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solverse · 8 months

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A carol for the souls. (ii)

Quo; Give a character a song. (SAGAU)

Characters; Bennett, Fischl, Razor & Kaeya.

Notes; I really like the three as best friends and Kaeya is there as the responsible adult. This isn't a character study whatsoever, just a little self-indulgent fic.

Dics; Again, the intro is unbearably long because I can't seem to write one-shots under 1k words.

| (i) |

Ribs - Lorde

Bennett was having an amazing day! Not only that his bad luck had subsided a little for today, most of the unfortunate situations were him almost tripping over himself but gladly, his team was there to watch his back. Today was also one of the days when he was chosen by the Guide to go on an adventure.

Ever since Bennett had become a 'chosen' one, he had the opportunity and pleasure to meet different kinds of people and see tons of new places. Since he was an adventurer since he could ever walk, Bennett knew Monstadt like the back of his hand.

But never would he think he'd get a chance to see other regions as well! Monstadt was his home, the place where he knew he could return to – that was the kind of beauty Monstadt was. But the other regions held such a different aura and magnificence that Benette couldn't explain in words alone.

And what made all of that better was that he got to go with his friends. With Razor and Fischl, on their own very (miscellaneous) adventures around Tevyat! Razor and Fischl were his best friends and some of the best people he had ever known. Traveling with them to see different places, exploring, and fighting different bosses was a dream come true.

Oh, there was also Kaeya! Brother Kaeya who had been appointed as the responsible adult of the group and Bennett appreciated that sentiment, knowing that someone like Kaeya was watching their back anytime, lest any of them get into a dangerous situation.

On a simple day, they were traveling through the forest of Sumeru, after heeding the safety clause that a Forest Ranger had given them. Apparently, the ranger was someone Kaeya knew. Bennett had watched in fascination as the new green-haired girl groaned in embarrassment when she recognized the Cavalry Captain. Kaeya has a good time teasing her.

It was when they arrived at the riverside that Bennett finally noticed the eerie silence starting to settle in. Kaeya was the first to notice, followed by Razor who seemed alarmed at the sudden change in atmosphere. It seemed that the occurring background music had disappeared.

Bennett had known of this phenomenon, Barbara had told him about the random time when the Guide would start playing bizarre music. It happened to some 'chosen' ones, while some might go on their days never hearing this bizarre music.

Despite his bad luck and all, Bennett firmly believed that he has good eyes when it comes to people. It's just that Bennett sometimes overlooked his judgment so he could be friendly. But judging by his friends' reaction, only Fischl seemed experienced in this situation.

Well, that was a given since out of all of them, Fischl was one of the original and earliest 'chosen' ones, other than the Traveler. She had the guidance of the Guide more than Bennett could wish for. But don't get him wrong! He's extremely happy that one of his best friends was favored by the Guide.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard an unfamiliar sound, building up in an echo. It sounded like it was directly next to him and yet all over him too. The sound was soothing in a way that Bennett couldn't explain.

The drink you spilt all over me,

"Lover's Spit" left on repeat,

My mom and dad let me stay home,

It drives you crazy getting old,

Bennett almost jumped when the voice started singing before he calmed down. He felt embarrassed at the moment and couldn't focus on the song until a few seconds later. It was why he didn't quite catch the first few lyrics.

We can talk it so good,

We can make it so divine,

We can talk it good,

How you wish it would be all the time,

Bennett frowned and crossed his arms, even though he was giving his utmost attention, he still couldn't decipher what the lyrics meant. The music sounded really nice, it made him tingle all over his body in a good way.

The drink you spilt all over me,

"Lover's Spit" left on repeat,

My mom and dad let me stay home,

It drives you crazy getting old,

The drink you spilt all over me,

"Lover's Spit" left on repeat,

My mom and dad let me stay home,

It drives you crazy getting old,

The song repeated the lyrics again, as if giving Bennett another chance to find a meaning behind those words. But when he took a glance at Fischl, something was caught in his throat. Bennett had never seen that look on Fischl, one that told of memories and reminiscence. Without even knowing it, Bennett didn't realize how it was so different.

This dream isn't feeling sweet,

We're reeling through the midnight streets,

And I've never felt more alone,

It feels so scary getting old,

In a way, Bennett could understand it a little. Since he was a kid, Bennett had always been the 'unlucky' or 'cursed' kid that everyone stayed away from. Because if you ever get near him, you will get hurt too.

And that hurt a lot. Even as a child, hearing those words come from people who you wanted to know about, who you want to get along with, hurt a lot more than he wanted it to. Even now, Bennett couldn't bring it to ask himself if things got better now, as days passed by.

We can talk it so good,

We can make it so divine,

We can talk it good,

How you wish it would be all the time,

Looking back at all the stuff he had experienced, Bennett likes to say that they had built him into the person he is. A passionate adventure with a penchant for bad luck. It wasn't all that bad. Bennett likes to think that he was lucky in parts that others won't look at.

After all, the Unlucky-Boy was able to meet two kids who were outcasted by what society deemed unorthodox. Looking back at it, Bennett will always be grateful that his path, his fate, had crossed with Fischl and Razor.

He doesn't care much for the things others say about him, no matter how much it pained him to hear so. But Fischl and Razor was the best thing that happened to him, that's why Bennett wouldn't let anyone else say otherwise. Because of them, he felt like the luckiest person in the world.

The days of adventure they went on for the past years stayed firm and locked deep within his heart. People like to talk, they like to say. Words are powerful. The words they spout can be such a tool that made Bennett feel useless in a broken shed.

But actions are also powerful. Razor was raised by wolves his whole life, his speech manner was slower and shorter than others. Fischl had a lot of vocabulary, she spoke in a tongue-twisted manner that made anyone's head spin.

But, but– despite all of that, their actions are all so powerful to Bennett. The hold, pats, hair brushing, or simple gestures were all so powerful.

This dream isn't feeling sweet, we're reeling through the midnight streets,

And I've never felt more alone, feels so scary getting old,

Throughout Bennett's life, he learned that words can and will hurt sometimes. But even with that– actions can speak louder than words. So Bennett learned to not listen. He learned to see, to observe.

Because if he listened, if he heard, it would hurt him.

And Bennett thinks that it's endearing, amazing that Fischl and Razor showed their love with such simple actions. And throughout their cages of ages, Bennett learned to appreciate those gestures more and more.

And to realize that Bennett had never noticed any of that back then, it baffled him. But in a way, those little things– showed him something. Something that ached and warmed his heart. Something that made his eyes sting from the wave of sentiments crashing into him.

This dream isn't feeling sweet, we're reeling through the midnight streets,

And I've never felt more alone, feels so scary getting old,

Bennett sees them and they see him. That's enough to make his heart twist in the sweetest way possible because now he knew. Along with all their time of adventures and exploring, Bennett finally saw it all.

When he locked eyes with Razor's and then Fischl, Bennett didn't hide the giddy smile on his face. Razor looked confused at most, eyebrows furrowed while Fischl only deadpanned at him. And it's during those moments, Bennett saw it again.

Razor's red eyes were darker and the slim gray of his hair had also turned darker through the years. It was longer than Bennett remembered, Razor's hair was by his waist now.

Fischl seemed taller, eyes shining with a glint that Bennett recently discovered after the Archipelago event. She stood steadier and a lot more confident, not afraid to break out of her character anymore.

I want 'em back, I want 'em back,

The minds we had, the minds we had,

How all the thoughts, how all the thoughts,

Moved 'round our heads, moved 'round our heads,

I want 'em back, I want 'em back,

The minds we had, the minds we had,

It's not enough to feel the lack,

I want 'em back, I want 'em back, I want 'em,

It made Bennett a little sad as he listened to the lyrics, something echoing deep inside him as those words were sung. Truly, through his whole life, Bennett wondered if he could even experience it all again.

It might have been a bit painful, a bit reckless. But Bennett still thought back to the moment his path had crossed with Razor and Fischl. To the day when the luckiest boy was born by two unknowing hands that held onto him through all the rocky rides and all.

Something he held back with all his strength, never letting go.

And beginning that, Bennett saw all those changes.

You're the only friend I need (you're the only friend I need),

Sharing beds like little kids (sharing beds like little kids),

And laughing 'til our ribs get tough (laughing 'til our ribs get tough),

Bennett's breath hitched at that. As his eyes roamed to see his friends, the music echoing next to him, Bennett could only stare.

To this day, Bennett held the memories close and kept them deep within his heart, where no one would be able to take them away from him. Memories that kept him alive in moments when everything had gotten blurry for him to get through.

But that will never be enough (but that will never be enough),

It won't. That won't ever be enough because Razor and Fischl meant the world to him. They were his world. Maybe, maybe it was selfish of him to think that way, to preserve these memories like a glass ball when changes were inevitable in their life.

Growing up from the children they were once. Bennett wondered if he was any different from then.

You're the only friend I need (you're the only friend I need),

Sharing beds like little kids (sharing beds like little kids),

And laughing 'til our ribs get tough (laughing 'til our ribs get tough),

But that will never be enough (but that will never be enough).

Maybe it's selfish of him to want to stay with that innocence, where their ribs would hurt so much from laughing. Maybe it's selfish of him to stay in that mirage where the old days held him with a warmth that he couldn't explain as a child.

But those won't be enough. It won't be enough for them. So Bennett thinks that maybe it was fine, perhaps it was okay for him to keep holding onto these memories because they built the person he was today.

With Razor's calloused yet firm hand on his shoulder, Fischl's comforting voice echoing and Kaeya's hand brushing his hair, Bennett will cherish all of these moments.

( He wondered if they knew. Maybe that's why some needed a little bit of guidance. )

–

#I CANT STOP WRITING OVER 1k PLS GOD #anyway #genshin impact sagau #genshin fanfic #sagau #genshin sagau #self aware genshin #bennett #fischl #razor #kaeya alberich #carol #songs #genshin impact

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facingthefossegrim · 1 year

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what’s going on?

I was reviewing the comic again a couple of nights ago (as one does), when I noticed that He Tian hadn’t changed his shirt & cardigan (blazer? jacket? coat... thing) in the past three days.

To recap the days, Evening 1 (aka chapter 405) was the showdown with She Li. He had to swap out his white shirt for a black one cause it was covered in Jian Yi’s blood, and after beating the shit out of She Li, he went back to Mo’s place, had the iconic first kiss (beautiful, perfect, everyone loved that), and stayed the night.

Cause he spent the night at Mo’s, ofc he didn’t have anything else to wear, and Mo prolly wouldn’t have had clothes that would fit him, so Day 2 (chapter 411+) was He Tian in the same outfit. Not the freshest, but eh, it’s a day; no biggie. It’s now Day 3 (chapter 419+), however, and He Tian is still in the same tops, just swapped out his pants for the school uniform ones. He probably had these on him (since that’s what he originally wore on Day 1); maybe carried them with him (likely) or had a spare pair in his locker (possible). (Or they were at He Cheng’s actually --figured it out as I was typing all this.)

At first the outfit got me wondering if he spent another night at Mo’s, but no, that’s not it. In chapter 419 we see He Tian texting Mo that he’d be late and to not wait for him.

That got me thinking that maybe He Tian didn’t go home, but stayed at He Cheng’s place (where else would he have been able to gather the ingredients for a Mo bento? And if the pants were at his brother’s, yeah, they’d have his clothes washed and ready for school, no prob.) What was he doing at He Cheng’s place? Finalizing the negotiations with his brother from chapter 405? He Cheng isn’t as cold as he seems; we know just how much he loves He Tian; he would do anything for him, so long as it didn’t blatantly conflict with their father’s wishes.

It wouldn’t have been surprising that that perfect Day 2 was one big beautiful good-bye. Waking up together, paying a visit to the dog house, introducing Mo to his mom; it all feels like He Tian is taking a stroll through the lives of those he’s loved and those who’ve left him; he’s preparing himself to part from Mo in turn.

The scene at the fish shop is cute and funny, but maybe it also echoes a certain sentiment; a wish that the hurt and lonely little black fish wouldn’t be alone anymore. A reminder for Mo (likely the one who’ll keep the fishes, since he was the one who got the first one and there’s only one tank) of He Tian.

I really don’t want this to be it, but I do think that this may be He Tian’s last day. It just feels like all this build-up is pointing to an abrupt climax. He’ll pierce Mo’s ear before he leaves, opening new wounds on his body and in his heart.

Translation credit: alexc1ting (19daysonly)

#19days #19 days #he tian #foss posts #19 days analysis

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athousandmorningss · 8 months

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Not that you asked.

Couldn't make myself board my train yesterday, and so delayed my arrival home until the middle of the week. I'm feeling a bit anxious about it, like I'm being too self-indulgent (and my wallet is echoing the same sentiment), but I'm tryna rationalize with a) I am teaching online classes RN, and have several more starting in a few weeks, and so am actively making money b) I was asked to teach a face to face course with the promise, that if I did, I'd be given as many online sections as I prefer and c) It's a long weekend, and I'd rather spend it in the city then on my way home. Today I'm ganna do a nice long wandering walk by the water, come back to the hotel and get a swim in, and be in bed by early evening to watch my Bravo shows :D.

I need a minute to parse my experience of being back home (or home adjacent, Idk where home is). I stayed with BF (J) for the first part of my trip. It was fun in a lot of different ways: we went to a butterfly museum and to the top of mt.sugaloaf, the beach, walkin, one night got high AF with the whole family and decided to watch Pee Wee's Big Adventures. The way J's mom said PeeWee; her husbands high giggling; the fact that we were all watching PeeWee made me laugh and laugh and laugh. They are weird people and I love that about them.

J and I got into it, though. At brunch, she pointed out a perceived trait of mine but articulated it in a very cruel way. It felt exactly like how Y used to make me feel: small and stupid. She apologized and admitted that she'd "channeled y" via her comment, and felt terrible. The disagreement encouraged us to communicate clearly about it, to listen and hear each other. I initially felt glad that we'd discussed it, but began to feel this pervasive sense that I was being watched, judged and evaluated for my behavior throughout. I felt uncomfortable. I also felt uncomfortable with the way J talks to her youngest sister. Again, it reminds me exactly how Y would talk to me. I'd argue that J is emotionally abusive to her sister, and it was uncomfortable to bear witness to.

Loving people is hard: J & I talk every day, we have a fun and supportive relationship, she has been beyond supportive about my divorce. She's done some interpersonal work that I'm really proud of, she's incredibly goofy and funny, etc. Yet being around her after the first two days became uncomfortable, and I'm not sure what to do or how to process those tensions.

Met another friend in the city, and this also felt uncomfortable to me. We were really close for many, many years but have started to drift. I just. I'll say this. I will not be a receptacle for anyone's envy or jealousy. I am not in competition with anyone.

I have a complex relationship to/with relationships and people in general. A part of me really pines to be in and with connection to others. Another part of me feels drained by the presence of others. I noted, while being in the presence of J and her family, how much people talk about each other (especially family members gossiping about other family members). I sometimes deeply miss having a family, but this dynamic reminded me that much of it often involves (again) being gossiped about or judged. Not having a family affords me a unique freedom: one that saddens me and liberates me at the same time.

Kate Bolick writes, in Spinster: Making a Life of One's Own, "I built, then, my own kingdom according to me own laws, and when the sun beat down, it beat down only on me, and when my feet acclimated to the freezing water, it was my resilience that made this so. My experience of being alone was total."

My Big Solo trip has felt a manifestation of the above: I am buoyed by my own curiosities; led by my singular adventuring: very much alone, both saddened and hopeful by being expelled beyond the containment of friendship, family, marriage and something bigger than myself.

#love ethics

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lady-draws · 1 year

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【Ｏｃｅａｎ　Ｂｕｒｓｔ】 | SasuIno

𝙎𝙮𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨 : Ino returns to her hometown after her father’s passing. She’s plagued by the memories of him, but most especially his love for surfing. To feel closer to him one more time, she turns to the mysterious boy who surfs all the time in front of her beach house, hoping he’ll teach her.

Word count: 3.3k+

Warnings: No warnings, angst, sfw

Part 1| Part 2

The piercing beep from the monitor beside the hospital bed speared into Ino’s head, her shaky blurry eyes shifted to the computer to confirm her suspicions, the green flatline on the black screen echoed in her skull. If her father’s limp cold hand in hers wasn’t enough to tell her that he was gone, then this was it.

This was really it.

Why…

…Why did someone so loving, caring and bright have to go out this way?

She jostled in her seat and held onto her bag tighter on instinct, her mother hadn’t always been the best driver, she usually left the driving to Dad. Ino clenched her fists and let out a shaky exhale, bringing her gaze to her mother driving, the brunette sharply wiped her nose and dabbed the corner of eyes before steadying both her hands on the wheel.

‘Mom, are you okay?’ Would’ve been such a stupid thing to say. She just lost her husband of twenty five years to cancer, of course she wasn’t okay and Ino knew that and for some reason she couldn’t find anything to say to console her.

The silence settled in and Ino directed her gaze to the crashing waves across from her, just below them reflecting the orange light from the setting sun in the horizon.

“Um…” Her mother began, her voice cracking, almost shattering Ino’s heart. “It’s really nice that you’re moving in with us— I mean, me. Your room is exactly how you left it, I didn’t touch anything… I’m sure you’d like the place. It may not be as big and bustling as the city but it’s pretty peaceful…”

“It’s okay mom…” Ino smiled, reaching over and resting her hand on her mom’s thigh. “Besides I needed to get away from all the loudness and city people, I’m sure I’d love staying with you.”

Her mother smiled a bit and flashed her a quick gaze, “You’re right… We can even look around, do some stuff together.”

“Yeah,” Ino returned the sentiments, squeezing her mother’s thigh, “We can definitely do that.”

The cool wind pushed Ino’s long blond locks as her mother made her way up the staircase to their beach house. Ino stared at the lights in the distance and the crashing waves behind her home, her skin prickled with goosebumps and strands of hair blocked her gaze.

“Wow… This place hasn’t aged a day.” Ino blinked at the appearance of her home, worn down a little by age, some of the paints chipped and faded, the wooden poles darker as the flower pots in front had some more texture.

“Ino! Come in! I have something to show you!” Called her mother.

The young woman turned on her heel, pulling her gaze from the mesmerizing waters to her mother standing at the door frame.

“Coming!”

Ino climbed up the sandy wooden staircase onto the front porch. She walked into her home and shut the door behind her, the little chimes on it ringing in her ears at the impact, she looked at the purple chimes and grinned.

“Hey! I remember these! Me and Dad made them.” Ino marveled and took the little metal pipes in her hand, feeling their smooth texture. “That time when I was a kid… his friend taught us how…”

“So you remember.” Came her mothers voice from another room and Ino rolled her eyes with a smirk.

“How could I ever forget. We sat on the porch all day trying to make it.” Ino replied and reluctantly pulled away from it. She took slow steps down the living room, admiring the photos on the wall.

Her parents' wedding pictures could be seen, a wonderful beach wedding with tropical flowers her mother grew, timeless expressions of joy on their faces as he kissed her cheek, her legs in the air, long white airy dress complimenting her flushed skin. Ino’s gaze rested on their happy faces prompting a weak smile.

She took slow steps forward admiring the photographs, her father sitting in the backyard hammock with his funny fisher hat, a little sleepy with baby her in his arms fast asleep. There was another with young her kissing his stubbled cheek, his long blond hair packed in twin messy ponytails and clips, he wore the most funny expression that managed to make her laugh. Ino continued walking and admiring the collage of photographs all on their wall, him in the ocean with her, their surfboards in hand, him sleeping on a reclining chair hugging her, she sitting on his shoulders and reaching for the camera.

And last but not least, she recreating a picture from when they were younger but it was her high school graduation, she kissed his cheek as he laughed, tears of joy in his eyes.

“Ino?”

The young woman froze and turned to see her mother standing at the kitchen counter staring at her. She didn’t notice it before but when the tears started falling from her eyes she couldn’t stop it, even if she tried.

“Ino.” Her mother ran towards her and embraced her, hugging her tightly, burying her daughter in her chest as if smoldering her will relieve all the pain and in a way it did. “It’ll be fine, it’s alright. It’s alright.”

Ino clicked her bedroom door open as her mother handed her the key, smiling softly at her daughter, caressing her cheek and admiring her face before pulling away.

“I made sure to clean up your room before you arrived, got you a vase of fresh flowers from the shop. I know how much you like sunflowers.” Her mother smiled and Ino returned the gesture.

“Thank you mom.” Ino walked into the room with her baggage, taking in the surreal nature of a room she once used to stay in before she left for college. A room that exuded nostalgia and of times she would remember and cringe.

It still had some elements of her tastes, like the murals of flowers and water on her walls, plus the shelf of many outdated magazines that was filled with celebrity gossip issues and fashion tips or the vanity her dad built when she started wearing make up, her little sewing machine in the corner.

“Really brings back memories.” Ino laughed, entering into the room and observing the place. She settled her stuff down and turned to her mom, wanting to come forward.

“No it’s okay.” Her mom halted her in her tracks, “You should rest while I go make dinner, go take a bath and when you’re ready come downstairs and have dinner.”

“But mom–“

“No it’s fine, I’ll be fine.” Her mom waved goodbye and quickly left, leaving Ino alone in her room. Ino stood for a while before sitting on the soft clean linen of her bed. She was already tired from a full day of moving, right now she had to focus on arranging her stuff and taking a much needed shower.

“Goodnight baby, see you later.” said her mother before they parted ways, Ino crashed onto her bed, resting on the fluffy dreamy bed that seemed to alleviate all the aches in her body.

She hugged her pillow and quickly browsed on her phone, texting her friends and thanking them for their condolences. She scrolled through her Instagram page and liked some photos before finally switching her phone off and going to sleep.

Soon, she opened her eyes and drowsily looked side to side, why was she awake now? It almost sounded like something was knocking on her window. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, swiftly checking her phone to see the time.

It was 5:15am.

The knock came again and she brought her gaze to her balcony, she gulped and reached for one of her high heels from her shoe rack, silently making her way towards the glass slide-in door. She pulled the door open and braced herself, ready to swing and scream for her life if it called for it, instead all that was there was a branch stuck to the glass, locked in a loop of hitting it because of the wind from the beach.

Ino rolled her eyes and sighed, breaking the old thing off and massaging her temples.

“It’s just a branch… why’d you have to wake me up now.” Ino tossed the thing aside and looked ahead at the shimmering waters before her, her ears filled with the crisp sounds of the blowing winds and crashing waves.

It was a pretty sight to say the least, she crossed her arms and rested on the wooden railing, admiring the ocean her dad loved so much. He used to take her surfing all the time, but Ino wasn’t sure she still remembered how to.

“Huh? What’s that?” Ino paused her pondering and squinted her eyes at the figure that was zipping across the ocean waves effortlessly. The blonde focused on what that figure could be but it was impossible, just as fast as it came it went.

Ino pulled back, her brows curved. “What was that?”

Suddenly, it came gliding back and slid onto the shores. She stood as still as possible, hoping the moonlight wouldn’t give her away, standing below her in the pure white sands of the beach was a person, but specifically a man. A young lithe man from the looks of it, holding a surfboard.

‘Who the hell surfs by this time?’ Ino thought to herself and squinted closer to see who it could be but she couldn’t see his face.

A sigh escaped his form as he stuck his long board into the sand and sat down, resting comfortably.

Ino blinked, taking a step further to get a closer look.

CRACK!

‘Shit!’ Ino winced to herself and looked down to see the branch she threw away earlier, there to exact vengeance and give away her presence.

“Mm?” Came his voice, calm but with an edge, sending her sliding back into her room quietly. Not wanting to be seen by a random stranger by this time.

Ino let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding and kept her back glued to the wall. To think she almost got caught, maybe going back to sleep or just mindlessly browsing on her phone was a better idea.

“Hey Ino? Are you heading to the beach?”

“Yeah! Gonna look around!” Ino yelled from below the stairs, walking to the gathering at the beach ahead.

“Okay have fun! Don’t forget to call me when you need help.” Added her mother from the window, resting against the frame and staring at her daughter growing smaller in the distance.

“Okay! No need to worry so much! Not a kid anymore!” Ino waved before disappearing past some stone walls making her mother sigh.

Ino walked around the shops and kiosks, passed the little stands with peoples paintings on display for sale. She greeted and waved at the familiar faces, friends of her dad and people her mother socialized with.

“Ey Ino!” Came a boisterous voice, dragging her name in excitement. Before she could see who it was, she was embraced in a tight hug, swinging her about like she was nothing.

“Aaagh!—uncle Choza!?” Ino widened her eyes at the man wearing a tropical yellow shirt, his red hair, messy and long as usual. He quickly dropped her down and rubbed her shoulder.

“It’s so good to see you back here! To think you’d come here and live with your mother!”

“It’s so hot and you’re all sweaty!” Ino cried, shrugging off her body from the feeling of him, “…and you got it all over me! Social distancing!”

“Huh? Guess I forgot all about that.” Choza rubbed the back of his head as the young woman in front of him wiped herself with a tissue from his kiosk.

“… And it’s good to see you too, yeah I had to return. It would be quite lonely if mom stayed at home just by herself…” Ino looked at the brawny man rubbing his chin, contemplating her words.

“Wouldn’t you be lonely too?”

“What do you mean?”

“…Hmmm, anyways since you’re back, come later in the evening for some good barbecue! We’re having pork and seafood.” Choza snapped his fingers and grinned at her, “…If only Choji and Shikamaru were here, well it’s not a vacation so there’s really no point for them to be here.”

“…Thank you uncle, I’ll be there.” She smiled, her mind filling with the familiar faces of her two childhood best friends, not to mention her dad’s favorite food was pork. “…Yeah…”

Just as Choza was about to leave Ino caught his attention.

“Uncle!” She called.

“Yeah?”

“Is the surfers hut still open?”

“Why yes.” Choza gave a nod and pointed to the shops in the distance, “…Are you interested in riding a big wave?”

“No.” Ino swiftly countered, her cheeks flushed and brows crossed. “You know I haven’t surfed in forever, I don’t think I still know how.”

Choza raised his brows, hands on his wide hips, “I don’t think it’s that easy to forget something you did all the time when you were a kid.”

“Well, only kid Ino would know.” Ino shrugged and left, passing through the paths between and in front of the shops.

Ino stood feet planted in the white sand and stared at the blue crashing waves, the wind caressed her locks as she remained seated on the ground, a place far from where people were. A heavy sigh left her lips, her back pressed against the bark of the coconut tree and she couldn’t help but sink further into the ground.

The chills from the breeze blowing seeped into her bones making her shiver a bit.

“I hate this.” Ino dug her nails into her palm and mumbled to herself. “…I hate it.”

She pulled her knees closer and embraced herself tighter, maybe it’ll make everything feel a little bit better.

Ino mindlessly stared at the ocean waves, in a couple of days he’d be cremated and his ashes would be brought home, just the way he said he wanted it to be. Ino wiped her eyes and sniffled, this was really it, wasn’t it?

It wasn’t a dream she could just wake up from. He was never going to come back and there was nothing she could do about it

“I hate this.”

She aggressively wiped her tears with the heel of her palm and rested her forehead on her knees, embracing herself closer but the pain in her heart remained the same.

Ino wasn’t aware of how much time passed as she sat on the sand, staring thoughtlessly at the horizon of the ocean and the kites in the distance. If she could sink like a stone she probably would, but she wasn’t and all she could do was stay afloat in a place she wanted nothing to do with.

She sat up, body stiffening at the sight right before her.

“D-Dad?” Ino gasped, staring at the lithe figure gliding across the waves in such a familiar way, all those moves and tricks, the balance. It was all her dad’s.

Ino rose to her feet and followed the figure with her gaze, she didn’t realize when her feet started moving, getting her closer to the person. Following across the shore, chasing to keep up with the pace of her dad.

“Dad!” Ino screamed, her feet digging into the sand, running, running as fast as she could.

She swung her arms with each stride, racing to nowhere, chasing a person she could never reach no matter how hard she ran.

“Come back!”

Ino halted in her steps, almost tumbling over her feet.

“…Come back.” She cracked and covered her face, sobbing into it. “…Please don’t leave me.”

Ino fell to her knees into the shore, splashing the waters around on her descent.

“Please! Please I can’t.” Ino hiccuped, staring into the distance, eyes wide as she caught herself from saying another word, the sudden realization of what she just did. Ino knelt in the waters, silent like an abandoned mansion on a hill, the crashing of the waves and the wind blowing into her ears was all she could register.

She tried to get up but she couldn’t, she knelt, stuck in the ground, unable to tear her gaze away from the darkened horizon.

“Hey, get up.” A voice came from behind her, “…The tides are rising, it’s not safe to still be in the waters.”

Ino looked back to see a lithe figure standing with a dark blue surfboard, his eyes were black and he was pale. Ino stared at him trying to formulate words, to pretend she was alright and lie but she couldn’t bring herself to say anything.

He raised his brows and stared at her, his silence deafening as he tore his gaze away and looked at the dark clouds in the distance. He turned on his feet after some idle contemplation and Ino watched, her mind snapping into reality, she got up from the salty waters and made her way back home, oddly enough they were heading in the same direction.

The black haired man flashed her look and swiftly asked, “Why are you following me.”

“I’m not following you.” Ino clenched her fists, trying to regain her spunk after her mini breakdown from moments ago. She shook her head and walked faster, getting ahead of him so he wouldn’t have to see her face.

He stayed quiet but Ino could feel his gaze on the back of her head and his footsteps behind her. She passed the kiosks and soon turned to look to see him, walking with his gaze ahead. Ino stopped walking and watched him pass her, going in the direction she was heading that was near her house.

“Hey!” She called, gaining his attention, “Who are you!?”

He paused, turning to face her with his long surfboard in hand and black strands sticking to his face, his brows were crossed and eyes centered on her before he chuckled deeply and tilted his head to the side.

“Uchiha Sasuke, second son of Uchiha Fugaku.”

Ino froze a bit upon hearing those names, those were the names of strong political people in the country, anyone who was a citizen knew them. She stood feet planted in the ground aware of the way he was sizing her up, analyzing which behavior she was going to put up now.

“I’m Yamanaka Ino, daughter of Yamanaka Inoichi.”

If he was thinking about anything his expression didn’t give it away, he stood silent for a moment, his face calm yet stoic.

“…” The wind caressed their hair as his gaze shifted to her home nearby. “…Condolences.”

Ino widened her eyes and watched as he turned on his feet and continued walking away, Ino looked and shook her head before walking to her home, when she reached the crossroads she heard his voice.

“Ino.” He called as she turned to look back at him. “Your father was a powerful chairman and had many advantages that benefited not just him but my family—“

Ino tilted her head to the side, wondering where this conversation was going. Was he planning to make some sort of alliance with her?

“… But neither of those things interest me now, what I want to know is—“ He pointed his finger and stared straight at her. “—If you’re half as good as him when it comes to surfing.”

“What?” Ino blinked at him, confused but at the same time she understood, her father was an amazing surfer.

“I want to know if you have the skills and knowledge he had.” Sasuke added. “Do you?”

Ino shook her head and held her face, “I’m grieving and that’s all you can ask!? Get bent.”

She stormed off, leaving him standing with a somewhat confused look on his face, he nodded to himself and clicked his tongue.

#naruto #naruto shippuden #naruto fluff #naruto fanfiction #naruto fic #naruto angst #naruto au #naruto imagines #naruto fanfic #ino x sasuke #sasuke x ino #sasuino #fanfic #anime fanfic #sasuke fanfic #uchiha fanart #sasuke angst #sasuke fluff

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floraflow · 16 years

Text

FUERZA

(Buckle up, this is gonna be a long one.)

Was RUDELY AWAKENED by my mom this morning, 10 MINUTES BEFORE MY ALARM WAS SUPPOSED TO GO OFF. I was like “Mommm, whyyyyy” and she was like “you slept enough.” I begged her to let me stay home today, I was like “Please don’t make me go mom, pleeeeeease” but she didn’t budge. I told her I can’t do it and she snapped at me, “Sí, te puedes. Don’t you ever say ‘I can’t.’”

That’s when I realized why she had woken me up early. It’s...

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　Lecture Time　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Trust in me, Flora. I know school is hard. But I know also that you are smart and strong, como tu madre. I made it through school. I got through school with YOU IN MY BELLY. We can do anything. Nosotros tenemos FUERZA. I didn’t name you Flora because you are delicate. I named you Flora Anahí because you are resilient, como un yuyo, como la flor del árbol de ceibo.”

I relented and went to school, my eyes still crazy puffy from my weeping sesh yesterday.

While I rode the school bus, her words echoed in my mind. Not sure how I feel about being called a literal weed, but I appreciated my mom’s sentiment. It was actually really touching. They were words I felt like I could embody. I thought about James (a.k.a. CECIL) and how fed up I was with his obliqueness. I knew I had to talk to him straight, to ask him what the heck is up. Or else it would just fester inside me and I may never know peace.

But my stomach dropped and all my confidence disintegrated as soon as I climbed down the stairs of the bus and looked at Bogwick Academy looming over me, like Hogwarts, but in books 5-7. It dawned on me that asking James what the heck is up involved ME ASKING JAMES WHAT THE HECK IS UP. And I had NO idea how to do that.

I breathed in deep. And let out a big sigh. FUERZA.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I found Christa anxiously waiting by my locker. She apologized profusely for Gen and Bradley’s “childish” behavior. She said, “They never should have treated you that way. Especially when you were opening up about something personal and sensitive. I really can’t stand them sometimes.” Then she quickly added, “But don’t tell her I said that.”

I accepted her apology, but really wanted to ask if you can’t stand them, why do you keep standing BY them?

“And if there’s anything I can do to make up for it, please let me know, okay?”

I considered asking if she could erase Gen Ericson from this plane of existence, but held my tongue.

Christa continued, “About Gen, I think she’s just in a sensitive place right now. In the past, she has gotten pretty... possessive of me, I guess? I don’t think she likes when I make new friends...” Christa shrugged. “She isn’t all that bad when she warms up to you. I swear. And James... well, he’s always kinda been in a sensitive place. Whatever’s going on, I’m sure he doesn’t mean any harm.” She grabbed my hand and squeezed. “And, I mean, if it doesn’t work out, it’s okay. You and me will still be friends.” She smiled warmly and it did actually kinda make me feel better for some reason. But the feeling was short lived as soon as first period rolled around.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

First period was a bit of a bust cuz I was called into the headmaster’s office, where I received a ~lecture~ (much less inspiring than my mom’s) from Headmaster Wick. He basically told me that as a Bogwick student, it is my responsibility to uphold the 3 tenets of the school blah blah blah normally this would be grounds for suspension but since this is my first infringement of the rules, he’ll let me off with a warning blah blah blah if I pull a stunt like this again, I will lose my scholarship BLAH BLAH BLAH. Part of me was hoping he would expel me on the spot, save me from having to interact with Gen or Bradley or even James ever again. Alas, I wasn’t so fortunate. He told me I was “specially chosen” this scholarship by God’s grace (huh?) and I’m a valued member of the student body and he has faith that I will contribute great things to this community blah blah blah *insert more sanctimonious bullcrap here*

Oh! And how could I forget? I am of course required to confess my sins and say three hail-marys. UGHHH what a JOKE. （￣^￣）凸

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

By God’s ACTUAL grace, Gen was unusually quiet and ameanable in our classes together. Usually, when Gen isn’t speaking to me, it’s because she’s ignoring me, but today she was smiling at me. Kind of a scared smile. Christa must have really scolded her LOL.

So yeah, I was able to make it thru most of the day mishap-free, but I DID skip lunch cuz I didn’t feel ready to confront James. I’ve realized I am not a confrontational person. In fact, I would much prefer to avoid confrontation and conflict of any kind. I try to see things from other people’s perspective and act empathetically towards them. But I am also someone who strongly believes in fairness... And I kinda feel like I’m being treated unfairly. I mean, I AM being treated unfairly. I don’t know why it’s so hard to admit...

I can feel the panic begin to rise as I spend my lunch period sitting on a toilet and biting my nails to a pulp. I remind myself to breathe. Just breathe

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Which brings me to Bible Study. The class I have with James.

After some breath exercises (the ones Mr. Phillips taught me in voice lessons), I steeled myself to enter the classroom when, suddenly, I felt a gentle tug on my wrist. I turned around to see James looking at me with his puppy dog eyes. They always make me melt a little, which is very annoying at a time such as this.

He said, “You don’t have to go in. I already told Teach we wanted to spend this class period praying in the chapel.”

“What?”

“It should count as your confession. Ya know, for your suspension.”

“How do you know about that?”

“Because,” he said sheepishly, “I’ve been suspended before.”

Before I could respond, he said, “C’mon, follow me.”

#diary

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stolensiren · 2 years

Text

sucker punches // mateo & cass

TIMING: current PARTIES: @fearhims3lf & @stolensiren SUMMARY: cass runs into a drunken mateo while he's out causing trouble. like any good hero, she steps in to do her part. CONTENT: alcohol use

Sometimes, Mateo had learned, love was letting go. While the sentiment was meant to be something to help ease the pain, it only brought in more waves. Sharpened words like icicles pierced his heart and left him with nothing but the cold. A cold that matched the shoulder his father gave him. He shivered against the breeze, realizing the sensation was real, and the cool fall night did little to sober him. Vida had wanted him to stay home, but he needed to sate the needs of himself and the demon strapped to his back.

Traveling from bar to bar, Mateo felt his legs wanting to fail. Every step like a clock letting him know that time was still going. And he was ticking. Had a two ton weight resting in his heart, but he wasn’t ever one to give up so easily. Especially when his anger and grief fueled him. He had to find that something that would make either his father take everything back, or make the grief dissipate into a nothing akin to how he felt. Mateo was determined to find it, and as he walked, he had thoughts of turning around and going home. Going back to Vida and Luz the way his girlfriend likely would have wanted. In a drunken state though, it was rare that the more positive outlook won, so he trudged forward.

Screams filled with despair and outright terror echoed and replayed over and over again. It was music to Mateo’s ears and he chuckled as the newest screamer joined the orchestra. He had been so distracted that hadn’t even realized he was the cause of the chaos until he was inhaling another man’s breath and looking into his eyes with his glowing red hues. Reality snapped harshly and he pushed the stranger away, letting him scream as he moved on to find another victim with a swig of a bottle of tequila he stole from the bar.

Running towards the sound of screams instead of away from them was a hard habit to break once you’d gotten into it. Years ago, when she was a kid living on the streets and looking out only for herself, the concept of it would have made Cass snort, would have brought forth an intense disbelief. Running towards trouble was for people who didn’t have enough of it on their own, she’d figured. But… There was something kind of addicting about it now. Burying herself in other people’s problems let her take a break from her own, let her avoid the memory of Sloane’s face when her mom’s shop came apart or the way Shannon had looked crushed beneath it all. Distraction was good, sometimes.

And there was no better distraction than this.

It wasn’t hard to find the source of it all. A man was screaming, the sound echoing through the streets, and another man was standing over him with glowing red eyes and a bottle clutched in his hand. The eyes, Cass realized, were familiar. They looked like Marley’s, enough so that Cass had a sinking feeling she knew exactly what the man was doing. She’d never seen Marley feed, but the other woman had told her what it entailed. And it was clear that the man he’d fed off of was in a state of terror, still screaming even as he was shoved away.

Cass really couldn’t let that slide.

She moved quickly, planting herself in the mara’s path and holding out a hand to stop him. “Look, I get that you’re hungry or whatever, but you can’t just do that to people. It’s not right.”

Mateo didn’t quite listen to what Cass was saying, seeing only a fresh victim that would fall prey to his nature. He was the darkness in every corner, the monster under the bed, a beast on the prowl. “Shut up.” He slurred, grabbing onto Cass’s shoulder to keep her in place as his eyes met hers. The laugh that escaped him was involuntary, a natural response to feeling the nightmare begin with the red plumes he adored so. They engulfed the two in the crimson haze, wrapping around Mateo’s neck seductively and lethally around Cass’s.

The man before the young woman turned into a manifestation of septic jaws and putrid flesh. It grew in size and rotted into a state of decay not many should witness, stretching and ripping the delicate skin. Mateo felt himself turn into an ungodly formless creature that bleated fear and dripped with acrid blood that didn’t drip. It plopped onto the floor in black clots from every new festering gash as the monster continued to grow. The flesh broke apart and healed, over and over again, repeating the process as murky whispers filled the ominous red space that Mateo had created for Cass. All there was left to do was wait for the delicious scream, and then it was onto the next.

Fingers gripped her shoulder, holding her still as the mara set his sights on her, and Cass… in all honesty, Cass wasn’t sure what to do with this. She’d come across plenty of supernatural creatures in White Crest, was a supernatural creature herself even if she sometimes didn’t feel like one, but it was rare for her to… fall victim to them like this. Sure, she’d fought a few of the less humanoid monsters without much trouble, had taken on hedgehounds and bat creatures and come out on top, but this was different. This was more like the hunter in the motel room, or Jackrabbit in the woods, or Shannon in her shop. This was a person, and Cass didn’t want to hurt him.

Unfortunately, it didn’t seem like they were entirely on the same page there.

The world shifted around her, the man turning into a monster. (Or maybe he’d always been one. The thought was one she tried to push away, but it was hard not to think it all the same.) Everything was closing in on her, that hand still on her shoulders, that fear crawling up her spine. He wanted her to be afraid, and she was. Terror clawed at her throat like a living thing trying to get out, an animal terrified of the trap it was caught up in. A small sound escaped from the back of her throat; not a scream, not yet, but the beginnings of one. With Metzli’s lessons shooting to the forefront of her mind, she clenched her fist and swung it hard in an upwards motion, hoping to catch the mara on the chin and throw him off her.

The corners of Mateo’s mouth curled maliciously, celebrating prematurely at the scream he was so sure he was going to get. But of course, Cass had a different plan, and he was sent backwards onto his ass, effectively smashing the bottle with the impact. “Pinche cabrona…” He muttered, the words slurred not just from the alcohol, but from the swollen tongue he got from biting down thanks to the punch. It was a hell of a punch, but that did little to his actual body. For all intents and purposes, it was mostly his ego that was injured in the process. She’d made a fool out of him and he was miffed he’d hurt his own self. Filled with anger, he attempted to stand and swing, missing Cass entirely. Again, Mateo found himself on the ground. “Fuck you, pendeja. I wasn’t doin’ nothin’ but eatin’ like ya said.”

For a few moments, all the mara could do was lay there so he could bandage what was left of his dignity. There wasn’t much, but Mateo needed to salvage every little piece as if his name still meant something. It had to, but that was taken away without so much as a second thought. He was given up so easily, and he didn’t know what to do with that. He didn’t know what he was without his family and everything they taught him to be. Still, he got up and tried, baring his glowing eyes at Cass. “I’ll beat the shit outta you if you don’t leave. Ándale cabrona. Leave.”

The relief that came with the distance between Cass and the mara was immediate and overwhelming. The fear that had been clawing at her throat began to subside, the pounding of her heart slowed just a little. The adrenaline was still there, of course, but with the source cut off, that would die down, too. And there was a sense of pride on top of it, a quiet satisfaction that she’d taken a swing and hit something, hard enough to knock a grown man off his feet. She’d brag to Metzli about it later. But for now, a righteous anger burned in her chest, and she glared at the man on the ground. “That excuse might work if you were starving, but I literally just saw you feed off someone else. And there are better ways to do it. I know there are.” Marley had never done anything like this, as far as Cass knew. When people like this used what they were as an excuse to hurt people, it made things so much harder for everyone like them who were only trying to live their lives in peace. It gave hunters like the one who’d attacked Cass just for existing a way to claim that they were right for doing what they did.

The siren crossed her arms over her chest, glaring daggers at the man. She was sure she hardly looked like a threat, but she knew she couldn’t leave. Not when doing so would doom someone else to the fate she’d only narrowly escaped herself. “You don’t look like you could beat the shit out of anybody right now.” He was clearly drunk, and even with his extra abilities, she liked her chances. Cass had a few tricks up her sleeve, too, after all. “I’ll go home if you do, asshole. I’m not leaving so you can terrorize the streets.”

Mateo glared at the stranger, too annoyed to listen to reason. But really, he wasn’t much of a listener anyway, and he rarely let an opportunity to be an asshole go. “Oh, I’m starving, pendeja.” Starving to be exactly what he was. He took a single step forward and growled quietly, just about ready to tackle Cass and get a real fight started. She looked about his little sister’s age. Yoli could fight though. Maybe the young woman could too, but Mateo didn’t have the whole picture. She got one good punch in, sure, but everyone in the Lara family had known how to fight since they were kids. They learned to feed off of people and if anything went awry, their fists could finish the job. Which was exactly what Mateo set out to do. Just like he was taught. The Lara way.

“¿Sabes que?” He began in a slur, “I’m not going home. I’m a fucking mara, babosa. Don’t take shit from no one and do what I do ‘cause I’m fucking fear.” Mateo took a step forward, towering over the woman with a sneer. His fists curled tightly, and he lunged forward, setting out to get her to the ground and finally get the scream he felt he was owed. “You are real fucking annoying, you know that?” With a force, Mateo pinned Cass down by the shoulders and attempted to get her to look him in the eyes. “He’s gonna be wrong! He’s gonna—” Cass wouldn’t look. It seemed like she knew better, and he hated that. Once again, he was failing. Once again, he added another reason why his father had every right to give him up.

“Fuck you.” Mateo rolled off of Cass and felt his heart begin to pick up in pace, even faster than it was from the physical exertion. He pulled his knees to his chest that tightened unbearably, and his eyes welled with tears he had been holding back. Failure was written over his body, and he could do nothing but sit there.

Cass didn’t actually know how much or how frequently maras needed to eat. Despite the close relationship she’d had with Marley, she was hardly an expert on the species. She knew the basics, knew what Marley had been like, but she didn’t know much more. Still, she had a feeling the one in front of her now was exaggerating just a little. She’d seen starving. She’d been starving. She knew how it made you act, what it made you do. This behavior wasn’t something that could be excused with that. There was a cruelty to what he was doing, and Cass was familiar with that, too. She’d seen it a thousand times. It usually came from a place of pain, because most things did. But there was nothing on Earth more dangerous than a person who was hurting.

“You’re a fucking asshole is what you are,” she snapped back, not faltering as he moved closer. He was fear, he said, but Cass wasn’t afraid anymore. She was just… kind of pissed off now. The anger didn’t fade as he tackled her to the ground, even as she turned her head to avoid getting caught up in his gaze again. He wanted to scare her. Lots of people did. Cass had gotten pretty good at refusing to let them. “I get that a lot,” she replied, like it was a conversation and not a fight. She figured reacting like that would make him angrier, and she was fine with that. She wanted that. Fuck this guy.

He rolled off her then, looking more miserable than he had a moment before. Between that and his earlier insistence that someone was ‘going to be wrong,’ she figured there was more going on here than met the eye. Sympathy tugged at her gut, but not nearly as intensely as it might have had he not attacked her and the man from before. She stood, dusting herself off and continuing to glare at the man. “Whatever you’re trying to do here,” she said, “it isn’t going to make you feel any better. This thing you’ve got going on, this idea that you’re allowed to hurt other people because you’re hurting? It’s bullshit. It’s not going to help anybody. Not even you.”

“I know I am! That’s all I am!” Mateo spat back, “You take one good fucking look at me. Que chingona eres, but you don’t get shit!” He hissed with his whole body, faking Cass out with a flash of a lunge. There was little more he could do than just sit there waiting to see what would happen next. He was too drunk to fight, and he was too panicked to really care how that made him look. Being the strong one for so long for his family, Mateo didn’t really know how else to be. Raising a family took a village, and he’d been the village his whole life. What was the point of being strong and powerful and wealthy if he wasn’t giving it to them?

“Just leave me alone. You’re not gonna get it and I ain’t explaining shit.” At that point, all Mateo wanted to do was go home and plop himself down on the couch. Maybe crawl shamefully into bed with Vida, but he wouldn’t dare let Luz see him in that state. He couldn’t risk that if she ended up in their bed. “I’m done anyway. Wasn’t even that fun.”

He was obviously beyond drunk. Cass had never been entirely comfortable with anyone at this level of intoxication, less so when the person in question was as… confrontational as this one was being now. Still, she refused to let him see her discomfort, refused to let that fear come back. The people she loved were so brave. Any of them would have known what to do here far better than Cass did. Metzli, Marina, Levi, Correy… even Teddy would probably be a better fit here, as much as Cass hated to admit it. Because Cass? She just felt lost. She didn’t know how to react. She didn’t know if she was supposed to kick this guy’s ass or buy him a sandwich.

Some hero.

“You don’t know me well enough to know what I would or wouldn’t get,” she replied, refusing to walk away. She wasn’t really afraid of him anymore; thanks to Metzli, she knew she could kick a drunk guy’s ass if she needed to. This one could barely stand on his own. So long as she didn’t let that fear gaze get her again, she’d be fine. “And it’s not — It shouldn’t be fun. Hurting people shouldn’t be fun.”

“Yeah well, you ain’t a mara and you ain’t my family, so I know damn well you wouldn’t get it.” Mateo rolled his eyes and played with the shadows next to him. The cold void was soothing, and he used it to ground himself enough to get his heart rate back to normal. Maybe it wasn’t the warmth of his mother’s hugs, or the soothing thrum of his father’s voice, but it was a constant that had been with him as long as they had been. Better yet, it couldn’t abandon him and it would always understand because it was as dark as him.

“See what I mean?” Mateo shook his head and sighed, “Scaring people is fun. It feels good and,” He patted his stomach, promptly flipping Cass off in the process, “Keeps me fed. Kept my family fed too, but that’s fuck all, chale?” Thirty years and it all meant nothing. He grumbled a few indiscernible things after that, sighing soon after. To put it simply, Mateo was defeated.

Maybe he was right. There were some things Cass could never understand. Being a siren was different than being a mara or a vampire or a zombie. She didn’t have to hurt people to live, didn’t have to eat anything more than the human food she’d grown up with. But… there was more to it than that, too. If this guy’s problem was with his family, the way it sounded like it was? Cass could never hope to relate to that, either. She thought of Sloane, of the grief reflected in her expression when her mother died. She thought of this man, of the way he was curled in the street. Family could rip you to pieces sometimes. Cass had seen that. She’d still give anything to know hers.

“Maybe that’s your problem,” she snapped, angry for reasons that had little to do with him now. “You can’t decide if you’re doing this because you have to or because it’s fun. And there’s a really, really big difference between those two things. When you start doing shit because you feel like doing it and telling everyone it’s because you have no choice, that’s what makes you a dick.” She was being a little too harsh, and she knew it. She was also being a little hypocritical, given how much she was willing to forgive when it was Levi or Marina or someone she loved doing something like this. But the fear he’d forced into her earlier was still lurking, and the anger and childish jealousy about the fact that he had a family to have issues with at all were overpowering. “Just — Just get the hell out of here. Go home and sleep off… whatever this is. And maybe you’ll be less of an asshole in the morning.”

“Fuck you, bitch. I’m doing it because I have to and I enjoy it.” Mateo stood up then, leaning on the wall for support. He continued to sway under the influence of alcohol, but he had a little more control than he would standing alone. “That’s what makes me a dick. I like what I have to do, and somehow that’s a problem.” Throw a little money in and all Mateo had to do was exist. He was paid to be himself, and that made him proud up until his father disowned him.

Feeling a bout of childish vigor himself, Mateo mocked Cass before finally speaking normally. “How ‘bout you go home? Isn’t it past your bedtime?” His own comment made his heart squeeze, realizing he didn’t even sing Luz’s goodnight song before heading out. And now, he couldn’t even go back to the only place that felt like home. Not in his condition, at least. Mateo supposed that was probably fine though. Vida and Luz didn’t need to see him so broken and drunk. He’d likely just go back to his apartment, or maybe just sit there on the pavement. “Just leave me alone. I’m over this.”

This guy was really starting to get on her nerves. Cass had never responded well to things like this, never been entirely comfortable with people raising their voice or insulting her. Another foster care quirk. Grow up around enough people like that and you tended to fall into fight or flight mode at the smallest provocation. And right now, Cass was fully in fight. There’d be no flight, not when she was pretty sure that was what this guy wanted, not when leaving might mean he attacked the next vulnerable person who came along.

“Stop talking,” she said harshly, and the enthrallment she put behind the words wasn’t as accidental as it normally might be. She had no idea if it would even work on a mara, but she knew she was sick of listening to him. “Sit back down, before you fall over and crack your stupid head open on the stupid sidewalk. You wanna be left alone? Then stop acting like some asshole who needs to be babysat just to make sure he doesn’t kill somebody for walking down the street a little too close. I’ll leave you alone when I’m sure you’re not going to hurt anybody, and you’re doing a really, really shitty job at convincing me you’re even capable of that.”

“Okay.” Without any fight, Mateo pressed his lips together in a thin line and sat down with widened eyes. He had little to no grace, stumbling into a seated position after tearing his leather jacket on the brick wall. That didn’t really matter though. Mateo’s attention was fully on Cass. He couldn’t even question it if he wanted to. There was nothing else to want but to wait and listen for whatever else Cass had to say. He clung onto every word, nodding vehemently to anything and everything she said. It wasn’t until she was done that he even dared open his mouth.

“Okay. Whatever you say.” Mateo once again agreed with a drone to his voice. His eyes were vacant, blinking slowly and revealing no malice as they had been just a minute ago. Why would he anyway? Cass’s voice was all he wanted to hear. There was no use ruining the sound of the area by speaking.

The enthrallment took hold so quickly and so completely that a rush of guilt flooded into her chest, an acidic taste crawling up the back of her throat. This never felt as good as she hoped it would. She never felt happy about it, never felt like she was doing anything decent. But… it was necessary, sometimes. The mara was angry and unruly and he’d been hurting people. He’d hurt the man who had long since run screaming from the streets. He’d tried to hurt her, too. And he liked it. There were so few ways to stop people like that.

(The memory of that hunter in that motel room rushed back to her so quickly she could almost feel the tacky sensation of his blood on her hands. She pushed it away. That wasn’t going to happen again. That was never going to happen again.)

Cass looked down at the docile mara, unsure how to proceed now. Any enthrallment she put him under would wear off sooner rather than later, she knew. The alcohol might make it cling to him a little longer, but not forever. She told herself that was a good thing, anyway, that she’d never want to be the sort of person who did something like that in a way that stuck even if it would be more convenient. Clearing her throat, she shifted uncertainly. “Go home,” she said, a little softer. “Sleep this off. Drink some water, and eat some crackers.” Maybe things would be better in the morning. Maybe sobriety would make him less… this.

“Home,” Mateo parroted the word back to Cass, accepting the command with no resistance. Nodding languidly, he shuffled to his feet, muttering the rest of the commands, as if to secure them in his mind. It wasn’t normal for him to listen so intently, let alone do as he was told, but he found himself wanting and wishing Cass would speak more. Her voice felt so natural to listen to, and every order was something Mateo wanted to do for her. Happily. At the moment, at least. He’d be angry in the morning, or rather, the afternoon when he’d finally get up. That was a problem for the next day though. His focus was on what he needed to do for Cass.

Without another word to her, Mateo departed toward home. Vida’s house wasn’t too far away, and that would be the reason he’d give himself for calling it home, but there were layers to that decision he wasn’t ready to face. Amongst the many other things. For the time being, Mateo would deem it fine. It had to be. He didn’t know of another way to process. Because of this, that night would likely not be the last time him and Cass crossed paths.

Cass watched him go with a lump in her throat. She was confident that he’d go home — the command had taken hold pretty firmly in his mind, cemented itself there with little resistance. And it wasn’t as if she’d made him do anything bad. In his state, he was better off at home with a bottle of water and a sleeve of crackers, anyway. Part of her wished she’d instructed him to take a Tylonel or something, but… Well, he did kind of deserve the hangover he had coming.

She kept an eye on him until his figure was a speck in the darkness, sighing to herself as she finally turned away. If nothing else, she’d made tonight a little better. For the people he might have hurt had he been allowed to stay out, and maybe for him, too. As she started in the opposite direction, she pretended it felt decent instead of shitty.

#fearhims3lf #mateo: sucker punches #alcohol tw

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timbrrwolfe · 4 months

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My parents sort of alternate whether they stay home for Christmas or go visit my sister and her family. When they do visit my sister, I stay home. Both because it means we don't have to spend money on boarding the pets and because my sister and I have historically not gotten along. We're better (tm) now but I still have no desire to be under her house and hear her echo dad's favorite "this is my house" sentiment. Though honestly with how things have been going between my parents and my sister lately I might've ended up being a moderating influence if I had gone, because a lot of my social values tend to line up more with my sister's than my parents (the main break point being that she left The Faith while I still hold it, even if I'm not really...doing anything with it.) I think my parents mentioned having a hotel this year but with Covid very much still being a thing I also have no desire to travel and stay in one, so home I stay.

Which means that my Christmas is likely gonna consist of a lot of movies, some new some old, and whatever else ends up holding my attention, with a likely interruption of a video call with my mom so that my nieces and nephew can remember I exist =P

And honestly having my parents out of the house for a week or two so I have the house to myself is pretty much a vacation on its own, for me. So I get to have a pretty quiet and chill Christmas. The only real issue is that my parents left later than they intended which screwed up my Christmas media consumption plans so instead of watching movies leading up to Christmas I'll be watching everything on or after Christmas, alas.

Anyway Merry Christmas y'all

#Random Timbit #bonus that Christmas music has made me mega emotional this year #which is probably because of the situation in Palestine layering on top of music that's already nostalgic and emotional #But yeah I was intending to play through Batman Arkham Origins and that probably won't be happening now #...partially because I got a bunch of other games that I'd probably rather play. They're just not Christmas adjacent #Ok I wasn't gonna tag this with #Timbrr rambles #but then I rambled in the tags

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determinedwriter · 7 months

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Whumptober 2023: Day 12: Insomnia

Whumptober 2023: Day 12: Insomnia (Continued from yesterday's part)

Help doesn’t come the way I hoped it would. Nobody comes for us and I’m left to care for Peter who only gets worse. What am I going to do if help doesn’t come soon? Will I be able to keep him alive?

I’m scared I won’t be good enough to keep the one I love safe. And I truly, deeply love Peter Parker—more than a high school sweetheart. I know in my heart that it’s so much more than that. It’s a bond like nothing else.

I watch him all night as he sleeps, not able to bring myself to get some shut-eye like he is. I’m afraid he might never wake up, but I stop myself from waking him. He needs rest to heal, I think. I’m not sure what else to do.

Looking down at the sweet, sleeping boy, my heart swells. I can’t lose him. I wish I were the one in his position. He’s the last person who deserves this. I should tell him how much I adore him. I should. I-

“Ro?” He mumbles.

“Hey, Pete,” I reply softly.

Even with all of the pain he’s clearly in, he grins at me and asks about how I’m doing before worrying about himself. “You know, you can still leave if-“

I glare at him. “Don’t do this.”

Peter backs down. “I’m sorry. I just want you to be safe.”

“I know that.” I snap.

He shuts up and I sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m just worried about you.”

“What about your arm?” He questions.

I look at my arm that I’ve now put in a sling made from my flannel over my shirt. “I’m fine. It hurts, but I’ll live.”

“It looks broken.” He replies, echoing the same sentiment as yesterday when we got into this mess.

“I don’t know if it is or if it isn’t. All that matters is you.” I say.

“Ro, that’s not true. You need help.” Peter argues.

“You can’t walk. I’m taking care of you whether you like it or not, mister.” I counter. “No ifs ands or buts about it.”

He shuts his eyes and exhales. “You should at least get some sleep.”

I don’t mean to be uncooperative, but I can tell I’m testing his patience. “I can’t. I have to look after you. The guys that blew up the bus and set the trap could come and hurt us.”

Peter frowns. “I don’t want to be the reason you die. I can’t lose you. Especially not because of my own mistakes. I ran into the woods without a second thought and now you’re dealing with it.”

“Peter, you ran into these woods because you heard a scream. It’s in your nature to look out for people.

Friendly neighborhood Spider-Man and all that. It was a trap, but you did the right thing. That’s not on you. That’s on the assholes that set the trap and probably so killed our classmates.” I reassure him.

“We don’t know they’re dead.” He mumbles.

“We didn’t see anyone else get out of that bus alive. I…I don’t know. If someone else was alive, we would have seen them.” I say stubbornly.

“Have a little faith,” Peter tells me.

“Having faith hasn’t done shit for me,” I grumble. “Look where we are. Look at the things around me. They…they all get ruined. People die. Because of me.”

He squeezes my hand. “You save people. You saved me.”

“My mom is gone and I couldn’t protect her. My first home was destroyed by the Mandarin, I was injected with Extremis and tortured with it as a little girl, I caused Loki to kill Agent Coulson in New York…I’m more trouble than I’m worth. And sooner or later, you’ll be hurt by me too. No matter how hard I try to stop it. After this is all over, you should stay away from me. Far away.” I explain.

He’s silent for a long moment. “None of that is your fault. None of it.”

I shake my head. “I don’t wanna lose you.”

“Good,” Peter says softly. “I don’t wanna lose you either. Ro, I…”

Brushing hair out of the weak, sweet boy’s face, I kiss him. “I think you’re pretty rad.”

He coughs, laughing lightly. “Thanks. You’re pretty rad too.”

“We’re gonna be okay,” I tell him. “I promise.”

I promise, Peter.

(Continued in tomorrow's part and continues for another few parts.)

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bedeul · 7 months

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deul goes home to mokpo.

when deul arrived at his parents' home his mother greeted him with a big hug as she always did. "deul-ah, i'm so happy you could make it." she said. "you've gotten so tall." she said. she always said that. deul wasn't sure if he was actually that tall or if she just thought he was tall because she still thought of him as the teenage boy who had left to go train to be an idol. "your room is just how you left it, sweetie." his mother continued beckoning him to come in. "when you get changed let me know."

deul had bought a new hanbok for the occassion because he knew that his mother liked to see him dress up. he'd picked it for the soft blush pink color, which he knew complimented his features. he changed into the new hanbok looking around his childhood room quietly. he had shared it with both his brothers at one point in time but he'd spent far more time alone in this room thanks to the difference in age between himself and his brothers. shaking himself out of his almost melancholy thoughts he headed back out to the living room where he knew his parents and older brothers would be making sure they had enough offerings for their visit to the tomb.

his father noted his presence first and smiled widely. "you look sharp." he said brightly. deul smiled back. his father said as much every year but it was always nice to hear no matter how many previous times it had been reiterated. his father handed him one of the baskets.

haeoreum spoke up next. "what did you do with my kid brother, huh? you look like an adult now." deul just laughed. with both haeoreum and eutteum being in ilsan and ansan respectively deul got to see them much more often than he did his parents so he knew that his eldest brother was only teasing him.

eutteum snorted from where he was standing by their mom. "you just saw deul last week, hyung." he said, with an unimpressed tone. "but the way you talk people would think you hadn't seen him in ages."

"a week is an age." haeoreum shot back. "especially when you're old like me."

"you're not even thirty yet." eutteum said. "i think you just have a bad memory."

"are you kids staying the night? i wish you would, trying to catch the train might be tight." his mother spoke up, gently breaking up the playful bickering match.

"i planned on taking the first train tomorrow." deul said. haeoreum and eutteum echoed the sentiment. all three of them knew that their mother would've insisted they stay the night anyway even if they had planned on going home initially.

chuseok always went the same way. they went to the family tomb where they met up with their cousins and made some offerings to their ancestors before returning home with cousins in tow. then they all would try to squeeze into his parents' small kitchen to help cook dinner. after dinner they'd all help clean up and their mother would insist it was too late for them to go back home so they'd all find some way to spend the night.

it was a tight squeeze when they had been children but now that all of them were adults trying to accomodate twelve people had gotten more than a little bit tougher. but they always knew that their mother would find a way to do it.

#be:chuseok2023 #╰ * 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 » deul ; self para

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sanflwrx · 1 year

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.: Dear Ryu :.

When I think about little pockets of joy in my life, I think about how you always make me feel (esp that night in Big Echo). I’m not sure how you do it, but you make me feel like I’m made out of stars. With you I feel so safe-- how could I not when you’re always making sure that I don’t have to carry my heavy luggage, making sure I’m warm bc my dumb ass didn’t bring the right jacket, or fending off creepers at the club. Some of my favorite moments of Japan have been when you were there-- whether it’s the late night talks about our ambitions, or sentimentally looking back at how much your mom meant to both of us... I look back fondly at that country because of you. Bowen and I wouldn’t have experienced so much of Japan bc of you. This last trip has me seeing you in a different light. I honestly saw you as Yoko-san’s mischevious son--your smirk easily getting you out of trouble with all your random kuro-chan shinanegans. This time around, you in your salary man suit + japanesesque mannerisms + learning that you’re reading self improvement books it’s like watching the world evolve for the better. I know you’re worried/a bit ashamed of your failures, but dude I am so proud of you. It’d have been so easy to just stay home and fall into the trap I see so many young men in our group fall into but you chased your dream head on (though half planned lol). I hope if I have a son that he turns out just like you.

#the person that gave you your favorite memory

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greywaysart · 1 year

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Okay so, technically this one should have gone with the previous post as like, this series of images that just don't belong in their own post.

But also, consider:

I love my phoenix soul sorcerer daughter.

Her name is Arista and this is the first drawing I did of her. I need to draw her again some time (I drew her once after this) and maybe nail down her clothing a little more.

Arista is a Haunted One background Phoenix Soul Sorcerer. She was born as Agata Duricz to, oh, just the most famous assassin in the region, the legendary The Raven's Talon and an equally as famous hero adventurer who sooort of didn't know he was, you know, Lawful Evil. Oh and her dad Soooooort of made off with her in the night while her mom was cleaning up the mess he'd made of the guy she'd been hired to protect. It's fine! It's great! It's okay! This has no consequences whatsoever!

(There were consequences, my friends.)

While her father was an infamous assassin, he had different desires for her. He used his connections to the upper crust to get her the best a commoner child could get: Good education, a stable upbringing, healthy food.

And, once she'd set her nursery on fire with her budding magic, the best tutor in the city he'd fled to all those years ago. A lord or lady's hired sorcerer was his desired outcome for her.

With the fortune he'd amassed over the years he even had a large amount of time to spend with her, to instill morals into her that he never really found time to follow for himself.

And. Well. I'll let her character sheet say the rest:

A future life as the hired sorcerer to a lord or lady was not to be however, as she was abducted by the cult of [Talk To DM] at the age of eight. The cult saw in her (they thought) the signs of their hidden master, a forbidden deity of flames locked away since time immemorial. They thought she was their chosen one. Agata was taught to embrace the flames, an easy task to give a child who would set things alight for the delight of it, training her to give into destructive whims.

All was going according to their plans until they saw fit to have her take part in a sacrifice, to set ablaze the pyre upon which a 'traitor' pleaded for their life. Rather than fear or joy at the action, Agata felt unease. Her father had impressed upon her that taking a life, while necessary, was not something to be done for the sake of amusement, a sentiment echoed by her tutor. After much thought she came to realise that by killing someone, you took away someone else's father, or tutor, or important person.

Empathy may not have been her favourite discovery in life, but it lead to her keeping her head even as the cult tried (and in some cases, succeeded) to twist her into something unrecognisable. It led to her understanding that what they were trying to unleash was awful, far worse than she'd imagined.

After months and months of preparation, Agata left the cult behind in flames, praying every soul perished so their dirty work couldn't be continued, but not staying around long enough to find out.

In the three years since, she has come to the name Arista, changed her appearance wildly, and traveled far from both home and where she started, all in service of a new life. A life without the expectations of housing a dark god."

So anyway she's loosely based off of ANOTHER one of my OCs (the cult background, yep. She and Ruby share a background) put into a D&D setting and I love her.

Oh, and, the phonix soul thing?

See, before her mom realised she was pregnant, she saved a phoenix, but died in the process. The phoenix revived her (and her child with her) and whoops that's a magic baby, folks!

Anyway I have yet to play her in a game but I love her. I partially love that she both does not know how to be a normal person (and thus became an adventurer) but also REALLY wants to not be found, two traits that ultimately conflict with each other.

#dungeons and dragons #D&D #Sorcerer #phoenix soul sorcerer #oc #my oc #OC: Arista Palicz #My art

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cherryyharryy · 3 years

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please write something about Harry overhearing the reader’s friend tell her that Harry doesn’t spend time with her that she deserves someone better they hang up b4 the reader can say anything like angst to fluff

Thank you for requesting!

This is 80's harry lol

WC: 2.4K

Harry pauses the music on his Walkman, slipping the headphones off his ears to rest around his neck while he fiddles with the key to his apartment.

She had spent the night—his angel. It had been quite the set up, since she still lives at home with her parents while finishing college, a little white lie was passed around to cover her absence. Harry wasn’t a secret by any means, but her parents weren’t the most open minded, and a small fib was easier to handle than trying to rehash the same discussion of y/n being a grown woman. It was hard enough for her to get their approval for college...one mountain at a time.

Harry’s ears burn as he sets the groceries down in the kitchen, the thought of her still tangled up in his sheets beckoning him back to his room, is enough to drive him wild. He doesn’t catch himself zoning out until the phone rings. He untangles his music off his shoulders and yanks the phone off the wall, but y/n has beat him to it, her soft morning voice greeting Caroline before Harry can utter a word.

His brain is too slow in making the connection that he should hang up. That he shouldn’t eavesdrop on his girlfriend’s private conversation. That he owes her the respect that her parents never give her. But he hears his name, specifically, he hears Caroline ask y/n how last night was, so the phone stays glued to his ear.

“Amazing,” she purrs, and Harry’s stomach flips. “We did it like, three times.”

The girls giggle, and Harry shuffles on his feet with a veiny blush spreading all over his body. He can imagine y/n draped in his sheets, phone cord wrapped around her fingers, just a few steps away from him

“Better be nothing short of amazing,” Caroline says, “with what little time he gives you anyway. Ugh, if Tony ever left me hanging as often as Harry, I’d dump him so fast.” She smacks her gum into the phone and Harry flinches. “He tried to ditch me one time to go see Scarface with Rob, and I was like, hell no, you’re taking me skating like you promised. Honestly y/n, you can do better. You’re surrounded by college boys, go find a future doctor.”

The phone almost slips from Harry’s hand, but he catches it and hangs it back on the wall, just in time for his entire world to start crumbling to his feet.

Did he really not spend enough time with y/n?

How long has this been a topic shared between them?

And why hasn’t she said anything before?

Harry stands in the middle of his kitchen, immobilized. He can’t lose her, especially not to something he can fix. She’s been his girl since they were sixteen, there’s too much history between them, or so he thought.

He files through the memories he has of them together, trying to quantify them, trying to see where he started slipping.

Maybe it’s when he took over his dad’s business? But she knew how demanding it would be, and always supported him. Or maybe it’s because they don’t go out as much? Between him managing an appliance store, and her working towards a bachelors, they often opt for nights on the couch watching SNL reruns.

His mind is foggy, and he doesn’t catch his bedroom door creaking open.

“H?”

Harry startles back to present, gripping the counter as y/n emerges from his room wearing nothing but his t-shirt.

“You okay? Look like a deer caught in headlights.”

“Mm, no, fine.”

“I heard you come in a bit ago.” She flicks her eyes over his kitchen, looking for the breakfast he had promised to make almost an hour ago.

“Didn’t want to be too loud.”

“Oh, alright.” She smiles, attempting to diffuse whatever awkward tension has settled in his home. “Well, cook away! I can help too.”

He grabs her wrist before she reaches the fridge. “No, I’ll make it for you. Go back to bed.”

“You sure?”

He nods, forcing a smile.

She peers back over her shoulder twice on her walk back to his room, hoping to figure out what’s going on, but learns nothing.

As soon as his door shuts, Harry flies around his kitchen, grabbing what he needs to make the fastest breakfast in the world.

He’s going to spend every free second he has with her, and doesn’t want to waste any if he doesn’t have to.

***

Harry knows he’s borderline annoying. And he knows his actions are beginning to appear creepy, if not bizarre. He tags along with y/n everywhere she goes now, even at the doctor where he almost followed her back to her exam. She gently placed her hands on his chest and told him that she would rather the doctor do the job, promising she’d be out in no time.

She’s been tiptoeing around him too, not sure what to make of his new routine of gluing himself to her side, hoping it will wear off and things will go back to normal.

But she waits and she waits, and normal never resurfaces.

“H, baby, I can’t concentrate with you so close to me.”

Harry looks offended, slipping his reading glasses off his nose and closing the book he was halfway through, giving her his full attention when he asks what she means.

Y/n peers around the library, not wanting to have this discussion so publicly, but too keyed up to wait any longer. “I’ve just noticed that you’ve...been a little clingy lately? More like a lot.”

“I just wanted to spend more time with you.”

“You’re picking me up, and walking me to my classes—”

“Thought that was nice?”

“You don’t even go to this school. Listen, the sentiment is nice, but I’m starting to feel a little suffocated.”

Harry bites his cheek so hard he draws blood. “And what did Caroline have to say about that?”

“What?”

“I’m sure that nosy friend of yours had a lot to say about me when you brought this up.”

“Excuse me!”

“Quiet, please,” one of the staff members shushes y/n, “Or I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

Y/n ignores the snickers from a table of girls nearby, recoiling her embarrassment and turning it to anger. Her voice, although lowered, now drags out of her mouth in sharp tones. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I heard everything, that morning Caroline called my phone to talk to you about how crummy of a boyfriend I am.”

That morning, now a month ago, is hardly a memory in y/n’s head. She fights around for details of the conversation, but comes up empty handed. “I still don’t know what you’re talking about, and frankly, I don’t care.” She starts closing all her books and gathering her school work to shove into her bag.

“Where are you going?”

“Home.”

Harry blinks, fumbling for his next question as y/n hurries across the library. He’s quick to catch up with her, waiting until they’re outside where they don’t have to whisper. “Don’t walk, I have my car.”

He reaches for her shoulder but she shrugs it off. “I’m going home. My home, not yours.”

Harry freezes on the sidewalk. She continues on her way until she disappears around the building. A few students yell out at Harry, making fun of the guy who, from a distance, just got rejected. He flips them off and heads to his car, beating the steering wheel all the way back to his apartment.

***

“You’ve been studying an awful lot lately,” y/n’s dad comments from across the dinner table. “Do you have a big test coming up?”

“Hm?”

“You spend the night with Rayna almost every weekend.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. We have a lot of tests.” Y/n spoons a bite of mashed potatoes into her mouth, thankful neither of her parents went to college. It’s allowed for more stretched lies when she sleeps over at Harry’s. “Like a lot. Every week.”

Her mother hums from her seat, nodding to save her spot in the conversation while she finishes chewing. “We told you how hard it would be. But you wouldn’t listen.”

“That’s not—” “Shelly’s daughter just got a job as a receptionist, over at that dental office by the mattress store.” Her dad points at y/n with his fork. “You could ask her if she knows of any other places looking for a girl.”

“I’m not going to have a job where the requirement is girl.”

“You’re taking this too liberally, dear. Oh Lord, John, that school did just what you said.”

“No—”

“That’s what happens, girls go off to try and get a degree...and what for? What are you going to do when you get married and have kids?”

“Kids!?”

Her mom scoffs. “Well you’re not going to be able to raise children and work.”

“Are you two serious right now? It’s 1985, not fifty-five! Women go to college, they work, some of them don’t even get married! Or have kids!”

“When you were little you couldn’t wait to be a mom. Now all of a sudden you’ve changed your mind. That never would have happened if we hadn’t let you go off to that damn school.”

“Yes I’ve changed my mind! If it hadn’t been for that school, I never would have realized that it’s my own mind to change. It’s my own life to do whatever I want with, not yours.”

“Well I am—” Her dad is interrupted by the door bell echoing outside the kitchen. “One minute. We’re not done with this yet.”

Muffled voices stagger from the front door while y/n pushes the food around her plate. She hopes that whoever is at the door keeps her dad busy for a while. She knows her mom won’t have these types of conversations without him, which just showcases the lifestyle she is adamantly trying to avoid. One that was passed down to her parents, but y/n is determined to squeeze herself out of that narrative no matter what.

“Y/n!” her dad calls, “you have a visitor.”

Y/n peers up at her mom, both women exchanging confused glances before they go see who had arrived.

“Oh,” y/n says dully, “It’s you.”

Harry stands with his hands shoved into jacket pockets, peering at each family member before speaking. “Hey, uh, I was hoping we could talk. Privately.”

Y/n nods, and leads the way back through the kitchen to the back porch. She’s not really in the mood to be talking to him, or having this conversation, but right now he’s a free ticket away from her parents, so she accepts.

They sit halfway down the steps, just like they’ve done a thousand times before. Her on the right, him on the left. Usually his arm is thrown over her shoulder, and their knees bump together until Harry pulls her in so close that not even a breeze could fit between them, but now they’re both collected on their respective sides of the wooden step.

“Heard the new Prince song?”

Y/n rolls her eyes. “It’s been a week.”

“Exactly, a lot’s happened in a week. Prince came out with a new song, Michael Jordan’s rookie of the year, and there’s gonna be a Rocky four.”

“Did you come over to talk about everyone else’s good news?”

Harry sighs. “We’ve never gone a week without talking. Ever.”

“Well you really hurt my feelings.” She turns to look at him, tears welling up in her eyes. “I mean, you don’t even trust me, so you listen in on my phone calls—”

“That’s not—no. I picked up when you did.”

“But you still listened.”

“Okay yeah, but only because I heard my name.” He shrugs, a timid smile playing on his lips. “Wanted to hear what you thought about me.”

“I tell you what I think all the time. I’ve never kept my feelings secret from you.”

“It’s different.” He pulls his hands from his pockets and runs them through his hair, tugging on fistfuls of curls out of frustration. “But then when Caroline said all that, ‘bout me not spending enough time with you, it killed me.”

“That’s what this is about,” she sighs, more to herself than to Harry as the memory of that morning resurfaces in her mind. “You dork, what about what I said back?”

“I hung up. Didn’t wanna hear anything else after that.”

“I told her how wrong she was. How we spend lots of time together.”

“You did?”

“Mhm. She’s always bragging about her and Tony, like they’re the first two people to date ever. I totally rubbed our relationship in her face.”

Harry’s surprised by the gleam on his girlfriend’s face, and tries not to laugh. “What else did you tell her?”

“I dunno.” She shrugs, suddenly shy. “Can’t remember.”

“How convenient.” He nudges her knee with his, and she bumps him back.

Y/n exhales, dipping her head back to squint at the stars peeking out from a cloudy night. “My parents are driving me crazy.”

“They always drive you crazy.”

“Yeah but, more than usual. I got spoiled staying with you on the weekends.”

Harry hums, reaching his arm over to pull her into his side. “Maybe it shouldn’t just be weekends…”

“They would know something’s up if I stayed over on weeknights.”

“No, baby, I mean permanently.”

“Like moving in together?”

“Why not?”

She chews on her lip, trying to keep her smile hidden. “I don’t know...that’s a big deal. It’s a big step.”

“We can think about it. No rush.”

“It would be nice. To see each other whenever we wanted.”

Harry tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Wouldn’t have to ask your parents permission for anything.”

“Yeah…”

“Just me.”

“Hey!”

“I’m kidding, angel.” He kisses her forehead and takes her hand, helping her up.

Y/n’s parents are in the living room when the two are back in the house, and just the thought of continuing her evening here lights a fire under y/n.

“I’m going over to Harry’s,” she announces.

Harry drops her hand, just as surprised as her parents.

“Excuse me?” Her father turns the t.v. off and straightens in his chair. “I don’t think so.”

“Well I think so,” y/n defends. “Come on, Harry.” She takes his hand and tugs him towards the door.

“Harry!” Her mother protests.

He looks over his shoulder just as he’s being led out the door. “Oh, you can call me Rayna.”

#Harry styles requested #Harry styles requests #requests #request #harry styles fic #cherryyharryy #harry styles one shot #harry styles angst to fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff

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sevens-evan · 3 years

Note

43 with bumbleby pls :,)

what if atlas date night...but they didn't get interrupted. this is a very original and unique idea

"It's so nice out," Blake says as they step out onto the street. The heat and music of the club is abruptly cut by the cold and the ambient sounds of the mostly-sleeping city. The nightlife in both Atlas and Mantle isn't exactly thriving at the moment, under what Yang is privately referring to as a military dictatorship, and outside the packed club Neon had led them to, the streets are empty and quiet.

"Nice?" Yang echoes, trailing behind. It isn't a sentiment she's heard from Blake about Atlas before—not the city, certainly not the people, and certainly not the weather. It's not quite as cold tonight as it has been lately, but the chill in the air still borders on violent.

"Mm." Blake slows for a moment to allow Yang to catch up. When they draw even, Blake takes a step sideways, wrapping her arm through Yang's and pulling them close together. "It's cold and shitty, but I'm in a good mood." Her matter-of-fact tone draws a laugh out of Yang.

"You're drunk," she says. Blake sighs deeply, her breath puffing against the side of Yang's neck and provoking her skin into goosebumps—or maybe that's the cold.

It's definitely not the cold.

"A little bit," Blake agrees. She leans into Yang's side as they start walking again, and Yang adjusts, holding herself steady, giving Blake something to lean on. "Are you disappointed in me?" Yang blinks.

"For drinking?" she says, confused. "Of course not. We decided to go to a club. It was kinda implied." Blake mms again. Yang feels the vibrations through her jacket.

"And for leaving?" Blake says. "Are you disappointed in me for that?" Yang exhales slowly, her breath visible in the cold night air.

"Maybe we should talk about this when you're sober," she says. Blake lifts her head from Yang's shoulder, pulling her into eye contact.

"I'm not that drunk," she says, and Yang is inclined to believe her. Blake's gaze is piercing. "We don't have to talk about it, but..." But Blake wants to, and Yang isn't great at saying no to her.

"I wasn't...disappointed," Yang says quietly. She looks away from Blake, up towards the sky. Atlas is too well lit for the stars to be visible, but the moon is as bright and as broken as ever. "I was angry for a bit, and I—I really, really wanted to stay angry. But I couldn't make myself be mad at you forever, so instead I was just...sad. Just sad."

"Are you still?"

Yang looks back down from the sky. Blake is watching her, golden eyes reflecting the streetlights.

"Sometimes." Blake flinches, but Yang keeps their joined arms tight against her side. "I just—I don't do great healing from loss. I don't think I do heal. I'm still mad at Raven. I still miss my mom—Summer, I mean. Everything I lose, it never stops hurting." She clenches her prosthetic fist at her side. "But it's better with you here than not."

"I'll stay," Blake says quietly. "I promised you, and I meant it. I'll stay."

"I know."

"Yang." Blake stops in her tracks, pulling them both to a stop and forcing Yang to look her in the eye. "You know I love you, right?" Yang's heart does a sickening little flip in her chest. She's said that to Blake before, back at Beacon—platonically, or at least, that was what she told herself. She told all her friends she loved them. She still tells them, all the time.

Blake's never said it back in so many words, but still...

"I know," Yang says. Blake stares at her for a moment more. Yang can't move a muscle.

"Good," Blake says finally, and drops her gaze. Suddenly Yang can breathe again, as Blake collapses further into her side. "Do we really have to walk all the way back to the dorms?" Yang huffs half a laugh into the cold night air.

"Unless you feel like sleeping on the streets."

"You'd keep me warm," Blake says, and that throws the tiny bit of equilibrium Yang had regained right off again. They walk in silence for a moment, Blake leaning so heavily on her that Yang might as well be carrying her.

Carrying her. Now there's a thought.

"Hey, Blake?"

"Mm?" Blake mumbles. Yang begins to gently untangle their arms. Blake makes an adorable, unhappy little noise that makes Yang want to sit down on the sidewalk and sob with happiness. Instead, she turns around and squats down a bit, gesturing at her back.

"Hop on," she says. "I'll carry you home." It takes Blake a moment to catch on, but the moment she does, she rests her hands on Yang's shoulders and hops up onto her back. Yang straightens up, easily adjusting to Blake's weight, and begins walking up the sidewalk once more.

Blake falls asleep on the walk home, her arms dangling down over Yang's shoulders, her chin resting in the crook of Yang's neck. Yang walks slower in response, keeping her gait even so as not to disturb Blake's sleep. It isn't like she's about to run out of strength any time soon, and Blake's weight on her back keeps her warm.

#bumbleby #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #rwby #my fics #fic: bumbleby #this one is definitely going on ao3 boyz #so if ur not gonna reblog at least leave a comment Please

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shurisneakers · 3 years

Text

shut in [14]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: anxiety, violence, guns, death, ptsd, swearing, abuse

Word count: 6.3k

A/N: last chapter you guys :’’’’) im too emo about a fanfic i s2g. there’s an epilogue but this is the official last chapter.

i really appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

You had only heard of the warehouse before, never actually seen it.

Its reputation preceded it. It was only mentioned in passing as a place for the worst of the worst.

It was murky and smelled like rust, concrete and rotting corpses. You had no doubt a few of them would be littering the place. A few tube lights shone over you graciously like a spotlight, barely illuminating the area.

The room you were in was utterly silent. The only exception were noises outside the door; loud shouts and clanging of metal. You assumed it to be people in the other rooms. Your assessment on how tight the ropes were coiled around you earned a few grunts and odd squeaks, but nothing major.

You were bound to a chair, of course, with knots you had used before on others. It felt like a convoluted form of irony. It was firmly nailed to the ground to prevent you from using it against captors. You were gagged; pretty well, by the look of it.

A noise from beside you threw you off track. A quick look to your left and you found Sam in a similar predicament. He shook his head slightly, implying that it was useless to find an opening. At least he was alive and breathing.

“Are you done?” A voice came from behind you, echoing within the four walls. “I really want to get going and you’re taking too long.”

You knew who it was. It was impossible for you to mistake it at this point.

“Don’t mind the noise outside. We’re just torturing a bunch of people to death.”

You roll your eyes out of sheer instinct. The footsteps slowly moved towards the front of the room, heavy and deliberate. The expensive material of his suit shone under the light as he edged in front of you. Only he’d wear Armani to a murder.

The dramatic fuck clearly rehearsed it.

“Hey Buttercup,” Ransone smiled, distinctly proud of himself. Your bite on the bundle of cloth haphazardly shoved in your mouth tightened. “Been waitin’ on you for a while now. Wilson’s no good company.”

You sneak a glance at Sam’s side profile and he looks relatively untouched. There were a few cuts on his face that you could make out under the harsh light but that was it.

“You can’t get out of those, if you're wondering.” He gestured to your current set up. “I told you, Sam. I save my warehouse for special guests. All your fun tools are gone. Took ‘em when you were brought in.”

As your eyes adjusted to the lighting, you faintly make out the presence of two men in the corners of the room, stiff as cardboard. His security.

“Oh! Except this.” He brandished the paper airplane you had brought with you in the utility belt. He’d use anything to potentially get a rise out of you.

“Gettin’ sentimental now, are we?” He tested the tip of the plane with his finger.

You prayed he wouldn’t destroy it. It had more value than he was willing to bet on.

“You must be asking yourselves why you ended up here,” Ransone mused, looking at the plane from all angles. “No need to worry, I’ll tell you.”

You didn't expect anything less from him. Everything about this felt cinematic; the inconvenient lighting, the men standing in the corner. This man oozed drama over efficiency.

“When I was just starting out, people warned me. Told me I wasn’t going to get anywhere, that we’d always stay in the same position because that’s how it’s been for all these years.” He tested the plane, holding onto the body sturdily.

“There were too many big names already. We were one of them, of course. My father did a good job of giving us a solid foundation.” He pulled his wrist back like he was going to launch it, only to never actually do it. He carried it through the air, simulating its flight pattern.

“You remember my father, don’t you? The guy who cut off someone’s finger because they didn’t finish the job.” Ransone really only had one story to tell about his father and he worked it to death. Other than a few handful of times, his father never bothered about his presence much from what you heard. He favoured the ones who were brutal and Ransone- well, he was a glorified theatre kid.

“Of course you do. He was an incredible man.” He laughed crisply. “But he had no real ambition. No drive. I told him we could have been at the top, the ones parents warn their kids about. He didn’t listen to me. He never really paid attention.”

His tone got wistful in the end, eyes distant like he was living the scene out in his head.

“So obviously when he died, I had the chance to really make a difference. Really set us apart. Ten Rings and Hydra had their own niche; they had some ties with the military and the government and whatnot. Crazy motherfuckers, all of them.” He shook his dead in distaste. “But Serpentine- that was closer to home. Same market as us.”

You wondered how long he would take to get to the point. The only distraction you had were the noises that continued outside. An odd gunshot here and there really pulled your attention away from the story.

“Serpentine with their stupid code names. They really thought they were all that.” He sounded embarrassingly like a bitchy teenager. “Who do they think they were fooling with the Norse Gods thing, huh? Naming your leader Odin, his wife Frigga.”

“I fucking hated them,” he spat, face twisting into anger. “Told them to watch out, that I’d end their legacy. They laughed in my face.”

He spun around, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he pointed to Sam, “That’s where you come in.”

Sam looked thoroughly irritated with the show that was going on in front of him. If he wasn’t gagged you had no doubt he’d have a few comments to pass. Ones that would get the both of you killed.

“I told you to kill their leader. One job. You fucked that up.” Sam recalling the story of his first mission flashed in your memory. “Let that old nutjob into your head and allowed him to escape. We didn’t know where he was for years.”

“I let it go because I thought Serpentine was done for. Radio silence after Odin disappeared. And they were, until a few years ago when I get news that they have a new leader. Odin’s son, the new heir.” He waved around his hands, mocking the last part of his sentence. “Word on the street was that he wanted to kill whoever murdered his mother in front of his eyes.”

“I thought that was hilarious. You know why?” He laughed humourlessly. “Because that was you. You were the one who killed his mother. You remember that? Your big mission?”

“You killed my mom,” he jeered, unmoving.

“I’m sorry. I had to.” Your voice was quiet. Your hand clutched at the hood of the car to keep your balance. “But I don’t want to hurt you. Go.”

“He wasn’t supposed to be there. No one had even heard of him. His brother’s too soft to take on anything like this. He’s some farmer in England now. But he was supposed to be Odin’s only son. Yet somehow, the only person who could have known this other son existed and actually seen him… was you.”

“Turns out he’s like you. A secret adoption. No record of him anywhere.” You didn’t blink, not once taking your eyes off him in case he decided to go wild. “He should have died that day. You were supposed to kill them.”

Only Ransone would justify killing a kid because it fit his agenda. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done it before, and though he tried very hard to shove his ideology onto you, you never complied.

“Goes by Loki now, another stupid codename. Trained by his father who this idiot let go of.” He gestured to Sam callously, “and mad about the murder of his mother that you committed. Serpentine came back pretty quickly after he took control.”

A particularly loud sound of metal slamming would have made you jump had you not been tied down. Ransone swung around in anger, loudly cursing at them for ruining his train of thought. He muttered some more curses under his breath before plastering a fake smile on his face and continuing.

“I’ll admit, he’s a sneaky one. But they grew faster than any other cartel. They somehow knew all our connections, all our targets, our key players. It wasn’t possible,” he shook his head low as he paced up and down slowly. You knew where this was headed. “Unless we had someone giving them information from the inside.”

He stops to look at you.

“I would have forgiven you, Y/N, I really would. You know how I am about second chances.” He looked at you, eyebrows upturned with regretful eyes. “But then you had to go and spy on me for two years.”

You could see Sam turn to you from the corner of your eye, assessing your reaction. You didn't extend the same courtesy to him. You didn’t have any reaction.

“We found out very late, of course. I taught you well,” he chided, his inescapable narcissism making an appearance once more. “But then we had to figure out why. Why you’d betray me and everything I’ve done for you.”

“I still can’t figure that out.” You wanted to scream at him, everything he had taken away from you, everything he forced you to be. “I treated you the best out of everyone I had. You had the best training, the best resources. You wouldn’t have made it anywhere if I didn’t drag you out of that shithole orphanage.”

You had heard of blissfully ignorant, but he was well beyond that at this point.

“Didn’t take too long to connect the dots. What, with Wilson’s great act of charity and your lack of better judgement, both of you managed to fuck up enough to screw me over years later.”

“I initially was only going to have you killed, Buttercup,” he admitted nonchalantly, like your life had no value. “But then we found out that Sam’s been lying to me for a long time too. Been hidin’ his friend a few states away.”

“It was meant to be,” he cooed. “Such a similar past. You could have met each other before, you know? Pierce wouldn’t be the first time you were at the same house on the same day.”

You couldn’t help but wonder what it would have been like if you had known Sam earlier. Would you have been friends or would you have been forced to kill each other in his sick ‘survival of the fittest’ game?

“It felt poetic to have you both die together, you know? On a mission gone wrong. A full circle.” God, he spent too long planning something elaborate when he could have just put a bullet in your head and ended you the day he found out. Fucking weirdo.

“Made sure I sent you to the same place at the same time. Pierce was dead long before you came, the poor fuck. But then again, collateral damage. No mercy.” He shrugged. “Had everyone at the ready. You should have died that night.”

“But like everything you do,” his voice suddenly rose like a child throwing a tantrum, “you fucked that up for me too. Escaped with his stupid fucking car.”

“None of those useless agents could find you. How could they?” The beauty was that Ransone must have spent too long looking when you were basically right there, just miles away. “You didn’t go to one of our locations and Serpentine hides their safehouses well.”

You still remembered the relief when the door accepted your fingerprint.

It was a long shot but you didn't have anywhere else to go. You weren’t even sure that this house existed.

Another loud crash arrived from the outside with noises that sounded like more gunshots, making Ransone jump this time. Just how many people were being tortured here?

“Keep the volume down, you stupid fucking imbeciles!” he screeched, pounding at the metal door. The decibel reduced, but still continued on.

He dragged his palm across his face in exasperation, talking under his breath to himself. He shook his head before turning back to you.

"Oh, by the way, don't think about escaping. Got every last one of my best agents out here after that stunt you pulled at Pierce’s house,” he says offhandedly.

He takes a second to regroup, get back into character.

“So we released your pictures to the public. Can’t go very far if people are looking for you constantly. It was the only way we could get you to stay in one place.” Ransone raised his shoulders casually. “We had every lowlife out there waiting for one of you to show up.”

“We eventually had someone report Wilson in a town a while away from Pierce. I was making my way there but then you sent me your location on your own. Had men outside your house that night.” He paused, peering at the plane in his hand.

He finally let it go, watching as it barely went any distance before nose diving to the ground. Your eyes trailed after it, hoping he wouldn’t crush it with his foot.

“This is the worst fucking paper plane I’ve ever seen. The balance is completely off.” He stared at it in wonder, picking it up again and shoving it back into his pocket. You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. “Anyway one of them heard you talkin’ about how you’re leaving the next day so we just got ready at the door.”

“Et voila.” He grinned, spreading his arms. “Here we are. Brilliant, wasn’t it?”

Unnecessarily long, but you weren’t going to complain.

“Oh, I forgot you can’t talk.” His mouth quirked downwards into a ‘whoops’.

He took a long pause right in front of you before his hand reached out to cradle your face. “I wouldn’t let those idiots kill you, Buttercup. You deserved better than that.”

He stared unnervingly into your eyes, looking for a hint of anything, any sort of remorse. He wasn’t going to find any. You wished he saw nothing but hatred.

“It’s why I had to kill you myself.” He sighed when you pulled your face away the best you could from his palm in disgust. “But I’ll do you a solid. I’ll give you a chance to beg for forgiveness. Maybe if you’re good enough I’ll let you go.”

You knew he was lying. He had no intention of doing that. He only wanted you to grovel in submission, plead for your life for a fucking power trip.

He ripped off the tape that was over your mouth, making you flinch at the burn. He pulled out the cloth faster than you could spit it out at him.

“Go ahead,” Ransone said smugly. His ego would outlive all of you.

“Him first.” Your mouth was dry and your lips felt chapped. You had clearly been knocked out for a while by then. You had no idea how far away you were from the original location.

“What?” His smile dropped to a frown rather quickly.

“Him first.” You mentioned towards Sam with your head.

“That’s cute.” He laughed, stopping when you didn’t join in. “Oh, you’re serious.”

“I’m not saying shit till he does too.” You were bemused, monotonous. You just wanted to get this over as quickly as possible.

“Fine,” he huffed when your expression didn’t change. “It’d be fun to watch him beg anyway.”

You hear the rip of the tape from his face, the scrunch of the material before he balled it up and threw it on the floor.

Sam shook his head furiously, forcing Ransone to take a step back swiftly before he hit him.

“Right.” Ransone clapped his hands together. “Let’s get star-”

He was interjected by another loud bang followed by a series of gunshots. Another victim massacred. He groaned in frustration, stamping his feet at the constant interruption. The universe was determined to not let him finish his monologue in peace, and for that, you thanked her.

You looked at Sam, nodding slightly. He gave you a small smile in return, calming the nerves you were beginning to feel.

“Where were we?” Ransone did not look happy; a vein was dangerously visible on his forehead. Now would not be the best time to do anything that angered him. “Yes, go ahead. Beg.”

“Ransone,” Sam began, exhaling lightly. “We knew.”

The smile on Ransone’s face faltered. “What did you say?”

“He said we knew,” you cut in. “You melodramatic fuck.”

Ransone’s grin faded abruptly and it was by far the most satisfying experience you had ever experienced.

“Yeah, we figured it out ourselves a while ago.” Sam had the slightest smirk on his face. “Y/N did, actually.”

“Fuck,” you cursed.

You could feel his muscle shift as he looked at you.

“What’s wrong?”

You opened your mouth but shut it again. How do you explain it to him without sounding utterly ridiculous?

“I need to tell you something and I need you to hear me out before saying anything,” you pulled away from him, shuddering at the sudden cold that enveloped you.

“I’m listening.”

“I think it’s Ransone. He’s been trying to kill us.”

“Why?” He didn’t sound judgemental, hardly even fazed, like it was a completely plausible suggestion. You couldn’t express how glad you were.

“The guy you didn't kill, if he’s the old head of Serpentine, then... I know his son.” Your mouth was dry as your mind raced to piece it together. “He’s the one I didn’t kill.”

“What?” Sam’s eyebrows furrowed, and you could see him trying to figure out the connection. “How are you so sure?”

You closed your eyes, letting out a deep exhale. “I’m going to need you to not react to what I’m going to tell you.”

“Okay...” he trailed off.

“I’ve been working with him for two years. Passing information on to him about Ransone.”

“Wait so that means-”

“I’m the spy. And I think Ransone figured it out. He wants to kill me.”

“You knew,” Ransone stated. He looked like he was in a daze.

Sam looked at you once before nodding. “If you would shut up and let someone else talk for once, we would have told you a while ago.”

“It helped that you confirmed details about Pierce’s death without us having to tell you.” The last conversation you had with him replayed in your head verbatim. “There’s no way you would have known he was dead before we got there unless we told you. Or you did it.”

“We knew you had agents outside the house. Kinda expected that when we gave you the address,” you shrugged the best you could, “Sam’s security cameras got all of them.”

“Made sure that one fuck behind the tree could hear us planning outside,” Sam added. “He wasn’t very stealthy, by the way.”

“Have you decided on a day?”

You nod, looking straight ahead into the darkness. “Tomorrow.”

“You sure? Our timing has to be right.”

“Yeah.” Your voice is coarse. “I’ll have to tell him.”

He nodded, leaning his elbows on his knees. He was too tall for the stairs, almost like he was crouching instead of sitting.

His voice dropped to a whisper like it’s a secret only meant for you.

“You knew you were going to be ambushed.”

“No shit.” You nodded.

The loud bangs continued outside the door but you paid no heed to it. The closer it got, the more your stomach jumped, hoping that more people you pissed off didn’t storm in. You had quite a list anyway.

“You knew they were coming,” Ransone appeared like he had gears turning in his own head, trying to add everything up on his own. “Then why didn’t you run?”

“Well, we kinda needed all of you in one place.”

“Huh?” He blinked, not listening to all the commotion that was going on around him. If he didn’t, he was choosing to focus on this instead.

“We had to take out all of you at once,” you disclosed, fidgeting with the rope to see if it would give. “Kinda knew you were waiting to kill us yourself when we gave you the location and nothing happened immediately. You’re too much of a sissy to kill us without backup so we wanted you in one place with the rest of them.”

You tilted your head towards the two men standing in the corner.

“You knew all this while and lied,” Ransone jeered, face twisting into something rather indiscernible; a nice mix of shame and rage.

“Not like we had another choice, man.” You just knew Sam was rolling his eyes. “You think I would voluntarily listen to you monologue like an idiot?”

“You did gag us,” you added, trying to buy as much time as you could. “That’s on you.”

The ropes were still tight as could be and the chair wouldn’t budge. Even your feet were too tightly tied together to do anything. It was what you expected, but that wasn’t going to stop you.

“Shut up!” Ranone’s face was hideously red.

“You rehearsed it, didn’t you?” Sam called out, taunt in his tone. “With the lighting and shit.”

“He doesn’t have to. He does one a week to some poor fuck who has to listen.”

You couldn’t believe the both of you were teaming up to bully a man who literally held the fate of your lives in his hands. It was something you never imagined yourself doing.

“How do people take you seriously?” Sam laughed. More than yours, his remarks seemed to be ticking Ransone off.

Ransone let out a guttural cry, knuckles so white you were afraid they were going to break. He whips around, stomping over to pull the gun from the hand of one of his bodyguards.

“Easy there, DeNiro, that’s not a stage prop.” Sam chided.

The concrete in front of him suddenly cracks loudly. He looked up, slightly taken aback.

“Next time it’ll be your fucking face,” Ransone snarled, waving the gun around like a maniac. You send a cautionary glance to Sam, telling him to back off. Ransone was volatile. He would act without thinking.

“Why did you kill everyone I was friends with, Vincent?” you asked slowly, trying to divert his mind.

He turned to you, a crazed look in his eyes.

“Why did you take everyone from me?” The more you asked, the more it became about genuine curiosity rather than a distraction from shooting Sam in the head.

“Take everyone from- none of them were going to last anyway!” He throws his hands up in the air angrily. “I was saving you from yourself. From the eventual pain.”

His face was desperate, and you for a second forced yourself to think from his perspective. He looked like he truly believed in what he was saying, like he genuinely thought he was supporting you. Like he cared. The thought that maybe he truly wanted to help you was the only way you could comfort yourself for so many years.

“If you were in pain, you wouldn’t perform. I was only pushing you to your full potential,” he continued, a wild smile on his face mixed with eyes rimmed red like he was ready to cry.

Your stomach sank, even though you hated it. It wasn’t about you, it was about what he could get from you.

There was silence. Even the noises outside seemed to have stopped, all waiting for your next move.

“You’re a sick, conniving fuck,” your words waver, and you hope it hits him as hard as it can, “And I can’t wait till you’re dead.”

His face morphed from one of helplessness to slow fury once more. Manipulative prick.

“Do I have to remind you that you’re the one tied up?” He wipes at his nose, voice returning to normal. “The only reason you’re alive right now is because I need to know why you let yourself be captured so willingly.”

Your incessant need to know everything stemmed from him and the paranoia he induced in you from when you were a kid. Everything you thought was wrong about you came from him.

“We told you, you overdramatic fuck.” Sam drew the attention away from you thankfully. You took a deep breath, stabilizing yourself.

“What, that you needed the team in one place to take us out?” Ransone asked, to no one’s answer. “You and what army?”

“Well, the one who’s been here for a while now,” you pipe up.

No one says anything. Pin drop silence reigns free.

“You said he’d be here,” Sam hissed at you. “How much longer do we keep this going?”

“He said he would,” you argued back, feeling the heat creep into your cheeks.

“What the fuck are you both talking about?” Ransone asked, but you continued to ignore him.

“What are we going to do if he-”

The door violently exploded off its hinges, sending debris flying everywhere. You clenched your eyes shut and ducked your head to avoid getting smacked in the face with rubble

The dust hadn’t even cleared before multiple rounds were fired. You flinched when your ringing ears hurt more at the sound of gunshots.

You struggle against your ropes, trying to get to Sam. They only get tighter until suddenly your arms break free. Your neck and legs soon follow as you shrug off the ropes that were cleanly sliced off.

Your ears were still getting used to the chaos when you notice someone humming behind you. It took a second to register that it was a fucking Britney Spears song.

“What took you so long?” You coughed, waving the air in front of you to clear it as you stumbled towards Sam.

“I wanted to make an entrance,” Loki said dismissively, following you. “I think I may have overshot it by a few seconds.”

You fell to your knees in front of Sam, quickly moving to untie the familiar knots. He lifted his head to look at you, a thin layer of dust covering his face.

“Are you okay?” you asked in concern, simultaneously untying as fast as you could. It was one you had used many times before; a complicated knot that guaranteed you wouldn’t have been able to make it out of the bondage.

“I think my leg’s asleep but other than that I’m good.”

You give him a small smile, thankful that he wasn’t hurt enough to lose his dry sense of humour. Your hand involuntarily reached up to brush some dust off his cheekbone. The intensity with which he looked at you had you swallowing thickly.

You snapped out of it quickly, working on freeing his legs as Loki took a step behind his chair to cut the rest of him loose.

“This him?” Sam mentioned to Loki, massaging his wrist to return some feeling into it.

“You can just ask me, you know,” Loki commented, but clearly not taking any offence.

“I’m sorry about your family, man.”

You didn’t expect Sam to say that, and from the looks of it, neither did Loki. He stopped for a moment, before continuing to cut the last rope.

“You let my father go,” he said, sawing the last part off, “and although I personally think you should have killed the miserable old bastard, he made it clear that he owed you one.”

The both of you stood up. You glanced around the room, noting how both of Ransone’s bodyguards were on the floor, bullet holes riddling their body.

He himself was beside them, lying facefront on the ground. Armani suit be damned.

“How many more are outside?” Sam asked, tearing your attention away from the bodies on the floor.

“All taken care of.” Loki put the knife back into its sheath on his thigh. “We made quite a commotion. I’m surprised he didn’t do anything.”

“He’s a little dense,” Sam remarked. Most of the noises you heard earlier weren’t just other victims being tortured, although you knew that it was still a large fraction of it.

“Should we go?” you asked, doing a quick sweep of the room. You found nothing moving among the pile of rubble.

“Unless you got anything else left to do.” Loki gestured to the large hole in the wall where the door was.

“I think we’re done.”

He simply nodded, spinning on his heel to walk out the room when someone yelled from behind you.

You all halted what you were doing, slowly turning to look at where the noise was coming from.

“Don’t take another step,” Ransone warned, a gun pointed straight at you, barely able to stand straight. He looked worse than you’d ever seen him. His suit was torn and he had a few streaks of blood down his face. His hair was tousled and unkempt, rougher than it had ever been before. “Or I swear I’ll-”

“Oh, shut up,” Loki interjected, firing a shot into Ransone’s stomach before anyone could even react. He returned the gun to its holster that you didn’t even notice was there on his waist. “He talks too much.”

Ransone staggered back until he hit the wall, knees buckling beneath his weight as he slid to the ground. The gun he pried off his bodyguards lay where he was standing previously.

You ignored Sam’s uneasy questions as you took a step forward.

You picked the gun up, cautiously making your way to Ransone. You crouched next to his body. He looked at you before looking down. You followed his line of sight, watching as he lifted his hands. They were covered in blood.

“How’d he know where to find you?” Ransone’s voice was more subdued than you’d ever heard him.

You reached over, slipping your fingers into his jacket pocket and pulled out the paper airplane that was flattened due to the impact.

“Hey, you can put a message in it. Maybe one of those button trackers, a microphone. The possibilities are endless.” He laughed, folding another one out of the limited supply of paper he had left.

You unfolded it, letting a small object, not bigger than a button, fall into your palm. He stared at it before realisation dawned on him.

“I knew you’d take all my weapons, but you wouldn’t get rid of this,” you disclosed, folding the paper plane back to what it was and gently putting it into your pocket. It was still salvageable. “Not if you could use it to hurt me.”

You watched him take a shaky breath, flinching when more blood rushed out of him.

“You can still help me, Y/N. We can get out of here together,” he rasped. “Think about everything we’ve been through. We can work it out. I love you.”

You involuntarily let out a strangled cry at the last part. It was nothing but a last ditch attempt to persuade you, pull you back in.

“Look- look at me. Buttercup,” he croaked when you wouldn’t oblige. “I love you. I’m your home.”

You finally look at him. Look right into his eyes, red rimmed and fading. You look for it, the adoration he spoke of. The care he promised. Anything to make sense of why he would tear you apart time and time again. The love he had for you.

You find nothing. Gray eyes look back at you blankly, desperately, in pain.

“You never were,” you whisper, standing up abruptly.

You raised your arm, pointing the gun at him. He sputtered out more half baked apologies, unaware of anything that was coming out of his own mouth.

You clench your eyes shut, pulling the trigger. He lets out a cry when the bullet lodges in his shoulder.

You take a step back, letting the scene imprint itself in your brain of him powerless on the ground at your will. If you followed what he preached, you’d have ended his life right there. No mercy.

But you weren’t him. And you didn’t ever want to be.

“I need to do something too,” you heard Sam say. You can feel him near you, brushing against you for a moment as he gently reached for the gun you held. You gave it to him, feeling him squeeze your hand in reassurance.

Ransone looked at Sam as he stood beside you. He fired a single shot into his leg, clearly hitting bone. You hear the same wail from before, mixed with sputtering as blood leaked from his mouth.

“That was from Riley. He says fuck you.” Sam let his hand fall again. “All yours, man.”

“You already know what this is for,” Loki said simply.

You chose not to look away as he shot the last round right into his forehead. Ransone’s head slumped over. Dead, glassy eyes stared beyond you.

None of you say anything. Just stare at the lifeless body in front of you.

“It’s really over, huh?” Sam’s voice is quiet, like he's having trouble processing what just happened.

You don’t answer. Only take a step towards him, and intertwine your fingers with his, continuing to stare at the corpse of your lifelong abuser.

____

The sun was beating down on you. You didn’t expect it to be evening when you stepped out of the warehouse.

“Where are we?” you asked, shielding your eyes from the sudden brightness that left you squinting.

“Middle of nowhere, I’d say.” Loki stares with disdain at the old building that looked worse for wear. “Would it kill the man to have a bit of taste?”

That reminded you. “Thanks for the house. And… sorry we showed up uninvited.”

“You didn’t do too much damage to it, I hope.”

You looked at him guiltily, mind flashing to the many bullet holes that decorated the back wall. “I’ll pay for the repairs.”

“Forget it. It’s of no use since everyone knows it exists now.” He dismissed with a wave of his hand. “So, Y/N. I guess that concludes our deal?”

“I guess it does.” You nodded,

Sam wraps his arms around your shoulder and you lean into him with a sigh, allowing the comfort his touch brought to seep into you.

“How’d you guys make a deal anyway?” he inquired. You closed your eyes, chest rising and falling steadily.

“Well, I was going to kill you at first,” Loki explained offhandedly, gesturing to you. “But then-”

He trailed off.

You remember, clear as day, when Loki confronted you in the early hours of the morning outside the park you went on runs. He had a gun pulled on you before you could fathom what was going on, before you could even realise who he was.

“But then?” Sam prodded.

“Did he make it?”

“He did,” you divulged the information you had found out a while ago. It was a messy confrontation to say the least but you got out unscathed.

“Saw something that I recognised,” he said dryly, eyeing you up and down. “We were both pulled into something we didn’t have a say in. Stuck, you could say. I just thought that it was a win-win situation if we worked together to kill that idiot back there.”

“So you agreed to spy on him,” Sam concluded. “You got revenge. What was your incentive?”

You look at Loki who just smiled at you. You return one half heartedly.

“I’d say freedom is a pretty big reward, wouldn’t you?” And it was. You couldn’t even begin to explain the weight that would be lifted off your shoulders. “I can’t guarantee you’ll have a perfectly normal life. Might have to change your identity, move around a bit.”

“Everyone’s looking for us as wanted criminals,” Sam voiced everything you were forgetting about in the surge of emotions rushing through you.

“I got some connections,” Loki said dismissively. You peered at him from under Sam's arm. “I can have it traced back to a dead mobster in a warehouse, no problem. If they think it’s a gang war there’s no way they’ll try to get too involved. Consider it a gift from my father.”

Sam nodded, relaxing slightly now that most things were taken care of.

“That’s sorted then.” Loki examined the barren land that surrounded you. “You’re going to need a ride back to civilization, aren’t you?”

“If that’s possible.”

“I’ll have someone drop you off. You got any place to go? At least to stay low for a while.”

You didn’t have anyone. The only one you had was the man beside you. Nothing was settling in at the moment, and you realised that it would be a long road until it did. But you had a shot. A real shot at something even resembling recovery.

Sam and you looked at each other before he turned back to Loki and nodded.

“New Orleans.”

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