doesn't even suspect it lmao. he just gets involved bc of.... some sort of reason bc peter is so smart. do i know why just yet? no. does it matter? probably but i’m writing this pretty late after i had school all day so i’m too tired to care

bc tony basically gives peter a real internship/mentorship type thing, peter now has access to all this tech!! and all these funds!! fucking lit!! so he changes from his pajama suit to the fancy one, tho he actually built it!! which i feel like him making his suit is a really big really important part of his character. so it doesn't really have all those random things tony added, tho peter might add stuff himself. he gets Karan as a like assistant ai as part of his internship but she never gets put into the suit

for the fist part tony plays a super minor role but like,,,, the first part is about osborn taking an intrest in him, and him confiding in ned and mj. the second part norman is become progressively more dangorus and peter has to fight him and stuff, kinda proving he is strong enough to be spiderman/be trusted to the whole world, beyond just ned and mj. also him actually getting together w/ either one or both of them bc...... bc i want that.

oh btw idk if tony finds out or not in p2? if he does it’s either at the end or in a scene like the one w/ may bc like. please imagine the shenanigans of peter and ned (who both have high intellegence but low wisdom) in tony’s lab, obviously trying to hide the fact that peter’s spiderman. like he walks in on them and peter looks all frumpy bc he’s been trying to change real fast, and ned’s shirt is messed up bc he just stuffed the mask down the front of it, and mj is just. chilling behing them. so tony just like assumes stuff and is like....aight.... have fun....

oh btw the last big change that i didn’t really have anyway to insert natrually into this,,,, so remember how i said ned was kinda a ripoff of ganke? well, the writers claim he’s a “composite character” so i figured, why not give him traits from other famous spiderman side character so he actually is a composite character!

so like,,,, throughout p1 it’s referenced that ned has a kinda dickish estranged ish dad that he hates and his mom doesn't really like but kinda forces him too... theres some mentions of his dad wanting him to transfer to a private school and being kinda rich, bur he dosen’t want to bc he knows his dad is a total dickead,,,, anyway end of the movie we find out norman osborn is ned’s dad, and ned hates him even fucking more bc it’s like bitch?? u tried to get my (maybe) bf murdered?? tf?? and its lowkey bc he can’t reveal peter’s id, but then in p2 after norman takes matters into his own hands and tries to kill peter on his own ned just fucking yells at him while the man is in jail and is like fuck u lmao

soooo thats my really messy au idea!! i’m really tired sorry if this is hard to understand or rude! for the record i have nothing against the ppl who adore these movie’s, i just think they could be better!

#spiderman #spider man homecoming #spiderman homecoming #peter parker #tony stark #michelle jones #ned leeds #parkerleeds #spideychelle #peter x mj x ned #marvel #pls rb i worked p hard on this #my post #my writing #norman osborn #green goblin #mcu spiderman

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azaraspirit · 5 years

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Daughter of Thor Ch1

I posted this ages ago but i decided to work on it again and this time i will be posting chapters as part of my friends, @worldoftom‘s word challenge where i pick a word and must use said word with a minimum of 750 words to celebrate her 750 milestone follower count! I do have a couple more chapters for this fic but i dont really like them very much so ill most likely re-write them or do some major editing!

summary: Hannah is a daughter of Thor and makes a new friend

my word for the challenge: dangerous. word count: 2300

tagging some friends/mutuals. sorry if i forgot someone lol: @worldoftom @petersboyfriendsonofthor @foreverstuckwritingandimagining @aossi @keepingupwiththeparkers @starksparker @tomslovey @spidey-starks @softspideyboy @spiderboytotherescue @underoos-tom @heyhihellowhatsup0 @osterfield-holland-andcompany @woyaogaoxing @mcuspidey @aussie-holland @tomhollandspideys @hazmyheart @hazssouthernbelle @blissfulparker

***

Thor felt love for his wife Jane and his friends but nothing compared to the little bundle of joy that he held in his arms. When Jane first told him she was pregnant, he was absolutely thrilled and now their daughter was finally here. She was perfect. Absolutely perfect. She took after Thor with his eyes and curly blonde hair but had her mother’s nose, lips and chin.

Fresh tears trickled down Thor’s cheeks as he admired his new daughter that was wrapped in a blanket.

“So beautiful.” Thor praised. His infant daughter grabbed one of his fingers, making him smile.

“You’re never going to give her back are you?” Jane asked as she saw how in love Thor was with their child.

“Never.”

Jane rolled her eyes. “May I remind you that I did all the work?”

“Okay, you can name her but that’s the best I can do.” Thor teased.

“I always liked the name Hannah.”

Thor smiled down at his daughter. “Hannah, daughter of Thor. I like the sound of that.”

***

“What do you think you’re doing?” Thor chuckled as he watched his little girl attempt to climb onto the throne.

She grunted, pushing herself up but to no avail. “Trying to sit on my throne.” she pouted.

“Your throne?” Thor questioned.

“Well someday it will be.”

Thor laughed, picking up his little toddler in his arms. “Yes, one day, little one. You are destined for greatness and someday you shall be the queen of Asgard. But for now, you’re my little princess.” He gently kissed her cheek.

“Dad! Not in front of Uncle Loki!”

He looked up to see his brother approaching them. “Don’t worry, I didn’t see anything.” He smirked, holding his palms up.

Hannah wiggled out of her father’s arms to run after her uncle. She hugged his legs before he picked her up and wrapped her arms around his neck. “How about we do some training today little one?” Loki asked.

“Okay.” Hannah smirked as she held up one of his daggers.

“You little sneak!”

They both laughed.

Thor stared at them. “You teaching my daughter to pickpocket?!”

Loki shrugged, trying to look innocent. “Figured I should teach her what I know.”

“She’s only five! Too young for daggers!”

Hannah rolled her eyes. “Told you he’d get mad when he found out.”

“Well you’re the one who picked in front of him.”

“You taught me.”

“Touche.”

“I don’t like my daughter playing with weapons. It’s dangerous.” Thor said sternly.

“Brother, hear me out….”

“Okay, I’m waiting.” Thor crossed his arms.

Loki cleared his throat but no words came out. Thor raised a brow.

“Never thought you’d let me get this far.” Loki admitted.

“Dad, he’s teaching me to defend myself.” Hannah spoke.

“Yes, what she said.” Loki agreed, nodding.

“Hannah darling, you’re only five.” Thor defended. “What do you need to defend yourself from?”

She rolled her eyes again. “I’m a highly sophisticated five year old.”

“She’s not wrong.” Loki shrugged.

Thor sighed, seeing he was outnumbered. Looks like his daughter inherited her mother’s stubbornness. “Tell me you’re being careful.”

She nodded. “Haven’t even scratched myself yet, Father.”

“You should see her in action. She’s a feisty one!” Loki smiled at her proudly.

Thor sighed again. “I’d rather not.”

“So can we train Uncle Loki? Please?” Hannah batted her eyes and there was no way Loki could say no.

“Course. That is if your father is okay with it.”

They both looked up at Thor. “Pout your lips, he can’t resist when I do it.” she whispered to him.

Loki pouted his lower lip making Thor chuckle. “Alright. Just be careful. I mean it.”

“Thanks Daddy! I promise!”

***

That evening Hannah was in her bedroom with her mother Jane who was braiding her hair as she told of her adventures with Uncle Loki.

“Knives huh?” Jane asked.

She nodded. “You should have seen me, Mom! Uncle Loki said I was really good for my age!”

“Uncle Loki.” Jane sighed, still not his biggest fan. “I don’t like the idea of you playing with sharp objects honey.”

“Daddy said the same thing but he let me.”

Jane sighed again, padding her shoulders. “All done, sweetie.” They looked in her mirror, Hannah admiring her new French braid. “I love it, Mommy! Thank you!” She stood up to hug her and kiss her cheek, making Jane laugh.

“You’re welcome, sweetie.”

“You’re not gonna let me stop training with Uncle Loki are you?” She pouted. “We have a lot of fun.”

“You’re guilt tripping me aren’t you?” Jane asked.

“Maybe.” Hannah looked away innocently.

“Well I guess you should know how to protect yourself.” she said.

“Thank you, Mommy.” Hannah kissed her cheek again.

“This is my dagger.” She grabbed her weapon from her dresser and showed it to her. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“Also dangerous.” said Jane, holding it in her hand. It was rather stunning. A black hilt decorated with green jewels. Swirls were carved in the blade.

“Uncle Loki gave it to me.” Hannah smiled proudly.

“The things he teaches you.” she sighed.

“You teach me things too, Mommy.”

“Like what?” she smiled.

“Well I know how to be nice and kind to everyone and you just taught me how to French Braid. Uncle Loki is teaching me self defense. Father teaches me about strength, loyal and honor.”

Jane smiled down at her, proud of what the woman her daughter was growing into. “We just want you to be safe is all.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“I know, Mommy. Like I told, Daddy, haven’t even scratched myself yet.”

Jane stroked her cheek fondly and kissed her temple. “It’s getting late, honey, let’s go to bed.”

“Okay, Mommy.”

***

Jane walked in the empty corridor, her daughter now asleep for the night. She had a few words to say to her Uncle Loki.

She knocked on his door and he answered. “Fancy seeing you here, Lady Jane.”

Jane rolled her eyes at the nickname. “I want to talk.”

Loki stepped aside to let her in. “I know we’re family now but that doesn’t mean I have forgotten about what you did in New York.”

This time Loki rolled his eyes. “Heaven's sake that was a lifetime ago.”

“Still, it happened.”

Loki didn’t respond.

“But I’m gonna put up with you because I see how much my daughter loves you. She admires you and she spent twenty minutes excitingly telling me about your training.” Her voice was laced with venom at the last word. “I don’t think it’s exactly appropriate giving five year olds sharp objects.”

Loki forced a dry laugh. “Thor said that to me as well and I understand but I also think you two underestimate her. She is more capable than you know. I am training her so she can be great.”

Jane sighed. “She can be great doing other things than fighting.”

“I’m not teaching her to fight. I’m teaching her self defense. There is a difference.”

Jane narrowed her eyes at him. “Whatever you call it, I want her to be safe. Train her better, train her harder. Train her to where she can defeat even you.”

An uncomfortable silence settled between the two adults. “I will, I promise.” Loki swore. “I care about her more than you know as if she were my own. I would never do anything to put her in harm's way. I would never make her do anything I wouldn’t think she was capable of.”

Jane stared at him, surprised by how genuine he sounded. He was telling the truth. “Just keep her safe.”

“Yes, Lady Jane. You have my word.”

Jane smirked. “Enough with this Lady Jane crap. It’s weird.”

Loki bowed making her roll her eyes. “I’m going to bed, goodnight.”

****

Thor never liked the idea of his daughter playing with weapons but he found himself watching from nearby as she and Loki train in the throne room. He cheered when she sent Loki to the floor, a knife at his neck. He had to admit she was rather good.

Loki chuckled. “Better. Much better.”

Hannah smirked. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t have actually stabbed you.”

“Thanks.”

She offered her hand and he took it but he pulled her into a headlock, forcing her to her knee with his foot.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to let your guard down?”

She grunted. “Damn it.”

He let go and flipped his dagger. “Letting your guard down can have deadly consequences. Never forget that.” He let her go and she cursed to herself. “Think that’s enough training for today.” It’s been years since his encounter with Jane but he has never forgotten the promise he made to her to making Hannah better than him in training.

Hannah scolded herself as she left the throne room, catching her dad in the hall. “Hey, Dad. What are you doing in here?”

Thor was caught off guard. “What? Oh, I was just uh, inspecting these columns.” He patted the one next to him. “Yup. Still sturdy.”

Hannah saw right through his lie. “You were watching me and Uncle Loki weren’t you?”

“No.” he scoffed, avoiding eye contact, crossing his arms.

“You’re so full of it.” she smirked as she and him went down the hall.

“You are pretty good, by the way.” Thor spoke, his arm around her.

“Thanks, Dad.”

She was twelve now and has become a rather excellent fighter but Uncle Loki still wasn’t entirely please. He was hard on her. All she wanted to do was please him but nothing seemed good enough.

She and her father stood out on the balcony, overlooking Asgard in all its glory. It was beautiful and she never got tired of it.

“Dad?”

“Yes, love?”

“When can I visit Earth? Mom is from there and you told me of all your adventures you had. Seems only fair I can come too.”

Thor sighed. “I thought about it. But I was going to wait till your older. Earth is...strange...dangerous. Here in Asgard, you’re safe.”

“But being safe all the time is boring.” Hannah complained. “I know how to defend myself. You saw. Please, Dad I really want to go.”

“Okay, let’s make a deal.” Thor said, Hannah hanging on his every word. “You can come along with me when you can defeat Loki in training.”

She scoffed. “That's not fair.”

“Never said it had to be fair. Or you can wait till you’re sixteen. Whichever comes first.”

Hannah groaned. “Fifteen?”

“Fine.” Like she would ever beat her Uncle.

Her father rested a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, love.”

He gently kissed her on her head before leaving.

Hannah sighed. She stood there for what felt like hours, watching the sky change. She rested her forearms on the balcony, looking down and something caught her eye. She noticed a young boy, her age maybe a little older. Three other bigger boys were surrounding him. He looked uncomfortable, almost intimidated like he was prey and the boys were a pack of wolves coming in for the kill.

Hannah almost ignored them but then she saw them shove the cornered boy to the ground. Anger boiled inside of her. If there was one thing she hated, it was bullies.

“What are you gonna do about it, blind boy?” the middle boy mocked. “Gonna go cry to your parents? Oh right. They’re dead.”

“Don’t you know? Blind boys can’t cry.”

“Good one.” The boys bumped fists.

The cornered boy felt utterly helpless as he was backed against the wall. One of them raised their fists but before he could punch him, Hannah suddenly dropped down between them, grabbing hold of his fist.

“Whoa, what the fuck? Where did you come from?” They jumped back, startled.

“Asgard.” Hannah answered, flatly.

“Move out the way, this isn’t your business.”

“Dude, that’s Thor’s daughter.” one of the bullies realized.

“So? I’m not afraid of her.”

Hannah looked back at the boy behind her. “You okay?” she whispered.

He nodded.

The lead bully took advantage and swung at her but she grabbed his arm, surprising him. “Bitch, please.” she scoffed, rolling her eyes. She twisted his arm behind his back and stepped behind his knee, forcing him to the ground. He cried out in pain.

“Hurt this boy again and I’ll break your wrists? Got it?”

They nodded and she let go, shoving him with her foot. They scrambled away like cowards with tails under their legs. She had to admit it felt good finally using some of the techniques her uncle has taught her.

She turned to face him. “It’s okay, I won’t hurt you. What’s your name? I’m Hannah.”

“Zander.”

“Hey, Zander. Why were they teasing you?”

“I’m blind.”

“Oh.”

“Thanks for saving me. You didn’t have to.”

“I know.” She smiled. He smiled back, sensing he was no longer in any danger. The boy looked so helpless. She had to do something. He had messy black hair and freckles dusted across his cheeks and nose. His lashes were a mile long. His eyes were a milky white but they almost glowed. He was rather skinny and wore ragged clothes.

“I was just about to go home and have dinner. Care to join?” She paused. “Maybe after a bath?”

“W-why are you being nice to me?” His voice was frail and it broke her heart.

“Because being mean doesn’t help anybody. C’mon.” She offered him her hand again and he hesitated. She was the only person he knew that showed him any kindness. Her hand felt soft and smooth as his fingers curled around her own. That moment he swore his loyalty to her. She saved his life and one day he swore to save hers.

#all-about-tom #my fics #daughter of thor fic #b750challenge

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bts-love-sweat-tears · 6 years

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Chrysalis (Follower Celebration Fic #2)

Title: Chrysalis

Pairing: Yoongi x reader, feat. Jinyoung

Type: pure, unadulterated angst (though interpret the ending as you will 😉 ) , tattoo artists!au

Word Count: 1,597

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, emotional abuse, controlling relationship/marriage (not Yoongo, guys, who do you take me for? )

A/N: For anon- Yoongi angst. I don’t write much angst so I hope it lives up to your expectations. I debated typing “suga-coat” so you can thank me in advance for stopping myself. I just finished watching A Prayer Before Dawn and the intense tattoos featured in that movie got me thinking. I was also thinking a lot earlier of the ill-fated love of Tristan & Isolde. Does anyone else remember the movie adaptation?

There’s not a lot of dialogue in this, but it’s basically a long flashback while the person is getting their tattoo. <3

I’ve seen some amazing BTS tattoo edits-do yourself a favor and search that!

You bit down on your lip, trying to stop yourself from crying out. Yoongi’s hand was steady at your side, and irrationally, you didn’t want him of all people, to judge you. This was the first real thing you were doing for yourself, and you weren’t going to ruin the badass, empowered mood you were in with tears. As the only child of one of the country’s leading politicians, you always had to be prim and proper. Even your marriage was arranged…though not publicly, of course. To the public, you and Jinyoung were madly in love, one of the few high school sweethearts to beat the odds. The reality was that every single touch was choreographed, and the total lack of spontaneity left little room for real affection to flourish.

Your life was completely constrained by your parents’ agenda, so getting a tattoo was the first real thing you were doing for yourself. Since you would need to hide it, it was going on your ribcage, under where your arm rested, usually protected by multiple layers of clothes. By the time Jinyoung ever, saw it, it would be far too late for him to do anything about it. But right now, Jinyoung was the furthest thing from your mind. Instead, the smooth, steady movements of the tattoo artist helped to cut the physical and emotional pain, reminding you that this was worth it.

As much as this entire world was a mystery to you, so was Yoongi. At first, his full sleeves and gruff demeanor scared you off, but part of you liked his no-nonsense approach to social interactions. So many people tried to charm you, hoping to curry favor with your parents, that having someone who didn’t sugar-coat anything made you trust him all the more. Since the first day you had ventured in, tentative and out of place, he had made you feel seen. And not as an extension of anyone else, just as a person with their own autonomy. He was quiet, too, and you were always at peace when you were with him, the constant anxiety buzzing in your head muted.

The tattoo you were doing was self designed, a butterfly emerging from a chrysalis. Many tattoo artists would have rolled their eyes at the cliché design, but he listened to you and made something completely unique. As the design evolved, so did your intentions. You had come in hoping to spite your parents, but by the final time the final consultation rolled around, you had come to view it as something positive, for yourself. Maybe you were being superstitious, but seeing the butterfly that graced the back of his own hand had seemed like a good omen when you made that first appointment.

During these consultations, Yoongi had slowly opened up, even smiling slightly during the last visit. You had his number saved in your phone from the various meetings, and he had even sent you a preliminary design that he’d been working on late one night when inspiration hit. You wondered if he were so diligent with all of his clients, but before you could reply, Jinyoung had placed his hand over your own, effectively stopping you. You’d been out on one of your mandated monthly dinner dates (all very public- the paparazzi were there well before the two of you even arrived), and while he didn’t confront you directly, you could sense the disapproval radiating off of him. He wanted all of your attention. You knew he would be livid when he found out, so you turned over your phone and turned on your charm.

Recently, his irritation had been growing as Yoongi took up more and more of your headspace. So far, you were fairly certain that Jinyoung didn’t know where you’d been slipping off to every free moment. You still had some secrets after all, and if he cared enough to ask, you would tell him that you were off at some charity lunch or gala, depending on the time of day. But so far, he couldn’t even be bothered to ask. You couldn’t decide if his indifference irritated you or worked in your favor. Your infatuation with the gruff tattoo artist had only been growing stronger, and you found it harder and harder to stay away. It had started innocently enough, with you bringing coffee to the second consultation after noticing the dark circles marring Yoongi’s otherwise gorgeous face. Who were you kidding? Even with the circles you thought he was perfect, but you smitten.The gummy smile you got in return had left you high for days.

The “really-bad-sunburn-feeling” brought you back to the present. College friends had mentioned their own experience as painful, but surprisingly you weren’t in that much pain. You felt it, sure, but maybe it was the trust you had in the man at your side. The pain was subsiding, and you felt something ghost gently over your skin. You craned your neck, to see Yoongi’s lips at your ribcage-and then they were gone. He gently wiped the spot again to clean it. He was nothing if not professional. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder, helping you to sit up, as your own arms were occupied with holding the blanket for modesty. You were sure your face was bright red, but you didn’t find it threatening or unpleasant at all. Yoongi looked concerned, misinterpreting. He left, returning quickly with a small cup of water. He didn’t talk much, but instead sat across from you, hands in your own.

After some time, you got up, and Yoongi bandaged you up, ever gentle. Your parents would gasp at the impropriety of his hands so close to your bare chest, but you felt more comfortable with him than anyone else. He had kissed you-you hadn’t imagined it, no matter how fleeting. But the next appointment would soon be here, so you quickly put on the flowy shirt you had chosen specifically for today’s outfit, wincing as your movements pulled at the skin.

Moments later, when you stepped outside into the late afternoon sun, a familiar figure was leaning too casually against a car far too shiny for this neighborhood. Jinyoung had found you. Maybe someday, you would blossom into someone stronger, but until then, both you and Yoongi would have to wait.

The last few years had been rough. One of your parents had passed away tragically while traveling, and the other had retired from public life, too waylaid by the disaster to continue. Sensing little to gain from your family name, and after three years of a farcical marriage, Jinyoung had divorced you. The tumult had left you bruised, but you had made it through. Sometimes you thought of yourself as the butterfly adorning your ribs-how painful it must have been, thinking that it was dying a caterpillar, only to emerge more beautiful and free than it had ever been. Jinyoung had ruled your marriage with an iron-fist, and though he had never hurt you physically, he had certainly clipped your emotional wings, using the threat of shutting down “your friend’s little establishment” should you not comply with his whim du jour. So it had actually been a relief when he had decided it was over for the both of you. One of your first decisions post-divorce was to go back to the shop, but when you returned to the tidy storefront, accumulated dust and neglect told you that it had been closed for awhile. You knew it had been irrational to hope that he would still be there, waiting, tattooing as he always had, but the naive part of you had felt such a connection that it felt impossible that the two of you wouldn’t find each other. Maybe he had left the city completely, or gone to travel the world. You’d noticed the guide books on his shelves, but when you asked him about them, he’d dismissed them as paperback dreams. You had tried calling, texting, and social media stalking, though it was like he had fallen off the face of the earth. Even when you knew him, though, his quiet dedication didn’t lend well to social media use. The business account you found had been inactive for quite awhile. But the old tattoos he had posted gave you an idea.

Your parents’ former detractors would have likely smeared your name, telling the embellished story of a fall from grace: a former golden child becoming a tattoo artist. But remembering the freedom you felt when choosing to decorate your body as you saw fit was a feeling you wanted to share with others. They may think you were fallen, but really you were rising.

So you did apprenticeships, building your portfolio and working under other well-known artists in your city. The community was relatively small, but you never did find Yoongi. Maybe he had left the city entirely. You mourned his loss,

Finally, years later, you were opening up your own parlour, hoping to make it a place where everyone could feel safe baring their skins, and sometimes their souls. You had given up on ever finding Yoongi, the man who had given you a tiny set of wings when everyone else had been grounding you. With every tattoo you had done up until this point, you remembered him, and thanked him. It was opening day at your parlour, and the chime at the door alerted you to your first customer, and you felt your wings grow a little stronger.

#bts scenarios #bts angst #yoongi x reader #tattoo artist au #yoongi x you #jinyoung #bts with tattoos #follower milestone fic

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eleanor-writes-stuff · 6 years

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maybe i’m a crook (for stealing your heart away) [ficlet]

Eight months after Crait, these are the facts:

1. The Resistance needs money - a lot of it, and soon. 2. The Force Bond is still alive, and things are heating up. 3. As ruler of the First Order, the Supreme Leader is one of the richest men in the galaxy.

OR: the one where Rey makes Ben pay for something she was gonna do anyway.

If you want some post-TLJ Reylo (featuring survivor!Rey, conflicted!Ben, and post-coital cuddles), this is the fic(let) for you. It also turned out oddly sappy towards the end, if that’s your cup of tea.

UPDATE: now available on AO3.

“I’ve never–” Rey whispers into the darkness, her eyes intent on Ben’s as her hand halts his path downwards. “I’ve never done this before.”

Ben stills, gasps softly, and Rey feels a tendril of victory curl low in her stomach.

“It means something to you, doesn’t it?” she murmurs, watching the way his Adam’s apple bobs nervously even as he looms above her. Her fingers lace with his and their joined hands are warm on her exposed skin, and for just a moment she hesitates to go through with it, this insane plan of hers.

But she thinks of their starving troops, of the soldiers they’re losing to perfectly curable illnesses, and her resolve returns.

She brings her free hand up to card through Ben’s hair. “It means something to you that you’re the first, that no one else has ever touched me like this.”

Ben drops his head to her shoulder, burrows into the curve of her neck. “Stars, Rey–” he groans, lips warm on her skin.

Rey lunges forward, rolls them over and straddles a dazed Ben into the thin sleeping pallet of her quarters, the plush mattress of his. It’s dizzying, the way their surroundings shift from his to hers to his again in the blink of an eye, so she keeps her gaze firmly on him, solid and present and unchanging.

“If it means something,” she recites from memory, from a lesson she learned on Jakku a lifetime ago, “then it’s worth something.”

Confusion pierces through the cloudy haze in Ben’s eyes. “Rey, what–”

She allows her lips to curve into a smirk as her eyes flash with a challenge, and Ben tenses as she leans forward to pin his hands in place on either side of his head. “What’s more important to you, Ben? Letting the Resistance starve to death, or being the only one to ever have me?”

Only, not first. She realizes her slip-up the second she speaks, but thankfully he doesn’t seem to catch on. Confusion slowly gives way to understanding, to conflict, and she watches his throat work as he tries to form a sentence.

“Rey,” he says slowly, hesitantly. “Are you…”

Something in her breaks at the sound of his wavering voice, at the sight of the little furrow between his brows as the situation dawns on him. But there’s no going back now.

“You have until tomorrow night to decide,” she tells him, and then she slams the bond shut and collapses onto her cot as the solid weight of him disappears from underneath her.

Rey lies awake all night, sleepless with equal measures of anticipation and regret.

“Bet you the First Order never has to worry about food,” Poe mutters over lunch one day, his forehead creased in concern as his eyes sweep the rest of the mess to find everyone splitting decades-old rations that will barely sate their hunger. “Can you imagine how much money those bastards probably have?”

“A lot,” Finn tells them, his eyes gazing into the distance, into memories he usually does his best not to think of. “A whole kriffing lot.”

Rose scowls. “So what? It’s blood money, all of it.”

Poe shrugs. “I’m just saying,” his voice is neutral, calm, everything his worried eyes aren’t, “blood money or not, it must be nice to send all of your troops to bed at night with a full stomach, to have the resources to patch up each and every wounded soldier.”

All four of them turn to the swinging doors of the mess, beyond which lies their makeshift med bay and two dying men they can’t save.

“Yeah,” Rose says faintly after a moment. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

They go back to their stale wartime rations, and the barest hint of a plan begins to take root in the back of Rey’s mind.

(Three days later she asks the General how much the Resistance would need to get back on its feet, and is presented with a figure so inconceivable her mind crashes trying to process it. “A whole kriffing lot,” Finn had said. She hopes he’s right.)

After, with Ben’s arm slung around her waist and her cheek pressed against his heart, Rey feels her bones grow heavy with sorrow.

“I’m sorry, Ben,” she shifts in his arms to look up at him. “I’m sorry our first time had to be this way. I did what I had to do, but–”

Ben tugs at her and she follows willingly, allows him to pull her closer so that she’s fully on top of him with her hands folded over his chest and her chin tucked into the cradle of her arms.

“Just tell me one thing,” he says quietly, his eyes dark with emotions she can’t read, isn’t sure she’d want to even if she could. “If it had been anyone else – if someone kind and charming and good suddenly appeared and offered you double, triple… would you have done it?”

“No,” Rey tells him instantly, without a moment’s thought. She can’t even bear to think of it, won’t let him do so either. Her next words she picks more carefully, weighs the cost of her confession against potential future gain and decides to hell with all of that. “It was always going to be you. It’s only ever going to be you.”

Ben smiles at her, slow and soft. “Okay,” he murmurs, hands coming to rest on her lower back.

“Really?” Rey feels a matching smile tug at her lips. “We’re okay?”

“I don’t know about you,” he grins, all lighthearted and happy and Ben as his hands move to skim along her sides, his warm fingertips dancing up and down her ribs and waist and hips in a decidedly playful move, “but I’m more than okay.”

Rey allows an unfamiliar giggle to bubble past her lips. Tomorrow she’ll present the General with the credits, assure her they were gained through honest means and implore her not to ask more questions. Tomorrow the Resistance will get back to its feet and gear up for yet another fight against the First Order.

But for now she’ll allow herself tonight, allow her and Ben this one moment of peace before they’re forced to lock this memory away and focus on reality. And who knows – if the conflict in him ever turns to resolution, maybe she’ll be able to tell the General where the money really came from after all. Knowing that he helped them long before his defection might endear him to the Resistance when the time comes.

“What are you thinking about?” Ben asks, watching her with a lazy, fond smile as she rolls off of him and burrows into his side. He’s warm, and she’s comfortable, and her eyelids are starting to feel heavy.

“Us,” she tells him simply, pressing a kiss to his shoulder, “and our future.”

Ben holds her close and brushes his lips along her temple. “We’ll have one, Rey. I don’t know how, but I promise you we’ll have a future together someday.”

Rey sighs happily and allows her eyes to fall shut. “I know,” she whispers, her voice and his touch drifting further away as she gives in to the pull of sleep. “I’ve seen it.”

This turned out... weird. But let’s be real, it was weird from the start. A while back I had this idea about Rey realizing how whipped Kylo is and using that to get him to send food and bacta and all sorts of stuff to the Resistance, and Kylo would 100% see what was going on but he wouldn’t mind anyway because it makes her happy and screw the First Order, he kinda hates them now.

Then things got out of control and this tiny fic happened instead. It feels really OOC to me, which is saying something considering the fact that I usually write the most ridiculous modern AUs.

Anyway. I hope y’all enjoyed even a tiny part of this. And as usual, please don’t hesitate to like/reblog/comment if you liked it or have any thoughts you’d like to share. Thanks for reading!

#reylo #kylo ren x rey #kylo x rey #ben solo x rey #ben x rey #post tlj #star wars #rey #kylo ren #ben solo #ficlet: maybe i'm a crook #my fics #fic archive #series: ao3 reblog

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