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drwcn · 3 years

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#9 【Carbon in the Steel】

cql au: everyone is an orphan except wwx; dark!twin jades

The Brothers Lan

There was once a little house, on the outskirts of a farming village beyond the tiered rice fields south of Meishan, far, far away from Cloud Recesses. Both Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji remembered that house. It was the house Father had built for Mother, and it was there that they were born.

It sat at the base of a hill where many tall bamboo trees grew, and in the garden, there had been gentians, indigo and violet, that bloomed beautifully every summer.

Lan Xichen would dream sometimes of that house and of the wonderful days in those early years.

Father, look!

Excellent form, A-Huan. Very good. Much improved. Now, remember to keep your balance on your front…

These days he could no longer recall Father’s face. His voice though, Lan Xichen still remembered as clear as a bell. On the other hand, his brother Wangji did not remember much of Father at all; instead, it was Mother’s smile that he could never forget.

Mother, can A-Zhan and I stay with you and Father tonight?

P’ease, Mo’her.

Lan Xichen remembered hugging his baby brother like a doll and strategically weakening his parents’ resolve using his baby pout and big puppy eyes. A-Zhan was always a trooper, so cooperative, so excellent at looking like a perfect toddler. Stoic though. So stoic for a baby. What a weird kid.

We had a bad dream.

Bad dweam.

Those were obviously lies. They never had bad dreams then; those would come much later, when their reality became worse than any nightmare they could ever imagine.

Jiujiu never needed to tell them that Mother and Father were dead, or what death was. They’d seen plenty of creatures die: the village’s cattle they butchered for the new year, the spinster's kittens that didn’t survive the winter, and the pheasants they caught and roasted for A-Zhan’s birthday.

Father had been a lifelong vegetarian, so eating meat didn’t agree with his stomach, but he never enforced such rules on his sons. In fact Father didn’t enforce any rules on his sons, except to show kindness where they could and to be true to their hearts.

Father probably didn’t anticipate just how difficult it was to be kind when the world had been so wholly unkind. Nor did he anticipate that he would die in such a violent and sudden manner without even so much as a goodbye.

I don’t remember what were the last words Father said to me. Wangji would confess to Xichen one day. I don’t even remember what Father looked like.

They were by the marsh catching lobsters with jiujiu when it happened. Mother suddenly appeared and spoke words that were foreign and frightening - Gusu Lan, cultivators, siege, pursuit, escape. Go. Now. She didn’t hug them or kiss them. Lan Xichen remembered Wangji reaching up towards her to be picked up and the confusion and heartbreak in his eyes when she pushed him back into jiujiu’s waiting arms.

A-niang...

At a certain point, jiujiu must’ve done something to them, because neither Wangji nor himself remember any part of their journey out of that village. When they woke up, they were somewhere high up and deep in the mountains. His little brother had looked at him and he had stared back and they both knew then that their parents were dead. Curled in their jiujiu’s arms, they cried themselves into another fitful sleep, and all the while, jiujiu didn’t wake up once, too exhausted by the endless days of travel.

To them, jiujiu - like all adults - was old, but it was not until they grew up that they realized that Zhao Zhuliu at the time of their parents’ demise had been no more than twenty years old, barely more than a boy himself.

Life with jiujiu was quiet, but after some time, they were able to find a sliver of happiness.

Zhao Zhuliu was a quiet man, always had been, and that didn’t change just because he now had two young children on his hands. But he loved them, his sister’s only blood left on this earth; by god, he loved them beyond reason.

Jiujiu was not a talker, but he was never distant, and though he was strict in his training of their cultivation and their swordsmanship, he was never harsh. So yes, life was quiet, but at least for a while there was a roof over their heads and food in their belly, and they never had to wonder where they would be tomorrow…

When jiujiu failed to return from his night-hunt, Lan Xichen knew that something had gone terribly wrong.

Lan Xichen was the older one; he was thirteen. Practically an adult, he told himself. If jiujiu never came back, then he was just going to have to take care of Wangji.

Whatever it takes.

His brother was not a needy child, but when he turned eleven, he seemed to have found his appetite and ate everything Xichen could get his hands on. Fishing was the easiest and hunting a big game lasted them a while if he could preserve it just right, but even if he collected berries in the mountains and wild herbs in the forest, he still needed grains, still needed new clothes for the winter, and still needed oil to light a lamp at night so Wangji could continue to practice his calligraphy.

He did try; you must know. Lan Xichen did try to do things the right way, but there was only so much money he could earn by book-keeping at a shop, or running errands for merchants, or even waiting tables at an inn. He was a child, and desperate, and nobody would pay him a dime if they could get away with a nickel.

It didn’t take long for Xichen to learn that the fastest way of earning money was often the most unsavoury and that he wasn’t above reaching for those means. There were no lengths Lan Xichen wouldn’t go to keep his brother safe and happy, no asset within his arsenal of skills and attributes that he wouldn’t hone and weaponize to make himself stronger. He got good at stealing, got great at cheating, and grew accustomed to killing. Every so often...if there were other offers available, well...Wangji would never need to know.

Morals do not matter if Wangji went hungry. I can’t let Wangji go hungry.

And, once a year, Lan Xichen would buy a box of osmanthus pastry, like the kind Mother used to make for them - flakey and fragrant, rich but not overwhelming - and he and Wangji would sit together under the stars and finish the box all in one go.

“Happy birthday, didi.”

Chewing slowly on the osmanthus pastry, Wangji would smile, and it would all be worth it.

“Thank you, xiongzhang.”

Then, three years after jiujiu was taken, a startling news broke out over the lands.

After years of internal strife, the dirty politics of Lanling Jin finally fractured the once glorious reigning sect. Jin Guangshan’s many children and their scheming “little mothers” formed factions and allied themselves with subsidiary sects all vying for control over Lanling’s seat of power. (小娘 xiao’niang = little mother, what one calls one’s mother if one’s mother is not the legal wife. The “real” mother of any children would always be the legal wife, while their birth mothers are ‘little mothers’.)

The details of Jin Guangshan’s demise was not entirely clear, but eventually it was his third son Jin Zitao who became the new Sect Master Jin. Being only eleven years old, it was clear to anyone who had eyes that he was a puppet, completely controlled by the whims of his regent mother, Jin Guangshan’s once favourite concubine, and the ancient respected Qin family who had promised their daughter Qin Su to be his bride once they both come of age.

People had praised Qin Su’s stepmother, Sect Master Qin’s second wife, for securing such an advantageous marriage for a daughter not even of her own blood, stating that with the Dowager Madame Jin’s clever mind and Sect Master Qin’s seniority and experience, surely the murky pond of Lanling would become peaceful once again.

The bigger question now was with three of the five major sects being led by minors - Qishan’s 14 year-old Wen Yuefan, Yunmeng’s 13 year-old Jiang Wanyin, and Lanling’s 11 year-old Jin Zitao - who then would become the next Chief Cultivator. Qinghe Nie seemed the most obvious choice at first glance, for they were the fiercest warriors, but given Sect Master Nie Heqiu’s most recent close encounter with yet another qi deviation, it seemed perhaps the real day-to-day leadership role was fulfilled by his first son Nie Mingjue. At seventeen years of age, he was certainly older than his contemporaries, but still a far cry from what was required to be His Excellency. (温越凡 Wen Yuefan = Wen Qing’s courtesy name)

Naturally, all eyes were drawn then towards Cloud Recesses, whose previous chance at obtaining the seat of Chief Cultivator had been dashed when its sect master at that time, Qingheng-jun, mysteriously vanished more than a decade ago. Now it seemed that Gusu Lan’s fortune was about to change yet again, when what once should have gone to Lan Cenrong now fell to his younger brother Lan Qiren.

News of his rise to power had spread far and wide, until every man, woman, and child knew his name. Until Lan Xichen heard from a gossiping bar-keep at a tavern. Until Lan Wangji heard from the children playing on the street.

One morning Lan Xichen returned to their temporary home to see Wangji sitting in front of the breakfast he’d prepared (when did he learn to cook???) and a purse on the table filled with silver coins and small gold nuggets.

“Wangji...where did you -”

“I don’t want you to go out at night again, xiongzhang,” said Lan Wangji bluntly.

Taken aback by Wangji’s tone and his implications, Xichen quickly gathered his wits and tried to maintain control of the conversation. “That doesn’t answer my question; where did you get the money?”

“I also went out last night, after you assumed I fell asleep and left.”

Xichen’s blood went cold. “You...went out? Out? In the middle of the night?! To do what?!”

Lan Wangji’s stoicism did not waver. “What one usually does to get paid at night. What you’ve been doing for years.”

In three long strides, Lan Xichen strode up to his little brother - his baby brother - and yanked him up by the collar. Grabbing his arms with both hands, he forced Wangji to look him in the eye as he exclaimed in a mad panic, “You didn’t! Tell me you didn’t!!”

God, Wangji, what have you done, what have you done - how could I let this happen - I should’ve done better -

Wangji did not blink, but after a long terrible silence, he said, “No. I didn’t. I just followed you. I saw.”

“You saw…”

There had been a man who eyed him with interest. Lan Xichen wasn’t looking for business - hadn’t been looking for months - but winter was coming and Wangji was growing so much he would need several new sets of robes. Xichen hadn’t been working as many hours as he’d been previously. He needed to train, to cultivate - they both did - so that one day they could do what needed to be done. The core melting technique was not to be trifled with lightly, jiujiu had warned them. They needed time to practice, to perfect it, time that couldn’t be used to earn income.

While yes he could steal and yes he could kill, Lan Xichen realized early on that those two options often caught the attention of local authorities or worse the local cultivation sect, especially if his activities were too frequent or too conspicuous. Sometimes it was just easier…

“The money, then?”

“Don’t you recognize the purse?”

Xichen turned around. He did. He did recognize that silk embroidered draw-string purse. It belonged to the man from last night. He had taken money out of it this morning to pay Xichen for his time.

And when they parted ways, Xichen had gone to a public bath house to get rid of any incriminating evidence on his body before going home to his brother. That was his routine... had been his routine for years…

“I shoved his body down a well. That should buy us enough time to get out of this town. You weren’t planning for us to stay that long anyway right?”

“Wangji…Wangji -” Lan Xichen turned away. He couldn’t face his brother, who now knew what he knew.

“Xiongzhang, don’t do this for me anymore.” Lan Wangji’s hand found his own, squeezing it tightly.

“It’s - it’s really not a big deal.” Lan Xichen tried to laugh it off. “I don’t do it that often. Really - I am your older brother, it is my duty to -”

“No. No more. From now on, if you go out, I go out. I’m old enough -”

“You’re thirteen, a child!”

“So were you.”

Lan Xichen closed his eyes.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know I’m done waiting.”

Lan Wangji was talking, of course, about their vengeance. It was what they spoke of on most nights when they couldn’t sleep. For mother and father and jiujiu, they swore they would not rest until they razed Cloud Recesses to the ground and burned the core out of every last one of their disciples before slitting their throats.

Wangji came around to face him again and stared him down with his brows furrowed tightly above bright determined eyes. “It’s not fair. The Chief Cultivator was supposed to be Father! The heir of Gusu Lan is supposed to be you! Instead - instead...”

Tears welled up in his little brother’s eyes. “They hurt you, ge, I saw. I saw.”

Choking with shame, anger and a pain he couldn’t describe, Lan Xichen pulled Lan Wangji into a crushing hug. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry Wangji. I’m sorry I couldn’t do better. I’m...” Words failed. As Lan Wangji cried into his chest, Lan Xichen looked up to their leaky roof and their bare, striped walls, and wondered what the ethereal Cloud Recesses would look like. All that should have been theirs, should’ve been his, belonged to someone else.

Lan Qiren is Chief Cultivator now. He’s still holding jiujiu captive. He needs to die. The people who killed Father and Mother; they all need to die.

“You’re right, Wangji, you’re right. No more.”

“So you won’t leave at night anymore?”

“I won’t. The world has taken everything from us, I think it’s time we take what we are owed. Once we are strong, we will save jiujiu and avenge A-die and A-niang.”

“And if people try to stop us?”

“Then we will destroy them and anyone else that gets in our way.”

#cql #the untamed #twin jades #lan wangji #lan xichen #cql ficlet #corie fics #carbon in the steel

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dadsbongos · 3 years

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Brother’s Keeper

Movie/Game/Show: The Boy Dynamic: Brahms Heelshire/Reader (Platonic) Warnings: idk The Veldt spoilers if you’ve never read it (it’s really fucking good), the parents suck and they’re emotionally manipulative Summary: Brahms likes to play with his baby sister. ~~~

“What a pouty little face you have,” Mrs. Heelshire pinched at her daughter’s cheeks, stretching them upward, “Come on, let me see a smile.”

(Y/n) swatted at her mother’s hands, “I don’t want to.”

Brahms adjusted his tie as best he could for the family picture, letting his father take over after a minute of fumbling, “She’s not going to smile; little brat.”

“Hey!” the three-year-old girl whined, lips pulling into an even deeper pout, “You can’t be mean and the birthday boy at the same time, it’s not fair!”

The boy rolled his eyes, “You’re just upset your birthday isn't for five more months.”

“I’m seven, I’m too old for dolls,” (Y/n) muttered, not wanting to mention why exactly she didn’t want the porcelain doll, “Besides, he’s too fragile, if I drop him he’ll die.”

Death was a new fascination with the young girl after the incident. Though, to be fair, most fascinations didn’t last four years nor did they start with the horrific death of your older brother.

“Nonsense,” her father grinned, taking the doll from his wife and holding it out to his young daughter, “he was Brahms’ favorite.”

Brahms was a word that had become similar to “fuck” in the parents’ minds. Off-limits by the punishment of spanking or grounding unless you were one of them.

“Oh,” she murmured, carefully taking the toy and holding it to her side, “I never saw him play with it…”

“Too scared to break the poor thing,” Mrs. Heelshire reasoned easily enough, “Named after him.”

(Y/n) looked at the glassy object, “Why do I need to have him?”

“You’re going to take care of him, Brahms would want you to,” Mr. Heelshire brushed the girl’s hair from her forehead before leaving a small kiss to the patch of skin, “Be good to him, sweetheart, won’t you?”

Mrs. Heelshire nodded from behind her husband, “You wouldn’t want to disappoint Brahms, would you?”

She glanced between her pleading parents and the doll, pursing her lips before hesitantly nodding, “Alright, I guess…”

By the time 1999 rolled around and the only living Heelshire child was to turn eleven, there were no more friends to play in the house with. Emily, who in many ways had been an older sister to the girl, was murdered by some sick monster who lit the playhouse she was inside on fire. Well, maybe the killer didn’t light the playhouse on fire.

“You’re three, how are you going to take it from me?”

Instead, (Y/n) was left to play with her doll. With a party hat on her head, courtesy of the new grocery boy, Malcolm, she wandered aimlessly through the halls. Birthdays were no longer a celebration in the manor; unless it was Brahms’, of course. She held the doll to her hip, looking at the series of paintings decorating the wall; most of them portraying her big brother.

She frowned, settling a hand on the wall just below the largest mural in the hall. Her fingers brushed upon a small crevice dip in the split of colors in the striped wallpaper, brows furrowing at the ledge. She curled her fingers around it, beginning to pull when suddenly it popped apart from the wall. A panel opening up in the middle of the hallway, she looked down each end before climbing through.

Her eyes adjusted quickly enough, arms squeezing Brahms tighter to her form. She began creeping down the secret passageway, not noticing the sounds of her parents screaming her name.

A sudden turn and she took it. A curve in the path and she rounded it. Losing herself in the hidden walkways within her home. It was only when she realized how lost she was that panic settled in, “Mama…?”

She held Brahms even tighter, freehand leaving the doll to bang on the interior of the wall, “Papa! Mama?!”

It was half an hour before the panicking parents found their weeping little girl hidden behind a panel close to the fireplace. She was crying into the sweater on her doll, cheeks heated in the force of her tears. Not even Mr. Heelshire’s gentle hugging and cooing could relieve her of the emotional aches.

“You’re to never go in those walls again, do you hear me?” her mother grit through clenched teeth.

Never? As much as (Y/n) wanted to be on board with the idea, she wasn’t sure about never being able to go in again. Maybe… maybe she just had to be older, more mature - yeah - that sounded about right.

“Just once more,” she immediately calmed down, now speaking through a raspy, whiny post-crying voice, “I won’t get lost this time, I promise.”

Mr. Heelshire looked over to his wife, “Just one more couldn’t hurt, she should learn about the walls, shouldn’t she?”

As soon as the words left her husband’s lips, Mrs. Heelshire shook her head, “Not a chance. Haven’t you read The Veldt? That’s how the parents die.”

(Y/n)’s eyes widened, glancing between her parents as tears began springing into the surface, “You guys will die if I go in the walls again?”

Neither parent confirmed it, though they didn’t deny it either, before sending her off to bed with Brahms. Leaving her to question what the walls were in the dark solitude of her lavish bedroom; empty winnings for a girl who felt guilty enjoying them.

By fifteen, there was an influx of nannies coming in and out of the Heelshire home to care for a supposedly haunted doll. She wasn’t sure if she believed it but the messes and thumping and flickering lights were beginning to be too much to ignore. They all started after the wall incident - the second incident she could add to her fault - and she was forbidden from going back inside.

Panels were left open and soft, high-pitched whines ringing from behind them; it was more terrifying than alluring.

With no more Brahms by her side, in the real body or in doll form, (Y/n) was left to wander aimlessly down the halls thinking about how unfair it was of her parents to rip the doll away from her. All due to the walls’ tunnels.

They handed her a memento to her older brother - they used her guilt; her fault against her - just to steal it away eight years later. She hated her parents for it, no, not her parents. Her mother. Mrs. Heelshire barely even let the nannies do their job half the time, she just wanted Brahms all to herself. She gave that doll a surplus of her attention and countless replacement caretakers and never even gave (Y/n) the acknowledgment of their shared grief.

Barely gave her the mind to say, “It’s not your fault.”

Whipping around at the frail whisper, (Y/n) peeked around every visible inch of the hallway to see if one of the nannies was following her or her father was finally ready to free her of guilt. Yet nobody was there, no mouths to whisper and no audible drafts to blame.

She turned back around and continued walking down the hallway, not as alone as before.

“I’m nineteen, don’t you think I should, I don’t know, explore the real world?”

Mrs. Heelshire simply shook her head, “You can’t leave us!”

“I won’t be leaving!” (Y/n) tossed her arms out in a display of exaggeration, “I just can’t be in this house for the rest of my life!”

“So you will go eventually,” the older woman huffed, crossing her arms, “Brahms and now you.”

That made the teenager freeze. Nothing like the mention of her dead brother to make her question herself. She pulled back from the yelling match to judge and critique every inch of herself. Her leaving the nest wasn’t comparable to dying - and Brahms didn’t abandon them, he couldn’t control the flames. It wasn’t like he purposefully lit the playhouse on fire at his own birthday party.

No, but she could’ve stopped it. She knows she could have.

“That’s not fair,” (Y/n) muttered, though it sounded less like a genuine response and more like she was trying to point it out to herself.

“You know what else isn’t fair?”

“Don’t.”

“Having two kids and the only one alive wants to abandon you.”

Mr. Heelshire watched from the kitchen table, sipping on his afternoon tea quietly to give more space for the sound of his wife and daughter’s argument to permeate through the room. Through the room and into the walls where even the biggest rat hiding inside could hear.

(Y/n) rubbed at her arm, regretting her decision to even bring the topic up, “I’m sorry…”

“Oh, honey,” Mrs. Heelshire cooed, cupping her daughter’s cheeks and pulling at any fat her fingers could get to in the pockets, “It’s okay. Don’t be so pouty, it’s alright.”

She didn’t bother pushing her mother’s hands away this time.

(Y/n) silently dipped her paintbrush into a dollop of vibrant, cherry red on her palette, glancing over her canvas to the muse every so often.

A house can appear incredibly eased and soothed from the frontline and nobody would ever know that inside a family of four was being murdered. They wouldn’t know until the corpses were discovered and the extended family was beating at each other. Vultures flocking to the values left to them by death.

Maria, the newest in the line of nannies, was holding position rather well for somebody who’d never modeled before. Clutching Brahms to her hip with a bright, pearly-toothed smile.

“I saw a few of your works around the house earlier,” the black-haired woman spoke, “Impressive for only twenty-three.”

“Thanks,” (Y/n) strained a grin, she didn’t necessarily prefer silence - you could hear the walls whispering when it was silent - but sadly, her focus wavered with noise, “I just like to paint the nannies; don’t like to forget them so quickly.”

“Oh,” Maria awkwardly chuckled, “well, that sounds nice of you…?”

“Just a personal thing,” the young woman shrugged off before catching something in the frame of her eye, “You’re about to drop Brahms.”

“Shit!” the other woman murmured, readjusting the doll in her arms, “Thank you so much.”

“My mom will go crazy, I don’t want to watch her yell at somebody over nothing,” she pursed her lips, “Not nothing; just something small.”

“Are you serious?” (Y/n) narrowed her eyes at her mother, “You and Dad are leaving for a two-month vacation right before my birthday?”

“You’re turning twenty-eight, dear,” Mrs. Heelshire smiled faintly, “I think you’ll be fine, now if you don’t mind, I’ll go downstairs and teach the new nanny how to properly care for Brahms.”

(Y/n) crossed her arms, watching her father continue to pack his bags, “You’re really just letting her drag you out of town right now?”

“She didn’t drag me into anything, honey,” he sighed, whether he knew how much it hurt her feelings to hear that or not didn’t exactly matter.

“Fuck you,” she grumbled, rushing out of the room and down the stairs, the twenty-seven-year-old woman went into her bedroom, fully prepared to ignore her parents and the new nanny. Blissfully unaware of the pest in her walls, watching with sad eyes and wanting to see her smile.

“Knock it off!” (Y/n) cried out to the man swinging the doll around - a protective instinct burning at her gut as she thought of him breaking it. She immediately regretted the harsh tone when Cole’s furious gaze snapped back to her, “Please… just give him back…”

“Watch it,” Cole threatened, holding the doll further away from her than before, “Pull any funny shit and I’ll break in your pretty little face.”

Yet another mistake against the brute, not that anybody but the secret rat was counting. The first, of course, being his arrival. The last, naturally, was bashing the doll’s head against the lip of a seat.

(Y/n) hiccuped wildly, her burst of tears nearly choking her as Cole shushed the room during one of Brahms’ fits. She’d experienced countless ragers with that doll to blame but this was the worst. Cole put a finger to his lips, commanding the people behind him into silence as he went to the wall, knocking a few times with his ear pressed to it. He went to the mirror next, grinning slightly, “There’s something- “

Before he could finish his sentence, the glass burst apart and forced him onto his back.

As Greta screamed and (Y/n) held her head in her hands in the midst of her hysterics, Malcolm called to the two women.

Large hands pulled onto the mirror frame first, then out came a fully grown man. Brahms Heelshire was alive - and he was big.

(Y/n) fell onto her ass, watching as her previously dead big brother stabbed Colt in the neck with a piece of his broken doll. Brahms lunged for Greta only to be beaten down by Malcolm and when the two were away; (Y/n) did not leave.

She crawled over to his sprawled out form, taking his shoulder into her hands and shaking him slightly, “Brahms…?”

He jerked once - then twice, then pushed himself up, taking a moment to look at his little sister before standing. In a fashion similar to when they used to sneak around the manor as children, he pressed a finger to his mask’s lips before running off.

“I came back for you, Brahms.”

(Y/n) fiddled with her fingers as her older brother was swept upstairs by Greta, following after them like a lost puppy. As Greta pulled back the covers, (Y/n) felt her heart thump wildly in her chest.

Of course, it never helped when he threw a woman across the room.

“Brahms!” (Y/n) shrieked, latching onto her brother’s back and attempting to pull him off Greta, only succeeding when he fell back from his own stab wound.

Greta stopped at the doorway, turning to watch as the Heelshire girl cradled her big brother’s head in her hands in her panic-rich state, “(Y/n), come on. We have to go.”

Looking between Greta and her brother, (Y/n) felt the memories creep back up from the dip of her spine.

“Is that Papa’s lighter?”

Emily nodded slightly as Brahms watched the flame flicker, the little boy speaking up first, “I was interested in it, I’m sure he won’t mind.”

(Y/n) clutched at a lock of her own hair, “You better give it back or I’ll take it myself!”

“You’re three, how are you going to take it from me?” he scoffed before shooing her out of the playhouse, “If you tell Dad, I’ll break all your toys and cut up your dresses.”

She hadn’t told Father - she didn’t take the lighter.

Shaking her head, (Y/n) looked back to her older brother, burn scars on the visible half of his face and suddenly the guilt was rising to her throat again. Her hands smoothed over to the clasp of the mask, carefully unclipping it as Greta ran off to find Malcolm. A wicked sob racked her throat, her voice squeaking up soft and whiny, “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”

A hand came up to brush her tears away, Brahms watching his little sister continue to cry, a small, childlike voice peeking through his lips, “Please don’t cry, (Y/n)… I don’t want to see you cry…”

Calming down only slightly, (Y/n) helped her brother sit up, “I’ll stay, I’m sorry.”

Brahms continued to watch his sister’s tears spill, “You’ll stay.”

It wasn’t a question, he barely even bothered to disguise it as such.

“I’ll stay…”

She didn’t really have a choice, not when her parents kept her under lock and key so strictly. But maybe they anticipated Brahms coming back; maybe they wanted her to have no independence so she wouldn’t leave her big brother.

Not that she’d be able to ask them.

#brahms heelshire #brahms the boy #brahms heelshire x reader

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canyouhearthelight · 4 years

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The Miys, Ch. 70

After every serious arc, I like to do a fluffy chapter. Super fluffy. And this one is no exception.

There are three people I cannot thank enough for helping with this chapter. First up is @charlylimph-blog for helping me get the character of Charly right. You may remember her briefly as the woman with the collar from the Food Festival arc.

Second, of course, is @satan-parisienne for beta-ing the stuff I churn out. She is in town for New Year’s this week, and I had the absolute pleasure of watching her reactions in real-time (something I haven’t gotten to do in several months)!

Last but not least, @baelpenrose, who has been giving the last few chapters a read to make sure the story is consistent and to poke holes in anything I may have missed or got mixed up.

Happy New Year, and I hope to see you all in the New Roaring 20s!

”Sophia, we sorta kinda maybe need to talk?”

I glanced up from my datapad, rubbing the cramp in my neck as I did. With Insert Winter Holiday – and the crisis with Else – behind us, the backlog at work basically qualified as cruel and unusual punishment in most Terran jurisdictions. Unfortunately, we weren’t on Terra anymore, so I was working twenty hour days trying to get things back on an even keel. Neither my joints nor my partners were very appreciative of it, but at least Conor and Maverick complained less than my spine did.

When I saw my visitor, I stood with much crackling to greet her. Charly bounced in, completely oblivious to my crunchy joints. “You work too much,” she scolded without preamble. “We need a ladies’ night – you, me, Tyche, and Xiomara. No arguments.”

Arching an eyebrow at her uncharacteristically demanding tone, I glanced over her shoulder. A dark silhouette that rivaled Conor’s height flashed a quick, blinding white grin. I shrugged and looked back to the energetic brunette in front of me. “And when am I supposed to have time for a ladies’ night, Charly?”

“I already talked to Xiomara, who talked to Tyche, who told Alistair to clear your calendar the day after tomorrow. So, tomorrow night, we’re getting cute and going out!”

“Three out of four of those names are in relationships,” I pointed out.

“So? It’s drinks with the girls. I tried to ask Grey, but they don’t want to go.” She dropped her eyes and pouted at my navel before looking back in the direction of my face. “Still. It’s not like we have to be on the hunt for sexy fun times just to go out and have drinks together. It’ll be fun. And you know you love the Undine, you just haven’t had an excuse to go back with everything going on.”

Bacon Bloody Marys… I shook my head vigorously, focusing on the present. “You do realize that Xio, Tyche, and I are probably going to talk about work, right?”

“Duh. Geez, that’s what the booze is for. Complaining about work is enhanced… by the booze.”

I sighed. Ever since she had been released from medical observation, I had learned that saying no to Charly was incredibly difficult. Even Tyche just kind of went along with her in something of a confused daze. I swore, the woman had a superpower – people just agreed with her. The only thing standing between her and Galactic domination was the same low threshold my sister and I shared for being around people.

If she was this eager to go out, to a bar, for a girls’ night, who were we to say no?

“Can I at least take today to think about – “ I tried in vain, only to be cut off.

“Eeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Girls’ night! Girls’ Night! Ladies’ gonna get druuuuuunk!” she started chanting and dancing in a circle.

Sure enough, the next night saw Tyche fussing over my outfit and hair, gently trying to tousle it into something she obviously understood and I didn’t. Xiomara was laughing hard enough that the only thing saving her from an abrupt, face-first introduction with the floor was the doorway she was leaning against. When I tried to turn my head to scowl at her, Tyche used one very firm fingertip to turn my head back to her. “I’m almost done. Would you just hold still? Sheesh,” she grumbled.

“You know I hate getting dolled up,” I pointed out sulkily.

She ignored me, instead stepping back to look at her handiwork. “I think that will work,” she finally pronounced with a nod.

The mirror she held up made me want to scream. “I look exactly like I did before!” I cried in confusion. “Why did you spend an hour making my hair look exactly the same!?”

With a low growl, she rolled her eyes and shook her head at a now-gasping Xiomara. “Some people just don’t understand,” she sighed dramatically. Glaring at me, she pointed at my hair. “This does not look the same. It looks intentional.”

Xiomara temporarily sobered up enough to contribute her two cents. “Before, you had bed-head. Now, you have sex hair. Big difference.”

“You. Two. Are. Loony,” I ground out. I reached to run a hand through my hair in frustration, only to have Tyche intercept it.

“Don’t you dare. I don’t have time to fix it,” she ordered before dragging me out of my office, my hand still clutched tightly in her grasp. Groaning as loudly as possible in hopes of rescue, I reluctantly allowed myself to be pulled along until we reached the Undine. Once outside, my sister stopped and dropped my hand, giving me one last once-over before seeming content that I hadn’t managed to wreck her painstaking work in the last forty meters.

I was permitted to enter the pub under my own power. Making our way to the back of the space, we found Charly had already claimed a high-top. As soon as we were visible, Coffey gently cupped her jaw in one massive hand and gave her a kiss that was paired with a look that clearly meant Stay out of trouble. Charly just gave him an angelic smile.

Frankly, the odds of that were fifty-fifty. Charly wasn’t reckless – not by a long shot. On the contrary, I had learned in recent weeks that she was usually very quiet and extremely cautious. In absolute, direct conflict with this was an underlying need to play pranks on unsuspecting victims.

Given her usual demeanor, ‘unsuspecting’ was synonymous with ‘everyone on the Ark except Noah and Coffey’. Well, Coffey at least suspected it, but he wasn’t exactly immune to pranks. When I asked her about it once, she just shrugged and told me “Hey, if I’m going to be punished, I may as well deserve it.”

The man in question waved one hand at the three of us before disappearing into the crowd. I honestly had no clue how he did that – he was easily the second tallest human on the ship. More annoyingly, he did it all. The. Damned. Time. It was profoundly frustrating, albeit very impressive. Squashing the sigh I felt bubbling up, I turned back to the table. Tyche and Xiomara were already seated, leaving me a seat across from my sister.

No sooner did I climb onto my seat, than Sebastian came through the crowd with a tray full of drinks. Coconut rum and fruit juice for Tyche, an enormous Bloody Mary for myself, neat whiskey for Xiomara, and eye-catchingly blue something-slushy with a huge wedge of pineapple and an umbrella for Charly. She caught me looking and held it up so I could see it better. “It has alcohol, I swear – blue curacao, cognac, and rum.”

With a skeptic glance, Tyche sniffed the drink and wrinkled her nose. “Sounds like a hangover.”

“Nuh-uh,” Charly retorted. “It sounds like fun!”

Xiomara rolled her eyes before downing her whiskey with a wink at me. “If we’re here to drink, may as well, right?”

An hour and a half later, Sebastian was taking away our most recent set of empty glasses, ducking Tyche’s hand as she gesticulated wildly. She was telling some story to Charly, who had slowly scooted her chair closer and closer. At the moment, she was leaning on the part of the table that was actually in front of my sister, watching and giggling as Tyche enthusiastically flailed and made exaggerated faces. I could not figure out for the life of me what story she was telling, but a few minutes later she tipped her head back with a clap of her hands and a peal of laughter. This sent Charly into a fit of giggles, face down on her arms.

I glanced at Xiomara, who was smiling, but still clearly sober despite her drinks. With a conspiratorial tone, I told her “They are soooo drrrrr… draaa…. dur-rur-rur… Inebriated. Very inebriated.”

Xio stopped mid-sip to arch an eyebrow at me. “You seriously couldn’t get out the word drunk so you went with, of all things, inebriated!?”

Tyche and Charly collapsed into howling laughter at the disbelief in her tone. I just tapped my temple and sat as straight as I possibly could, offended. “Dain bramage, Xio. Loooooots of brain damage.” I ruined my scolding tone by belatedly realizing what I had initially said and snorting with laughter.

That seemed to break the dam to pieces, because I started giggling and could not stop myself no matter how hard I tried. It didn’t help when, just as the giggling started to trickle off, Charly howled “Dain Bramaaaage!” at the top of her lungs and blindly toasted the room with a mostly-empty hurricane glass. The gesture sent the wedge of pineapple on the rim into a tumbling arc…

Right into Xiomara’s whiskey, droplets splashing her face.

I didn’t know whether it was the pineapple or the wet-cat look on Xio’s face, but either way, it was the funniest thing the three of us had ever seen. Soon, Tyche and I were leaning against Charly, fighting for breath against the laughter that was possessing us like minor demons.

“Ha, ha, ha,” Xiomara mock-sneered. “Go ahead, laugh it up. I swear, you three are –“

When she stopped mid-sentence, Tyche popped up like a meerkat. Almost immediately, she was smacking my shoulder and shaking Charly. “Look! Looklooklooklooklook.”

Xiomara was frozen, face slack, mouth half-open with the dying breath of whatever she was about to call us. Her eyes were glued to the entrance of the Undine. I felt two different spots in my neck pop as I snapped my head around to see what she was staring at. At first, all I could see was just an ocean of people getting after-work drinks and socializing… granted, it was a little quieter than I expected, and more people were talking in hushed tones than I remembered from bars back home, but maybe I was just out of touch.

Tyche saved me again by reaching across, grabbing my jaw, and turning my head to face what Xiomara was looking at: a beautiful woman, about my height, with what seemed like miles of thick, black hair, and a stunning blue saree with warm gold and pale green details coming over her shoulder. I could see how she was a show-stopper, honestly, but Xio’s reaction seemed a bit dramatic.

In contrast to this, Charly’s head came up, dislodging Tyche’s hand. “Oh, that’s just Parvati! She’s an artist. I think she told me once she did murals in the Before?”

The statement seemed to snap Xio out of her trance. “What? How do you know her?”

Oblivious to the demanding tone, Charly shrugged. “She works with Hannah a lot. Like, a lot-lot. So I’ve met her a few times. She’s really lovely, honestly. Some of her work is in the database… she did a lot of politically-charged protest art, like this one…what was it called?” She snapped her fingers a few times, lost in thought. “Started with a ‘G’ I think? Refugee something?”

“Refugee Guernica!?” my sister and I demanded at the same time.

“Yeah! That one. The really violent one.”

The piece had been extremely controversial: a hyper-realistic mural of climate refugees, posed to evoke the original Picasso work and gaunt with starvation. That, alone, would have been palatable to the powers-that-were. However… the artist had gone one step further and portrayed what had been livestock in the original work as human beings, feasted upon by the fattened rich. It had also been in true-to-life color, which hadn’t helped soften any blows. Tyche and I had both been breathless the first time we saw an image of it.

“That is the person who did that mural?” Tyche asked, pointing a finger at the woman across the bar.

Charly nodded enthusiastically. “Yep! Parvati Fletcher. Remember? Signed all her murals with a little arrow, fletched with peacock feathers?”

Xiomara’s eyes narrowed. “She did the one decrying the Baconists, didn’t she?”

“Yeah! Animal Farm, the scene where the pigs were adding ‘but some animals are more equal than others’. I don’t know if Parvati has it in her to hate, but the closest I ever saw her come was when she compared Baconists to the rich. She said that the only difference between the two was that Baconists were more honest about wanting annihilate humanity.”

Dark eyes narrowed as Xio flicked open her datapad, summoning data furiously. Abruptly, she relaxed. “I remember this file… We suspected her after what happened on Level One, but Noah confirmed on three separate occasions that she was telling the truth.”

“Duuuuuhhhhhhhhh,” Charly intoned, rolling her eyes comically. “Vati doesn’t argue much, but one thing that will always make her speak is the fact that she only believes that humanity is at its best if everyone is given the opportunity to be their best.”

“That’s… why she’s here, isn’t it?” I asked with dawning comprehension.

“Well, yeah. Why else? You’re here for the same reason, right? You believe in the best in a person, no matter the person, right? Well, she believes in that… It’s like, if you’re a psychologist, she would be a sociologist. She believes in the best in humanity, not just the best in a person.”

Huh. That was a breath of fresh air. I glanced back at Xiomara. She looked lost, and I followed her sight back to the same blue and earth-tone saree, shining dark hair, and a bright white laugh. I glanced back and forth a few times before the realization hit me between the eyes like a sledgehammer. The gaping stare, the quick background check and almost melting relief… “Xio?” I whispered in that special, extra-quiet volume only drunk people can use. “You like her, don’t you?”

“Tell the whole bar, why don’t you?” she grumbled.

“Hey, I’m not judging,” I held my hands up placatingly. “I just…. I had a completely different idea in mind for your type, that’s all. Took me a bit to realize I was so, so wrong.”

“Oh, yeah, peopling-queen?” she smirked. “Do tell, what did you have in mind as ‘my type’?”

“Well, I saw this video once of a lady who broke a pumpkin in half between her thighs…” I gave her a pointed look.

Next to her, Tyche nodded vigorously. “And more sharp objects. We both thought your affections could only be won by someone who could best you in single combat.”

Charly scowled. “There are more types of combat than fighting, you two. I bet Parvati has incited more political uprisings than any four people at this table.” My brows furrowed and I opened my mouth to say something, but Charly rolled her eyes again and cut me off. “Yes, Sophia. I am aware there are only four people at this table. That’s the point.”

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blizzardfluffykpop · 5 years

Text

Marry for Love

Summary: If you love someone let them go, if they never come back they were never truly yours. But if they come back, they were meant to be.

Oneshot

Yugyeom X Reader

This is kind of based off of Krogstad and Mrs. Linde’s relationship in “The Doll’s House”.

When I was younger I fell in love with the sweetest man of my life, things were wonderful, we even got engaged. Things took a turn for the worst, my mother fell ill and I needed to take care of her. I dropped everything including the engagement to care for her and my baby sister. My heart broke the minute I had to tell Yugyeom that I could no longer be with him, we were high school sweethearts that lasted. And here I was flushing that whole relationship down the drain. It broke my heart to pieces he would write sometimes hoping I would change my mind. I would read them earnestly and then they just stopped coming. I was torn, it was my fault I would never reply because I had too much on my plate. I love Yugyeom to pieces but that was years ago now, I had married for money while juggling two jobs. The man was older than hell, and he had left me with nothing when he died. No children to keep me laughing, and by then my mother was long gone, and my baby sister had her own family. I was left on my own, no grief to take my heart just the sounds of my own hollow heart.

The last job I had dropped me for someone younger, I was 28 how much younger did they want? Turns out an 18 year old can do a better job than I can. I moved to a new town my heart in shambles. With nothing to keep me going, moving seemed to be the only option for me. The day I moved, my old friend Nari took me in until I was stable with a job and a place to live.

Who would have guessed that my high school sweetheart would have had kids, and was now widowed. Certainly not me but when I saw him on the streets and his three little ones trailing behind him. My heart sank, he would never see me the same. And as I stared he turned his neck looking dead at me. I ducked under the windowsill, too late, but maybe he would think it was a figment of his imagination.

Still after all this time he made my heart pick up. He had changed though, he was now something otherworldly; and he still had to care for his kids while being a vampire. He didn't want his kids to suffer the same fate. He was hanging out at his wife's grave when he was turned, she had just recently past. It still kind of hurt, even if he didn't marry for love, and he had married for status. While he was sitting there, they shoved against the gravestone, drained him of blood and poisoned him to become just like the monster they were.

He has desperately tried to conceal it from his kids, but you can't hide much from a child. They found out quickly, but promised to keep it a secret if he would take them flying. How could he tell his kids no? And so he did, and it became a monthly thing out in the woods. For they had nothing to fear as long as daddy was there. He was thankful for his kids keeping him on his toes and happy even with his disease.

To see (Y/n) in his town made him feel terror and it made him reminisce in the past. For his heart still belonged to (Y/n) even if his heart no longer beats. His heart caught in his throat and he quickly took his kids home. Investigating if this was really who he saw, sneaking around the town was easy for him with his lightning fast speed. He didn’t use them often to appear normal in the small town he was currently living in. Seeing them standing there in the little shop, awoke his heart, what could he do? Avoid the situation at all costs? Or run straight into the problems and deal with the repercussions later. Wealth and status no longer mattered to him, did it matter to them? All of these questions were running through his head, he sighed deciding to avoid it till another day. Turning back and heading home to his three little ones, he needs to care for. But that would come later it would seem because there they were, standing right in front of him. “Is it really you Yugyeom?” His breath caught in his throat, if his heart could beat it would be beating out of his chest. He nods, “I didn’t expect to see you,” “Nor I…”

He catches his breath, “Where’s your wedding ring?” They look at him, “I can ask the same of you” “Widowed?” They nod and he agrees to his own statement. “Did he give you any children?” “No, what about your lover?” “Three” They nod, and with that they were gone with the wind. They left as fast as they came in, if he was actually paying attention they went around the corner, and put a hand over their heart. Their heart beating out of their chest, to see Yugyeom again, put so many things into perspective. Thinking that he has three little ones from someone else hurts. But the world is not like that huh? It does not let you live your stupid fairy tales, just because you want to. No, it is much more horrendous than that, he moved on, and I guess I should too. If only my mother hadn’t gotten seriously ill, maybe we could have been wed, and had our own three little ones, adopted or not. For I could not marry him, neither him or I had a stable job, when I got one he was still going through practice to become stable enough for a successful job. And I couldn’t wait, my heart ripped out when I sent him that letter, nothing else in the world could ever hurt as much. For I could never be who he needed, and at the time he couldn’t be the man I needed. But now all my thoughts are caught up in the fact that I could be with him.

Shit I fucked it up didn’t I? Yugyeom internally screams at himself, I should have not asked if they had kids, that was messed up of me. But I had assumed, that they loved that man more than me, that they would have kids. With a broken heart, I became a dance instructor eventually finding a woman close enough to my dreams. I married her for the noble status she had, for the fact that she would be able to give me kids to succeed me in the business I opened for dance. I was so greedy and selfish about it, not being able to be with (Y/n) made me heartless. Maybe that was why it was so easy for the vampires to turn me like them. Because I too, was heartless since they left me, that I was already that much closer to being a monster. I had tried so desperately to love my wife, and when she died from a sickly disease my heart didn’t weep as much as I thought it would. It mostly weeped for my kids, who would be left without their biological mother. Without the loving nature she always had for everything, sitting at the gravesite and supposedly talking to her, cleared up bits of my conscious and gave me the confidence to raise my three little ones. But seeing the love of my life, or what once was, brought all my feelings back, all the memories of when I was once content with my life. With them destroying my heart, I felt nothing but despair, although I had happy moments, nothing could compare to them.

If they knew that I was a vampire she would leave me quicker than I can move. They were my everything, and now I’m left with nothing, for all I am is a monster trapped in a human body. I drag my feet to my home, my kids running up to me and talking to me. I smile at them, for some reason no matter the mood I am in, they can always bring me back. I sit on the couch and we gather around the television and talk about anything they can come up with. Delving into deeper topics, then they ask the question, “Who was that you went looking for?” I sigh, “Do you three really want to know?” “Please, Daddy!!” I roll my eyes, they don’t even have to plead to know, they truly own my heart, other than that person who was standing in the little bookstore. “Daddy knew them a long time ago, way before you three would be born. They were Daddy’s high school sweetheart, the love of his life,...” “What happened?” I look down at my lap twiddling my thumbs, “While we were engaged, their mother fell ill, they had to care for their mother and their baby sister now, they were anything but selfish. But Daddy was broken when they broke off the engagement to marry to a man with money.” “But Daddy, you have money now” Darrian, my oldest tells me, “I know sweetheart, but that’s not the point. Your Daddy wasn’t well off when he was younger, he came from a poor family, your mother was rich and wealthy beyond my dreams. Why she married me was because her father didn’t like the idea, and wanted to prove something to him, while I married her for status. My sweetheart was the same way in the sense of money, to be rich and lonely is poisoning to be poor and in love, is worth every struggle. I want you three to marry for love and nothing less, if you do not love them, do not marry them okay.” “Daddy,... what are you gonna do now?” “I’m not sure, my internal heart says to chase after them and give them my everything. But my brain is saying no, because they still probably love their deceased lover.” Fred looks at me quizzically, “If you love them, go after them-” “Do you forget what I am?” “That does not matter in love’s eyes, Daddy!! Love is blind and if they really love you they won’t care about that” My little girl, Areum tells me crossing her arms and sternly nods her head. “What if-” “Don’t you dare second guess yourself, Daddy!” Areum says with a glare, “Jeez I raised you kids right” They laugh at my expense, and I grab them up into my arms, “Let’s head to bed okay, and we’ll talk about it in the morning” “Fine” Darrian scoffs at me, these kids are gonna be the death of me. Once they are set to bed with a bedtime story, I go downstairs and pull out a blood bag from the fridge. I slump into a chair, and groan at myself, I could have just told them how I felt. That my nonexistent heart still beats because of them, but that would have been creepy wouldn’t have it been.

I could have just talked to him about everything, maybe on another day, and we can figure out our feelings. Nari looks at me when I come into the house, “Is something wrong?” “Remember Yugyeom?” “Oh yeah, you two were high school sweethearts, those were the days…” She smiles softly at me, “Yeah they were--I saw him today” “Oh, he does live in these parts” “Um that would have been nice to know, you know…” “Oh, I’m sorry dear that completely slipped my mind, but did you two talk?” I nod shoving my face into my arm, “I wish I would have just married him, back then…” “We all make mistakes dear, after all, if I hadn’t tripped and fell right in front of my wife, I would have never met her…” I sigh, “Yeah but that was a cute mistake--” “Not when it happened, but yeah, you’ll make amends don’t worry dearest, things happen for a reason. Now do you want to help me knit a scarf for our soon to be son?” I nod, helping her, at least I landed a job, that means I can rent an apartment, and start my life back up.

First day at work, and I’m excited that this will be a change of pace for me. They teach me the ropes and I catch on fairly quickly, it’s quite easy to run this little bookstore. On the first check, I manage to get my own apartment, and I have yet to see Yugyeom since I ran into him the first day I was here in town. Which that I’m glad of, but at the same time, my heart is anything but content, always searching for his black hair and his long black trench. He still wears the trench I bought him for our first anniversary, the big hole on the left elbow being the biggest indicator. He slipped and fell on the ice in front of my porch ripping it and crying about it, he was so sweet, not wanting to damage something that meant so much to him. I laughed it off and helped him patch himself up, everything but the coat, to see that he still wears it made my heart flutter. But I wasn’t about to say anything, for fear of what he could say.

I got off later than usual, my eyes droopy and tired, I go home the fastest way, down the side streets. I was doing fine, I’ve never been scared of the back-ways, but this, this was about to change everything. Yugyeom sitting on the ledge of a fence, a dead cat in his hands, and his mouth to it. The next thing I know is that I'm not in my apartment, and this place is freaking me out. What happened last night? Wait, could that be reality? And I didn’t just dream that up? I mean I could have, but then it can’t be, because that was so vivid, and did I really pass out because of that? I sit up on the couch and there stands Yugyeom in pink robe with pajamas on, “I can explain!!” He waves his hands in front of him, “Um?... You should…” He sighs and sits next to me, “You see a lot has changed since we parted ways… Now believe me or not, but after I was widowed I was sitting in front of her grave, trying to figure out how I was gonna care for my three little ones… I was slammed against a gravestone and turned into a vampire…” I click my tongue, “I can believe it, but it seems a little far-fetched, my soft Yugyeom is now a vampire?” He nods, ready for me to walk out of the door, and I softly put my hand on his cheek, “Can you show me?” His eyes glint red as his teeth sharpen, I nod my head, well, he wasn’t lying that’s for sure. “Do you want to talk about everything?” I ask softly, and he nods.

A little girl runs down the steps, “Daddy!! It’s almost time for school!” “Go get ready and wake up your brothers for me okay?” “I will, but who are you?” She pertains the question to me, “I-I-I… I’m (Y/n)” I say not expecting the question, she gasps and looks at Yugyeom before quickly running up the stairs. “Um? Okay?” “That’s Areum for you” He laughs, “She’s my baby girl, the youngest of the three” I nod, “She’s cute” He grins, “I know” I roll my eyes, “So…” “Yeah?” “I wish I never left you,…” I say softly, “but I guess you’ve moved on.” He shakes his head, “That’s where you’re wrong.” I tilt my head, “I tried everything to get over you, I married for goodness sakes. Although it was the money and status, and for her it was to prove her parents wrong…” I look down at my hands, “So you did the same I had?” “In a way” I look up at him to see him staring at me, “I… If you’ll have me maybe… We can start over again?” He tilts his head at me, “Why do we have to start over?” Words leave me, “When we can pick up where we left off?” I looked at him quizzically, “What do you mean by that?” “I mean, um,... that we can become friends and then something more… That we don’t have to completely start over again, because it’s not like we don’t know each other…” It catches up with me what he means, I smile at him, “I would like that…”

His sons come rushing down the stairs, their sister in tow, when a kid puts his hand out to me, “I’m Darrian!” I smile, “It’s nice to meet you, Darrian, I’m (Y/n).” He grins, Fred and Areum introduce themselves to me. And I grin, “You guys are so cute, much like your father” “Yeah Daddy is the best ain’t he!!” Fred grins at me, I nod, and Fred high fives Areum, and Yugyeom is gone and back in his clothes, “Let’s go kiddos” And without a further word they climb onto him, and he takes them to school, and I’m left all alone.

I’m in Yugyeom’s house, and I feel uncomfortable, but I don’t want to be disrespectful, thankfully I had my phone and respond to a few texts. And scroll through social media to hear the door open again, and there is Yugyeom. Standing in all of his glory, “It feels lonely without them…” He sighs, I look over at him and nod, “Yeah I understand” He sits next to me, “I’m sorry I didn’t take you to your apartment, I didn’t know where you lived exactly…” I nod, “It’s okay, I’m sorry I fainted.” “If I was in the same situation I would have fainted…” I giggle, “You were always faint of heart like I was” He pouts, “It’s changed me…” “Do you want to talk to me about it…” He shrugs, “The minute you left me I felt heartless anyway, what brought back parts of my heart were my little ones. They kept me happy, always bringing me up, if it weren’t for them I don’t know where I would be now… It was funny because I was already like a vampire, heartless, soulless, although the wound started to scab over, it was too late. It’s not your fault, its mine for never having the heart to get over you. To only reminisce, when I was turned I was expecting to hide it from my kids for as long as I could. But you can never keep secrets from kids, they catch on quickly. And now, they make me fly them in the woods every month to keep it as a secret. Because vampire don’t exist, at least to the average person.” “But you’re sitting right next to me, also your kids pulled the same exact thing you did.” He looks at me with a weird look, “What do you mean by that?” I giggle, “You don’t remember?” He shakes his head at me, “When I ruined the new clothes mom got me by accident, by falling on my ass in mud, and it ripped a big seam. I got you to shut your mouth by writing you love letters every week. I fixed the dress, of course… you did the same thing your kids do now” He laughs, “I remember that, and you were so pissed at me… But you didn’t stop, even after you fixed the clothes… I kept them all.” I blush, “Remember when we broke up and you still kept mailing me love letters?” He nods, “I kept them and read them until they ripping at the folds, and the tear stains were ruining them” He brings me into his arms, “I’m sorry if it’s too soon… I just wanted to feel you in my arms again… That’s all I wanted to do for eight years.” My arms wrapping around him, “I loved you so much, it ripped up my heart, my mom was so mad at me when she found out, she didn’t talk to me for three weeks… I should have just went back to you, but I was already married to the old fogy… You writing letters didn’t help either, the nightmares didn’t stop for years. I tried everything in the books, before I started holding that little teddy bear you gave me… I never got over you either, Yugyeom. I’m sorry for what I put us through…” Putting my head in my hands, ashamed of myself, I loved the man so much, but I couldn’t wait, and my mother said she’d rather die than let me be unhappy. She did, just before the old man would die, he had me as his show and tell, look what I got, and you don’t have. My heart was torn from that, I wish I just stayed with Yugyeom, my baby sister thankfully didn’t make the same mistakes as me. Marrying for love, but it seems neither Yugyeom or I made that decision.

I didn’t notice the tears streaming down my face, I’m so ashamed of my decisions, until I feel Yugyeom pulling me further into him and tear droplets hitting my face. We just stayed there crying for a good amount of time, before I softly tell him, “Yugyeom?” A broken ‘hmm’ comes out of his mouth, “I still love you, and I can’t change that…” He lifts my face to look him in the eyes, “Say that again…” “I still love you--” He kisses me, and my heart feels this complement it hasn’t felt in years. I turn myself around, to wrap my arms around him, when we break away from each other, our foreheads touching. He tells me softly, “Areum was right,... Love is blind…” I laugh, “Love is a cruel mistress too” He shrugs at me, “You’re here that’s what matters… You really don’t care that I’m a vampire?” I shrug, “That makes you hotter even if you’re cold blooded now.” He laughs and kisses my nose, “If you’ll have me, and my kids, they seem to like you, would you want to be with me?” I give him a grin, “I would love too, Yugyeom, you’ve been my dreams for years, if you and your kids want me here,...” He kisses my nose, “I do value their opinion a lot” “I’m glad, you should look out for them first.”

Two hours went by and we talk about everything, from what happened to our high school sweetheart days. He picks up his little ones, and they look at me, “Are you gonna break Daddy’s heart again?” Darrian says with a steely gaze analyzing me, “Never again” Fred looks at me with the same gaze, “Why did you decide to come back into his life? Now of all times?” Oh man, these kids are gonna eat me alive, it makes me smile internally that they are so protective of him, “I was married to a man I didn’t love, my heart always belonged to Yugyeom, but divorce in these parts will brand you, and I wouldn’t be able to get a job. That marriage was to take care of my mother and my baby sister, my job couldn’t support either of them. Yugyeom was still finding his way, and it broke my heart, my mother was mad at me for marrying that man. She had a right to be, she couldn’t be as mad at me as I was at myself. For I had lost the love of my life, my mother preached back and forth to not marry for money but to marry for love. She told me after that fact, but I had no other choice, I thought, I wanted my mother to live a long and happy life. But she wasn’t happy if I wasn’t, she would pass before I got out of that man’s grasp. I was left with nothing but an unhappy heart after he left me. I come to Yugyeom now,... I didn’t expect to see him ever again, I was sure he moved far away and started a beautiful happy family. Never to remember me, for me to be just a distant memory. Everything came flooding back when I saw him in the bookstore, my whole world went upside down… You see I’ve never loved someone like how I love Yugyeom. He’s been my only true love, for twelve years if you add our high school days. My heart never truly left him, seeing him again brought everything back. He has always been the one, and after talking to him in streets, that first day and not seeing him for weeks… Killed my heart, it left me in shambles, and he scared me to pieces when I was taking side streets home, and there he was… I will never believe that I got a chance with him again... “

I trail off, they take a minute to process what I said, before Darrian asks me again, “Do you really love him or are you just saying it to get his money?” I look deeply into Darrian’s eyes, “I’m in no need of money, I’m in need of happiness, love, and a family. My family left me a while ago, my husband and I were never in love; and I never had any little ones to care for. My mother said to only marry someone for love. That is better to be poor and happy than rich and lonely…” Areum whispers something to Fred who whispers to Darrian, and Areum speaks up, “Why do you love our Daddy?”

“It started a long time ago, when I first met Yugyeom when we were thirteen… And he bought me an ice cream,... and to a thirteen year old, that meant that we were friends. My heart fell for the simple act, and it only blossomed from there. I started writing him love letters and he would write them back, and my heart was sold. That he was the only one for me, and the last thing he ever wrote to me was a love letter… My heart still aches because of that…” They nod, Yugyeom looks at me and carefully grabs my hand, “I still read your love letters, like you do with mine…” I blush at him, “Mama used to say that you can tell if a couple is meant to be, when they form a perfect heart together…” Areum tells me, “And you two,... form a perfect heart… Daddy and Mama used to form a triangle…”

Fred looks at me and shrugs but with a daring look in his eyes, “I’m willing for you to be apart of our family, but if you break Daddy’s heart. You have another thing coming… Daddy says he’s a monster, but we’re his little monsters, and we’re 10x worse” I grin, “You remind me so much of your dad, Fred” He laughs, “I’ve been told.”

I entered that family that night, we were dating for another four years before I popped the question to him. He squealed in delight, and we married a few months after, Darrian, Fred, and Areum our flower kids, his friend Jinyoung being his best man, Nari and her wife being my best women. If my mama could see me now, I wonder if she would smile and be proud. For I’m happy now, with Yugyeom, and his three little ones, his vampire qualities not even bothering me, even if he does drink too much from me. Thankfully, he knows how to drink properly and always wipes his mouth afterward. Darrian is always the best dressed no matter the occasion, Fred likes to make people laugh, and Areum is our little dancing queen. Damned and determined to take over her Daddy’s company, Darrian always goes shopping with me, and Fred likes to write little letters for people. And he has a crush on the jock in his school, learning how to write love letters from looking at ours. Which we still write everyday to each other, reminding each other constantly of the love we have for one another.

Yugyeom is the man of my dreams and to think that after all that time, I finally ended up with him, makes my heart flutter to this day. Even though we have been married for three years now, he still makes my heart forget how to function. I always tell him this, and how no matter that he is a vampire that I love him dearly, and nothing could ever change that. Waking up to him, brings a smile to my face, without even trying he makes me smile. I’m glad that love in the end decided to treat me right, letting me have this, for as often as she is a cruel mistress, she is a kind woman when you treat her right, and she will never lead you down the wrong path. She does just right in my books now, I say as I carefully brush my fingers through Yugyeom’s hair, and kiss his nose. Love gave me hope, a family, and love all over again, and for that I’m thankful.

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mactuna · 5 years

Text

ᘻᖻ ᕵᕲ᙭101 ᕵᓰᑢᖽᐸS ᖇᘿᗩᑢᖶ!!

↠ summary: basically, how my top11 pdx101 picks would react to you getting hit on and 100% in ABSOLUTELY NO PARTICULAR ORDER!!!

↠ starring: kim sihoon, song hyeongjun, son dongpyo, ham wonjin, lee taeseung, choi suhwan, kim yohan, hidaka mahiro, kang seokhwa, wei zi yue, kim wooseok

𝒦𝒾𝓂 𝒮𝒾𝒽𝑜𝑜𝓃

You and Sihoon had been taking out your little brothers out to the arcade to just relax for a bit. But then, he had to go pee really badly, leaving you to watch the boys play Just Dance. Not even five seconds later once he was gone, a tall-looking guy appeared from literal nowhere.

"Hello, beautiful lady! My name's Eunsang. Care to tell me yours?"

"No. Goodbye."

Rolling your eyes, you diverted your attention back to your little brother, who was currently losing pretty badly to Sihoon's brother. To your annoyance, Eunsang moved again to block your view. Freaking stupidhead was obviously clueless on how to take a card of rejection.

"Not until I get your name, pretty lady."

"You are so-"

"ANNOYING!!! GET AWAY FROM MY SISTER!!"

Trying not to laugh, you let your six-year-old brother be your knight in shining armor, with his arms folded across his chest and frown on.

"I would just like your sister's name, little dude."

"I don't think she likes you very much."

"And I 100% do not approve."

Sihoon's brother joined in on the fun too, threatening to break your stoic facade.

"I think you should listen to them, dude."

Smiling at the familiar voice, you eased into the comfort of Sihoon's arm around your waist, looking up at his pouty face. Rolling his eyes, he pecked your lips before waving the other guy away. Who finally took the hint to scram. Once he was gone, you let out your giggles as the three boys hugged you tightly. Sihoon grinned, kissing your forehead.

"The other stupudhead boys won't ever get you while I'm still around!"

Laughing, you kissed the tops of their three heads.

"Glad to know I have three knights to protect me then."

𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓗𝔂𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓳𝓾𝓷

For the love of all things good in the world, all you had wanted was to get your ice cream in peace today. Was the world against you? 200% yes. Which is why you and Hyeongjun awkwardly stood in front of the cashier lady, who would not stop ranting about pretty you were and how much she would love to kiss you. The worst part was that you were both still minors so you couldn’t physically leave until she dismissed you. And there wasn’t anyone in line behind you guys either. So essentially you were doomed. But as the lady just kept on talking, you felt Hyeongjun’s grip of your hand slowly getting tighter and tighter. Looking out of the corner of your eye, you saw his lip beginning to stick out in an angry pout. Until finally, he took a deep breath to get all the oxygen necessary to counter the lady with his speech. With his dialect.

“Excuse me, ma’am? Please stop talking about my girlfriend like that, because it’s making us feel super uncomfortable. And as her boyfriend, I really, really don’t appreciate someone else talking about kissing her. Ok so, bye!”

Grabbing your hand, Hyeongjun basically dragged out the door and all the way to the park.

“Hyeongjun? Are-”

Falling onto the bench, he sat there breathing hard and looking stunned.

“Oh my god that was so scary. Oh, what we going to do?!! Did I seem manly?? Oh my god she was so weird… But that was so scary!”

Laughing, you hugged him tightly. Your poor baby looked like he was about to cry from being stressed about being manly enough to scare the weird lady away. Leaning closer to you, he kissed the side of your head and smiled with your next words.

“Yes Hyeongjunnie, you were very manly.”

“Phew!”

𝓢𝓸𝓷 𝓓𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓹𝔂𝓸

“Son Dongpyo?”

The nurse called out, scanning the room for the boy. Nudging him with you shoulder, you shook him awake gently.

“Pyo, it’s your turn to get checked out by the doctor.”

He woke up, looking super dazed and confused.

“Huh? What? Okay.”

Trudging forward, he disappeared behind the door, but not without a little wave.

“Don’t leave without me, okay? I won’t take too long!”

“Okay!”

With a soft sigh, you made your way to the espresso machine. You were in dire need of one since it was finals week. You were supposed to be studying at home, but Dongpyo was afraid of going to the doctor’s alone, so you had agreed to go with him. You were adding the condensed milk when a voice startled you.

“Hey, wanna make me a cup too?”

Turning around, you saw a boy that literally looked like a mix of literally all the visuals of all the idol groups that you could shink of, stood, looking blank minus the spark of hope in his eyes.

“Can I help you?”

“Um, I just wanted to get a cup of coffee. Sorry about that…”

“No worries! I’m Y/N. And you are?”

“Kim Mingyu. Thanks!”

“So what brings you here?”

“Oh, um, I came to drop off my sister’s lunch since she forgot it at home.”

You were surprised, to say the least. Because you knew that your brother would rather let you starve than make the 15-minute drive to drop it off. But before you could reply, you were snatched away, nearly dropping your beloved espresso in the process.

“Son Dongpyo! What the heck do you think you’re doing?!”

You glared at him, but his bear-like back hug wasn’t loosening anytime soon. The stupidhead wasn’t even looking at you, but was glaring at the confused boy in front of you.

“Ah, my mistake. Sorry about that! I’ll be going now…”

He quickly left for the other side of the waiting room, red in the face, while Dongpyo went to check himself out at the front desk. Tapping your feet impatiently, you waited until he finished before dragging him outside to talk to in a quieter hallway.

“Dongpyo, look at me and tell me what that was all about.”

He sighed, exasperated at your obvious cluelessness.

“Did you not see the way he was looking at you?! How his hand was inching closer to yours?! How he kept checking the door to see if I had appeared?! Obviously not! You know, I really hate that you attract so many people.”

You just laughed, finally understanding the severity of the situation in Dongpyo’s eyes.

“Well, you’re the only one that I know of where the feeling is mutual.”

“GOOD!”

𝓗𝓪𝓶 𝓦𝓸𝓷𝓳𝓲𝓷

Wiping your tears, you and Wonjin stumbled your way out of the movie theater.

“The ending was so good!! But now I’m also super sad about it…”

(A/N: btw the movie referred to is Avengers: Endgame)

Wonjin nodded, trying to pull himself together for both of your sakes. He hated that he cried super easily, but you just thought that it made him that much more human. It’s one of the many reasons why he had fallen for you in the first place: your ability to turn any negative thing into something 3000x more positive. But his thoughts were interrupted when three guys approached, all of them looking like models. The blonde one spoke up first.

“So me and my friends noticed you during that movie, and we were just wondering if you wanted to ditch your crybaby, loser boyfriend to come hang out with us?”

Wonjin held his breath, hands balled into fists, as he waited for your answer. What if you did ditch him? After all, you had three pretty boys gunning for you. He wouldn’t blame you at all.

“No.”

By the nature of their shock, it was easy to tell that these boys had never been rejected before. Rolling your eyes, you pecked Wonjin’s chin, which instinctly made him pull you closer.

“He’s more than I could have ever asked for, so I suggest that you three should leave before I call security.”

Taking the hint, the boys scoffed and sauntered away. As annoying as it was, they still looked like models in the process. But once they were gone, Wonjin’s protective instinct finally appeared.

“Oh gosh… are you ok?! I’m so sorry… I should’ve done move to help you. You shouldn’t have had to-”

Cutting him off, you pressed your lips to his gently.

“It’s the 21st century sweetheart. You don’t always have to be the one protecting me.”

“But it would be more reassuring....”

𝓛𝓮𝓮 𝓣𝓪𝓮𝓼𝓮𝓾𝓷𝓰

“Trick or treat!”

Laughing, you opened the door for your dinosaur boyfriend.

“Oh? Does Taeseungie want candy?”

“YES!”

Laughing, you threw the whole bag of candy at him. Every since fourth grade ended, the two of you had gotten too lazy to go trick-or-treating, so it was your tradition to give out candy eat it in the most extra costumes and share tea. Rolling his eyes, he plopped down onto the couch with arms wide open for you to lean into.

“So, what do you think about Yuna’s pregnancy?”

You nearly choked on your M&M’s when he mentioned her name. She was your cousin, who was temporarily staying with you and your parents until her parents returned from their business trip. And neither yours nor hers knew about the baby yet.

“Shh!! Keep your voice down! My parents don’t know yet. Let’s just call it… milkshake for now.”

“Okay…? So what do you think about the milkshake?”

“I think she was being stupid for getting the milkshake so soon after graduating high school. She hasn’t even picked a major yet, so how the heck is she gonna be a mom?!”

He just sighed, rubbing your arm.

“That’s what I thought, too. But then I realized that it was her own choice, so whether or not she regrets it is something she has to live with.”

Right then, the doorbell rang, signaling the arrival of trick-or-treaters. To your dismay, it was some college freshmen. Aka, the boys from Yuna’s grade. And you knew exactly which one out of the four of them had gotten her pregnant.

“Trick-or-treat baby doll. But I’d like to make a special request for you as my treat.”

“Get away from my house.”

“And what if I don’t?”

Before you could even reply, Taeseung was getting out of his dino suit and pushing you behind him, phone ready.

“Lay a finger on her and I’m calling the cops. Please leave while I’m still asking nicely.”

The other boys ran for it, leaving Seungwoo standing alone on your front porch.

“You little boyfriend won’t always be around to protect you, Y/N. You better watch your back.”

Once he had disappeared, you slammed the front door closed with a relieved sigh, collapsing into Taeseung’s waiting arms.

“Don’t worry Y/N. I won’t ever leave you.”

Seeing him smile so gently at you made it hard believe the sheer amount of rage that you knew lay hidden behind it.

𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓾𝓱𝔀𝓪𝓷

“YES! I GOT A STRIKE! You better pay up, sweetheart.”

You and Suhwan had made a bet over 10,000 won on whether or not you’d be able to bowl a strike. And lucky for you, you had made one in your last set.

“Fine….”

Grumbling, Suhwan stole a peck from you before handing over the money. Much to your annoyance.

“Hey! That’s not fair! You aren’t allowed to get a prize for losing!”

Laughing, he stole another kiss from you. Much to your disadvantage, he knew that most of the time, you would give into his kisses.

“I hate you!”

“Love you too sweetheart!”

Right before you guys returned your shoes, he planted another huge kiss on your lips.

“EW! SUHWAN! Don’t be gross!”

The guy at the counter just laughed at the two of you as he put your shoes away.

“You guys are really cute, by the way.”

You smiled, touched.

“Why, thank you!”

But Suhwan totally took it the wrong way.

“You callin’ my girl cute?!”

Rolling your eyes, you dragged your mumbling boyfriend away from the counter, despite his endless complaints.

“But-”

“It was a compliment, you buttface!”

He was being nice and you 100% took way too much offense to it.”

“But-”

Before he could start complaining, you quickly shut him up with a peck.

“Relax, I’m still yours. Ok?”

“Ok…”

𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓨𝓸𝓱𝓪𝓷

“YAY KIM YOHAN!”

Smirking, he winked at you playfully before the referee blew his whistle in annoyance to get his attention. Snickering, you covered your smile behind one hand while all the other girls around you sighed with a hand over their hearts. They all believed the great Kim Yohan’s wink had been for them, but of course, you knew better.

“Hey baby girl, why don’t you cheer for me?”

Yohan’s competitor winked at you with a sly grin on his face, disgusting you.

“Uh, no thanks.”

“You will after this match.”

“Sure…”

But now you were afraid for Yohan. You knew that vengeance was a powerful emotion, and that combined with skill could be extremely dangerous for him. Already, you could see the arrogance building up in his competitor. Yohan was significantly smaller than him, maybe even scrawny. But you knew better than to underestimate him. But you frowned slightly, seeing the rage building up in him. Why? You hated it when Yohan got mad, partly because it scared you but mostly because you saw no reason for it.

“Yohanie fighting~!”

Your cheers just encouraged him to beat up his competitor even more as the referee blew his whistle to start the match. Before you knew it, his competitor was on the ground, Yohan standing victoriously over him with the referee holding his fist up in victory.

“KIM YOHAN… WINNER!!”

With a proud smile, he pushed through the screaming crowd, making his way towards you.

“Congratulations Yohanie- MPHM!”

Before you could get another word out, his lips were already on yours, quick and urgent. You were practically helpless in his capable hands, or rather, lips. Shielding you with his jacket, he dragged you outside through a back door that led to an alley where he had parked his car.

“Yohan, what’s going on?”

Huffing, he kissed you again, biting your lip.

“I really, really didn’t like the way he talked to you. Are you ok?”

“Yeah babe, I’m fine. What are your fans gonna say?”

“I care more about you than I care about what they think. So what does it matter?”

𝓗𝓲𝓭𝓪𝓴𝓪 𝓜𝓪𝓱𝓲𝓻𝓸

“Y/N GET DOWN FROM THERE!!”

You opened your eyes to see your boyfriend sprinting at you from across the park, as you still hung upside down from the monkey bars. You laughed, watching as he continued running, even after he dropped his phone. You were touched, to say the least.

“Y/N I’M NOT KIDDING!!”

“I KNOW YOU AREN’T BABE!”

As soon as he reached you, you released your grip and unhooked your legs, allowing him to catch you.

“Please don’t ever do that again.”

“He’s right, sweetheart! You don’t wanna mess up your pretty little face!”

“Talk like that about my girlfriend one more time and I WILL KICK YOUR ASS!”

The boy on the bench smirked, seemingly at ease.

“Or what, short stuff?”

Setting you down gently, Mahiro took off running after the boy, much to your dismay. Surprised, the boy literally ran for his life.

“MAHIRO GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE RIGHT NOW!”

“BUT-!”

“NOW!”

Rolling his eyes, Mahiro made his way back to you.

“But I really don’t like what he said about you…”

“Then ignore him and focus on me, ok? We are fine. I am fine. And I’m your girlfriend. Not his.”

“Ok that’s fair.”

𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓢𝓮𝓸𝓴𝓱𝔀𝓪

“AH! OH MY GOD! KANG SEOKHWA I HATE YOU!”

But all Seokhwa could do was just laugh at your pure terror and misery in the haunted house. He was afraid of a lot of things, like losing you, but things like this? Not so much.

“Haha, you are such a scaredy cat!”

“SHUT UP! OH MY GOD IT’S A CLOWN!”

The clown jumped out, waggling its fingers at and grinning widely at you.

“HI THERE BABY DOLL!! COME PLAY WITH ME!! I’LL TAKE CARE OF YOU!!”

You were too terrified by its appearance to do anything but cling to Seokhwa’s arm, hands over your ears. Meaning that you were totally deaf to the world and had no idea what he had said to you. But Seokhwa, on the other hand, was ready to beat the living shit out of him.

“Try saying that ONE MORE TIME to my girlfriend and I’ll kick your ass to YG’s compound!!”

The clown cackled, running away to scare someone else in the haunted house. Whimpering, you looked up at Seokhwa.

“Is it gone?”

Seeing you so scared made him feel like it was his obligation to protect you at all costs, especially from other preying guys. Particularly clowns and anything else that scared you. As soon as you were near the exit, he kissed your forehead, smiling gently.

“I promise I’ll protect you princess, don’t worry.”

“Protect me, my foot.”

“Hey! I promised!”

𝓦𝓮𝓲 𝓩𝓲 𝓨𝓾𝓮

“Here you go, miss! Have a great day!”

“You too, thanks!”

Grabbing yours and Ziyue’s cups of bubble tea, you made your way back to the table.

“Here you go!”

“Thanks Y/N! Wait, what is that?”

Grabbing your cup, he turned it around to see the note on the back:

call me soon, doll ~ (123) 456-7890.

Before you could stop him, he was ripping the label off your cup and tossing it away, before slouching back into his seat with a pout on his face. Rolling your eyes, you kissed the top of his forehead.

“What are you so worried about?”

“I hate other boys. Especially the ones that hit on you.”

“Well, that’s not the worst thing in the world to hate. But it’s not like it’s ever going to affect me, ok?”

“Good. But come here, there’s something on your face.”

“Where?”

“I’ll get it, you dumb cutie. Come here.”

Frowning at the nickname, you leaned in closer so he could brush off whatever was on your face. But to your surprise, he locked lips with you instead, keeping you in place by cupping your face gently in his hands. When you finally pulled apart, all you could say, was:

“Wow…”

“Wow is right sweetheart.”

𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓸𝓴

“Hey, I’ll be right back, ok? Stay here, whatever you do, please?”

“Okay, I got it.”

You watched as your boyfriend practically tripped over himself getting off of the bar stool, before smoothly making his way through the crowd to get to the bathroom. Hiding a giggle behind your hand, you turned back to the bartender, who served you up another shot.

“This one’s on the house, courtesy of the other guy down there.”

Craning your neck, you looked to see a guy waving with a lopsided smile on his face.

“Ah, say thank you to him for me, but please tell him that I already have a boyfriend.”

“Will do, miss.”

And right then, your lovely boyfriend appeared.

“Which is me. And I don’t like him.”

“Wooseokie, don’t do something stupid. Please?”

“Ok fine, I won’t bust his head. What do you expect me to do, instead?”

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed his arm and started dragging him through the crowd, out the door.

“Ok, you’re drunk sheep. Let’s go.”

“Mary? Is that you?”

Smiling, you pecked his lips gently.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go home.”

“But I want to beat up that guy~!”

“Too bad.”

________________________________________________________________

A/N: with their recent performances, this bias/pick list is bound to change so soon XD

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the-amour-scientia-series · 4 years

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What drives a story to continue? Is it the unanswered question, the unfinished quest? The long-awaited grand destiny that you have no idea when will start?

One of life’s greatest tragedies is when one misses out on life. It’s when you sign away your childhood to the attic after the split-second decision to protect the ones you love. It’s when you realize you were actually better off with the rebound than without. The hurt you brought on others in pursuit of your own healing. The common tragedy is that everyone’s gotta lose something right? So what happens if you lost everything?

What the fast-paced world usually doesn’t realize is that stories get told not because of the grand destiny, the dragon’s challenges, nor even the dame to be delivered from danger. They’re told simply because they were written. Someone took a step, fell, and flew. Someone set out to find the truth. The underdog rose when best fell short of greatness. It’s these stories of suffering that keep the bookmarks flitting, the mind wandering, the heart a-thumping. The fact that it was written is that it was meant to be read by someone, somewhere. Maybe not by you. Maybe not at this moment. But it never means the story is a waste.

The stories themselves are rarely all tragedies, regardless of how much planning is invested into them. But throughout my limited yet extensive existence in the stories of so many, I can admit my story cuts the closest to a rollercoaster ride.

As you can probably see, I always had a knack to think bigger than myself. Such even goes as far as jumping into (and winning) any academic competition or student election. Name it, I most likely got a medal for it, but I likely can’t show it to you without digging through drawers in our Awards Room back at home. Parents were never really much for displaying my or my sisters’ achievements. A simple abode is a treasure to behold, they always said. Besides, my then six-year-old prodigious brain had concluded, if they had been into framing our achievements, the certificates alone would quite literally wallpaper the whole house.

My apartment's wallpaper was a shade of powder-blue now, though, and was marked by newspaper imprints from where the painters too hurriedly abandoned their job. I haven't seen my parents for almost a year, after my still-prodigious yet sixteen-year-old brain had landed me a full scholarship in the reputable Preville Senior High. In a few months I’ll graduate and train to be a lawmaker in Central City, or an amour scientist in Allibourne Hall. I’ll be anywhere but here, and that was the plan.

What wasn’t the plan was to get dragged to the school’s annual music festival by my turbulent roommate and his fraternity friends. What wasn’t the plan was to stay there until late 10pm, and miss a long-awaited call from my older sister Desirée in Canada. What definitely wasn’t the plan was to bribe Nick with what remained of this month’s allowance, just so his friends would take their fraternity racket somewhere else.

And so that summer night found me, Deric Preminger, the black-haired immigrant and long-standing salutatorian, clenching fists in my pockets as I walked home alone, away from the noise of the musicfest.

I hadn’t even been able to gel my hair properly. Strands were already getting into my eyes so I held them against my head, exasperated.

Then I saw her.

Lorelei Marlowe-Monroe was marching on the sidewalk ahead of me—or was she skipping? Heel, flat, step; heel, flat, step; she was rhythmically gesturing as she bounced to a beat. I mentally kicked myself in the gut when I remembered how much we chatted last week about attending the musicfest together. I assumed she wasn’t as serious about it when we both went silent afterwards. Plunging into the noise of the musicfest hadn’t been part of any plan, but I definitely needed to apologize to her.

I called out her nickname. She didn’t stop. I tried her name but to no avail. I tried again, as loudly as the night would allow. She turned at a corner, and I saw why.

She was blasting music through earphones, just like what we do whenever we wanted to drown out our thoughts.

An uncalled-for realization surfaced from some regretful part within me. Was Lor also having thoughts she wanted to drown out?

Don’t think, I told myself, and broke into a run. She didn’t even hear the sound of my old sneakers slapping against the sidewalk. She didn’t even scream when my hand landed a little too heavily on her shoulder, in the process, pulling out an earbud by its cord. “Hey!”

What she did, however, was to stumble back when she turned and found our faces a few inches too close.

“Eric, hi!” she gasped. “Since when were you here?”

Seriously, this girl was hopeless against the world. Her purple-streaked long hair was pulled pretty into a low side-ponytail, barely obscuring the DON’T HATE, DON’T RAPE typography on her lousy shirt. But it didn’t mean she was street-safe in her dark jeans and doll flats, and everybody knew that.

She blurted when I said nothing. “Did you actually run after me?” Her green eyes showed no nighttime exhaustion, instead they posed the question like a challenge. I may have been caught with ungelled hair and cargo shorts, but I was never one to back down from a bluff.

“Don’t I look like I just did? I was calling for you before you even turned the corner! You should really stop wearing those earphones too much, you’re growing more deaf than you already are.”

She didn’t seem surprised by the sudden sermon. “Riiight. Say it again once you’ve done the same, you vile hypocrite, and we’ll see who’s even more deaf after a year.”

This girl was definitely in love with me. I felt an urge to smirk, and mentally kicked myself again. That was egoistic thinking. Battles of the brain shouldn't be fought by the heart, and Lorelei almost never let her guard down.

“Look,” I began, suddenly unable to meet her eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to join you at the musicfest. Nick’s troupe got the best of me when then they swung by the dorm to pick him up. I didn’t trust him with that kind of company, and I… well, I couldn’t leave him to go off in the night, could I?”

Then I found myself unable to stop. “I actually saw you again at the student council’s refreshments stand and wanted to join you instead. But you know Nick…”

“Do you honestly think I'm leaving this early because of you?”

“Uhhh…”

She scoffed. I had to give her the win, though, for calling out my ego with so bluntly a retort. Petty arguments had always been part of our online and everyday exchanges, but rarely do we cut close to asking about how we affected each other's aspects. Maybe neither of us were ready to see past the other's facades. Maybe neither of us actually knew what lay behind all the bluffing, or why we always chose to bicker with one another. It rarely ever mattered until now, so…

“Whatever,” I spat, defeated.

A contagious smile stretched across her eyes and she laughed, punching me lightly on the shoulder as she did. “Anyway, now that I’m here, is there anything I can help you with?”

Lorelei was really reveling in the attention, wasn’t she? Just because I wanted to apologize for leaving her out when we’d made plans about going to the musicfest together —wait.

We made plans to go together. Did I just set up a date with her? And did I—did I just stand up on her on that?!

Disregard ego, that was not how a Preminger kept his word. I kicked myself again, as hard as I mentally could. Words spilled out before I could stop them. “D-do you want to go back to the musicfest with me?”

I saw myself standing before her, the expression of one with twisted intentions.

Then I woke up to my body screaming down there.

(to be continued) Photo by Luca Severin on Unsplash

#amwriting #novel writing #novelist #My writing #writers on tumblr #writing #chapter #work in progress #wip excerpt #wip #romance #ya #young adult #fiction

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aleapoffaithfiction · 5 years

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"Love is not all about loving everything perfect, it is when someones corrosive nature is the only thing that glues you to them which you wished it were never there." ― Michael Bassey Johnson

“I heard you the first time ma.”

Curtains and dinnerware. She’d been going on and on about the need for both for nearly thirty minutes. I’d have to question my own mental capacity if I hadn’t remembered it. With the first day of fall already over two weeks behind us, she complained about the need to change all of the pale coral drapes in the house to be in accord with the season. She raved about multiple shades of red being the perfect color palette for the Brooklyn townhome she resides in but eventually changed her mind by randomly blurting out that it’s too early for things to be so Christmas-y and instead opted for brunt orange. As for the dinnerware, it specifically has to be the nearly five hundred-dollar twenty-piece lace gold Vera Wang Wedgwood set that she fell in love at Bed Bath & Beyond.

It took every ounce of energy I had left within me to get off of the couch, change my clothing, and drive over here per her request after an extremely loaded day at work, so the last thing I want to hear about is her trivial needs and yet...here we are.

“Well, I know it’ll be like pulling teeth to get you over here any other day this week, so maybe we can do a little shopping this weekend. We can pick up Celeste and take that new car of yours for a good drive around the city or maybe we can head back your way so that I can go to Walmart.” Or she and Celeste can take either one of their cars and go on their boring shopping trip without me. With mommy’s early retirement and Celeste’s somewhat loose schedule with her counseling and life coaching career, the both of them have more than enough time to be in and out of stores for the sake of having something to do.

Every now and then, they’ll pester me into joining them for the sake of the three of us spending time together, but I usually dread it. They’re the slow, look at anything and everything for no logical reason, shoppers who slowly stroll around the stores while discussing the most trivial things. And me? I’m usually trailing behind them while huffing and puffing in annoyance at it all. Celeste always deems me to be the annoying little sister who throws a tantrum when everyone isn’t doing what she wants whenever I react in that manner and I always let her know that she can kiss my black ass every single time she says it. There’s a lot more I can be doing on a Saturday besides walking around Walmart and looking at the same ol’ shit.

“Yeah, I guess so.” As she wiped her counter top in the kitchen, I broke off another piece of the piña colada pound cake she made with my fingers and dropped it into my mouth. Per the usual, the flavoring and moisture was to perfection.

“I know I thought you better than that. The spoon is right there.” I let that go in one ear and right out of the other. The only way I’d be using that spoon is if she had some vanilla ice cream to go with this cake and she doesn’t, because it’s the first thing I checked for when I arrived. She only has butter pecan. What is it with older people and butter pecan ice cream anyway?

“Are you still going back home for auntie Shelly’s birthday or are you still thinking about it?” She immediately scoffed with a roll of her eyes and began to fold up the wet kitchen towel so that she could toss it behind the faucet as she always does when she’s finished wiping the counters.

“I’ll probably be there. She’s yet to stop calling and getting on my damn nerves about it. I’ve never known anyone to be more obsessed with their birthday than Shelly. You’d think that she’s turning twenty-one years old with the way she’s carrying on. Oh, and then there’s the part about her wanting a Gucci bag as a gift. She has a lot of damn nerve. Why do people automatically assume because you live in America, that you’re made of money?” And just like that, with her frustration, came her Trinidadian accent in full swing. Though they’re only two years apart in age, both mommy and auntie Shelly clash like no other and yet will give you hell if you dare to test either one of them. Even with the complaints, I won’t be surprised when she flies to Trinidad with that Gucci bag packed with her belongings because she plays the big sister role well and spoils auntie no matter how much she nags about her ridiculous requests. My grandmother, Auntie Shelly, and mommy migrated to the United States when mommy was seventeen and though she’s been here ever since, Auntie Shelly moved back to Trinidad to be with her now husband, Uncle Winston. Supposedly, mommy dated Uncle Winston first and that’s what caused their clashing ways, but that’s a story that I’ve never cared to look into. That skeleton and whatever else involves it, can remain in the closet.

“Because people stereotype. It’s a part of life.” And that’s the truth. You won’t believe how many family members believe my bank accounts are on Oprah levels because my face is on television five days a week. I dread family events for that very reason. I’m all for putting my people on and have definitely extended a helping hand for the sake of granting people opportunities but there are so many people who have no interest in working their way up to where they want to be in life. How do you expect to be somewhere in life without a foundation under you? More than anything or anyone else, the esteem you have for yourself after having busted your ass for an achievement is magical.

“Celeste said that she’d fly down with me for the birthday party if I do decide to go. Why don’t you come too? It’ll be a nice getaway for you and I’ll be able to have both of my children with me.”

“It all depends on the scheduling. I have to warn them weeks ahead if I decide to take a trip because they have to reach out to other analysts or athletes to find creative ways to fill in for me while I’m gone. I can’t just pick up and go. If it’s a weekend thing, I can probably fly out on Friday right after we wrap up on air and just skip out on the Podcast. That should get me there by like Friday evening.”

“Sounds fair enough to me, for as long as you come.”

“I’ll look into it.”

“So how is work?” My eyes instantly widened at the question because it’s one she never asks.

“It’s going great, honesty. I can’t complain even if I wanted to. How can I? I have one of my dream jobs. I’ve always wanted to have a show on ESPN and now I’m apart of a panel for the highest rated show on the network. I’d be a fool to have a single complaint about that.”

“I’ll never be able to understand how sitting around and talking about sports all day long is so interesting but that’s who you are, I suppose.” And there it is; the condescending dismissal of what I love.

Being a tomboy was something that happened to be within my nature while I was a kid, I didn’t ask for it nor did I go seeking that identity. I had no interest in playing with dolls and doll houses, I wanted soccer and basketballs. The whole kitchen and tea party thing was more of my sister’s style. I urged daddy to sign me up for the Boys and Girls Club, every summer league in Brooklyn, and to buy me game systems so that I could play them on those rainy or snowy days when I couldn’t or didn’t go outside and play. Dresses were for church and Easter, as far as I was concerned. Jeans and sneakers were more of my thing and still are; I just sex them up whenever I feel like it because I’ve confidently come into my womanhood and can be multifaced in the way that I dress myself.

I compromised with her by learning how to cook, only because she would constantly drill it into Celeste and I heads that she refused to have her children go out into the world without knowing how to feed themselves, but other than that, all of my thrills were in exciting times like those NFL wildcard games to clinch playoff spots, Venus and Serena Williams coming up in the ranks, or that kid from Akron, Ohio who was deemed to be the greatest human being to touch a basketball while still in high school. Hell, I remember when all of the girls around my way had a crush on Coney Island’s own Sebastian Telfair, meanwhile all I wanted was to play a couple of games of one on one with the guy right in the projects where he, his older brother Jamel, and their cousin, former NBA player Stephon Marbury came up. Though us two girls were all they had, daddy would always happily boast and brag about me being his best friend because I was the best of both words all made up into one. As for my other parent, she refused to understand it and even now, the stubbornness still gets in the way of the potential for us to bond more than we do.

“I’ll never be able to understand how you sit around and watch all of those Housewives shows and yet I don’t judge that you do. If anything, you should be thrilled that I’m accomplishing my goals and doing something positive with my life.”

“Oh, I know you’re doing something positive with your life. I’m not disagreeing with what you do. I’ve told you many times that I’m proud of you, but you know that I’ve never been into those things. You are your father’s child in that aspect and Celeste and I relate more in terms of our interests.”

“That approach is silly though, because despite my lack of interest in a lot of the things that the both of you like or entertain yourselves with, I at least try to figure out a way to enjoy it for the sake of the both of you, but neither one of you grant me the same courtesy. I’ve offered for the both of you to come and visit Bristol and see the studios and you’ve yet to take me up on the offer. I’ve asked you guys to come to games or events, but you haven’t come. So, I stopped asking. What’s the point in wasting my time and setting myself up for disappointment?”

“Sarai, don’t be ridiculous. You really believe that I can sit through hours of a bunch of guys dribbling a ball up and down a court? I’m getting a headache just thinking about it.”

“You believe that I wanted to be a part of that purposeless and stupid debutante ball? I mean just think about how sexist and elitist the concept of it is. It’s a ball to present young ladies to the high society and most of all, to display her to eligible bachelors so that she can marry into a rich family. How shallow can you get with something like that? And yet I did it, for you. I hated every single minute of it, including Chase Williams, and his weird topics of conversation. I can’t believe you thought he and I would ever hit it off.”

“It was at that same debutante ball that your sister met her now husband.”

“Okay, so what?” I was seventeen at the time. I wasn’t worried about finding a husband. Shit, I wasn’t even concerned with a boyfriend. I didn’t date in grammar or high school. My greatest concern at the time was gaining acceptance into the undergraduate program at New York University’s Arthur L. Carter Journalism Institute. I wanted it more than anything else and yet during my senior year, I juggled trying to keep my grades as close to perfect as possible while obliging her erratic decisions for me. Chase Williams being my future husband was a failure, but my acceptance into NYU was a success.

Despite journalism being my major and broadcast and multimedia being my minor, I also had to choose a second major within the College of Arts and Sciences and I ended up going with computer science and economics. If the journalism side of things didn’t work out, I planned to go in the cyber security route or I was going to get rich or die trying by trying to be the next Mark Zuckerberg. Thankfully, journalism was truly my calling. I was accepted into the honors program during the spring semester of my freshman year and was given the opportunity to work on an in-depth multimedia piece over the course of one academic year that ending up being reported on by The New York Times. Arguably the best part of my undergraduate years was six rigorous weeks of a summer program in Ghana where I worked as a foreign correspondent. It was an experience that I’ll never forget.

“I wanted you to be a part of that ball to expose you to things beyond yourself. Sports aside, you were so caught up in just you. I believed you needed to see there’s a lot more to life than balls flying all over the place and the occasional outings with your teammates.”

“Yeah, that’s what family vacations are for and even when we did those, it was never anything I liked. I asked you for Knicks game tickets and you took Celeste and I to see Carmen at the Metropolitan Opera House instead. I asked you for a ticket to the U.S. Open and you took us to see Swan Lake at the American Ballet Theater. For my birthday, you told me to pick anywhere in the U.S. to go for a family trip and I chose the Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame in Massachusetts and where did we end up going? Niagara Falls.”

“You sound so ungrateful right now. This is exactly what Celeste talks about when she says that you throw silly little tantrums when you can’t get your way.”

“I’m not being ungrateful. You’re calling this a tantrum because I’m telling the truth?”

“Well, Sarai, in a lot of cases, you chose things that myself nor Celeste would enjoy so I tried to find things that I thought would interest all three of us.”

“An opera and a ballet show? For me? And even then, I didn’t even complain about it. I just figured out ways to enjoy it despite being internally angry that I couldn’t go to the places that I wanted to go. I had to get a summer job for that.”

“What about when I took you two to Disney World?”

“It was nice.” And it was. It was the first and only vacation I enjoyed.

“Okay then.”

“But, if we’re going to be technical, the only reason why I was able to see all of the things that I liked is because of auntie Shelly. I spent most of the time in the park with her.”

“Sarai, please. All that matters is we went and you enjoyed it.” In a gesture that she’s been doing in response to my complaints since I was a child, she waved me off with a roll of her eyes and turned her attention to the touch screen display on the right-side door of her brand-new Samsung refrigerator that I’d gotten her for her birthday. She threw enough hints out about the two thousand five-hundred-dollar state of the art gadget to convince me that it would be an essential part of her kitchen and I made it happen.

“Daddy would have taken me to all of those places though. That’s for sure.” I went to my first Knicks game with him. I saw my first home run at the Yankee stadium with him. We saw the Nets together back when they were still in New Jersey. We even went to a Jersey Devils game, though I wasn’t that into hockey at the time. In the summer time, we’d go stand outside the gate at the Rucker Park and watch the guys hoop while we enjoyed ice cream cones from the Mister Softee truck lingering on the corner. I had every pair of Jordans that hit the shelves and my poster collection on my bedroom walls? Unmatched.

“I’m sure he would have but he’s no longer with us and I’m not sure why you feel compelled to bring up what he would have done if he were.”

“I guess because it’s the truth.”

“Well he’s not here Sarai. I’m sorry if you don’t think I was a good enough parent for you. I had a roof over your head, I put food on the table, clothes on your back, and made sure you were in a great school. You had good birthdays and Christmas’. We went on vacations, whether you were grateful for them or not. I tried to do my best as a single parent so don’t come in here throwing it into my face what your father would have done. I did what I could and he would have been damn proud of me.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t a good enough parent. Daddy just understood me more.”

“Well guess what Sarai? He was my husband. You don’t think my time with him was cut short too? I miss him just as much as you do. While I understand that he was your everything, I don’t think he would want you to be behaving in the manner that you do. Parents bring children into the world with the expectation to raise them and then one day leave them behind to be here to make a legacy for themselves. Your father’s life was cut short, but ultimately, he was raising you to prepare for a time when death would happen. I’m not going to be around forever either.” The pitch of her voice suddenly increased as she leaned forward to align her eyes with my own.

“I attempted to break you out of that odd mold you were creating for yourself and to expose you to different things because I don’t want you to do exactly what you’re doing right now; being alone out in this world. You’re so hostile towards life itself and it’s such a horrible mentality to have. I’m surprised you’ve kept Taylor around for so long because all you do is push everyone away. You think your father would want you behaving like that? He would have given you a never-ending earful. I’m sorry that he’s no longer here Sarai, but Wesley isn’t coming back. It’s been sixteen years. You have to move on.”

The tears that were once burning my eyes, came trickling down the sides of my cheeks. Many of our conversations always end up here, with her making this point, and then dismissing any criticism that I have for her as me unfairly measuring her up to my father. It’s never been about that. I don’t believe we have a poor relationship with one another, I just know that it has the potential to be so much better than it is. It’s not even about the past, because I don’t have to bring it up, but when I do, it’s always to point out how things are still the same when it comes to her stubbornness about who I am, what I do for a living, and my interests. I’m not as extreme with my tom boyish ways as I used to be, but I’m also not a prissy girly girl either. I’m just me.

“Move on like you have?” She hasn’t. It’s been sixteen years and she’s never remarried. The government funded support groups helped with her coping skills but anything beyond that? It’s been a slow burn progress. When I do attend church with her, I see guys checking her out and smiling in her face all the time, but from her view, they may as well be speaking to a wall. She still wears her rings and his on a necklace that she always wears around her neck and there are pictures up around the house with him in them as if everything is still as normal as it was before our world came crashing down with his sudden death.

“Don’t worry about me and what I have going on. You’re still wet behind the ears with a whole lot of life ahead of you. Don’t waste your time by trying to be like me. You’d be a fool for that. Your happiness is somewhere out in the world waiting for you and it’s up to you to find it or accept it when it finds you. Dry your face.”

I could barely finish off the second slice of cake as my stomach dropped for the millionth time at the sight of the season ending injury that snapped Beckham’s ankle during their week five match up against the Chargers. The sight of him lying on the field clutching his ankle in agony as tears began to pour out of his eyes is still as gut wrenching as it was when I watched it from my couch yesterday and the many times ESPN replayed it as we reported on it this morning. It’s always disappointing to see a player injured but the manner in which it happened to him drew emotion out of me that I hadn’t expected and yet, I didn’t have enough courage to pick up the phone and check on him. I just…couldn’t.

How could I when I spent the last two weeks ignoring any form of communication that he attempted to have with me? His text messages had gone from being sweet messages wishing me a good morning and his own opinions on the segments from the show, to being filled with confusion as to why I refused to respond to him. He attempted to call me three times but I simply stared at the phone and watched it ring. I thought after the unanswered phone calls his persistence would cease, but he then reached out through a Twitter direct message where he asked me if I was alright, because he was worried. A day or so after that, I believe he’d gotten the hint that I was deliberately leaving him unanswered and he stopped.

I thought I would have successfully disappointed and discouraged him when I spoke on the conflict of interest between myself and any athletes beyond the professional setting but it all went into one ear and right out of the other, so I needed to go another route and ignoring him was that. In the midst of the necessary barrier I built between he and I, I hated that I would find myself looking at my phone in anticipation that he’d try again. I scolded myself for lying in bed wondering about him and hoping that he still watches the show. Last night, I berated myself for the tears that I shed in sympathy for what he’s going through right now.

It felt like the Giants were cursed that day. Dwayne Harris left the game with a fractured foot, Brandon Marshall and Sterling Shepard left the game with ankle sprains, and Beckham with a fibula fracture. It was somber in New York, especially for a team that wanted to redeem themselves after such a terrible season ending playoff lost in the prior season. It pained me to read off Harris being out for the season, but it completely sent my mood into a downward spiral when I had to state the same exact verdict for Beckham. As such an explosive player and someone who only gets sixteen games a season, excluding the playoffs, to play the sport that he loves, I can’t even begin to imagine his disappointment.

I spoke with Heather. When I reached out, he was still in recovery from surgery. She said it was successful and he’s okay.

I reached out to Taylor a short while ago and asked her had she heard anything about his surgery. Everything took place today at the Hospital for Special Surgery in Manhattan.

Okay, good. Thank you.

The remaining half of the additional slice of cake I was having went into the garbage. I then slipped into my jean jacket and grabbed my car keys.

“Ma, I’m leaving. I need to run somewhere right quick.”

“Will I see you this weekend?” I knew she wasn’t too far away. She was right there in the living room wrapped up into what NeNe Leakes has going on in her drama filled life.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Okay, then. Don’t catch an attitude when I call you.”

“I never do.”

As I neared the door, something within me told me to turn around, and I swiftly approached her and planted a kiss on her forehead. No matter how many disagreements we may have, that’s my mother, and I’m always going to leave her on a respectful note.

“Drive safely. Are you going to see a guy?” The gleam in her eyes instantly evoked the rolling of my eyes.

“Ma, don’t be ridiculous. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

My first stop was Scott’s Flowers, a florist I frequent when I feel like putting a brighter smile on my mother’s face or whenever an occasion calls for someone to receive flowers. They’re so familiar with my face that I don’t have to call ahead of time for most of my orders and today was of no exception. While swiftly flipping through a booklet of floral arrangements that weren’t impressive enough, I tossed it aside and opted for one hundred long stem yellow roses inside of a cylinder glass vase. In the corner of the room was an assortment of teddy bears that caught my eyes, so I chose the biggest one they had. I know if I had surgery, I’d want a teddy bear to keep me company. Scott slipped in a number of sly questions about who I was spending four hundred dollars on at this time of evening, but I avoided lying by diverting the subject matter. I considered grabbing some chocolates but I ultimately chose not to because I’m not sure if he likes it. The bottles of wine he raved about while I was on my way out of the door were pointless too. Wine can either be nice for a celebration or a painkiller for sadness, but it can’t be either for him because I’m sure he’s on a ton of actual painkillers.

“Tell Dominique I said hello.”

“Will do.” Yes, mommy’s name is Dominique. Mrs. Dominique Nicole Thomas-Nazaire. Trini to de bone.

The drive to the hospital was twenty minutes of bad nerves and conversations with myself that drowned out whatever Hot 97 had playing. I hadn’t even announced that I would be showing up and yet, here I am, in the parking lot, about to intrude on he and his family’s privacy as he recovers from surgery. I’ve always considered myself to be a thinker even though I think too damn much at times, but I didn’t spend much time taking into consideration all the things that could go wrong with this mission to do a good deed tonight. Who I am to even think that I may be able to slightly cheer him up with some tired ass flowers that’ll die within a few days, a teddy bear that his little brother will enjoy far more than he will, and two “Get Well Soon” balloons that I grabbed from a dollar store five minutes before arriving here? And I didn’t even take into account that it’s fucking me. I’m not Oprah known, but I’m known enough for people to make a narrative that is far from the truth if I’m seen here.

“You can be such a dumbass Sarai.” I panned my eyes over the parking lot. “Fuck it.”

I cleared my conscious as I slipped out of the car and retrieved all that I’d gotten for him out of the backseat. With the click of a button, I locked all of my doors and quickly trekked through the sliding doors and to the lobby’s information desk to get a pass.

“Good evening, how are you?” The short, stocky, and elderly woman warmly smiled at me while watching me manage to juggle the flowers, bear, balloons, and my purse.

“Hi. I’m well. I’m here to see Odell Beckham Jr.”  “Are you on the list?”

Oh. My. God. See? I’m stupid. How and why didn’t I think about there being a list? He’s only one of the most high-profile athletes in the whole fucking world.

“Um, I’m not sure.” I’m not. Obviously.

“What’s your name? Also, I have to note that visiting hours are ending soon.”

“Sarai. Sarai Nazaire.” Great. Just great.

As her fingers went to tapping away at the keyboard, I began to strategize my escape plan so that I won’t suffer in embarrassment when she tells me that my name isn’t there. While on my way out, I’ll trash all of this, because they’re obviously not going to make sure all of this gets upstairs to him due to it being a security risk.

“Sarai?” I couldn’t mistake that voice. As my head twisted to the left, Heather stopped squinting her eyes and brightly smiled at my presence. God decided to be gracious towards me today. I definitely have to go to church this Sunday with mommy. I’m not going to use cramps as a poor excuse like I did yesterday. My period ended Saturday. Lord, forgive me please.

“Hey Heather.” She adjusted the strap on her Chanel bag while approaching me and immediately engulfed me into a hug. Much like her son, I don’t know how anyone can ever become angry with this woman. She’s just one big ball of positivity.

“I’m so glad to see you. O’s going to be so happy you’re here.”

“They said that visiting hours are ending soon.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. We’re in good standing with the surgeon. Once you’re upstairs, no one’s going to bother you. I stayed here all night long last night.”

“How is he?”

“He’s alright. He’s in good spirits even though he’s in both mental and physical pain. I know that sounds like it doesn’t make sense, but it does to me. He could be a lot of worse, you know? As I told him, it’s a minor setback for a major comeback.”

“That’s true.”

“And the surgery went extremely well. The fix is as perfect as it’s going to get so I can feel a lot of weight being lifted off of my shoulders and his, even though he’s not going to admit that right now. He has a long road ahead of him before full recovery and of course him getting back to the athletic O that we all know and love, but the fact of the matter is that he’s going to recover. There are people who do not, so he’s blessed.”

“I’m so glad to hear that. When I saw his ankle bend like that, I literally yelped out loud.”

“Oh, so did I. I just about had a heart attack. Thank God I was here. My nerves would have been shot to hell had I been back home.”

“Were you leaving?”

“Yeah, I’m going to head back to the house to freshen up and get a bit of rest. He sent everyone else home about an hour ago. I was the last one hanging around. He claims everyone needs to go and chill out for a bit, but honestly, I think he was tired of the crowd being in the room. He couldn’t get much rest himself with everyone hovering over him and doing all of that talking.”

“Oh my gosh, well then, maybe I can just have this sent up and I’ll just head out. If he’s trying to rest, I don’t want to disturb him.”

“Oh no. Don’t be silly. Please go up, I insist. Even if it’s just for a few minutes, I know he’ll be happy you came by.”

“Okay.” Maybe I’ll stick around for ten minutes.

“I should be back first thing in the morning. Oh, and thank you so much for the words of encouragement you spoke this morning for he and the other wide receivers who were injured yesterday. You’re so awesome Sarai. Truly.” Yet again we were hugging.

“Oh, there’s no need to thank me. I hate to see players get injured. It’s awful.”

“Yes, it is. They’ll be alright though. I just try to think positive. I grabbed him a light dinner earlier because he’s not fond of the hospital’s food and he has some snacks up there too, so he should be okay. He knows to call me if he needs me. You can also call me if anything comes up. You have my number.”

“Yes, I do. I’ll be sure to call.”

“Alright then. I’ll see you soon. Have a good night.”

“Goodnight.”

As she walked away, I realized that she hadn’t given the receptionist clearance for me to be able to go upstairs.

Shit.

“Sarai right? I placed your laminated pass right there. I just need you to step back a bit so that I can take a picture with the camera and print one out.”

“Oh, everything is okay?” My brows raised in confusion.

“Of course. Your name is there.” She said it so nonchalantly, it almost went over my head that my name was indeed on his visitor’s list. I’m sure the picture she took looked foolish and that was confirmed once she passed it to me. How is my name already on the list?

“He’s on the fourth floor. The room is on your pass. The elevators are right over there to the right.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Flutters filled my core as the elevator ascended to the fourth floor. The feeling worsened as I stood in front of the closed door to his private room.

What will I say? If he saw this morning’s episode, then I don’t want to be repetitive with the words of encouragement. Then again, does he even want to hear that? I know I wouldn’t want to hear the cliché “it’ll be okay” after being told I won’t be able to play for the rest of the season. That’s not okay. Maybe I won’t say anything and I’ll just listen. After so much disappointment and a surgery, who wouldn’t want to vent? Either way, I came all this way, so I might as well go through with this. I’ll kick myself in the ass later on when I’m back home.

“Beckham?” I poked my head into the room. There was silence. As he lay there in bed, he stared up at the ceiling in deep thought until I interrupted him.

“Sarai?” He cleared his throat to rid it of some of the rasp as I stepped into the room and allowed the door to close behind myself. Our eyes instantly met and the glossiness within them sunk my mood even further. I could tell he hadn’t been crying but it was clear that the weight of all that had happened to him over the last twenty-four hours was on his shoulders like a ton of bricks and right now, within this moment, he feels something he typically never feels for himself; helpless.

“Yes, it’s me.”

“Wow. Flowers?” A bit of gleam filled his eyes and he chuckled at the sight of all of the yellowness in my hands. As I glanced around the room, I noticed a ton of balloons, two gift baskets filled with chocolate, but no flowers. “I’ve never received flowers before.”

“Really?”

“No.”

“Is it a bad thing?”

“Of course not. I’m flattered, honestly.” I found a nice spot near the window to place them down, so they’d be able to receive a good amount of sunlight and I placed the teddy bear on the couch just near the window.

“I figured I’d get them in yellow to bring some brightness around here. I don’t care what they look like; all hospitals are dull and glum to me. You don’t need that kind of energy around you right now. You want to hug the bear?”

“A hug from you sounds better.” It felt like someone punched a hole into my chest and knowingly squeezed my lungs once he said that. The hesitance was clear as my feet remained just about glued to the floor for a few seconds but I eventually began to inch my way over to his awaiting arms and laid my upper frame on top of his. With him laying down, I was only able to grip both of his arms as he wrapped his drawn-out arms around my body and pulled me close. The beating our hearts synced and somehow, I felt more alive than I did at any point during this befuddling day. A laziness filled me as the warmth of his body relaxed mine and the enthralling scent of his cologne coerced my eyes to close as we basked in the moment. The feeling his fingers lightly pressing into my back informed me of just how much he needed to be embraced and if that could give him just the slightest bit of comfort through this, I’m am willing to give him as many hugs as it takes.

“I ran into your mom. She said the surgery was a success.”

“Yeah, the doctor claims all is well. I have a long road ahead of me though.” Despite me sitting up to be able to look at his alluring face, I was still wrapped up within his arms.

“It takes about six weeks for bones to heel, but there’s a possibility it can be longer. We’ll just have to pace it. For the next four to six weeks I really have to chill out and keep my weight off of it as much as possible. They’re going to put me on a pain management protocol so I won’t be so dependent on the opioid medications which is great for me because I hate how all of that shit is making my body feel. I’m going to be in a splint when I get out here and I have to basically sit on my ass and elevate it ninety percent of the day. In about two weeks, he’ll take the sutures out and then I’ll get one of those boots that you can take on and off. I’ll be able to start slightly moving the ankle then and taking showers. They’ll do an x-ray in six to seven weeks to see how well the bone healed and if all is well then, I’ll be able to start putting weight on it and doing physical therapy.”

“Well, at least you really listened to all that he had to say.” I had to laugh at the way he easily listed off the way his life is going to be for the next month and a half. He didn’t sound enthusiastic about it whatsoever, but he’s certainly well informed.

“Well, yeah I did. I can’t take not being on my feet for so long. All of that sitting around is going to drive me insane.”

“It doesn’t have to. Now is a good time for you to find other things to entertain yourself with.”

“You know what’s crazy? Remember when I said to you that I was praying to God for more time to do things that are beyond the football field like spending time with my family, friends, and the dogs? Now look.”

“Well, I don’t think God decided to grant you that wish by snapping your ankle, but at least you’ll be able to gain some perspective about life in the midst of this.”

“Everyone keeps telling me that it’s going to be alright. Minor setback for a major comeback.”

“Well, I’m not going to tell you that.” His hands trailed down my back as he frowned in confusion in the same manner that I had been doing downstairs.

“What do you mean?”

“You snapped your ankle. You’re lying in a hospital bed. Despite what everyone is telling you, that’s not what you feel. This feels fucked up and pretty shitty. You’re out for the season and now you have to watch your team fight for victories without you. That feels even worse. So right now, it doesn’t feel like it’s going to be alright because it’s still all so fresh and you have the right to feel that way. Be angry, frustrated, hell, even cry if you want to. It’s alright to have those emotions because this isn’t easy. There will come a time when you do feel like everything’s going to be alright, but tonight isn’t it…and that’s okay.”

I don’t know how anyone uses those ridiculous and yet absolutely insulting adjectives such as diva, asshole, little girl, and selfish to describe this man. The majority of the time we see him, he’s covered up in a uniform and is defined by the number on the back of his jersey. For sixty minutes, people create so many false narratives of who he is based upon passionate responses on the field and his will to win. It’s beyond unjust because the person that I’ve come to know is charming, compassionate, and has elements of shyness within him. He’s composed, observant, and aware. He has a keen eye for detail, listens intently, and thinks before he speaks. He carries himself with his head held high and brings about an energy into any room he steps into unlike any other. He puts smiles on people’s faces, tells the silliest jokes to lighten the mood, and shows genuine concern for the well-being of others. He’s unique; a one of a kind Baton Rouge born royal who has made his mark and is continuing to do so no matter what negativity his naysayers speak.

“Thank you for that, Sarai.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Can I ask you something? You don’t have to explain yourself if you don’t want to. I’m just curious.” And suddenly I wanted him to let me go. I hate that he could easily feel the nervousness within my now tense fame. To soothe me, he ran one of his ridiculously huge palms up and down my back.

“Yeah?”

“Why’d you ignore me? Did I do something wrong?”

“No. You didn’t do anything wrong. Beckham, you don’t understand.”

“Help me understand.”

“This can’t…” It was me who broke his embrace as the door suddenly cracked open. With one step, I dashed backwards to create some space between the bed and myself.

“Mr. Beckham, it’s time for your final round of medication for the night. You should be able to sleep with this one. Are you feeling any pain?”

“Nah not really. The only thing I’m feeling is flips in my stomach and chills from all of the medication.”

“Yeah, those are typical side effects, especially because we’re giving it to you intravenously. Usually when medication is going straight through the vein it can cause you to have slight jitters, chills, possible anxiety, or it feels like there’s this rush happening within your body. I promise we’re not going to give you anything that is dangerous for you. We’re just trying to keep your pain under control. Remember you had surgery today.”

“I know.”

“At least your girlfriend is here to keep you company. She’ll keep your mind off of it until you fall asleep.” My mouth fell agape at her assumption and he giggled like a young school boy as she viewed his chart.

“That’s true.” If I didn’t have any sense, I would have beamed my phone at his head.

“So, this is morphine and your antibiotic. This should last you throughout the night, but I’ll be in to check on you. Do you have to use the bathroom?” She began to check his pulse and blood pressure.

“Nope, because I’m not going in that bed pan again.”

“Beckham, don’t be stubborn.” I had to butt in. He’s in here for an ankle fracture and he’ll be back for a damaged bladder if he holds his urine due to being too prideful.

“I actually don’t have to go.”

“Are you sure? Why don’t we try? I’ll get a pan.”

“I’ll step outside.” Their conversation was officially shifting into a privacy territory.

“You don’t have to step outside.” Beckham found her responses to be all too funny as I widened my eyes in disbelief. Uh, I absolutely do have to step outside and I’ll be stepping outside of the building if she continues with these assumptions.

“Nurse Meghan, I really don’t have to go. I’m okay.”

“What about number two? Have you had the urge yet?” And then it quickly became my turn to laugh at him as he frowned his face up in sheer embarrassment at such a question.

“No.”

“That’s normal. It may take a day or two for your bowels to open up but if it’s any longer than that we’ll give you a mild laxative to fix that problem.”

“I doubt I’ll need that.”

“We’ll see. Hopefully you won’t. Your blood pressure is great. I’ll check your temperature, insert your medicine through the IV, and you should be good to go. You need anything else for the night? I already showed you how to work the television. On the remote is a button for you to press to call the nurse’s station and I’ll be right here to assist you. You have water right over there if you want it. You want any extra pillows or blankets?”

“Nah. My mom brought me some from home so that I could be comfortable. I’m straight.” He lifted his tongue for the thermometer and within a few seconds she was jotting down his temperature.

“All normal. If anything should change, you know how to reach me.” I’m not sure why but my eyes followed her every move as she worked with the IV to properly insert the liquid within both syringes into the line. She was gentle enough to make sure she didn’t irritate his arm and the vein by pulling on or adjusting it.

“I do.”

“Alright then, I’ll check on you in a bit Mr. Beckham.”

And yet again, we were left alone. His eyes hadn’t panned back up to the ceiling like they were before I intruded on his thinking. Instead, they were directly on me while I leaned against the wall.

“You’re going to go to sleep soon, so I’m going to get out of here. You need your rest.”

“I don’t want you to go.” Why does he say all of the things that men don’t say but actually need to say?

“You’re going to fall asleep within the next ten minutes or so.”

“I’ll fight it. I want to talk to you.”

“You’re so stubborn.”

“I won’t fall asleep. Just stay for a little while longer.” How can I deny someone laying in a hospital bed?

“Okay.”

“So, I watched clips from today’s show on my phone. I couldn’t see the whole episode because I was in recovery and still under the anesthesia when it was on. Scott wasn’t there today, which made the show even better.” My laughter was louder than it should have been because that is one of my co-hosts after all, but gosh, he peeves so many people. There’s one side of him that deliberate does it for the sake of sparking debates and the other side is actually just his personality coming out to shine, often times, in the worst ways. He can be condescending, over exaggerated, and a large majority his sentiments causes our viewers to unleashed full on rants about him on social media but he is who he is and he’s yet to say anything controversial enough to be removed from the show. His disdain for Beckham, Tom Brady, Lebron James, and Antonio Brown never falters. We’ve all learned not to take him seriously whatsoever because if he were to meet any one of the three, he’d never keep that same energy in their faces.

“Yeah, Scott went on vacation with his girlfriend.”

“I see the way he looks at you. I think he likes you.”

“He does.” He flirts, he’s asked me out for drinks once, and his compliments can be overkill. I’m not interested nor will I ever be.

“You’re out of his league. He should know better than that.” Though he attempted to suppress it, I noticed the yawn and the way he attempted to pull the covers up over his body. I decided to help. If I felt the chill within the room, I’m sure it feels worse for him.

“How’s that?” I covered him up to the top of his shoulders.

“It’s great, thank you. So back to what I was saying, he’s out of your league.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. I’m sure he knows it too.”

“So, who’s in my league?”

“No one.”

“No one?” I didn’t expect that answer. I figured he’d throw in some joke about it being him. He’s good for a flirtatious moment.

“No one. You’re definitely in a league of your own, but I’m trying to work my way up to bring drafted in. With the first and only pick in the 2017 Sarai Nazaire draft, Sarai selects Odell Beckham Jr. from Baton Rouge, Louisiana and the New York Giants.”

“Shut up!” I knew it was coming. We roared in laughter because of that. He wouldn’t be himself without inserting some kind of joke into the mix.

“Sarai, you know after this you can’t ignore me ever again, right? You bought me flowers, a teddy bear, and balloons. You told me I could be as mad as I want. You were about to help me use the bed pan.”

“Oh, no I wasn’t.” The only way I would have done that is if it were truly an emergency and the hospital had not a single nurse within reach of him.

“Yeah, you were. You tucked me in. All that’s left for you to do is kiss me and then we can start talking about the rest of our lives together.”

“Go to sleep Beckham.”

“You go to sleep Nazaire.” This yawn came with his heavy eyelids struggling to stay open so that he could focus on me. He didn’t have the strength to say anything more. I looked on as he eventually drifted into the deep slumber that he was fighting against and the light snoring was a clear sign that he’d be out for the night.

The reclining chair directly next to the bed had a pillow and blanket neatly folded up in its seat and on the opposite side of the room was the couch. I had options and yet I chose to remain nearby. I’m going to assume this is where Heather slept. She did a nightshift last night, so I’ll do one tonight.

I gently lifted the yellow beanie hat covering his head just a bit and planted a soft kiss on his forehead. I, then, gave him a second one for good measure. As my eyes panned down to his slightly pouting lips, I mentally scolded myself for momentarily craving to feel them against my own. The man is laying in a hospital bed and yet I’m consumed with my own childish and temporary fantasies.

I kicked off my sneakers and curled up into the chair. I didn’t expect it to be comfortable but it isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. The cushion is soft enough to keep my back and bottom without aches throughout the night.

Lastly, I covered myself in the blanket smothered with his scent and propped up the pillow that smelled just the same right under my head.

“Sweet dreams, O.”

Within a half an hour, I was having sweet dreams of my own.

#fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #fan fic #odell beckham jr fanfic #odell beckham fanfic #obj fanfic

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fulcrumahsokaamidala · 5 years

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Saturday Spectacular #4

Happy Saturday!!! So this is me thanking awesome fanfic writers for their amazing work and all the time they put into their fics. ♥️ I want to recommend spectacular fanfic stories I read this week! ♥️ They are posted in the order I read them. All posts will be tagged #saturday spectacular fic rec

This week I read the gifts from the @olicity-fanwork-exchange (OFAE). I will mark which fics are part of the exchange.

Ride or Die by @someonesaidcake | Arrow | WIP

Summary: They say that life is a series of events that we can neither predict nor control... And then there is him. He’s a bit of an enigma. ~*~*~*~Young CEO Felicity Smoak is just trying to make her mark on the world, yes she's a little high strung and stressed, but it was what is was... until he came along. With eyes a girl could lose herself in and shoulder-tapping hair made for hanging on to Oliver Queen was reckless and carefree. Also, he rode a bike. He was everything she wasn't and he was a sucker for those sinful red lips and everything that came with them.*main story complete, now snapshots*

Always by @icannotbelieveiamhere | Arrow | One-shot | OFAE

Summary: Felicity and Oliver talk after being rescued from below the bunker after Adrian Chase set off an EMP which disabled Felicity's chip.

Did I Forget to Mention That My Dad is a Supervillain? by @laxit21 | Arrow | WIP

Summary: When Felicity told Oliver about her father, she wasn’t lying per se. She wasn’t completely honest either. It’s just that ‘my dad left us’ sounded better than the truth.

Or: A Series of one shots in which Felicity’s dad is a supervillain and we see how Oliver and the team finds out.

The Road Less Traveled by @oneofthosecrazygirls-fics | Arrow | WIP

Summary: Canon divergence/fix-it AU. Everything that happened in the series up through 4x11 happens as it did in the show and this fic diverges from there. Direct sequel to “Swear This One You’ll Save” and “Have Your Cake (And Eat It Too)” so make sure you read those first before reading this one. This fic is part of the What Should’ve Been ‘verse.

Broken Bones Lead Me to You by @spaztronautwriter | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: After an unfortunate incident involving a slippery slide and a toddler's snow boot ends in a visit to the ER for Oliver Queen, he's pretty sure he might be having the worst day of his life. Until he meets an intriguing blonde with a broken hand, that is.

Broken Bones and Porcelain Dolls by @tangled23works | Arrow | One-shot | OFAE

Summary: Felicity Smoak met Oliver Queen during a visit to the ER. Twenty years later, her brother's guilty conscience and a dislocated thumb lead Mia to a fateful meeting as well.

Home to You by @the-shy-and-anxious-fangirl | Arrow | Completed

Summary: Oliver Queen has never done what his family expected of him. He took a gap year after high school instead of going to college right away. He quit his fraternity sophomore year to join the student newspaper, switching his major from business to journalism. He became a photojournalist for a wire service instead of taking a place at Queen Consolidated. He went missing after six months instead of coming home for his sister’s twenty-first birthday. He survived five years of captivity in a war zone when everyone thought he was dead. He came home. But home didn’t have a place for him in it anymore. His parents were both dead, casualties of their own mistakes and a city they had turned against them. His sister was all grown up, the CEO of Queen Consolidated with a fiancé and a dog and a life of her own. Oliver didn’t belong in his old life, but there was nowhere else for him to go. He was a man without a home, without any way of finding one, until he stopped by the IT department of his sister’s company to get files off an old, battered memory card, and found a woman with curly blonde hair and bright, intelligent eyes chewing on a bright red pen and swearing at a computer screen.

Airplanes, Coffee and Deadlines by @hope-for-olicity | Arrow | WIP

Summary: Felicity begins working at a national newspaper where she has always dreamed of working. On her first day, she meets a very interesting photojournalist. The two will eventually work together but sparks fly immediately.

The Microchip Chronicles by CSM | Arrow | WIP

Summary: Post 713. Follows the next nine months of Felicity’s pregnancy.

and we're somehow caught up in a web of lies by inlovewithimpossibility | Arrow | WIP

Summary: After their encounter with the Count and Moira's release from prison, Thanksgiving is upon the residents of Starling City but when an article arises in the gossip magazines that throws both Oliver and Felicity under scrutiny, the two of them somehow find themselves caught up in the most elaborate lie they've told. What was supposed to be a relaxing week at the Queen cabin in New Hampshire for Oliver and a week celebrating Hanukkah and Thanksgiving alone for Felicity turns into a week at the cabin of acting, the Queen women and bubbling not-so-platonic feelings.

The What If Harassment Alternative by portlandborn | Brooklyn Nine-Nine | WIP

Summary: What would have happened to Peraltiago And our intrepid detectives, if Amy had reported her mentor captains ugly behaviors?

Three Generations of Smoak by @spaztronautwriter | Arrow | One-shot | OFAE

Summary: A look inside the minds of the three Smoak women when they are each twenty years old.

Semper Fidelis by @oliversmuse | Arrow | WIP

Summary: Oliver Queen is a member of the Bravo Squad, a team that specializes in search and rescue, covert infantry and translating foreign documents. He is known as one of the best and even though he is one of the youngest recruits he advances quickly. While serving he meets Lance Corporal Felicity Smoak, a young woman with skills in hand to hand combat. Despite the fact they butt heads they fall in love and soon start to talk about a future together. However, when her plane disappears on a mission in China and she is presumed dead, Bravo Squad searches frantically for her, only to find her plane and her bloody dog tags. Five years later Oliver runs into "Megan" at a coffee shop near that gym he has been running with his friends. She has lost her memory from the plane accident but has had dreams of Oliver and the Bravo Squad. With the help of his friends and team mates, can he help her reclaim her past and fall for him once again?

Paging Dr. Smoak by @laxit21 | Arrow | WIP

Summary: When Oliver Queen gets into a car accident, he meets Dr. Felicity Smoak. He had no idea how much a chance meeting would change his life.

Mint Chip by @smoaking-greenarrow | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: Three times Oliver comforted Felicity with ice cream, and one time she comforted him.

| ONE | (Oliver The Footballer) by @someonesaidcake | Arrow | WIP

Summary: Felicity Smoak had a plan; to save enough money to kick her monotonous job and start up the company of her dreams. She made good plans, solid plans, attainable plans. He was never part of her plan. His name was Oliver Queen, the reclusive Brazilian football star with a broken smile and a story to tell He'd never planned on her either.

Providence by @so-caffeinated | Arrow | WIP

Summary: Will Queen has struggled in silence in the year since he was shot. But when a shadowy crime lord known as Domino targets the only woman Will’s ever truly loved, fate forces him to confront his demons in ways he never could have imagined… Whether he wants to or not. Amelia Prescott has fought to take control of her life since learning two years ago that her personal and professional worlds were manipulated by others. But nothing can prepare her for just how hard she'll have to fight to set her own course, especially when her heart belongs to a damaged man and a crime lord threatens her every professional move... And her life. Destiny brings them together, but as chaos reigns and personal demons haunt Will and Amelia both, it may also threaten to tear them apart.

(i want to) save that light by @callistawolf | Arrow | WIP

Summary: What if one little thing changed in the history of Arrow? What if, instead of going to Laurel's apartment after discovering the extent of Merlyn's plans for the Glades, Oliver stayed at the foundry and talked to Felicity instead? This series of short vignettes explores some of the ripple-effect changes that could take place throughout the next season as a result of this one, fortuitous change.

"Time for a story" Drabble Series by @smkkbert | Arrow | WIP

Summary: This fic shows Olicity and their life as a (married) couple with family. Although Olicity (and their kids) are the protagonists, other characters of Arrow and Flash make appearances. It started as a drabble series, but developed more and more into a full domestic AU. Although some chapters are still drabble-like, there are longer storylines by now.

Love and Little Cupcakes by @christinabeggs | Arrow | WIP

Summary: Felicity loved sweets so much that she paid no attention to her love life. Until Thea Queen came into her store wanting fabulous cupcakes for her sixteenth birthday.

#saturday spectacular fic rec #weekly fic recs

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justice-for-shayla · 5 years

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The Shadow and the Soul

A/N: This has been finished for hours but I couldn’t post it without a title. The prompt I received (Many days ago) was Historical AU and Secret Relationship, only one of which is a focus for this part. I have a second part planned but it may need a third to wrap things up.

Word Count: 4000

A note on Historical Accuracy: The inaccuracy here is intentional. I will break all rules of history in order to steal the aesthetics of a time period, (in this case the Antebellum South, without all the nastiness. I’m not going to write characters I like as former or current slave owners, that’s fucking gross.) Don’t send me messages or write comments about how this isn’t true or wouldn’t work. I don’t care.

Warnings: Historical Inaccuracy, Civil War Mentions, Death Mentions, Melodramatic Period Piece Tropes, Smut in Later Chapters (18+ Only)

The locals called them leeches and parasites, the Northerners who’d descended on New Orleans in the wake of the war, but Aurelie never flinched at their hurled insults. She never flinched at all, in fact.

Long ago, she had learned that it was better to be seen as sweet. Sweet girls who never got into any trouble could get away with anything, because no one could imagine a “Sweet girl like her” getting up to any trouble.

Four years of war time had toughened even the sweetest girls, and Aurelie was no exception. Her once round cheeks had grown sharp and narrow when rationing had started, and her soft fingers had become calloused with all the times she’d pricked her fingers sewing up uniforms or burned herself on the water they boiled to bring to the hospitals.

Losing all three of her brothers had toughened her too. By the time they’d lost Henry, Aurelie didn’t even cry, only stood near her mother, somber and steady while her mother sobbed and fell to her knees. Henry had been the oldest, and the one she’d thought most likely to live, but even he had fallen, shot dead on a battlefield far from home.

Lucas had been first, the first time her youngest brother had ever been the first to do anything, and Jean-Paul had been right in the middle, as always. It had destroyed her mother, the loss of all her boys, and in an effort to help her regain her health, the family had decided to move down to New Orleans to stay with relatives.

Though she had said she was looking forward to living with her sister, Aurelie’s mother never seemed particularly excited about the idea, even as she stepped off of the train into the sweltering air.

Aurelie was neither excited nor perturbed. Her life up North had been boring until the war and difficult during it, leaving her feeling restless and purposeless now that it was over. Though being sweet had always been a lie for her, now act was heavy against her skin, itching like wool underclothes and cloying like a too-tight corset.

The only thing worth looking forward to had been the presence of her cousin, Eugene, the only young male in the family to make it out of the war. Aurelie sought him out now and found him lounging against a large tree in the garden.

“Is my mama looking for me?” He asked her, politely setting his pipe aside, though she wouldn’t have minded if he’d kept smoking.

“No, just me,” She said, taking a seat beside him and carefully arranging her skirt around her.

“You alright?” She had remembered him as an awkward and sickly boy, but he had come back a sad-eyed man, stronger than he had been before, but wounded in a different way. Aurelie never asked him about it, but she sensed that he was pretending to be well in the same way that she pretended to be sweet.

“You met Sidney yet?” He asked.

Aurelie groaned. “I’ve done nothing but meet Mr. Phillips. There are too many mothers trying to match us; it’ll be the death of me.”

“They just want something happy, I think. He’s not a bad one, you could do worse.”

She just shrugged. “I don’t care either way about him, and that’s just the problem.”

“Well, every surviving young man with any kind of money in New Orleans will be at your welcome party tonight, so if you’re ready to announce an engagement, now’s the time.”

Groaning, Aurelie gave up trying to keep her dress nice and flopped all the way onto the grass. “God, I’d love to make them happy but I can’t get engaged just to see my mama smile, Gene. I just can’t do it.”

“I don’t think you should, even if he’s my friend. You oughta wait.”

“Wait for what? For all the surviving men who fought in blue but live in New Orleans to get married to the other girls everyone’s shipping from up North?”

“Then at least you won’t have to be one of them.” Eugene shrugged.

“And what about you, Mr. Sledge, are you hoping to make your mama smile tonight?”

He rolled his eyes. “She smiles plenty because I came home. She only had one son and I came back. Your mama sent three and didn’t get any, I think she might hate me for it.”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Aurelie protested, “But you look like Henry, if she squints and turns her head right. I think you make her sad, but I’m sure she’d like to see you wed and naming babies after her boys.”

Eugene shuddered. “Not yet. Maybe not ever.”

Aurelie accepted this without question. If she’d had other options, she would have said Not Yet about marriage and babies too, but her choices were limited. “I oughta go inside and start dressing.” She shifted but didn’t stand, not wanting to leave her quiet moment with Gene.

“Can I ask you a favor, Rellie?” He asked, using the nickname he’d given her when they were children, before he’d mastered the pronunciation of her name.

“Of course.”

“I invited a friend of mine, Merriell Shelton. This isn’t really his type of party, so it might be nice if someone… helped him. I know he’d like you.”

“Why’s that?” For all the time she’d known him, Gene had only had one friend-- Sidney-- so the idea of him having someone else, someone who didn’t quite fit with the rest of their circle was intriguing enough on its own, but Aurelie fished for information anyway. She was hoping it might reveal something about this mysterious friend.

“You’re pretty, but you’re not soft. You’ll look him in the eye and not let him give you shit, which he will try to do.”

Aurelie smiled, picturing a bold sort of man who wouldn’t be afraid to make jokes around her, and wouldn’t flinch if she accidentally used some of the swears she’d learned from hanging around the nurses during the war.

“Sure, Gene, but only if you try to have some fun.”

Gene sighed and looked away from her, a shadow passing over his face, which he’d tried to arrange into a smile for her. “I’m doing my best, Rellie.”

She nodded and turned away, hating that sadness that clung to him like mud, but unable to do anything about it.

“Rell?” He called, just before she was out of earshot, “He says he’s got a way with women; watch out.”

Laughing, Aurelie tossed her words over her shoulder. “All men say that, Gene; I’m immune.”

Submitting herself to the terrifying ordeal of getting ready for a party was distracting, but did little to lift her spirits as she was pinched and pulled and powdered until she looked like a perfect little doll nestled on top of a skirt wider than most door frames. Her mother had picked the dress and her maid had picked the hairstyle, she could barely recognize herself underneath all of it.

“Miss? It’s time; folks are waiting.”

She nodded, stealing one last glance at her reflection and defiantly tugging one red curl out of its place and letting it hang next to her eye. It was a small flaw, but with no time to fix it, she would be allowed to keep it, and with it some semblance of herself.

The Sledge’s ballroom was packed with people, though the festive atmosphere felt forced and oddly turbulent, like someone holding a match next to a powder keg. It was obvious that not all the people in this room had fought on the right side of the war, and tension ran high as everyone wondered who would start the first fight.

Aurelie hoped it wouldn’t come until later. She hoped it might not come at all. She wished the boys in gray could all just go home and lick their wounded pride in private, rather than frothing about it at every society party people felt obligated to invite them to.

Though she’d only met a few of the assembled guests-- Eugene’s oldest friend, Mr. Phillips, among them-- Aurelie felt like she knew them all. They were rich and polite and would spend many hours making small talk and pretending that less than a year ago they’d all been trying to slaughter each other. Aurelie hated to pretend, but she plastered a honey-sweet smile onto her face as she swept down the staircase and into the ballroom.

Her eyes found the person who didn’t fit in almost immediately, and she knew that she’d spotted the friend Eugene had told her about. His suit almost fit perfectly, but even if it had been properly tailored, she would have seen his discomfort in it. This was not a man who spent his time at parties making small talk.

He had spotted her, caught her staring at him.

His gaze was intense as she stepped lightly through the crowd, greeting people and smiling shyly, always gently dancing away before someone could pull her into a conversational circle. She was an expert at this type of weaving, and she made it across the room in record time, only stopping when she was standing in front of the stranger.

She held out her hand, as much a challenge as an introduction. “You must be Mr. Shelton. Eugene told me about you.”

He took her gloved hand, holding it gently. “Nice to meet you Miss…”

“Aurelie,” She said, flinching slightly when he kept his grip.

“Aurelie…” His voice lilted over her name, reducing it to something smooth and melodic, completely new to her. “Nice to meet you.”

His wasn’t an accent that one found in most society ballrooms, but Aurelie loved it immediately. For a long moment they stood like that, with her fingers still gripped in his hand. She glanced around, sure that someone had noticed this odd interlude, but no one was looking at them.

“Have you been staying with the Sledges long?” Aurelie asked, trying to find a normal conversation with a man who was very, very far from her normal.

“Not staying with them; I’ve got a place in the city. Sledge invited me and I’m not one to say no to a party like this.”

She nodded and then impulsively said, “I might have said no if I could have.”

“Why couldn’t you?” No one in her circle would have asked that. No one in her circle would have had to.

The question made her stumble and answer honestly. “Because this is my job.”

“Your job?” He tilted his head, studying her.

This time, it was his intense stare that caused her uncharacteristic ineloquence. “It’s what I do; it’s what I’ve been trained to do since I could walk and talk. I smile and dance and make conversation with the right people.”

She sounded like a doll, or some sort of teachable puppet, and she inwardly cursed her idiocy.

He looked around, apparently unbothered, though new tension hardened his face when his eyes fell on a coupe of men across the room from them. “I don’t think I’m the right people, but I’m better than those two.”

He pointed to two classically handsome men, similar enough to be brothers. “They fought with the rebels and show up here claiming they were just doing what they were told. Cowards.” He spit the word, glaring at the two, who had noticed his stare and were looking back.

Flushing when she made eye contact with one of them, Aurelie turned away, hoping they wouldn’t comment on her impropriety in front of her parents. She felt that men like them had no business on the Sledge’s property, but her parents weren’t as discerning. If they had money, a decent name, and no wives, she would be introduced to them with the same hope her parents expressed whenever she spoke to any man.

“They’re staring at you,” Merriell said conversationally, watching them over her shoulder.

“Don’t stare back, maybe they’ll go away.”

“They’re coming over here.”

“Damn.” The word was barely out of her mouth when the men approached. Up close, Aurelie could see that one of them was slightly taller, and the other had a very square face, but both had a bitterness in their eyes and stance that made her immediately wary of them.

“Miss Aurelie; it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. We’ve heard so much about you.” The taller one said with a smile that looked like it had been carved into his face and a drawl like thick syrup, poured too heavily over his words and rendering them sarcastic.

“Charmed,” Aurelie said in a tone that indicated she wasn’t. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced, Mr…”

“Simmons. And this is my cousin Frederick Pierce.”

She nodded, allowing the conversation to stall in the hope that they might leave.

It didn’t deter them. “Is this man bothering you?” They studied Merriell with barely disguised scorn that made Aurelie bristle, though she didn’t let it show.

“Not at all!” She plastered on her best smile. “In fact he saved my favorite cousin’s life in the war, so I feel I owe him quite a debt.” She took Merriell’s arm in a slightly bold act that would send a clear message. *****I am not one of you.*****

This made those marble smiles falter on their faces, and Aurelie tried not to outwardly cheer for her victory.

“Most ladies don’t pay their debts with their company,” The shorter one-- Mr. Pierce-- said, nodding in a mockery of politeness before he and his cousin walked away.

Aurelie was fuming. “Those bastard sons of whores,” She muttered, glaring at their backs.

Merriell was laughing at her and a sudden flush crawled up her neck and into her cheeks; she’d sworn in front of him. She’d sworn in front of a gentleman! If her mother found out she would die on the spot. “I’m terribly sorry you had to hear that--”

“I’m not.”

“--I just got so angry at what they implied. The audacity of coming into my family’s home and suggesting that--” She paused, realizing that he was watching her pleasantly and seemed utterly unphased by the entire situation. “You’re not?”

“Not sorry I heard that. I kinda liked it.”

The flush burned even hotter, probably leaving her pale skin blotchy and scarlet under her freckles. “I…” She couldn’t think of anything to say.

He held out one improperly ungloved hand. “Dance with me?”

Any polite conversation she might have tried to make died in her throat. “I… Yes, thank you.”

Aurelie didn’t expect him to be good at dancing, and she was correct. Her massive skirt mostly hid his errors, and she was good enough to guide him through the rest without too much trouble, though she caught Gene’s eye and saw his sympathetic smile as he stood off to the side.

“Is he alright?” She asked Merriell as she eased herself carefully into a turn, subtly pushing hm in the right direction. “Gene, is he… happy?”

He looked at her like she was insane, bringing yet another hot flush into her cheeks. “No.”

“Of course, it was an idiotic question, I just… we’re worried about him. He used to smile so much, and he was much… brighter, I suppose. I don’t want to lose him too.” The last words slipped out without thought; they were inappropriately honest, but Merriell didn’t seem to notice or care.

“He’s right there.”

“He’s changed--”

“That shit changes you.” Abruptly, he dropped her hand, stepping away from the dance and leaving her where she stood. It was an awkward rush to go after him before someone noticed that he’d left. Leaving a girl on the dancefloor was an insult, and though she knew she had offended him first, it was hard not to feel the sting of it.

“Please, wait,” Reaching out, she caught his arm, once again surprising herself with her boldness. Though she had thought about it many times, she couldn’t remember ever having grabbed a man like this before. “I didn’t mean it like that. Everyone’s changed after the war, I know. I just… we all lost so much, I can’t bear the thought that he might not get better.”

“Better doesn’t mean same as before,” Merriell said.

“Of course it doesn’t. I’m sorry.” Ducking her head, Aurelie thought about moving away, returning to the comfortably familiar crowd with their predictably polite conversations. Whatever this was with Merriell, she preferred it to the artiface that surrounded them.

“Seems like you’re the same as you were before.” Perhaps he didn’t mean it as a challenge, but she couldn’t help but take it as one.

“You didn’t know me before,” She said coolly, “And you don’t know me now, so you’re hardly in a position to judge that.” She wanted to believe that he was somehow clever enough to see past the carefully constructed mask of words and behavior, rules and etiquette, that she wore constantly.

She met his gaze boldly, waiting for his apology or his next move, swallowing the pain that his words caused. &&&Just because you can’t see that I care doesn’t mean that I don’t care.&&&&

When he didn’t say anything, she turned and walked away from him, avoiding looking at where she was sure Eugene was standing and watching them, unable to hide the guilt she felt at breaking her promise to him.

She spent the next couple hours dancing with various men who were paraded in front of her by her mother or theirs, having the same conversation over and over as they did the same steps to the same dances, with few exceptions made for different songs. The men were, to her, utterly interchangeable, and her eyes drifted back to the only unique face in the crowd, before they would snap right back to her partner’s face, forcing herself to pay attention to whatever droll observation he was making about the weather.

When it all became unbearable, she stepped out into the garden, breathing the thick, warm night air deeply. Underneath the smell of heat and mud that permeated the garden, she caught a faint whiff of cigarette smoke, and considered investigating before its source stepped out of the shadows.

“Miss Aurelie,” He said, his accent once again smoothing out her name until it sounded more like a collection of notes than a word.

“Mr. Shelton.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” He said rather stiffly, after a too-long pause.

“You didn’t,” She lied instinctively.

He watched her, clearly spotting the lie.

“I have changed,” She said, daring to be honest in the dim garden, surrounded by night air that felt as heavy as a wool coat. “I never liked all this, but after the war I could see how pointless it all is. Now I’m… I’m so angry it takes my breath away sometimes. It scares me.”

“Makes sense to be angry.” He paused as if considering his next words. “You don’t look angry.”

“Ah, well, you know ‘Look like the innocent flower but be the serpent under it’,” She quoted, smiling at him.

He nodded, glancing away but not before she saw the confusion on his face.

“It’s Shakespeare,” She explained. “It… It’s a man’s wife telling him how to commit a murder.”

That made him laugh, and she stared, transfixed, at his smile until it had faded off his face. “You planning on killing anyone, Flower?”

The nickname brought back her blush, which she hated. “No, of course not! Though I wouldn’t be sad if Johnny and Jimmy Reb over there happened to not make it through the night.” It was by far the boldest joke she’d ever made in front of a gentleman, and she felt a rush singe through her veins when he laughed.

“See, before I never would have said that; I would have been too polite.” She told him, laughing with him and savoring it.

He nodded. “I’m glad you said it. Been thinking the same thing all night. I didn’t like what they said to you.”

A group of people passed the window nearest you, their voices carrying out into the night, and Aurelie stepped closer to him, into the shadows where she wouldn’t be seen.

She hadn’t been paying enough attention, and she ended up directly in front of him, only a breath away from being pressed against his chest. He looked down at her, his strangely reflective eyes studying her face in the darkness.

The polite, proper thing to do would have been to step away, to apologize and then to take his arm and allow him to lead her back into the ballroom, away from this compromising position. She didn’t do that, though the thought occurred to her, just like it always did. Just because she knew what she should do didn’t mean her mind was made up about what she was going to do.

Even though she was certain she knew what she wanted to do. “I’m different than I used to be,” She said, not sure if she was talking to herself or to him.

“I believe you.” His head bent lower as he breathed the words, so quietly she had to lean even closer to hear them.

At that point, she was too close not to do anything, so she lifted her lips the final inches they needed until they were pressed against Merriell’s. His hands started on her waist, brushing against the satin of her dress before one slipped up to cup the back of her neck, drawing her even closer as his tongue slipped between her parted lips.

She had been kissed before. She had done more than that before, with a soldier the night before he left, his blue uniform in an untidy heap in the corner of her bedroom. All of those kisses had been tinged with the desperation of a man who knew he was going to die, and needed one last thing before he could go.

Merriell had none of that desperation as he kissed her. He was slow, exploratory, and thorough, leaving her breathless when he finally moved away from her, taking a full step back.

“I can’t do this,” He said.

Aurelie stared at him, flushed, wide-eyed, and mortified. “What?”

“You’re Sledge’s cousin, practically his little sister--”

“He’s barely older than me!” She stepped closer, her blush now brought on more by anger than embarrassment.

“--He’d never let…”

“Eugene doesn’t let me do anything,” She insisted. “And he likes you! He wanted me to talk to you, to keep you company tonight--”

He shook his head sharply. “Don’t say that.”

“Say what?”

His hands found her hips again, pulling her close. “Don’t say you’re keeping me company tonight.”

The alternative meaning of her words struck her when he said them like that, with his warm breath against her ear and his hands strong on her waist. “Oh.”

Her lips fell open again, and he hesitated for the briefest of seconds before kissing her again. It was another perfect kiss, possibly even better than their first, but once again Merriell pulled away.

“People like you and people like me… They won’t allow it; you know that.”

Aurelie did know that, but she refused to admit it. “They don’t have to know.”

“You’re my best friend’s cousin.”

“You’re my cousin’s best friend,” She retorted, unphased.

“If he found out--”

Cutting him off, she kissed him again, savoring the feel of his lips as they moved over hers. “I have secrets already,” She told him when they parted. “What difference does one more make?”

Merriell still didn’t reply as he looked down at her, his face a mix of emotions she couldn’t decipher.

“Please, think about it,” She said, dipping into a slight curtsey before she left him in the shadows and reentered the ballroom. She felt warm and strange and powerful and scared, all things she had to tuck away into the back of her mind so she could pretend to be the girl they all expected.

Beneath her placid smile, she let herself relive every moment outside with Merriell, where she’d been allowed to act on impulse, to yearn and pursue and feel in a way that she never had before.

Immediately, her mother appeared to force her back into Mr. Phillips’ waiting arms for the final waltz of the evening. While she spun across the smooth wood floor with him, she felt a pair of eyes, burning into her back, and hoped that Merriell had made up his mind. She wanted her moment of freedom back, she wanted to be allowed to be the girl she’d been with him again.

Before he left for the night, he thanked her briefly, bowing rather clumsily over her hand. When he stepped away, she could feel a scrap of paper in her hand, barely noticeable through her silk gloves.

In the privacy of her room, she unfolded the note and read his bold, messy scrawl. Our secret.

#merriell snafu shelton #Snafu Shelton #Snafu Shelton x Reader #Snafu Shelton x OC #Rami Malek x reader #Snafu Shelton Imagine

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those-wings · 5 years

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They’ll Never Take Us Alive Pt. 2 - Bugle Boy

Synopsis: Being the sister of Captain America was easy enough when you were children. Follow him and Bucky around, try to keep him out of trouble, bug him, etc. As you grew up Bucky became so much more than just your older brother’s best friend.

Warnings: Swearing, Smut (eventually), torture elements later on, and some heavier themes that i will put disclaimers on when the time comes. so please 18+ and read with caution.

Chapter 2: Bugle Boy

“I’ll be back in a bit,” Steve called from the hall just before the door slammed shut. I barely paid the goodbye any attention as I spread out on the couch with a book in my hands.

I was so engrossed in my book that I didn’t hear Bucky come in the room. In fact i didn’t notice him at all until he sat down next to me. I slid the small fraying ribbon into the book and sat it to the side, then looked over at Bucky, who had a goofy smile on his face and his arm around my shoulder.

“Do you ever not have your face buried in a book?” he asked me, his voice barely above a whisper. Ever since we went to see Now, Voyager and we were alone this is where it seemed to go. It never made it past the cuddling though.

“I don’t know, Barnes, do you even know how to read?” His jaw dropped and he raised a hand to place over his heart. His mock hurt was plastered all over his face, just barely hiding the smile threatening to show on his face.

“Wow that hurt! I’ll have you know that i read a book in high school.” A small giggle fell from my lips, earning a smile from Bucky. I looked in his eyes and I saw something completely different from what I normally saw in them and I was too naive to have the faintest idea of what it was.

“You’re the most beautiful girl I have ever seen,” he whispered. The smile fell from my lips as I glanced down at his. I wanted to kiss him so bad, but I couldn’t. He was my older brother’s best friend, and Steve was a very protective older brother.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Barnes.” My words opened the floodgates and he leaned forwards and pressed his lips to mine. His kiss was full of need, almost as much as mine. All the built up tension and passion released into one mind blowing kiss. He pulled me into his lap, wrapping his arms securely around my waist. I felt light headed and I thought I could see the stars behind my eyelids. All I wanted for the rest of my life was to sit in Bucky’s lap and kiss him.

No matter how wrong I knew it was.

His hands grasped at my shirt, trying hard to bring me in closer to him, like I might slip away if he wasn’t careful. My hands slid deep into his slicked back hair. I tugged on it, earning a moan from him. I took the opportunity to sink my teeth deep into his bottom lip.

“Oh Doll, You play rough,” he moaned. he nudge me back so he could climb over me. “But i play rougher.” His lips met mine again, and his hand started sliding up my skirt.

My head was so far in the clouds I swear I could see Heaven.

The door opened followed by Steve’s voice. “I forgot my wallet.” Bucky jumped off me and tossed my book to me. He sat across the room in his favorite chair just as Steve walked in the room.

I prayed that Steve didn't notice the way my face was flushed or how disheveled I was. I tried to get my breathing back to normal, which was a tough feat with the way that Bucky was looking at me. His eyes were dark, and he caught his bottom lip in between his teeth.

“You would lose your head if it wasn’t screwed on, Stevie,” Bucky said, trying so hard to hide how breathless he was.

“It’s not like I ever have money to spend,” Steve replied, grabbing his wallet off the table next to me. Glancing down I noticed my skirt was hiked almost all the way up my thighs, which I quickly adjusted before Steve had time to. That didn’t mean Bucky didn’t notice. He hid his smirk behind the fist he leaned on.

“Why do you even need it then?” I snapped, angry about the way he just had to interrupt a kiss I had been wanting to finally happen for years.

He was very good at obliviously interrupting things.

“You enlisting?” Bucky asked. Steve was so serious about joining the war. He said it was his duty to serve his country, but neither me nor Bucky even thought he could get into the army. If he wanted to sign up though, he could be my guest. Just leave me here all alone.

“Yeah, i gotta hurry before they close.” he was so giddy with excitement. I wanted him to be happy, I really did, but I wanted him safe even more. He hurried himself across the room and out the door.

once the door finally shut, I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding in. I glanced up meeting Bucky’s eyes. His face was just as flushed as I imagined mine was, his hair looked like he hadn’t combed it in days.

Steve Rogers was the single most oblivious person in the world.

With a smirk Bucky said: “I want to kiss you more but I don’t want Steve to butt in.” I bit down on my tongue and tried to hold back a smile.

While I was only just a few years younger than Bucky, I seemed like a child in my knowledge on relationships compared to his. My actual experience with relationships was somewhere in between the two of them. A handful of kisses, and a date here and there, but I had no idea what I was supposed to do next.

Now I wish I paid more attention to the social aspect of school.

“What now?” I asked him. He looked towards me, eyebrows scrunched together, fingers tapping against his knee. An expression and a habit I had seen many times. He was thinking. It didn’t take long for his entire demeanor to change as the answer to his thoughts came to him.

“I’m taking you on a date.” He stood from his chair, almost knocking it over in the process. “Tonight.”

“Tonight?” While the idea of going on a date with Bucky was quite possibly the most exciting thing I could ever possibly think of, tonight was incredibly short notice.

“Why not? This is as good a time as any?” He stepped over to me, reaching his hands out and pulling me up off the couch. “I’m going to take you on the best date of your life.”

Being on a date with him already made it the best.

“Can we not tell Steve? I don’t want him to know, not yet,” Bucky leaned down to my level and placed a kiss to my forehead. Deep in the pit of my stomach I felt butterflies flying around. Curling in on themselves and tying a knot around my insides. I could still feel his lips there even after he pulled away.

“Of course, Doll.” He pulled me into him, wrapping his arms around me, his chin resting on the top of my head. I wrapped myself around him, melting into his chest. The smell of pine trees surrounded me, intoxicating me. “We’ll leave at seven. Be ready.”

Deciding what to wear on a first date was hard. I never had much money growing up, so i never had too many nice dresses. Except that dress. The dress. My fancy dress, the one my mother made for me. It was so pretty. Just a plain black tea dress, but the purple flowers embroidered on the hem completed it.

The issue was that Bucky had seen it so many times. I wore it to practically every dance I ever went to, I even wore it to mom’s funeral. I had nothing else to wear though. With a sigh I pulled the hanger out of my closet and set it aside for later.

I tried to remember how mom used to do her makeup. She always looked so pretty, and with luck i would still be able to do everything just as she taught me. I sat down at my small vanity, something else that was mom’s, and began pulling out what little makeup I had from the drawers.

Dark red lips, thin black lines around my eyes. As I dipped the brush in the cakey black powder I could almost hear my mother’s words ring through my head.

“Your eyelashes are so important. They bring attention to your beautiful eyes.”

Once I pinned my hair back in a few places, I called it a day. This was the best it was going to get. Hopefully it was good enough. Fully put together I stepped outside my room, taking a deep breath to calm my nerves.

“I’ll see you later,” I heard Bucky say from downstairs. That was my cue to head downstairs. I took a deep breath as I began the descent down. Each step became larger, like I would never get all the way downstairs. I was so nervous, the overbearing fear of not living up to the compliments Bucky had given me.

I swallowed my anxiety as i walked towards the living room.

“Where are you going?” Steve asked when I peeked my head through the archway. Bucky tried holding back a smirk, knowing that this was for him. I almost never tried to even do my hair. I couldn’t even remember the last time i had even tried to do my makeup, but here i was. All dolled up.

“I uh...I’m going on a date.”

“Both of you are going on dates and you’re leaving me here alone.” Steve put his hands on his hips, and it made him look like a toddler. “Are you two going on a date together?”

“What? No, of course not,” Bucky answered quickly. “She’s your sister why would I do that?” Bucky was a great liar, but even he didn’t sound convinced by his own lie.

“Who are you going out with?” Steve asked, his eyebrows raised when he finally realized something. That his baby sister is going out on a date with someone and he doesn’t know who it is. Steve looked to Bucky, expecting him to be just as concerned as he was. His lying skills finally kicked in and he crossed his arms and looked at me with the same expression Steve had.

“Yeah, (Y/N), who?” he asked. He wasn’t going to make this easy on me.

“Just someone I went to school with. He’s been asking for years, and I just finally gave in.” Steve and Bucky both gave a nod. Steve was okay with my answer, and Bucky was happy with my lying.

I certainly had done a much better job than he had.

“Don’t worry Stevie, I’ll walk her and make sure he knows how to treat our girl.” Rolling my eyes I turned to the coat hooks behind me and pulled a coat on. While my dress had long sleeves, I would never survive a January snow in it.

Bucky put his own coat on as we said our goodbyes to Steve.

My legs shook from both the cold and nerves all the way down the street. Somehow, despite knowing Bucky for almost my entire life and living with him, the idea of being on a date with him made me nervous.

We rounded the corner and Bucky threw his arm around me, pulling me into his side, and catching me off guard in the process. His fast reflexes was the only thing keeping me upright.

“Doll you look gorgeous,” He said, placing a kiss on my temple. My face started to turn pink, just like it did whenever he complimented me on anything. He placed his arm around my waist and pulled me up against his chest before leaning down and placing a long kiss on my lips.

“Bucky, everyone is staring at us,” I giggled. He pulled away just enough to glance to the side. The street was uncharacteristically busy for both the time and weather. Almost like they had all gathered out here just to watch us.

“Let ‘em. They all get to see that I’m on a date with the prettiest girl in Brooklyn.” Another giggle fell from my mouth as my cheeks heated up even more.

Everyone knew each other in our neighborhood. So when I was in high school everyone knew who Steve and Bucky were, even though they had already graduated. Every single girl thought Bucky was the cutest, me included. They would all be so jealous if they could see me right now, wrapped up in his arms and being told that I was the most beautiful girl in the world.

His hand come up to stroke my cheek, as he rested his forehead against mine. I could feel eyes on me, i knew they were staring, but i just didn’t care. I knew that someone would tell my brother, and I wasn’t sure what that would entail, but in that moment I just wanted Bucky.

I wasn’t surprised in the slightest when our destination ended up being a dance hall. Bucky loved to dance, and had even tried to teach me on several occasions. Unfortunately for him I had less coordination than my brother and I had stepped on his feet.

Several times.

When the band began their rendition of The Andrews Sisters’ Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy, Bucky took his chance to sweep me off my feet. He dipped me so far down my hair brushed the floor. I wasn’t one for big gestures, but for some reason when he did it, it made me feel alive. There was no one else in the dance hall to look ridiculous in front of. It was just the two of us.

The walk home was full of laughs, as well as Bucky refusing to let me move away from his side. I would have walked through the cold like that forever.

The walk wasn’t a long enough forever.

I opened the front door slowly, trying as hard as I could to keep it from creaking. We did everything in silence, trying to keep from waking Steve up. Everything from avoiding the step that protested weight the loudest, to shushing each other’s already quiet giggles.

“Hey doll,” Bucky whispered through the dark when we stopped at my bedroom door. I turned to him, searching for his features while my eyes adjusted.

“Yeah?”

“Can I give you a goodnight kiss?” I took his hand in my own and responded with a quiet yes. He pulled me flush against his body, wrapping his free arm around my waist. Slowly he lowered me backwards, my free arm instinctively wrapping around his shoulders. When his lips finally met my own the entire world stopped spinning. Time stopped flowing so this moment could last forever.

Being back upright felt wrong.

“Goodnight,” he said.

“Goodnight, Bucky,” I replied, before going to my room for a giddy, sleepless night.

Tags: @the--sad--hatter

#bucky x reader #bucky x oc #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier #i'm trying to remember my tags from last time #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #they'll never take us alive #if you're interested i got the title from a song by pierce the veil #it is also a very good song by set it off #mine

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until-theend-oftheline · 6 years

Text

Perfect Memories

Pairing: Stucky x Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1300ish

Square Filled: Stucky for @marvelfluffbingo

A/N: This is written for my own Scarlet Stucky Quickie Challenge because why not lol. And it is also my entry for @captain-rogers-beard Fall Into Marvel Challenge were my prompt was Nestled under blankets

Betaed by: the sweet @emilyevanston for betaing this one for me.

***My fics are not to be saved nor posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***

You burst through the front door and jumped up and down a few times trying to regain some of your body heat. You twirled around with a cheeky grin on your face when the two men walked through the door behind you. You had spent the day at the farmer’s marked finding the perfect pumpkins before going apple picking. It had been an amazing day, but now you were chilled to the bone from the cool autumn air.

“You clear on your mission boys?” you teased, making them both chuckle at your antics as they shrugged out of their jackets.

“I’ll make the hot chocolate,” Bucky grinned, kissing your temple before disappearing towards the kitchen.

“I’ll get the candles and you’re on blanket duty sweetheart,” Steve said, poking your side with a playful glare when you made a mark salute.

You giggled, standing on your toes to kiss his cheek, before skipping into the living room where you left the pile last night after movie night. You loved this cabin. It was where you had married the loves of your life a little over a year ago. This place held special meaning to you all and your boys were always completely at ease when you came here. It was their escape and place to just be Bucky and Steve.

“Watch where you’re going doll,” Bucky chuckled when you appeared around the corner with a stack of blankets in your arms, so high it completely covered your face.

“Little difficult Buck,” you sighed dramatically, making Bucky laugh that completely free and uninhibited laugh you loved so much.

“Well my hands are kinda full here Y/N,” he answered you and you knew without being able to see he was carrying three mugs of hot chocolate.

“Let’s see how good you are at following orders,” he teased, talking so close to your ear, you felt his warm breath against your skin and a shiver ran down your spine.

“Keep that up Buck and I’ll drop the blankets and kiss you,” you warned, causing Bucky to laugh again.

“That sounds like a reward, not a punishment sweetheart,” he grinned before calling out to Steve.

“Stevie. I got a lost Y/N out here that refuses to follow orders. What should I do?” you giggled, hearing the playful tone in his voice. You loved when Bucky was in this kind of mood. Both your boys deserved all the happiness in the world.

You didn’t have time to respond or think, before you were swept off your feet and into what you could only assume was Steve’s arms. You squealed in surprise, and your two husbands’ laughter echoed through the cabin, as Steve carried you into the bedroom, tossing you down onto the bed. It took you a few seconds to dig your way out from under the blankets and pout at the two cheekily grinning super soldiers looking down at you.

“I hate you both,” you grumbled, as they crawled into bed on each side of you. Steve spread out the blankets so they made a nest around the three of you, in hopes they would warm you up, while Bucky passed you one of the mugs.

Your fake grumpiness was forgotten with the first sip and you hummed in contentment as Bucky handed Steve his mug. The three of you sat quietly, enjoying each other’s company and nursing your drinks for what felt like hours. You loved just being with them like this and you ended up, leaning your head against Bucky’s chest was your legs rested in Steve’s lap. You smiled as you watched the two men’s free hands intertwined.

“Trade hands,” you giggled a few minutes later when the mugs where all empty and started playing with your hair.

“What? You don’t wanna get stuck with me?” Bucky chuckled but obeyed your orders causing you to roll your eyes, but you smiled when you watched Steve pulling out his drawing pad and sit back against the headrest.

Neither you or Bucky commented on his actions even if you knew he was drawing the two of you. It wasn’t the first time and it wouldn’t be the last. Actually, you loved feeling Steve’s loving gaze as he tried to transfer every detail he loved about the two of you to his paper. You suspected Bucky felt the same way, maybe even more so than you did.

“Doll?”

“Hmm” you hummed acknowledging you were listening as you leaned into his touch. You were one purr short of acting like a cat getting a head rub.

“Why do you love fall so much?” Bucky asked, and Steve looked up from his sketchbook paying attention, as he was curious for the answer as well. Not that you noticed, your eyes were still closed enjoying Bucky’s touch.

“I don’t know. A lot of reasons. I love the fresh air and the colors changing. It’s like every day has a new look,” you answered, tilting your head giving Bucky better access.

“I think it has to do with the memories though. I always went apple picking with my family as a kid and my sister and I got to choose our own pumpkins. Dad taught us how to carve them and mom baked apple pies with us,” you opened your eyes, leaning back against Bucky’s chest looking at Steve watching the two of you. You reached out to him and he instantly moved to rest his head in your lap, letting you play with his hair as Bucky wrapped his arms around you.

“My favorite season is summer. I hate the cold,” he grumbled, making you tilt your head and press a kiss to his jaw. Bucky instantly relaxed smiling down at both of you, as he continued talking more softly. “Stevie and I went to Coney Island every summer too. We didn’t have much back then so it was a treat. Remember when we…”

“Don’t” Steve warned, making Bucky throw his head back in laughter and you send them each a puzzled yet amused look. You loved how well the two of them knew each other. They knew what the other was thinking with a look, and you sometimes wondered if you’d ever get to that stage with them. It didn’t really matter if you did or not. Being witness to and even being allowed part of a connection as strong as theirs was an honor and you knew they loved you as deeply as you loved them.

“Steve threw up after riding the cyclone,” Bucky grinned, pulling a face at Steve who playfully pinched Bucky’s thigh in return making him jump and laugh.

“You made me ride it,” Steve grumbled and you’re jaw dropped.

“Weren’t you supposed to make sure he didn’t get himself killed? Not help him do it?” You scolded, gently elbowing Bucky in the stomach, making him laugh even harder. You rolled your eyes deciding Bucky was a lost cause, you turned your attention to Steve.

“What about you?” you asked, tugging his hair slightly, making him hum in contentment.

“Spring. Because it’s filled with promise and because it was spring when I married the two of you,” Steve answered honestly. You felt your heart skip a beat before laughing at Bucky’s huff behind you. The emotion in his voice was evident when he spoke though.

“God Stevie. You’re such a sap,” he grumbled and you laughed as Steve jumped up pouncing on you both. He peppered a laughing Bucky’s face with kisses, holding you flush against them both.

In that moment you realized that from now on every season was going to be your favorite because every season would be filled with perfect memories of the two dorky, sweet, loving men, you had chosen to spend your life with. They were your world and they made every day special in their own way.

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Stucky x Reader Tag Team

@emilyevanston @angelofwinchester17 @holyfuckloueh @sea040561 @serienjunkiegirl @feelmyroarrrr @holyfuckloueh @dolphinpink310 @evansrogerskitten

@smoothdogsgirl @roxyspearing @mizzzpink @all-my-favourite-things91 @blacktithe7 @valecitainwonderland, @badassbaker @slowlywithfreedom @grace-for-sale @thinkwritexpress-official @sebbytrash @jadalecki-jackles @esoltis280 @wildsageleon @mizzezm @yknott81 @mysupernaturalfics @caplansteverogers @alwayshave-faith @scarlettsoldier @sfreeborn @becs-bunker @docharleythegeekqueen @capsheadquarters @v-2bucky @wayward-walker @waywardpumpkin @rpyallyslow @primenumberscanbeintimidating @cd1242 @nyleveeee @mycrushisfunny @mogaruke

@tinyfistwarrior @scarlettsoldier @danijimenezv @maui137 @slowlywithfreedom @kimmiestrawberrykiwi @hellaqueerangelofthelord @katshrev @badassbaker @imanunbrokenfangirl @thisismysecrethappyplace

#mimi's fall into marvel challenge #stucky #stucky x reader #bucky barnes #steve rogers #bucky x steve #steve x bucky #bucky x reader x steve #marvelfluffbingo #steve rogers imagine #bucky barnes imagine #stucky imagine #stucky fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction

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crowkingwrites · 6 years

Text

Vicious (Ch.2)

Pairing: Ramsay Bolton X Reader

Summary: The story of Lyanna Baratheon, the trueborn daughter of Robert and Cersei, and the Bolton Bastard and what happens when they decide to take the Iron Throne for themselves.

Words: 2400

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14948298/chapters/35159126

When Lyanna was smaller, Cersei remembered holding her hand wherever they went in the Red Keep. Lyanna’s dark hair bounced behind her and she led Cersei to wherever she pleased. On this particular day, it was Lyanna’s own bedroom. It was much too large for a child her size, but she was a Princess, not just any high lady. Her bed was neatly made for her and piled with pillows and soft items like a doll that Stannis, her uncle, gifted to her.

Lyanna had her own tea table where Cersei would teach her basic etiquette. The wooden table had matching chairs appropriate for a growing princess. Tywin had gifted Lyanna the tea set on her second name day, hoping he would attend tea with her once she grew old enough. The septa could have easily taken over and teach her these lessons, but Cersei wanted to keep Lyanna to herself. She was a selfish woman, and Lyanna belonged to her no one else.

“And what do you say?” Cersei smiled down at Lyanna. Lyanna sat straight up and smiled.

“Thank you,” Lyanna said politely, trying to impress her mother. Cersei smiled, but touched Lyanna’s hand.

“Thank you, my lady,” Cersei corrected. “Always remember your titles. You are a princess. You need to know everyone and everything.” Her fingers brushed Lyanna’s soft skin. Cersei looked into her green eyes. She may have Robert’s hair and smile, but those eyes were hers. They were windows to her small soul. Cersei didn’t know what to expect from her first child. She was only happy she existed.

A small knock came to the door. A bit annoyed by the disturbance, Cersei stood up with a frown on her face.

“Enter,” she simply said. The door creaked open to reveal an old maester. His chains clinked as he tilted his head inside Lyanna’s bedroom. Cersei watched him exhale before he spoke. As if he was mentally preparing himself to be in the presence with a lioness. Cersei smiled. This was exactly the kind of power she liked the most. Not a single word was uttered, yet fear drove his actions.

“My Queen, I have some happy news to share,” he started, clearing his throat. “After our morning’s visit, I have come to a conclusion. I’m happy to share that you are pregnant again.” The maester smiled at Cersei, beaming in this good news.

Cersei nodded and with a slight smile she spoke a quick ‘thank you’ before turning back to her first child. Lyanna sipped at the war raspberry tea. It was still too tart for the young one, so she squinted her eyes and closed her mouth tightly.

Cersei offered her hand to her which Lyanna took immediately. This time, Cersei led them both to her bed. Cersei placed Lyanna on her lap and played with her hair.

“You’re going to be a big sister,” she spoke softly. “Are you excited?”

“Will he be nice?” Lyanna asked.

“He? How do you know it’s a boy?” Cersei laughed at Lyanna’s prediction. Lyanna’s small hands touched her mother’s belly. A quiet came over both of them. Cersei watched her small fingers feel the fabric and maybe something else underneath. Something that couldn’t be touched by hands.

“I know,” Lyanna said.

Lyanna stood tall and held her mother’s hand. Both wore nothing but black. Lyanna was right. When Joffery came into the world, he was a boy. Neither Cersei nor Lyanna could have guessed what he would become after that. Lyanna didn’t think she would be looking at her younger brother’s crypt so soon. Part of it felt like relief. The pain and suffering he inflicted on others was now no more. He couldn’t break Cersei’s heart anymore.

The other part felt like a growing anger. Not like a flower in a garden where things grew over time. This grew like a rumor or a lie told among the common folk. It spread faster than one could control and it grew into branches where one could not reach. It felt impossible and unexplained. Lyanna knew one thing: Sansa Stark and her uncle, Tyrion were to blame. It was too obvious.

Both needed to die.

Lyanna squeezed her mother’s hand once more before letting go. Her angry thoughts took her away from reality. She stepped one foot away from the crypt.

“Stay here a while longer,” Cersei said aloud. Lyanna stepped back into her same spot.

“I don’t know how you can stand here and do nothing,” Lyanna commented.

“I am doing something. I am always doing something,” Cersei grabbed her daughter’s arm. Both looked over the crypt. Too new to have a statue put in place, but the soil was already settled into the ground.

“Do you mean your eyes are doing something?” Lyanna asked, noting a single soldier who had kept his distance from them.

“Yes, my eyes are always watching, but for now Tyrion rots in a cell. His mind is constantly thinking of ways to get out when I have already killed him in my own mind.”

Lyanna knew her mother was more devastated, angrier, and more vengeful than anyone. Her mother’s anger carried like a heavy weight across the floor. Cersei held tight to Lyanna as they exited the crypt. Their black dresses swayed and brushed the ground beneath their feet. They walked in time and quickly. Neither of them liked to be in the presence of the common folk.

“You leave tomorrow, correct?” Cersei asked. It was an odd subject. Lyanna was the one to tell her mother herself of the arranged marriage. Cersei was angered, just as much as she was angered by Myrcella’s departure. After an hour with Tywin, Cersei left in defeat, cursing under her breath.

Another daughter sold like a common whore.

Tywin was right. As much as Cersei hated it, her father presented a good point. After Joffery’s death, they were losing the battle. They need allies. Lyanna was at her prime. Now is the time.

“I do,” Lyanna answered. “Do you think the North would welcome me?”

“With open arms and hearts,” Cersei spat. “Your namesake comes from the North.” Lyanna stopped in her tracks and faced her mother. Her eyes blinked and her lips parted.

“You’ve never told me that.”

Cersei’s eyes turned cold. Her eyes looked over her eldest’s dark hair and imagined a crown of blue roses atop her head. The, Cersei saw Lyanna’s eyes. The same green eyes she had. The same that greeted her when she opened them for the first time.

“Perhaps, it’s time you know about Lyanna,” Cersei led her daughter towards her own private chambers. The windows were open and let the sun shine into her room. It made her room warmer than most, but Cersei enjoyed the heat. It often agreed with her.

“The Starks ruled the North as you know,” Cersei started. “There was a young lady by the name of Lyanna Stark. She was Lord Eddard’s older sister. And she was set to marry your father, Robert.”

Lyanna sat in her mother’s favorite chair. It smelled of the ashes from her fire. A look of confusion swept across her face. The slow realization set in.

“She died.”

Cersei nodded. “She did. I don’t know how. Lord Eddard didn’t speak of his sister after he discovered her dead. At first, it haunted me. What true terrors did he witness for him to never speak of his dearest sister again? But then it angered me.”

“Angered you?”

“Your father was a dream to marry. I felt so happy until later that night. Drunk, disappointing, and awful, he climbed on top of me and only said her name. Your father never loved me. His heart belonged to a ghost.”

“So why do I bare her name? She’s not a Lannister or a Baratheon. She’s a Stark.”

“Robert pleaded with me for days. He said he wanted to pass on her memory. When I presented you to him, the first act he wanted was to place a crown of blue roses on your head. He loved you more than he had ever loved anyone else. At the time, I wanted to make him happy. So, Lyanna it was.”

Lyanna remembered her father. He held her hand and placed her on his lap during the cold nights. He would carry her out onto the balcony to wave to the common folk. She also remembered the first time she smelled too much ale from her father’s mouth and how sometimes he would go to bed with multiple women—none were ever her own mother.

“I am named after the woman my father loved.” The words were colder than Lyanna was comfortable with. She often tried to believe that her mother and father loved each other. She wanted to say that the love between her mother and father died, but now she can’t even claim there was ever a love to begin with.

“Do not doubt my love for you,” Cersei’s hand smoothed out hairs on top of her head. “I used to hate her. The woman he would call out in bed. The woman he yearned for. She is ashes. So is your father. You are flesh and blood. You are here. You are neither of them, and you are mine.”

“Even when I am to be a Northman’s wife?” Lyanna let a smirk go on her lips.

“Until the day I am ashes,” Cersei smirked back. “You are my child.”

A silence fell between both of them. The wind blew into Cersei’s chambers. It moved small leaves across the floor. Hair blew in front of Lyanna’s face. Cersei pushed it away and tucked it behind her ear. Cersei’s sad smile was almost seen by no one but her own children. She swallowed.

“I will miss you,” Cersei finally said. “Just as I miss Myrcella.” Lyanna’s bottom lip trembled. She stood up and wrapped her arms around her mother. Cersei’s arms held Lyanna together.

“I will miss you too,” Lyanna said in between heavy sobs. “What if I hate there?”

“You won’t.”

“What if you’re wrong and I do hate it there?” Lyanna asked. Cersei held onto her tighter.

“Then I will bring you back here. No matter the cost to me.”

Dawn was a beautiful time of day in King’s Landing. The sun’s rays touched the faces of the early risers: the bakers, the knights, and the mothers. It touched Lyanna’s face and gently warmed her cheek. She watched others pack her things into a carriage that held food, water, and ale.

The large horses exhaled. Lyanna could see the air expel from their nose. This particular morning was colder than usual. Cersei’s hand slid across her daughter’s shoulder blades. “I’ve brought you something,” she said to her quietly. “A wedding gift of sorts.”

“Mother, you’ve already presented me with numerous gifts.” Lyanna turned to see Cersei holding a red and gold dagger. The sheath was dominantly red, but the tips were gold. The blade was sharp and new.

“I never had anyone warn me. My mother died when I was young. Still, no one told me,” Cersei quietly explained. “The day he tries to harm you, use this. And use it with no remorse.” Lyanna took the dagger slowly and hid it among her red skirts.

“Who exactly am I marrying?” Lyann asked earnestly. Cersei swallowed and squeezed her daughter’s hand.

“Your sister was lucky. Trystane is a gentleman,” her eyes could not meet Lyanna’s.

“What does that mean?” Lyanna asked. She felt her heart drop. Cersei eyed someone approaching them. Lyanna turned to see a man dressed in red and gold like most of the Lannister vassals. His beard was salt and pepper, but it constantly smelled of cinnamon. He stood before the two women and waited for some response.

“Good morning, Aeron Payne,” Cersei spat. “What do you want?”

“Your daughter,” he smiled. “It is time to depart, my lady.” Lyanna shot a look back to her mother. Cersei squeezed her hand once more. Her mouth right next to her ear.

“Look at your husband’s sigil. Then you will know. You will understand what kind of man he is.” Cersei kissed the top of her daughter’s head and left with guards. Lyanna was left in a whirlwind. What kind of man was she to marry? What was his sigil? And why for fuck’s sake could she not remember who ruled the North?

It bothered her like bumps in the road. Every time she would feel a bump, the carriage would shift or bounce. The carriage shifted once more, and Lyanna’s side veered right. King’s Landing had shifty roads, but once the caravan was on the king’s road, everything should be fine. At least, that’s what Lyanna told herself.

From the carriage window, she watched Ser Aeron Payne ride his horse. Her mother never respected him, so neither did she. That was one of many things that passed down from Cersei to Lyanna. They disliked the same people. Ser Illyn Payne had been a pain in her ass, and so was his brother, Aeron.

Tywin appointed him to escort her to Winterfell anyways. He had been a knight for years, but his brother, the former King’s justice, always outshined him. Lyanna rolled her eyes and thought nothing else of the try-hard brother.

On the other side of the carriage rode Markus Lannister. One of many cousins in King’s Landing. His blonde curls and blue eyes usually gave it away. If it wasn’t for his physical looks, it was his attitude. Lyanna always told her ladies-in-waiting that the Lannister knights and squires were arrogant, but that Markus was the worst of them all. He always did his job well. Markus become Lyanna’s personal guard when she was only ten, and Cersei deemed it okay for her to roam around as she pleased, as long as her older cousin was there beside her.

Then a saying started to float around the castle.

‘Wherever the doe goes, so does the lion.’

Markus was more than a personal guard and a cousin. When times of trouble or confusion came, Markus often guided her. Much like how Ser Gregor guided and reassured Cersei. His presence always helped.

Lyanna sat back in the carriage seat and relaxed. The North was a long way from home. This was going to be a long ride.

Taglist: @angelicshinigami @sugarwastaken @carilov09@disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @i-theredqueen @sleepylunarwolf@trashpandabarnes @loki-0fasgard @boltonblade @sophiaescape

#ramsay bolton #ramsay snow #ramsay imagine #ramsay x reader #ramsay bolton x reader #ramsay bolton x oc #vicious #game of thrones #got #game of thrones fanfic #game of thrones imagine

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aardvark-123 · 6 years

Text

Gensokyo Festival Day 7: Kaguya’s Sacrifice

My fairly dramatic take on Lunarian politics, including Lord Tsukiyomi in the flesh. I tried to make him less of a moustache-twirling maniac and more of a well-intentioned maniac without a moustache. If he had a moustache, I don’t think he would twirl it. He’s still an evil git, though, at the end of the day; poor Kaguya deserves much better.

Lord Watatsuki no Tsukiyomi no Mikoto paced up and down the bridge of the Crescendo-class dreadnought. His metal shoes tapped out a slow rhythm on the deck, a steady background noise for the fear in Kaguya's heart. She'd seen the god of the moon this calm and polite only once before, and that had been the day of her banishment.

"So," Tsukiyomi said at last, "you have come before me to plead for mercy. After smothering yourself in the deathly impurity of immortality, rejecting the paradise I so generously offered you, housing convicts and deserters who threw my kindness in my face and manipulating my own two daughters into concealing you, you come before me. And you ask politely for me to call off the assault on your little garden of earthly sin."

"Um." Kaguya gulped. "That's right, my lord. You see, Eirin and I have made a home for-"

"I know what you've done." Tsukiyomi cut her off with a dismissive wave of his hand. "You have allowed the seeds of discontent to spread throughout the Lunar Capital. Even in my own court, there are those who suggest that my paradise is less than perfect. One of them even dared to request permission to take a holiday to Earth! The fool! If I allow one iota of impurity to besmirch Luna, we will fall. I have no choice but to destroy what gives them their foolish hope of a somehow better society."

"But they're people, not just porcelain dolls you can turn into whatever you want! If they want to-"

"Oh, shut up! I've heard all that drivel before, and none of it matters. I will not abandon any Lunarian to an impure mortal life on Earth, no matter how they beg me to. My duty is to protect you and all the Lunarians, not to stand idly by while you give your lives over to ruin!"

"Right..." Although she'd been hoping desperately for him to see reason, Kaguya knew in her heart that Tsukiyomi would accept nothing less than total victory. "Well, my lord, I'm ready to come back."

Tsukiyomi's eyebrows rose. "Indeed?"

"Yes. If you promise to call off your bombers and leave Eirin and my friends in peace, I'll do whatever you ask. I'll be a good Lunarian." Kaguya bowed her head in surrender. "Whatever you want of me, you shall have. But please let me say goodbye to them first."

Tsukiyomi smiled. "You're finally starting to see sense! Good! You know, I had high hopes for you, Kaguya. You were once almost as great a warrior as my eldest daughter, and I thought you might make her a worthy wife. That option is probably closed off to you now, but, in time, you may yet become a Lunarian worthy of renown."

"Brilliant." Kaguya tried to smile, but her empty heart would permit nothing more than a strained grimace. "So, can I go and say farewell to Eirin?"

"You won't need to. She's coming with us."

"Wh-what?! But you promised-"

"I don't need to promise you anything, Kaguya. You have no choice but to obey me." Tsukiyomi angrily resumed his pacing. "Eirin is a traitor and a fugitive, and the rabbits who fled to her side are enemies of Luna. The rabbits will be executed in full view of their brethren and sistren, and as for Eirin..." he smiled. "I think I will immerse her in molten titanium. It should take her a few thousand years to break free, by which time Chang'e will probably be looking for a new companion."

"You can't! She hasn't done anything to you!" wailed Kaguya. "You heartless monster, I'm never going to be what you want! I won't ever stop-"

Tsukiyomi slapped Kaguya sharply on the back of the head. She flew helplessly across the bridge and smashed into the tactical console.

"Any more complaints?" said Tsukiyomi archly.

Kaguya said nothing. To be fair, her jaw was broken and her lungs squashed flat.

"Good." Tsukiyomi turned to the moon rabbits staffing the ship. "Commander, dispatch the bombers to Eientei. Captain, take us after them, and see about some molten titanium for Eirin. Green-haired chap, get someone in here to fix the tactical-"

"My lord, there's a, um..." The pilot cleared her throat. "Well, a shrine-maiden. In front of us."

"What?" Tsukiyomi peered out of the windscreen. There was indeed a shrine-maiden floating in front of the dreadnought, with her arms folded and a look of extreme annoyance on her face. "That's all we need... Give her a type-one warhead, will you?"

The tactical officer shifted nervously. "With what, my lord? I don't have a console..."

"Well, use your tablet, then! Honest to myself..." Tsukiyomi gave an exasperated sigh.

The tactical officer pulled a sleek tablet computer from his pocket and pressed a few things on the screen. A small missile burst out of the starboard missile turret and barreled out towards the shrine-maiden.

Reimu's wand spun through the air. "Indomitable Spirit: Duplex Deflect!"

The missile glanced off Reimu's shimmering blue barrier and went spiralling off to the side, where Mokou pounced on it and wrestled to gain control. Neither flying nor being dragged along, but in a very uncomfortable place in between, Mokou guided the missile towards the colossal battleship.

On the bridge of the dreadnought, chaos reigned.

"Don't panic! Don't panic!" the chap with green hair wailed.

"Brace for impact!" the captain shouted, diving under her chair.

"Abandon ship!" wailed the wing commander, running helplessly around in circles.

"Um," said the tactical officer, "should we maybe put the shields on?"

"For my sake..." muttered Tsukiyomi. He grabbed Kaguya by the scruff of the neck and stuffed her into the broom cupboard. "Why do we have a bloody broom cupboard on the bridge, anyway? We really don't need-"

An almighty explosion tore open the bridge and made a sizeable dent in the surrounding hull. Tsukiyomi was flung against the broom cupboard. He clung to the door handle with grim determination, ignoring the terrified screams of the moon rabbits being sucked out into space.

"Oh, no! Lady Eirin, the vacuum-breathing potions, quickly!"

Eirin tossed a heavy tote bag over to Reisen, who ran (well, drifted quickly) to the nearest rabbit as soon as she caught it.

"Did we really have to blow up the front end of the ship? It's such an uncivilised way to fight..." said Reimu distastefully.

"A normal spell-card wouldn't do much to twenty-centimetre-thick Lunar steel," Eirin pointed out. "We've got to move fast, though. They have fighters."

"So do we. Five of the very greatest," said Keine fiercely. "If any Lunarian fighter wants a piece of us-"

"No, no, fighter ships," said Eirin patiently. "With laser machine guns and proton torpedoes. We could beat a few of them in a spell-card duel, but I don't think they're interested in our rules."

"Then let's move fast." Reimu flew through the ragged hole and into the bridge. She shot out of the hole a few moments later, battered and trailing smoke. "I've found Tsukiyomi! Eirin, help!"

"Right." Eirin sighed deeply. She unlimbered her bow and aimed it at the ship in one fluid motion, and nocked a sleek, dark blue arrow.

"So, the prodigal goddess has returned to claim her love," sneered Tsukiyomi, drifting slowly out of the bridge. "You arrogant old hag. Did you really think you would get away with your treachery? Luna does not tolerate- Aaaaaaugh!"

The arrow had pierced Tsukiyomi's heart. He slumped helplessly against nothing whatsoever, because there was no gravity. "Y-you'll pay for this, you-! You... Aaagh... Wh-what have you done to me?!"

"I shot you," said Eirin matter-of-factly. "A god-slayer arrow. My own invention. You'll probably live, but you'll spend at least a couple of days wishing you weren't."

"H-how could you?!" spat Tsukiyomi. "I am trying... To save my lost children from... I hate you...!"

"Sure you do. Where's Kaguya?" demanded Eirin.

Tsukiyomi spat in her face.

"Fine, be that way. I imagine she'll be stuffed inside a cupboard somewhere, or an old sea chest..."

Mokou gasped. "Look! Over there!"

"Well, I never. The broom cupboard survived without a scratch!" Eirin drifted towards the battered metal cupboard, retrieved a mallet from inside her dress and started bashing away.

As soon as the door caved in, Kaguya flopped into Eirin's arms. "Eirin! Eirin! You came for me!" she wailed, hugging her as if she was never going to let go.

"Kaguya, my darling, thank heavens they didn't hurt you!" Eirin embraced Kaguya and nuzzled her cheek. "You're safe now. Tsukiyomi may be the god of the Moon, but even a god fears his old schoolmistress!"

Keine laughed. "Especially if she's a goddess herself!"

"Oh, Eirin..." sniffled Kaguya, burying her face in the goddess's shoulder. "I-I'm so glad... I couldn't bear to go back to that awful place. Thank you. Thank you so much! But... When is this even going to end?" She reluctantly pulled free of the embrace, eyes wide with fear. "Are they just going to keep hounding us until the world finally comes to an end, and there is nothing left for us bot to roam through an empty universe?"

"We'll have Chang'e with us," said Mokou.

"Of course. You'll have enough for a few games of mixed doubles!" smiled Keine.

"It won't come to that, though. No-one's allowed to kidnap my friends." Reimu glared at Tsukiyomi. "Eirin, do you keep in touch with the other gods?"

"What?" Eirin blinked. "Um, yes, sometimes."

"Good. I think it's time we had a word with his sister."

#gensokyofestival #touhou #silent sinner in blue #kaguya houraisan

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onceabluemoonwrites · 6 years

Text

Decay (Of What the Gods Know)

Summary: There’s a man hanging from the chandelier, candle grease dripping onto his dress coat.

Disclaimer: I don’t own Katekyo Hitman Reborn

FF.net | AO3

This was written for a ‘’wish you would write’’ ask by the lovely @metronomeihear ! You can find it here.

You can find my fic master list here.

The lovely poem at the end is by @icarvus and you can find the original here. Thank you so much for giving me permission to quote it!

Tsuna runs his fingers along the line of the (body) doll's cheek. "So pretty," he muses softly. "You would look even better in red I think." (like the blood you wore in battle, splattered along your clothes, woven from pure hatred) He turns away from the table it lay on with a flourish and throws the closet open. Where was that little satin number? The perfect red dress.

He did so love his Kyoya, after all.

It’s time for dinner.

Tsuna’s mama was a witch. A very fine one, indeed. She drew lines of power across his stomach, drew sigils of love around his throat, carved beauty into his bones and breathed life into his stone. A statue come to life.

(Do you want to know about the child who was born to the Amazons? For there were only two, and both were made of clay. The Gods blessed it, gifting them with powers each. Godkillers- the last gods created.

The first was a daughter, all as it should, made of poison and acid, of dripping flowers withering in her leave. They called her Persephone, as she fed off decay, the picture of death in life.

The second was a son, but no man may dwell among the Amazons, not even if he were a god. The Queen took him from his mother’s arms and put him in a boat where the child cried so pitifully the sea reached for him. Love me, love me, the loveliest creature on earth he was.

It was no wonder Nana Tidechild dove after him- she would bear anything for the son she formed from the ground herself. It deserved the chance to take to the sky.).

It is not all his mama gives him. She teaches him how to be polite. How to be terribly rude. How to be a man, how to be a woman, how to be nothing and everything at once.

‘’All you are,’’ she whispered in his ear, ‘’Is what you decide to be, my darling. Ask me not to give you gifts, ask me to teach you how to have gifts, and you will have the world.’’

Tsuna is not a fool, so he listens.

His clay-sister sits across the table. Her pink hair falls across her shoulder- it’s shorter than his, at the time. Ruby red liquid glistens in her glass, crystal teardrops catching the low light. Candles all around them, rich velvet drapes covering the windows. Dolls lined up on the fireplace mantle, the fire long smothered.

‘’How have you been?’’

‘’Excellent. Black suits me.’’ Tsuna smoothes the widow’s veil down over his hair.

‘’Oh, how nice to hear! I like what you did with the place, by the way.’’

Tsuna smiles.

‘’Thank you, Bianchi.’’

There’s a man hanging from the chandelier, candle grease dripping onto his dress coat.

Once upon a time, the Greek goddesses put all the women murdered by men on an island. The amount of them was so large that it looked like a continent, and their Queen, Lavina, was the most peaceful of all.

Her daughter, however, wasn’t. She left.

‘’I believe I have something of yours.’’

Bianchi scoffed. ‘’Please, I prefer heels, darling brother!’’

‘’But winged sandals are so useful when you’re getting creative! Honestly, sister, giving away your uncle’s present, Hermes won’t be pleased!’’

‘’…What did your husband do?’’

Tsuna wrinkled his nose. ‘’He saw my rendezvous with Kyoya in the yard. I wasn’t about to let that go down.’’

‘’Why not just use him as a toothpick?’’

‘’And get that from between Kyoya’s teeth? Please! I know how to take care of my Hound, thank you very much!’’

‘’If you say so, Aphrodite.’’

Tsuna is not a fool, he knows how to accept teachings. Bianchi’s path simple and yet complex. The way of falling- Falling in love, falling from grace, falling into Fall after summer, falling to your death. From an extraordinary height, by preference. It’s her trademark, just like the elegant poisons that boil her partners’ brains out. Petals crushed of flowers in full bloom, rot from roses, snakes’ venom, for snakes venture to warmer pastures, so they always follow Spring.

Persephone is her name, and she is Death to man.

(Tongues lolling, drool dripping, eyes rolling up as the poison makes its way to their hearts. Bloated bodies floating in fountains, heads on pikes on the docks. Sirens singing them down the waves, sailors willingly jumping overboard. There is no escape, not when it comes-

Comes down, down, down to it)

Tsuna wants to try it out, and her little present gives him the perfect opportunity.

‘’Bermuda, sweetheart, won’t you come with me?’’

It’s like taking candy from a baby. Slip on the sandals, grab the man, and soar. Higher and higher, a thousand miles above the city, lights twinkling beneath them, the moon full above. Clouds whirl around them like smoke, wetting his skin, his hair, his everything- even his victim.

Bermuda struggles and Tsuna lets him, gleefully watching as- he slips, friction wavering, falls and falls and falls and-

Splat.

Another doll to add to his collection.

(No more young boys will fall victim to this man)

The siblings like to get creative.

Once upon a time, there were two children. They were the offspring of the murdered, the ones killed in cold blood. The ones that cried and raged, hid away and loved. The Amazons and Gods both. It was all kept contained, until one day, a woman left, for she had committed a sin that could not be forgiven. Birthing a male child.

Bianchi watched her go- the child, the sin, the brother of earth- cradled in the crook of her arms.

There was a time when she wondered whether her mother had been right. Whether that child was a sin because he was a man.

She wondered. She wondered. She wondered and wished to know and went to the world she did not know. The world outside the sphere. The world outside the paradise. The world outside the island especially made for them.

She strode out, Amazon pride. Tall and wide, and proud and bright, so she stalked to Rome. Pounding the earth with her very feet, looking for the creature called Man.

She found it. It was everywhere.

Women were familiar, yet not. Heels were cumbersome inventions. So were dresses so tight it made your knives cut into your skin when you slipped them into the pockets- if they had those, that was. (…Heels crushed fingers easily. The gave height, inspired fear. Corsets pushed breasts so tight together that the vial of acid between them would never be found until it was too late).

Men, she had not known before. The Amazonian island was void of the bearded, the hatred great for them- but they were like women and yet not. Men were sweet, sweet and horrible. Came in all varieties- big and small, wide and thin, double-lidded or single-lid, what did it matter if they spoke so daring? What did it matter if they said something she did not like?

Everything mattered- for Romeo was no Romeo unless death was involved, and Bianchi was no Juliet. Romeo Bovino’s parents had chosen an unfortunate name, and Romeo himself had made unfortunate choices. (Suicide! The people said when they found his body. One more rapist dead whispered the milkmaids. Victory! Crowed Bianchi, high up in the tree).

It tasted like more- so much more, that even Death came to court her. ‘’Marriage is not my thing, Hades. Nor is romance, really. I was made from clay- I leave the fertile, the tongue-tangling, the love-making, to my brother. Give me stone hard. Give me scorching hot. I have been baked, I am clay no more.’’

Hades grinned, souls wailing in his mantle as he spread his arms. ‘’Call me Reborn, Persephone. I think you’ll enjoy the fires of Hell.’’

‘’Sounds like the place to be, my friend.’’

Her arm through his, she meets the furies. Lovely girls, really. Her kind of people.

Before all of this, before the sun rose quite so sadly, right after Bianchi’s first murder, she’d found him. Crouched over a corpse, tears dripping off his face, a snarling Hound bowed over them, as if to protect.

He had raised his head and she knew this was who she had been searching for. Clay-brother, earthen-kin. Sea-born Sky-child. Aphrodite. Tsuna. The only other amazon child ever made.

‘’It was his stepmother. He just- He wanted to belong.’’

Pushing the Hound aside, the man easily going, moving around the boy as if he was the only thing that mattered. Drawing closer, Bianchi gasps.

A child. It’s a child, fingers trampled onto the floor. Stomach ripped open. Small face still scrunched up in pain, silver hair dirtied by the mud.

No- it is earth. He is not dirtied. It is perhaps, trying to clean this boy of all it’s earthly troubles.

It’s a boy.

(Men are not inherently evil. Neither are women. Humankind, in general, is not. All things are good- or have the potential to be, just as they have potential to do evil. There is no such thing as being born a sin- to live is never a sin.

To kill is one.

The boy’s name is Hayato, and he was killed by a woman, and Bianchi cannot reach further than that- it is when the rage overtakes her.

She is Persephone, Spring, the one who blooms on top of the bones of seasons long gone. Who flourishes because of death.

…Mankind is not evil, but Bianchi cannot bring herself to care.

A child was killed)

Dear mother,

Mankind murders. A child called Hayato perished in my brother’s arms.

The letter lies crumpled between Lavina’s sheets as the warhorn calls. Her mortal son (so small in her arms, when she still lived. So small, behind the piano. So small, too small to remember her. Too small to miss a woman who simply came to teach him how to play. Too small- too small, Lavina was, to fight to keep him. Hayato- Hayato- oh, she loved him so.

He’s dead.

His stepmother killed him).

Bianchi wants to fight and Lavina lets her.

‘’Why? Kyoya, please, why do I keep doing this?’’ Staring down at the body before him, caressing the corpses face, fingers gliding over lips as if he can still feel the life slipping through his fingertips. The light leaving red eyes as he looked into them.

Too late to beg.

Too late to ask for forgiveness.

Too late to save Enma from himself.

‘’Because you hate.’’

Staring down at eyes bugging out, compasses dulled. Wild red hair curled around his face at last- Enma’s beauty was in his expressions always. Broad shoulders painted with bruises- the largest of them all on his neck.

Shaped the same as the hands Tsuna hides his face in. ‘’I was asleep, Kyoya.’’ Breath speeding up. Voice high, high, high as the heights he’s let his victims fall from. Knives twisting, skies falling, torn apart like Ouranus was by his own children. Hacked into pieces, like the ones Nana had made him from. Aphrodite is choking on her own habits, love like the legends the sacrifices falling down.

Teacups shattering, faces painted, hearts breaking as prophecied.

Another doll to add to his collection and Tsuna hates himself.

He calls Enma’s doll Enyo, with his wild red hair. A doll, naked, dressed only his wild lust for vengeance, his compass eyes giving away the location of those who needed to be torn down.

(The more Tsuna loved them, the more powerful the doll)

This is the thing about Aphrodite- her marries and marries and marries, and… Kills his husbands and wives. Significant others do not survive once he slips a ring onto their finger- and his one living love forever remains an affair.

Ares, his Hound, the Dog of War. Kyoya, his lovely, painted in blood.

They call him a Black Widow, and isn’t that true? Love is everywhere- marriage is such an entertaining way to kill. Tsuna likes the betrayed faces just before he hangs them. (He hates the ones he did love. He hates the hands he cannot stop from strangling. He hates himself, he hates everything, but he loves it as well. There is beauty carved into his bones, and he knows it is everywhere. The world is too beautiful not to love, and lines of power cannot stop him, but love he can).

He loves War, is entangled with him the way fishes are with water. Starved for him, the same way War always hungers for Love.

From time to time he meets his sister, asks her about her latest trail of bodies, and laughs as she drinks the blood of her enemies in crystalline glasses meant for wine.

Dinner is delicious that night. Nothing tastes better than the crushing defeat of your enemies, after all. From their place on the fireplace mantle, the Dolls of Decay watch War and Love dine. (Blood still fresh, the insects moving in, Gods know everything about decay).

when the gods overthrew the titans it was with the hope of a future they would never see

- instead the gods became what they feared most (l.e.h)

- by @icarvus

#hibari kyoya #Sawada Tsunayoshi #Bianchi #KHR #fic #Reborn #OnceABlueMoonWrites fic #fanfiction #fanfic #my posts #deity au

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gracewithducks · 7 years

Text

“Let us open wide our hearts.” - Katharine Drexel (Luke 12:13-21)

This fall, we’ve been spending some time with modern day saints – some of the faithful men and women who have lived in the last century. So far we’ve heard the story of Father Kolbe, a Polish priest who helped Jewish refugees during the Second World War, and ultimately offered his life in Auschwitz in order that another man might live; we’ve heard the story of Josephine Bakhita, a young woman born in the Sudan, kidnapped and sold into slavery, only to find her faith and her freedom on the other side of the world; and we’ve shared the story of Nelson Mandela, whose life-long work against apartheid cost him nearly three decades in prison – and who, while in prison, invited even his guard to sit side by side with him at the table of Christ. We’ve been reminded that there is power in living, and there is power in dying, but no matter what, as the people of God, when it comes to issues of peace and justice – we cannot sit apart; we cannot stay silent.

Today we are scheduled to talk about Katharine Drexel, the first canonized saint to have been born a United States citizen – and I promise, we will talk about Katharine Drexel, because hers is a life worth remembering – but before we talk about the first American saint, I want to talk a moment to talk about America itself.

And friends, I’m an American. I’m an American, because I was born here, and I was born here, because a few generations back, some courageous souls decided to risk everything, to leave their homes and old lives behind in pursuit of something new, in this new land across the sea. I grew up in the United States, singing “My Country, ‘tis of Thee” and reciting the Pledge of Allegiance with my peers. I grew up reading Little House on the Prairie and playing with American Girl dolls; I watched the Olympics and cheered “USA!” with the crowds for every gold medal won, and I didn’t just stand for but played the national anthem before our high school football games.

This is my home. This is, as the song says, the country where my heart is. But because I love it, I want so much more for us.

I believe in the ideals that the United States was founded up: equality and liberty, for all people. But I believe it’s dangerous when we forget that “all people” hasn’t ever really meant all people yet – when we try to shove the skeletons of our past back into the closet – when we find ourselves repeating our mistakes and perpetuating our prejudices.

And I also, quite frankly, believe that it’s dangerous to elevate individual freedoms, and individual happiness, above all other goals and values in life; the American Dream – while a lovely idea – so often, in practice, turns out to be just an illusion, a mirage, glimmering on the horizon, but for so many, no matter how long and hard they work, the dream never arrives… and for those who do achieve the American Dream, they still wrestle with discontentment, because “more” is never enough. And so we create a voraciously consumerist culture; we create an ever-deepening divide between the rich and the poor; we continue to divide ourselves along class and race and color lines… and we fear each other, and we distrust each other, and – in our pursuit of life, liberty, and happiness, we end up creating a place where people die senselessly, where freedoms are reserved for a chosen few, and where nobody is ever really happy at all.

In the pursuit of the American dream, we’ve created a nightmare. And this, friends, is why I want to talk about Katharine Drexel, our own home-grown saint… because just like Jesus turned expectations upside-down, when he said the last shall be first, and the greatest is the servant, and blessed are the hungry, and the poor, and the meek – Katharine, by her life and by her faith, challenges us to turn our understanding of the American dream on its head.

Katharine[1] was born into the American dream. She was born in Philadelphia in 1858, the second child of a wealthy investment banker and his wife. When she was just five weeks old, however, her mother died, and so Katharine and her sister spent the next two years in the care of their aunt and uncle, until their father remarried and the girls were brought back home, and a younger sister soon joined the family.

Katharine and her sisters were raised with every privilege and advantage possible. The girls were educated by private tutors; they toured parts of the United States and Europe. And they were also raised to recognize that not everyone was as well-off as they; twice a week, the family home became a distribution center, where the Drexels offered food, clothing, and rental assistance. When they heard of someone, often a widow or lonely single woman, who was too proud to ask for help, the family would quietly seek them out and find ways to meet needs without sacrificing anyone’s dignity. As Katharine’s stepmother Emma would teach the daughters, “Kindness may be unkind if it leaves a sting behind.”

By all appearances, Katharine loved and respected Emma, the only mother she had ever known. It was Emma who taught Katharine how to care for others; it was Emma who cared for her. But it was Emma’s three-year struggle with terminal cancer that taught Katharine another lesson: she learned that, while money can buy a lot, while money can give a lot and do a lot – no amount of money can protect you from pain or save you from death.

Katharine started to reflect on her own young life. She thought about the times that had moved her, and she discovered a deep and abiding passion to relieve the suffering of the Native American people. And so she started to support, both financially and personally, numerous missions and missionaries working here in the US.

When Katharine’s father died, much of his resources were left to a variety of charities and causes. But even after those monies were doled out, the three sisters still stood to inherit a huge estate – and “huge” may actually be an understatement here. To protect his daughters from fortune hunters, however, their father stipulated that – while the young women controlled the remaining fortune, it would never belong to their spouses, and couldn’t be willed to anyone else; on their deaths, it would pass to their children alone. Should none of the sisters have children, when they died, the remaining fortune would be redistributed to a variety of charitable causes.

But the women were still young yet; Katherine wasn’t even married. Her heart and passion were still for making a difference for the peoples around her. Shortly after their father’s death, the three sisters were received in private audience by the Pope, where they pleaded for missionaries to be sent to staff the Indian missions they were financing. And it was at this meeting that the Pope suggested that Katharine become a missionary herself. I wasn’t at that meeting – but I’ve been a part of enough others to imagine the conversation went something like this: “You say that God needs someone; what if God is calling you? What if God doesn’t just want you to send your money – but what if God is sending you?”

Katharine wrestled with this idea, she prayed to discern her own calling – and she came to believe that, yes, this is where God was calling her, this is how she wanted her life to be spent. The day that Katharine entered the convent where she would prepare to take her vows and be trained as a missionary, the local paper, the Philadelphia Public Ledger, ran the banner headline: “Miss Drexel Enters a Catholic Convent – Gives Up Seven Million.” Because, as a nun, she would have no children, she was forfeiting her share in her father’s inheritance.

And yes, seven million is a lot of money – but to put it in perspective, that’s more like one hundred and seventy-two million dollars today. No wonder people were shocked; no wonder they were amazed.

But Katharine was convinced. She committed herself and her life to issues of social justice, almost a century before ideas of equality came to the forefront of the American consciousness. She started opening schools everywhere she could: schools for Native American children, schools for African American children, schools for the kids that were too often and easily being forgotten, ignored and overlooked.

And Katharine established her own religious congregation, the sisters of the Blessed Sacrament, dedicated to the ideas of social justice… and they realized those ideal weren’t shared by all their neighbors, when a stick of dynamite was discovered near their new motherhouse. But Katharine wasn’t swayed; if anything, she believed more than ever that the work she was about, the work God had called her to, was vitally important, and not just “someday” in the future – but today.

Because neither Katharine nor her sisters ever had children, on her death, their father’s estate was divided among several charitable causes. But even without the Drexel fortune behind them, Katharine’s order and schools continue their work still to this day.

Katharine lived to be ninety-six years old. She was born in the years leading up to the Civil War; she saw not one but two world wars… and she died before the Civil Rights moment really began in earnest. She was a woman ahead of her time; she was a woman who left an incredible legacy behind her, including one hundred forty-five missions, and sixty-two schools for minority students – and Xavier University of Louisiana, the only historically black college in the US, owes its existence in part to Katharine Drexel, the rich white northern girl.

The American Dream says: work hard, and you’ll get rich; pass your riches on to your children, so they won’t have to work so hard. The American way says, More is never enough; it says, whoever dies with the most toys, wins.

But that’s not God’s way. And that’s why I love Katharine’s story: she flips the script upside-down. Rather than resting on her father’s fortune, she gave it up and gave it away. Rather than getting caught up in the game of me-first, look-out-for-number-one, rather than worrying about creating a huge inheritance to pass on to her own children – she invested her life, her inheritance, in other people’s children: in children who didn’t look like her, who came from households very different from her own – she spend her life loving and teaching and helping as many children as she could, because she believed that we’re all God’s children, in the end.

In our scripture for today, Jesus tells the parable of a rich man who – when faced with even more wealth than he’d ever dreamed of having – decides that the best thing to do is to build bigger barns, to store all his grain, so that he will be set for the rest of his life. And he’s not wrong, except that the rest of his life turns out to be much shorter than he’d planned. You fool! God says to the man, you fool! Your life will be demanded of you this very night, and then what will you have to show for yourself?

There’s wisdom in planning for the future. I’m saving for retirement, no doubt. But there also comes a point where you have more than you need, where saving turns into hoarding – and all those things that were once good start to turn rotten as we stockpile them away. It’s the lesson God’s people learned from the manna in the wilderness: that God gives us enough for all to be fed, every day, and when you try to take more than you need and to hoard it away – literally, it turns rotten; it stinks.

Katharine would say it’s the lesson of the Eucharist, of the Lord’s Supper. Her faith was deeply shaped by the experience of coming again and again to Christ’s table, where all people – rich or poor, white or brown or red or black – all people stand as one. Here, we all share the same food. And she was also shaped by the language: this bread, it’s Christ, and look, here is how much he loves you: he loves you enough to sacrifice himself, to be broken open so that many might live.

Our daily bread is meant to be shared, not stockpiled. There’s a saying floating around these days: if you have more than you need, build a bigger table. If you have more than you need, don’t build more barns to keep it in; if you have too much grain, bake it into bread, and break it open, and give it away.

And just as we need to eat every day to live – we need to keep coming back to God, coming back to Christ, so our spirits can be fed, too, through this communal meal, through this act of love: taking, and blessing, and breaking open, and giving away.

Katharine saw her resources, her privilege, as gifts – meant to be used, not to advance herself or her family, but to support God’s work. And when she died, she didn’t leave a fortune… but she left schools and missions, and generations of children educated, of children loved, of families changed, because of her faith. She made the world a richer place, because she remembered what really mattered most.

Friends, chances are, you don’t have hundreds of millions of dollars in your family accounts. If you do, please come find me! Few of us are millionaires – but we are all blessed, nonetheless. We all have resources to share: our time, our talents, our table, our attention, our advocacy, our love.

How are we spending what we’ve God? How are we investing our time and our resources – how are we investing our lives? How are we growing God’s gifts? Are we taking them, and asking God’s blessing, and breaking them open, and giving them away?

The American dream is to work hard, to get famous, and to accumulate great big piles of stuff. But God’s dream is to work hard, to be humble, and to give generously. And it may not be as flashy, but I’d say it’s a much more impressive – and important – way to live.

May our legacy be the legacy of self-giving love. May we be good stewards, faithful servants of God and generous lovers of God’s people, now and for years to come.

God, you know the things that we yearn for; you know what, and who, we work for each day. And you also know the things that wear us down and break our hearts. Help us to live faithfully, not just for today but for the future. Give us hope, and give us courage, and fill us with your peace. In Christ’s name; amen.

[1] She was born Catherine Mary, and didn’t change her name’s spelling to Katharine until later in life. For simplicity’s sake, however, I’ll be using the same spelling throughout.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Katharine_Drexel

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