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paperstarwriters · 5 months

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Hello hope your day is amazing

I was wondering if you could write a Muriel x florist reader where when Muriel is making his once in awhile trip into vesuvia he goes past the readers shop and she gives him tulips because he looks sad and he takes them but after he's gone they forget him obv but the next time he comes into town it happens again and again until he finally gives the reader myrrh and then they remember all those times and get really embarrassed

My first request!!! Wow!!! Now technically I haven’t had any explicit availability on requests because of classes but, well I may just open them up now! (Of course though not all requests will end up this long 😅)

Also, I just wanna mention, that when I first got this request my day had been a little bit of a mess but this certainly brightened it thanks so much!! 💕💕💕💕

By the way, Anon, I am SO sorry I took so long to write this. It ended up getting really long and then I ended up deleting everything and rewriting everything because I thought it could’ve been better lol—Not an excuse, but I kinda wanna be transparent about these things because it helps me acknowledge that no, I did not magically make a perfect fanfic on my first go, and other authors do not make perfect fanfics in one go.

Also I understand that this has since been requested to someone else now too because I was taking so long, and I really don’t mind, though I feel kinda bad to have been so slow. Unfortunately life just tends to interfere and all that.

Anyways,

A Flower a Day Keeps The Lonely At Bay

Pairing: Muriel x Flowershop!Reader

Warnings: Lack of communication (ie. Muriel being shy), awful & rich customers, who pay the cops to chase you down, Reader also Swears. Summary: A flower a day keeps the lonely at bay, but two to three more, and I’m here at your door, ever waiting, ever waiting, never sure never sure.

Muriel finds himself making visits outside of his hut a little more frequently than usual, accumulating a small bouquet of flowers made larger by a few flowers at a time with every trip he makes to the market.

The only issue is, he hasn’t exactly paid for these.

Masterlists | The Arcana Masterlist

Word Count: 14, 181

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Muriel watched as red washed down from the coliseum stands.

He should be grateful. The sight should uplift him—should release that tension tied deep in his chest. It should fill his chest with something other than dread.

After all, for once, it wasn’t blood.

Red roses drip down from above, their petals peeling away from the bright blooming flowers, cut in the peak of their beauty fluttering in the wind, catching in the sunlight, and falling onto the hot arena sands, still yellow, still free from blood, now stained with a new shade of red. The audience cheers instead of screams, clapping instead of booing. They throw flowers instead of stones.

All for his opponent.

A foreign fighter from a kingdom not too far away, his opponent bathed with open arms in the rain of flowers and roses, smiling and waving at the people above who cheered and wailed their name in rapt awe and delight.

If he were sitting in the stands, watching the battle from afar, he’s certain he would see how clunky and awkward he had been fighting. Lucio had told him that unlike his usual “criminal” opponents he was not to kill the foreign fighter lest he piss off the other kingdom, and wile he wasn’t sure exactly when Lucio had grown so conscious of other people’s feelings, Muriel had been grateful for the chance not to kill his opponent.

It was naïve of him to assume it was something he could simply stop doing.

With every swing of his massive axe, made to cleave heads from their shoulders, Muriel found himself faltering. With every attack, he wondered if this was the swing that would kill his opponent, if this was the swing that would start a war between kingdoms. His opponent, who had no such qualms, was able to slowly whittle away at his defenses until they knocked him to the sand and pressed a dagger to his throat.

When Muriel was shuffled out of the coliseum to be slotted away into the cold cell they called his room, he watched as the other fighter received a glory he never saw for himself. Armfuls of gifts, boxes of food or sweets, letters sealed with hearts and given with bright grins on their faces, and armfuls upon armfuls of flowers. Sitting in his cell, Muriel watched as his opponent passed by with many servants in tow, all needing to be led by Lucio, as they couldn’t see past the heaps of flowers that crowded their arms.

A flower slipped past someone’s grasp, drifting it’s way into his room. It was rose-like in it’s colour. A deep crimson hue, although the shape of it was a far cry from a rose. He could hope that it was something precious and expensive, from some bouquet of foreign flowers, but Muriel couldn’t help but doubt. Perhaps it was something cheaper, something carelessly held and carelessly dropped into the cell of this careless fighter. Its a thing to be admired regardless, something pretty and colourful to enter his drab cell. He plucks it off of the floor, to cradle it’s delicate petals appreciate the soft, sweet smell of it.

Something sweet something soft, and colourful and kind.

It’s not something that would last very long with him.

Lucio returns past him a few moments later, having led the servants to whatever lavish room he had prepared for the foreigner and their followers. The red flower dropped against the hallway floors catches his eye, and with two golden talons he plucks it from the floor, smiling as he appreciates it’s delicate, feeble beauty. He continues down the hall, not even sparing Muriel a glance, as his footsteps crack against the stone floors.

He’ll throw it away the moment he gets outside perhaps, or maybe even sooner than that. Or maybe, just maybe he’ll get some small little cup and let the flower live just a little longer. It’s doubtful though, considering how easy it would be for someone like him to get more flowers. People gift him things all the time, and whatever he doesn’t receive as a gift, it would be simple for him to purchase himself.

Muriel never received gifts in his life as a gladiator.

After all he’s done, he didn’t deserve them.

He did not deserve flowers.

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Muriel pulled his basket closer towards himself, shifting the strap that attached it to his back to rest more comfortably on his shoulder. Although he initially refused the offer, he’s grateful for Asra’s insistence, and even more grateful for the gift. It’s practical. With it, he can carry so much more materials than he ever had before. Flour, rice, fruits, he can place it all in his basket and leave his hands free to purchase smaller things, like bread or berries or herbs, or whatever else he might need. Most importantly, being able to carry so much at once, Muriel can limit his trips into the market as a once in a month or two journey.

Sure, the basket made him look bigger, only drawing more attention to his broad looming frame, and sure, perhaps it was a bit heavy to carry so much groceries all in one go, but if it meant he’d only have to endure the bustle and crowds of the market less, it was certainly a sacrifice he was willing and ready to make. Even the longer journey the basket imposed on him—since it would not fit into the smaller alleyways—was made more tolerable knowing that he would not have to return for a while.

It’s his saving grace amidst the crush of people yelling and hawking their wares, the inconsiderately placed shops of medicine right beside shops of food where delicious scents make the dizzying medicine smell stronger. The push and shove of impatient customers—all of it is made just a little more tolerable knowing it’d be over soon.

Soon. He assures himself. Just a little further, then I’m out of the market. Just past these next few shops, just a little more…

A blur of bright colours catch his eye. Though it was hardly enough to stop him from walking, he slowed at the sight, unable to help but stare at the little shop squished between and behind a few other stalls. For some other shops perhaps the size would be moderate enough, if only a little squishy to sit inside, but for that shop in particular, it seemed downright tiny, dwarfed by the flowers that seemed to burst from any and every opening it could get, starved for space and sunlight, and with the vivid colours and unruly growth—starved for attention.

He didn’t mean to stop in place, but he couldn’t help but stare at all the pretty flowers before him. Butterflies twitched from where they sat atop flowers, and bees bumbled lazily from flower to flower, all delighted at the sheer variety they had before them to enjoy. Like the many insects around him, Muriel found himself drawn into the little alcove the shop provided, drowned in the flowers and their soft and tender scents.

Setting his basket aside, Muriel let himself breathe. The crush and bustle of the crowds were still there, but a panel from another shop blocked him from their view. An alcove large enough for him to hide him—he never thought he’d find a place like that.

“Hello?”

The voice was by no means loud. It was a far, far cry from anything accusatory or cruel, and yet still, Muriel can’t help the urge to leap up in place and run, the thin branch of flowers reaching over his head, serving as the only thing to stop him from doing so. Careless movement could damage the pretty little things, and even if it would sting, damaging the beauty of something seemingly so abandoned, he’d hate to have to deal with the ire of the shopkeep should he damage their precious merchandise.

—Should he damage your precious merchandise.

Wearing mud-smeared clothing and a pair of gloves, it was clear you were the caregiver of these flowers and therefore, the owner of the shop.

Maybe he should have noticed it sooner—seen the vibrant colours and assumed nothing that bright and big could grow naturally, or maybe he should have looked closer to those openings and noted how clean the curtains of the window—the very one you now leaned out from—were.

“I’m sorry.” he mutters, scrambling to get his things while still taking care not to damage the flowers of your shop.

“No, no. It’s okay,” you tell him, smiling a little as you watch him pick up his basket once more. “You don’t have to go, I’m not gonna kick you out.”

“I’m out of money,” he blurts out in reply.

While technically a lie, there is some semblance of truth in it too. He’s already spent his limit of what he set out to buy today, and he really didn’t want to buy any more, just in case he needed the money for something else more important.

“That’s fine you don’t have to buy anything. It’s a nice place to relax here.”

Muriel nodded, but knowing he’s long since outstayed his welcome, he turns instead, fully ready to leave and let you forget. Hopefully he wouldn’t need to come by this side of the market place again any time soon.

“Hey! Wait!”

Oh no.

What did you want now? Did he break something? He might’ve hit or damaged some of those flowers with the basket, maybe it wasn’t a good idea to accept Asra’s gift. It made it so much harder to not bump into things. Automatically, he reaches for his pockets prepared to out himself for his earlier lie rather than have to deal with the accusations and demands for damaging merchandise.

Instead, he finds the flowers still intact, and a new one, bright yellow, and mere inches from his face.

“Here,” you say with a smile as you lean out—nearly tipping yourself out—form your shop’s little window. “Take it. Just a little something to brighten your day.”

It’s a simple little flower, with yellow petals like the sunshine that dappled through your flowers and their leaves.

He hesitates, unsure of whether or not to receive your little gift, what your ulterior motives might be, or what he needed to do for this gift, but you had been insistent, slipping the flower into his half open hand before he has a chance to back out. Satisfied with your gift, you smile with a brightness that matches the flower you’ve given him, warm like spring sunshine.

Despite the abruptness of the gift, he manages a small smile, nodding a little in thanks before he promptly turns to leave and finally be out of the market.

The simple yellow flower, with little else it could go, remained in his hand held to his chest as he weaved in between other market-goers. Listening for the sounds of shouting and screaming that never made it’s way to his ears. It’s not like you would remember. It’s not like you would even know.

Technically speaking, he didn’t have to keep it. Honestly, it’s probably nothing more than a ploy to get him to return and actually buy something from your shop, and it’s not like you’d remember him to ask what he’s done with the flower. Not like he could do anything with it anyways. Unlike Asra’s gift, it’s impractical, and Muriel finds himself wondering what you even expected him to do with it.

His fingers trail along the velveteen petals as he walks, appreciating the faint but pleasant smell that sits at the flower’s center. Whatever beauty he finds in it now is fleeting. It won’t last very long, especially since he has no vase to put it in.

It’s just a flower. He has no obligation to keep it.

It’s not like you would remember anyways.

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Shrugging the basket off his shoulders, Muriel makes quick work of putting away the items he’s bought. The bread flour gets tucked into the bottom shelf of the alcove of food he keeps in the house, and the fruits go in a bowl a little higher than that. Finally the bread is placed and covered in it’s own little box. Inanna runs around him welcoming home as he trundles around setting everything into it’s place, tail wagging like a dog. Even as she jumps up on her hind legs to greet him, she's just as careful as he is not to bump into his table, lest the cup at it’s center fall over and spill the yellow tulip it cradles onto the floor.

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Muriel returned to the market a bitter few days later. The basket had made him eager on his last trip, urging him to get everything done and over with so he wouldn't have to be there long, but he had forgotten that the chicken feed needed some extra restocking with the rain season lurking just around the corner. Muriel wasn't technically responsible for Bok-Bok and her friends. They could easily care for themselves as they, and all other chickens scattered in the forest, have been doing long before he had arrived. As a neighbor who occasionally borrowed eggs, however, Muriel had an obligation to lend a helping hand, and he knew full well how difficult the rainy season made it to find berries and seeds. There were of course plenty of worms, but robins and crows were quick to snatch those things up and some days there was just too much water for even the worms to enjoy. In those moments Bok-Bok and company would really need his help, and he was not about to let them down.

He hauls two bags of chicken feed in his basket, the bite of the straps onto his shoulders almost as bad as the bite of the cost into his limited pouch of coins. Technically he’d only really need one bag, but seeing as chicken feed was edible, Muriel was hoping to use at least some of it for his own meal within the coming days. There’d still be plenty for Bok-Bok and the others, but this would make things easier on him for a while as well.

The feed shifts side to side with every step he takes, the shift in weight feels almost hypnotizing, as he walks. It’s an imperfect distraction from the typical sounds and smells and feeling of the marketplace, but it’s a distraction nonetheless. People continue to press against him, and he feels the grains shift to his left. People continue to chatter and talk, the sound of it layered thickly over the sound of crashes and movement and moving creaky objects, and he feels the grains of the bag shift to his right. That awful smell of medicine entwined with fresh bread and he feels—

“Hey!! You!!”

Muriel freezes in place. When his head snaps to the sound of the scream, the rest of his body is already preparing to run away. And yet, when he sees that familiar face—your familiar face—he finds himself unable to move

For the second time within the few weeks he’s been here, he meets your eyes, and your own grow wide.

As if you recognized him.

Just as quickly it appears, it vanishes and you continue to yell.

“Watch your step!” you yell and point to a little spool of ribbon, sitting just where he would have stepped.

Muriel allows himself to relax, following your gaze downwards, taking a step backwards rather than forwards to find a spool of golden ribbon, lined with green that sat just beneath his feet. He’s about to apologize for almost crushing it when you promptly continue.

“I’m sorry, but yeah could you get that? I don’t want someone to step on it and trip like you almost did”

He nods as he bends over, freezing momentarily to shuck off the basket on his back when he feels the grains of feed slip forward. Taking the little spool in hand, he ducks back into the little alcove where your shop resides and hands it back to you, promptly rewarded with a smile flashed his way.

His face warms at the attention, but he doesn’t find it all too bad.

“Thank you. Oh, and here! As thanks.” You pull from behind you another flower—another tulip. It’s orange this time, tinted yellow around the edges. It’s the colour of a sunset, or his warm fireplace at night—the colour of even warmer smiles.

Although he hesitates, he takes this flower as well, bringing it to his nose to drown out the smell of medicine and food swirling together unpleasantly just a few stalls down.

It works better than the rice of his basket had managed at least.

Muriel manages a nod and soft grunt as thanks, trying to avoid the bright smile on your face as he slings his basket back onto his shoulders and trundles off once more. Another flower held carefully between his fingers.

He knows he doesn’t have to take it or keep it.

He knows he still will anyways.

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Asra visits a day or two later, and grins when Muriel is unable to give them their own cup for tea, especially since it was the one cup they had purchased themself. Still, they grin, and even snicker, as if unaware of the turmoil that brews at his inability to be a good friend and give them what’s theirs. Instead, they only fuel the fire of his anxiety and coyly remark that he should get another cup for whoever had given him his tiny bouquet of flowers.

It’s only then that Muriel realizes he could have, and should have argued back.

He still tries, though he knows it’s too late for that.

“How do you know I didn’t pick them myself?”

“Because you don’t tend to pick flowers for yourself,” Asra replies easily, grinning happy and easy, with that familiar glow of mischief in their eyes. “You should make a vase for them. It’d look nice, I think.”

Muriel can feel his face grow hot as he hesitates to refute Asra’s offer, which only makes their grin grow wider and wider in reply. Eventually he sighs, and though he doesn’t make any direct confirmation or denial, Asra laughs, knowing full well what that sigh entailed.

Despite it all, Muriel found himself smiling too.

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Muriel wanders through the marketplace a mere two days since his last visit. He’s without his basket, as he has been for the last handful of times he’s been there, but the journey is still overbearing. Visiting so often within such a short amount of time was quickly giving him a painful headache, and the temptation to just buy some spiced bread or some other delicious smelling food, to drown out the worst of the busy, busy, world around him, was only trumped by the fact that he did not bring any money with him.

Lately, on his last few trips to the marketplace, he neglected to bring any coins, knowing it’d be better for him to focus on saving up for when he really needed the money. Technically he didn’t need the money that much, being fully capable of living off of the forest, but difficult times such as the upcoming rainy season was made much easier when he could just buy the things he needed. For now, however, he’s simply content to wander through the marketplace and shop for inspiration; his only payment being his time, and the need to be there in the first place.

Carving a vase is easy. It should be easy, compared to the other things he’s carved. it’s a pretty simple wooden thing practically a deeper, wider cup with a little flare at the top like a plate. That was something he could carve, but he recalled seeing other vases around the marketplace, and despite himself, curiosity got the better of him and he stopped by to look at the vases other people had made. He’s been returning pretty often much to his dismay, as he kept on realizing or remembering the design of a vase he had only glimpsed at when he returned to the hut. Not to mention how his initial design might not even work anymore.

With every visit he’s made to the marketplace, he passed by or took shelter by your little flower shop on the way back home, and every time without fail, you called out to him. Even on days where he forgot to try and stop by, where he, fully engrossed in some other thing, or the dizzying feeling of the crowd around him, you still called out to him, with some excuse or other for you to offer him a flower. Some days he got a single tulip. Other times he’s received up to three different blooms. He gets a different flower each time, and each time he has to add the flower to his rapidly filling makeshift vase. It’s no longer a cup, but a rather sorry chunk of wood with a hole down the middle and water at the bottom. So busy with his visits to the market, he hadn’t had the time to really work on it.

If he was being truthful, he had been trying to avoid the task. What could he carve that could adequately hold such pretty flowers that you’ve given him? It’s the first bouquet he’s ever received, he wants to make something fitting for your gifts.

With how consistently you give him flowers, Muriel can’t help but forget that you don’t even remember him. He can’t help but forget you don’t really even know him. Not in the way that he knows you. Even if he knows you in sporadic fragments, he still knows you more than you know him.

Perhaps it’s made him cocky. Overconfident in his understanding of you.

Perhaps that’s why he didn’t expect to see you like this.

You are the sun, radiant and bright for your flowers, providing them warmth, providing them light before you give them away to others to illuminate their day or the day of whoever is lucky enough to receive that gift.

Somehow, he never anticipated the fact that maybe the sun couldn’t always be shining.

“I AM NOT PAYING THIS MUCH FOR THIS STUPID SHIT!!!”

Eyes shift away from Muriel towards the loud argument of some overzealous self-entitled noble who failed to recognize that the world doesn’t revolve around them. Selfishly, Muriel finds relief at the distraction bathing in how for once, in the crowd he was not the spectacle to be stared at instead it was—

Oh.

You stand under the barrage of cruelty raised against you and smile. It falters, it twists, but you do your best to maintain your smile, to appease your audience, someone who clearly did not deserve your grace.

“With the amount of money you had outlined—”

“YOU ARE LITERALLY JUST PICKING FLOWERS—CHILDREN COULD DO THAT!! WHY SHOULD I PAY SO MUCH FOR SOME DAISES YOU PICKED?!”

The stranger’s hand slammed on the small windowsill that you usually leaned on rattling the worn material below it. Bees and butterflies fled from their refuge in your flowers and even some weaker flowers toppled over under the stress. Even if he could not see it for himself, Muriel could tell you were trembling, every flower that so much as brushed against you vibrated in place, your fear bleeding into them, as you tried your best to smile despite it all.

If not for the flowers, he’d believe it too.

“WERE YOU NOT LISTENING WHEN I TOLD YOU THAT THESE WERE FOR AN IMPORTANT EVENT?!? YOU SHOULD BE GRATEFUL THAT I’M EVEN BUYING FROM YOUR PATHETIC LITTLE SHOP!!! IF YOU DON’T GIVE ME SOME BETTER FLOWERS I WILL—”

It’s hard to tell what compels him more, the barely restrained discomfort that you radiate, or the bitter anger that only rises with every wretched word that comes out from the noble’s poor excuse for a mouth. If he were a better person, perhaps he’d go to you first, but just like with any fight, it was foolish of him to assume violence was something he could simply stop doing.

It always came back to him one way or another.

He strode, unthinkingly with every intention to just get rid of the unpleasant nobleman. Whether he was going to punch them, shove them aside and away from you, or simply pick them up and throw them into the nearest canal, Muriel would never know, because thankfully the noble was more cowardly than they had seemed.

All it took was for him to stand behind them, his shadow swallowing them whole as he glared them down before they were scrambling backwards and sputtering threats about money and guards. A hard threat to follow through on considering the stranger won’t even remember him the next day.

He’s tempted to follow the noble as they run. Tempted to chase them down and force them to never do it again. To show them how strong they really were in the face of a cruel world. Greedy wretches like them wouldn’t survive a day in the coliseum.

But would he really be able to stomach dragging them there?

Red flickers in the corner of his eyes, and Muriel instinctively turns, bracing for the sight of blood. Instead he finds flowers, and you flinching with wide terrified eyes, and a smile barely there on your twisted lips.

“Hello,” you say, flatly, only loosely coloured with a false cheer, just barely covering your trembling voice.

“…Hi.” He manages to mutter back. “Are you…okay?”

You relax a little, no longer afraid, but a look of hurt still lingers in your expression, and Muriel doesn’t know if or how he should try to help. Still, you manage to nod, and smile, however sad it may be.

“I’m fine,” you sigh in a way that always preludes a “but”. “It’s just that, he still didn’t pay for the bouquet.”

You gesture to the bundle of flowers a beautiful splash of red all clustered beautifully together. There are a litany of different shades of red and even a few other colours amidst the bunch, each complimenting the other, looking much less like the chaotic spatter that he still had at home. He could see roses amidst the bunch, de-thorned and coloured in hues he’s never seen before. Taller more spindly flowers sit amidst the bunch as well, though he’s unable to tell them by their names unsure if they are true in colour or made to look similar to the rest through whatever magic you were using.

Despite it’s beauty, you glare at it, as if you hoped it could shrivel up and die.

“I used so many flowers for that thing, what am I supposed to do with it now?” another grumble escapes you, sounding almost like a bitter growl. He flinches when you grab a flower and it’s pot, something set out as a display, and snatch it into the confines of your shop. He almost expects to hear the pot shatter, but your hands snap back out to grab another without so much of a whisper of the first pot being set down.

“Don’t you give some of your flowers out for free?” Muriel blurts out, regretting the question as soon as he asked it. Did it sound suspicious? Insulting?

“Those are special situations,” you snap back. “Besides, I do NOT give full bouquets out for free. That shit is expensive you know?! I put a lot of time and effort into them!”

Muriel nods, but he doesn’t think you see, as you carefully yank another bundle of flowers back into your shop, angry footsteps making the remaining blooms tremble from the force of it.

“I put all my hard time and effort growing these flowers! Contrary to popular belief I am NOT just running around in a meadow, picking out little flowers to take back home and sell for cheap! I grow these things myself! I colour them! I mix them together! I’m not some nobleman with access to flower farms and flower farmers!!”

Muriel busies himself by picking up the flowers you have further out for display, and bringing them back towards your shop. He doesn’t know where the door is, burred under flowers and greenery somewhere, but he tucks the display into the nook where he had hid many times before, keeping the flowers from prying eyes and greedy hands.

It’s the only thing keeping him in place really. As you continue to stomp back and forth in your shop, ranting about rich customers trying to cheat their way out of paying for your flowers. Even if he knows it’s not directed his way, Muriel can’t help but feel a growing sense of guilt.

He did that too. He’s doing that right now.

You don’t remember it, and to you it probably seems like you’ve been giving various different strangers tulips, but he has a bouquet of them now—one even bigger than that noble failed to pay for.

He carefully tucks the last of the flower displays away, carefully arranging the flowers so that none stick out and reveal their location to onlookers, and prepares to run away, internally promising to never return and never steal flowers from you again.

What he intends as a final glance your way, hoping to leave while your back is turned, roots him in place instead.

You stand, hands over your eyes, furiously scrubbing as you try to both hide and stop your tears. Torn between running to help you and running away, Muriel stands and stares, as useless to help as the flowers that still surround you.

“I just… fuck,” you hiss, or at least you try to around the hiccups of your sobbing. “It’s just so hard. They demand money from me and then refuse to pay me for my hard fuckng work! What do they even get out of hoarding that much money?”

Why can’t he decide? The choice to help you is as obvious as it was when you were being threatened by the nobleman earlier. And yet, when faced with a problem that he can’t solve with violence he’s stuck.

It really is all he’s good for isn’t it?

You duck behind your window to hide your tears, but he can hear your back hit the wall and the hiss of fabric against stone as you slide down to your knees and succumb to sniffles and sobs.

With little else to say or do, Muriel turns and runs away.

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A moment of terror pulls you from your sorrow as you remember the flower stands you left outside the shop. You’ve already lost a lot of time and effort on the bouquet for the noble who never paid, you can’t afford to loose your display flowers as well.

About to bolt out from the shop to look for them, you glance to the shops beside you wondering if your neighbors decided to be cruel, or if you could see the escaping thief. Instead, you find your flower stands tucked away in a little alcove between your shop and one of the neighboring booths beside it. The flowers are carefully tucked beneath each other, to keep from springing up over the other shop’s crates, and remain hidden from any potential thieves.

It’s not anything grand enough to make you reconsider opening the shop back up for the day, nor does it quell the roll of anxiety in your chest, but it’s enough to make you smile again. Even if only a little.

It takes you a moment to recall that a stranger had been here only moments ago after the departure of the nobleman, but beyond their presence you can’t recall anything about them. You know they helped a little, but the how or why evades you.

Instead you return to work tucking your flowers away inside, before you finally close shop and head back to your garden.

You can’t recall what the stranger’s face looks like, but the fleeting memory of them still lingers in your mind. They remind you, strangely, of tulips.

Perhaps you could give them one next time you saw them. Hopefully you’d recognize them in the crowd.

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Muriel’s fingers sift through the flowers that sit in his little wooden makeshift vase. In a better world he’d be able to give back all the flowers he had taken from you—stolen from you—and you would be able to sell your flowers to people who could pay for and better deserved the beautiful blooms. Instead, Muriel finds many of the flowers already starting to wilt in the vase, petals growing crumpled and stems growing weak. The first flower you had given him was a husk of it’s former beauty.

He shouldn’t have gotten it in the first place. That fleeting beauty would have been better spent on someone better than him. Someone who could appreciate it better with a crystal vase—or even a simple painted clay vase to carry the flowers and show off how pretty they were.

Or just…someone with more money than him. Someone who could actually pay you for your flowers.

Someone…. Someone who would deserve them.

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Once more, Muriel makes his journey into the market, the dizzying smells and feelings and noises made all the more worse by the burden of his objective. Two pouches sat in his pockets both burning through fabric and skin to scorch him to his bones. Every passing jostle against his body had him scrambling to check if both bags were still there, panic flooding him when he forgot that he had moved one of the bags from one pocket to another.

Over and over again scenarios flashed through his mind. He tried to keep himself reasonable, tried to expect the worst so he wouldn’t be disappointed, but hope—ever stubborn, and ever cruel—slipped in regardless of his wishes. He hoped that you’d still like him afterwards, that you wouldn’t ask him to pay for all the flowers he had taken from you, that you’d be happy to be able to remember him, but the truth of the matter was, that he was just another customer. All he had been receiving was a placating smile in hopes that he’d buy from you.

If only he could hate you for that. It’d be so much easier if he could let himself feel like he had been cheated, or wronged, but you were just trying to make money for yourself, just like everyone else. Could he condemn you for that?

The sickening smell of some strong smelling meal with pungent medicine fills his chest once more, and the once familiar need to vomit at the smell grows stronger knowing your shop is only a little further away. His hands gravitate towards the two pouches in his pockets and he squeezes them, hoping that for once the universe would be kind to him and he wouldn’t make some awful mistake like mix them up and give you the wrong bag too soon.

With every step closer he gets to your shop, Muriel recites in his mind what he wants to tell you, his apology for what he’s done and his willingness to not bother you again.

Someone else is already shopping at your booth. Muriel watches from nearby, trying to remember what he needs to tell you while he waits his turn.

“If you don’t mind, I need a few flowers, not too many…”

He just needed to tell you that he was willing to leave you be.

“How many flowers will that be? Oh, and what kind?”

No, no, he needed to apologize first for taking all of your flowers.

“Any kind will do. I just need them for a… friend of mine. They’re ill, and I... I made a promise to them.”

He’d need to explain what had happened as well. Explain how he kept receiving flowers from you, and explain how he’d need to pay for it.

“Oh, I hope they’ll be okay soon, how about this?”

“Oh that looks gorgeous!”

He’d need to tell you about that magic, that kept others from remembering him, and he’d need to….

“…oh, I can’t… I’m sorry, I can’t pay that much.”

“…how much can you pay?”

Muriel watches the old man place a few coins onto the table. It really isn’t much, but telling by the clothes he wears and the stains that litter them, it’s clear that he’s been trying to save up for this. Your own eyes, grow dim at the sight of the meager amount he brings. Would it even pay for a few flowers? Would it even pay for a single flower?

Your eyes flutter closed and your hands grip the flowers as if you were going to yell at the old man, but you’re trembling as well, fighting against something before you look back up and smile.

No. No, no. You can’t be thinking—gossip travels fast in the marketplace, even faster when it’s something of concern or interest to a noble. If that person gets word that you’re giving out free flowers after that stunt you pulled yesterday…

“Alright. Take it.”

…What will happen to you?

“No—wait.” Muriel steps in, his own coin pouch in his trembling hands. “that…how much does that cost?”

It’s a smaller bouquet than what you’ve given him over his many many visits, but he still winces as you take the money. He’s now the one without enough funds to pay you back for your flowers. He’s now the one marring your reputation—making it seem like your prices are something fickle, that someone could just get a bouquet of tulips for free if they looked sad or sorry enough.

Was that why he had gotten all those flowers? You did say some were to brighten his day. Did he truly look so miserable?

The old man smiles up at him, and thanks him profusely as he leaves with his flowers. Muriel manages a smile, but a nagging feeling at the back of his head tells him it looks more like a grimace. When he turns back to look at you, you meet his half-smile half grimace with one of your own.

“Thank you so, so much for that—but you didn’t have to.”

“But yesterday—I saw—heard—” Muriel coughs, fighting the rising warmth in his face. “I heard about that… customer…yesterday. I just.... Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You smile, eyes falling closed as you recall something before you look up to him. “Yesterday, a kind stranger stepped in to protect me. It was…really sweet.”

Muriel forces himself to turn away from your fond expression. For all the preparation that he put in anticipating what he should do when you hate him, he never prepared for what he should do if you liked him.

While your attention is diverted, Muriel begins his attempt to scurry away from the situation before it grows too awkward, but not for the first time, you call out to him, stopping him dead in his tracks.

“Before you go!” Once more he stops and turns. He knows his face is flushed, he know he looks ridiculous, but he turns out of habit to the sound of your voice, like a sunflower to the sun. “—here. Just as thanks.”

Muriel stares at the flower you give him his mind flying back to a small cell beneath a roaring crowd. A rose coloured tulip, the likes of which he’s never seen before, sits in his palm as another gift from you. He’s never seen a tulip this red before. Brighter than the colour of blood.

He tries to hand it back, but your hands sit atop of his and push back, insistent on giving your gift.

You smile when you tell him, “Please, it’s a gift.” But he feels nothing but dread.

Another flower stolen, another bloom he can no longer afford to pay for.

He does not deserve flowers.

He certainly did not deserve yours.

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Muriel doesn’t return to the market. He doesn’t—won’t—need to for a while. The basket Asra had given him really lived up to it’s practical uses. He savors the fresh cool air of the forest, untainted by headache-inducing smoke billowing from medicine shops or blacksmiths or bakeries of sleepy bakers. The hiss and hush of the trees, sounds soothing to his ears rather than the cacophony of chatter, of yelling and demanding from sellers and buyers.

He feels alive and safe in the forest.

At least, more than he had felt when he was in the city—when he was just a child.

A lifetime of struggling for money and food and running from guards called by over zealous nobles was not something that he expected would every leave him. In the same way the blood may never wash from his hands, the dirt and disgust he carried for being one of many strays in the South End would never leave him either. It’s something he could live with though. Something he could endure within the safety of the forest.

…He just never thought he’d be the one causing someone to struggle the way he did.

It’s not the same. He knows that it’s not the same. You have a shop that you are able to maintain—a viable way to make money. With all your flowers, you probably had a garden, you probably had the ability to grow fruits and vegetables that you could eat and rely on when times got tough. And most of all, you are an adult. You can fend for yourself, act for yourself. You don’t need help the way a child does. You can survive.

…but sometimes just surviving just made things worse.

He just made things worse.

What if you were struggling for food? What if you wouldn’t be able to maintain that shop for much longer? What if all those flowers you gave him were what lead that noble to think it was okay to get flowers from you for cheap?

Even if he couldn’t be remembered perhaps people remembered seeing you give flowers away for free to someone over and over again. A free flower every now and then would hardly be anything bad but Muriel had enough to consider it a bouquet.

He had to pay you back.

It might take some time, but hopefully his carvings were appraised better than they were when he was a child. Hopefully more people liked them. Hopefully he could make enough money to pay you back soon.

Wooden animals sit between Muriel’s legs as he carved away at another figurine from a block of wood. It was a little sloppy, as was the other figures, but seeing as he needed to make back the funds at least somewhat quickly, he needed a lot of figures in a short amount of time.

The knife slipped against the wood, and cut into his hand. Deep enough to draw blood, but not deep enough to garner worrry. Not for his hand at least. Blood stained the wood he carved, tainting the wooden flower with a bloody patch of red, soaking into the wood.

Muriel sighed, as the blood seeped deeper and deeper into the pale wood. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to carve the stain away to salvage the flower, he set it aside, and wiped the blood from his hand, and started again against a new block of wood.

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For all Muriel had planned and worried the location and use of a stall was not one of the things he had considered. The market was filled with vendors all squished against each other in an attempt to sell wares. Any of his old places for selling things as a child were either filled by new children, hawking trinkets and other odds and ends, or far too small for him to fit in and comfortably sell from now.

He tried to wander through the busier parts of the market, even amidst the crash and chatter of people around him, but earlier vendors had beat him to the stalls, and no one was willing to spare any space.

Eventually, though he tried to avoid it, he came down to your side of the market, where there were just a little less shops than before. Even here however there was no space that he could take that wasn’t a crushing squish against two other shops.

The familiarly grating smell of medicine and baked goods wafted past him and instinctually he glanced your way, even if he hoped not to see you and gain another flower he needed to pay back.

Only, you weren’t there at all.

Where there was once a little window surrounded on all sides by flowers that seemed to burst out from the room within, there was instead, a green door. Upon closer inspection a thin line divided the door in half so the top could be opened or the bottom could be opened, and he realized that this had been the window you once leaned out from to sell your flowers.

And now, flowerless it had been closed.

What happened to you? Did the noble come around and confiscate all your flowers for some crime you didn’t commit? Had he been too late to help you? Too late to fix his mistakes?

He didn’t know how long he had spent staring at the blank walls, taking in all the imperfections he had never seen and never wanted to see before, but it was long enough, that someone inevitably noticed him.

“Hello?”

Muriel nearly leapt up from his place and ran, if not for the person he turned to see.

Still smudged with dirt, with flower petals and leaves caught in your clothes, you stood before him, smiling but confused.

“I’m sorry, did you want something from the shop?”

The bag of coins burns in his pockets, both too heavy and too light for him to hold. He scrambles for an explanation, something feasible to explain away the situation, and allow him to go on his way once more, but his mouth dries with every attempt, and the urge to confess his crimes and get it over with builds high in his chest.

In the end, he abandons his words and shakes his head instead.

With an even more confused look on your face, you shake your head almost dismissively, but a smile still lingers on your lips. It reaches your eyes too, drawing lines across your face from the force of it all. He tries to convince himself that it’s genuine, but the doubt is hard to remove once planted.

After all, you always smile to your customers, even if they don’t deserve it.

“What are you doing here then?”

“I… Just…I’m passing by,” he manages, watching as your smile shifts for a moment. It softens, but it never leaves your face.

“Oh. Where are you off to?”

He glanced away, tempted to just give some non commital answer and just leave before you could ask something else, but he catches sight of your empty shop once more and finds his feet rooted in place.

“I…. I was looking for a space to set up a temporary shop.”

“Oh! What are you selling?”

Since it’d be easier than trying to explain, Muriel reaches into his basket, pushing aside the blanket covers to protect against the sun and the wooden support beams he was planning to use to hold the blanket up, to reveal the wooden carvings that sat beneath it all. He grabs the first one he feels pulling it free and offering it for your inspection.

“Oh! That’s so pretty!” He looks at it in your hands now, one of the flowers he had carved from wood. It’s no tulip, but he’s glad you seem to like it at the very least.

“You can keep it if you want.”

“Really?” you ask, your voice wrung with awe sounding almost almost breathless to his ears.

Despite knowing he wouldn’t be able to tell if you were actually pleased or just smiling, Muriel glances your way, finding that soft smile once more on your lips, as your fingers carefully trace around the center of the flower. He turns away from the sight of it.

“Sure.”

“Oh, hey, in exchange, how about…” Muriel braces himself for the flower you’d always give him. No matter how pretty or soft it’s petals looked he would not accept. He couldn’t, knowing that he’d have to add another flower considering how much he’d need to pay for it.

Instead, you gesture to the shop, and smile.

“Here! You said you wanted to look for a stall to sell your things at, you can use my shop.”

And though Muriel knows full well what your shop looks like, for the first time today he turns and actually looks.

Between two stalls sits the little window, where you once leaned out and smiled at him as he passed. Except, with it’s top “shutter” closed, he could now see it was a door, sitting listlessly against the off-white walls. Around it, where flowers once bloomed, cracks in the stone are so abundantly clear. Exposed for all to see without flowers covering the cracks. Sitting lifeless, colourless, and empty, he little shop seemed even smaller, crowded out by other people’s boxes. A hollow husk of what it had been before.

Or, perhaps it was hollow because you weren’t there anymore.

For all the questions he wanted to ask, all the distress and apologies he wanted to offer, all Muriel can stomach to ask, is a pathetic, strangled, “why?”

Why weren’t you using your shop anymore? Why did you remove all your flowers as if you were just moving out? Why were you letting him use that shop?

Why, even when you couldn’t remember him, did you still trust him?

Why were you kind to him?

Why—

Muriel turns to the sound before you do, the heavy footsteps of armored soldiers marching with that distinct rattle of their shiny armor that only ever meant they were here on purpose, rather than just on patrol.

You catch sight of them a moment later, the same time that they catch sight of you.

And all Muriel can do is stare.

It’s funny really, how, in the past it had almost been second nature for him to run and hide at the sound of clanking armor, grabbing any other children he’d see who had yet to notice lest they get taken by the soldiers seeking to “clean up” the marketplace. But maybe it was all that time he had to spend trying not to flinch and run from the soldiers in the coliseum lest the taunt and tease him while he was helpless to do anything else, or maybe it was the safety net that his gift provided, knowing they could never come for him.

It doesn’t matter anyways. He’s rooted to the ground, helpless to do anything to help you.

A familiar face grins behind their armored friends, looking as pleased as they looked punchable, as if tattling to the soldiers about whatever offense you didn’t commit was something they could be proud of doing. As if they weren’t just some massive coward hiding behind armor and gold.

As if they were really in the right.

He’d scowl if he could manage, but he feels far away from his body, bracing for cold impact of armored hands against mere flesh. Ready to drag him away somewhere cold and dark and alone. Ready to drag him back to the arena.

Instead, the hand that finds him is warm.

Warm fingers thread themselves between his, and suddenly he’s being pulled through the marketplace, just barely able to grab his bag before he’s running between stalls and down alleyways, as the soldiers clamor and shout clumsily crashing through booths and debris in their pursuit.

The both of you are fast, but the soldiers, trained as they are, are faster, and grow closer and closer as you stumble on each other’s feet trying to stick together. You seem to have a destination in mind, but running home with these soldiers on your tail is never, ever a good idea. You seem to know this, but you don’t seem to know how to loose them.

Muriel on the other hand does.

All it takes is a few strides and a squeeze of your hand before Muriel is leading you through the streets, diving down alleyways, and between shops and their carts, before he shoves you into a small dip between two buildings, crowded with boxes and goods from the stalls that sat on either side, and his basket set in front of him for good measure. The two shopkeepers glared his way, frustrated at his strange intrusion, but they fail to notice that he had someone with him, as they often do if that other person is hidden quickly enough. Though their eyes on him makes his skin prickle, they slide off as easily as water on oil, and soon they return to their own business, forgetting that Muriel had ever even existed as their attention drifts away, and they return to attending to their wares.

The crash of soldiers is audible in the distance, and behind him, hands pressed to his back, Muriel can feel you grow tense. Your hands ball up into fists on his cloak, and you press your face into his back as if it may be able to better help you hide from them. It lets him feel you breathe, trying to keep it slow, and deep, trying to relax yourself, but the tremors remain. It makes him want to hold you, take your hand in his to reassure you, tell you that everything will be okay, but when he still trembles at the growing sound of iron on stone and wood, all he can do is stand still and quiet, hoping to all hope that the shopkeepers beside him would not note his presence and, that what little magic he has won’t fail him,

Above all, if everything else fails, he hopes you remain safe.

Their armor glistens in the sunlight, blindingly bright, a distraction and protection he’s fallen victim to many times before. One turns his way, meeting his eyes, and for a moment, Muriel loses his breath. Behind him you tense as well, as if his tension passed onto you. As if you could somehow see through him, and met the guard’s eyes.

He wonders if you had poked your head out from behind him, wonders if the guard had somehow seen you—a scrap of your clothes perhaps, or some sliver of your skin. He hopes to all hope that you had not done so, but he tries to puff up his chest despite it all, use the width of his shoulders to truly make sure you were covered.

And no matter how much he wants to do otherwise, Muriel keeps his eyes open, and stares down not only the guard before him, but also the group behind him, watching and waiting for that moment of recognition, the moment when the guards eyes stopped slipping away, the moment when he’d have to shove the soldier away to let you escape.

To make sure no one was dragged to the coliseum again.

Someone yells behind the guard, loud and abrasive, and Muriel has to keep himself from flinching at the sound. For another moment the guard lingers, eyes still scanning the area, where Muriel stood, as if he wasn’t there at all, for a mere second perhaps, before they turn away eyes still slipping off of Muriel like water against oil. The soldiers continue on hollering and barking as they chase shadows down the street. It’s only when they fade out from earshot that Muriel finally relaxes, and behind him, he can feel you do the same.

It’s an awkward little shuffle around when he steps away to let you escape your confines. Your hand doesn’t quite leave his back so readily, trailing down before falling away, leaving phantom trails of pressure and warmth still lingering on his skin, even if you never actually touched him directly. He tries to distract himself amidst it, focus on getting his basket back on his back. Focus on the possibility of another patrol of soldiers passing by. He doesn’t notice that you had been waving for his attention until you fingers slip beneath the belts across his chest and you yank.

“Thank you,” you whisper-hiss, freeing his belt to capture his hand instead. “C’mon, follow me. I know a safe place we could lay low for awhile.

Your hand is warm in his. Sweaty from running, but warm, with callouses marking the inside of your knuckles. Your rough hands against his own, and yet cradling his carefully with your touch. In his earlier haste he didn’t get the chance to notice that.

You tug, he follows.

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For all that he’s known you, for all the times he’s visited, all he’s ever seen from you were smiles that bent your eyes with it’s fondness, soft as the flowers that surrounded you and vibrant as the sun that fed them.

But that hardly counted as knowing a person.

For all you had forgotten of him, he never really got to know you.

The city grows more glittery and sharp as you tug him towards the decrepit opulence of the flooded district, right along the edge of the temple district where old temples sat in ruin, flooded with water that bent their floorboards and made space frigid during the night. Yet those flaws hardly stopped children from scurrying into the upper levels through windows, standing in the frigid dust laden rooms, and pretending they had a better life.

He remembers doing the same himself, with vivid fondness, trying and failing to climb up the side of the building after soldiers broke all the available climbing structures, that could support his weight. Asra managed on the tiny ledges, and weak remains, but Muriel and many other children struggled to do the same.

Thick walls of ivy, and even a small tree grows there now, the ground having been cleared of tiles to make space for dirt and mud to allow for the growth.

He turns his attention back to you, as you continue to pull him past buildings, littered with new blooms that climbed the walls.

For all that you had forgotten of him, Muriel barely knew you.

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You stop before a fence that looms even above him, coated in greenery, with sharp, rusted metal spikes that jut out from the top of the bushes.

He can see thorns entwined with the green shrubbery, thin and clustered together to make it hard to avoid getting scratched or hurt by any attempt to climb up it, which perhaps, is why it was an area that seemed so abandoned. Unlike the well-maintained gardens of many nobles, what could a trespasser hope to find behind a fence so clearly bursting with nothing but plain shrubs and wayward thorns?

You, clearly, believed otherwise.

Muriel can’t help but wince when you jam your hand into the mess of thorns and bushes, rummaging around the plants in search for something within. He’s tempted to pull your arm out and try to get you to wear something to protect yourself, but you beat him to it, pulling back for a moment to reveal an untouched arm before you reach back in with more intent and care than you did before.

Something creaks, and the wall of ivy and bushes, reveals itself to be thinner than the foliage initially let on.

He doesn’t even need to slip through the greenery as you do to already glimpse the world within, but he does anyways, treating himself to the true magnificence of your domain. Hidden by plants and trees and bushes and thorns sits a world of flowers blooming en masse until they cover nearly every inch of the ground around it, some even spilling out from their designated places to uproot the stone tiles that made up the slim walkways between the spill of flowers.

Most strikingly, Muriel can see the tulips that line the far end of the garden, a splash of sporadic colours all clumped together in a mad swirl, spilling out from their allotted section to infiltrate pathways and the beds of their neighbors.

And amidst them, finally looking at ease, you stand, turning back to him with a smile.

“I’m sorry about that, but… we’ll be safer here for now.”

You close the door, with a gentle thud, and brush the roses around it back into place, slipping a rust-browned lock back into place, and locking the world outside far, far away.

Perhaps he should be worried that you had essentially locked the both of you inside here together, but despite being overcrowded with flowers, the garden seems so expansive he can hardly see it as being locked inside anything.

“Feel free to look around” you tell him. “Just… don’t pick anything, please.”

You flash him a smile, and as quickly as you had astounded him with the beauty of your garden, you turn away snapping your attention back to your flowers, and give him space to marvel in awe at your beautiful garden—to marvel in awe at your beautiful practice. Setting his basket aside, he watches as you crouch down, and procure a pair of shears from beneath a bush, and begin to snip away at the overgrown and wilted plants. The sun shines a halo around you as you hunch over plots of dirt, shuffling your way into the plants, and trying to pry flowers away from each other, to generate distance so one doesn’t starve the other.

It’s hard work, quick to smear you with dirt and mud, but he can see the tension fade from your back as you toil away, a means of relaxing yourself from the tension.

Though questions swirl around his stomach and chest, Muriel decides to give you your space. It’s the least he can do after all.

He wanders, carefully, between the patches of flowers, many intermingled with each other into beautiful messy arrays, some even curling around each other, to enough of an extent, that Muriel supposed you couldn’t separate them anymore. Of course, slow growing as flowers often were, Muriel wondered if you failed to notice how close they had gotten, or you simply allowed them to grow so close to each other.

He approaches your tulip patch. You have so many. Found in nearly every colour, with different patterns on the petals, and different shapes of petals themselves, all crowded into one large plot—and when that plot could not fit any more flowers, you intermingled the tulips amidst other plants, amidst other flowers that seemed to get along well with the shoots of colour.

Although he has never seen the foreign shaped and patterned flowers before, Muriel can’t help but note the abundance of red, orange, pink, and yellow tulips in your garden. A favourite, perhaps? Or perhaps they were in high demand, or perhaps they were just—

“They used to be my parents' favourite.” He turns to look at you, dirt smeared with leaves sticking to the fabric of your clothes. You turn to him and smile. “They liked to give them to each other, as a way to show how much they cared about each other.”

Something in Muriel’s chest flutters. Something else constricts. He really shouldn’t be hearing this—you don’t remember him, you don’t remember what you’ve done.

“I tend to give them out to my favourite customers as well.” Muriel scrambles for his bag. He shouldn’t be hearing this should he? No matter how much he wants to… he shouldn’t. It’s not fair to you. You don’t remember him, you might not even be harboring those kinds of feelings.

After all didn’t you say the flowers were supposed to just... cheer him up?

“Hey, do you want—” Muriel just barely manages to shove the bag into your hands, pressing further to get the bag closer to your face.

The sooner you remember the sooner you can kick him from your garden and be on your merry way, even though his stomach grows tight at the very idea of it. Your garden is beautiful. If he could stay here, or even just visit every so often he would be glad.

As it is, just seeing you smile was enough for him.

Just seeing you smile had been enough for him, but he’s taken too much from you, and he refused to take any more.

It takes you a moment, flustered as you try to protest the strange gift he’s given you, but the memories come soon enough, and rather than push, he finds you grabbing—not only the bag, but his hand as well—and pulling it closer to your face, to take a deep breath, and savor the memories.

It only lasts so long.

You stare at him now, eyes wide and mortified before your hands snap to your face trying and failing to hide you as you still cling to the bag of myrrh he had given you. Muriel closes his eyes and looks away, not wanting to see your enraged or sorrow filled face when you claimed you had been cheated or swindled of your precious, precious flowers.

Instead he hears you giggle.

It’s a nervous sort of giggle, the kind made when someone’s not actually happy, echoing in the hollow cup of your hand as you sink to the floor.

“Oh my gods. Oh gods.” The words slip between your fingers as you adjust and readjust your hands to hide your face. “Oh my gods I am so sorry.”

“What?”

“I gave you, so many flowers…”

The comment sounds like regret—that you regretted wasting so many flowers on him, but your voice doesn’t sound sad, you just sound… embarrassed.

“I am so sorry…”

“W-what?? What for?”

“Isn’t it embarrassing? I keep giving you flowers!” Your volume picks up, and though he doesn’t intend it, his own voice gets a little higher and a little louder in reply.

“Is that bad??” He really can’t focus on his volume when he’s trying to sort out all the questions you are not answering.

“ITS EMBARRASSING!”

“HOW?!”

You groan, half stifled and half agonized before you bury your face back into your knees, leaving Muriel’s mouth to snap shut with a soft clack, gritting his teeth as he silently vows to never open his mouth again—or at least refrain from doing so for a long while. He was too loud. Too close to yelling. He doesn’t blame you for being afraid.

He’s about to apologize, whisper something placating to fix his wrongdoings, but once again, you speak before he can even get a word in.

Or well, you don’t speak. You laugh.

It’s almost a mad cackle. Almost. If you didn’t peer up for a moment, looking so genuinely happy and pleased, he would have thought you had gone insane.

You’re breathless when your laughter bubbles down into hicuups and giggles, leaning your head on your arms as you peer up at him. Of course, he’s too tall for you to look without craning your neck, and that’s so much worse when you’re sitting down. He sits beside you in an attempt to keep your neck from aching, but that only seems to make you giggle more.

“So, how much to I have to explain?” You ask your question teasingly, but Muriel can’t help but notice the strain of sincerity or the way you shake ever so slightly as if scared. You’re still grinning, but he can’t help but take you seriously.

“It…. You spend so much time on your flowers…. Don’t you need the money?”

His question sobers you considerably, that smile falling away from your face. Again, he’s the one who has to tear that from you, who makes you frown instead of smile.

“I can afford to lose a few tulips.”

“It’s not a few.”

You huff, turning away from him, and again, he worries that he’s made you upset. “It’s fine. I have a lot of those ones anyways. Besides, it’s not like I give them out to everyone.”

“You don’t?”

“Nope.”

“What about that old man? You wanted to give those flowers to him for free…”

You roll your eyes, and shake your head a picture of exhaustion, if not for your smile. “Yeah, well, he’s a pretty common customer, and he’s a fellow merchant. I stop by his stall sometimes and I know he doesn’t always have much, but he still wants to give flowers to his friend and all that.” You turn away from him then, tucking your face back into your knees. “Besides, I wasn’t giving him tulips.”

His brows dip again, “Tulips…?”

You sigh, loud and drawn out, tucking your face deeper into your lap. “I… remember how I mentioned my parents?”

“I… I didn’t think I was supposed to hear it…”

“If not you then who?” you gawk, waving an arm to the garden that wraps itself around you. In the beat of silence that follows, the wind rustles through the flowers, and the sound of trickling water meets the melody of a birdsong. It’s so peaceful. It’s so… lonely. Another gust of wind, and though the walls sit thoroughly coated by shrubbery and plants outside, it’s far clearer to see the iron bars from within, a mere gust of wind doing enough to show the cage these flowers have been locked inside of. To show the cage that you...

“You’re the only other person here.”

“I didn’t… I thought you’d change your mind in letting me in here if you realized….”

Once more you tuck your face into your lap, and Muriel has to wonder what makes you so miserable every time he mentions it. “Why would I change my mind after remembering how many flowers I’ve given you?”

“I thought… I thought you’d think I’d stolen them.”

You scoff and roll your eyes. “I gave them to you. As a gift.”

“Would you give me them if you knew it was me returning?”

You straighten yourself, turning to him with wide eyes as if he’s said something absurd or unthinkable. He’s about to retract his statement, make an apology for whatever he’s done to offend, but you look away before he does, and though muffled, in the quiet peace of your garden, you’re loud enough for him to hear you.

“Yes.” A pause. You fiddle with a worn patch over the knees of your pants, coated in dirt, and evidence of being repaired repeatedly, it’s a well loved set of gardening clothes. Well worn. Well cared for. “If I knew it was you, I’d give you even more flowers too.”

You huff the words out as if frustrated, and Muriel can’t help but look away.

“Why?” he blurts out the question, immediately regretting it when he hears you tuck your face back into your legs. You had said it was embarrassing. He still fails to understand… how.

“You heard the story about my parents.” This time it’s not a question. With your face now tucked behind your knees and safely guarded by an arm, you wave a free hand in the air, as if expecting him to connect whatever dots remains.

As if it was as easy as that.

“You said that they did so to show how much they cared about each other.” You bury your face deeper into your lap. “But you don’t… You don’t know me.”

At this point you’ve thrown your arm over top of your head now too. Trying to fold yourself up into a little human ball. Was this what was embarrassing? That you had been showing affection to someone you’ve never met before? To someone you didn’t know? But you haven’t known each other this entire time. What made it different now?

The glows over your garden, dappling you in it’s golden warmth. There are structures in place, some tall trees intermixed with the bushes outside, but sunbeams still sneak their way to reach you, as if eager to light you up, to amend the gloom that he’s cast over you. One beam streaks across your arms, and as you peek up at him, your eye glows in the golden light, and like magic, you slowly unfold yourself, to sit normally by his side.

“I… You’re right. I’m sorry.”

That was… “You’re apologizing again.” He means to ask it as a question but it doesn’t come out like it should. Hearing it fill the silence, he wonders if that would have been worse.

“I…” again, your hands come up to cover your face, dragging over your eyes, until they’re cupped around your mouth. You’re hiding again. Embarrassed you had said, but he still can’t figure out—“Look, I’m sorry for flirting with you okay?”

Muriel chokes. You don’t seem to notice.

“You don’t have to take it as flirting at all okay? It’s just… You just looked really pretty and I just wanted to give you flowers because I thought you were nice and you helped me out so many times with all those things, you were really brave and tough and yet so kind, and, augh no, look I’m not… I know I don’t know you okay, I’m not expecting you to fall in love with me over some…silly flowers, it’s fine. I… I’m really sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable, I’m really sorry if this is just…weird. I… look my garden is pretty much all I have! People like flowers but I understand if those were maybe just not your thing, and I know maybe roses would’ve been more fitting, but those are just so hard to take care of sometimes and they’re such an overused gift, I mean I kinda thought someone like you would end up tired of receiving those gifts all the time but that’s because I was assuming that you were interested in relationships like that and—”

You keep talking. And talking, and talking and talking. Circling back to the same statements over and over and over again in new contexts as you somehow say so much and very little at the exact same time. It’s nice though. He likes listening to you speak, even if this seems to make you more stressed out than ever, but most importantly, it gives him a moment to try to collect his own thoughts, to try to get his breathing in check. And when both attempts fail, to try and find a way to fold himself up into something tiny and unseeable.

He waits for a while, hoping that you’d trail off somewhere eventually, that he would eventually be able to interject and direct the conversation away, or just…. Ask if you were… serious…. but every glance his way seems to make you more stressed, and you burst out in another round of apologies and reassurances, and on top of it all another round of compliments, many of which keenly focused on…prettiness.

Particularly him… and… being… pretty.

He doesn’t mean to grab your wrist. Poke you maybe, but he doesn’t mean to grab.

It’s just… hard to tell when he’s trying to hide his warming face behind a hand.

There’s a long stretch of silence.

And of course, you try to amend whatever mistake you think that you’ve made. “I’m so sorry I didn’t—” he has to interrupt you this time.

“No… no… It’s…”

You’re really smart. Very, incredibly clever. Burying his face in his lap sounds more and more appealing by the minute, but as much as he wants to he can’t exactly make himself look as small as you managed beside him. Besides, he just… really wants to know.

“I… you think…. I’m….” He can’t. He just can’t. His mouth opens to try, but his throat falls dry each time. It’s a struggle to get the idea of it into his mind without growing furnace-hot at the thought alone. He is a rival to the sun, by mere heat alone.

Somehow, miraculously, you understand… or at least somewhat. “You’re kind, you’re brave… you’re pretty….” You have to look away as well, lips falling victim to the press of your teeth. “You’re pretty as flowers, really.”

Muriel could explode.

You take his embarrassment as distress, faltering and wincing as you try to amend what had never been damaged. If he could, he’d press a hand to your face to shut you up. But that would mean having to remove a hand from hiding his own face away.

“Sorry! Is that….? Is that insulting? I didn’t mean for it to be insulting like that or anything It’s just you know as a gardener and all constantly working with flowers and everything and—”

“No!” he wants to berate himself for yelling. To feel ashamed for raising his voice but the sound of it is so strangled and sounds more like a helpless yelp than anything, only really serving to make him feel more embarrassed.

It’s Embarrassing…

Have you been feeling this way the whole time?

“It’s just that…” many words want to spring their way out of his mouth all at once, and considering his tongue has yet to master the skill of saying two separate words at the same time, Muriel is just left to struggle. “I’ve never…. No one’s ever… It’s not bad it’s just….” He can’t speak. He’s as effective as if he were mute, eyes practically spinning in his skull, as he tries to look anywhere but you.

Still he manages a glance your way, and it gives him pause to find you staring intently at the ground, a little smile stuck upon your lips.

“Oh.”

You try to hide it behind your hand. And Muriel’s terrified to find his first instinct is to grab your wrist and keep you from hiding away, like some sort of greedy hypocrite. To deprive you of the chance to hide when all he would ever do—all he was ever going to do, would be the exact same thing. It’s greed isn’t it? First for your flowers, and your mild kindness towards him and now—! Now!!

What was he going to do now?!

“Do you want a flower?”

You blurt the words out, slamming your hand over your lips to hide away promptly after. You’re standing now, unable to tuck yourself back into your knees, but your hands are still a serviceable shield. It’s nothing to block the words that begin to pour from your lips, but maybe you aren’t trying to stop that. Maybe it’s just your expression. He wonders at what you look like so flustered….

How greedy.

“I mean It’s just—I don’t know if you want something other than a tulip—I’ve given you so many tulips—I haven’t even asked you about your favourite flower! You know! So I just thought! Just— Any flower you want!! Just one!!”

You scurry off somewhere, possibly off to tend to your flowers for something, trying to busy your hands, or just to get away from him. He understands both sentiments very well as his hands tangle themselves together twisting and pulling as he wearily gets up and looks around your pocket of paradise once more.

He doesn’t really want to take any of your flowers. At least… not pluck them straight off of the ground.

The tulip beds overflow with flowers, and like a moth about to be burnt by the flame he wanders towards it, unable to bite back his urges when he plucks a flower from it’s place.

It’s not something he wants it’s just…

It’s stupid….. But……

You return with an armful of various flowers, small simple little things, that fill your arms and get tangled in your clothes, some even worming your way to sit around your shoulders like little faeries peering over at him.

And you offer all that hasn’t attached itself to you, to him.

You don’t even speak, you just shove it all into his arms, like some last ditch effort for… something. As if this was a last ditch effort at all.

The flowers just barely all fit into the crook of his arm, and he’s grateful for once, for being so large. That he can hold so much in one arm alone, as it leaves his other arm free to offer your tulip back to you.

It’s a sign of affection you said. He hopes you understand, because he really can’t stomach speaking right now.

Surely, surely you do… right?

Your eyes go wide as if it was not your own flower he had been offering to you, gingerly taking the little bloom by it’s stem into your own hands.

And when you glance up at him, looking so happy, so giddy and yet trying and failing to hold it all back, he finds that same warm sunshine you’ve offered him when you leaned out your window the first time you met.

It’s so bright, it almost burns. At least, it certainly makes his face burn. He can’t stare at you for long, turning away sharply as he fights the urge to take more than he’s due, to sweep the dirt from your face, pluck the flower from your hand and tuck it behind your ear…. Or…. Something…..

He has to go. He has to leave. His face can’t take much more of this overwhelming warmth.

“I have to—” he begins his retreat muttering as he goes, but you grab him, your hand clinging to the slim portion of his wrist, fingers slipping beneath the cuff, to sensitive skin beneath, as if scared that he might try to tear your hand from his skin.

“Wait you….” Your smile faltered, growing into something sad as you stared at him. “Will…. Will I remember you?”

And for all he wanted to escape, he turns back to you to slip your fingers free from the uncomfortable hold they have on his wrist, to instead take your hand in his own and give what he hopes is a reassuring squeeze. “Yes. You…. Yes. You’ll remember me. So long as you have that pouch I gave you…”

He can see it in your eyes, in the furrow of your brow and how you lean closer to him. You want to know why. What had happened to him, how it happened. You want to ask about the spell that he asked for himself.

But you don’t.

That soft smile glows his way instead, and you squeeze your own hand against his once more.

“Okay,” you say hand already falling slack. “I’ll see you in the market then.” You’re just barely holding on to his fingers now, still squeezing, still trying to let go. “You’ll visit, right?”

He wants to say yes, but you’ll remember him now, and he’d hate to leave you waiting for him.

“The market isn’t really….”

“Ah right." You laugh, though a little awkwardly. "How about here then? Do… do you think you can come back here sometime?”

He nods, not trusting his voice to speak for him. Your fingers are nearly gone from his hand, but you curl them up against his anyways, giving one final squeeze before your hand falls away.

He turns, and with the loud creak of the metal gate marking his departure, he sends one final glance to you, finding you grinning from ear to ear, waving at him as he goes. “Come back soon! I really want to get to know you!”

Tongue tied, and the need to escape burning furiously through his body, Muriel smiles and nods, before he slips through the gate and through the foliage that hides it, already planning the fastest way to get back home, and the fastest way to return to your garden the next day.

–––––––––✿・✿・✿–––––––––

When Muriel gets home his hands are a trembling mess. He misses many times, trying to slip the many flowers he’s received back into the little cup along with the others. Perhaps it’s a bad decision to take up a knife when his hands are trembling this much, but just as much as he shakes with the overwhelming wave of anxiety from talking with you, he trembles just as much with an itch to create.

It’s hard work, and long work, and it’s very far from done when the sun finally sinks down into the sky, but the shape is at least there, and tomorrow he’ll work on scooping out the insides of it to make a vase.

His thumb sweeps over the patterns clumsily carved into the wood but he smiles as he follows the grooves of his work.

A little heart sitting amidst a garden of clumsily carved flowers.

It’s fitting, in a way.

It seems to be where he’s left his own after all.

……

…It…also seems to be where he’s left his basket.

Ah, well, looks like he’ll have to go there tomorrow then, right?

#answering asks #Anonymous #x reader #reader insert #Muriel x reader #Muriel the arcana #Muriel #the arcana muriel #the arcana muriel x reader #the arcana #Muriel the mountain man #Muriel the hermit #muriel of the kokkhuri #muriel arcana #muriel the hermit

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majesty-madness · 1 year

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Hi! Can I request a Naruto Shippuden x Fem!reader where the reader met them all and was this cheerful little girl who loved flowers but as they got older she left or to them she just more likely disappeared but when she came back she was this whole different person now.

Now she's a pretty quiet and calm girl with a powerful aura around her, and if you find a black rose then that means that she was in that place, so what I mean is since she sued to like flowers but not a black rose is kinda her sign now, so the black rose represents her.

Lets say for example she fights with someone and disappears, then there's a black rose on the ground, which means that she was there in that place.

Also she's known as the ~Black Rose~ Since she always leaves a black rose as a sign

Note: She was childhood friends with, Sasuke, Naruto and Sakura also knew her along with Ino but then when she came back they told the others about her (or you can do it in your way, I'll leave the rest to you)

Feel free to ignore this for whatever reason if you want <3

"Black Rose" - Naruto Shippuden x reader (sfw)

Word Count: 8000+

Warnings: angst, battles, violence, blood, injuries, hospital, mentions of serious injuries, flashbacks, worried friends, light arguing, crying, good ending, references to the Hidden Waterfall Village (don’t know if anyone knows about that episode)

a/n: I want to say that this is the first request I have ever done, and I usually don’t take requests; I just write whatever I want to. However, I thought that this could be a chance to experience something new and depending on how this goes, I might do more requests in the future. But I need some time to figure out if this is a good thing to start or if I should keep doing what I’ve been doing. So for anyone it may concern, I’m trying to figure this whole “request” thing because it’s new to me. Thank you for understanding! Hope you enjoy!

Also not proofread.

Main Masterlist

“Do you know which flower this one is, Sakura?” The little girl asked her pink and blonde haired friends.

The pink haired girl shook her head but the blonde nodded.

“That is a Gladiolus!”

“That’s right, Ino! They come in red, pink, white, yellow and orange. But the most important thing is that they have medical properties, so the medic ninja use them all the time for healing.”

Sakura expressed her astonishment. “Wow, that’s so cool! You and Y/N sure know a lot about flowers.”

“Well what do you expect? My family does run a flower shop.” Ino grinned at Sakura with a little giggle following.

Then Y/N chirped in, “And I’ve been studying at the library. If you want Sakura, I’d be happy to teach you about flowers.”

Sakura gasped. “Would you really? Oh that sounds like so much fun!”

Y/N laughed happily, clapping her hands together at the same time. “Yeah! We’re gonna have lots of fun!”

With no effort, her eyes sprang open; staring tiredly at the wooden ceiling above.

She laid there a few more seconds before she forced her head to turn over to the right. On just the other wall, there was a small window with the light of the sun shining through; it was time to get up.

______

At the same time, many people of the village were getting up and ready, especially the Leaf ninja, prepared to be sent on missions.

Ino, after slipping into her uniform, walked out into the street to head straight to the Hokage’s office.

Despite the early hour, the village was already bustling with life. Many people were out shopping, organizing food stalls, and the like.

By this point in her life, Ino was really all that surprised anymore by the efficiency of the Leaf village. Everyone was always quick to start the day, even the regular citizens. It made being a ninja all the more worth it in her opinion; she could protect the prosperity of her home while doing what she’d always wanted to do.

As Ino was making her way down the dirt road, a familiar voice called out to her.

“Hey, Ino!”

Her violet eyes darted off the right, several feet in front of her there stood Sakura.

Ino smiled and waved at her. “Hey Sakura!”

The pink haired ninja suddenly came running over to her side, and then they both continued to walk together down the road. “Good morning.”

“Good morning. What are you doing up so early? I thought you had the day off today.” Ino asked curiously.

“I did, but Lady Tsunade suddenly summoned me. She said she had an important mission for me.” Sakura answered politely.

Ino made a noise, like a hum at the news. “Does it have anything to do with the hidden Waterfall village?”

“Yeah actually, it does.”

Ino looked over at her friend as they walked side by side. “It could be a serious mission then. Do you think she’ll combine our teams?”

“I’m not sure, it’s entirely possible.” Sakura said, moving her gaze back to the dirt path in front of her. “Guess we won’t know until we get there.”

“Yeah, guess so.” Ino agreed, not saying anything else for a couple of minutes. They continued down the path in silence for several more minutes when something just popped into Ino’s head.

“You know, it’s been three years.”

Sakura, knowing exactly what she was talking about, nodded (more to herself). “Since Y/N disappeared.”

Ino hummed again. “I can’t believe how much time has passed. So much has happened.”

“I know. The hardest part is not knowing if she’s okay or not, or if she’s even alive. It reminds me too much of when…” Sakura began to say, but paused as she felt her throat tighten up. “When Sasuke left.” Ino stopped in her tracks, resting her hand on Sakura’s shoulder and forcing her to stop as well. Her green eyes whipped up to meet Ino’s, seeing a look of sympathy on her face.

If anyone understood that feeling of hopelessness (besides Naruto), it would be Ino.

“Don’t worry too much about it, okay? Y/N is nothing like Sasuke; she’ll come back one day. I have faith.” The blonde ninja ressaured.

This made Sakura smile, and her body language indicated that she felt a bit better. “Thank you, Ino.”

Ino patted her shoulder a few times. “No problem. Now let’s hurry to Lady Tsunade’s office, or kill us for being late.”

Sakura laughed in response before heading towards the Hokage building, near the back of the village.

It took only a little while, but eventually Ino and Sakura made their way to the Hokage mansion, and stepped inside Tsunade’s office. Once they did, they saw Shikamaru, Choji, Naruto, and Sai already inside.

“Oh I’m sorry, M’Lady. Are we late?” Sakura apologized, a tad bit nervous that they’d get chewed out.

“No, in fact, I was just about to explain the mission.” Tsunade assured, then leading into the details. “As you may already be aware you all are going to be heading to the Hidden Waterfall village.”

Naruto perked up. “The Hidden Waterfall village?”

Tsunade nodded. “That’s right. I know that three years ago you escorted Lord Shibuki to his homeland safely, and now I’m asking you to return.”

“Please tell me that this doesn’t have anything to do with escorting his son to become the next leader, who’s just as cowardly as he was.” Naruto sighed, clearly annoyed.

“No, there have been reports of the Akatsuki sighted patrolling the village.”

Shikamaru chirped in. “So that’s why you’re assembling such a big team.”

“That’s correct. I don’t want to be taken by surprise, so that’s why I’m assigning all six of you to go and see if there is any truth to these reports. And with that, I’m also assigning you as squad leader, Shikamaru.” Tsunade explained, hands propped up on the desk, fingers intertwined. “You have half an hour to get ready and head to the Hidden Waterfall village, understood?”

“Understood!” Everyone in the room agreed at once and quickly headed out of the office.

Meanwhile, Y/N stalked a rogue shinobi from up in the massive forest, surrounding the Land of Fire.

He had no idea she was there, no inkling at all which made her one of the most efficient ninja in the Hidden Leaf Village.

And the fact that he was distracted with a meeting in the middle of the woods kept him occupied. He was speaking with five other people, exchanging stolen information about the Leaf with them. Though the other individuals were handing him back scrolls of what she assumed was information on other villages as well.

At least after she took down these ninja, she could find out what information was being sold off.

After about ten minutes, the five other shinobi shook hands with the rogue ninja and quickly scattered.

She watched the rogue one sit down onto the ground, taking out a water canister and unscrewing the top.

Being confident that he wasn’t going, Y/N made a hand sign and produced five clones. All of them (including the real Y/N)looked at each other and nodded.

The clones disappeared while Y/N remained inside the thick foliage of the tree leaves.

Her eyes centered on the rogue ninja, relaxing against the tree she was currently hiding in and then abruptly jumped down, colliding elegantly with the solid ground.

The man jumped back clearly startled by her appearance. “What the hell?!”

From her crouching position, Y/N’s sharp eyes, black masked face whip up to make direct, face to face contact with him. She hears the man gasp and try to reach into his bag for a weapon.

Before his hand can even make contact with the pouch, Y/N throws long, precision needles into the man’s arm; pinning him to the dirt.

The man lets out a shout of pain and his arm is pinned at a 90o angle, and stuck behind his back. “What do you want?!” Y/N approaches the man, completely unphased by his screams. Her domineering stance and quiet nature makes the man visibly sweat, and he finds it hard to make any kind of rational thought.

This woman, this woman right here was unlike anything he’d ever seen.

Completely silent in her approach, beautiful figure, graceful in the way she moved with deadly precision, dark eyes locked on him, and an aura that reeked power; unadulterated power.

Never in his life had he ever met a woman that was able to combine beauty with danger; it was a combination he believed didn’t exist and yet here it was.

Should he be scared or impressed? He wasn’t sure.

He tried to reach for another weapon with his other hand, but another, foreign hand had wrapped around his wrist and pinned it there.

When he turned his head to look, he saw that it was a clone of Y/N, a flurry of black rose petals appearing as quickly as the clone had. It piqued his curiosity.

“Don’t try that again.” Y/N finally said, voice low and smooth.

“I asked you what you wanted.” The man grunted out, trying now not to move around too much.

Y/N walked forward, slipped her hand into the side pocket of his uniform and pulled out a seal scroll with the information he traded for earlier. “I want this.”

He watched Y/N neatly put away the scroll into her back pouch before speaking. “You looking for information on other villages too?”

“Actually, I’m looking for those documents you stole from the Leaf, but if I happen to gain a bit of an advantage over another village then so be it,” She softly explains, tone never fluctuating.

Without warning, the man burst out laughing. “Oh, I’m sorry! I’m afraid that those pretty little documents are already on their way out of the Land of Fire.”

Finally, Y/N’s voice changed when she hummed in amusement. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”

As soon as she finished, four clones then appeared at Y/N’s side. She raised her hand up just a bit and snapped her fingers; like that each of them, including the clone pinning the man’s arm, revealed the stolen documents he had just sold off to other rogue ninja.

More black petals floated down from the air as each one of her clones suddenly appeared before them.

His eyes widened in complete shock, air getting stuck in his throat almost preventing him from taking a proper breath.

They kept the documents out only for a couple of seconds then slid them back into their packs.

“Looks like this is the end of the line for you.”

“Wait!” The man screamed out, making Y/N pause for a moment to see what he wanted. When a couple of seconds passed, the man spoke again.

“There were rumors, started a couple of years ago. They were about a rogue assassin, killing other ninja left and right.” The man explained, the cold sweat rolling down his temples.

Y/N said nothing, it made him swallow nervously. “No one could find their bodies; all that was left were pools of blood and a single black rose.”

Then Y/N squinted at him, eyes narrow and fierce. “They called this assassin: Black Rose. I thought it was just rumors but…”

“You’ve changed your mind?” Y/N asked condescendingly.

“Well I’ve never seen anyone leave black petals lying around when they use clones or teleport said clones.”

There was a pregnant pause as both parties stared at each other, one’s heart racing and the other’s heart steady as drum.

Y/N clicked her tongue. “You should’ve believed the rumors, maybe you could’ve lived longer. Your complacency is what led you here.”

She saw the man tense up. “I believe them now so maybe we could make a deal.”

He tried to sound tough or unaffected by the aura surrounding this woman, but inside the terror was speeding over her nerves, up his spine, nearing choking him.

“I don’t make deals with rogues. I’m afraid that this is the end for you.”

“No!” The man screamed out, the panic now controlling him.

No please, I’ll do whatever you want. I’ve got resources, information; just tell me what you want.” The man pleaded.

Y/N took a step back, raising both hands to form a single hand sign. “I want you to disappear.” Then in a barrage of hand signs, too fast to keep, Y/N weaved her fingers together before landing on the final sign. “Ninja art: Black Flower Decay.”

A whirlwind of black flower petals swirled around them as if the wind was guiding their movements, eching their way closer and closer.

The man watched the petals coming his way and one single petal landed on his cheek; it was hot, burned even. But it was one petal, and for a split second he thought maybe he could take it, however that thought quickly left his mind when more petals started to collect on his skin.

Now the burning sensation grows in intensity until eventually the pain became overwhelming. The man again screamed out but this time it was more gutural; more real.

In a final blow, the wind directs the flower petals on every square inch of the man’s body. Then the petals began to completely break down the man’s body til nothing was left.

The man’s body was gone, the clones disappeared, the petals vanished, and the only thing left was a single black rose placed on the ground.

In seconds, Y/N was already miles away from the location of the rogue she’d just eliminated. Not to mention the other shinobi that she also killed when they took off with information that could’ve easily led to the destruction of the Leaf.

And no matter what she was not going to let that happen, not when she loved ones waiting for her.

Three years had passed since she was assigned on this mission, and not a single day went by that she didn’t think about her friends back home.

She wondered if any of them had made Chunin or Jounin, or if Lee had made a complete recovery from his surgery, or even wondered if Hinata had confessed her feelings for Naruto.

These were the types of things that wandered through her head, the things that kept her sane. Though after all this time, she wondered if they thought about her.

Maybe the first couple of months, sure since it was only a couple of months after Sasuke abandoned them all that she was sent away, but they were ninja; they had to focus on training, completing missions, trying not to die.

Truth be told, they most likely didn’t have the time to even wonder about her well being. Who would after three years? For someone who didn’t even say goodbye?

Oh well…

She was assigned a mission and had to complete it no matter what. That’s why Lady Tsunade entrusted this mission to her and only her.

Y/N was ripped out of her thoughts by a sudden and powerful burst of lightning right for her.

In a split second, she managed to dodge the attack in mid air and jumped to the nearest tree branch. From behind the sound of the lighting making contact with another tree causing the wood to splitter and blow apart.

The attack kicked up a bunch of dust to which nothing was visible for a couple of minutes.

Y/N waved her hand through the air to try to clear the area, watching as the dust only moved away from her general vicinity but nowhere else.

Her eyes darted around trying to fight the source of the attack, but before she could come to a conclusion she heard a voice from a somewhat short distance.

“I’m surprised you were able to dodge that so easily.”

That voice, that voice sounded familiar.

No, it couldn’t be.

As quickly as it appeared, a gust of wind swept away the debris, wiping the area completely clean of any signs of attack.

Her eyes widened, staring directly at the figure that stood on the solid ground twenty feet away. It was-

“Sasuke?”

“Most people would have been killed by an attack like that.” The Uchiha stated coldly.

Shaking the surprise, Y/N pulled herself back into espionage mode. “What are you doing here, Sasuke? Finally have a guilty conscience and decide to get over your superiority complex?”

Sasuke didn’t react. He didn’t smirk, or laugh sarcastically, he simply stood there with a cool expression. “You’ve caused Orochimaru some trouble; eliminating his line of resources and so he’s asked me to deal with you.”

“He’s still alive then. I’m surprised, I figured by now you would have killed him and taken control over his lackeys.” Y/N continued to retort back while on the inside she was getting nervous.

He hadn’t demonstrated his full power, however she’s always known he was strong. He was a Uchiha afterall.

“That will come eventually. Unfortunately, there is still something I need from him so until then I will do what I have to do.”

Y/N didn’t have anything else to say instead she stood there quietly, her right hand subtly reaching behind her into her tool bag.

Just as she had the kunai out of the pouch, she watched Sasuke vanish and his overwhelming presence was suddenly behind her.

She whipped her head around, eyes meeting a pair of crimson ones.

________

“This is so stupid!” Naruto complained very loudly for all to hear.

“Oh shut up, Naruto! You haven't stopped complaining since we left the Hidden Waterfall Village.” Sakura yelled back at him.

All Naruto did was huff as the entire team dashed across the treetops.

“It’s just if there are going to be rumors about the Akatsuki hanging around, they could at least do me the favor of actually being there.” Naruto added with a pout.

“Are you serious?” Choji chirped in from the back of the formation.

Then Shikamaru cut in. “Think about it; if the Akatsuki were actually there, we would’ve had our hands full even with the six of us.”

“Besides, you should know by now that rumors are not always true. So stop pouting.” Ino interjected as well, her own annoyance palpable in her tone.

Naruto grumbled in response, whatever words he was spouting to himself not audible to anyone else.

He remained mumbling for a while, even sprinting ahead of everyone without thinking about it.

“Stupid Akatsuki, stupid mission, stupid Shikamaru, stupid…” His vision caught an unusual color in the corner of his eye.

It wasn’t far so he immediately went to go take a closer look, oblivious to his team members flying right by only to stop once they noticed he was going in a different direction.

“Where do you think he’s going?” Sai asked, not expecting anyone to know that answer.

“Naruto! What are you doing?” Sakura from up on a tree branch as she saw Naruto jump down to the dirt floor.

He did not turn around to reply, but kept walking through the grass and bushes of the forest. “There’s something weird over here.”

Sai, Sakura, Ino, Shikamru, and Choji all exchanged looks of confusion before Sakura followed after him first and hopped down off the tree.

Naruto had a few feet on them as he stepped into a small clearing, seeing blood painting the ground.

He gawked at the sight for a second then focused on the next unusual thing, more unusual than blood in the middle of the woods.

In the middle of the pools of blood sat a single black rose.

Throwing caution to the wind, Naruto reached forward to grab ahold of the rose. His fingers had barely skimmed the surface of the dark petals when Sakura’s voice called out to him.

“What are you doing?! It could set off a trap.”

Naruto was too wrapped up in his own thoughts that his brain didn’t register anything his teammate was saying as he turned around to face them with the rose in the palm of his hand.

“Guys, what’s a rose doing out in the middle of nowhere like this and around all this blood?”

Once the gang’s eyes rested on the rose in Naruto’s hand most of them remained confused, but Shikamaru’s expression changed to one of knowing anxiety.

“Black Rose.” Was all Shikamaru uttered and everyone looked over at him now.

“What?” Choji questioned first.

“There’s been a lot of disappearances within the Land of Fire lately, all kinds of ninja gone in the blink of an eye with only their blood and a single black rose left behind.” Shikamaru explained, taking a moment to observe the battle field they were standinding before continuing.

“While there’s not a lot of tangible proof, the ninja that’s been doing this has been credited with over a hundred assassinations over the last three years factoring in they are even assassinations; but given the amount of blood I would say so.”

Ino couldn’t help but perk up at the mention of three years. She subconsciously mouthed them to herself, and her mind immediately jumped to the realization that her best friend had been gone that exact amount of time.

Is it possible-

There was a thud and a rustling within a tree off to the team’s right, about six feet away.

It took only a moment for each member to get into a defensive formation as they eyed the direction in which the rustling came from.

The tree leaves moved around a bit some more and then a figure fell out from the tree landing at the team’s feet causing all of them to jump back.

Even Sakura and Ino had gasped when this mysterious fell out of thin air.

From what they could see, it was a female; about their age, probably about average height with what looked to be a long scarf hanging around her neck and covering part of her face.

It was easy to tell that she was very unconscious even with her face covered. And she was injured.

“She’s bleeding!” Naruto pointed out as soon as he realized that fact.

He rushed over to her side while assessing her wounds, then reached to pull her mask off. His back blocked the others' view of the female and they waited for any kind of signal from Naruto.

“Uh guys?” He said, voice laced with shock and a slight tremble of anxiousness.

“What is it, Naruto?” Shikamaru calmly asked.

Without another word, Naruto took a couple of steps to the side revealing the woman to them.

There was lull in all sound, even the breeze that rushed against their ears suddenly went quiet. Everything that had once made sound now only sounded like the white noise coming from a tv, growing louder by each passing second.

It was almost too much.

“Y/N?” Ino’s voice broke them out of their trance right before she took a hesitant step forward.

Her mind seemed to catch up as she lunged forward, her best friend’s name leaving her mouth one more time. “Y/N!”

She bent down next to Naruto, violet eyes darting across Y/N’s body to see if they were more serious injuries. In her search, she saw a large laceration across Y/N’s back. The blood from the wound had soaked into the fabric of her uniform causing a clot to form there.

“She has a severe wound on her back, it’s big; probably eight inches in length.” Ino started to describe, weaving a quick hand sign then holding her hand over Y/N’s back, her hands glowing green as she began to heal the opening.

Sakura rushed over, appearing on the other side of Y/N. “Has it begun to clot?”

“A bit.” Ino answered curtly. “It looks like the tissue itself wasn’t. The blood soaked into the shirt, it’s acting as a sort of gauze.”

The others stepped closer to nervously observe Ino and Sakura’s movements.

Sakura then reached into her back pouch to pull out a black-brownish jar with a rigid lid. “Sai! Come over here.”

Sai reacted swiftly, making it to Sakura’s side in no time as she opened the jar in her hands.

“Now Sai, I want you to very slowly and very carefully peel back the fabric of her shirt; as you do I’m going to apply this paste to keep the wound from bleeding. It’ll act as a temporary bandage. You got it?”

“Got it!”

And just as Sakura had said Sai followed her instructions to the letter and as she mentioned as well, every inch of skin that was revealed under the uniform shirt, she applied a nearly transparent gel onto the surface of the wound to keep it from free flowing.

The moment that was finished, Sakura put the jar away and directed her gaze to Ino. “We have to go, it’s another couple of hours to the village at least. If she’s gonna make it, we have to go now.”

Ino nodded, stopping her healing and taking a hold of one of Y/N’s arms; the one closest to her. “Let’s get her up.” Sai then assisted with the other arm, and they both wrapped each arm around their shoulders.

“If we really push it, we can make it back to the village in less time.” Shikamaru suggested, his expression now back to normal with a subtle hint of concern.

“Well let's hurry then.” Choji added.

Naruto quickly stood up from his position, bringing a fist slamming into his other palm with a look of determination on his face. “Yeah the only chance Y/N’s got is if we stop talking and get on with it.”

All six ninja exchanged brief glances at each other then took off in the direction of the village with Y/N coming in and out of consciousness.

It felt like a lifetime but eventually they made it and as Shikamaru had said, they really pushed it and got there in only thirty minutes.

It was definitely a rough half hour, although it was a small price to pay for getting their friend the treatment that she desperately needed.

They all barged into the hospital, shouting several things all at once that it was hard for the front desk nurse to understand what they were saying. The point got across after Lady Tsunade showed up.

She’d heard that Y/N had returned to the village or rather had been dragged back because she had a serious injury to the back.

Sakura requested that she assist Tsunade in the surgery, but she denied it saying that Shizune would assist which left Sakura feeling helpless.

Tsunade understood that she wanted to help her teammate and friend, someone who had disappeared much like her love Sasuke, but even from a glance she could easily discern that Y/N’s injuries were serious.

Even though Sakura was a skilled medic ninja, she lacked the experience of delicate surgeries and Y/N’s condition required delicacy.

Sakura, Naruto, Sai, Shikamaru, Ino, and Choi waited with what could barely be considered patience, out in the waiting room.

Everyone sat down in an uncomfortable chair except for Naruto; he opted to pace.

Of course it set everyone on edge, but he has always been a fidgety person so add a bit of stress to that and he couldn’t sit still.

Though, Sakura did yell at him for not sitting like a normal person (her words). Normally Naruto wouldn’t have argued with the matter because she would’ve beaten him to a pulp for not heeding her word, but not this time.

He exclaimed that there was no way he could sit down since one of his friends was in surgery. Sakura remained quiet after that.

The silence permeated the very air they were breathing as they kept waiting for some sort of news on Y/N’s condition.

Until finally, Tsunade came out to meet them.

“She’s going to be just fine.” That was the first thing she said to them with a confident smile.

All the young shinobi had sighed in relief, the stress dripping off their shoulders to disappear forever.

“However,” Tsunade prefaced, “She’s in a medically induced coma so she won’t wake up for a while. The best thing she needs right now is sleep; this is also to keep her from moving around with that back injury so it’ll heal.”

Once more the young ninja exchanged looks of relief, happy to know that their friend was going to make it.

________

Nearly a week passed before Y/N woke up from her coma.

Her eyes felt the glare from the sunlight seeping in from the outside, and a warm sensation encasing her wrist.

When her gaze shifted to the presence of the warmth, she saw Lady Tsunade standing at her bedside while checking her pulse.

Honestly, at first, she didn’t recognize Tsunade for a few seconds until she spoke up.

“Well hello there, sleepy head. Finally decided to wake up.”

Y/N blinked a few times. “Lady Tsunade?”

The Hokage gently set Y/N’s hand back down to her side before crossing her arms and smiling down at the young woman. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

“How-” She looked around the hospital room confused. “How did I get here?”

“I had sent several of your friends out on a mission to investigate rumors of the Akatsuki near the Hidden Waterfall village and on they’re way back, they found you lying in the middle of the forest.” Tsunade wasted no time explaining, her smile falling to a more casual expression.

Y/N’s eyes darted away to the hospital ceiling again, mouth gaped open subconsciously as her mind flashed back to that last thing she remembered.

“I vaguely remember somebody picking me up from the ground, but it’s all kind of hazy after that.” Y/N admitted.

Tsunade took a deep breath before speaking. “That’s not shocking, you were critically injured. It’s a miracle you were still alive when they brought you in.”

Both paused to gather their thoughts, the room becoming silent.

“What happened to you out there?” Tsunade asked with a startling seriousness.

She took some time to think through it, going back to every second stuck in her struggle against an old classmate. A classmate she actually used to know fairly well, and now he was nothing more than a stranger that she crossed unfortunate paths with.

“It was Sasuke.”

Tsunade didn’t even look surprised or shocked, it seemed as though she was already aware of who had almost killed her. After a minute or two, Tsunade nodded (more to herself).

“I see.”

“You don’t look surprised.” Y/N mentioned quickly.

The older blonde woman shook her head. “When I was performing your surgery, it was easy to make out the lightning pattern on your back. And not only that, upon taking a closer look I could see that the lightning had managed to barely sear the bone of your spine.”

She watched Y/N’s eyes widened at the revelation. Tsunade continued, “The attack was so precise that it scarred the bone, there’s one person I can think of that could use lightning like that.”

Y/N listened in horror, while trying to keep her mind from exploding with all the information coming in at once. “I am going to be okay?”

“Yes, luckily the scarring on your spine was superficial and there was no permanent damage that will affect your ability to walk or anything of the sort. The real problem was trying to close off the laceration, but that’s been taken care of too.”

“Oh thank goodness…” Y/N breathed a sigh of relief, holding her hand up to her chest.

Tsunade stepped forward, arms resting back at her sides. “However, you will need to rest as much as you can and you’ll need to start physical therapy.”

Y/N grumbled something under her breath; she would’ve rolled her eyes but her head hurt too much.

“Don’t get an attitude with me. It’s important to get your body back up to speed, that surgery took a lot out of you.” Tsunade scolded, her own brows pinching together in a frown.

“Yeah, yeah I know.” The younger ninja waved her off, choosing to now stare at the wall ahead of her as she sat up against her pillows.

She tried to suppress a deep rooted groan, unfortunately it proved useless, as the shock of pain in her back caught her off guard.

Her mouth let out a gasp before her teeth came clamping down on each other to soften any other noises that would try to escape.

“Try to move around slowly. Even if you were asleep for a week, you need to give yourself some time to heal.”

Y/N’s nearly popped out of her skull when those words processed in her brain. “A week? I’ve been here a whole week?”

Lady Tsunade opened her mouth to say something only to be interrupted when the hospital room door came slamming open.

“I can’t take it anymore!”

A familiar bright blonde haired male came bursting into the room with no regard for what anyone else was saying (Tsunade). He ran over to Y/N’s bedside, a now bright grin on his face.

“Hey Y/N, how ya doing?” He asked casually. It soon earned him a hard whack to the back of the head, a pink haired girl moving in.

“Naruto, you idiot! I told you to WAIT!” Sakura shouted quite angrily. Then she yanked Naruto back by the collar of his orange and black jacket.

Slowly, but surely several other people began to filter into the room, each other with their own unique uniform design.

And she knew every single one of them! Her face didn’t show it but she was glad to see them, it had been too long since the last time she saw them and now here they were.

Every one of them was taller than she remembered; particularly Shikamaru. Back then, she used to think that Shikamaru was kind of small but not so much now; he was fuller, broader.

He had grown up quite a bit.

Sakura had still been yelling at Naruto when Y/N shook herself out of her head, and focused on what was happening right now.

“Come on, Sakura…Cut me some slack okay? It’s been forever since I saw her last.”

“Ugh…” Sakura sighed as she placed a couple of fingers to her temple to dampen the oncoming headache. She switched gears in a few seconds as she faced Y/N, a small replacing the scowl.

“It’s been too long though, what have you been up to?” She nicely asked.

Y/N paused for a second as she thought of what to say; suddenly her throat felt unusable and her mind blanked. All the time she spent thinking of her friends, she never thought about what she’d say once she saw them again.

“O-oh…you know, finishing up a mission” She plainly answered, trying to sound like she used to.

What did she used to sound like?

There echoed a collective noise of surprise coming from her friends, their faces matching that.

“A mission? You mean the past three years, you’ve been on a mission?” Ino cut in, stepping forward to now be standing close by Y/N’s left side.

Y/N’s eyes danced over the faces of the people she once knew, to realize that they were different. It made her throat feel snapped shut.

She swallowed, noticing the soreness of it. “Yeah…”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Choji asked, his voice taking on obvious sadness.

Y/N went to answer but Tsunade cut her off. “It was a stealth mission of the highest order. It needed to be kept secret. No one was allowed to even be aware of why or when she was leaving the village.”

“So that’s why you left without saying goodbye.” Ino voiced as she held her hand against her chest as if she were trying to keep herself focused on the now instead of thinking on what happened back then. She wouldn't admit it out loud, but when she learned that Y/N was gone and no one knew why, she feared that she had succumbed to the same darkness that corrupted Sasuke.

Y/N was her best friend, they told each other everything especially the dumbest of stuff. They always said “Hi” or Good morning, always trading a goodbye before departing on a mission. In some weird way, they felt secure in that. To them it felt like a guarantee that even though they said goodbye it would never be the last.

So when Y/N suddenly wasn’t there anymore, it left Ino afraid that she had been unable to stop her from following a path with no way to return.

Y/N hung her head in shame, now having a difficult time looking them in the eyes. All she saw was the lingering disappointment swimming in their eyes.

“You’re different than before.” Naruto added in the middle of the silence.

She knew all too well.

“Back then, whenever you were around us you were always smiling, always laughing with us. And even when we’d end up in the hospital after a mission, you were always there to cheer us up.” Naruto continued, his usual boisterous personality on the back burner as he spoke softly and sincerely.

“But now, you’ve got this blank look on your face like you don’t know what smiling is.”

He wasn’t wrong. Not at all.

Three years spent on a mission tucking away her feelings, forgetting how much she missed being home and being with friends, and forgetting what made her who she is would make anyone feel as if they didn’t belong in the very place they called home.

It wasn’t a revelation she was prepared for.

The moment she tied that headband to her head she thought the it would be in the middle of the battlefield that she’d feel the most on edge, never did she think that moment would fall on her when she was surrounded by those she loved.

“Don’t be so insensitive, Naruto.” Sakura scolded him again, though this time she spoke less angrily and more concerned for Y/N’s reaction.

“Look, what I’m saying is that you’re not the same as before. What happened out there?”

Finally, Y/N looked up. “A lot of things happened out there. And-”

“Okay, that’s enough for one day.” Shikamaru advised after several minutes of not speaking.

“But Shikamaru-” Naruto began but Shikamaru spoke over him.

“Remember she’s suffered a critical injury; she still needs time to heal and us bringing up details of a delicate mission isn’t helping.”

At that, Naruto’s blue eyes drifted to the tiled floor in a silent agreement.

“Shikamaru is right, the best thing you all can do for her is to let her rest. Her bandages need replaced anyway, so clear out.” Tsunade ordered gently while crossing her arms over her chest.

Silently, each member made their way out of the room, glancing back to Y/N a few times (collectively) before they were out the door. Y/N and Tsunade waited until they could no longer hear their footsteps to say anything else.

“He’s right.” Y/N uttered, staring down at her palms.

“That’s his other gift…” Tsunade said thoughtfully, walking around Y/N’s bed to face the window. “He senses changes in people, no matter how subtle. It’s easy to forget when he acts like a moron.”

Y/N felt her mouth quirk up into a sentimental smile. “It's because of that ability that makes him such a force to be reckoned with.”

“I agree.” Tsunade stood by the window for a few more moments then looked over her shoulder at Y/N. “Alright, how about we get those bandages changed?”

________

Time passed, at what felt like, a blink.

Another week passed before Y/N was cleared to go home, but it felt like time rushed by her. Even when her friends would visit her, the hours they’d spend trying to fill Y/N on what she missed, seemed like mere minutes; gone without a chance to turn around.

Maybe that was better.

Since that first visit, Y/N hadn’t been able to shake the feeling of guilt hanging over her. Every time any one of her old friends came to see her, she saw the sadness in their eyes.

She attempted to act like how she used to, happily-go-lucky, but it was all forced and definitely difficult to keep that up so she quickly decided to let it naturally come back to her.

Whenever that would happen.

It was hard; knowing that her friends expected her to revert back to the old days, and be who she was. And she wanted to be that for them, she truly did, it’s just being on a mission that negated any sort of humanly interaction or connection made it seem like it was all a dream to begin with.

And when she couldn’t deliver, the disappointment always returned.

Now she was a walking blank canvas; splashed with a coat of white to hide any unique colors and patterns.

It almost scared her how much she didn’t react or feel.

Would she ever be the same?

The thought lingered at the forefront of her mind while Y/N sat criss cross on her own bed.

Her back was slouching a bit which caused her to grunt in pain when she straightened herself out again.

Lady Tsunade ordered her to sit as straight as she possibly could to help the healing process, but she was a creature of habit so she’d start out with correct posture then slip back into a slouch then would quickly correct herself again.

It was causing a lot of unnecessary pain.

Y/N huffed as she forced her shoulders to lie straight and back up, being as perpendicular as she could. While she did so, she kept her eyes on the blue sky filled with an abundance of white, fluffy clouds.

Cloud watching was a hobby of her’s, particularly when there wasn’t a lot going on during her mission.

Any time she felt nervous or anxious or bored, she’d tilt her head back and watch them float.

There was something very relaxing about that process.

But she didn’t enjoy it for long when a knock came at her door. Y/N perked up, head whipping to the other side of her room.

“Who is it?” She asked aloud.

“It’s me, Ino.” The muffled voice said on the other side of the door.

Bracing herself, Y/N carefully lifted her aching body up from the bed to make her way to the front door.

She opened the door to find an anxious Ino, twiddling her thumbs. “Hi.”

“Hey, can you come with me somewhere?” Ino abruptly asked.

Y/N raised a brow at her. “I guess, but where are we going?”

Her answer visibly made Ino relax. She let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “It’s a surprise.”

Then she turned on her heel, making her way down the apartment building hallway and in no time, Y/N followed close behind her.

For some reason, Ino chose not to make conversation on the way to wherever it was they were going.

Instead she quietly led the way, leaving the village houses behind with each passing step and ventured through some trees.

Something about the path they were taking looked familiar, so much so that it caused a warmth to center in Y/N’s gut spreading over her nerves like a warm blanket.

When it came to forests, three years isn’t enough time for it to change, and it looked exactly as it did back then.

Ino eventually stepped through the set of trees, and made it into a sunbathed clearing, completely lavished with a mass of flowers.

Y/N eyes grew wide at the sight; she couldn’t remember the last time she had been here even before she left.

Once she graduated from the academy there was never time to come back here, to relax and enjoy the simple colors of the flowers and their comforting smells wafting through the air.

It still looked like the small piece of heaven she loved so dearly.

“I can tell you remember this place.” Ino finally said, turning around to fully face Y/N; a soft smile on her face. “I know how much you used to love it here.”

“Why are we here?” Y/N asked, her own gaze observing every flower grazing her legs.

Ino stepped up to Y/N, laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Because we loved this place when we were kids, so let’s enjoy it.”

Then Ino lightly nudged Y/N to follow her again and this time they didn’t walk that much further when they met a slight slope slanting downwards from where they were.

Ino took a spot on the small slope, then again nudged for Y/N to sit down with her. She did.

As soon as Y/N seated herself onto a patch of grass, Ino reached out and pulled out a white flower with a yellow center. “Do you remember what kind of flower this is?”

Y/N let out a quick airy laugh, caught slightly off guard by the question. “Uh..a jasmine.”

Ino nodded with a smile. Still holding the jasmine, she plucked out another one. This flower was drenched in a bright pink, petals resembling lace. “This one?”

“A carnation.”

She picked another one; it had a long green stem with a bushel of tiny purple petals at the top. “This one?”

Y/N nodded. “Lavender.”

Reaching for one more, Ino pulled up a flower with a somewhat stringy inside, center white and the petals gradually from that bright white to a light pink.

“How about this one?”

To Y/N’s shock, she didn’t recognize it. It definitely looked familiar, but there were several other flowers popping in her head that matched the look of it.

Staring at the flower, Y/N cautiously shook her head as if she were afraid she would disappoint Ino.

Ino held the flower up to her nose to smell the fragrance, closing her eyes a second to relish it before opening them again. “It’s a gladiolus.”

Y/N sadly decided not to respond to that.

“It was your favorite one back then. When we were still in the academy, you told Sakura and I that they could be all sorts of colors like pink..” she gestured to the pink one in her hand. “Or yellow or white. And you also said that they had healing properties used by our medic ninja. It was easy to tell how excited you were to tell us about it; how much you knew about flowers.”

“What’s going on, Ino? Why are we out here?” Y/N finally confronted the strange behavior of her friend.

Ino rested her hands in her lap, the flowers she’d plucked nearly falling from her limp hands. “I thought that if I could remind you of what you used to do, what we used to do together when we were kids, maybe it’d bring back the part of you that’s been hiding.”

“And you were the only one who wasn’t disappointed in me to try, huh?” Y/N laughed humorlessly.

Quickly, Ino faced her friend. “None of us were disappointed in you. We were all worried because you weren’t yourself anymore, and we could see how upset that made you.”

“Then why are you the only one who’s said anything? Why are you the only one out here?” Y/N began to feel the hopelessness grow in her chest like an infection.

Somewhere in the past week, she had rationalized that she had lost her friends because she couldn’t be there the same way as she could three years ago.

“I’m the only one out here because I asked everyone if I could be the first to help you remember. After this, Sakura and Naruto got their own thing planned for you.”

“What do you mean?” Y/N questioned, utterly confused by that statement.

“Well…” Ino began then recounted what happened only a few hours ago.

It was the middle of the afternoon when Sakura, Ino, and Naruto strolled down the street. Originally, Sakura and Ino were walking together but then Naruto saw them and caught up to them to talk as well.

There was some simple chatter going on between them when Naruto began to complain. “Don’t you guys think it’s weird that Y/N isn’t acting like herself anymore?”

Sakura and Ino stopped in their tracks, standing beside each other as Naruto took a few steps ahead before stopping himself, arms coming down to his sides after being held up in a casual posture.

“It’s not weird.” Ino answered somberly.

Sakura frowned. “It isn’t unusual for people to change when they’ve been alone on a mission for that long, especially if it was high priority.”

Naruto gritted his teeth. “I know, but it’s still weird to me. She used to be so happy back then, it was never boring when she was around, she had so much energy and now it’s like that person is gone. Like someone is impersonating her.”

“She’s not gone.” Ino was quick to add. “I can still see the cheerful girl we used to know, I think she’s just got lost along the way.”

Sakura nodded. “I think you’re right.”

There was a brief inter pause when Ino gasped, startling both Sakura and Naruto. “I have an idea!”

The other two ninja waited patiently for Ino to tell them what her idea was.

“We’ve been trying to fill her in on all that she’s missed the past three years right? Well if we instead we show her things of our past together, from when we were kids?”

Sakura’s eyes lit up. “Like when we played in the river together?”

“Or when we read comic books and played games together?!” Naurot chided, his voice grew louder than it was seconds ago.

Ino snapped her fingers and grinned. “Exactly! If we re-experience places we went, things we liked to do then maybe we could remind her of who she is.”

“It’s worth a shot at least.” Sakura smiled, looking between Ino and Naruto.

Naruto threw his fist up in the air. “Are you kidding me? That idea is awesome!”

“Alright, then from now on, each of us will try to remind Y/N of our precious memories together. Ready?” Ino closed her hand, and stuck a fist out to her friends.

Sakura and Naruto both bumped Ino’s fist, earning an excited cheer from all three at the same time.

“You see? That’s all we want, is for you to remember not who you used to be but who you are.” Ino explained, leaning over to a bundle of gladiolus flowers and extending them toward Y/N.

Her violet gaze could see the beginnings of tears gathering in Y/N’s eyes. “Like these gladiolus, maybe we could begin to heal you. If that’s okay?”

They fell, the tears that had been clouding her vision rolled down her cheeks, leaving a warm sensation in their wake.

For the first time in a long time, Y/N let out a relieved sob, taking the bundle of flowers from Ino’s grasp. Her head dipped down to stare at the colorful bouquet, watching her tears fall onto the petals and pool there.

The shame and guilt that hung off her injured back, finally disappeared, giving her the chance to breathe again, to actually breathe. Each inhale of air felt cold going down her throat but left her refreshed.

It was overwhelming.

Ino gave her space, letting her friend cry, to push out everything that she’d kept buried under a lock and key.

It wasn’t until Y/N had pulled her head back up and extended her arms out, that she hugged Y/N tightly to her and she reciprocated. Ino could feel her own tears begin to build.

Y/N cried a little while longer, then allowed herself to speak through the sobs. “Thank you; for not giving up on me.”

Ino pulled back, hands then resting softly on Y/N’s shoulders again. “That’s what friends are for.”

That caused Y/N to let out a tearful laugh and Ino mimicked that.

It was good to be home.

a/n: this was a long one, and I probably wrote more than I really needed to but honestly I do that more than people think. Regardless, if you're reading this thank you for making it all the way through this; it was a lot.

#naruto #naruto shippuden #naruto uzumaki #sakura haruno #sai #ino yamanaka #choji akimichi #shikamaru nara #sasuke uchiha #tsunade #naruto shippuden x reader #naruto imagines #naruto oneshot #naruto angst #naruto fluff #request

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piece-of-hweat · 7 months

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Little Nightmares... but flowers?

Okay so there's this thing in OMORI where each main character has a flower that correlates to their personality. Kel being a cactus because he's resilient, Hero being a rose because he's universally loved, etc.

Now what if we were to assign flowers to each Nightmare Kid?

Like Noone, Low, Mono, Six, Cici, Raincoat, etc.

I've left a whole essay on this topic below, so you can look at that if you really want to--

NONETHELESS! I really wanna hear yall's thoughts on this- Feel free to reply your own ideas!

-------

Ideas/flowers I assigned are listed below:

I think Mono would be a crocus or a forget-me-not. They're both colours I think he'd like, and I've always imagined Mono to be a winter-birthday kid. Crocus are flowers that bloom in late winter, and I suppose that also represents resilience in a way??? Not many flowers bloom in the winter because of the cold. As for forget-me-nots... I think it's easy to explain? Forget-me-nots usually symbolize faithfulness and remembrance, and Mono just... radiates that stuff.

Six would either be a poppy, dandelion, or a bleeding hearts flower. Poppy because they actually have two meanings! In western culture, it represents death, because of its blood-red colour, while in eastern culture, they represent success or passion, if I remember correctly. Dandelion is... self-explanatory? It's yellow, like Six's raincoat, and it's a weed- just like Six- (/hj /hj) Bleeding hearts is also self-explanatory. It's literally a flower that looks like a bleeding heart. Plus they're cool, and I think Six would think so as well. I rest my case.

Noone is probably the easiest? I mean... she did have a flower in the podcast so my homework's already done for me. I think Noone would be a chrysanthemum or a poppy. Poppy for the same reason as Six, it means death and success Chrysanthemum because it's the flower that her parents left her before she was taken under Otto's "care"

Raincoat would probably be a hibiscus or a carnation. Raincoat was a pretty short-lived character, just like how hibiscus have a short life-span. They also mean "gentle" or something of the sort. Since Raincoat radiates gentle older-sister-energy, I'm giving this to her. Red carnations are a symbol of love (both romantic and platonic), protection, and passion. Raincoat feels like a very loving character, and a passionate one at that. She feels like she'd do anything in her power to protect anyone she loves. She just... feels like a carnation.

I don't have much to say about Runaway, but he feels like a periwinkle person. Reason 1, it means hope (apparently), and Runaway seems to have a lot of ties to "hope"? I'm not sure where or how we got there, but... nonetheless it's still there. Reason 2, it's blue. That's it. It's blue, just like Runaway. I would say the typical "water lily" or "lotus", because Runaway has a lot of connections to water... but... That's basic. Plus, lotus and lilies mean like... "purity" and "calmness" and all that jazz, and the Runaway in my head is the pure and utter opposite to "calm" and "virtuous". The only lily-flower I'd refer him to would be pink or yellow water lilies. Pink because they apparently mean friendship and joy, yellow because they mean energy and new beginnings.

Low and Alone are their own can of worms that I can't even open. We know next to nothing about these two, so how am I supposed to assign a flower based on their characteristics if I have no characteristics to work with? The only thing I can offer atm is Alone being a tiger lily and Low being a Birds of Paradise flower. Tiger lily because they remind me of Alone's silly goofy hair. And Birds of Paradise because... um... bird-boy.

#just asking #flowers #tson noone #little nightmares #little nightmares 2 #little nightmares 3 #tson #ln six #ln mono #ln low #ln alone #ln runaway kid #ln raincoat girl #tl;dr: Mono's a crocus/forget-me-not ) Six is poppy/dandelion/bleeding hearts) Noone is poppy/chrysanthemum) Raincoat is hibiscus/carnation #tl;dr pt 2: idk what Low and Alone would be ) Runaway is periwinkle or pink/yellow water lily #hweat rambles

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navibluebees · 1 year

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I love your writing for zdog could u write one about her and reader where she falls for reader who is the new recom plz

Of course, lil anonie! Thank you for requesting. 🫶🏻 Also, this kind of skips forward for a varying amount of time between each section, I hope the format is easy to read. In my head, it takes place over a couple of months~

Please read before interacting.

Your eyes slowly blinked open, head pounding and shying away from the bright lights. Shielding your eyes a bit more with your hand, your senses picked up on the sounds in the room around you. You registered a monitor beeping quietly and focused on steadying your breath. A light flicked between your pupils, someone waving it across your face. You hissed and swung out unsteadily, fist landing in an open palm.

“Hey, hey Y/N, easy. It’s okay.” The hand wrapped around your fist squeezed gently as your eyes focused on her. She moved her hand to your shoulder and squeezed again, soothingly. "I know you're gonna feel weird, but it's all our new normal. We're in Na'vi bodies now. I'm Zdinarsk, but you can call me Z-dog."

Your brow furrowed, looking more closely at her face, analyzing the wide yellow eyes staring back at you. You swatted her hand away, holding your pounding head as you slowly sat up. Still not fully with it, you were momentarily confused by how small the humans around you were. Weakly dropping your hands to your lap, you startled at the blue stripes across them. Well. Shit.

~~~

Zdinarsk walked you to the bay you'd be staying in along with most of the other recoms. She walked quietly allowing you time to your thoughts.

"Uh, hey, sorry for swinging at you earlier. It was quite the shock.. well, I'm sure you know."

She snorted and said, "Hell yes I do. And you weren't half bad as Colonel. Wainfleet ended up with a bloody nose." You laughed together and turned the corner, walking in to be introduced to the rest of the group. You greeted everyone with a shy smile and awkward wave before you all went to your cots.

In your human life, you hadn't worked as closely with any of these soldiers, but you'd been extremely efficient with strategy and weapons skills, so you'd been brought back for a new round. You winced, rolling over on your braid, still so unfamiliar to you.

Awkwardly turning onto your side, you met eyes with Z-dog and flinched, not expecting her gaze to be so intent on you. She blew a bubble and popped it quietly, flashing a grin.

"Do you ever stop chewing gum?" you whispered.

She gave a lopsided smile back and said, "Nah, keeps me from clenching my jaw from all the stress. I used to smoke and when I quit, it became my new habit. I guess it carried over into this body, too. Want some?"

You shook your head, rolling onto your back and gently tugging your braid over your shoulder. Soon enough, you heard quiet breaths from the soldier beside you and closed your eyes, trying to calm your mind from the events of the day.

~~~

"Zdinarsk! Y/N! You're pairing for patrol," Lieutenant Wainfleet yelled across the bay.

With a groan, she sat up, whining, "I don't wannaaaa."

His eyebrow rose, unimpressed. "You have something better to do?"

She sulked, looking away, "Well, no. Ugh, FINE. Y/N. Let's go."

You hurriedly packed up your weapon and a small pack around your waist, following her from the bay and out the doors.

The patrol wasn't too bad, just walking around the base, checking all exits and keeping an eye out for anything suspicious. Z-dog chattered away and popped her gum before realizing you weren't beside her anymore. She spun, mildly panicked until she saw you standing back a bit, gawking at the machines building new facilities.

"Oh! Sorry," you called. "These things are just so insane, so much has changed since we've been gone."

She gave an understanding smile and bumped her shoulder against yours. "I get it. It's hard to feel like we've got a place in this new world. But we're soldiers. Always will be. So let's do that until something better comes along."

You nodded and turned to follow her, glancing one last time behind you, overwhelmed at the reality that life had just moved on without you in it.

~~~

That night she sat between your legs leaned back into you. You playfully shoved her forward. "If you sit too close, I can't braid properly, you goon."

"But you're so warrrmmm," she whined, leaning back again.

"Okay, fine. Braid your own hair." You stood up to step around her and she hooked an arm around your thigh. She grinned cat-like up at you, her sharp canines poking her bottom lip.

"I promise to behave. Please don't go."

With a roll of your eyes, you plopped back down onto the cot and started braiding quickly, trying to keep your fingers from trembling. You two had been stuck together ever since you'd woken up. She had helped guide you through this new life and been there for everything you experienced. Your grip slipped slightly and you caught the hair before it could come undone, accidentally squeezing too hard.

She hissed and grabbed her queue so it couldn't be pulled more. "What the hell? I said I'd behave and I am so-" She had turned around and looked up at your face in concern now. "What's going on inside that brain of yours?"

Your eyes started to tear up and you shook your head, unable to find the words to express the legion of emotions that consumed your every thought. She nodded in understanding and squeezed your knee.

"I get it. It's a lot. And that's an understatement. But you're not alone. You've got all of us, me. We'll help you." She flicked your nose, shocking you from your trance. "But you still have to braid my hair. And don't tug it again. I don't want to have to gut you." She turned back around, back straight, hiding a small smile.

~~~

The two of you were working on tracking in the forest, heads constantly on a swivel for any threats. A branch snapped and you jumped, whipping up your gun. Z-dog spun quickly, back pressing against yours, ready to protect. A hexapede called through the woods and soon you heard a small herd running away from you.

Defeated, you lowered your weapon. "Damn, I'm sorry. I feel like a child just having to relearn everything."

She patted your shoulder, comfortingly. "I brought snacks. We can sit for a while and share them if you want."

You acceded and sat with her, slumping back against a tree, shoulders pressed together. She handed you a piece of jerky and the two of you sat quietly chewing for a few minutes.

"Seriously, Z-dog. Thank you for taking care of me, sometimes I feel like such a burden on you and I just wanted you to know I'm grateful that you never treat me like that."

She turned quickly to you, grabbing your hand in hers. "You are NOT a burden. You're.. you're.."

You cocked your head, feeling defeated. She apparently didn't even know a nice way to put it. "I'm what? It's alright if you're honest. If I'm holding you back in any way I have to know. Just say it."

"I don't know what you are," she confessed.

Your nose wrinkled in confusion and your fingers twisted at the pocket of your shorts. "That's.. unhelpful."

She scoffed and groaned, putting her face in her hands. She looked back up, putting a hand on your shoulder. "That's not.. I don't have the right words. It-" Her face turned resolute as she made up her mind. She quickly leaned in and pressed her lips to yours, yours opening slightly with a gasp into her mouth.

She pulled back, a blush spreading across her face and neck. "I don't know what to call you. What you are to me. Something. You're my something. If you're cool with it."

You reached out to her, cupping her cheek in your palm, sliding your hand to the back of her neck, pulling her forward to meet you. You leaned in, lips meeting her jaw and traveling up to her mouth, whispers of a touch across her skin. She tilted her head back and you pulled her close, settling her body against yours. You were safe, hidden in your own secret place in the forest a world away from your old life.

#recom zdinarsk #recom z dog #avatar the way of water #recom avatar

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dollarstoreartsupplies · 3 months

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Hi!!! Sorry I know you reblogged that DVD fic commentary post like literally last year HOWEVER I have been going insane over your Cinderella!pete fic and (not)imaginary friend tinkly and was hoping you would like to share your thoughts? It’s fine if you don’t I just really love all of your npmd fics!

Hi Hi Hi @sanguineed!!! Sorry this took so long I have SO many thoughts and honestly i apologize if this is NOTHING i truly just infodumped about thought process for like a million words and have no clue if it's anything or even coherent hgkjdflkll

(Cinderella Pete fic link)

(Imaginary Friend fic link)

OKAY SO starting with Cinderella pete:

I’m honestly obsessed with Cinderella aus they’re my one weakness because I’m a big hurt/comfort and fairy tale loser and they are DEEP in that hurt-comfort-fairy-tale sauce, but they’re also a very fun blank slate that you can do SO MUCH WITH

So, honestly, from the second I watched NPMD and the characters burrowed their way deeply into my beautiful mind I had a really bare bones ‘day-dream-a-fic-in-my-brain’ lautski cinderella au that was nothing and I never planned on writing it and then one of the Lautski Week prompts was fairy tale and I rewatched season one of once upon a time (unrelated to the prompt list, i do that like once a year) it very rapidly because A Much More Detailed thing

I didn’t want to just do a normal step-family plot line because then that gets very weird and complicated having to really hone in on the non-existent spankoffski parents and I wanted Ted to be involved, so i just, honestly, fully yoinked Erica from princess and the pauper’s backstory and went ‘okay that works’

AND THEN back to once upon a time (in case y’all aren’t fellow ouat-heads): so in that show rumplestiltskin canonically murders cinderella’s fairy godmother and becomes her new fairy godmother (just, like, much more sinisterly) and that concept is so horrific and fascinating that it has been rotating in my brain since I was nine years old and resurfaced just in time as I was starting this fic

Because I honestly wasn’t sure if I was going to have a traditional fairy godmother at first? I was just going to have his friends help him, and then I was like OH! Miss Holloway! Of course! And then tinky slowly rose into view in the middle distance and unfortunately there was NOTHING i could do but make him the fairy godmother stand in (which, thank god, tbh idk if I would have been able to write a substantial enough plot without him there to make things Bad)

It just all worked out SO well in a way I really wasn’t expecting because Steph is a REALLY fun prince(ss) charming! Because she’s Not! Good! At! It! But thats almost entirely because she’s Not! Trying! To! Be!

It’s just very fun to show the contrast between both steph and pete having been born into their roles/titles, and how it affects them/they react to it. Steph’s got way more expectations, and her role is technically more ‘important’ but she resents a lot of the really awful parts and isn’t being supported in the way she should be so of course she’s not the best at it! And on the flip side pete is WAY overqualified for what he has to do and he KNOWS that but there's literally nothing he can do to fix it,,,,, and,,,, they’re gonna kiss,..,.,..

Ughghghh theres so much more about this fic id love to talk about but honestly all the really fun stuff is still coming so I may have to come back to this post so i dont spoil! I do have to say: pete’s about to have such a bad time and then eventually SUCH a good time!

AND THEN YES NON-IMAGINARY FRIEND TINKY!!!! MY BELOVED!!!

I’m honestly so thrilled I was actually able to pull that one into a real fic, because it was just such a fun concept that bonked around in my head for like a week and I was convinced it was gonna stay there. But it didn’t! And you all seem to enjoy it so im very glad!!

Honestly that one stems ENTIRELY from the line in the nmt Yellow Jacket where Lex says she used to be able to see Webby (i thinkkkkkk someone also made a tumblr post about the same thing that wormed it’s way into my brain but i have NOT been able to find it so if someone knows the one Im talking about plssss let me know) and i started to think about the lords in black potentially pulling a webby on their own chosen?

Because Tinky is obsessed with ted, we know this, but theres a HUGE age gap between pete and ted and i think it would be very fun for a tinky to look down at one time line’s ted, whose already eighteen-ish and at best would think he was losing his mind, and try to get to him through his not-yet-born brother,,,,, like it’s so upsetting,,,,, very fun though

I also just REALLY love writing the spankoffski brothers (i’ve got two older siblings, one of whom is significantly older than me, and sibling dynamics are some of my favorites to write) and it was really fun to explore them at the Peak of their age gap. Ted is such an interesting character; he loves his little brother but he’s also an asshole and pretty self-centered so he’s doing a lot right (answering pete’s questions, not caring what Pete wears, trying his best not to swear or upset him) but he isn’t Built for child care so he’s also ignoring pete for his tv show and prone to snap when something that (admittedly is so incredibly fucked up) upsets him gets brought up.

He’s a guy who works best in extreme situations; he’s the best at being a brother when he’s thrown into action (getting pete out of the road/forcing his parents to get pete help), but he’s not exactly a Bad brother other times,,,, he’s just a dude,,,, just a guy,,,,

I also kind of wanted to make it unclear if pete Does have low blood sugar episodes or if thats tinky all on his own, because i think playing with the Power Of Belief is a really fun thing in stories like this (can you…. tell i ran essentially an It fandom blog for like three years ghfksl)

So, to break the Pete-tinky belief timeline down (prob unnecessarily but i think it’s fun):

Pete was born and tinky has ALWAYS been there, Pete does not think this is at all weird and also has always known tinky so it would be like suddenly deciding your mom isn’t real– you wouldn’t do it, it wouldn’t even cross your mind

He’s a kid, so everyone humors him and assumes it’s an imaginary friend thing (and his parents are older and old fashioned so even if it sometimes tilted a little farther from conceivable little kid with an imaginary friend territory they’d never EVER assume or mention that it could be something a little more serious/an actual problem)

Any time his voices doubts about people thinking tinky was imaginary tinky 'very logically' explains it as pete just being special, so the only one who can see him, and, once again, he’s always seen and known tinky was there so this makes way more sense then him just NOT BEING REAL

He does something really dangerous, TED specifically forces everyone to actually figure it out, and the only conceivable thing a doctor can find is pete is diabetic, specifically prone to low blood sugar episodes, which can cause hallucinations

Pete is a Very Logical kid, and suddenly a seed of doubt has actually been planted with reasoning

Tinky knows this and Does Not Like it but as it keeps going and he keeps getting more upset and everyone keeps making a plan to deal with pete’s diabetes he’s started to get more and more convinced that tinky might not actually be real

Once he’s more convinced than he isn’t that tinky is a hallucination tinky starts to lose his hold, and once pete starts taking low blood sugar precautions he either creates a block so tinky can ONLY show up to him when his blood sugar is low OR tinky personally fucks with his blood sugar so he can be seen (like a fucked up version of lex with webby- it’s just a far more logic and fact based way of growing out of it/not being allowed to fully see him)

As he grows up he forgets just how convinced he had been that tinky was real and just generally gets used to this weird little quirk of his low blood sugar/fully dreads it

THEN pete goes into the old waylon place and because it’s the main alter for the LIB tinky regains ALL his power and then some over pete/the physical world of the house while inside

That’s where the fic gets to, and honestly probably where it’ll stay, but if i was to write more i think it would sort of waver in the opposite direction time line wise, where pete holds onto the belief that tinky isn’t real for a littttle longer than he probably should, even after he kills max and eventually as doubt really creeps in tinky starts showing up more

THEN OKAY SO the one scene I really wanted to write but couldn’t fit it in so I blended parts of it up into the end of the current fic was a little precursor summoning?

So, obviously theres the real summoning, which is SO fun in this au and I’m still praying one day I’ll get enough ideas/spoons to write it, and idk where this would fit in the show timeline, maybe where if I loved you kind of fits or right before it, but essentially:

Pete comes clean to steph, in a way that fits with all the weird supernatural fuckery going on but not fully, honestly (so she doesn’t know the full extent until post-summoning), and the two of them make a plan (that steph DOES NOT LIKE) where he’ll, like, chug some coffee and purposefully trigger a low blood sugar episode so he can see tinky and ask him questions

If i had ended up writing it that would have been when he really realizes that tinky is a real thing; he probably would have pushed it a little too hard until steph gets nervous and kind of forces him swallow a glucose tablet and he snaps out of it (and tinky goes away, but just to fuck with pete and build the tension, not because he has to now)

I hadn’t been totally able to figure out how it would work out in a timeline (Which is why it never got written) but my plan was potentially to have solomon not be the one to show them the book, but instead tinky gives pete the directions, OR, if Solomon does show it to them, pete knows uncomfortably intrinsically how to do the ritual and is almost falling exactly in step with steph’s dad to find the book and on what to do

BUT YES!! Them!!! I know this was a way more general summary kind of overview, so if there were any specific scenes or characters or anything you were interested in lmk! I would love to get into it! Thank you so so much!! There's literally NEVER a time limit on any ask prompt things i reblog im always thrilled to answer! <3<3<3

#pete spankoffski #npmd #t'noy karaxis #cinderella au

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sealrock · 3 months

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what do the emojis mean on your post?

hey anon, if you mean my blog in general I use emojis as a tagging system for my characters since it's easier to keep track of because I'm usually on the app

they're linked in my pinned post but here's a breakdown of who's who and the symbolism (or lack thereof) behind them. gonna put this under a read more since it's gonna be long:

roster emojis:

🍃 = paris. a lively leaf floating through the wind with no sense of direction. paris and hector share the same motifs as being leaves that fell off the tree and how far they've traveled

🍂 = hector. a dried up rotten leaf that stopped drifting in the wind, very fragile and brittle. it will crumble under the slightest pressure

🥀 = andromache. a wilting rose. the tatlongharis have a flower motif so I wanted to keep up that symbolism with andi being a dying rose with no water (aka emotional support)

💀 = kirke. a skull. it's kinda funny because this emoji is used in comedic situations but it represents kirke's undead state and her not truly being alive as a cloud of nanomachines. decay is a common theme for her

⚰️ = yves. a coffin and a leftover from yves' earlier characterization as an undead, or half-dead, void knight. I may end up changing this once I finalize his new lore since it doesn't fit his aesthetic anymore (less immortal aether vampire being and more psycho mantis mgs mixed with alma wade f.e.a.r.)

🎐 = tauvane. a stationary wind chime. I actually couldn't find a nice emoji for her in the beginning since the newer ones don't display correctly on web browsers (at least for me since I'm still on win10). it doesn't really fit her current lore but her and achille share weather motifs

🌻 = evander. a bright sunflower that falls in line with the tatlongharis flower theme. it represents happiness and a good life, which is the total opposite of evander's backstory and personality

🌼 = patroclus. it's a white daisy (but it looks like a yellow flower on mobile) and connects him to the tatlongharis. daisies symbolize innocence and purity, just like him

🌪️ = achille. a tornado to symbolize his turbulent emotions and now retconned weather powers. back when I started developing achille he was supposed to have sea/water motifs because tauvane was originally a pirate

romantic emojis:

💐 = hector/andromache. a bouquet of flowers that's meant to symbolize their previous relationship when everything was good and quaint

🌤️ = achille/patroclus. a sun and a cloud. patroclus is the sun (bright and warm) and achille is the tiny cloud (meant to be his hidden desires slowly becoming seen)

⛓️ = yves/kirke. a link of chains. their relationship is more violent and toxic to contrast hector and andi. they're chained together because they're drawn to each other's dark desires and impulses

platonic emojis:

🌿 = hector & paris. it's technically an herb but I see it as a plant farther along in growth compared to paris and their mom. despite their own issues, paris and hector got along well until the end

🌱 = andromache & paris. a sprout or seedling that struggles to grow. keeping with the general plant/nature theme with the tatlonghari x wormwood families, the relationship between parent and child is slow going, but there's a chance for it to bloom

🌧️ = tauvane & achille. a sad rain cloud. this is also a leftover from their previous characterizations but it seems to fit their current stages of development since tragedy is a motif shared between mother and son

🏵️ = tatlonghari family. a golden rosette that I imagine as their family crest. this is a catchall emoji for the npcs and parts of my ocs that are affiliated with the family; familial trauma is a major theme here

#inbox #anonymous #hope this helps for anyone curious!

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carolmunson · 2 years

Text

starting from zero, got nothing to lose (III)

part i part ii part iii a lil' sweet, a lil' sour -- but this chapter is sweet (and super soft) . the next one is sour (and sassy) we learn a little about where eddie is living, his favorite roommate, and a lil more about our bar gang.

power outage reference is to the big power outage that happened in the bronx december 30th, 1989. if you want to know more you can read about it here -- but you never know if this might come back later in the game. ;) cw: eddie munson x ofc, mention of AIDs and the AIDs crisis, mild violence

January 5th, 1990 Greenpoint, Brooklyn

The sun was down when Eddie stumbled into his apartment the following week, two grocery bags filled to the brim sagged in his arms.

“Dose?” he called out into the dark apartment, hip checking the door closed behind him. He used his elbow to click the light on in the hallway, shuffling to the kitchen to drop the bags.

“Dosia?” he called out, a little more concerned. He stepped back into the hallway, chains and keys clinking onto each other with each step. He turned the corner into the living room, the TV was on, but no one was on the couch. He leaned a ringed hand on the door frame of a bedroom at the end of the hall, his own across from it. The side table lamp cast a yellowed glow through the room, but no sign of –

“Excuse me, mój drogi.”

“O mój Boże!” Eddie jumped and held his hand to his chest, “Dosia, sweetheart, Halloween is over, you can’t keep doing this to me.”

A very short, very old woman, with box dyed dark auburn hair chuckled below him, “Ah, but it is so funny to watch you jump!”

“I don’t know how you do it, you get me every time,” he said, following her back to the kitchen.

“Well, you know, I have a few years on you, you learn some things,” she put her glasses on and started taking the groceries out of the bags, “Your Polish is getting better.”

“Just that one saying,” he leaned up against the wall, crossing his arms a little pink rose in his cheeks. Dosia shrugged, putting some of the produce in the fridge.

“Are you staying for dinner?” she asked.

“I wish,” he said, “I’m going back into the city. Made some new friends.”

“Gratulacje, dear.”

“I’ll take the trash out when I leave,” Eddie turned down the hall to his bedroom, “Don’t get into any trouble while I’m gone, Dose.”

Had you told Eddie in 1986 that he’d live in Greenpoint with an elderly Polish woman in three years, he would have laughed at you. But also, if you told him in 1985 that he would end up in an alternate dimension, shredding guitar, and almost getting eaten to death by demobats he also would have laughed at you. So, maybe ending up in Greenpoint wasn’t so outlandish in comparison.

When Eddie was looking for apartments and for Help Wanted ads in the paper for work, he came across Dosia. Just an old woman looking for help after her son moved to New Jersey when he got married, discounted rent, and homemade Polish food pretty regularly. Not a bad deal, all things considered. What he liked about Dosia is that the first time she saw him, she wasn’t afraid. All she said was, “Please do not play your music during my shows, they are very important to me, thank you.”

They became fast friends. In good weather they’d play cards on the stoop, go on walks, or go sit in a park and feed birds. She didn’t make a sour face when he’d practice guitar, she’d just nod and smile (and sometimes if she was very into it, she’d clap). Dosia called him her second son, and honestly, it was the most love he’d felt in years. He didn’t mind running errands for her or taking her to appointments. He liked caring for someone, and god did she like caring for him.

His first Christmas with her was the first Christmas since he was a kid that he even got a present. Her son helped her find it, and it was so simple, but even just thinking that he might need a guitar repair kit made him tear up. (And the orange sweater he’d never wear but kept folded in the top drawer of his dresser to make her happy.)

“You wear too much black, you have autumn features mój drogi, wear something different,” she begged him. But even still, she offered to bring it to someone to get it dyed if he really wanted her to. Eddie wouldn’t dream of it.

He closed his bedroom door behind him, hearing Dose hum to herself while she got to work in the kitchen. It was…neat- ish. The room was a little bigger than his bedroom in Wayne’s trailer, with a small closet. It was decorated with much of the same, posters littered the walls, stacks of Heavy Metal Magazine on his bedside table. Miss Kitty and her little sister Lucy, a black and white Charvel he bought for himself for his birthday, were displayed proudly on the wall above his bed.

He gave himself a once over in the mirror in the corner, and normally he wouldn’t care but he felt compelled to look good at Skid tonight. Eddie kicked off his Reeboks and slid into a pair of beat up Docs he stole from the locker rooms at Gleason’s. He figured if one of the guys left them there, they probably didn’t care too much about them. He pulled off his jacket and shirt, rummaged through his drawers for something clean and wrenched out an old Motorhead tee. Once he put everything back on, he looked back in the mirror and shook out his hair.

“Whatever, it’ll do,” he said to his reflection. Eddie reached to the top of his dresser and gave himself a spritz of the nearly empty Drakkar Noir bottle sitting on the edge of it, another Gleason’s lost and found exclusive. He grabbed his leather satchel and hurried to the kitchen, gave Dosia a kiss on the cheek took out the trash (which he almost forgot), and headed to the train to make it back to the city.

Eddie arrived at Skid with a bang, Tony was wailing on a guy outside while Rhonda pulled another man out the door by the belt loops. From the looks of this guy's face, he definitely was on the receiving end of one of her mean upper cuts. After a final punch, Tony got up and greeted Eddie with a warm smile.

“How’s it goin’ man? Happy New Year!” he said, putting a hulking arm around him and guiding him inside. Ed looked over his shoulder and watched Ron throw the other guy onto the sidewalk and kick him hard in the side.

“You can’t just leave her out there,” Eddie said looking back at Rhonda while they went through the door.

“I am never worried about Rhonda kicking someone’s ass,” he said, getting behind the bar, he gestured to one of the open stools for Ed to sit at, “Especially not some fuckin’ Nazi.”

He nodded at Tony and took a seat. The bar was fairly empty aside from a couple of guys and their guitars over in the corner he sat at last week.

“You get guys like that in here a lot?” he asked, his eyes flitting to the door hearing Rhonda’s muffled shouts.

“They’re normally from out of town, think it's some punk bar that lets guys like that in. Hate when it happens so close to opening though, fucks up the whole night's energy,” Tone explained, “When Ron’s here I let her take care of it, helps get her rage out.”

Eddie let out a small snicker, his attention snapping to the door as it opened and Rhonda stomping inside. She looked him over, red lips parting and then closing while she did, and her eyes fell on his boots.

“Hey, clown,” she said flatly, and got behind the bar, washing her hands in one of the small sinks at the end. Eddie wished he never changed his shoes, “Where were you this week?”

“Did you miss me?” he asked, resting his chin in his hands and tilting his head to the side.

She rolled her eyes, “You come in on a busy Friday night, mess up my flow, get me in trouble, and you want to know if I missed you?”

“I already know,” he said with a smile, “Tony told me at the gym that you asked where I was on New Year’s Eve.” And I literally haven’t stopped thinking about that conversation since then, he thought to himself.

“So I could avoid you,” she said.

“Sure,” he smirked, “No, after that big power outage on Saturday it was kind of hard getting in and out of Brooklyn so I just stayed over there until things got worked out.”

“Oh, yeah that was a shitty night,” she recalled, “We couldn’t even open. Can I get you a beer or something?”

“Could I actually…get a martini?” he asked, “Dirty.”

“How dirty do you like it?” Rhonda asked while reaching for a bottle of Tanqueray.

“Filthy,” he replied. She got to work in front of him, still wearing her battle vest but swapped the jeans for disco pants. He let his eyes linger on her when she turned around to grab something else, the way she filled those pants out was a crime.

“I didn’t miss you,” she put the glass in front of him, “Pretty let down I didn’t scare you away though, I’m pretty good at getting creeps out of the bar.”

“I saw,” he said, taking a sip of his drink, “Why don’t you ever come to Gleason’s and train?”

“Tony goes to Gleason’s to train, and look at girls, and see you,” she said, “I don’t go to Gleason’s because I have better things to do than watch losers with 'roid rage pretend to fight. My girlfriend Hannah goes there though, on Tuesdays and Thursdays. You know her? Hannah Lester?”

Eddie choked on his martini, he knew Hannah Lester very well.

“Nope, doesn’t ring a bell,” he lied, looking into his drink.

“Hm,” she gave him a semi-suspicious look but shook it off quickly, “So what did you do on New Years?”

“Worked,” he said, “Rang things in with my roommate and uh, then went out to a bar nearby. Welcome to the Nineties, I guess. I take it you worked too?”

“I didn’t, actually,” she said, “I came here after but I spent some time at Roosevelt. Lot of those patients don’t have anyone doing holidays with them, so I wanted to help put something together.”

“What patients?” he asked.

“Oh, Roosevelt hospital, in the AIDs ward,” she said while wiping down glasses in the sink, not making eye contact with him, “I’m not a nurse or anything, I just volunteer there on my days off and in the mornings when I can. Like, being a candy striper but for emotional support and ice water.”

There was a moment of silence and Eddie could tell she seemed nervous, “I think that’s really cool.”

Relief poured over her body at the affirmation, “Thanks for saying that, after the whole ‘Stop the Church’ stuff at St. Patrick's, everyone's been kind of on edge.”

“I don’t think you’re running into a lot of Catholics here,” he muttered while taking another sip of his drink, “But – if it makes you feel better talking to me about it, the last time I got arrested was at the Wall Street rally.”

Rhonda broke out in a smile and met his stare, “Me too.”

“Cheers to that,” he said, raising his glass to her, “Tony was right, you are a bleeding heart.”

“Tone never knows what he’s talking about,” Rhonda retorted, “Like, ever.”

“I’m like, four feet away from you Ron,” Tony said on the other end of the bar, “If you’re gonna say some wrong and dumb shit, at least do it quietly.”

Rhonda laughed and leaned on the bar on her forearms like how she did the first time they talked.

“Tone never knows what he’s talking about,” she whispered.

“I think he does, and you’re only actually mean and scary at the bar,” Eddie whispered back, giving her a knowing look from under his bangs.

“I think, if you wanna stay another minute at Skid, you’ll stop agreeing with Tony before I knock all your teeth out of your mouth,” she whispered again. She stood back up and returned to drying off glasses, back to her regular tone “And they’re good teeth, too.”

He put a hand to his heart, “A threat and a compliment? You’re really going soft on us. Do you want me to go find that guy from outside?" Eddie gestured to the door with his thumb, "You can tell him how much you liked his jacket.”

“Tone, when can I finally kick this clown out of here?” she asked over her shoulder.

“Oh c’mon, Ron,” Tony teased, “You were just asking where he was last week!”

#EDDIE MUNSON SMUT #EDDIE MUNSON FAN FICTION #EDDIE MUNSON FANFICTION #EDDIE MUNSON AU #EDDIE MUNSON X OFC #EDDIE MUNSON FLUFF #EDDIE MUNSON ANGST #EDDIE MUNSON #STRANGER THINGS AU #EDDIE MUNSON FIX IT FIC #EDDIE MUNSON FIX IT #STRANGER THINGS FAN FICTION #STRANGER THINGS FANFICTION #EDDIE MUNSON X READER #EDDIE MUNSON X YOU

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angry-trashcan · 8 months

Text

Constellations

The chain meets wild, but it’s not wild it’s sage Part 3: Electric boogaloo

A story about Ceres and Aaliyah meeting and slow burning together until they kiss. Written in collaboration with @neverchecking

Warnings: Sage

4.3 K WC (First)

Akkala wasn’t far. Well, Aaliyah wouldn’t say it was far. But Aaliyah would also say the distance from here to Rito was a leisurely stroll. So, who was she to be the best judge of distance? Or character for that matter. Rolling her eyes, she blatantly ignored the battle cries ringing out from behind her. Link, or Sage as he had been dubbed for convenience sake, had been nothing but a buzzing pile of nerves since last night, when they had hummed and hawed over a game plan. What to do with the new traveling partners, what route actually was the most efficient, and how to lose them in the depths should the need arise. It was needlessly paranoid thinking, but it kept him level enough he wouldn’t commit arson right off the bat, so she counted that as a win.

“Should we-...Should we stop them?” A timid voice called behind her, making her loll her head to the side. Her eyes went from Ceres, then to Sage, who was yanking at Twilight’s hair from where he was perched on his shoulders while the cowboy tried throwing him off. It was almost comparable to bucking bronco really. She was almost impressed. She sucked in a breath then grinned. “No.”

Ceres took a deep breath, eyes never leaving the two…boys fighting. “What are they even going at it over?”

Aaliyah shrugged, “Something about the last egg for breakfast.” Ceres rolled her eyes, not knowing how to stop the fighting themself, so opting to sit back on the ground. She patted the spot next to her.

“May as well sit if we are gonna be wasting time.” Aaliyah looked down at them, then the spot next to them.

“Yeah, I suppose.” Aaliyah turned and made her way to them, sitting with her knees up and hands back as she watched the fight drag on.

“Who do you think is gonna win?”

Aaliyah laughed at that question, watching on as Sage was flipped off of Twilight’s shoulders onto his back. “My money is on them knocking each other out at the same time.”

Ceres snickered, “My money’s on Sage.” They extended their hand to Aaliyah, who shook it firmly.

“You got yourself a deal, Doll.” They watched and waited for a few minutes longer, Sage biting any bit of arm or leg or, hell, even stomach he could get at. Twilight pulling on Sage’s long hair in an effort to get him to stop gnawing at him. Twilight eventually was able to pull him up to eyelevel. Which then they both promptly head bashed each other. They both fell back in opposite directions, hitting the ground hard.

“I guess you win.” Ceres sighed.

“Do I?” Aaliyah smirked, one ear flopping in an act of sarcastic glee. There was no mirth in her eyes, simply attuned amusement. “Guess I get a prize, don’t I?”

Ceres did not like that look in her eyes. It made their stomach feel funny. And what good was that? She swallowed. “...Anything in particular you want?”

Aaliyah’s cheeks dusted a musty rose color, something apparently foreign to the Sheikah as she seemed taken aback. “Well, shit- if you’re offering I got a few ideas.” She laughed, head tossed back in a laugh. Something in her voice tinged with an accent she was unfamiliar with. It was nice. Ceres flushed and Aaliyah laughed even harder. She was a bit of a cunt, but apparently Ceres was into that. “Young larrikins like you are so easy to tease.”

“What did you just call me-”

“Down girl.” Aaliyah settled, shaking her head a bit. “Larrikin. It means you're young. Rowdy. But, ya have a good heart.” She looked at the boys, then shook her head. “We’re gonna get caught with our heads up our asses at this rate. I say we leave ‘em to fend for themselves.”

“No!”

“Worth a shot.” Aaliyah groaned, pulling out a tablet. She scrolled along the screen for a second before pulling out a yellow bulb like fruit. “Wanna see something fun?” Her grin turned devious and before Ceres could say anything, a shower of sparks lit up the area along with some yelps of pain.

“Aaliyah!” Ceres scolded, starting to make their way to help Twilight before realizing they couldn’t. Both of the men jumped to their feet, yelping and leaping away from one another and the yellow bulb between them.

“Aaliayh!” Sage screeched out, holding onto his back as he staggered over to the girls. “You can’t just fuckin’ shock us like that!”

Aaliyah crossed her arms over her chest, “You two knuckleheads are the ones who knocked each other out!”

“And you are the one who just shocked us with a fucking volt fruit!”

“Whatever, you’re fine, crybaby.”

Sage looked as though smoke was coming out of his ears, but it was truly just his slightly fried ends sending the smoke into the air. Twilight finally snapped out of his shock long enough to follow Sage over. “That was kinda rude, doncha think?”

“You shut the hell up, Mutt. She can do as she fuckin’ pleases.” Sage hissed out, taking another step towards Twilight.

“Okay.” Ceres stepped between them before they could beat each other senseless. “This, has to stop. Now. Y’all are being ridiculous right now. If you need to hug and kiss to make up, do it now.” Ceres moved out from between them, motioning with their hands to do something. Both men grumbled before stepping towards each other and shaking hands, a bit too aggressively.

“How did you do that?” Aaliyah whispered, eyes wide watching the scene in front of her.

There was a moment of silence before the Sheikah quickly added. “That was hot. Maybe we should kiss and make out sometime-”

“Aaliyah!” Came the indignant, scandalized shout. “Not in front of the boys, they might get jealous-”

This made the woman perk-up, “Say the word and they are gone-”

Sage turned around in exasperation. “I fight for your honor and this is the thanks I get?”

Aaliyah blinked for a second before shrugging. “I mean I can suck your dic-”

“OKAY-” Ceres quickly cut her off. “How far did you guys say Akkala was? Maybe one of the others already dropped there-”

Before Ceres could say anything more, the same sound from before warbled out. All eyes looked to the sky. There was another one of those damned portals, angry and red and glitching out around the edges. It was facing downwards towards them which could, really only mean good things. Ceres stepped to the closest person near them. Which happened to be the Sheikah- How was she always right next to her? The woman hummed, holding out an arm for Ceres to hook hers into. Well, she wasn’t gonna complain now that was for sure.

“Think something fun is gonna come out this time?” Aaliyah mused, her free hand resting on the hilt of her sword. “Or are we getting another cowboy?”

“Jokes on ya. There’s only one of me.” Twilight scoffed, his own weapon being drawn.

Sage huffed, sending Twilight a warning glare. His mouth opened only for something to fall right on top of him. There was a series of groans at the action as the blond fell like a sack of bricks. Yet another blond on top of him.

“I’m betting twenty rupees that guy’s name is also Link.” Aaliyah blurted.

“I am not taking that bet, because I already know it is.” Ceres added, looking between Aaliyah and the pile of flailing arms and legs on the ground. “Welcome to paradise, Legend.”

“Excuse me?” Sage stood closer to Legend.

“Legend? What kind of stuck up pretentious name is that?” The Sheikah laughed, shaking her head. The legs finally fell to the ground, rising to their feet as they glared at each other.

“It’s my name, fucking thank you.” Legend hissed out, shooting a glare at the Sheikah.

Legend looked up at his face, close enough to feel the others heat radiating off of him. “Did I fucking stutter?”

Ceres sighed, rolling her eyes. “Can all of you knock it off for fuck’s sake?!”

Legend finally took note of his surroundings at Ceres’s voice, releasing Sage’s shirt from his fist and making his way to her. “Squirrel? You’re here too?”

“Squirrel-” Aaliyah snapped at Sage before he could finish that, grabbing his arm and pulled him away from the growing scene. He grumbled his whole way out of the clearing.

“I’m so glad you’re here! We all got separated in the portal.” Legend grabbed her hands in both of his.

“I’m here too. Things are a bit rough right now.” Twilight spoke up, coming up behind Legend.

“Did I fucking ask?”

“Look, just ‘cause ya got into a fight with Sage don’t mean you gotta be fightin’ me too.” Twilight put his hands in the air.

“You have been in a nonstop constant fight with other Sage since you showed up, Twi.” Ceres rolled her eyes, again.

“That ain’t mean he’s gotta be goin’ at it too.” Twilight turned and went a bit away so Legend and Ceres could speak.

Legend shook his head. If nothing else, the cowboy had enough emotional intelligence to know when to give someone space. Even if his regular I.Q. was fighting for its life. “I cannot explain how much a relief it is to see you.” He hummed, reached a hand to cup her jaw. She leaned into, forehead falling to rest on his. “You’re telling me.”

He hummed softly, relishing in the feeling of her. The warmth she provided and the light she carried so naturally. “So…Who were the other two?”

Ceres blinked before her eyes snapped wide open. “Shit-” She paused before giving a heavy exhale. “This is their world they’re…probably fine. Those were Aaliyah and Sage…Well, her Sage. Not ours. Acts the same though.” She huffed. “Aaliyah seems okay though…Maybe a little more than okay. She’s been helpful…” Was the loosest term she could use. Who knew if the Sheikah could still hear her? That was not a risk she was willing to take.

“They’re willing to help us-”

“They helped enough. They brought you back to me-us. We don’t need their half-assed help any more.” Legend hissed with another shake of his head. “This Sage and whatever else fucking versions of him there are can go fuck right off.”

“They’re trying to help us, Legend.” They tightened the grip she had on his hands. “I’ve been with them for three days now and everything has been perfectly fine. We wouldn’t have found you without their help.”

“They’re probably just making you comfortable before they take you out, Ceres.”

“Why would they want to take me out?! I haven’t done anything to them, they don’t even know who I am.”

Legend sighed, “Why don’t you trust me on this?”

“You really want to talk to me about trust?” They pulled their hands from his, letting them hang at her sides. “You really have a great track record with that.”

“Ceres-”

“No, these people were kind enough to take me in, feed me, help me. And you are saying all of these things when they can probably hear us. Do you know your way around Wild- Sage’s Hyrule?” When she didn’t get a response, she continued, “Yeah. That’s what I thought. Just accept the help.” She backed away from him, looking at the ground before making her way to join Twilight. Who was definitely pretending to not be listening.

He let out a low whistle once they got close enough. “Feeling okay?”

Ceres groaned. “Yes. No. I don’t know. Maybe when we get moving I’ll cool down.”

Twilight simply nodded, gently brushing back their bangs to press a kiss to their forehead. “It’s a stressful time right now, darling. We’re all on edge. Whether you wanna admit or not, those two probably aren’t helping things-”

“Not you too-”

“Not because they’re two halves of a whole twisted joke from Hylia. But because they’re new. And Legend doesn’t do well with new. Makes him kinda…bitchy.” Twilight cocked a grin. Ceres huffed again. Was that the word they were using now?

Shaking her head she gently pressed a kiss to Twilight’s chin before moving along. Aaliyah had dragged Sage this way and she knew if they didn’t start moving they’d be caught in the dark. Legend was already struggling with these two and she didn’t wanna strain whatever possible relationship was there by making him trust them on nightly watch.

True to her intuition, there was the Sheikah and Sage. He was sitting on the ground, holding her in his lap with his head on her chest. His ear was laid just under her collarbone, eyes closed as she ran careful fingers through his hair. Her own eyes were closed as she leaned her chin on his head.

Her ears twitched in recognition of the footsteps nearing, reassuring Ceres that she wouldn’t get stabbed. Which was nice. She preferred their body in one piece.

Yellow eyes peaked open as Aaliyah watched Ceres inch close before pressing a kiss to the blond locks. “I love you, but you gotta get up now.”

Sage groaned, eyes scrunching before he stood, Sheikah still held securely in his arms. “There ‘m up. Less’go.”

Ceres smiled lightly at the sight before turning her back to them, letting them have the last bit of their moment. “I’m sorry for all of… that. I know it wasn’t pretty to listen to.”

Aaliyah shrugged them off, still holding onto Sage. She planted a small kiss to his forehead before pulling away from him with a groan of protest. “It certainly wasn’t. Are you alright?”

Ceres was taken aback by the sudden worry for their wellbeing. “I- uh-”

Aaliyah walked passed them before she could respond. “Since you are, lets get a move on. We need to hurry to make it before dark.” They nodded, following behind her and infront of Sage. Legend and Twilight stood together in the middle of the clearing.

“We all set ‘n ready to go?” Twilight attached himself to Ceres’s side before they could wander off with the Sheikah.

Aaliyah nodded, “After that little fiasco, it’s time to get going.” Sage made his way to Aaliyah’s side, settling into their rhythm of quiet or wordless communication. Legend fell into place behind the group, claiming he was ‘keeping watch of the weak spot’ but they all knew he was just paranoid.

<><><><>

Eldin was next, with its spits of fire and lava, and the Gorons mining away. It was rhythmic and steady, something trained through years of hard work. Aaliyah and Sage lead the way effortlessly, almost as if they had been born and raised in these looping roads. Minecarts rattled above them, dropping bits of coal with every harsh turn.

“-We can drop them off at Rollin’ Inn and go check out the mines-”

“-Are you kidding? And leave them with what? A packet of rocks and a stick and hope that keeps them entertained?”

Sage shrugged, a dumb smirk plastered on his even dumber face. “There’s three of them there, surely they can find ways to entertain themselves either with each other or-”

“And I’m cutting the train of thought off right there.” Aaliyah scoffs, pushing his face away with a barely concealed grin. He chuckled at the action before catching her hand and using it to pull her closer. “It’s like free babysitting!”

“Uhm…” A small voice called out for a second, making both turn. Ceres was watching them intently, eyes darting between them. “What’s next?”

They exchanged a silent look for a second, Sage shrugging while Aaliyah sighed. “Look, if one of your friends is gonna be here, they’re gonna be down in the old Rock Roast mines. But you guys don’t have the equipment to go down there and we don’t have the patience to get you all your own. So, you’re gonna stay back here while we go look-”

Bailey’s turn :D bitch boy

“But I don’t want to stay. I want to go searching with you two.” They let their shoulders slump forward. “They won’t know who you two are, I or one of us should go with.”

Sage shook his head, “No, they will know me. So that’s fine.”

Ceres practically stomped their foot, “Please? I won’t get in the way.”

Aalyiah would have considered the act childish, if not a bit cute in a way, if she was not trying to put herself in explicit danger. “Ceres, we said no. That’s final.” She walked past her into the inn. Explaining that they needed rooms for the group.

Legend came up next to them, “I hate to admit that she’s right, but she’s right. We should stay here and work on a plan.”

“A plan for what, Legend?” Ceres shot back, not even giving him a glance in his direction. “Gonna kill them too?”

“Are you- Ceres.” Twilight grabbed Legend’s shoulder, as Ceres walked up to the desk to join Aaliyah. “Stay out of this, rancher.”

“Kinda hard to when ya got the attention of the whole inn.” He released the others shoulder, “We really have been alrigh’ even before ya got here, Vet. Things are alrigh’.”

Legend smacked his lips, “Something is off.”

“Ya always think somethin’ off.” He rolled his eyes. “But the only thing that’s off was the portal behavin’ all cattywampus.”

Legend gave him a look for the langue but nothing else, instead taking the room key from Aaliyahs hand before she could give it to him and heading down the hall.

“He’s a pleasant one.” She spoke up, shoving the other key into her pocket.

“We’ll be back before too long, before nightfall at the very least. The inn will provide you with cookware and a fire, but other than that you’re on your own.” The Sheikah shook her head, reaching for her tablet. In a flash an assortment of ingredients popped out, to which were handed to the rancher. “I’m sure you have some level of basic cooking skills? These will get you through the day before we return.”

Aaliyah paused for a second, brows furrowing before she was scratching the back of her neck and replacing her tablet on her hip, instead digging into a satchel on her hip. She hesitated for a second before grabbing one of Ceres’ hands and holding it between her own. Her ears lowered and flickered for a second, piercings clinking together before Aaliyah was dropping smooth and thin into her hands. “I-...I know this whole situation has put you in a weird position. And I know that while you may not like it, you staying here is for your safety above all else. I know what's down there and how to handle it, but you do not.” Ceres opened her mouth to protest before Aaliyah shook her head. “Besides the point. This, right here, is a travel medallion. If you desperately need us, throw it to the ground and it’ll alert us that it has been placed. We- I’ll be there within seconds.”

Ceres swallowed before Aaliyah was dropping her hands and turning to Sage, who had just finished handing over a handful of rupees. The Sheikah waved at the brunette, who clutched her closed fist to her chest, giving a shy and slow wave at the other’s retreating form. The disk felt cool to the touch in her hands.

“Okay. I will.” Was all that they could get out as the couple walked towards the center of town. Twilight draped his arm over her shoulders.

“Lets go find the room, yeah?” She nodded, following with him down the hall. Legend had, conveniently, left the door open for them to find him. In the middle of the room was one oversized bed. It made sense with them being among the Gorons. She sat at the end of it, feet swinging awkwardly at the tension in the room.

“Look, I know we’re all stressed right now, but bein’ like this ain’t gonna fix nothin’.” Twilight waved his hands between the two of them.

“He’s on his shit, Twi. I’m not gonna deal with it right now. That’s a tomorrow problem.” Ceres leaned down to unlace her boots.

“Oh, so I’m a problem now?” Legend’s venomous words shot in her direction.

She sat back up, loose laces falling around boots. “When you show up and problems immediately start? Yeah! You’re causing problems!”

Twilight sighed, getting onto one knee and taking their boots into his hands. She looked down at him for a moment before turning their head back to Legend.

“I’m tired of this, Legend. We shouldn’t be arguing like this, not with everyone missing.”

“You’re the one starting fights!” He exploded, standing from his chair so fast that it fell to the ground behind him.

Ceres flinched backwards at the yelling and metal hitting the stone ground. Twilight rubbed her knee lightly before pulling the boot off and putting it next to him.

“Legend, lower your voice. Ya know better than that.” Twilight barely looked up to the shorter man before starting on the other boot.

“You know that this fighting isn’t necessary.” He said in a quieter, but none the less aggressive tone.

“Actually I think it’s well warnented. We never resolved all of that.”

Legend flinched back for a second before rubbing his hands along the bridge of his nose and scrubbing his face up and down. “Look, Ceres, you have to understand. I did it to protect you. Everything I ever do is for you.” His hands flew out in a wild gesture. “I would never purposefully do anything to upset you-”

“But it did. And you knew it would.” They shot back. Somewhere in the back of their mind, the reminder of the medallion rang out. She shook her head. “...What is it against them that you have issues with? They haven’t done anything to you.”

Legend’s face turned pleading. “What have they done for you for you to be so on their side? You’ve seen how Sage acts. You’ve seen what he’s capable of-”

“This isn’t him!” Ceres snapped suddenly. Suddenly enough even Twilight stopped from his place knelt before her. Her hands fiddled in front of her, toying with the silvery blue gift. Yes, they shared the same voice and face and ideologies. But they weren’t the same. Ceres knew this almost intimately so. There was one glaring difference with this Sage and her own. “He’s not…like our Sage. He has something he’s fighting for. Something he’s put his faith in and it hasn’t immediately been spat on. He has…He has his person.” Like Sun was to Sky, or Ravio to Legend, this Sage had found his counterpart- no, his soulmate and was someone entirely different yet intimately familiar all the same.

Silence fell around them for a second before Ceres continued.

“You should see the way she looks at her. Like she’s the stars, sun and moon all in one. Like the goddesses themselves put her here just for him and he’s going to make sure there’s not a second that goes by where he doesn’t think that. The way he holds her is just so-...It’s not like our Sage at all.” Ceres huffed at last, a pout on their lips. “Like how you or Twilight or Hyrule hold me at night, or the way Wild watches me like I’ll disappear. Or how Wars and Sky treat me like glass because to them, I’m irreplaceable-”

“You are.” Legend choked out.

“But that’s just it. This Sage won’t do anything because we’re just as dangerous to him as he is to us. Only in a completely different way. He doesn’t care what happens to himself, as long as she remains safe. And we pose a threat to her the entire time we’re here.” Ceres patted the spot next to her as Twilight took the other side. Legend slowly crept over to it, leaning his shoulder on her once he was close enough. She hummed, running a hand along his thigh. “They mean you no harm as long as you bring none. This Sage’s priorities are different. Give him a bit of slack, yeah?”

Legend didn’t say anything, instead reaching up to squeeze her hand. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Legend.”

The cold medal medallion grew warmer in her hand as she turned it over.

<><><><><><><>

“We should just ditch them.” Sage put his hands behind his head as they walked into the mine.

Aaliyah hit the back of his head, “We are not doing that.” He groaned.

“But why?! They have not one, but two Links to help her now. Why can’t we just go home?!

Aaliyah shot him a look as she lit her torch. “Would you just leave me to fend for myself?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” He stopped in his tracks and watched her walk ahead a few more before turning to face him. “You know I wouldn’t do that to you, snowdrop.”

“Then keep walking.” She went back tracing the walls with her free hand as they made their way deeper into the cave.

“Do you really think someone is down here?”

“Only one way to find out.” She grumbled as they entered a larger room. “Hello?” She asked out in a quiet tone.

“HELLO?! ANYONE HERE?!” Sage cupped his hands over his mouth as he shouted.

Aaliyah hit him again, “Be quiet, idiot! You may cause a cave in!”

“You weren’t saying that last time we were here and you were throwing bombs around like candy.”

“And you weren’t letting up with your loud ass last time either.”

“As I remeber it, you were the one screaming my name.”

“Enough.” She hissed out, turning the torch to the middle of the room.

Just as he went to retort, their ears flickered at the sounds of steps behind them.

#aaliyah <3 #Ceres <3 #linked universe #lu #lu OC #Linked universe oc #linked universe x oc #linked universe fanfic #lu sage #look how cute they are <33 #one day they will smooch

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