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pyxisblue · 4 years

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I’m Home

This is what could’ve been if Sakuya never had a chance at his dream.

|| A3!: Sakuya Sakuma // Angst: accident, family seclusion

Growing up in different households, even if they’re his relatives, Sakuya couldn’t help but feel...unwanted. For so long, he never felt he was ever part of the families he lived with despite the fact that they have some blood relations.

But family is not about being connected by blood. Sakuya learned that the hard way.

Nobody truly cared or even tried to form a deep connection with him; hence, he was passed to any household who’d take him up for the sake of family obligation.

This time, he’s with an aunt who couldn’t even subtly express her disdain for having another mouth to feed in her house, even though she lived alone.

He never asked nor begged anyone to take him under their wing, and if he’s to be asked, he’d rather be left to himself to fend for his own. But his relatives wouldn’t even allow that, saying something about being held responsible if he’s found dying on the streets.

The cherry-haired young man stepped out of the house just as his aunt went on a rant about how useless he is and how he should be thankful for whatever she’s putting up with him. This day, he resolved to find a part-time job, thinking it’s the only way she wouldn’t treat him as a burden at least.

As he strolled down the street of Veludo Way to check posters of job openings, he happened to pass by a dilapidated theater building.

“Mka” it said, with some letters missing in its big signage above the entrance.

A torn paper of what seemed to be an audition poster was posted on its board outside. Sakuya gave it a downhearted glance. He imagined what the building could’ve looked like back then if he ever saw it before its ruin. Maybe he would’ve pursued his dream of being a stage actor if fate has brought him here earlier. But that’s only wishful thinking now. It’s no use hoping for it when obviously, the theater already met its end.

He was about to step away when he noticed the door was ajar. Curiosity got the best of him, and maybe his desire to see an actual theater had taken over, that he found himself stepping inside even though it spelled trouble.

The young man’s eyes grew wide as he indulged in the view of the theater hall. Despite looking old and rundown outside, the hall looked well-kept even with a few cracks on the walls and the worn-out fabric of the seats. Overall, it seemed like it can still be operational.

Why would anyone abandon the place?

“Hey, kid. You’re not supposed to be here.” Sakuya almost jumped out of where he was standing when a voice suddenly echoed behind him. A blonde man wearing a pair of eyeglasses with a black coat was staring at him with threat.

That should be the cue to leave. But somehow, Sakuya didn’t want to.

“Leave now. We’ll be tearing this place apart in a few minutes. We don’t want any casualty in the process.”

He should just nod, leave, and forever forget this place as he move on with his life. He has no business being here anyway. Besides, he already got a look of the place he longed to see even in his dreams.

But why?

Why did his heart feel heavy at the thought of stepping out of here just before it’s about to be torn down?

This is the first time he saw the place.

Why did it feel like he knew it forever?

“What are you still doing there? Get out of here, or I’ll drag you out myself,” the man in black started to get really scary as his patience grew thin. But Sakuya had this determination to stay, something he couldn’t explain.

“The show must go on.” There was a whisper in the back of his mind. Wherever it came from, at this moment, he wanted to hold on to it because if he didn’t, he felt like he would lose something important, even though he didn’t know what.

“Uhm. Can I stay for just a few minutes?” He said timidly, still couldn’t point a finger as to what it is he was feeling.

“Huh?” This time, the man threw him a menacing glare. He was about to stomp his way towards him when Sakuya blurted out...

“It was my dream to become an actor.”

The older man halted on his tracks with surprise on his face. But it wasn’t long until it was replaced with a grim expression.

“Well, you’re many years late, kid. Maybe if you got here before it went down, then you might’ve had a chance,” the blonde man spoke in disdain, the regret in his voice sounding more of his own than for the younger one.

Sakuya could see the sadness in the man’s purple eyes through his glasses. He got the feeling that this person didn’t want to let this theater go either, but for some reason, he was the one to tear it down. His heart felt heavier.

“I’m sorry. I just want to experience standing on the stage even if it’s just for a short time,” he gave his best sunny smile to him. “I promise after that, I’ll leave.”

The blonde guy frowned at him for a few minutes then turned on his heel before saying, “Ten minutes. If you’re not out before that, I’ll tear this building down with you in it.”

Relief washed over the young man. He smiled to himself, feeling a bit giddy to have the place even for just another few minutes. He stepped down to the stage area with haste.

Before climbing up, he took in the view of the stage from the audience seat. Scenes of what it could look like during plays came to him, and somehow, they were plays with him in it.

He downplayed the thoughts as part of his wishful thinking, imagining it would’ve been like that if he joined a troupe.

Unable to contain his excitement, he helped himself up and stood at the center of the stage. With the dusty side curtain tied, he could see the full view of what actors see during their plays.

An overwhelming feeling of sadness came over him. Tears ran down his face as a ghost of a full-house audience replaced the empty worn-out seats.

“This must’ve what it felt like to act on this stage,” he thought to himself.

But it wasn’t just that. There was also this longing, this feeling of missing something he always had, lingering in his heart. Sakuya couldn’t figure out why the place felt so familiar.

Did his desires and wishes manifest as a reality within him that his heart couldn’t distinguish whether they’re real or not?

He tried wiping the tears away, but the stream just couldn’t stop.

“Let’s go on a journey together, Julius!” An image of him in a royal suit with a red cape appeared beside him, looking at someone he couldn’t see. “We can ditch this cramped town and travel the world together!” This version of him carried the lines with confidence and emotions, acting a little bit clumsy but trained.

Sakuya’s lips formed another smile. It was nice to see his self living the dream even if it’s just a daydream. But it bothered him that he wasn’t even familiar with this play he was imagining.

Julius? What character is Julius?

“Romeo, you’ve got the brawn, and I’ve got the brain,” a different voice resounded from the opposite side, and it scared Sakuya when he found no one there. But it didn’t stop, “If we put our heads together, we can do anything.”

Romeo? Was this some story based on Romeo and Juliet?

But who was this other person in his make-believe play? He gulped as he felt a little creeped out. Was this place haunted?

“Romeo? Romeo Montague?” There was an evident surprise in this unknown voice. A man in another royal suit with a blue cape appeared on his left, a person he’d never seen before.

“Forsake your house and name, Julius! Because we have even grander dream to share!”

As he thought, this was based on Shakespeare’s infamous play. The lines were a bit familiar, but he didn’t know what this Julius character was. Was he coming up with random story as he imagine himself in the stage?

“I can’t. I can’t forsake my family,” the guy in blue spoke with a convincing sadness.

Sakuya couldn’t take his eyes off the scenes unfolding right before him. It was like his imagination took off on its own and made an entire play to show him.

He could see himself interacting and exchanging lines with people he hadn’t met. This black-haired guy in blue seemed to be a co-lead. There was also this brown-haired one who acted as Mercutio, his supposed childhood friend, then, a different blonde man acting as Tybalt, brother of the other lead. A priest also appeared, someone who looked like a foreigner.

Clueless as to what was really happening, he watched as the play went on like he wasn’t on the stage. They sometimes went through him like he was the invisible one. It also occurred to him that somehow, Juliet’s character was turned into Julius and that the story was a different take of the popular classic.

His mind still couldn’t process what was going on, whether this was just a dream or a borderline illusion, when another play begun. This time, he was wearing a cat costume and was talking to the same guy in blue who is now called Alex.

Was this Alice in Wonderland but with a male protagonist?

The scenes seemed to fast-forward as everything moved in thrice the speed of time. Eventually, another set of faces entered, none he could recognize, and somehow, he saw himself watching in the backstage area with glee.

The speed of events went another notch that he couldn’t keep up anymore. They played as if they were his memories, playing in hasty flashbacks.

Terrified of the peculiar phenomenon, he unconsciously stepped back from it, wanting to get away, until he found himself falling from the stage.

But instead of meeting the ground, he fell into an abyss of darkness.

It was an endless pit of pitch black. Sakuya thought this must be the end of him. This nightmare must be him finally dying under the rubbles of the theater being destroyed after his time was up without him realizing.

As he was being pulled down to whoever-knows-where, flashing scenes appeared on his sides, showing moments of a life he never had: him dragging the same guy he was with in the play to school; him saying “I’m home” with a wide smile as he was welcomed with a lot of people smiling back to him, telling him “Welcome Home”; him reading a script in a practice room with other people exchanging lines with him; him talking to three other guys in a living room like they were discussing something important; and there was him, talking to a woman who looked at him with pride and fondness.

They were faces that felt so close to his heart, but he still couldn’t quite put a finger on it.

It was like he was with them forever, and not with the relatives that never wanted him.

It was like, with these unfamiliar strangers... he was at home.

Home.

It’s a word someone can describe as a place where family is.

But in his case, ‘family’ was not even what he has right now.

There was a pang in his chest as the scenes of this other life continuously played around him. He was falling into this loop of memories he knew he didn’t have but showed how he was a big part of.

The pain in his heart had made his tears ran again.

The thought of not having the memory of being in them made his heart drop faster than he was into this never-ending hole.

An unexplainable emptiness spread within him. A desire of having these illusionary moments become real bloomed in his heart.

He wished and hoped they were all real...

That in the real life, he has a family to return to... a home.

His eyes shut closed as he tried to whisper a silent prayer...

A prayer that was answered as he opened his eyes.

When he lifted his heavy eyelids, his vision opened to a white ceiling. Everything was still blurry, and he couldn’t seem to move his body. He could hear a repeating loud “teet” sound somewhere, but his senses were still disoriented. An oxygen mask was covering his nose and mouth which made his heavy breathing easier.

“What happened?” was what he wanted to ask, but no one was around to answer.

He tried to rack his brain to get a clue. However, he could only remember the part where he was falling into a black hole. The trail of dried tears on his cheeks was evidence of the nightmare, but it told no tale of how he ended up motionless in bed.

The door swung open, revealing one of the persons he saw in those flashing memories. She was struck with surprise and halted in her place, still holding the door knob.

“S-Sakuya-kun. You’re awake!”

The brown-haired woman approached him with haste. He felt the warmth of her hands through his as tears started forming in her eyes.

“I thought...” Her words were followed with a quiet sob, his hand held to her forehead.

Another person came in, seemingly in a rush after hearing her exclaim. It was the same man in eyeglasses who told him to leave the theater in his dreams.

“Sakyo-san, he’s awake,” she said smiling while her tears continued to stream.

His expression was far from the same threatening one Sakuya remembered. This person has a relieved smile that it almost seemed he’s about to cry as well when he approached the woman by the bedside.

“Stop crying now. You’re going to scare him,” he said in a soft tone, patting her back gently.

“It’s just that... I’m happy,” she said after wiping the last of her tears. A wide smile formed in her face in contrast of her swollen eyes, “Welcome back, Sakuya-kun.”

Despite his difficulty to move, he used all his might to open his lips and said, “I’m home... director.”

And it was in that moment when he really felt he’s back at home, where he belong.

After that, the people he met in his surreal dream appeared in his hospital room with food, gifts, and objects that would keep him occupied.

His troupemates were the first and came the others on the succeeding days. Izumi made it her role to be his guardian and was always staying in the room to take care of his needs. Sometimes, Sakyo, or Sakoda, came in so that the director could rest. Tsuzuru often dropped by from work to see how he was recovering. Citron was always telling him adventurous stories like he used to. Chikage continued their daily coin toss. Itaru introduced him some games he can play for whenever he’s bored. Masumi didn’t usually come by due to his busy university life, but when he did, he brought him books. He even gave his troupe leader a headset to use, so he can listen to music as he waited for the day when he’s finally discharged.

Even though everyone showed how happy they were that he was finally awake, it didn’t slip past him that they were completely devastated when they found out he was in an accident. It was a whole three months for them, waiting and hoping he would come out of his comatose state. Summer, Autumn, and Winter plays went by and everyone, especially his troupe members, were dreading they had to do a Spring play where he won’t be able to appear.

The thought of them having a play without him made Sakuya feel like he was pulled back to his nightmare, to the world where he didn’t join the troupe and witnessed the Mankai Theater’s end, to a life where he didn’t have anywhere to belong.

It gave him an anxious feeling of losing the place where he finally found home. This reality he woke up to was very pleasant: he’s living his dream as an actor, he’s part of a company he can call his family, and the place where everybody is waiting for him to return to is what he could call home. But to lose all of these...

He stared at his hand, sitting on the white bed as the passing raindrops casted shadows over it.

It still felt surreal for him, that he’s here, and the fear of waking up to another reality came along with it.

What if he wakes up again and he finds himself back in that life without all of these precious people?

“Sakuya-kun?” Izumi’s voice brought him back to his senses, and an automatic smile appeared on his face in an attempt to not make her worry, but the director didn’t miss the sad look he had, “Is something bothering you?”

He stared at his hand again, afraid he’d start disappearing if this was another illusionary dream, and then looked back at her concerned face.

The young man started pouring his heart out, telling her about his nightmare and his anxieties. The director sat beside him and listened attentively.

“It must be silly of me, but I feel like everything could disappear in the next second,” the dark sky outside the window seemed to also loom over his heart.

“It’s not silly. You know, that’s how we felt when we found out about the accident,” his head whipped to her direction, but her eyes were already set on the depressing scene beyond the window, “It felt like we took your presence for granted.”

Sakuya could feel her words heavy with regret. He wanted to tell her how he felt loved and cared for with them, but he wanted to hear more of what she had to say.

“We were used to having you around, smiling brightly, and working hard like you always do. But when the days passed by and you weren’t around because you weren’t waking up, we couldn’t help but recall the days when you were. We didn’t know until then that we could lose someone that easily in the next second. Everyone tried to go on normally, but none of us couldn’t hide the worries and fears we had if ever you...” Her voice cracked, and her fists clenched over her lap with frustration.

If she was his aunt or one of his relatives, she wouldn’t feel this way. They wouldn’t even glance his way if he ever died. To them, it would be a relief of burden from their shoulders.

“Thank you, director.” Sakuya wore his usually bright smile which caught Izumi by surprised. It was the smile they all missed to see.

“No. Thank you, Sakuya-kun, for coming back to us.”

“Of course I came back! You are my family, after all,” the happiness he felt spread to the director, chasing all the fears she had. Relief came like a calming breeze to embrace her heart, reminding her that finally, Sakuya was back and well.

With a light heart, Sakuya counted the days until he was finally back to the dorm. On that day, when they arrived, Sakyo parked the car while Izumi accompanied him to get inside.

Once he stepped in the door, there was a loud pop in the darkness and suddenly, streamers flew in the air as the lights were turned back on. Everyone was there in the entrance to shout, “Welcome home, Sakuya!”

The scene made him tear up. He had this overwhelming emotion with the warmth of welcome spreading through his chest.

“Ah. This is what family is,” he told himself as he looked at the smiles on the faces of the people who are all part of his family.

Before anyone starts to worry, he rushed to wipe his tears with his long sleeve. Then, he met them with a beaming smile and proudly said, “I’m home!”

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I thought of this while I was listening to Avril Lavigne’s Innocence and Taylor Swift’s Innocent. Both reminded me of Sakuya. This was supposed to be just angst, but I don’t want a tragic end for the boy who deserved everything. ;_;

I’m glad I was able to turn it around.

Also, I used this as an entry to #a3enfirst event facilitated by the Twt account @a3anniversary, with the concept “found family”.

Hope you enjoy~

#a3! sakuya #sakuya sakuma #a3 fanfiction #a3 angst #a3!#a3 #a3enfirst #found family

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papipopsicle · 4 years

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DOUBLE DARE

Pairing: Billy Hargrove X Harrington!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Summary: In which Billy isn't 'King Billy fucking Hargrove' after the events at the Byers house, he's remorseful and in so much more pain than anyone ever seems to notice.

Song: Dizzy by Waterparks

Warnings: swearing, symptoms of PTSD

Words: 2.8K

feedback is always appreciated

Hawkins wasn't the kind of place a teen could take angsty strolls, look up at the sky for a while and all their life problems would be solved. Winter lasted until February, and summer started at the end of July, the months between left void of the joy of sun or snow. It was within this time that Y/N and Billy found solace in each other's chaotic existences.

They'd met a couple times before their relationship had a label, once not knowing each other, and the next, knowing too much.

The first was in the bitter winds of a November night. Y/N Harrington was forced to transfer to Hawkins High after fighting with another girl at Lakewood Academy over something nobody knew. She wasn't happy about it, after working her arse off for the last seventeen years of her life, only for the dream to be someone special and someone her parents would be proud of, to be ripped away from her.

Steve never made it any better, it was fine when he'd bring home random girls while their parents were away (which was more often than not), at least then her record player was loud enough to shut out the moans.

But Nancy had to come along and fuck everything up. Y/N was sickened at the idea of her brother dating her childhood best friend. That wasn't even the worst part though, the sick fucker had to go break his heart too.

Having Steve wallow in self pity for a few days was one thing, but hearing him cry himself to sleep days on end was entirely another.

She took her eye off the ball to make sure it was a sound that never met her ears again. And people at Lakewood began to talk, next thing she knew, Y/N was thrown out when Bethany Wyatt somehow fell unconscious and woke up with a black eye and busted lip.

Her older brother was surprisingly comforting, but the house felt all too suffocating, even without their never-to-be-seen parents around. It took six days for her to finally snap- being cooped up in the same four walls, sappy romcoms playing in the background whilst Steve tried to shrink her after getting an 'A' on his latest psychology paper.

"Leave me the fuck alone, for Christ's sake I'm not one of those kids you babysit! Go piss in Declan's cereal." Y/N roared, cartoon steam clouds escaping her ears.

She and Steve weren't close like some siblings, they didn't do hugs or say 'I love you'. They clashed and fought; the older boy thinking he's always right and that he knows everything, only setting off Y/N's explosive anger.

Steve groaned and stormed up the stairs, following his sister to her room, "His name's Dustin- fuck! You're so immature, you know that? Maybe I do need to babysit you, maybe then you'll learn to accept that you're sad about being kicked out of Lakewood, instead of biting my head off like a little bitch."

Y/N looked up at him incredulously, as if he'd just killed six puppies. She got up from her bed and stood right in front of him, pressing her index finger against his chest accusatory, "I'm not sad, dickwad, I'm furious because I defended myself against a bully and I'm the one who gets punished. It's not my fault she learnt to fight with her words and I fight with my fists. It's not my fault I'm like this, Steve!"

He stared at her for a few moments, watching his little sister's entire body move as her breathing became laboured and heavy.

She pushed past her brother and ran downstairs, "If I'm not back before you wake up, the demogorgon attacked me!"

"That's not-." Steve shouted, only to hear the front door slam shut halfway through his sentence, "funny."

It had been three months since Eleven had returned and saved Hawkins for the second time, Y/N knew they were no longer out there. She also knew it would strike a nerve in her brothers damaged soul and in that moment it was exactly what she wanted. The Harrington girl would probably regret it when she arrived back home in the early hours, knock on Steve's door and he'd tell her he was the one out of line and that it was okay. After all, he was the reason behind why she got expelled.

Y/N found herself running towards the school. In her short pleated skirt, fishnets and combat boots, the girl sprinted all the way through the woods until she found a clearing, and began walking on the side of the road. She should've been terrified to be out in the darkness all alone after the sights that had scarred her eyes, but it calmed her disturbed mind. Her problems faded to insignificance at the idea of being attacked by an inter-dimensional monster.

Her anger had dissipated after an hour or two of strolling back up and down, and she finally began to feel at ease in the cool midnight winds. That's when the sound of a turbocharged engine collapsed her serenity. She turned on her heel, letting the asphalt crunch under her foot as she squinted into the oncoming headlights.

Numbness had spread far enough over her body not to care whether the driver was Steve, a total stranger, or maybe even a creature from the upside down ready to kill her. Y/N shrugged it off and continued wandering, moving into the forest clearing so the muscle car didn't hit her if the driver wasn't paying enough attention.

Her steps became hurried as she heard the engine quieten, gaze kept forwards until the car picked up enough speed to pass her then completely stop. The air in her lungs felt trapped, feet planted to the broken up edge of the road.

"Hey!" A young yet deep male voice called, a mop of gentle dirty blonde curls appearing over the roof as the sound of the metal door opening and shutting cut away at the silence Y/N found herself stuck in. She didn't dare to move, eyes wide in a hazy mix of fear and intrigue.

He began moving around the car, closer to her frozen figure and stopping at what he deemed a safe distance. Billy looked her up and down, not in his usual 'I wanna fuck you' way towards the opposite sex; he checked over every inch of her exposed skin to make sure there were no signs of injury. When he finally met her eyes, he was stunned. They were the colour of milk chocolate edged with a deep forest-green. The two colors seemed to swirl together like moss creeping over rich soil.

Beautiful, he thought, not noticing the deep violet bags which sat beneath them. Y/N hated her eyes for them, yet they hadn't crossed his mind.

"Are you okay, Bambi?" Billy asked cautiously, taking a small step closer to her. His voice felt soft like a warm hug, yet she knew how it could easily be laced with venom. She'd seen his type before, knew how they could act so smooth then at the flick a switch be encased by rage if the word 'no' was introduced to them. She'd dated that type, been manipulated by their silver tongue and soft touch.

"I'm fine." Y/N's voice found the courage to speak, her body pushing past his and continuing its disassociated roam down the empty road ahead. She didn't feel like speaking to anyone, didn't feel like doing anything. Her mind was a wormhole of desolation and all she wanted was some peace away from home life and school life.

"If you want me to get in my car and carry on, I can. But, chances are you're feeling alone and don't-" Billy tried his best to do what he thought was right, he didn't have to stop when he saw her shivering figure at the side of the empty road. Hell, he probably shouldn't have.

"What you do doesn't really affect me, kid." Y/N snarled with no enthusiasm, her words falling hollow and getting lost in the wind.

The girl noticed he didn't speak after that, yet she hadn't heard the distinct sound of a car door opening and shutting either. She turned her head a fraction, not wanting to give him the attention he seemingly so desperately wanted from her but interested to know if she was about to get killed. Y/N rolled her eyes irritably as his taller figure appeared beside her own.

A few minutes passed as they ambled along the never ending barren road side by side without a word exchanged. Y/N felt oddly comfortable, more so than she did in that stupid private school or at home with Steve in constant seldom silence or rage filled bickering.

This silence was pleasant and held no secrets. Mostly due to the fact they were perfect strangers, no lingering expectations to be great or even good. Y/N stole another glance at him through the dark moonlight, his thick shoulder length hair appearing soft in its naturally curly state, and his flawlessly chiselled face hidden by plump cheeks and long eyelashes.

He could've committed some kind of atrocity for all she knew, but is company felt comforting and she wasn't one to judge.

"D'you just plan on following me around all night, then?" Y/N's voice sounded much more mellowed and velvety, her heartbeat no longer erratic in her ears allowing her mind some peace.

Billy sighed and rubbed a hand across his face before stuffing both into the pockets of his denim jacket to find some kind of warmth, "Haven't exactly planned that far ahead, gotta be honest with you. I don't know, I just needed to clear my head, and it seemed like you were doing the same."

"You could say that." Y/N scoffed, her numb mind somehow still managing to make her legs move forwards without stumbling. The biting cold air pricked at her paled skin, but she enjoyed the feeling. It was better than feeling nothing at all. "Fucked up shit happens a lot considering nothing happens around here."

"Did someone hurt you?" The words filled with unease tumbled from his mouth before he had the chance to catch them. Billy couldn't tell himself why he cared, why he was still walking along side this stranger in the dead of night on a Tuesday. Wednesday, now. But after the events at Mrs Byers' house, he had realised he'd become the monster he feared most- his father. If there was anything he could do to stop that, it was all he had done for the past three months.

Y/N smiled at her own stupid actions coming back to the forefront of her memories. She shook her head, still smiling, "That's too complicated to answer right now. Unfortunately, I managed to fuck things up pretty bad all on my own this time."

"I'm listening." Billy's eyes wandered across the unending tree border as he let the girl gather her thoughts and decide whether to indulge him or not.

She did.

"A couple weeks ago I overheard some skanks from my school trash talking my family; you see my brother slept with this girl named Rosie once ages ago so she put herself on a pedestal and thinks her words are gospel now. She was joking with her friends about how we're basically orphans. And then, this is the real kicker, she made up a rumour saying I'd got crabs from sleeping with the gym teacher. Which is hilarious because I'm a virgin still. So, I confronted her, she denied it, and I may or may not have blacked out and beat the living daylights out of her. Last week the dean decided to kick me out, so as of next Monday I'll be back at the shit show they call Hawkins High."

It felt easy to spill her thoughts to this oddly handsome person she'd never met before. Y/N felt like adding, 'oh and there's supernatural demons running around trying to take you to another dimension and kill you, but don't worry, our telekinetic friend saved us. Twice.' But she liked him enough in that moment not to want to scare him away.

"I would've hit her, too." Billy chuckled dryly, realising this girl was stronger than she seemed. His voice picked up after a beat of silence, "Billy, by the way."

"Y/N." She smiled her first warm, genuine smile for a rather long time, and it felt strange and satisfying all at once. Silence fell upon them once again after that, not feeling unpleasant in the slightest. They walked side by side with no destination in mind, Y/N's body bumping against his every now and again. The fist time was an accident, after that she kept on doing it to see the small smile pull at the corners of his lips from the contact.

Her combat boots halted on the torn up asphalt, kicking up small stones a few feet across the road. Without indication to her newfound friend, she switched direction and began walking back towards the other end of the endless road back towards Hawkins away from Lakewood.

"Alright then." Billy quirked an eyebrow at her odd behaviour as he followed and fell back into aimless step with her.

"Billy," she enjoyed the way his name rolled off her tongue, "could you drive me home?" She looked up at him with hope in her eyes, half feigned half real. Y/N was a shell of a person, broken and cold after what her eyes had witnessed, but she really liked the way her mind felt at ease around this boy with fluffy hair and muscular arms.

"Sure."

They made their way up to the car in silence, time running by much quicker with Y/N's spirits lifted. Billy unlocked his Camaro and the two settled into their seats, the heater almost instantly turned up to the highest setting.

"Where are you from, Billy?" Y/N couldn't help herself but ask, she had a knack for wanted to know everything and managing to know everything one way or another. She enjoyed the ever so slight accent in his voice, certainly not from these parts. His olive skin, probably once a lot more tanned and bright, gave it away too. Nobody here got enough vitamin D to look that pretty.

She told him to take the next turning, filling the space his answer was about to fall into. Y/N noticed the sounds of AC/DC playing quietly, one of her all time favourite songs. Steve would buy their albums and she'd buy Madonna when they visited the mall together, then swap when they got back to his car.

"California, my dad remarried and they both wanted a new start, so we ended up here." Billy answered calmly, voice tinged with anguish. The girl gave him another direction and told him to pull up two houses down from her own.

"If my brother saw someone giving me a lift home I think he'd murder you then me, so for everyone's safety it's best not to let him in on our little secret." Y/N grinned halfheartedly up at Billy, realising Steve wouldn't have gone to sleep yet and it was her fault. He was a real dick sometimes, but she wondered if he was the only person in the world to actually give a shit about her.

"Sounds like a real buzzkill." Billy joked with an unknown lightness to his tone, turning the ignition off and settling his gaze on her devastatingly brilliant eyes again.

Y/N nodded and leant over the centre console, wrapping her arms around Billy's much larger torso, he didn't react for a moment, not entirely sure what was happening, but he eventually returned the hug.

"Thanks for stopping earlier, tonight would've been a lot more lonely if you hadn't." Y/N unclasped her seatbelt and unlocked the door, sending the boy a truly heartfelt smile before they said goodbye to one another. He watched her walk down the road and disappear into her driveway, making sure she was safe before he left.

The Harrington girl quietly entered her house, taking off her rather muddy boots and making her way up to her brother's bedroom. She knocked quietly on his door out of politeness but didn't wait for an answer before opening it.

"Steve-" her voice was remorseful, this is how it always went.

He groaned a little from his work desk, eyes failing to stay open consistently, "I know, I'm sorry." Steve sent her a weak smile, knowing how hurt his little sister was at heart.

"Yeah," she sighed, "me too."

Y/N climbed into bed that night with the scent of Billy's strong cologne still clinging to her too, and it made her feel at ease. She slept well for the first time in a very long time, mind for once not plagued by creatures from another world.

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@ilkaeliseb @florenceivy @annas-unicorun @astro-sweetheart @4everchrista @delicatelyherdreams @mautand @me-a-hopeless-romantic @buckysjuicyplums @lucyrocks86

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#fanfic #fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #billy hargrove #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagine #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove angst #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove imagines #billy hargrove x reader #billy x reader #steve harrington

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mymelodyheart · 3 years

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Forget Me Not Chapter 3 ~Frankly Speaking~

Lallybroch always made Claire's heart lighter, and no matter where her travels took her, it was still home she looked most forward to. Her inheritance from uncle Lamb enabled her to travel, which he inspired in her when she was a child. Forever grateful to Brian and Ellen for taking her into their family, she offered part of her inheritance from her parents and uncle, to put towards the restoration of the hotel. Despite Brian's initial unwillingness to accept Claire's gift, which was deemed totally unnecessary, she had insisted on end until they had to finally succumb. She had been too stubborn to let go of the matter, and told them, she'll never wholly be part of the family unless they accepted her contribution. Now home at last and soon working for the family business, she couldn't be any happier.

"That was bloody gorgeous," Claire gushed, grinning at Jamie, as she cleaned her plate, eating every morsel of the Raspberry Mille Feuille with relish, including the garnish meant for decorative purposes. It was a favourite treat that Jamie had made, especially for her homecoming.

"Watch yer language, young lady!" scolded Ellen gently, her disapproving look quickly turning into amusement as she watched her foster daughter finished the dessert with enthusiasm.

Claire's penchant for swearing was acquired from time spent with her uncle Lamb at archaeological sites during summer holidays before he died. No amount of admonishment nor threats of her mouth being washed with lye soap by Ellen put an end to the habit.

"Sorry ma...everything was just so delicious," Claire apologised in a muffled voice, mouth still full with pastry and raspberry. "Absolutely fabulous homecoming - I'm so terribly spoiled. I should go away more often. And Jenny, the Beef Wellington was divine. I don't understand why you don't want to work in a restaurant. You're a fabulous cook, and you can give Jamie and Willie a run for their money with your talent," Claire said, her eyes twinkling as she winked at her foster brothers.

Jenny smirked feeling pleased, as she had always taken pride in feeding and taking care of her siblings. She hoped one day when she and her fiance Ian Murray are finally wed, she would have many children to take care of. "Did ye hear that, laddies?" Jenny eyed her brothers. "Good thing I didn't join the family business and become yer head chef. Not that Murtagh isna doin' a fabulous job, but home-cooked classical dishes are still the best, instead of those fancy cooking ye lads learn at yer swanky school."

Everyone on the large family table laughed, and Claire sat back and watched in contentment as the quibbles, banter and sallies carried on. Even Geillis had joined in with the raillery, and she was glad her friend mingled easily with her family with no awkwardness. That's not surprising though, as hospitality and conviviality were what the Frasers were known for whenever guests graced Lallybroch.

Ever since stepping into the threshold of the Frasers home earlier, Claire was engulfed with familiarity and belonging, but somehow, she couldn't shake the feeling that somehow something had changed. It didn't take long to figure out what was different - she knew it was Jamie. He was no longer the gangly and ungainly lad that left Lallybroch for France six years ago. Although they had kept in touch regularly, it was the first time they had seen each other in years.

When Claire first laid eyes on Jamie at the platform of the train station earlier, her breath had hitched. She was caught unaware of how much he had physically changed. He was broader, taller, and his body gym-honed, as a result of his daily workouts. Claire had always known Jamie liked to keep fit but seeing the result of his discipline was another thing. She was flummoxed by the newfound awareness of him as a man and how devastatingly handsome he looked. Although he had held her in his arms before in his brotherly way when they were younger, somehow being held by him at the train station was different. The feel of him was conflicting with her childhood memories, and it made her confused as unfamiliar sensations arose in her. Now, more than ever, she was conscious of everything that was Jamie, and every time he looked directly into her eyes, strange flutterings sprouted from her belly causing her to feel warm and tingly all over.

At one point during dinner, she had unconsciously glanced at his lips as he sipped his wine, noting the few days' bristles of his beard, and she allowed her mind to wonder how many girls he had kissed. When her gaze eventually went to his eyes, she was mortified that he caught her staring. Looking away in embarrassment, Claire mentally scolded herself for thinking such things, and she thought, how appalled Jamie would be if he knew what was going through her mind. She tried to dismiss the strange sensations triggered by his presence as silly musings of those of teenage girls'. But it was futile as he was constantly nearby and just like when they were younger, he was tactile and demonstrative with his affections. Brotherly love, that's all it is and nothing more , Claire thought.

She was brought back from her reverie when her phone beeped and buzzed.

"No phones on the dining table...ye ken the rules, Claire," Brian reminded his foster daughter, throwing a stern look her way.

Geillis' prying eyes, having a mind of their own, wandered onto Claire's phone screen which was placed on her friend's lap. She saw the name, bold and clear as the screen was swiped to read the message. "Oooh, it's from Frank!" she announced inadvertently in a soft voice, but loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Frank? Frank Randall?" Willie glanced at Claire with an arched eyebrow.

Claire felt the heat creep up her face, as she never told anyone, apart from Geillis, that she had been in contact with Frank ever since that one summer when they met for the first time since leaving school. She had been secretly in love with him for as long as she can remember and had arranged to meet up once she was back home.

Jamie leaned closer even though he was sat next to her. "Sassenach, why does Frank have yer number?"

"Are ye seeing a lad?" Brian piped in, now curious and attentive to the conversation, as Claire was the only one in the family who haven't brought home a special someone.

"Och Claire, ye're blushing, dear...so ye have a boyfriend?" Ellen joined in, beaming. "Ye should invite him for dinner so we can all get to know him."

"Ma! He was a prick back in school!" Willie blurted, giving Claire a disapproving look.

"Language lad!"

"So, is he yer secret boyfriend?"

"Sassenach?"

"Is it a date and if so, why is he no' picking ye up?"

"Ye have a boyfriend?"

Jenny didn't utter a word, but her head snapped back and forth, watching the interrogation like she was watching a tennis match. And Geillis' only answer to Claire's frown was "Ooops."

"I don't have a boyfriend, alright!" Claire snapped, sounding a tad bit terse than she intended to. "He's an English guy who went to the same school as Jamie and me, and we're just texting. I'll be meeting with him in the pub later."

Everyone was silent for a few seconds until Jamie spoke up. "Sassenach, I'll drive ye to the pub...it's getting late, and it's dark."

"No, Jamie, I can go to the pub myself. I'm a big girl now, and I don't need a chaperone. Besides, Geillis is coming with me," she replied impatiently, trying to hide her mounting irritation of being put into a spot like a schoolgirl caught doing something she shouldn't.

"I am?" Geillis sounded happy at the prospect of going to the pub. She had always loved going out.

Claire nodded to Geillis, giving her a warning scowl to zip it.

"Claire! Jamie is just offering to drive ye to the pub. We all know you can take care of yourself..." Willie joined in, asserting his position as the older brother.

"I was going to the pub meself, so I thought I'd drive ye..." Jamie added, the furrows on his forehead deepening.

"How convenient!" she muttered, regretting her reply immediately. Jamie had always been nothing but sweet to her and Claire wondered why she was feeling guilty that he knew she was off to see Frank.

"What's that supposed to mean? And why are ye upset?" Jamie asked.

"I'm not upset!" she retorted, giving him a pointed glare. In actual fact, she felt unsettled, and she doesn't know why she should feel that way. Her family was just curious.

"Yes, ye are! How long have ye been texting Frank?" Jamie remarked, his face devoid of any expression.

Usually, able to read Jamie's mind, Claire wondered what he was thinking. It made him harder to read when his gaze is so intense that she daren't hold them for long.

"Da?!?" Claire looked at Brian imploringly, looking for support. She daren't glance at Ellen as she knew there would be questions in her eyes. And the last thing she needed was having to explain to her family who and what Frank was. It was no one's business!

Brian let out a sigh as he dug out his car keys from his trouser pocket and tossed it at Claire. "Here, lass, take my car. Right, lads...back off now. The lass is right. She doesn't need any of ye hovering about especially if she's seeing a boy...that's her affair. She'll tell us when she's ready."

Catching the keys, Claire quickly slipped out of her chair and went to Brian to give him a thankful hug and a kiss. "Thanks, da." And before anyone could say anymore, she quickly left the dining room, signalling Geillis to follow suit.

"Mind, if ye have too much to drink, call one of the lads or a taxi. Don't want ye drinking and driving..." Brian shouted after Claire.

"Aye da, will keep that in mind," she shouted back, mimicking his accent, as Claire ran up the stairs with Geillis in tow.

..........

Jamie felt like he was punched in the gut when he found out Claire was meeting Frank at the pub after dinner. What he thought of his adolescent infatuation towards his foster sister as long dead and buried, had resurrected in full force as something more astronomical and immense. It was no longer an innocent teenage crush with dreams of holding hands, gentle kisses on the cheek and sharing a tub of ice cream, but something more deep-seated that was awakening inside him. Perhaps, it had been there all along, and distance and absence had prevented him from dwelling on his yearnings. When he had held Claire in his arms at the train station, he felt a pleasant stirring, and he so wanted to bury his face in her neck and feel the thrumming of her pulse against his lips. Claire had pressed her forehead against his as she told him how much she missed him, and if Willie and Claire's friend hadn't been there, he might have been tempted to kiss her.

But then there's Frank. Damn him to hell and back. He should have gone back to where he came from after he finished school, but instead, his family had stayed, and Frank went to study law in Edinburgh. Claire would undoubtedly like that about him, her being an intelligent girl and all. If memory served him right, she had told him a long time ago, she preferred the tall, dark and handsome type, and now, Frank was an academic, to boot. To make matters worse, he was no longer the reprobate that he used to be. He was actually a nice guy, and after his pupillage, he was on his way to becoming a barrister and most probably a successful one too.

For as long as Jamie could remember, he and Claire had no secrets. Even when he was in France, and she, in Switzerland, there were nights when they would talk on the phone for hours on end. She never broached the subject about boyfriends or relationships in her life, and when he did ask, he had waited with bated breaths for her answer. Her response was always, "I haven't found anyone special yet." If he was perfectly honest with himself, he dreaded the day when Claire would announce she was seeing someone. So, it must have been Frank all along all these years. How could he compete with someone that Claire was wholeheartedly devoted to? But on the other hand, unlike Frank, Jamie knew her like the back of his hand; he understood her fears and weaknesses, he could tell when something was bothering her, and the world wasn't right, he accepted and appreciated her flaws as perfections and endearing, he remembered all her favourites and dislikes. And most of all, he wasn't going to stand back and let some English sod steal his Sassenach right under his nose.

Jamie looked at the grandfather clock as he heard a car parked on the gravelled driveway. It was past midnight already. As he hadn't been able to sleep, he decided to watch a movie in the family TV room, which was once their playroom when they were kids. He got up and poured himself a treble measure of whisky before settling once again on the sofa. He could hear Claire and Geillis giggling as they made their way up the stairs. Half an hour later, the door opened.

"Jamie?" Claire walked in, wearing one of his old shirt and thick, red woolly socks. "I hope you don't mind...I went to your room and took one of your shirts. I've never been a jammies person."

He smiled and patted the sofa next to him before getting up. "Fancy a whisky?"

Claire nodded as she padded over to the sofa and slipped under the quilt Jamie had been using to keep warm. It was a cold night, and he hadn't bothered putting the fire on. "What are you watching?"

"Just flipping channels...nothing exciting," he replied, handing Claire a tumbler with a double measure of Lagavulin, before settling next to her under the quilt. Jamie knew she liked her whisky peaty.

"Jamie, sorry about earlier. I acted like a brat. I have no idea what came over me..." Claire started as she turned to face him, tucking her feet beneath her.

"It's alright, Sassenach." Jamie raised his glass. "Here, slàinte mhath and welcome back home," he said softly. "So, how was yer night out?"

"It was alright...it was great to see a few familiar faces. I talked to Frank, but he had to leave early because of some emergency at home. We're meeting tomorrow morning again for coffee." Claire shrugged as she swigged her whisky with an audible gulp.

"That's nice. So ye still fancy the lad?" He was swirling his glass and looking into the oaky liquid.

"If you mean if I'm in love with him... I don't know...well, I don't think so. I thought I was, until tonight. I've grown up loving the notion of being in love, and when you're finally faced with the object of your fantasy, reality doesn't really do it justice, does it? But I do like him, and he's changed a lot. And he seems to like me, so we'll see how it goes. I guess I've changed... people change, you know...just like Frank."

Jamie let out a deep breath he'd been holding in for long. He didn't want to look at her lest he revealed the jealousy he felt towards Frank. "I've changed too ye ken, but at the same time, I'm still me."

"Jamie as I said people change and those changes are more noticeable, especially you haven't seen them for ages. But what I don't want to change is what we have between us...I think what we have is pretty special."

This time Jamie shifted from his position and turned to face her. "Aye, Sassenach, what we have between us is quite extraordinary. What I want ye to know is, what I feel towards ye and what I know I have with ye, will never change. I promise ye that. Best ye don't forget."

Claire smiled for the first time since walking into the room. She put down her tumbler on the coffee table and arms wide open, she beckoned, "Friends again?"

Jamie rolled his eyes as he reached out and gathered her to his side, laying her head on his chest before kissing the top of her head. "Sassenach, ye clown. Of course, we're always that. Now shall we watch a movie?"

Claire snuggled closer, pulling the quilt around them and wrapped her arms across Jamie's middle. "Alrighty, you choose as long as it's not a war film," she replied, settling in a more comfortable position.

Twenty minutes later, the door opened. It was Jenny. "Hul-loh, ye two. I thought I might find ye here."

Claire raised her head from Jamie's chest, drowsily. "Oh hello, Jenny, want to join us? Enough space on the sofa."

"Och no, I'm going to bed. I just wanted to ask ye both if you'd like to go out for dinner tomorrow night? Ian had Italian in mind. I've asked Willie and Geillis already, and they said they're coming. So what say ye two?"

"Sassenach, fancy Italian tomorrow and maybe bowling after?" Jamie asked, smiling as her head bobbed, realising she must have fallen asleep.

Claire nodded. "That would be lovely... sounds fun."

"That's fab, it's a date then. Good night ye two!" Jenny winked before closing the door.

By then, Jamie sensed Claire had nodded off to sleep as she let out a faint snore. He pulled her closer to his side, relishing in her warmth and the feel of her body so close. Jamie tried to concentrate on the film and dispel thoughts of what Claire's nearness was doing to him. He wished she didn't look so damned provocative, wearing only his shirt. Part of her appeal was that she was so unaware of her own allure and charms. As Claire shifted, muttering incoherently, Jamie knew he was on a very short tether, strained and taut, that was likely to snap any moment. He needed badly to refill his glass with a good measure of whisky but didn't want to disturb Claire's slumber. He was just at the point when he was getting uncomfortably strained when the door opened again. It was Willie this time.

"Oh, it's ye both, I thought someone left the lights on," Willie whispered as he noticed Claire sleeping on Jamie's arms.

"Listen, Willie, can ye do me a favour and carry Claire to bed. I have an awful cramp on my leg and can't stand. I dinna want to disturb her."

"Aye, nae bother."

Willie lifted Claire effortlessly in his arms before saying good night to his younger brother.

The moment Jamie heard the door closed upstairs, he quickly got up and poured himself another treble measure of whisky or maybe more, and downed it in one go. Christ Sassenach, ye'll be the death of me!

#melodyheart #forgetmenot #Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser #outlanderfanfic

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hythlodaes · 4 years

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always gold

the story of milo shae up until the prologue. ft. @hondaohnaka‘s tia and @forceritual‘s edelie words: 5,075

Milo wakes to his head aching, and there’s a heaviness that creeps up the back of his neck, throbbing through his first blurry thoughts. His throat is dry and his limbs are heavy as he shifts on his bed--just a mattress pushed against the wall of his dirt cheap apartment. He’s shirtless but he’s still wearing pants and boots, and the room is still dark but it’s not dark enough.

He closes his eyes as his stomach churns sickly with the beginning of his hangover, and aloud he says to himself, “You gotta stop doing this, man.”

Life was simple at the start.

The Shae’s moved to Ukio at the beginning of Milo’s memory. They bought a small house in a small town surrounded by fields and fields of farmland. For his mother, it couldn’t feel further from Mirial. For his father, it was a lousy place to end up after your latest get-rich-quick scheme fell through.

When he was six years old, Milo held his mother’s hand while she gave birth to his sister. He looked between doctors and nurses and the pain on his mother’s face, and somewhere underneath it all he felt afraid. He was too young and the room was too bright, too sterile, and his dad told them that he’d be there, but he said that a lot.

What he remembers: a baby crying, his hand turning dark green where his mother squeezed it too hard. He remembers going home after that, sitting in the back of the speeder next to her, casting curious glances towards the tiny bundle as the streetlights shifted over them.

The first time he held his sister in his own tiny arms, he felt a swell of pride that all big brothers should feel.

Lurian Shae.

“I’ll call you Luri,” he said, looking into her curious eyes that shone the empty green as his father’s. “I’ll look out for you.”

Life was simple. Life was easy.

Afternoons were spent in the lazy sun, often in Milo’s back yard where the green grass contrasted the yellow ochre in the distance. The summer heat made Milo’s forehead drip with sweat as he watched his best friend tinker with a model ship set up on their makeshift table in their makeshift fort.

(It was made of a bunch of wood pallets thrown together, and it collapsed five times in the two months it’d been up.)

“Rodi,” he said, dragging his friend’s name out. “Come on, can’t we just play with it already?”

They were twelve years old, and this was as tough as life got.

The model ship was a BT-7 Thunderclap. Milo memorized the details, wasn’t even jealous when Rodi received it as a birthday present. All he wanted was to fly it, because it was as close as he would get to his dream of flying a real ship.

This is something he’d known for a long time.

“Just hang on,” Rodi said. “It’s not gonna work if you rush.”

“Well how much longer?”

“Just hang on,” Rodi repeated, and Milo huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. It was one thing for his mother to tell him that he was too impatient, but it was entirely different coming from his friend. They’d known each other for four years at this point, living just a few minutes down the road from each other. Their bond started the way most childhood friendships do, and it was funny how something so small and simple could last for a long time to come.

“There, I got it.”

Milo whooped as Rodi picked the ship up and ran out of the fort, setting it down in the grass and stepping back. The two of them stood shoulder to shoulder as Rodi tinkered with the little remote, and the model ship whirred for a few moments before lifting off the ground. The two boys cheered as it flew into the golden sunlight.

Milo shielded his eyes with his hand, grinning as he said, “I can’t wait until we have a ship of our own.”

He could feel Rodi’s gaze turn towards him. “You’re gonna fly it, right?”

“As long as you’re there,” he said, and as the light washed over him, he knew it was a promise he intended to keep. “We’re gonna see the whole galaxy.”

By the time Milo drags himself up from the mattress, the light in his apartment tells him it’s mid-afternoon. There’s always been something strange about the way time moves on Nar Shaddaa--it’s like every sector has a clock of its own, so it’s always three in the morning somewhere, always trouble somewhere.

Milo has his own trouble, downing a couple of painkillers with his coffee. He ends up with his head resting against the crook of his elbow, waiting out the agonizing moments it takes for the relief to kick in.

Across the room his datapad lights up with a new message, and his free arm extends towards it as though it can be reached from here. Whoever it is, they’re going to have to wait until he feels alive enough to get up and read it.

It wasn’t a surprise when his dad left them for good, but it still hurt.

It was still an ending, even if he wasn’t around much in the first place, or that he was ever particularly good for either Milo or Lurian. Their father was always on the cusp of anger, could never be bothered, always had a knack for making sure they knew he didn’t care.

(Don’t let this place get to you, was what he said during one of their last moments together. Get out of here as soon as you can.)

Milo held Lurian on the floor of his bedroom as the front door slammed with one final sound, and he blinked back tears that he never meant to cry.

Perhaps the strangest part was the finality of it--Milo was used to him leaving, but he always came back. Perhaps the worst part is that Milo could never fully believe that he wouldn’t come back.

That night he told his sister story after story as time dragged on, and after his voice wore out, they tip toed downstairs. Their mother was on the couch, staring vacantly at the wall, but at the sound of them entering the room she looked over at them with a watery expression, her lips pressed into a small smile.

“Come here,” she said, and the two of them curled up on either side of her, tucked against her. Her warmth was comforting but it didn’t quell the emptiness left behind, it didn’t ease away the shock that this was all that’s left of their family. Still, the three of them stayed like that until morning, and then life moved on--different, but it still moved on.

“I think I’m gonna be Nico Okarr this year,” Milo said. He and Rodi walked home from school together most days, and today’s topic of conversation turned to Ukio’s autumn festival, where children typically dress up in costume.

“That’s what you were last year.”

“Yeah, well, he’s cool,” Milo explained, which sounded better than the fact that his mom told him they couldn’t afford a new costume. He still fit into the old one, and besides-- “I’m gonna be just like him someday.”

Rodi smirked. “Yeah, and I’m gonna marry the Queen of Naboo.”

“It could happen.”

“In my dreams. Come on, we both know we’re not getting out of here.”

It was the obvious conclusion: two poor kids from a farm planet. There wasn’t much hope for either of them.

“We are, though,” Milo argued. “You and me. When we have our ship, we’re gonna be heroes and they’re gonna tell stories about us.”

Silence beat between them with each footstep along the sidewalk. Golden sunlight fell over them as the afternoon stretched on, the air cooler than it had been lately, and it took a long time for Rodi to quietly ask, “You really believe that?”

Milo nodded. “You’ll see.”

Dearest Older Brother (who’s the worst, by the way),

If you’re not going to answer my messages, at least answer mom’s. I know better than to worry about you, but the same can’t be said for her. It’s been a while since we’ve seen you and you know how she comes up with the worst case scenarios. So consider me, listening to her ramble on and on about whatever trouble her poor son is in, and call her back.

Or better yet, go home. I bet she’d make oodi soup for you, and by extension, me.

Funnily enough, I guess I miss you. So like. Whatever.

Lurian.

School was hard. Paying attention was harder. He zoned out during his lectures, found that he didn’t really care. There weren’t any pilot training programs on Ukio and his mother didn’t have the money to send him off planet to learn, so he was stuck running flight simulators and reading manuals in his spare time. He knew what he wanted and he knew he wouldn’t find it here, so what was the point?

He told himself he didn’t care, but it was hard to ignore the anger of realizing your dreams would most likely never happen.

As he got older, he started skipping out of class early. There was a group of kids that were older than him, and one of them had a speeder bike that they’d race along the abandoned field across town. Milo, desperate to get on that bike, tagged along until they eventually let him ride it.

He fell off the first time, taking a turn too sharply. Momentum hurled him to the ground, where dirt caked into his clothes and his body took a moment to catch up with the pain after the shock. His forearm split open from taking the brunt of the fall, but he managed to stand up, and he laughed at the concern on his friends’ faces.

It was a feeling he wouldn’t forget.

The cut on his arm ended up leaving a scar, but that was nothing compared to the look his mother gave him when he explained to her what happened.

(He gave her the safe version of the story. It still wasn’t enough to spare him from punishment.)

“You keep talking about getting your own ship,” Rodi said one afternoon, “but how are you going to afford it?”

“Our ship,” Milo argued. He actually made it to the end of school today, so they walked home side by side once again. “We’ll figure it out.”

Rodi snorted. “What does that even mean?”

“It means we’ll figure it out.” It wasn’t an answer, and truthfully Milo hadn’t thought about the particulars. All he knew was that he had to make it happen. He had to find a way, and they were going to get out of there, because staying sounded like a death sentence.

“I’d love to live in that delusional world of yours,” Rodi said as they approached the split in the road. To the right lead to Milo’s house, to the left lead to Rodi’s. They slowed to a stop as he continued, “You know we’re not kids anymore.”

But he was wrong. They were fifteen and life was still just starting for them. There was still so much time to do whatever they wanted to do, and far fetched dreams were still at the top of Milo’s list, even if Rodi forgot about them.

“Don’t you want to get out of here, Ro?”

He sighed. “Of course I do, it’s just not...realistic. Listen, even if you got a job I’d bet all the credits in my bank account that you’d spend everything on your mom and your sister.”

“You don’t have any credits in your bank account.”

“Well, if I did, that’s what I’d bet them on.”

Milo shifted his weight, looking down at the ugly permacrete road. His hand scratched idly at the back of his neck where his hair had grown too long. Money was tight for them--had been for a long time now, and even though was used to having less, he hated seeing his mother work so hard for so little. He sighed too, finally looking up at his friend. “Maybe you’re right.”

The admission felt ugly but it brought a small smile to Rodi’s face as he threw his arm around Milo’s shoulders. “That’s my boy.”

Milo got his first job later that week. It was for hauling junk and it didn’t make a lot of money, but it felt like progress.

(Rodi was right, he ended up giving most of his earnings to his mom.)

Some nights Milo would lay awake. He would leave the window open, and the cool air rushed in every few moments, brushing over his skin as he tried to fall asleep. It didn’t always work but he liked the way it felt, he liked the way his home felt, then. It was safe--his mother and sister were down the hall, and he didn’t miss his father. Not really.

He told himself that it was easier with him gone. It was easier not to have the expectation that he’d come home or that he’d be wherever he said he’d be. Disappointment hurt, but it was never as bad as the hopeful expectation, the this time things will be different.

(It was never as bad as the thought that creeped in from time to time: You weren’t enough to keep him here.)

Some nights he crawled through the open window, shimmied down the side of the house, and made his way back to the split in the road. Rodi waited for him there and they’d go out and drink with their friends. They’d meet in empty fields, or behind the old barn that hadn’t been used in years, and it was fun.

He got drunk and the world felt a little blurry, and the first time he kissed someone his knees shook. The second time they stayed steady, but he still didn’t feel like he knew what he was doing.

(It took a while, but he found his way. Uncertain lips became sure, fumbling hands confident.)

So maybe they caused a little trouble. So what? When he turned sixteen he stole a hydrospanner from Arlen Marrin’s shop, and he and Rodi didn’t say a word until they could catch their breath, having ran all the way back to Milo’s house.

There, they laughed until his mom asked them what was so funny.

Or better yet, come home.

Milo reads the words again and again, his hand trembling slightly where he’s holding the datapad. He needs another drink, or...something. Anything to take the edge off, to dull the thoughts that rush at him all at once.

He lives on Nar Shaddaa between jobs, and it’s bad enough without the guilt of leaving his mom and sister behind. He still sends nearly every credit he earns back home to them, but he knows that it doesn’t make up for leaving.

He knows it doesn’t make him any less like his father.

“Hear me out: Rishi.”

Rodi raised a brow at him. He was sitting on his bed, datapad in his lap, while Milo laid on his back against the floor. They were trying to study for their final exams, but Milo’s thoughts strayed back to the place they always did.

“What do you mean, Rishi?”

Milo grinned. “We should go to Rishi. School’s over in a couple weeks, we probably have enough money between the two of us, and it’s only three hours away by shuttle.”

“Yeah, you’re forgetting one major detail.”

“What’s that?” “Convincing our parents to let us go. I mean, unless you want to take them to a planet full of pirates and cantinas.”

“Of course I don’t want to take them,” he said, having to stop and think about it. He put down his book and sat up. “I’m sure we can figure something out.”

Rodi just hummed, turning his attention back to his datapad.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he defended. “You’re always saying we’ll figure it out. I’m just wondering when that’ll actually happen.”

And maybe it was true, maybe had always been the case, but this time Milo could feel it. He could pretend it was fate or destiny or whatever, but the honest truth of it was that he needed something to change. He needed something besides idle hope or he was going to fall down into the same idea his friends were all beginning to have: that maybe it’d be best to get a real job, settle down, and forget about leaving.

It could never be his plan.

“Soon,” he answered, but his voice was quiet as he stared down at the book in his hands. Perhaps, for the first time, he realized how dangerously close he was to giving in. It might have been too late to learn how to fly, and getting the credits for a ship seemed, at the moment, like an impossible task.

Maybe it was why he suggested Rishi in the first place, because he knew it was his last shot before he had to give up. Maybe it was why, when he went home later that day, he came up with an idea to get them out of there.

He just couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t try.

It started with a lie, which is probably why it all went wrong.

Milo told his mom that he was taking a trip to Boranda with a bunch of his friends, and that they’d be safe, and that they’d be home in three weeks.

None of these things happened.

Rodi said the same, and the two of them caught a shuttle to Rishi where, of course, they wasted their time and their money. The amount of trouble available to them was impossible to ignore--two foolish boys were left to their own devices for the first time in their lives, so there was no way it could’ve ended well.

It was fun for the first few days. They went out to the cantinas and met real life pirates and it was everything Milo thought it would be. He found it hard to come down, though. He drank too much, he ran his mouth. A week into their trip he got in a fist fight--didn’t even know why--he just remembered flashes of being in an alley, and the air smelled like salt and smoke and his mouth tasted like blood and there were people around him but their faces all blurred into one.

He thought he might be angry in a way that he didn’t understand. He thought he might be angry because it felt so good to take himself apart like that.

Rodi was the one that put him back together. He helped him back to their room and sat with him on the floor of the refresher, cleaning loose gravel out of his beat up knuckles. It hurt and his head throbbed and he got sick somewhere in the middle of it, but Rodi stayed beside him as the night dragged on.

He pushed Milo’s hair off of his sweaty forehead, revealing the tattoos that he hid from the world. Patterns that meant family, that meant home, that meant things he should love and did love but didn’t understand.

“What are you hoping to find here?” Rodi asked, and his voice was quiet but it echoed in the empty bathroom. A hollow sound, a hollow feeling, and the lights were on but they shouldn’t have been. The answer was simple but hard to admit.

“I wish home felt like enough,” Milo said. “I want to be happy there but I’m not.”

Rodi just nodded, his expression grim as he ran his fingers through Milo’s hair again. Brown eyes found green, and the concern in them was painful to see. Milo closed his eyes, leaned into his friend’s touch, but still couldn’t bring himself to apologize.

“Let’s just go to bed, Miles. Forget about it until the morning--you’ll feel better then.”

His hand pulled away, and Milo hummed a short sound as he finally looked up at his friend. Rodi was the only person he could trust with this, but something about the whole night felt wrong, like everything was falling apart, and it made Milo’s already sick stomach feel worse.

They walked like ghosts into the bedroom, collapsing into their respective beds as moonlight filtered in through the thin curtains along with the thick, salty sea air. The light outlined Rodi’s body as he laid on his back, and his eyes were still open but he just stared at the ceiling.

“You didn’t want this, did you?” Milo asked.

Rodi shook his head.

“Did you ever?”

And this time Rodi turned over onto his side to face him, blinking slow in the dark. “When we were kids, yeah. I feel so out of my depth here. It’s too real--it’s too much.”

Milo pressed his lips together. Sighed. “So why did you come?”

“Because it’s you,” he answered, “and you promised me all those years ago that you’d fly me around the galaxy.”

I still want to, Milo thought, but not like this. He didn’t want to be the reason his friend looked so unhappy, didn’t want the room to feel as strange as it did right then. In a moment of clarity, he said, “We should probably go home.”

Rodi hummed and it was like this: undefined. Unclear. The dream wanted to go on but Rodi didn’t, and Milo wanted to blame him for that. Milo was too worn out to be upset about it, instead he felt it like a weight on his chest, a heavy sadness that he couldn’t shake. He wanted to be mad at Rodi but he didn’t want to be mad at all, and the truth of it was that Milo knew himself, and he knew he couldn’t go home until he found whatever he was looking for.

So he got up and crossed the short space between their beds. He crawled across Rodi’s body and settled in beside him. It had been years since they slept next to each other like this, but it was comforting to have his friend this close. Rodi watched him, moonlight still lining the edges of his face, and maybe they both knew something was about to change, but neither of them could say it.

They didn’t say anything at all for the rest of the night, but Milo didn’t think either of them slept much. In the morning he slipped out of bed and packed his bag while Rodi breathed soundly across the room. Without a word, he took one last glance at his friend before closing the door behind him.

He knew what he had to do.

Time drags on but Milo still sits in his kitchen with his datapad in his hand. His sister’s letter continues to stare him down, but his eyes just sort of glance over the words now, not really reading it at all. He must stay like that for a while, zoned out, half-aware, because it isn’t until another message comes through that he comes back to himself.

I’m hungry, bring me food -T.

“Kriffing Tia,” he mutters under his breath, but getting out of the apartment sounds like a good idea, and he hasn’t eaten all day. He doesn’t know if he could, at this point, but he needs a distraction and Tia’s always up to something.

You suck. I’ll be there in 10.

He was, above all else, a fool.

He’d wonder about this for years to come: what would’ve happened if he hadn’t left Rodi on Rishi, if he hadn’t met Joss Dunal at the spaceport and joined his crew.

It wasn’t that he wanted to abandon Rodi, it’s just that he knew Rodi wouldn’t leave him. He would’ve come despite everything and he would’ve been miserable. Milo might’ve been selfish, but he wouldn’t put his friend through that.

He took a moment as the ship refueled to send a couple notes. He wrote a quick one to Rodi, and a longer note to his mother. It was mostly an apology, but it was also a promise. He could make some credits with this--big credits--the kind of credits that would help her and Lurian out.

He didn’t even consider that she’d rather have him home.

But leaving was hard, at first. It was an adjustment. Where he was used to bright sunshine and soft grassy fields, he learned to appreciate the coldness of space. It was incredible to see the stars like that, spinning into trails of light, and though he was made to do the least desirable tasks--cleaning weapons, cleaning the ship, loading hauls until his muscles ached--it was exciting in a way that life had never been before.

He was a fool, though. He got caught up in the high of traveling the galaxy. He didn’t care about the crime they committed. During long flights Joss taught him to shoot a blaster, then a second blaster, then they fought with their fists until he felt like Milo was ready to come with them on a job.

Life moved faster, life turned more violent. Milo drank more than he ever had in his life but he didn’t have Rodi to lean on. He didn’t have anyone to turn to when he wanted to come down. He and Lurian wrote back and forth constantly, but it wasn’t the same and he suspected it would never be the same again.

He saw too much, did too much. They landed on Nar Shaddaa for a few days, and he took what little he kept for himself and spent it all in one night.

It was Joss who found him in an alley the next morning.

“This isn’t what you thought it would be,” he said. It wasn’t a question, it was more like when Milo and Rodi were awake that night on Rishi: You didn’t want this, did you?

Milo’s head pounded as he walked beside the pirate. Nar Shaddaa was dark but the neon lights burned holes into his vision as they headed to a cafe around the corner. “Smuggling is a lot more romantic in the comics.”

“Why are you here, kid?”

Milo thought about it while Joss ordered them two coffees, and though his stomach swooped, the smell of the drink did a lot to help clear his head. He turned his attention to the street beyond the window, feeling the warm cup in his hands, and admitted the one deep truth he’d always known about himself: “I want to fly.”

“Then you should fly.”

A bitter laugh escaped Milo’s throat. “I don’t know how.”

Joss looked at him, his coffee poised to his lips, and grinned a smile that only a true pirate can manage. “Then I’ll teach you.”

So he learned.

He learned fast.

And he never looked back.

Two years after Milo piloted a ship on his own, the crew made their biggest run yet.

Joss tossed him a credit chit after, a grin on his face as Milo caught it in his hands. Milo almost didn’t want to look at it. He knew what they hauled and he had an idea of what it was worth, but it was one thing to guess and another to know.

He sputtered at the number, lowering his hands as he fixed Joss with a stunned expression. “This is more money than I’ve seen in my entire life.”

“You earned it, kid,” Joss said, and there was something close to pride in his grin. It’d been three years now that they’d been together, and the time had been invaluable to Milo. He was twenty years old and finally felt like he doing what he has always wanted to do.

He looked down again, staring at the number as though if he looked away, it would disappear. He stared and he stared and he laughed to himself before he finally looked up at Joss again. “You know I’m gonna use it to buy a ship and run on my own.”

But Joss smiled. “I know, just--don’t give me a reason to shoot you. I actually like you.”

“No promises.”

“I need money,” Milo says, staring up at the ceiling. He’s stretched out on Tia’s couch, and his headache has dulled but he can still feel traces of it behind his eyes.

“So get some money,” Tia responds from the kitchen, pulling a few beers out of the fridge. She hands one to Edelie before sitting on top of his legs, offering the other to him. He places it against his forehead and audibly groans at the relief.

Edelie raises a brow. “You want me to line up a bounty for you? I know a guy, it’d be some easy creds.”

“Easy? For him? Kid couldn’t keep up.”

“Hey,” Milo says, dragging the word out, but when Tia looks at him he can’t help but smile. “I’m older than you.”

Tia smiles back. “And I’m better looking. What do you even need the money for?”

Across the room, Edelie snorts. “Tell me you’re moving into a better apartment.”

“No,” he mutters. “I was thinking of going home.”

A beat of quiet passes between them. He doesn’t talk about home when he’s sober--none of them talk about these things when they’re sober. The three of them came together in a way that probably isn’t unusual for Nar Shaddaa: Milo was working a job and both bounty hunters were in on the gig. The result of a three day standoff was a friendship that’s both the best and worst thing possible for each of them--all three too reckless for their own good.

“What’s at home?” Tia asks after swallowing her drink.

He lifts a shoulder. Honestly? He doesn’t know. Maybe he’s just tired, and he’s tired of feeling strung out and hungover. It’s empty and aching and the excitement of it has dulled, but he doesn’t know what else he could do.

Maybe it’s that sometimes you leave a place for so long that you don’t know how to go back.

“There’s a job I could take,” he says. “Ord Mantell. Should be a quick delivery, get me the credits I’ll need.”

Across from him, Edelie lowers her drink as a frown pulls at her lips. “What’s stopping you?”

Just a feeling, he wants to say, but that’s ridiculous.

“Nothing.”

#hello who wants some angst about my silliest boy #ch: milo #swtor #swtor fic #my writing

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inmyownlittlecorner5 · 4 years

Text

Moonlight Chapter 19: Spiridus

A fanfic Novel by la-topolina

Rated for Mature Audiences

Warnings: Language, Violence, Sexual Content

Chapter 19/26

Moonlight Masterpost+

<< Chapter Eighteen+

Chapter Twenty+ >>

Miranda knew better than to follow it, but knowing better had never stopped her before. The bright blue ball of light was hovering patiently among the reeds as she hauled her little row boat, Molly Brown, out of the Sulina branch of the Danube. It had been yet another disappointing day on the river, and she was beginning to wonder if she would find the birds she sought before she died of boredom.

“Packaway,” she cast, passing her hand over the boat. It shivered and stretched its sides upwards before flattening out on the uneven bank. Folding the silly thing caused her to swear under her breath with frustration. Like maps, boats had to be folded just the right way, and Miranda had little patience for either finicky item.

All the time that she was wrestling with her task, the light creature was creeping closer and closer to her, until she felt she could no longer ignore it. The stories that her father had told her on camping trips about hapless travelers being led astray by mischievous will ‘o the wisps came back to her, but the hair on her neck did not prick her with warning.

“Can I help you?” she asked pleasantly. To her understanding it was best to be polite when addressing the fairy folk.

The wisp didn’t answer, rather it darted away towards the thick woods that lined the river bank. It made a beeline to Miranda, and then pedantically floated back to the woods, as though crooking its finger at her to follow.

“You aren’t planning to lead me into a bog and turn me into butter, are you?”

The light flickered and she could have sworn that she saw the faint outline of a tiny human figure inside of it, quivering with laughter.

“I’ll take that as a no,” she said, encouraged by this show of good spirits. “Lead on.”

The wizened trees were so close together that she had to push low-lying branches apart in order to enter the virgin forest. This part of the country was almost unpopulated, and Miranda had seen no one for days as she followed Charlie’s map up and down the winding distributaries of the Danube. Birds from all over the world, magical and non magical alike, flocked to the delta on their spring migration; so when the Iele had demanded each champion bring them a mated pair of Birds of Paradise, this seemed the most likely place to find them. Charlie had marked the map with the Birds’ favorite haunts, but there were still many miles of river to be searched. It was a tedious and lonely job, and Miranda wished that she were back at the Dragon Sanctuary, dealing with bruises and broken bones.

“Raasta,” she cast, and the tangled mass of tree branches and underbrush folded itself under her feet, creating a path for her to tread. She did not have to worry about leaving a trail though, as the flora sprang back behind her, unharmed. The light of the setting sun soon disappeared, but the wisp’s glowing body was enough to see by, even if it did create eerie, dancing shadows outside of its circle.

The quiet of the woods pressed in on Miranda until her own heartbeat pounded in her ears. After a time she became aware of a low hum emanating from the wisp. It sounded like speech, or a song, or some combination of the two. But no matter how hard she tried to listen to it, she could not make out either the tune or the words.

“Are we going far?” she asked, trying to fill some of the silence.

As though in answer, the sprite disappeared, leaving her at the edge of a clearing just wide enough for a traveling tent and a fire. Sentinels of trees surrounded it, their tops stretching up and creating a canopy of shelter. The spot was such a perfect campsite, that it was already occupied by another canvas tent. Miranda had not taken a step either into the clearing or away from it when Catalina Dragnea emerged from her shelter, her eyes blazing and a fierce scowl on her face.

“{Doamnă Rose,}” she said shortly. “{You have recovered from your recent visitors then?}”

“{I have,}” Miranda replied, cool but cordial. “{I’m sorry to disturb you. I can find somewhere else to camp.}”

“{No. That will not be necessary.}”

Miranda’s arms were relaxed at her sides, but the Alder pricked her wand hand, ready to leap into it if needed.

“{I am happy to see you again, Doamnă Dragnea, but I’d rather not duel you at the moment. Even for practice.}”

Catalina pursed her lips. “{I am not going to fight you. Not yet, in any case. I wish for you to stay here because then there will be no more such…incidents.}”

“{Really? What makes you so sure of that?}” She could feel anger shooting from every fiber of Catalina’s small frame, but Miranda wasn’t sure that this anger was directed at her.

“{You should know that my father did not send those things,}” Catalina spat on the ground and crossed herself, “{after you. That was Andrei and his friends.}”

“{I see. I guess I should have sent the head and the note to Domnul Naghi then. My apologies to Domnul Dragnea.}”

Catalina’s voice was sharp and bitter. “{You do not need to apologize. Father let it be known that he approved of Andrei’s actions. But I do not approve of them. When I defeat you, I will do it fairly and openly. And I will not have that honor denied me by those who would send undead assassins after a sleeping woman in the night. You will be safe if you stay here. I promise you that.}”

“{You mean, I’ll be safe until you decide to kill me?}” Miranda knew there had been a reason she liked Catalina.

The younger woman’s lips smiled briefly. “{Exactly.}”

“{I don’t think I can ask for a better offer than that. I’d be delighted to share this campsite with you. Thank you.}”

Catalina nodded curtly and disappeared back into her tent while Miranda went about the business of pitching hers. She was glad to have company after so many days alone, even if her company was in the form of her rival.

*****

“Miskawew,” Miranda rasped, drawing her wand listlessly through the air and sending a rainbow-colored wind whistling above the surface of the river. “Sail on, Molly girl.”

Molly Brown obediently cut through the water, riding the current easily beneath the tracking spell. Miranda settled in for another dull day with her rucksack and her empty gilded cage. The tracking spell would last for a good mile before she had to recast it, but she did not dare pull out a book to pass the time, lest she miss her quarry should she be so fortunate as to encounter them. Her throat was killing her; it had been sore when she had woken up that morning, and the sight of the mist burning off the river in romantic spirals was beginning to lose its charm.

As the sun climbed higher into the sky, Miranda let herself recline in her boat, watching the scenery for flashes of jewel-colored feathers through half-closed eyes. It was an elegant place, bordered by reedy banks and trees that bent gracefully to kiss the water. The Danube accepted all these attentions, humming along like an aristocratic matron, well schooled in the ways of the world and of love. The peaceful murmur of the current mingled with the calls of various birds, and Miranda wished that her mother were with her—both for the company and because she knew that her mother would be able to identify each and every song.

The thought of Monica Rose drew Miranda’s mind back home to Edgewood, and to the river that had witnessed so much of her childhood. Unlike the wise, old soul of the Danube, her river was young and boisterous. Even in the stretches of water that were smooth enough for swimming and rock skipping, it still crashed along, barely contained by its banks. Monica had never cared for her children playing by the river, even after they had learned to swim, but nothing had been able to keep Miranda, Columba, and Finn away from its shores. While their older brothers had played at being adults, these three had spent their days in and out of the river, playing and fighting and dreaming.

Her river had been such a faithful friend that Miranda loved it fiercely, even after it had taken Columba home. Finn had refused to go near it after that fatal day, but Miranda had not been able to stay away, even when she had tried. She had railed at the river, and fought with it, and, at last, she had made her peace with it. In her mind she pictured the spirit of her river as a wild young man, something like the river gods in the old stories. He was careless and powerful, and he did not understand that his heartless ways hurt the little mortals that splashed on his shore. He couldn’t help his cruelty, it was woven into the spirit of his terrible beauty.

David hadn’t understood her fanciful talk, but he had understood the beauty of the river. He had taken her brothers’ place as her companion there, and they had spent many hours dreaming and loving in the secret places on its shore. The river had been the place where one night, drunk on too much wine and burning hot in their youth, Miranda’s recklessness had won out over David’s reserve, and they had become lovers in every sense of the word.

As wonderful as it had all been, Miranda could not look back on it now without a twinge of guilt. David had desired her, but he had also believed strongly in all of the teachings of his newly adopted Church. He had wanted the two of them to come to their wedding day unsullied, the way that the priests and the Bible expected. It had troubled him that he had not had the will to resist both his passion and hers. Miranda had felt that he was right, but she had lived her life begging forgiveness rather than asking permission as she followed her impulses wherever they led. Now she could not help wishing that her younger self had resisted the urge to push David into temptation, especially considering the way it had all ended. He had never been able to refuse her anything, and she’d always known it. She wished she had used that knowledge to protect him the way he had wanted to protect her.

A painful lump formed in her throat as she drifted through her memories. Swallowing it hurt enough that her mind came back to where she was, and she realized that she hadn’t been watching her spell as closely as she should. She was coming to the place where the Sfântu Gheorghe distributary forked off of the Sulina, and her tracking spell fizzled out just before the split. It really didn’t matter which way she went since she was equally likely to fail in either direction.

“Molly, my dear, come about starboard. Let’s give the Sfântu Gheorghe a try today.”

*****

It was late afternoon when she found them. The final flicker of her tracking spell halted above a floating island of reeds in the middle of the river. They were smaller than she had expected, these Birds of Paradise, and whether they had actually ever been to the place they were named for Miranda didn’t know. But they certainly looked the part, shining like gems in the otherworldly light of the low-lying sun.

“Poni-nokusiw,” she breathed, concerned that she had waited too long to end the spell and that the birds would be startled into flight. They did pause in their pecking, heads cocked as they listened.

“Wakeless speed, Molly sweet.”

The good Molly Brown slowed to a crawl and Miranda held her breath until the birds went back to their business, deciding that there was nothing to fear. She didn’t want to risk disturbing them by actually attempting to tie her boat to the island, and she ordered another slow down as Molly Brown crept alongside it.

“Dead slow, my girl.”

Molly Brown pushed against the current just enough to keep her in place beside the reeds. Miranda’s eyes were fixed on the gorgeous creatures as she eased the net into her hands and silently shifted herself into position to throw it over them. Impulsively, she brought the fruit of her many nights of weaving to her lips, kissing its ice cold threads. When her arms were in position, she paused and counted her breaths, waiting until her whole range of vision had narrowed to the hapless birds. An instant later she broke the stillness with a flick of her wrists, letting the rope attached to the net trail between her fingers as it sailed through the sky.

The unbreakable net hit the mark squarely, wrapping itself around the birds before they had a chance to twitch a single radiant feather. They started up with a cry like a horse’s scream, pulling the net with them. In a flash Miranda had the rope wrapped around her hands, and she jerked it backwards in an attempt to bring them down. They were too strong though, and in the next moment they had lifted her up, dragging her out of the boat and into the river.

Miranda plunged into the frigid water, gasping as she wrapped the rope more tightly around her hands. She was astonished that chicken-sized birds were so strong, much less that they managed to fly hampered by the cold and the constraints of the net. But they beat their wings wildly against the weight of their hunter and she skidded through the water, shoulder deep but clinging on. Their shrieks grew louder and louder, scattering all of the other animals from their hiding places in and along the river, and filling Miranda’s ears with their rage.

She had not been expecting such a fight, and after some time of this dragging, they showed no sign of tiring. Her muscles screaming with the effort, she started to pull herself up the rope in a laborious attempt to climb it. She was shaking and sweating when, all at once, they came crashing into the river, as though they had given up the fight and decided to attempt drowning instead. Somehow she managed to wrap her arms around them, and they fell beneath the surface together. It took all of her concentration to keep her wits about her as the cold of the water and the cold of the unicorn-hair net shocked her body. She closed her eyes, held her breath, and hoped that she wouldn’t splinch them all as she Apparated to the shore.

Air came into her lungs in greedy gasps as she lay on the bank an instant later. The drenched birds were gathered on her chest, their wise eyes sad and angry as they gazed at her. Unlike the waxwings, these creatures seemed to understand their fate. For a moment, Miranda was seized with the urge to let them go free rather than consign them to eternal servitude among the Iele. But as her breath came back to her, she knew that this was impossible. Too many people were counting on her and on these birds. Too many for her to give in to her impulse; however well-meaning it was.

“I’m sorry,” she said heartfully, drawing her wand. “Somnus.”

The Birds of Paradise glared at her until the spell overpowered them and they succumbed to sleep. With numb fingers, Miranda tugged the net free and dropped it next to her on the ground. The birds felt as cold as she did, and she flicked her wand over the lot of them, basking beneath the jet of hot air until they were all mostly dry. Exhausted and throat still aching, she stroked the birds’ silky feathers and laid there on the shore with the reeds poking painfully into her back.

She may have dozed off briefly, for when her eyes snapped open the sun had almost disappeared below the horizon. Disoriented, she pushed herself up to sitting and nestled the birds in her lap. The boat was nowhere in sight, and she closed her eyes in order to shut out the complaints of her aching body while she gathered her magic. A long, low whistle came from her lips and, before it died away, the faithful Molly Brown floated up beside her.

It took her some time to gather her net and climb aboard, but she managed to do so without dunking either herself or her quarry in the water. The magicked cage popped open when she touched it, and she gently laid the birds inside, making sure to keep them cuddled up together the way they had fallen asleep. She conjured a blanket to wrap herself in, and pulled her canteen and the last of the meat pies out of her rucksack.

“Molly, love, take us home.”

*****

“{You look terrible, Doamnă Rose,}” Catalina said while Miranda huddled next the fire later that night.

“{How kind of you to notice,}” Miranda muttered. She did not bother to ask if Catalina had been successful as well that day. One look at the other woman’s cocky bearing and satisfied smirk was enough to answer that question.

“{You should go inside right now and shut all the flaps of your tent. This evil wind will be the death of you if you don’t.}”

“{I’m fine. The fresh air will do me good.}”

Catalina shrugged and sniffed, making it clear that she thought Miranda was acting like an idiot. But she went into her own tent and returned a short time later with a mug of steaming tea. Miranda took this offering gratefully, comforted by the floral aroma.

“{Did you really defeat five pricolici by yourself?}” Catalina asked, joining Miranda, but taking care not to sit too close.

“{No. I had help,}” Miranda admitted. The tea tasted of jasmine and, oddly, asparagus, but it did take the edge off the pain in her throat. “{From my Englishman.}”

“{Domnul Weasley?}”

“{A different Englishman.}”

Catalina raised her eyebrows, but did not pry further. “{It is good that he was there to help you.}”

“{Yes, it was.}”

Miranda finished her tea and handed the mug back to Catalina, who took it with the tips of her fingers, muttering a spell under her breath that blasted the thing with a jet of cleansing fire.

“{You should go to bed now, or you won’t be able to move tomorrow,}” Catalina said bossily.

Miranda held up her hands in submission. “{You’re probably right. Thank you for the tea.}”

“{You’re welcome. I wouldn’t want you to die before I had a chance to kill you.}”

“{Likewise.}”

A wave of dizziness hit Miranda as she stood, and she picked her way carefully to her tent, trying not to let Catalina know just how weak she was at the moment. Against the Romanian’s advice, she left the window flaps wide open, and collapsed like a sack of potatoes onto the bed, fumbling with her boot laces. The Birds of Paradise slept peacefully in their gilded cage, and she was more than ready to call it a day.

When she had her feet free of her boots at last, she stripped off her outer layer of clothing, dropping the articles unceremoniously on the floor, and curled up under a pile of blankets. Her head was still spinning, but she pulled her cigarette case out from under her pillow in order to give report to her waiting Englishman.

SUCESS, she tapped

The reply came almost immediately: WELL DONE I DONT SUPOSE YOU COULD SPARE ME AN EGG OR TWO

Always the Potions Master he was. She sent: WHAT THE IELE DONT KNOW WONT HURT THEM I WILL TRY THE BIRDS DID NOT GO QUIETLY AND NOW I AM GETTING A COLD

He helpfully pointed out: YOU REALIZE THAT THERE ARE POTIONS FOR THAT

She complained: UGH I HATE PEPPER UP POTION IT TASTES LIKE OVER SPICED SEWER WATER

He persisted: THERE ARE OTHER OPTIONS

She countered: NONE OF THEM WORK ANY BETTER THAN NOMAJ REMEDIES MY COLDS LAST SEVEN TO TEN DAYS NO MATTER WHAT I DO I WOULD RATHER SUFFER THAN DEAL WITH THE TASTE AND THE SIDE EFFECTS OF A POTION

He replied: UNFORTUNATELY I HAVE NO SPARE TIME AT THE MOMENT TO PROVE YOU WRONG BUT YOU ARE WRONG

She rolled her eyes and sent: YOU ARE THE MOST ARROGANT MAN ON THE FACE OF THE EARTH

He qualified: I SIMPLY WISH THAT YOU WOULD TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF

This soothed her rising temper and she pointed out: SAYS THE POT ITS JUST A COLD I WILL BE FINE

By now she was shivering, even in her cocoon of blankets. She sighed and added: I MISS YOU

She could picture the hint of a smile softening his face when he responded: OF COURSE YOU DO I MISS YOU TOO.

*****

Sometime during the dark hours of the night, Miranda jerked awake, snatching her wand from its place beneath her pillow and sitting up so quickly that her feverish head started spinning again. She scanned the room for the disturbance that had pulled her out of sleep, but saw nothing besides the slumbering birds in their lonely cage. Her teeth chattered as she blew out her breath, and she pulled back her soaked sheets in order to use a drying charm on them. The night breeze wafted through her window, chilling her further. Deciding that Catalina might have a point about the ill effects of night air on a fever, Miranda made to close the window flap. When she tried to stand, a wave of dizziness swept over her, and she sat down hard on the bed.

“It’s a good thing I found you two yesterday,” she grumbled to the captive birds. “I’ll be in no condition to do much of anything tomorrow.”

With a listless sigh, she cast the drying charm over her own clothes, and waited for her head to stop spinning that she might make another attempt to close the window. Before she had quite regained her bearings, the little will ‘o the wisp that had led her to camp zipped into the tent and zigzagged around her. She had the fanciful notion that it was trying to give her some sort of sympathetic gesture, and she smiled in spite of her discomfort.

“Hello, friend,” she said. “What can I do for you?”

It didn’t speak to her in words, but she hadn’t expected it to. Instead, it hovered in front of her, shimmering and sparkling, and then darted over to the cage.

“I’m very sorry, but I can’t give those to you. Is there anything else?”

Even as she said these words, she found herself rising from the bed, no longer dizzy. She joined her fairy visitor at the birds’ side and knelt by their cage, considering the request that the wisp made without speech.

“Well,” she said slowly, already opening the cage to comply, “if it’s only that, I guess it would be alright. I expect they grow back, after all.”

Without taking any more time to consider, Miranda deftly plucked a feather from each of the birds. Neither stirred, and the wisp started flashing and pinging around the tent with excitement. She closed the cage and held the feathers up to the wisp, which grew until it engulfed them. The feathers disappeared from view, and the wisp shrank back to the size it had been before. Now heavy with exhaustion, but no longer chilled, Miranda slumped back to bed and pulled the dried covers around her. The wisp flitted down and brushed her cheek in what could only be called a fairy kiss, and she fell asleep easily, untroubled by fever dreams.

*****

“I come bearing gifts to the world’s crankiest cold sufferer,” Charlie said the following Monday. He had been looking in on Miranda for almost a week now and, while the worst of her illness had passed, she was still a sight to behold.

“If it’s more Pepper Up Potion, I don’t want it,” Miranda croaked out. She was curled up in the armchair by the wood stove, surrounded by crumpled handkerchiefs, half-drunk cups of cold tea, and re-read novels.

“I’ve given up on that,” Charlie reassured her. “This came for you by way of my Dad.”

He set a package wrapped in brown paper on the table in front of her, and then bustled about her tent, cleaning up the handkerchiefs and various other items that littered the floor, and digging a pot out of the cabinet by the wall.

“Still ignoring Doamnă Lupul’s advice about the windows?” he asked as he set the pot on the hob and produced a jar of chicken soup from his robes. He emptied it into the pot, and stirred it while it heated.

“I don’t care how many Romanians say fresh air will kill me, I’m leaving the windows open,” Miranda replied, pulling the package onto her lap and untying the string. “I found the birds, didn’t I? I don’t see why I should have to let Doamnă Lupul boss me around any more than she’s already doing.”

“I’m just teasing you.”

She blew her nose and relented. “How are the birds anyway?”

“Resigned. They sang the saddest song I’ve ever heard for the first few days they were at the Sanctuary, but they seem to have acclimated themselves to their new home.”

“I hope they will be alright when I take them to the Iele.”

“They’ll have to be. But I wish we didn’t have to hand them over.”

“So do I.”

Miranda opened the package and found a bundle of linen and a scroll inside. She unrolled the parchment, recognizing Rachel’s neat handwriting immediately.

Dear Miranda, Happy Birthday my dear! I have been told that you were successful in your recent venture, and so congratulations. I have also been told that you are ill. I hope that you are resting and taking your potions, although I doubt that you are. Please get well quickly, as I think that the baby will be coming sooner rather than later. I look and feel like a beached whale, and the baby is kicking me all the time. I guess that they make the end of pregnancy this uncomfortable so that you’ll be willing to go through labor. Aaron sends his love and also the latest Robert Jordan novel. Do take care of yourself. We can’t wait to see you. Love, Rachel P.S. Also enclosed is a little something from a certain dour Englishman.

“Well, what is it?” Charlie asked as he ladled soup into a bowl for Miranda to ignore.

“It’s from a friend. It’s my birthday.”

“Is it really? Happy birthday! I wish I’d known, I’d have made you a cake.”

“I wouldn’t have wanted to eat it if you had. Thank you for checking in on me, though. I know I’m terrible company right now.”

“It’s fine. You’re not as bad as my Mum is when she’s sick. But let me know when you’re feeling up to coming back to the Sanctuary. Old Balaur misses you.”

“You mean he misses tossing me.”

“It’s the same thing.”

Miranda ignored the soup and untied the cloth. Inside was the promised novel, and a large glass bottle containing a dark amber liquid. It was so lovely that she pulled it out immediately and held it up to the light, which made it glow warmly. The label on the front of the bottle was written in a spidery scrawl, as was the letter waiting for her in the bottom of the box.

Miranda— Apparently I did have time to prove you wrong. One glass of this twice a day for the duration of your cold may not cure it, but it will enable you to go about your business untroubled by the illness. I believe that you will find both the taste and the side effects tolerable. You’re welcome. —Severus P.S. I expect to have your actual present completed by the time you come for the baptism of the Lee child. I trust you will forgive its tardiness. Happy Birthday.

“Charlie, would you mind getting me a cup?” Miranda asked.

Her curiosity was piqued, although she doubted it would be much better than any other potions she’d ever had. She was already composing a smug rebuttal to Severus's claims as Charlie handed her a glass and she poured a measure of the potion into it. It smelled like lemon balm and springtime, and even the scent of it opened up her breathing passages slightly.

“Aqua Vitæ Number Seven,” Charlie remarked. “I’ve never heard of that.”

“Me either. It’s a custom blend, I think.”

She put the cup to her lips and sipped cautiously, bracing herself for nasty flavors and vile reactions, but neither happened. The potion was pleasantly cool, like well water, and thick like honey. It tasted of lemons and elderflower, with a hint of mint after she swallowed it. Within seconds, a warm feeling of well-being unfolded in her stomach, spreading quickly through all her limbs. It soothed her throat, cleared her sinuses, unfogged her brain, and cured her bodily aches. When the sensation worked its way to her skin, it set all of it tingling briefly, the way Severus’s hands and lips did, and she could not help laughing with delight.

“I hate it when he’s right,” she said. “It makes him insufferable.”

“Who’s that?”

“Just a friend.” Her appetite finally asserted itself and she tucked into the soup.

“You know,” she said around mouthfuls, “I think I might be up for a Balaur ride today after all.”

*****

End Notes:

In Romanian folklore, a Spiridus is a sprite something like a will ‘o the wisp.

I had a lot of fun with the spells in this chapter: Raasta, is Hindi for “way.” This spell creates a path through uncut woodland without hurting any of the flora or fauna it affects, making it both environmentally friendly, and useful for hiding your tracks. The word to cast it was inspired by the quote “Take nothing but pictures, leave nothing but footprints, kill nothing but time.” from The Yard by Aliyyah Enaith. Many thanks to Shreya (and her mom) for helping me figure out an appropriate Hindi word!

Miskawew and Poni-nokusiw are Cree for “find” and “disappear” respectively. I found them in the online scan of an 1874 French-Cree dictionary.

The Molly Brown is named for the American socialite who survived the sinking of the Titanic. I did my best with the nautical terminology, land-lubber that I am.

The Robert Jordan novel in question, A Crown of Swords, was not actually released until 15 May 1996, but I'm sure that Aaron has some connections that got him around that little problem.

*****

Moonlight Masterpost+

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chaniters · 5 years

Text

Villain’s exposition

Kruk suggested I should write about Cyrus’ time at the farm, so here it is. Some warnings: It’s LONG, and a lot of monologuing.

IT’s got four of the major trigger warnings.

-TONS of SPOILERS under the cut !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

-suicide -heavy self-depreciation -drugs -rape

Ortega is there to blunt the sword a bit but he ends up getting cut by it as well. -----------------------------------------------

Villain’s exposition

"What difference does it make now?"

"I want to know whatever happened to you!"

"And I already told you I don't want to talk about it!"

"So that's It? I find you're a villain? THat you're a Regene? That you've been beating us senseless and you’re not going to share a single reason as to why?"

"EXACTLY!" you say walking to the door. But he's too fast, standing in between.

"NO. No, you don't! You've lied to me ALL the time. Since the moment we met you. I thought I loved you, and then you died, and I've been dealing with it alone ever since. You owe me one big fucking explanation!"

"I don't owe you anything!" you say trying to push him. But he won't budge. "MOVE!"

"Fine! I'll move! But this is the last time I take any of your shit, you hear me? We're DONE. DONE!" He yells at your face moving to the side.

You walk through the door...

"By the way, it's your own fucking house you dumb asshole"

... fuck. He got you again.

You do the 180 turn, glaring at him.

You've never felt like this... there is a rage you didn't know existed in you. Taking over the reins.

"You know what? You win. I'm going to let you know what I've been up to these past years Ricardo." you say turning.

He's got his arms crossed, matching your glare. You walk up to his face once more, slamming the door shut behind you once more.

"You want to hear my side of the story? GREAT!" you say up close "But you better brace yourself because you're NOT GOING TO LIKE IT!" And that's an understatement.

You walk back to the living room. The lamp's still on the floor where you threw it, just like the overturned chair you were sitting on. You let him fix the mess and take the sofa. He’s still glaring at you, but you just look away. Staring contest is over.

You can see him taking a seat next to you in the corner of your eye. Good. This will take a while.

"Whenever you're ready," he says, arms still crossed.

"You want the truth" you sigh. "Well, I'm going to give you the truth. Enough for you to fucking choke in it."

"Be my fucking guest?" he says sarcastically "If you even can say anything resembling the truth"

"Let's go. Where do we start?"

"Maybe at the beginning?"

"Great. So let's go back to 2001 when I was born..."

"You're much older than 20 Cyrus... Maybe you just physically can't stop lying?"

"Shut it. I was born out of a liquid nutrient tube in 2001 at a place called The Farm in the Nevada Desert. I was made to look 14 years old from the get-go"

"Wha...?"

"I was MADE you idiot. what part do you not understand? They didn't need a baby to perform their covert operation missions. They wanted field-ready agents"

"You mean you're..."

"Yeah... I look older but I'm just 18 years old. Surprise bitch! I'm legal this year if you still want to fuck me. Want to know which day's my birthday while at it? We could have cake and all that jazz"

"I..."

"I suggest you record this because I'm not going to do this ever, EVER FUCKING again." you glare at him. You already feel the migraine. “It hurts to even speak about this. Also, they one rule they taught me was to keep my mouth shut, so speaking about this is just...” you can’t even begin to describe how it feels right now.

He says nothing for a few seconds... then presses a few buttons on a hidden panel on his mods. Of course. Living recorder.

"Go on"

"So it's back to 2001. I was sleeping comfortably in my tube marinating around my own bodily fluids. You know, usual perverted experiment stuff. And then BAM!. They activated me. Or more like electroshocked me, whatever the case I came into the world with a bang. But I wasn't really myself at first. I had the intellect of a potato because my mind had never been used before, not while sleeping and being grown to the ideal age. So they jumpstarted my implant... and boy, that's when all the fun started"

"Implant?"

"Yes. They put implants on our brains to impart basic knowledge. How to stand upright. How to use a toilet. The basics of speech. How to eat with your mouth shut. How to eat period. You know. Baby stuff. Because that's what we were, babies in the bodies of adults. They awoke a whole batch of us, and they immediately started imprinting memories and knowledge in our little lab-rat brains."

"So you never had a ..."

"Childhood? Nope. Sorry, that's not for me. And of course, no parents either, It was more like a chicken factory. And not all of us came out alright. Several were discarded that night. Not that I noticed, I had more important stuff to do trying not to have my head explode with all the new information. They processed us. Got us a bath. Dressed us. Gave us our first meal, a sort of milky liquid. Actually, maybe It was baby formula for all I know.. And then they got us to a group bedroom and made us all lay down, tied us to the bed to make sure we wouldn't fall off. Then they turned off the implants not to fry our brains, and left us to our own devices." "Most of us screamed or cried all night long, because, you know, we were essentially human DNA based and our instincts told us we wanted our mommies with us. But that wasn't going to happen. Not to us."

He just stares at you, unsure if you're lying or not. Of course, he would, your truth is far more outlandish than any lie you could make about it. Perhaps you should spare the details... but no. You're mad. Let him have it all, he asked for this.

You go on, detailing how several of you simply died off over the next few days, and the doctors were just discarding the bodies as if it was the usual. Because it was, there was nothing natural about being born this way and it was an extremely traumatic experience the human body was not designed for. Because some medical machine failed. Because of some doctor's neglect of fuckup. Because you were all loaded with Hero-Drugs from birth and didn't stand the dosage long-term... Or maybe no one knew why in some cases. And you were among the "Lucky" ones and survived.

"Then after the acclimation and basic imprinting period, we were assigned handlers and sent to classes. Speech, speech and more speech. They wanted us to talk. We were extremely fast at it, you know. Because we had baby brains back then. We learned 9 languages. Some of us even got to 12 languages or more. You know I talk Spanish. Chen doesn't know I speak Cantonese. And then school. And high school. And a few degrees. The Best education there in the farm. I'd recommend it if it also included basic rights..."

"Then there were physical classes too. Martial arts, personal defense. Combat. Guns. Driving cars. Driving bikes. Driving Helicopters. Driving whatever actually... you name it. Oh, and managing our powers too of course! And medical exams, all the time. Tests and more tests... They wanted to know everything about our abilities"

"How long did all this take?"

"Some years" you smile. "Some of us died in accidents... our handlers tried to keep us alive though. There was a big bonus for them in it."

"How was... your handler?"

"Oh, she was actually decent. Some were not so lucky," you say bitterly. He swallows, but you don't elaborate.

"Eventually they figured out my powers... They decided I was a low-key psychic, and trained me for information gathering and surveillance. And that's what made me who I am. They chose to make me a Cuckoo, so instead of dying my skin blue, they left it as is, and just tattoed my code bar on human-looking skin. So that's what it all comes to. Some stupid scientist decided I was good enough to have the get the fancy paint job. If it hadn't been like that, we'd never have even met" You smile. "Or maybe you'd have thought of me as one of those blue-skinned things that give you the creeps."

"I never..."

"Oh yes, you did. Numerous times. I threw a ton of oddballs at you to find out what you thought about regenes, and each time you made it very clear how disgusting you found my whole bio-engineered fuck-up species." he goes silent for a moment pondering on your words "Relax. Most people claim we should just be exterminated as an affront to god, so I'm pretty used to it..."

"So where was I? Oh yes. TRaining. They made an agent out of me. It was a whole big montage with a song, like in those movies. And I was happy to be their agent! I mean, they gave me drugs to make me feel good when I succeeded in my missions, and they made me drugs to make me feel sad when I failed my missions, and they gave me drugs when they wanted me to sit tight and shut up in between missions, so whatever I did, I was in high cloud nine the whole time! No don't you feel sorry for me" you smile weakly.

He shifts uncomfortably. Of course, he can't handle knowing this. But this is what he wanted, so this is what he's going to get.

"So one of the handlers didn't follow protocol much, you know? He had a harem of young female regenes that absolutely adore him, and he treated them like his personal dolls... so he..."

"What?!"

You shrug "Our bodies didn't belong to us. We were state property and he just took advantage." you smile bitterly. "So many of them took advantage... doll fuckers they called them. It was a running joke... We were almost all used one way or another by then. And we all had teenage bodies... To tell you the truth, I think they just kept us on drugs to prevent our hormones from tearing us all apart"

"Where you...?"

"Nope! I guess I wasn't funny enough, or smart enough, or good looking enough compared to my brothers and sisters... you know I actually used to wonder why they didn't like me? Made me feel so ugly..."

"That's just sick Cyrus!"

"Of course it is, but no one cared about 412's inner unresolved sexual trauma. Oh, that was my name. 412." You keep the cheerful attitude as you go through your life. You try not to ponder how long can you keep it up.

"So this handler used to talk to his doll fans about life outside the farm to impress them. And you know, when I wasn't too drugged, I actually listened. And I thought it was the best thing i had heard about in my life. Which was quite a short time actually..."

"And thus, I became an agent and took part in several missions. Most of them were just finding out stuff or making sure there we no problems for the main agents, you know. Support stuff mostly. Until they started to order more complex stuff"

"Like what?"

"Oh, you know... Steal files.. infiltrate buildings... Also, they made me interrogate prisoners.. assassinate the odd terrorist..."

"You killed people??" he asks taken aback

"Well, I hadn't been taught to say no, you know? Didn't get the best role models."

"Hmr..."

"So I was a fine agent and all... until one of our missions went hella bad... Me and three of my friends from the orange-pinstripe-club..." you say tracing one of the lines on your tattoos "...we got captured by Russian intelligence. They killed our handler -you know, I actually miss her now that I think of it- then they tied us up and began cutting us open after using some sort of scanner. They were talking about removing our trackers...and that was VERY, VERY interesting to all of us."

You lift up your shirt to show you a small scar on your side.

"So they didn't know I was a telepath. I wasn't very strong back then, but I could do stuff if you gave me enough time and they were very close to us... When they least expected it, I made them undo our knots and my two friends took their lights out. We fled, on the back of a truck carrying bananas."

"Yikes"

"What did you expect a more elegant escape? It's me we're talking about. So we were cut loose, no trackers or so the Russians said... and well... suddenly none of us was in any no rush to go back... we could explore a bit of this real world we had heard so much about, you know? Those KGB guys did us one big favor."

"What happened to the other two?"

"Each of us took a new name... wished ourselves good luck... and split. Much better chances going our separate ways."

"You never saw them again?"

You smile at him. "We expected to be caught within days. This was just us acting up, throwing a tantrum. You don't understand the degree of control they exerted over us..."

"So how did it go?"

"Terrible. Within a day and a half, I was having withdrawal from the whole drug cocktail. Ended up on the streets, alone and it was winter. It was very, very rough and I had never been alone before, everything I tried came up wrong and I couldn't ask anyone for help. I was considering handing myself over when I met this old lady who needed someone to take care of her... and I did. She let me stay at her appartment.. and I started getting better eventually. Until she passed" you say, clearing a tear from your eye. "That's the first human I really cared for"

He nods slowly, waiting for you to go on.

"So a few months later, I was still living in her apartment alone, until Mr. Molotov moved on to the lower floor, and set up shop. Every night he worked out to make his weapons and suits, it was like a factory, I couldn't hear my own thoughts or sleep... So I had to find a solution"

"Waaait... is that why you came after me? He was too noisy?"

"You wouldn't believe how bad it was. No one complained because the building was full of squatters like me, and well... he was a supervillain. And I wasn't good enough to go toe-to-toe with him myself."

"You could have moved"

"Yeah. But they were MY apartment. That woman wanted me to have it. Why should I move? I think that's the first selfish thing I did"

"You know the rest... I got you to get rid of him, but the building burned down after the fight... found a new place to stay... and then the Eldritch mess happened and I became friends with Anathema..."

"But why did you become a hero?"

"Anathema. And you." you turn away "You were my first real friends... And I liked you... wanted to be like you. Made me there could be more to life than just surviving. That I could have my own interests. And I kept thinking ... Maybe If i do well enough, then they'll let me be a human as well!"

"But you are!!"

"No, I'm not. I never had a childhood. No parents. I never went to school or was in a sport's team. Never had a boyfriend or girlfriend. Didn't even know how to have my own opinions for the longest time. I'm just this thing they made to be a slave that's rebelled against them."

"You are still human!" he says holding a hand to your arm. You just pull away.

"I don't need your pity" you burst out. He retracts his arm startled by your reaction. You sigh "Shit... and we didn't even get to the juicy parts..."

"We can stop" he makes a peace offering.

"No. No, we can't, because you won't stop asking until I tell you everything, and I told you, I'm never going to do this ever again. So we're doing this" You say with teary eyes.

"Let me get you a soda," he says standing up.

"'kay," you say laying over the couch sideways. You close your eyes. Everything's spinning. But it's ok. It's under control... for now at least... Just have to keep your shit together and you'll get through this.

.............half a can of soda later.........................

"Hey... I'm sorry" you start

"No, I should be sorry," he says pacing around the room.

"For what? I've been dodging these questions for ages..."

"Yes, but I have no Idea It was so..."

"Horrible? Perverted?" you chuckle. "It gets so much fucking worse"

"You don't have to continue if you don't want to, really"

"I kind of have to now..."

"I just didn't know..."

"Ricardo... you and Anathema are among the only people that treated me like a real person... like I mattered at all. Every tiny moment of normality with you guys was something I had never experienced before. So I owe you a whole lot, You fucking know that, right?"

He turns, giving you an odd look. OF course, he didn't know that.

"Crap..."

"I never knew that the... regular stuff meant that much to you. I just thought you were... easily impressed"

"Well I was" you smile

He nods and takes his seat once more.

"Ok, here we go again" you start.

"You know what happened next... the Psycopathor mess... that kiss.. -you both smile at it-, The Phoenix massacre... a few other stuff... then Elyise... the Nanosurge..."

"And Heartbreak" he adds when you fail to do so.

"Yeah. Heartbreak"

This is not kool. You don't even know where to begin. He holds your hand... slowly. You don't pull back this time.

"You're cold," he says taking both your hands in his.

"So that bitch... he was from the farm too. But different. He just wanted to Kill everyone. Everywhere. Including himself. I think he got off killing himself while possessing other people's bodies if that makes sense? Addicted to suicide so to speak. I'd say he was a living weapon even."

"Shit"

"You saw what he did to the city... to everyone. To Anathema" You swallow hard. "I was right there... I should have done something... should have..."

"There's nothing you could have done"

"You don't know that... I just thought Steel's Mind Dampener would protect us? I couldn't use my powers all that much, so I didn't think anyone else could. But Heartbreak... went right through it..."

"None of us knew. They sent us in the dark"

"They did. The farm fucked up big time. Releasing that thing..." you sigh. "I managed to get up to it... I walked to it and shot it. Several times... and It still wouldn't die"

"Is that when..."

"It made taste the gun. It wasn't even angry. Just wanted me to taste it... Took his time. UNtil you stopped me."

"I couldn't stop you"

"No. No, you could not" you pull back your hands and cover your face. It's too much. The fucking memories.

"Want to stop?"

"I told you, we're doing this..."

"Then scooch," he says.

"What?"

"You heard me," he says. You stand up, and he lays down on the couch, then pulls you down over him too, wrapping arms around you.

"Seriously?" you smile "This can't be comfortable"

"Whatever. Now you can go on," he says tightening his grip for a moment.

"Idiot" You feel stupid like this, but at the same time, It's somehow making you feel safer. You decide to trust him, he's the one who knows the tricks of bodily contact after all.

"I can be your idiot if you need me"

"And now you're corny too" you clear some more tears again.

Silence. He waits for you to continue...

"He... It... It broke something in my mind. Made me stop caring about life. Found all of my fears and magnified them by a thousand. I never had such high self-esteem, you know that, but... he made me see myself as this repulsive thing... Like I had no right to be alive. Just a waste of oxygen, bringing problems to everyone... And offered me a release, If i just did what he said and jumped the window. I tried to resist. Tried to hold on to the good memories but... besides you, I realized I didn't have that many... That I was just a mess." Your voice breaks for a few seconds "He must have done the same to Anathema"

"You're a human just like me. And whatever he did to you, it's not true, you know this" he says giving you a soft kiss on the neck.

Your voice turns shakey as you share the darker parts of your story...

"They took me in that ambulance... I don't remember everything. Took me back, and fixed me... and then.. then started figuring out what to do with me."

"How did they do that?"

"They interrogated me... dampened the cell. Used different methods. I asked them to set me free. I told them ..." it takes a few tries to actually say it "...I told them the rangers were going to rescue me. I told them you were going to come for me. I kept saying that... so many times… I was sure my best friend Charge would come in, beat the bad guys and we’d be off, like always… I was so fucking naive!"

You can feel his reaction. Now it's his turn to cry.

"I didn't know Cyrus... If I had known... "

"OF course you didn't… But I still kept waiting for you. And you never came. Also, as I kept insisting with that, It turned out to be a huge mistake. They panicked"

"What... why?"

"Because they knew just how close Sidestep and Charge were. They thought you had to know I was a regene. That I would have told you at some point. They were thinking you would reveal what they had done to the world."

"But I didn't"

"No. And I told them that. I didn't know what would they have done if they thought you were a security risk to them... I told them I had never told you... and they didn't believe me. So they started the... enhanced... interrogation and re-education"

"Torture?"

"Yeah. THat's the word. And also they wanted to do full medical exams and testing... very painful medical tests... They thought my powers had improved a bit. They kept wanting bone marrow. I'm not sure why. They took samples so many times... "

"Shit... shit... How long?" he asks at last.

"I have no idea. Months at least. They did waterboarding, electroshock... truth serums... chemicals... sleep deprivation, food deprivation, cold... and then they brought in the psychologists. Those can torture you pretty badly as well, you know?"

He just holds on to you, listening to your words. You wish you could stop, but you're not finished. You have to get this out because if you don't, you'll never do it.

"They sent a new handler to oversee my... procedure. Funny thing he was a Sidestep fan back when I was in costume... So he was in charge of talking to me whenever I wasn't being dragged into some testing chamber. To be the "Good Cop"

and ... he... " you rub your eyes. This is too hard.

"What did he do, Cyrus?" you can feel he probably can already tell.

"He... used me. He fucked me. I was his plaything... He boasted about owning me with the others. I tried to get him to stop at first... but then he would beat me, and call the guards on me... and then it'd be even worse... so I just... let him. I just stopped caring."

Ricardo's gone completely motionless behind you, except for the heavy breathing on his chest. Now he's angry as well.

"I'm going to kill him... I'm going to kill him, Cyrus. I'm going to find him and kill him... " he repeats a few times. You just stay still. You used to dream about killing him, even before you left the farm.

"In the end, I didn't care. Because they reminded me I wasn't human. I was back to being a tool in their box. That's what they called this... "Induced depersonalization". Reduce us back to being what we were meant to be once more. They had a lot of experience with escapees like me. I couldn't understand why was this happening to me. Why was everything so unfair. I just knew it was my own fault because that's what they kept telling me..."

He holds you as if his arms could heal. You can feel him trembling behind you. His tears on your neck. You knew this would break him. Why are you even telling him this? These secrets only bring pain...

"One day he came in... and told me to stop asking for the Rangers to rescue me. He told me you knew all along. That it was just a delusion of mine. That you handed me over to the Directive after Heartbreak when you saw my Tattoos. He told me we weren't friends. That you had moved on. I didn't want to believe it... but they drugged me. And then they showed me a video of you living your ordinary life. Getting awards and medals for more heroics through the city without me. You know, being happy. While I was back there"

"Did... Did you believe it?" he asks unsteadily

"Yeah. I bought theyr story. My mind was a fucking mess, they could have fed me any story they wanted by then. I hated you. I hated you so much... and I hated myself mostly, for being so stupid. That very night, I tried to kill myself. Tried to force him to choke me, even trough the dampener. I didn't even realize I was doing it... until I felt I was inside his body."

"You.."

"They stopped him. They just thought he had done it by himself. You know, he had been torturing me for months. They thought he was losing sight of his goals. They replaced him soon enough. A new handler came in, and It went on, and on... But I had learned something. I learned I could still use my powers"

"And then?"

"They started trusting me with small things again. I had undergone their "Process" so I was a loyal tool once more. They had me mess up the minds of other regenes for them. Inside the farm mind you, they weren't going to let me out again...

"Until I escaped. It's a bit blurry about how I did it... I possessed several people. I was drugged half the time too. I just remember I had someone drive me off the desert, inside a supply box... the rest is ... gone" you say finally.

"I remember I squatted a room. I was just using my powers freely then. Got drunk. Did several drugs for months. I was always hiding in filthy hotel rooms or sleeping in alleys... I just... sort of gravitated towards Los Diablos I guess"

"I saw you" you continue. "I almost talk to you... but I was... very confused. I still think you knew what had happened to me and did nothing. I thought you abandoned me there. I walked up to my Tomb, and Anathema's... And I came up with a fucked up plan to cause a new mess I guess?"

"If only I had known..."

"Yeah... well at least... at least now you know."

He sighs softly.

"Well that's.. the whole story... except for one more thing I guess"

"Tell me"

"I just... You know... Sometimes I still feel like he was right? Heartbreak? When he told me that I don't deserve to live"

"Cyrus you're a good person. You have a lot to live for."

"Do I?" you ask him a bit unsure “Because sometimes I don’t know Ricardo. I mean do you even see a future for me? One in which I don’t end dissected on a laboratory?”

"You saved the city countless times. You're a hero. I'm going to be here for you, as long as it takes. And you do deserve to live like everyone else, ok? And we’ll make a future for you. I’ll make sure of it." he says behind you.

You close your eyes. Your eyes feel watery and you just are just weak and tired. He keeps speaking, saying something meant to be comforting. He holds you tighter as he notices you're shaking all over. You can feel the warmth of his breath over your ear tough the words lose all meaning.

You're overcome once more, with that familiar sensation of pointlessness. Feeling like you're dangling over a dark bottomless pit. He's holding you now, but does it make a difference?

Does it really?

"I'm here for you Cyrus. Always" he says as if he heard the question in your mind.

.......................................

He stays the night. He takes you for a walk through the beach the next day and makes sure you make an appointment with your psychiatrist before leaving to work.

Life goes on, not caring you can't shake the feeling that you were hit by a bus. There's a big relief, but also anxiety. You're not sure what's going to happen now that he knows.

And eventually nothing bad happens but you can’t shake the feeling that it will. You just know it will. Still, he just grows much closer than he ever was to you.

Having someone who actually knows you accept you as you are is a whole new thing. It’s scary, and it's not going to be easy getting used to it.

The numb sensation stays with you for a few more weeks. ____________________________ My fanfics: https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/181692759294/my-fanfiction-for-fallen-hero DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fan fiction using characters and the setting of the Fallen Hero: Rebirth and upcoming Fallen Hero: Retribution games written by Malin Riden. I do not claim ownership of any characters from the Fallen Hero wold. These stories are a work of my imagination, and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon. These works are intended for entertainment outside the official storyline owned by the author. I am not profiting financially from the creation of these stories, and thank the author for her wonderful game/s, without which these works would not exist.

#fallen hero: rebirth #fallen hero spoilers #fanfiction #Long chunk of text

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rpgwrites · 5 years

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11 Questions

I was tagged by @wickedwitchofthewilds and @s0me-writer Thank you both for the tag!!

Tagging: @garrus, @kenshi-vakarian7, @ladyinthebluebox, @autodiscothings, @pigeontheoneandonly, @randomlygeneratedstring, @schoute, @n0rmandysr1, @inquartata30, and @forlornmelody, with no obligations.

Here are your questions:

1. What is your favourite colour?

2. Do you have any good news to share?

3. What is one thing you hated, but never truly understood, that people do?

4. What is your general idea about people?

5. Recommend me a song.

6. Share one of your old-time favourite fics you’ve read.

7. What is an important lesson you’ve learned from your life?

8. What makes you happy?

9. Do you like to spend an evening alone at home or out with friends?

10. How many languages can you speak? What are they?

11. How are you doing?

Questions by @wickedwitchofthewilds

1. What song is currently your fave?

Honestly, I don't have a favourite song right now. I should get one and then some more. I might perform in October and I need to pick some songs to sing. So I guess I'll go and listen to some music and decide.

2. What is your favorite thing to create (draw, write, etc.)

Music. I would love to write some songs one day. Last time I did was in High school for an Assignment I got from my music class.

3. Who is your favorite Superhero, supervillain, mutant, etc?

I always really liked Batman.

4. Your favorite childhood video game or board game?

Lol, I really liked to play Monopoly when I was a kid. Fun times.

5. How many WIPs do you have?

9 and counting. Depending on what you define as an WIP. Currently I'm writing 3 WIPS but the rest are floating around in my head.

6. Is there anything you’re currently excited for?

So, Friday the 9th is National Women's day which means I have a long weekend. And I hope I can get some writing done because lately I've been really struggling to write. So it's possible that in the whole long weekend I'll only write a line. I think I finally figured out the reason and I'll need to work through it. So it might be a while that I'll keep struggling.

7. What is your favorite animal (real or fantasy)?

I always loved horses.

8. What is your favorite headcanon about any character?

I don't know. I always really liked the idea of Reyes (Mass Effect: Andromeda) neither is the good nor the bad guy. I always really loved characters like that.

9. What is your favorite snack food?

Lemons. I love to eat sour things.

10. What is your favorite animated movie?

I'm not sure I have a favourite one. But as a kid I really loved Aladin. Always loved characters like Aladin.

11. There is a tiny door in my closet that creeps me out. Should I open it?

I want to say yes, if you do it then it can't bother you anymore. But I'll probably say leave it, think about it. Do you really want to know what's behind that door? Will it be worth it? If it still bothers or creeps you out then sure, go for it.

Questions by @s0me-writer

1) I also want to know what your dream pet would be.

I would love to have a sharpei dog or a huskey with blue eyes. But honestly, I also feel it's cruel to have huskeys where I live becuase it's hot here. They can be easily found here, but still.

2) How long would you last in a zombie apocalypse?

This is me being realistic, not pessimistic.

So, getting supplies will be really important. People would want to get food first, that’s pretty important. And let’s be honest. Do we ever see people that depend on medical supplies in movies or series where there’s a zombie apocalypse? No, not really and if we do well they never last long. And since I’m a diabetic I don’t think I’ll last long either. Maybe my insulin will keep me for a couple of weeks but sooner or later I’ll run out. Maybe there’s a pharmacy that will have some sort of stock left but sooner or later insulin will be scarce. The people that do has it won’t give it for nothing. I’ll run out of needles and testing strips too. I might survive a while without it, but sooner or later I won’t be able to and then I’ll be a liability to others.

3) If you could learn the absolute and total truth to one question, what would you ask?

Oh wow, there's a couple. One question I had for most of my life is, why am I diabetic? And yes, yes, I know my pancreas stopped working one day, but why? There must be a reason, right?

Generally I never really asked this question out loud because well everyone has their own opinions. There's no family history of it. The one doctor said it's possible that a virus or something attacked my pancreas but I didn't have one that time. So that didn't really make sense. When I was a kid my mom thought it was because of stress. The reason she thought it was because I started to get symptoms at the age of 5 and it's around that time my parents started to get problems. The timing fits but I disagree.

Apparently, there are some unknown reasons people can become diabetics (just what I've heard) so I'll probably never know. Just something to think about.

4) If you could ask for advice from any historical figure, who would it be?

Maybe, Jan van Riebeeck.

5) Add on to above- What would you ask this historical person?

Honestly, I’m not sure if he is the right person for this. I don’t know who is. But I would ask him what he thinks of the current situation South Africa is in. I would ask, what he thinks he should do to do better. To stop doing the wrong things and start to do the right ones. To be able to forgive and forget and move on to a better future.

6) If you had a theme song, what would it be?

Hmm... not sure. Maybe I want to break free- Queen. I always liked the idea of freedom.

7) What do you miss most about being a kid?

I miss watching movies with my dad. I used to visit him and we saw movies together. I'm not really sure why I miss it though.

8) What fact amazes you every time you think of it?

What service dogs are capable of doing.

9) Which pet made the biggest impact on your life? (If no pets, then a person.)

My first dog. I got him when I was 1. The reason my parents decided to get me a dog was because they didn’t want me to be alone. They were at work all day, and sister is 8 years older than me and my brother 10 years so they thought a dog would be a good idea. His name was Buksie. I told him all my secrets and feeling growing up, and he understood me. He went everywhere with me and we had a very special bond. He died when I was 11, and his death was really hard for me.

10) What makes a person beautiful to you?

a Person’s personality. And I don’t think this is a very popular opinion. This actually reminds me of a Psychology class. The lecturer asked, “If you walk into a room what attracts you to another person.” Basically, it was personality vs. looks. And of course, my lecturer pinpointed me so I gave my opinion. I told them I never liked someone because of looks. For me, it’s always been about personality. I always first needed to get to know the person a little bit different. I care more about what’s on the inside than the outside. That’s what matters to me. Which is probably why my friends (in school) always was attracted to the guys who were good looking and were in the first Rugby team where I just never saw it like that.

11) What makes you feel young?

Singing makes me feel young. Music makes me feel alive.

#11 Questions #About me

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kihuis · 5 years

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{04} Miracle Stranger

Kihuis’ days of Christmas series: Moon Taeil x Reader

Day Four: Reader is desperate to find a specific item for a Christmas present as it’s sold out everywhere so Taeil agrees to help find it.

Word Count: 2.6k Warnings: none!

This is the seventh toy shop you’ve stopped in for the last six blocks. There’s only three more within city limits and you’re not willing to hop on a train at this time of night especially during the holidays. Chances are, you’re not going to be able to find the right timing and you’d miss the right train car or even the right stop on the way.

Groaning in frustration, you shake your head at all the Marvel action figures, the Black Panther once again no where in sight. The sign advertising it outside the store didn’t warn you that it was sold out, even though right here, where the display for the popular toy says it in big red letters. Would have been nice to know this before you spent ten minutes in here navigating around other patrons and scurrying people trying to get their last minute gifts for the kids in their families.

The only thing your nephew asked for from your for Christmas was a genuine Black Panther action figure in mint condition. Getting it now would be a bit expensive, but you’re willing to do anything for the kid, that is, if you can find the damn thing before Christmas actually gets here.

You pace your way to the front of the store, stopping by the help counter that’s right in front of the entrance. The man behind the counter looks exhausted and you wonder if he’s been working all day. You can relate, having been around the entire the city since nine in the morning.

“Hi, you’re sold out of the Black Panther figurine,” you say once you reach the counter. “I need to know if there is any toy store around here that isn’t sold out of it, but not any on the east side because I’ve already scavenged.”

He stares at you with a blank expression and for a second you wonder if he heard a single word you said. But when his tired voice comes through his lips, you know this isn’t the first time he’s been asked the same exact question today.

“I’m sorry Miss. I only work at this store so I don’t know the inventory of others. I can order the toy for you if you wish.”

“When will it come in?” you ask.

He pretty much rolls his eyes as he stifles a yawn against his palm. “Purchases online typically take ten to fourteen business days to arrive in store.”

“Well I need it before the new year, so that won’t work for me,” you say frustratingly, growing tired of his attitude. But you’ve worked in a similar industry, so you don’t want to give him one back especially considering you don’t know how long he’s been working today.

“Is there anything else I can help you find, Miss?” he deadpans.

You sigh and tell him no before turning to leave. At this point, you wonder if it will even be possible to get the gift before tomorrow night which is when your train leaves to head to your childhood home where the whole family meets up for the holidays.

Once out in the cold air of December, you shiver a bit in your coat and look down the crowded street. There’s many last minute shoppers like you, rushing around for the final pieces of their loved ones and the like. It’s the craziest time of year and you never learn to get things done ahead of time, causing you to always be surrounded by excited and stressed shoppers, yourself being one of them.

Heaving a sigh, you pull out your phone and prepare to send your brother a text. You might as well let him know that if you can’t find the toy today, you’ll have to opt to get something different tomorrow morning.

Sold out everywhere. Checking a couple more stores but I’m not confident. He likes chocolate right?

Not a revolutionary gift, but it might have to do. At least food items are restocked daily at the grocery stores so you might have to resort to that.

You begin to make your way down the street towards the next toy store, weaving through foot traffic that’s headed in the opposite direction. Checking the time, you don’t even realize you’ve been out this long. The sun will start setting in less than an hour. Talk about a busy day.

Once you reach the toy shop, you’re disappointed but also relieved at the same time to see a sold out sign on the figurine you need. Sure, it obviously sucks they’re out but it’s nice that they at least gave you a heads up so you wouldn’t have to spend another twenty minutes looking aimlessly for a toy you won’t find.

“You have got to be kidding me,” you say at the sign, hanging your head back in defeat.

“You’re not the first to come by looking for that toy,” a voice says to your right. You look over to see a guy sitting on a stool with a guitar strapped around his chest, obviously taking a break from playing to warm up his fingerless-gloved hands. “It’s a popular one this year.”

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised then,” you reply.

The man smiles a bit and removes his guitar strap, placing the instrument back into its case, which has a few bills and coins in it. “Getting it as a Christmas present I assume?”

“For my nephew,” you answer with a nod. This guys is pretty cute, you have to admit. “He’s a big fan of the Marvel franchise. Has every single action figure but the Black Panther.”

Guitar guy stands from his stool and shoves his hands into his coat pockets to keep warm. “Where have you checked for it?”

“Pretty much everywhere. There’s a couple more stores down the street but I’m pretty much about to give up,” you say, nodding your head down the sidewalk.

“It’s a little out of the way, but I know for sure there’s a Marvel novelties store just outside the city. Just in case you can’t find it here,” he adds with a shrug.

You phone beeps in your pocket, a text from your brother saying not to worry about the toy and yes, your nephew does like chocolate - caramels are his favorite. Typing out a quick reply, you put your phone away and look back up to the guitar man.

“I was trying to avoid getting on a train this time of the day,” you say. “It’s all crowded and crazy right now. I think it’ll be too overwhelming.”

“Do you want some company?” he asks cautiously. If this guy wasn’t so charming with his looks and voice, you’d be a bit creeped out by the proposal. “I mean, I know where the store is and I’m headed that way anyways.”

You raise your eyebrows in question. “You’re willing to help a struggling stranger on a busy evening like this?”

“It’s the holidays. Why not help out someone who needs it? And I’m Taeil,” he suddenly says, sticking his hand out to you. “If it makes you feel better knowing my name.”

With a weird expression, you shake his hand, relaying your own name to him. It’s still odd to have a totally random man ask if you’d like help, but something about Taeil makes you want to trust him, so you do.

“As long as I can be home before it gets too dark. I’m leaving early tomorrow morning.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem. The store is just outside of town. Train should take less than ten minutes to get there and back.” Taeil closes his guitar case and picks it up, strapping it across his chest. “If we go there first, you should have time to check somewhere else in town.”

“Okay, sure,” you tell him. “Thanks.”

“Not a problem,” he quips with a smile.

Taeil leads you down the crowded street with his hands in his pockets, making light conversation on your way to the train. You learn he’s from the same town you are, but is headed further north to spend the holidays with his large group of friends. You tell him a bit about your nephew and his love for the Marvel comics and movies.

He laughs as you relive this year’s Halloween when the child coaxed you into dressing as Mary Jane Watson to his Spiderman.

“He of course got tired and I was forced to carry him on my back all night,” you’re telling him as you approach the train station. “But I was happy to do it.”

“He sounds like the little firecracker,” Taeil laughs. "I hope we can find this action figure. It sounds like he’s pretty passionate about the franchise.”

“Me too,” you respond.

You follow Taeil onto the next train car, instantly regretting getting on the train this time in the evening. It’s almost too crowded and you hardly have room even in the corner. Luckily, two men stand from their seats to get off the train, leaving room for you to sit. Taeil remains standing next to you, letting a child take the seat beside you.

This kid has in his hands the one thing you’ve been searching for all day: a Black Panther action figure, still in its box and in mint condition. You smile down at the boy despite feeling a surge of jealousy fire through your veins.

Taeil must see your aggravation, because he gives you a small nod and wink. You want to feel grateful for him being so reassured that you might find the toy at the Marvel store, but Christmas can’t always be full of miracles like in the movies and you’re losing hope, just the pessimist that you tend to be.

Once out of town and to the first stop on the ride, you and Taeil get off the train. You’re thankful to be back into the open air, glad you’re not cramped on a train car anymore, but the sun is starting to make its way down and tiredness is beginning to catch up to you.

The two of you trek through the semi-crowded streets until you reach a large store decked out in all Marvel decorations and Christmas lights. You’ve never been this way out of town, so you never knew there was a Marvel store this close to where you live. You’re impressed at the size of it, too.

“It doesn’t say sold out yet,” Taeil says, pointing to the giant sign in the window advertising the Black Panther action figure. He leads you into the store where there’s a few shoppers littered throughout.

A couple kids are running around with giant Hulk hands and Iron Man masks. Dads are lined up by the comic books, looking through the older additions and moms are in the check out line, ready to purchase the last minute toys. You notice one of them is holding the Black Panther in her arms, clutching it close to her chest. Your face lights up in hope, thinking you might just find what you’ve been looking for.

You make your way through the store, looking for a worker who can lead you to the action figures. Taeil hangs behind, looking through the Marvel based games and trading cards.

As soon as you find a woman with a name tag you stop her.

“Excuse me, where are your action figures located?” you ask.

She points towards the back of the store. “Right back there. Any in particular you’re interested in?”

“Black Panther.”

The girl cringes sheepishly, sucking in a breath. “I just saw the last one we had stocked taken off the shelf just tow minutes ago.”

You feel your shoulders drop in absolute agony and annoyance. If you can’t find the one Marvel toy you need a Marvel store, you’re not going to find it anywhere.

“Is there something else I can help you find?” the girls asks now, empathy laced in her voice. This obviously isn’t her first rodeo when it comes to a disappointed shopper.

“How often do you guys restock?”

“We get in orders every other day during the holidays today was the restock. I’m really sorry,” she tells you.

“Thanks,” you sigh, walking back towards the entrance. Taeil catches up to you as you walk out the door, pouting.

“Seriously? Sold out here, too?”

“It’s not that huge a deal,” you reply with a defeated shrug. “Some things just aren’t meant to be. He wanted a popular action figure, it shouldn’t be surprising it’s sold out everywhere.”

“I feel bad that we came all this way,” he grumbles, glancing back at the store for a moment.

“It’s okay. I’m actually glad you came with me. It was nice having company,” you tell him honestly. You wouldn’t even mind getting to see him again, but you don’t tell him that.

“At least let me see that you get home okay,” he suggests, nodding towards the train station again.

“I’d like that.”

Twenty minutes later, Taeil is walking you down the street towards your apartment complex, you unfortunately empty handed. You plan to stop in the morning to look for a bag of caramel chocolates for your nephew seeing as you couldn’t get him the gift he really wanted.

“Thanks again for offering to help,” you tell Taeil as you approach your door.

“Shame we couldn’t find your nephew’s gift,” he replies.

“There’s always next year,” you say with a smile. “I’m not complaining that I met you though. Maybe we’ll have to look around town for presents more often.”

“Maybe so,” he laughs.

Taeil watches you unlock your front door before sticking his hand out to you again. You smile shyly and shake it, thanking him again before he disappears down your street. It’s only now that you realize you didn’t get his number, so you quickly try to catch up with him, but somehow he’s already long gone. Confused, you look up and down your street again, trying to catch any glimpse you can of his brown hair and guitar, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

The next morning, you wake to get ready to head to your hometown. You’re still disappointed you weren’t able to find your nephew the action figure he so desperately wanted, but you can’t dwell on it too much because it’s Christmas time and it’s supposed to be a happy and warm holiday. You’re sure your nephew would just appreciate you being home if anything.

After gathering the few gifts you have for the rest of you family, you make your way out the door but nearly kick over something on your doormat. When you look down, you notice a plain box with a note on top of it. Picking it up, you walk back into your apartment, thinking it’s just some mail that a neighbor dropped off, but when you see your name written in unfamiliar penmanship, you stop short, seeing the message written on the note.

Hope your nephew gets everything else he wants this year. And I hope you do too! :) xx Taeil

Eyebrows creasing together, you open the box and your heart nearly stops. Inside is the one thing you’ve been looking for and was never able to find: a Black Panther, unopened, mint condition action figure, signed by the actor himself.

So many questions run through your head: how did Taeil manage to get this? How long has he had it? And why give it up to a stranger he helped for one night?

Flipping over the note from Taeil, you’re glad to see a phone number scrawled across the back.

Checking the time, you realize you need to go now if you don’t want to miss your train. You quickly close the box, not bothering to wrap it and take the note with you, fully anticipating to call Taeil as soon as you get the chance.

Maybe Christmas miracles can happen after all.

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lydiaandarry · 5 years

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{5 Cartoons That Could Possibly Survive a Live Action TV Remake}

Hello there!

My name is Arabella but you can call me Arry, if it’s easier. I don’t know about you but I basically grew up on cartoons. And it seems to be a new craze in television history for cartoons to be remade into new adaptations for a new audience. It doesn’t surprise me that cartoons are the main source for this as they are noticeable. Recently, Riverdale and Sabrina: The Teenage Witch have been remade into CW Television Shows. And while I find Riverdale to not be that great of adaptation and murder of character. I have heard more nicer things about Sabrina: The Teenage Witch yet never watched it. Despite this and me thinking this television shows have not survived their live-action adaptations. I will be listing five cartoons that I think could survive a Live-Action Adaptation and I will explain my reasoning and how it may be done and also issues that may be concerning. Let’s invade this topic!

(Scooby Doo)

My favorite cartoon of all time, Scooby Doo. I am nineteen years old and I have yet to grow out of Scooby Doo and probably never will. It is reaching its 50th year anniversary this year and is still a cult classic. We have had four (not including Daphne & Velma) live-action films that have featured Scooby Doo but we are talking about television shows here. I personally think that Scooby Doo could do better as a live-action television show because you can get multiple mysteries, more monsters and the characters will receive more development. You can also have guest star characters such as The Hex Girls. Yet I have my doubts due to how poorly Archie has been transformed with Riverdale. I feel like Scooby Doo will help avoid stereotypes and forced diverse tropes. As the gang is one of the most diverse group of characters ever. It would be extra amazing if they added in the 60’s-70’s fun charm that the cartoon had. And of course, kept it light-hearted and fun yet aiming it for more young adults and less-so teenagers and children. This will open doors. After watching Daphne & Velma, I do have concerns with forced diversity that may murder the characters as Daphne and Velma did not portray either character accurately. In the name of forcing female empowerment yet ignoring the female empowerment that is there. Fred is the brave, kind-hearted, hilarious and slightly clueless jock who is friends with everyone. Daphne is the fashion-motivated, kick-ass and clumsy popular girl whose greatest value is how quick she finds out things. Velma is the intelligent, sarcastic nerd who is an equal to Fred and fits in perfectly. Shaggy is the hippie who is hilarious, a scaredy cat and athletic who has yet to use more than 1% of his power. And Scooby Doo is the animal sidekick who has character development and has an actual snack named after him. It would make a great television show if done properly and written great.

(The Jetsons)

I promise, these are not all Hanna-Barbera shows. Except that all of them could be made into wonderful adaptations. The Jetsons is about a futuristic family who live in 2062 that includes George Jetson, a hard-working father. His wife Jane who shops and takes care of the house. His oldest child and only daughter, Judy whose a teenage girl and slightly rebellious. And his youngest child and only son Elroy whose an intelligent kid. And their dog Astro and robot Rosie. Non-surprisingly, The Jetsons is actually outdated and nothing like the actual future. This adds a lot of fun aspects with mixing vintage and newly futuristic ideas. While introducing new concepts into the already existing plot. The Jetsons unfortunately was limited due to animation budget and short-running time with only two seasons that they weren’t able to expand the universe. I feel as if, a new revival of the show could potentially expand the universe and make the characters a bit more realistic. As they are your average futuristic family who can go through relatable issues while keeping with the theme. They could also embark on making Judy more fashion-forward and gifting us unique character designs for the character. As I know that Judy was my favorite character and definitely someone that I could relate to. And of course, keeping the 60’s charm and having more humor. Less dramatics for TV Remakes please! Embrace the humor. And sci-fi is definitely still selling in pop culture and with the graphics we have nowadays, The Jetsons would look absolutely stunning compared to what would have happened if they had perhaps made one in the past. Again, it all comes down to casting and writing. The real-life aesthetics of The Jetsons would be beautiful cinematography wise. It may seem a bit more impossible due to how high a budget would probably have to be to achieve most of the futuristic aspects like flying cars and in the air scenery. Yet the best thing to take advantage of with The Jetsons is how vintage the futuristic aspects are, they can really use a retro futuristic vibe. The Jetson’s futuristic isn’t on the same level as Star Wars or even typical Sci-fi. The effects do not need to be overly complicated as it is mostly dependant on vibe and charm. They could very much go for an Indie vibe where it could be made with a low budget. Choosing style and substance over realism and overdone effects.

(The Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy)

Hear me out, as this is a weird one. I grew up with The Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy and I lowkey blame it for my dark sense of humor. Mandy was one of those unique characters whose clothes did not match her personality whatsoever. Billy was humorous with how stupid yet straightforward he was. And Grim is… I relate to Grim in my old age. This show was such a creative premise to young me that like I adored it. Of course, I loved all things creepy. But seeing that Billy and Mandy and the other young characters were only 9, it is a realization that it may be physically impossible to have a live-action show where the young actors could react in a way similar to let’s say Mandy and Nergal Jr. However after some consideration, I realized that as this will probably be a revamped version, that they could age up the characters. And we could see how Mandy, Billy and the rest have developed into older ages. This of course brings up a lot of new ideas and concepts, new plotlines, and new character developments. Aging them to be teenagers and even young adults can add a more mature theme while keeping the dark humor. It can be darker yet still keep the fun and theatrical side. As it would no longer be targeted to young children but more so, the audience who grew up with the show. Seeing how our childhood characters have grown up to be near our ages. This could bring up more conflicts, relationships, and dynamics. Especially because a popular ship is Mandy and Billy as they are older, so it would be interesting to see if that would come to screen and if they would be compatible being at least ten years older at most. And of course, the graphics would absolutely fantastic since we have ways to make CGI look realistic and would bring on the creep factor. And perhaps, they could even give Nergal Jr more of a character and more humorous scenes. It could survive a TV Remake in this sense because it would be more so, a sequel and they would be working on newer material and not trying to perfect older material which may come in handy with writing.

(Totally Spies)

If anyone asked me what my three favorite girl-based cartoons were as a child, I would always respond with, “Powerpuff Girls, Bratz, and Totally Spies”. Totally Spies was my ultimate dream television show, they were my Charlie’s Angels before I discovered Charlie’s Angels. Even in my youth, they were relatable. And I don’t care what anyone says, Totally Spies was ahead of its time and very diverse. You had Clover, the fashion-forward girl with a sassy personality and although her flaw was being shallow, she usually always learned her lesson. Sam, the introverted and intelligent one of the group who figures things out quickly yet is too quick to trust others. Alex, the hilarious and tough one who has problems with being invisible. They were feminine and kick-ass and taught me that I shouldn’t be ashamed to be into clothes or hair or makeup as I could still kick ass. I think Totally Spies has the diversity that Hollywood is looking for as they will not have to force anything into the mix, it can be a relatable and humorous show about three girls who are best friends and spies. They can have awesome character designs, great dialog, and mix realistic issues into the fictional issues of being a teenage spy. While also showing girl power and how to handle evil people. While also bringing back former fashion trends, especially the 70’s that Totally Spies is known for. With cool costumes and cool gadgets. This would be a kick-ass show when given the right humor, writing, casting and charm. No one can prove to me otherwise.

(Daria)

I am ending this on a rather tricky note as this television show really depends. With the other ones, they’re classics but changes can be made. Daria was ahead of its time and has relatable humor that even fits now. I remember discovering Daria when I was fifteen and going through a tough time and she really learnt to accept myself and my sense of humor. Now while Daria is being rebooted and I have lots of issues with the reboot before it has even come out like the fact it’s called “Daria & Jodie” when Jane Lane was a bigger character than Jodie yet they just ignore her because diversity. I do think if they were to reboot Daria properly, a live-action television show could be great. It will give a new element to the already great show. Of course, casting Daria would be rather hard as you need someone who can remain likeable yet still have a sarcastic aura. And Jane, the slightly more expressive witty best friend. And of course, Trent, the hot older brother of Jane who should have gotten with Daria! Daria is a great show for all ages, especially teenagers to young adults as it really shows the humor of common high school stereotypes. While keeping the complexity of each stereotype in its sense. A lot of Daria’s quotes still hit a string with me to this day. Especially the one where she is at college open-house and responds to the woman asking what goals she has, “My goal is to not wake up at 40 with the bitter realization that I’ve wasted my life on a job that I hate because I was forced to decide on a career in my teens”. That quote still stays by me as I am nineteen now and it’s like my life motto at the moment. And a live-action Daria could play off the nostalgia and have a lot of older watchers which will make it more money than a reboot that may destroy the characters for the sake of diversity. And forgets the true importance of Jodie. I would rather watch a live-action television show than a reboot cartoon as reboots never go well in cartoons.

Well, that was five cartoons that I feel can survive a live-action remake and how they could. Keep in mind that everything you just read is my opinion and I am not asking Hollywood to look at my post and make all of these into live-action television shows. As the thought of that frightens me. Yet I feel like with the right cast and writers, it can be done. Thank you for reading my post. If you like my post, feel free to follow our Tumblr as I write posts on every Wednesday and Saturday similar to this one. And also feel free to like or reblog the post. I’ll see you on Wednesday! Peace out!

#television shows #live action remake #post #scooby doo #the jetsons #hanna barbera #the grim adventures of billy and mandy #cartoon network #totally spies #girl power #female empowerment #daria #my opinion #cartoon characters

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ikesenlemonadestandstories · 6 years

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Going Overboard

Alright, so I have a handful of requests that I’m still working on (doing them in the order that they arrived) but I also hammered out this idea with @little-mini-me-world for another short story after watching too much of the Hallmark channel, just before they started coming in and I’m happy to announce I finally got it down on paper...er...the computer??

Keep on keeping on Fam! You guys are the butter to my bread!

All the other Ikésen works can be found here on my Master List. Read at your leisure. I’m a bit stuck on ‘Retrograde Spell’ so i’m just kind of hanging onto it until I get smacked with more inspo...probably at the gym...that’s usually where I’m at when ideas like that pop up.

Since it’s a story and because I’m rambling so much up here, I’m throwing it under the cut to keep clutter to a minimum...unless you’re on mobile...then you get to suffer and just scroll for 8000 years (^ . ^)v since I’ve not gotten that figure out yet...

[Masamune]

I hadn’t realized I couldn’t control my feelings for you until I saw you out of the corner of my eye, dressed to the nines in a matte navy dress that cut off right above the knees, it happened to have a gold zipper running up along the entire back of the dress and I wondered if anyone tonight would have the satisfaction of undoing you the way I used to.

Everything about it was perfect, just like you, hugging every curve just right, showcasing every single asset in such a modest and delicate way, I didn’t have words anymore. Your naturally curly hair had grown out and was tamed into waves for the occasion, gently cresting like the sea down your back. It was lighter than I remember it being, now the color of cherry soda instead of a deep fudge. Your skin was still a subtle olive that complimented your bright hazel eyes and your face and chest were dusted with freckles. While physically you were older, everything more refined and mature, your expressions still sparkled with the same familiar innocence I remembered fondly.

You were stunning, I knew you would be here, the bride was your best friend but I wasn’t exactly expecting to see you with...him. You were out on the floor dancing with Yukimura, when had that happened?

Damn...I stared at my cup wondering if Mitsuhide had managed to slip me alcohol when I wasn’t looking. That’s the only reason all of these wild unwanted thoughts would be coming to mind unchecked right?

Aside from one glaring dark smudge, all of my memories with you were bright. I remember the summer before our senior year of college when I met you...I had spent every day at that zoo with Hideyoshi. I was his wing-man, for weeks I had tried to help him get with his childhood friend Mai.

When the poor guy got friend-zoned back in high school, he dug himself into an even deeper grave, proclaiming himself her ‘big brother’ to try to get just a tad more attention without drawing her ire. I about lost my mind with laughter when he told me about his situation one night when he got super trashed at a party for Nobunaga. He hadn’t done anything to change their relationship for years but we were almost through college and he couldn’t just be her friend anymore, and he wanted my help.

You approached me on a day, that was way to warm to be anywhere outside, in the middle of August, literally whispering to me from a bush in one of the monkey’s exhibits.

“Pssst…” I looked around “no down here...in the bush.” what the hell. “Meet me by the door to the cheetah habitat in twenty minutes.”

“And what if I don’t?”

“Than Hideyoshi’s going to be stuck in the brother-zone for life.”

You were brilliant. That one meeting was all I needed to realize you were a force to be reckoned with, smart and creative and incredibly helpful when it came to maneuvering Hideyoshi and Mai’s relationship. To my dismay, everything we thought up worked and he no longer needed a wing-man, so I no longer needed to visit the zoo...

I found that when I didn’t have to come meet with you anymore I got restless. So I did what my gut was telling me to do. I stood out by the tiger habitat you frequented, waiting for you to come out. When you did, I kissed you, and to my absolute pleasure you kissed me back. Everything about us seemed to gel, it was cohesive, we were a well oiled machine, parts moving in tandem. We had plenty of different opinions about life but most of the time, all it did was fuel healthy debates and a chance for the other to grow into new ideas. You challenged me and I loved every second of it, but it all went to hell when you got to veterinary school, but that was my fault.

You were upset when I broke it off, but I never saw you cry...heard about it a lot from Ieyasu and Hideyoshi afterward though. I thought I was doing you a favor...setting you free so you didn’t have to worry about taking care of some cook while you were off traveling and learning. I wanted you to have your own adventure without someone to tie you down. Instead I would dedicate myself to being someone you could rely on and approach you again when I got there, but now that I was I didn’t know how. I had always just done what made me happy. When I was with you, I was happy when you were happy. I made a decision about your life based on what I thought would make you happiest...and knowing now that it hadn’t done that made it all the more hard to go say something tonight.

“Everything alright Masamune? You look really out of it.” Hideyoshi came over to where I was leaning against a pillar.

“Yea, think I had too much to drink…” He paled

“I thought you stopped drinking after the pillow incident with (YN)?”

“I did...and this should just be sparkling water, but I just feel kind of off.” He shot a glare at Mitsuhide who dropped his fork and raised his hands in the air shaking his head as if to say he hadn’t done anything...for once. Smirk or no smirk...I believed him, I wasn’t fuzzy enough to be drunk.

“If you don’t feel good, you should go up to your room and rest. Aren’t you heading out on that cruise tomorrow?”

“Yea, but how could I miss this moment. It took forever to get you and Mai together and now I finally get to see the fruits of our labor and all for what? So I can leave before the party's over. I don’t think so. Besides I’m getting on the same cruise as everyone else here.”

“Right but you’re getting on it for work. Also...you got us together, I wouldn’t be mad if you headed out early to get some sleep. I don’t necessarily want my cruise ship’s ‘celebrity chef’ sick while he’s making my food.”

I clapped him on the shoulder. For once I didn’t have enough energy to argue with him, something about tonight wasn’t sitting right in my stomach. Congratulating my friend and Mai I dipped out heading for my room, hoping I’d be able to sleep off this strange feeling.

[YN]

“Hells…” you murmured under your breath

“What?” your friends Sasuke and Yukimura leaned over stating in unison

“My ex is here and he looks abso-freaking-lutly gorgeous...do you think he did that on purpose?”

“Wait? Who? Masamune?” Yukimura questioned

“Yea...who else…? I haven’t dated anyone since…”

“He looks pretty normal to me. If you’re going to keep staring at him like a creep you may as well go say something.” Sasuke chimed in

“No, no I can’t. He broke up with me, then went off and became this big time chef...it’s clear I was just holding him back.” you laid your head on the place setting in front of you. “Why would he want anything to do with a vet?”

“For starters you’re not just a vet...and I’m not sure...but he’s been looking over here pretty frequently himself. You sure you don’t want to go say something.”

“Yes Yukimura...as punishment for asking so many times I’m making you dance with me until I feel better.”

“What? Why me? Sasuke is way better at that sort of thing!”

“Trust me I don’t want to get stepped on by your big clumsy ass anyway but Sasuke’s not here.” You laughed at the disbelief that crossed his face.

“Kid’s a damn ninja, I swear.” Yukimura hissed under his breath.

You twirled around as gracefully as you could manage together, in a way that didn’t quite match ‘Play That Song’ - by Train but you were having fun and only sort of thinking about Masamune so it didn’t matter.

It was about two in the morning and everyone had done a great job closing up that wedding reception. Yourself included. You were more than a little tipsy and with Yukimura taking care of an absolutely sauced Sasuke, you were left to your own devices.

Stumbling through the hallway heels and purse dangling from your hands you made your way back to your hotel room. Just a few more feet and you would be at your door...you could do this...you teetered...you couldn’t do this. Before your face could kiss, what you were sure was a terribly dirty hallway, a set of hands grabbed you by the waist. When you turned around you saw three Nobunaga’s laughing down at you.

“Have a good night fireball?”

“Mhhhhh….”

“Not sure that counts as a response but I’ll take it as a sign of life. Can I help you do your room?”

He may have pulled you up slowly but all the movement made you motion sick...you couldn’t answer him out of fear of throwing everything up, instead you flashed your room key, with the numbers ‘509’ written in black permanent marker across the front.

“Wrong floor princess…you’re on 15 right now.” the last thing you remember was the mirth in his eyes. Then it all went black.

#ikesen #ikemen sengoku #ikésen #ikémen sengoku #ikesen masamune #ikesen masamune x reader #going overboard series #my story #fan fic #cybird #modern au #part 1

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muva--milaje-blog · 6 years

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librarian.

t'challa x black!reader (college au)

an: this was requested by @xclusvnani. thank you so much for requesting this. had a lot of fun writing this.

reader takes a trip to the library everyday just to see the handsome librarian t’challa.

warnings: fluff, sexual mentions, mentions death

"Y/N, you need a break, baby." Your mother, on the other end of this telephone conversation, pleads with you. Her naturally worrisome spirit coupled with her missing you and needing her only child around her is the basis for her call. Life just had not been the same for your mother since the death of your grandparents. "I am so proud of you. And, I know that you are taking those classes this summer so that you can graduate a semester early but I think you should come home. Even if it is for a weekend."

This is not, and will not, be the last time you hear your mother pleading for you to come home. The drive home from the college campus is approximately three hours. Not too long of a drive. However, you are on a mission to graduate from undergrad as soon as possible and get your Bachelor's degree. You welcome the calls from your mother daily. You miss her just as much as she misses you. You two have an extremely close relationship because it has always been just the two of you (and your grandparents). The ass that is supposedly your father skipped out before you were born. Your mother raised you as best as she could in that small ass two bedroom apartment in your hometown. As small as the apartment is, it is home. She worked a couple of jobs just to help you get to where you are now. The first couple of semesters, your tuition was paid for in full due to your mother's dedicated work ethic. It is only right that you work just as hard in your college classes.

"Mommy, I know...thank you, but I know." You assure her. Most of the time, you wish you were somewhere else. Rather than living on campus during the boring Summer semester and taking three classes, you'd rather be somewhere tropical, festive, and surrounded by your girls. Hell, at this point, you would take your childhood bedroom as a vacation spot. "Classes are almost over in July, then I'll be home. Just me and you, the couch, and our favorite movies." Your faves included almost every movie with Angela Bassett.

Your mother practically squealed and sighed in delight at the idea. She wanted to further your daily phone conversation but you told her that you had to go. You were heading to your college's library, your favorite spot at this school. You told her you loved her and hung up right before you walked in, pass the metal detectors, and straight to your regular location: the second floor. Due to the lack of students on campus for the summer, you knew that your regular spot would be available. There was a small nook on the library's second floor that included a couch, two chairs, and a coffee table. It is your hideaway from the rest of the library. You like to read, study, and write in that area. Also, it's where you can usually locate the man of your dreams as your friend Brie likes to refer to him as. As much as you do not want to admit to yourself and your friends, he is another reason you frequent the library.

You noticed him last Fall. He was following around one of the librarians, taking in information and nodding profusely. From what you could tell, he was eager to learn. Whenever he had a question or concern, he pressed his lips tightly together, quirked his eyebrows, and squinted his eyes. Whenever he learned something new, he nodded his head and smiled. It is a sexy, crooked smile. Of course, you know all of this because in between your reading, studying, and writing, you watch him. You noticed him way before he noticed you. You were sitting at your favorite spot when he breezed pass you with several books in his arms.

"Hello," He said to you. You looked upward at him from your position on the couch and nearly melted into a puddle that matched the one that was growing in between your thighs just at the sight of him. That accent, the way he said hello, you were taken aback. You were loss for words. He seemed to wait for you to say hello before he walked away.

"Hi," Your voice squeeked. You were immediately embarrassed. He did not laugh at you like you thought he would, he just smiled at you before walking away. You wanted to creep into a corner and disappear.

He would come over and say hello to you whenever he saw you. After the fifth time, he finally came over to you to say more than just a hello. But you couldn't hear him. You were listening to sweet R&B love songs of the 90s and 2000s through your earphones. Toni Braxton was making you miss a lover you never had when you felt a tap on your shoulder. It was him, Mr. Librarian, a nickname your friends dubbed him. You extracted your earphones from your ears, "Hi...?"

He smiled downward, in your direction, "Hi. I apologize for disturbing you during your studies but I wanted to ask a question,"

You thought he was going to ask you on a date. Maybe you two could have coffee together, preferably at the campus coffee shop. You are in love with their vanilla cappuccinos. However, he just wanted to know your reasoning for constantly returning to this same spot in the library. "Oh, well, I am an English major with a minor in Africana Studies. Most of the books that I need to use are in this section." You shrug. You did not let him know that his cosistent appearance in this section was another reason for your predictable return to this same nook.

"Africana Studies, eh?" He seemed pleased with your choice of study. "May I ask, why did you chose Africana Studies as an area of study?" He quirked his brows, pressed his lips together, and his eyes squinted at you. You play with the ends of your braids to calm the newfound nervousness. At this point, he sat down in one of the chairs.

You steadied your nervousness. He has an aura that commands your undivided attention. But, he gave you his undivided attention. "Why not be verse in the past, present, and future of my people? Black people, black culture, black histoty, blackness in its entirety is so rich. There is much that we know now but I'm sure there is much more that we have to learn." Any hint of nervousness you had detered. "So to answer your question, it was a necessary choice."

The smile that graced his lips did not falter. His smile was contagious. His smile, in turn, made you smile. And every time you saw him, your lips automatically curved into one. You two would have conversations about life on campus (including where are the best places to get good food), areas of study, and the library. You found out that he is a Graduate student studying International Relations. He is working in the library for financial reasons but also, he thoroughly enjoys literature. His love for literature began as a child. His mother forced him to read various literary texts to have a rich education and understanding of points of view that were similar and different than his. His father agreed that it would make him a better man and a better leader once he enters into the politics after college. When you found out his name, T'Challa Udaku, you had to know more about him.

You tried to Google search his name but nothing too juicy came up. He has a twitter where he discusses politics specifically foreign policy, soccer, threads with friends from back home, and how much he misses home. There was nothing hotepish. From what you could sumise, he does not currently have a girlfriend. He seemed to have threads with a someone named Nakia but those threads were older. Funny enough, you were able to find his sister. She seems like a jokester. You assume she probably makes fun of her brother but loves him dearly.

You dug a little deeper and asked your friend, Tiff, if she could find anything on him for you. Tiff was your roommate during your freshman year. You two have a sistership. She works in one of the university's offices. Simple enough, she had a way of looking at T'Challa's file. No it was not right but her helping you out was for research purposes. She could not provide much detail but that he is twenty eight years old, he's an International Student, and he attended school in England for his undergraduate studies. "And he is fine as hell. I see why you are stalking...I mean conducting research."

You learned so much about him during your conversations. You are thirsty and eager to learn more about him so you would find yourself in the library, looking for him. You figured out his work schedule on your own. You knew when he would clock in and out of his shifts.Your attention bounces around the second floor for him. You do not immediately go to your nook. However, he is nowhere in sight. You let out a frustrating sigh and venture over to your normal spot. As you approach, you notice him sitting in one of the chairs next to the couch. He is intently reading a novel: Chinua Achebe's A Man of the People. You recommended this book to him. There were two to-go coffee cups from the campus coffee shop on the table. The adrenaline that pumped inside you, calmed down. You cannot help but to smile at Mr. Librarian.

Your fingers tap his shoulder. He does not flinch. Instead, he looks up at you with a coolness that cannot be unmatched. "Y/N, hi."

"Hi, T'Challa. 'Got started on the novel already?" You sit down on your usual spot on the couch. You place your backpack next to you.

"I thought it was imperative. The way you described the novel, it was thrilling. I can already see such from the first couple of pages."

"Achebe was a genius," You grin. You can feel T'Challa's eyes search you. You catch a glimpse of him looking at your face, then your body, and back up to your face. You let him do so without any disturbance. At some point his stare made you nervous, now you lowkey bask in it. You crave it.

"I can already tell. Thank you for the recommendation. It is much needed to level out my course work and my position here. As a thank you, I went to the coffee shop. Vanilla cappuccino, right?"

He hands you one of the coffee cups. You take it, excitedly. Although it is summer, and it is hot, you will not deny yourself the flavor of a vanilla cappucino. You hum at the taste of the vanilla when you take a sip. "Thank you, T'Challa, you did not have to do this,"

"It is my pleasure Y/N." He pauses for a brief moment. He seems to mentally contemplate his next words. "Any way that I can bring you pleasure, I wish to do so." You sense that his words have a double entendre. He wants to bring you pleasure in the simple things like making you laugh, smile, and buying coffee for you. And, he wants to provide you a pleasure that awakens the sexual goodess within you. He wants to taste you on the tip of his tongue and make you come undone by the feel of him sliding inside of you. Your eyes meet his again, and they are lustful and hungry.

You contemplate your next move: either you pounce on this advancement or you act as if this conversation is not occurring. As many times as you have come to the library to see him and conducted as much outside research on who T'Challa is, you are not going to let this opportunity pass you by. You reach for his hand, so mighty, grand, and rich of chocolate. All you can think about is if his dick has the same description. You are sure that you will find out soon. "Is there anywhere that we can go that is private?" As much as you want to have engage in a public library fantasy, you want to be careful. You did not want T'Challa to lose his job or for your business to float around campus despite the lack of students on campus at the moment.

He takes your hand, enveloping into his. You follow him with your backpack and coffee in tow. Nearby, there is a media center room. There is a sign on the door that says: DO NOT USE. THANK YOU! You used one of these rooms before while working on a group project. It is difficult to book one of these rooms. However, Mr. Librarian has the ultimate access. He unlocked the room with a key. You slide pass him, feeling the hardness of his body against yours. You cannot help but to bite down on your lip at the feeling. He locks the door behind him. "No one is going to come in here, right?"

"This room has been unoccupied in months." He assures you, he places his coffee cup and novel down on a nearby desk. You do the same with your things. You two stare at each other, daring each other to make the first movement. "Come here." He challenges you with a confident smirk.

You shake your head, "No. Come here."

"Are you challenging me, Y/N?" He inches closer to you. You playfully shrug. He is now grinning at you. "So, you can come to the library, almost daily, to see me but you cannot come to me now? I am sure that you are tending to your studies but I have an inkling that your studies are not the only reason you are here. Admit it; you are here to see me."

T'Challa knew what you were up to, you have been caught. You could not back down from his challenge. Actually, his questioning and accusations excites you. Mr. Librarian is nasty, in the best way possible. He is now in front of you, staring into your eyes. He grabs you by your waist and firmly wraps his arm around you. His hand rests on the small of your back, right above your ass. You can smell his cologne - faint but intoxicatingly clean. His skin is perfect, chocolate and flawless. You can smell the scent of honey in his perfectly defined coils. Damn, this man is a dream.

"I come here to study, T'Challa. And, yeah, I come here to see you too." You admit.

"I knew it!" He wags his finger, feeling righteous in his suspicions about you. He did not want to come out and ask you if you only came to the library just to visit him. It would be rude of him. But he decided to take a chance. He checked out your book recommendation, bought your favorite cup of coffee, and with the spirit of Bast decided to take make his feelings known. "Can I ask another question?"

"Go ahead," You say.

"Can I kiss you?" Your heart damn near beat out of your chest. This beautiful, sexy man just asked could he kiss you? You'd never been asked before, by a man, if he could kiss you.

"Yes, please," T'Challa lifts up your chin slowly. His eyes travel down your lips. He examines your lips before pressing his against yours gently. The kiss is passionate, slow and sensual. Your tongue encaptures his, moving back and forth, making its own beautiful rhythm. He parts from you but you need to feel him again.

"One more question?"

"Wha...hm? Yes, T'Challa?"

"May I take you out on a date?" You cannot help but to grin with glee. Who knew practically stalking....conducting thorough research on this man would ultimately pay off?

#black panther fanfiction #t'challa x black!reader #t'challa x black reader #t'challa x you

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firelord-frowny · 3 years

Text

a bunch of rambling about madison and his history and my writing process under the cut, woooo

So, pretty much everything I’ve ever written about Madison for the past 11 years has been very much in a ~diary~ style - more or less stream of consciousness and told in the first person, with varying tenses depending on the nature of the diary entry.

i don’t really do any sort of planning or mapping. madison’s life just kinda unfolds, and i document it for him, and it isn’t always in chronological order, his narrations aren’t always reliable, and i’m pretty much never aware of any foreshadowing or allusions or allegories as i’m writing them, even though they’re definitely present.

the bit i was just writing captured my attention bc of the things that just sort of uncovered themselves after i was writing it.

madison is 26. his mom died from breast cancer when he was nearly 19. they had a hella sad relationship for many reasons, the majority of which had to do with his mom’s failure to protect him from abuses acted out upon him by his much older brother, and their dad (who wasn’t actually madison’s biological dad). the whole truth of the matter was that the dad was a whole grown man, like 27, when he began a predatory relationship with madison’s mom, who was only around 14. his family owned the business that employed madison’s mom’s parents, and so they were kind of manipulated/extorted into allowing this creep to make off with their daughter. he moved her away, knocked her up, married her, and pretty much just kept her as a pet and was decidedly Very Bad to her.

madison didn’t grow up knowing about any of that and pretty much always viewed his mom as a stupid, selfish woman who didn’t care enough about her own children to get them away from an abusive spouse. for most of his life he tried hard to earn his mom’s love, but gave up in his mid-late teens and decided to just hate her, and make sure she knew he hated her.

then she gets ill, and pretty much from the onset, it’s clear she’s not gonna live much longer. she tries to make amends with madison - tries to apologize for things and whatnot. answers some questions that he deserved to have answered. but he wouldn’t forgive her, and stayed angry, and made sure she knew he would always be angry, and those were the circumstances she died in.

then he kinda lost his mind and went awol for a few years before resurfacing.

madison had always been one of those reckless types who doesn’t really actively try to hurt himself, but he’ll let himself get into situations where there’s an above average chance that he’ll be hurt or even end up dead. and so, that’s the lifestyle he dove into when he ran off. but shit got a bit more real than he anticipated and suddenly he realizes - wait, i’m gonna have the rest of forever to be dead, im not so sure i’m okay with not being alive so soon.

but by the time he had that change of heart, he was in way too deep in some really perilous shit and he spends the next two years fighting to keep his head above water long enough to get out of the shit he was in.

So, he finally turns up back home like a coughed up furball on his best friend’s/ex lover’s doorstep, and he confronts all the wreckage he left behind, and then also has to deal with the fact that after everyone he left behind cleaned up all that wreckage, they all thrived in his absence. they’d all been struggling in a similar manner to him before, but once he was gone, they got carreers, they reached goals, they made enjoyable lives for themselves. And he’s stuck grappling with the fact that maybe he was the one holding them all back all those years.

in the midst of all this, he’s sick. like, physically ill with Something. and he’s terrified to see a doctor because, remember, he FINALLY wants to live, genuinely wants to be ALIVE, and now he’s scared he might have a life threatening health issue, and he’s too scared to find out for sure.

and as he begins the process of unpacking all these horrible feelings that made him build such a shitty life for himself, he kinda realizes that it all goes back to his determination to Stay Angry and Stay Hurt. Like. He went out of his way to avoid any form of closure or release because I guess he kinda felt entitled to his anger.

so, slowly, he starts kinda going back through time and walking through the things and people and places that shaped the person he chose to become. he breaks into visits his childhood home. his brother died by suicide when madison was 16, and so he couldn’t confront him about a painful secret they shared, so instead he confides that secret secret in the one friend he knows might understand the impact it had on him.

his mom is dead, too, so he can’t change anything with her, but his mom’s sister still lives in boston, so he goes to visit her.

that visit is the thing i was writing about earlier today.

the aunt was about 8 years old when madison’s mom, at 14, ran off with the man she ran off with. but over the years, the sisters still managed to keep in touch, and madison’s mom told her a lot about what life was like with her husband and two sons.

so, madison hears a lot of stories from the aunt. learns for the first time that his mom was just a kid when she was basically taken captive by an abusive grown man. learns how she met his biological father, learns that she’d intended to leave her husband and move to south africa to be with madison’s real dad, and learns that she abandoned that plan in fear after her husband discovered she was pregnant and assumed the baby was his.

that ~painful secret~ between madison and his brother is the fact that the brother, 17 years madison’s senior, sexually abused him a few times. (on the final time, the dad caught them, and proceeded to abuse him as well on just one occasion, but that detail isn’t super relevant here).

at some point after the abuse, madison overheard his mom on the phone telling someone that she “hopes he doesn’t end up queer, because I think [older son] might have messed with him.”

madison discovers that the person she was talking to was his aunt.

and he’s immediately livid and heartbroken and let down to know that she didn’t try to intervene in any way.

and she’s sorry, she’s remorseful, she’s been ahsamed for years and she wants to do her part to help madison be able to live a happy, healthy life.

so, there’s a moment in madison’s internal dialogue where he’s realizing that he actually believes her when she says she’s sorry.

and then there’s this bit that kinda shook me when i read it back to myself:

If my mom hadn’t died when she died, I don’t think I would have believed Aunt Carol. I think I would have been happy to just give her the finger like I did with mom. But now I have to live with that choice, and I hate it. I’m never going to be someone whose mother didn’t die believing I would never, ever forgive her. And I think, at least, that the one silver lining in it is that the part of me that was capable of holding on to that kind of grief and contempt died with her.

So, I believe Aunt Carol. I believe she’s sorry, and that she would have done better if she’d known better, as the proverb goes.

it’s this moment where he has an opportunity to sort of vicariously fix things with his mom. he gets to experience what it might have been like if both he and his mom had been emotionally healthy enough to make better choices. He can’t actually change what happened, but he has the privilege now of knowing that he has the capacity to be someone who can forgive someone who loved him for doing something horrible to him. he gets to understand, finally, that forgiveness has shit all to do with absolving someone of their sins, and has everything to do with releasing oneself from the burden of contempt.

he figures out: yeah, he’s entitled to his anger, but he also deserves to not be angry. he has the right to stay angry at his mom for failing him so miserably, but he deserves to live without that anger.

and i just!!!!! absollutely did not actually think through any of that. like. that wasn’t my intended point of this whole scene where Madison visits his aunt. All I really meant to do was just document this event in his life, but wooooow.

Look where it took me.

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frostmarris · 7 years

Text

Sutures

pairing: Gaara/Sakura with some Neji/Sakura

summary: ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend.’ But just about everything is a possible enemy in a zombie apocalypse. Sakura crosses paths with a particular thief once more and has an unexpectedly pleasant night, trapped in a condemned building’s basement.

notes: i’m like 3 hours late for @vesperlionheart and @thefreckledone fluff friday, enemy prompt, but eeeeyyyy better late than never. some fluff in a pretty grim setting hello did you know i have a zombie apocalypse au (i have a couple other drabbles set in this universe that i wanna write one day)

Konoha had been more of a tourist destination – a vacation retreat – than an actual town. With the large fortress and temple, the meticulously cared for gardens, hot spring, multitude of places to eat, and the tall, sturdy, stone wall that encircled the village, tucked away in the middle of the forest, it all seemed like something out of a folk tale.

In the end, it was the wall that saved them.

When people first started to get sick, the townsfolk didn’t think much of it and simply cared for their ill as best as they could, slowly becoming more worried as they listened to the news that an epidemic had spread across Japan.

Had spread across the world.

When communications to the outside went down and those who had fallen ill began to... react, there was mass panic throughout the country.

It was that tall wall - strong and stone and unrelenting - that kept the walking corpses out and the people of Konoha safe.

The months passed and the townsfolk began to adjust to their new, dangerous, lives, reinforcing the wall with steel plates and chain-link fences and wooden spikes around the outer perimeter, posting guards up on the wall to watch the outside and keep the things out. They paid closer attention to their rations and supplies, learned how to defend themselves, and made sure none of the dead got in.

They sent out groups for supply runs, scavenging through nearby, abandoned towns – villages that hadn’t been quite so lucky, that had fallen victim to the virus – and bringing back what they found.

Within the wall, they were safe. There had only been a handful of outbreaks, but they were all handled quickly and efficiently, removing the corpses head’s and burning the bodies. They treated those who were injured as they began to learn more about the mysterious virus.

Those who hadn’t fallen sick were still susceptible to the bite of the zombies but, if you were fast enough and the bite was somewhere... removeable, those bitten didn’t always turn.

Sakura remembered when her childhood friend, that blond goof, Naruto, had been rushed into the clinic, his right hand bleeding and already beginning to turn that odd shade of ashen grey, streaked with purple and green and black veins, and the blood running from the bite darkening and oozing as the scent of death filled her senses.

She’d only started her apprenticeship under the clinic’s head doctor earlier that month – had only witnessed one other amputation before that day.

Tsunade, her mentor, had worked quickly, barking out orders to her assistant, Shizune, and Sakura, who worked together to hold Naruto down – no time to administer any sort of anesthetic, no time to do much more than nod grimly at his gasped consent to the procedure, the pain wracking his body and the dark veins creeping further up his arm.

The head doctor amputated just above his elbow, where the infection hadn’t yet managed to reach.

It was a grisly, gut-wrenching experience, for all parties – Naruto more-so, of course – but he was saved. He lived.

And Sakura decided she would do whatever she could to keep her home alive. She studied, she trained, she learned all she could from Tsunade and Shizune, having already been well on her way to pursuing a medical career before the world went to shit.

And the months passed, the town settled and the villagers kept mostly to themselves. They rarely saw other survivors, but, when refugees did happen to pass through the forest and stumble upon the village, they were taken in – cautiously, carefully, the appointed guards keeping an eye on the newcomers – if they asked for shelter. Some stayed, others simply accepted the respite before moving on, too distrusting of the village, of strangers in this apocalyptic world, to stick around.

And life was relatively peaceful.

It was early in the morning when they crossed paths.

Sakura was in the greenhouse, checking on a few of the plants she used for the home remedies, when she heard the door open behind her. She glanced over her shoulder, surprised to see the red-haired young man that they’d taken in a few days ago.

He and his two older siblings had arrived seeking temporary shelter and medical aid for the middle sibling – the elder of the two boys – and had been permitted into the village after some discussion from the town leaders. They’d kept an eye on them, lest the siblings turned out to be dangerous, but the three hadn’t caused any trouble, more concerned with the gunshot wound in the middle brother’s forearm – they’d run into a group of aggressive survivors earlier that week, they explained, and had luckily managed to escape mostly unharmed.

The redhead – Gaara, if she remembered correctly – looked just as shocked to see her and continued to stare, frozen in his spot by the entrance to the greenhouse, before she flashed him a smile, grabbing one of the misters for the plants.

“Mornin’, how’s your brother doing? His wound was healing up nicely when I checked him yesterday.”

“Doctor.” He greeted carefully, almost unsurely, as he took a quick glance around, expression blank with just an edge of uncomfortable.

“He’s... fine.”

She nodded, checking the Aloe Vera buddings before shooting him another glance over her shoulder. He as looking a little nervous, a little unnerved... Shrugging to herself, Sakura moved over to the lone apple tree in the greenhouse – it was supposed to have been moved to the nursery weeks ago, but one of the gardeners decided it might be nice to keep it in the greenhouse – picking an apple that looked ripe before tossing it to Gaara.

He fumbled with it for a moment, sending her a confused look. She smiled again, stuffing her hands into her lab coat after waving him off.

“’Apple a day keeps the doctor away’ and all. You look pretty hungry and communal breakfast isn’t until 8 AM.”

Gaara gave a slow nod, holding the apple hesitantly and looking anxious about something. She noticed, of course, and was about to ask him if he was okay when the intercom system in the greenhouse buzzed to life.

It emitted three short honks – like that of an airhorn – and Sakura spun around, rushing to the southern window of the greenhouse.

Konoha’s emergency warning system was fairly simple. Alarm bell rings for a breech in the outer wall, airhorn honks for other, less dire, emergencies. The number signaled which portion of the village the emergency was – which direction to head. One for North, two for East, three for South, and four for West. The intercom system was wired through the main buildings – the town hall, the clinic, the fortress, the temple, the greenhouse, the cafeteria, etc. – and there were speakers out in the streets, all loud enough for basically the entirety of the village to hear. The alarms only sounded once – a precautionary measure so as to not draw the attention of any wandering corpses nearby – but once was all Sakura needed to rush to action.

Through the window she could see smoke in the distance and, cursing under her breath, she rushed out of the greenhouse, forgetting all about Gaara and leaving him behind, much to his relief.

When the situation was handled and the fire was put out – a freak accident, no one could figure out what had exactly started it but, luckily, it hadn’t been too big of a problem – the villagers of Konoha quickly realized that something else was wrong.

The storerooms had been broken into – several of the shelves of canned food missing large, noticeable chunks of rations, an obvious amount of water bottles gone, extra clothing removed from the winter storage, etc. – and the door to the clinic was busted open. Sakura found a few of her cabinets still open, bottles of pain-killers and pain relievers, general cold and flu medicine, and a couple of the First Aid kits missing.

They’d been robbed.

And the three sibling refugees were nowhere to be found, one of the few automobiles that were supposed to be locked up in the communal garage gone as well.

Sakura was furious.

“Absolutely not.”

A week had passed and, when Sakura heard that a new scouting party would set out that Friday for a supply run and to finish scouring one of the larger towns fairly close by, she’d approached Neji, the lead of this particular expedition, with the intention of being added to the list of scouting volunteers.

“Why the hell not? I thought you guys didn’t turn down volunteers for supply runs unless they were kids or injured or something.”

Neji scoffed, replacing the batteries on one of the walkie-talkies before testing it out.

“Our admission process is a lot more thorough than that. Have you ever even killed a corpse before?”

Shooting him a glare, Sakura crossed her arms over her chest and pursed her lips for a moment before replying.

“You know I have, Neji. I used to go out with you guys on runs all the time.”

“That was before.”

“Before what?”

Neji passed the radio to one of the other volunteers before heading over to a table to grab a clipboard, inspecting the list of Priority Needs and frowning to himself when Sakura stubbornly followed after him.

“Well?” She persisted.

“Before you became a doctor.”

“So? What’s that got to do with anything?”

“You’re much more valuable now.” He sent her a serious look here, expression firm as his eyes met hers. “You’re not expendable.”

Sakura might have been flattered – okay, she had to kind of suppress a smile at his comment, resisting the urge to flutter her lashes at him – if Neji hadn’t just implied that he and the other volunteers were expendable.

Planting her hands on her hips, she narrowed her eyes at him, frown deepening.

“And you guys are?”

He ignored her, brushing past to give a few orders to some of the other villagers hanging around – most of whom were trying to hide their smiles as they watched, amused at the doctor and the team leader’s exchange. Groaning, Sakura moved back into Neji’s line of sight, shooting him a slightly pleading look.

“C’mon, Neji. Please? Just one supply run? I can go as a field medic and stay out of combat, if that’s what you want.”

Eventually, after a few more minutes of her pestering and pleading, Neji finally seemed to break, sighing as his shoulders slumped and he sent her a long-suffering look.

“Why, Sakura?”

She hid her smile – victory! – but did bat her eyelashes at him, this time.

“I’m tired of being cooped up. I just want some fresh air and to make sure I’m not getting rusty with a blade.”

“Scalpels are blades.”

Sakura sent him an unimpressed look, unable to tell if he was being serious or if this was ever-stoic Hyuuga Neji’s attempt at making a joke.

“I need to restock the clinic too.”

“You can make a list; I’ll take care of it personally.”

“Neji.”

“Hn.”

She was just about ready to start arguing with him – demand that he allowed her to go. She wanted a little break from the clinic, that’s all! It’s not like she even had much to do besides reorganize the storeroom and administer band-aids to kids with skinned knees – when their attention was caught by two of the other volunteers in the scouting base.

“Oh, wouldn’t it be great if we had a medic accompany us on this run?” Said Tenten, her voice obviously forced loud enough for them to hear as she stood several feet away with Kiba, very pointedly not looking at Sakura or Neji.

Kiba nodded sagely, rubbing his chin before reaching down to give his hound, Akamaru, a pat. “Definitely. I’d feel so much safer if someone with some medical knowledge were to join us, just in case someone was to, maybe, get injured.”

Tenten nodded in return, feigning a thoughtful look for a moment before throwing her arms up in exasperation. “Oh, darn! But, I don’t think either Dr. Tsunade or Dr. Shizune have ever been on supply runs before! If only there was someone else we could ask to assist us!”

“Someone that knew how to kill zombies!” Kiba added, almost failing to smother his grin. “But just who could that possibly be?”

Neji shot them both a glare, eyes narrowed and arms crossed over his chest. But he was obviously fighting a losing battle and, after a moment, he looked back to Sakura, pinching the bridge of his nose as he sighed.

“Fine. You can come.”

He missed the pair of conspiring winks Tenten and Kiba sent Sakura from behind him, glancing away as the doctor grinned.

“If we get split into teams or the group gets separated,” Neji continued, glowering down at her, “Stick with me. Dr. Tsunade will have my head if you lose yours.”

“I can take care of myself, you know.” But, Sakura couldn’t keep herself from smiling up at him, excitement bubbling up. “But, got it. Thanks, Neji.”

He stormed off after that, aiming to finish setting up the preparations for the trip, but Sakura didn’t miss that slight quirk to his lips as he walked away.

They’d only been searching through the remains of the town for about twenty minutes when the horde passed through.

There had been a brief amount of panic amongst the group – six, including Sakura – but Neji had, of course, taken control, hissing out orders while the large mass of shambling corpses approached. And it all kind of blended together. Stabbing zombies in the head with daggers and larger blades – guns were a rare find in such a rural area but, luckily, Konoha’s stock of swords and knives that had originally been only for show for tourists, weren’t just cheap knock-offs and fake metal – and dodging rotting mouths, making her way back with the group before things went to shit.

She’d seen Tenten slicing a head off one corpse with her katana before she realized that a new horde was rounding one of the street corners, attracted by the sound of combat and snarls.

The group had scattered at Neij’s command to retreat, darting off down the remaining empty streets and away from the converging horde. Sakura had seen Neji to her left, running alongside her down the street as they were separated from the rest of the group and, inwardly, she was relieved.

He sent her a meaningful look before nodding, grabbing her wrist and leading her through the twists of the small city’s downtown – he’d been here before on other runs, he knew the layout of the town better than she did – before they passed by what looked like a run-down school (more-so than the rest of the buildings).

Neji shoved her towards the entrance as they passed a wall of overgrown hedges, tugging her down out of sight and crouching next to her for a moment before hissing out a reply when she sent him a confused look.

“We cleared it out two weeks ago, the front door is the only entrance that isn’t locked.” He nodded up at the short set of steps leading to the double doors of the school. “They’re still closed, so it should still be clear.”

Sakura nodded before sending him a slightly panicked look when he stood, backing away from the school.

“Where are you going?!” She kept her voice down, very much aware of the sound of the horde coming down the street.

“I’ll lead them away and circle back to pick you up after the horde has passed. Just stay inside until I get back.”

“But-”

“Now, Sakura.”

Lips pursed, she gave him a curt nod and rushed up the steps, the hedge-wall luckily keeping her out of the mass of corpses’ lines of sight as she hopped over the strip of police tape and tugged a door open to slip into the building, quickly pulling it closed behind her and catching sight of Neji racing back down the street outside.

Sighing, Sakura turned to face the interior of the old school, her frown deepening.

Those ‘CONDEMNED’ signs did not look very welcoming.

The school must have been abandoned long before the apocalypse came about, Sakura realized as she wandered through the building. Many of the walls looked rotted and there were a few holes in the flooring where the wood-work had given out. Just as Neji had said, there were plenty of decapitated corpses laying around, obviously disposed of by the scouting party that had checked out the school last time.

Still, Sakura decided to explore. Maybe she’d find something useful that the last group had missed.

Plus, it was a good distraction from her worry for the rest of her group.

She occasionally dropped her hand to the walkie-talkie strapped to her belt, resisting the urge to try to call one of the others. There was a chance that they were in a place that required them to be quiet and the sudden crackle of the radio coming to life could very well lead to someone’s death.

So, she’d just wait until someone else tried to contact her or for Neji to return.

The school was a lot bigger than she had initially thought and she spent a good fifteen minutes walking down the main halls, popping into random rooms to give them a cursory glance before continuing. She’d found a stick of chalk in one of the first classrooms and had quickly snatched it up, dragging the chalk along the wall as she walked to both guide her back if she happened to get lost and to give Neji a path to follow.

She’d yet to find the nurse’s office – her main goal – but did happen to come across what she guessed was originally the cafeteria. Picking her way over the discarded zombie bodies, Sakura headed towards the back of the large room, pushing through the doors into the back. The storeroom had been thoroughly raided but, nonetheless, she continued to search, only to jump in surprise when she heard a muffled thud somewhere in the distance.

She froze, ears straining to identify what the sound was and its possible source.

It’d sounded kind of like a door slamming shut, but she wasn’t about to just race back the way she’d come and hope it was Neji.

Instead, she exited the cafeteria, making her way back into the hallway and continuing down the way she was originally headed, listening carefully for any other suspicious sounds.

At some point, she swore she heard the sound of glass shattering.

Almost another ten minutes passed and Sakura had seen no sign of life – or of the undead – but she’s still on edge, glancing over her shoulder every few moments and rounding corners with a held breath. She’d yet to find anything useful and her radio was still silent at her side, the anxiety eating away at her nerves.

The main building of the school apparently connected with both an East and West wing and Sakura had come to the realization that this was probably more of a small University than a regular school, what with the crisscrossing hallways and large lecture halls.

She found the library before the nurse’s office and she popped her head inside for a quick look, itching to explore but well aware that there were too many opportunities for something to sneak up on her between the aisles of books. Sakura took a moment to frown to herself, however, when she realized that a great number of the shelves that she could see were empty, before she remembered that the building had been condemned before it was abandoned.

So, she pressed on, still leaving her chalk trail on the walls until eventually – finally – she found the infirmary. Grinning, Sakura slipped inside, bee-lining for the storage cabinets and hoping to find something useful that the original search party had overlooked.

Expression smug, Sakura left the nurse’s office with a few new rolls of forgotten gauze, a couple unopened packets of cotton balls, unused tongue compressors, some adhesive bandages, and three bottles of in-date rubbing alcohol. Sterile supplies were hard to come by, but she could understand why the original group might have passed over such unassuming items (the bottles of rubbing alcohol had actually been in one of the desk-drawers, so they might have just missed them entirely).

All in all, Sakura was fairly pleased with herself, patting her filled bag.

That is, until she realized she wasn’t alone.

Movement to her right caught her eye as she exited the infirmary and Sakura immediately froze, head snapping over to catch sight of a figure moving down the hall, away from her and towards the area she hadn’t yet explored.

They obviously weren’t a corpse – they walked carefully, gracefully – but she didn’t recognize their clothes, so they weren’t from her group. The hood of their jacket – black and worn with use, duct tape wrapped around the sleeves for added protection – was pulled up, blocking any details of their face, but Sakura kept her eye on the stranger, stepping backwards carefully. They hadn’t seemed to hear her yet and she had to keep her breathing quiet, uncertain whether they were friend or foe.

She’d only made it about seven steps back when she heard a snarl over her shoulder.

Sakura spun around, hand instantly dropping to the knife holstered on her hip, and slipping it out of its strap in one smooth move as she found a zombie shambling towards her, almost close enough to touch. Moving on instinct, she dodged its reach for her and jammed her blade into its forehead.

The corpse went limp almost instantly and she breathed a sigh of relief, retrieving her knife with a sharp tug as the body fell. Her relief was short-lived, however, as she heard movement behind her once more.

The noise of her brief scuffle had definitely caught the attention of the stranger, as they have spun around in surprise and are now facing her, the hood of their jacket fallen back to expose their face.

Sakura eyed the red hair and familiar face with a quickly deepening frown, dropping into a defensive stance as she recognized them – him.

“You!”

“Doctor.” Gaara greeted, looking uncomfortable and vaguely shocked.

Definitely foe.

She nearly growled under her breath, just about ready to start shouting at him for robbing her home after they offered him and his siblings shelter and help – she’d been taking care of his brother! – but, glancing down at the fully-dead zombie next to her, decided that making noise would be a bad idea.

He had a knife in his hand as well, watching her warily as his body tensed defensively. Blade at the ready, raised threateningly, Sakura glanced back over her shoulder once more before beginning to back away.

If one corpse had made it in somehow, there were bound to be others. And, though it had come from somewhere behind her, going forward – towards Gaara – was not an option.

It was time to leave the school.

They’re both silent, watching each other carefully, and, the moment Sakura made it past the edge of the corner of the hall and saw it continue to her left, she ran.

Paying close attention to the empty hallway in front of her, lest another corpse appear, and listening carefully for the sound of footsteps racing after her – she heard none, but her heart was still pounding with worry – Sakura continued back the way she’d originally come, skidding to a halt when she passed the double doors of the library.

Biting her lip, she quickly pushed past the doors, deciding that, if Gaara decided to chase her down, she could probably give him the slip amongst the rows of shelves.

She headed for the back of the library, past a few front-facing rows of bookshelves and into a lounging area and-

-And immediately regretted her decision.

There was a large bay window here at the back, facing out into a communal outside-area, with several lounge chairs and couches set up, a few tables and more simple chairs for studying nearby. The chairs and couches look to be in fairly good condition, though covered in dust.

The window, however, has been shattered, broken glass scattered inwards, away from the outside. Sakura might have taken this for a fortunate, quick exit, had there not been a pair of zombies shambling over windowsill.

The shards still in the frame of the window were slicing at their rotting skin, sending that vile, dead blood dripping out in near-coagulated globs as they groaned and snarled, their movement more invigorated at the sight of her.

Sakura made a quick move backwards, nearly shrieking as she heard another series of grunts behind her, and almost ran into another reanimated corpse. She swung her knife, missed, and quickly dodged out of its reach, running for the rows of bookshelves to hopefully lose the zombies.

She took a zig-zagging path through the rows, listening for the sounds of the corpses and quickly altering her path as new ones appeared as she ran. The library was bigger than she had anticipated but the worry of getting lost was overpowered by her burning goal of losing the undead that were undoubtedly following her.

They’re not fast, but they were relentless.

Sakura stumbled to a halt when she came across a fallen bookshelf, eyeing the broken wood under it – the floor had given out from the weight, it seemed – before simply leaping over it. The bookshelf itself covered the hole in the floor, the few books having long-since fallen into the darkness below, but she didn’t want to take the risk of it all collapsing under her added weight.

Three more sharp turns – only moments had passed since she’d started running, but it felt like forever – and Sakura stopped once more, breath caught in her throat as she found her path blocked by zombies. She cut left, doubling back and only vaguely aware of the sound of the corpses thudding against the shelving as they followed after her, walking into the bookshelves.

She heard the groan of the wood, mingling with the moans of the undead, before she saw the bookshelves begin to domino.

Sakura made another snap-decision to move left once more as another pair of zombies appeared in front of her, reaching out for her, and, a moment too late, she realized she’d made a mistake.

The bookshelf to her left was mid-fall, dropping towards her and she hesitated when she saw another wall of shelving in front of her, perpendicular to the shelves that were caught in a domino effect.

Moments, seconds, she spun around and saw corpses rounding the corner behind her for the briefest moment before a flash of red rushed towards her, someone tackling her to the ground – away from the zombies and out of the path of the falling bookshelf.

They both let out pained grunts as they hit the perpendicular shelving, which swayed dangerously from the impact, before they were aware of the sound of crumbling wood and the ground seemed to give out from under them.

Sakura was distinctly aware of the feeling of weightlessness and someone pulling her close before everything went dark.

She hadn’t passed out or anything, of course, but the fall had certainly left Sakura stunned for a few moments, coughing through the dust and rotten wood when she managed to sit up, collapsed on a pile of broken, old wood. Tugging the collar of her shirt up and over her mouth, Sakura tried to wave away the dust, groaning and coughing to herself as she tried to move.

She quickly realized that it was pitch-black down here – wherever here was – and her hand dropped to her bag, blindly searching around for the flashlight she had packed. After finding it, Sakura clicked it on and panned the light up, squinting up through the clouds of dust to make sense of her situation.

The would-be gaping hole above her – she wasn’t a very good judge of height, but that had to be at least eight feet – was covered by what she guessed was that perpendicular shelving, having apparently fallen towards the rest of the chaos when the floor had opened up, blocking both what could have been an exit but an entrance for corpses as well.

She sighed, unsure whether she should feel relieved or not, and moved to stand.

Only to scramble away, tumbling down the pile of broken wood, as her hand made contact with something soft and squishy.

Sakura fumbled with her flashlight, suddenly aware that her knife was missing, and pointed the beam at her previous spot.

She saw the red-hair first and came to the realization that, yes, someone had indeed tackled her out of the way.

Gaara was lying in a heap on the pile of rotten lumber, eyes closed and a small trail of blood dripping down from somewhere beyond his hairline. Sakura jumped to her feet, quickly regretting her decision as pain shot up her left leg, and backed away.

She watched the redhead’s still form for a few moments, conflicted as to whether she should keep an eye on him and wait for movement or check herself over for injuries. When Gaara made no move besides the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he laid on his back, she let out a shaky sigh, scanning the light over her limbs to check for blood.

Besides a few scrapes and splinters, she looked okay, though her left knee was sore – she must have landed on her leg oddly. Rubbing her forehead, she moved the beam back to the obviously unconscious man. Sakura watched him for a few moments more, biting her lip in worry, before she realized that the fabric of his jacket was darkening slightly near his right shoulder.

She hesitated only the briefest moment before cursing under her breath and rushing towards him, checking him over with a worried expression.

And that was when she found her knife.

It wasn’t embedded in his arm or anything, luckily, but it was under him, near his shoulder and obviously the source of the nasty gash on his upper arm.

The guilt hit her almost instantly.

Sakura quickly returned her knife to its holster on her hip and grabbed her bag before beginning to remove his jacket.

Enemy or not, she was a doctor.

Barely a minute after Sakura had finished wrapping up Gaara’s shoulder – there went all of that nice, new gauze – and moved him off of the rubble pile, the crackle and static of her radio coming to life pierced the silence, making her nearly jump out of her skin.

“-ello, Sakura? Are you there?”

She fumbled with the walkie-talkie for a moment, unclipping it from her belt as she quickly brought it up.

“Neji? Neji, is that you?”

She heard a sigh of relief come from the other end of the radio and she dropped to sit, shoulders slumping.

“Yes, it’s me. Are you alright? Are you still in the school?”

Sakura paused, glancing around the dark room before hesitantly replying.

“...Yes?”

“Sakura? What’s your status?”

She groaned, rubbing the back of her neck and glancing over at the still-unconscious Gaara.

“There was... an incident-“

“Are you alright?” Came Neji’s reply before she could finish, sounding more concerned than she would have expected. “Are you hurt?”

“No, no I’m fine.” Massaging her forehead, she decided to skip the specifics. “Zombies got in, floor collapsed, I’m under the library.”

A pause.

“...Under the library.”

“Yes. The ground collapsed but – luckily? – there’s shelving that’s blocking the way in.”

“And your way out.”

“Yup...”

She heard Neji sigh again, the muffled sound of movement, and a grunt.

“I’m going to need you to hang tight, Sakura, and wait there.”

“What.”

“It’s dark out already. I won’t be able to make it to you safely – I won’t be able to find you – until morning. Try to find an exit if you can, but stay in the school until I come and get you, got it? That initial horde was bigger than we thought; the streets aren’t safe right now.”

Sakura buried her face in her hands as she let out a groan of frustration, trying to ignore the fear starting to set in.

“Are... are the others okay?”

She could almost hear the near-smile in his voice – whether it was at her not arguing with him or some sort of unforeseen fondness, she didn’t know – when he replied.

“I made contact a little while ago. They found shelter and are camping out until morning.”

“You’re not with them?”

“Hn. I’m holed up in...” He trailed off, probably glancing around his surroundings. “I think it was a daycare. I managed to lose that horde but I’ve got the entrance barricaded and my eye on another escape route.”

“Alright...” Leaning back against the wall, Sakura tried to make herself relax, running her fingers through her short hair. “Stay safe.”

“You too. Get some rest, but keep an eye out. If anything happens, let me know.”

“Got it. See you in the morning?”

“The moment it’s light out, I’ll come get you.”

Sakura didn’t bother to hide her smile, sitting back and dropping the radio to her side as the connection cut off. Letting out a steadying breath, she glanced around the room, her flashlight turned off in an attempt to let her eyes adjust to the darkness. When that didn’t seem to do much, she flicked the light back on, setting it next to her and facing upwards to cast the light throughout the room.

She was in some sort of storeroom, it looked like – a basement for the library. There were more empty shelves down here, though a few had collapsed, and she was sure she’d be able to find a way out if she looked, but, for now, she just wanted to rest.

Her gaze dropped to Gaara, who she’d laid a few feet away, his folded up jacket under his head, and nearly shrieked in surprise.

The redhead was very much awake now, his steady, wary gaze on her as he laid there.

“How long were you listening?” She asked, a little unnerved – and flustered, embarrassed. Gosh, did he hear all of that?

He ignored her question, staring back at her long enough for her to sigh and look away, dropping the conversation.

“Doctor.” He greeted after a moment, in the way that Sakura was steadily beginning to grow used to.

“Gaara.”

He seemed a little surprised at that.

“...You remember my name.”

A statement, more than a question.

She shrugged, crossing her legs and trying to make herself comfortable.

After a few moments of awkward silence, he addressed her again, expression twisted slightly.

“Sa... Sakura?”

“Yup.”

“Ah.”

And the conversation died again until Gaara decided to try and sit up, letting out a slight wheeze as he accidentally put pressure on his injured arm. He managed to move into a sitting position and Sakura had to resist the urge to move to his side, fighting her instincts to check him over again. The redhead seemed to realize that his jacket had been removed and he was just wearing his grey T-shirt, eyeing the bandages wrapped around his shoulder.

“You, uhm...” Sakura paused slightly when he glanced up at her, his expression nearly blank now. Rubbing the back of her neck, she tried not to look too guilty. “You fell on my knife. Like, literally.”

Gaara was silent and she sighed before stiffening as she saw him reach for the strap on his belt that would have housed his own knife. When he found it missing, he looked back up at her, eyes narrowed questioningly. Lips pursed, she held his blade up, her knife strapped back in its place on her hip, before setting it down beside her, obviously not intending to give it back.

Letting out a barely noticeable grunt, Gaara moved to lean against the shelving behind him, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair before wincing, fingers brushing over the cut on his scalp. Sakura had cleaned it up, of course, but it’d been too shallow to really need any sort of wrapping and a bandage wouldn’t have really worked.

They sat in silence for a few moments before Sakrua let out an exasperated sigh, pulling her bag over and reaching around inside, not noticing how Gaara stiffened.

“Look, okay, I’m going to-“

“Kill me.”

Sakura’s head snapped up as she balked at him, expression horrified.

“What? No! God, no. I’m- I’m a doctor! I don’t-“

Gaara tilted his head back and closed his eyes, resting his head on the empty shelving as he seemed oddly relaxed, as if he’d accepted the thought that she was going to kill him and had already come to terms with it. And Sakura was at a loss, her hand still wrapped around the water bottle in her bag.

“Why the hell would I murder you, Gaara?”

“Justice is paid with blood, in this world.”

Sakura stared at him, wondering if she’d missed some other headwound of his.

“Why would I be seeking justice?” She spoke slowly, calmly, trying to make sense of what he was saying.

He opened his eyes slightly to look at her, his expression blank.

“We started a fire and robbed your town when you were all distracted.”

He had a point, Sakura realized.

Nonetheless, she reached up to rub her temples, tossing the plastic water bottle towards him.

“I’m trying to put that behind me. I’m not going to kill you – I’m not going to hurt you, Gaara.”

He considered the water for a moment before picking it up, watching her carefully.

“Why?”

Shrugging, Sakura gestured offhandedly, pulling out her other water bottle and quickly twisting off the cap.

“’The enemy of my enemy is my friend’ and all that jazz.”

At his blank look, she shot him a frown, her lips pursed as she squinted at him.

“Why did you save me, then?”

That seemed to draw a reaction from him and Gaara quickly looked away, his lips turned down in a frown as he glanced away from her, absentmindedly opening his water bottle before taking a sip.

Sighing, Sakura drew her legs up to her chest and laid her head back, letting her eyes close as she tried to think through her current situation. It was mere moments later when she heard the crinkle of plastic and something hit her knee. Cracking an eye open, she saw Gaara very pointedly ignoring her and a granola bar resting next to her foot. She smiled to herself and grabbed the bar, noticing the way he seemed to relax slightly at the sound of her opening the treat.

“So, Gaara, tell me about yourself.”

“You and your siblings have been on your own this entire time?”

“Ah.”

She let out a low whistle, undoing her wrapping on his shoulder since, apparently, the knife wound had been deeper than she realized and he’d bled through the gauze.

He gave the barest flinch and she muttered a soft apology, moving a little more carefully.

“We...” He paused, eyes on the ground as he let her do her work. “We joined a group for a while, but they were...”

She caught the way his fists clenched – not a reaction to what she was doing.

Shaking his head, Gaara sat back slightly, eyeing the First Aid kit she’d pulled out of her bag before finally glancing up at her.

“How long have you been a doctor, Doctor?”

Lips pursed, Sakura moved away to wash off her hands with the last of her water before splashing rubbing alcohol onto her hands and pulling on the medical gloves in her kit. Swabbed the suture needle with some of the disinfectant, she returned to Gaara’s side and swabbed his wound as well.

“I’m not officially a doctor – hang tight, this is gonna hurt – but I was studying medicine before the world ended.” She started the first of the stitches, biting her lip sympathetically at Gaara’s hisses, before continuing. “I was going to pursue a medical career anyways, so I went to the clinic and asked our head doctor to train me.”

She fell silent for a moment before realizing she hadn’t really answered his question.

“It’s been almost a year, I think. I started my apprenticeship pretty early on.”

Gaara gave a curt nod and they made idle chit-chat while she stitched him up – the conversation tense only because he was tense from the stitches – until she finally finished, swabbing the sutures and surrounding skin carefully to clean him up.

Hopefully the scent of the rubbing alcohol would overpower the smell of blood for any nearby zombies.

“All done.” Sakura said as she tugged off the gloves and stuffed the used cotton balls and gauze inside, tying them off. “Sorry that I don’t have any candy to offer you.”

Gaara surprised her by replying with the softest chuckle.

But then he seemed to realize what he was doing as well and quickly sobered up, grunting in thanks before allowing her to help him get his shirt back on.

Still, that looked kind of like a smile.

“It’s all about the trajectory.”

“Like this?”

Sakura sized up her target – a crude circle drawn on the wall with her bit of chalk – and aimed carefully before throwing her knife, frowning when it didn’t stick in the wood and simply bounced off into the dust.

“You’ve almost got it.” Gaara replied, holding his own knife in his hand – the uninjured arm, of course – and aiming at the target as well. “You just have to...”

He threw and it stuck about four inches deep into the wood.

She sent him a frown, eyes narrowed as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“You told me you were right-handed. How the hell did you do that with your left?”

His smirk looked almost teasing.

“Uuuh, truth.”

Gaara didn’t look very impressed, but sighed.

“Biggest thing you’ve ever stolen and gotten away with.”

Sakura’s lips pursed at his question, finger at her chin.

“Before or after the apocalypse?”

She couldn’t help but laugh at his deadpan expression, sending him a grin before she shrugged, hands held up helplessly.

“I’ve never stolen anything in my life.”

Gaara looked a little disbelieving but, after sizing her up for a moment, decided that she probably was telling the truth.

“Right, fine, sure.”

“Truth or dare, Gaara?” She was still grinning, picking out the crumbs from inside the granola wrapper.

“Truth.”

Her grin dropped.

Right, okay. He was going to play that game.

“Fineee. What was your first date like? Did it end horribly? Most do, you know – well, except Ino’s. She’s got a track record of amazing first dates.”

Gaara simply shrugged.

“Never been on one.”

Lips pursed, Sakura crossed her arms, eyeing him with a frown. “That doesn’t count, I get another question.”

“What, that’s not fa-“

“First time you were ever asked out. You probably rejected them but, I wanna know what kind of person you usually attract. Or! Your first crush. Your pick; I want all of those juicy details.”

Gaara crossed his arms right back, eyeing her with another unamused look.

“No.”

Sakura wouldn’t admit to whining, but she definitely did, nudging his uninjured arm as she scooted closer. “Awww, c’mon. It’s so boring down here, entertain me with a story. First kiss?”

He looked away and pointedly ignored her and it took Sakura a moment to realize that vaguely uncomfortable expression of his was him being embarrassed – he was even pouting.

She gave his shoulder a sympathetic pat and he shrugged her off, shooting her a glower.

“It’s okay, buddy. It’s not that uncommon for people in their twenties to not have had their first kiss yet!”

His eyes narrowed and she had to stifle her smile, inwardly deciding that teasing him would be a little more fun.

“I mean, it is the apocalypse and all. Unless you wanna lock-lips with a corpse, you don’t tend to come across people you wanna smooch all that often.”

His expressions were cute and she teased him for a few moments longer, obviously not going to admit that she’d only been kissed, like, twice in her life. Eventually, she backed off, giggling to herself before sobering up as he turned to face her, eyes narrowed in a rather intimidating glare.

“Truth or dare, Sakura.”

A challenge.

“Dare.”

Why was he smirking now?

“Kiss me.”

Her smile dropped and she regarded him with a surprised look – why hadn’t she considered this possibility?

“Excuse me?’

Gaara was looking smug now and he shrugged, uncrossing and crossing his arms again.

“You heard me.”

They held each other’s gazes for a few moments longer, Sakura trying to calm her suddenly racing heart and Gaara looking smugger than she could have ever imagined. Finally, he broke the moment, sitting back as he stifled his chuckles into his fist, eyeing her with unveiled amusement.

“What. What.”

“Your expression was great, thanks. That’s what you get for trying to tease me.”

He continued to laugh to himself for another minute or so before Sakura sat up, lips pursed and expression challenging. Gaara’s chuckles died off when he realized that she was kneeling in front of him now, her face determined as she reached up to cup his steadily warming cheeks.

He looked more frightened – panicked, even – than amused now.

Gaara’s hands dropped to his side as Sakura drew closer, taller slightly as she kneeled and he sat, and guided his face up towards her, dipping down to brush her lips over his.

It was a soft kiss, barely a moment of contact before she pulled back and smiled down at him, inwardly smug at his shocked expression.

And then his hands rose to rest on her hips and he sat up, their lips meeting once again as he fought to keep down his grin.

Sakura wasn’t sure exactly how many kisses they shared, but it was a pleasant experience – something light and enjoyable to forget the fact that the world was dying and decaying around them, if for a few sweet minutes.

And, eventually, they decided to rest, hesitant at first to do anything more than lay next to each other. But it was cold down in the library’s basement and, of course, they resorted to sharing body heat as they slept. While the pair did no more than share a few kisses – and maybe a few more before they settled down to sleep-

(Gaara blushed so cutely when she pecked his forehead, she couldn’t get enough of it, and he retaliated with kissing her hands, smirking smugly when she grew flustered.)

-and cuddling up together more easily than they would admit in the morning – the night passed in comfortable, casual intimacy.

When the morning came, however, Sakura was met with a very obvious lack of her new companion, the space next to her empty. In a panicked flurry that she would later be ashamed to remember, she checked her belongings, but found them just as she’d left them, nothing missing or out of place.

Except that piece of chalk.

Standing and stretching, a little forlorn to find Gaara missing, Sakura glanced around and noticed the chalk trail drawn over a nearby wall. She gave a slight smile and followed the path, fingers brushing over the chalk line as it led her to a door, which was closed securely but unlocked.

Following the chalk, she traveled up a short set of stairs, through another closed door, and out into one of the school’s hallways. There were a few corpses lying around, some of which looked pretty freshly killed, and Sakura ran her fingers through her hair, glancing down when her radio crackled to life.

“I’m at the school’s entrance, are you still okay?” Came Neji’s voice, determined with an edge of concern.

Glancing down at herself, Sakura shrugged before smiling and retrieving the radio. There was no sign of Gaara, and she doubted she’d see him on her way out, but, she had a good feeling that she’d see him again, one day.

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

#gaasaku #nejisaku #thirrinwrites #thirrinfic #thirrinspeaks #eeeeyyyyy its 3:30 am im sleep #naruto was supposed to cme back into play but i forgot #maybe in one of the other fics if i make more drabbles in this universe hell show up #it was originally gonna be titled hotblooded and there would be more fighting but i got sleepy

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