#they are scared of being forgotten. none of the poems they write are even that good. they love the artform but they can’t do it well. very | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kiwiwrites6 · 3 years

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Deal

(Quick a/n: just so y’all aren’t confused! I don’t really know how to do inserts so when details come into play I dunno what to put😭 so just so there isn’t confusion;

(Y/n): your name

(L/n): last name

(N/n): nickname

(H): height

(E/c): eye color

(H/T): hair type

With that being said, enjoy this cute lil fic <3 I’m in the process of writing part 3 to broken! So look out for that <3 remember to stay hydrated and make sure you eat!)

read part 1 to broken here

Read part 2 to broken here

Tw: cursing, fluff :,)

“Ellie? ELLIE?! Dude what the fuck? Where are you?” (y/n) asked. She had been looking around for her green eyed best friend the whole morning, just to find the surrounding streets vacant. Groaning, (y/n) grabbed her shoes from the floor and put them on. “Where could she have gone? I KNEW I shouldn’t have kissed her...” (y/n) grumbled. Last nights events were so dreamy to her that she didn’t get to think about how Ellie felt and the guilt was eating her up.

*BANG BANG BANG*

Loud knocks sounded at the door of Ellie’s little cabin. She was engrossed in her comic book, when the loud sound scared her out of her chair. Angrily grumbling, she stormed up to her door, ready to give whoever was at the door a peace of her mind. ‘It’s 12 am!!! Why can’t I just be left... alone...’ As Ellie opened the door, she was met with her teary eyed best friend. “(Y/n)? What are you doing up so late?!” Ellie asked her. She grabbed her wrist gently before pulling the shorter girl into her cabin, her comic book long forgotten. “I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have bothered you... I just..” the (h/t) girl sighed. Her tears were starting to pour out again. Ellie was worried.

She always held (y/n) close to her heart. Ever since she came back to Jackson and met the girl, they’ve been inseparable. The two understood each other more than anyone could understand them. They were a powerful duo. But when (y/n) got with Emily, Ellie was so jealous that she started to push away from the girl. She didn’t want to act out on her jealousy. It’s not like she hated her anyways. She still had little doodles of the beauty in her journal, love-filled poems written by her. She made so many songs about (y/n), hoping to sing at least one of them to her one day.

“Hey, relax. You’re not bothering me. We can talk” Ellie spoke. She pulled (y/n) to the couch before the ladder pulled away. Ellie was confused. “Actually it’s not that simple. I need to ask you something, Ellie. And please, tell me the truth.” At this, Ellie grew nervous. “Okay..Shoot” (y/n) looked at Ellie who was now sitting on the coffee table in front of her couch, looking up at her. “Do you hate me?” (Y/n) asked.

Ellie’s eyes widened in shock. ‘She really thinks I hate her?! What the fuck’ “I- n-no! I don’t!” Ellie responded. “What made you think-“ “-Oh I don’t know, maybe the fact that I’ve been trying to hang out with you for the past two weeks and it just seems like you’ve been blowing me off every time. If you really don’t like me Ellie, you don’t need to ghost me, you can just tell me.” (Y/n) said. She sounded very bitter. Hurt, even. “I swear, it’s not like that at all, I can explain!” (Y/n) scoffed as Ellie scrambled with her words.

“I stopped talking to Emily. Did you know that?” (Y/n) suddenly asked. Ellie stopped her rambling and froze. “Y-you did?” (Y/n) nodded before sighing and sitting on Ellie’s couch. She looked at Ellie and continued. “She played me. She was talking to Olivia the whole time. I didn’t even care if I’m being honest. I was more preoccupied on why you were ignoring me so much. All I ever cared about was you, Ellie. What did I do to make you avoid me?” (Y/n) asked. Her glossy eyes looked over Ellie’s face to trace anything. Hatred, anger, disgust. None of that though.

“I- fuck. (N/n), I’m sorry. My intention wasn’t to make you feel like you did anything I just-“ Ellie paused as she looked at the girl in front of her. ‘Say it now. Don’t fuck up anymore than you already have. You owe her this.’ Ellie walked back to the coffee table and sat in front of the girl. (Y/n) visibly shrunk, and at this Ellie softened. “You can say it, Ellie. I won’t judge you.. you know that.” (Y/n) whispered softly, her tears still running down her face. “Fuck it..” Ellie mumbled. “(Y/n), I wasn’t ignoring you because of something you did. You could never do anything wrong in my opinion. I was... I was jealous of Emily.”

(Y/n) tilted her head in confusion before asking “Why? Did she do something? I swear to god Ellie, I’ll fuck her up-“ “No, (y/n). The only thing she did was take you away from me.” Ellie chuckled at (y/n)‘ s protective side before grabbing the girls hand with one of her own, the other softly ran along her cheek as one remaining tear slipped from the girls eye. (Y/n) was silent which scared Ellie. “Say something please...” Ellie whispered. After what seemed like hours to Ellie, (y/n) spoke up. “Is it okay if I stay over for the night?”

Confused, but not opposed to the idea, Ellie nodded. “Of course you can.” She grabbed (y/n)‘s hand before they both walked to Ellie’s tiny bed. Ellie made sure (y/n) was tucked in well before she turned off her Christmas lights and crawled into the bed as well. Both girls were facing each other, blushing like crazy.

(Y/n) wasn’t gonna lie, she only got with Emily out of spite. Upset that Ellie wouldn’t ever give her the time of day like she did for cat. Sure, they were best friends but (y/n) always wanted Ellie from the start. Ever since she caught Ellie stealing some of the jerky and stuffing some In her mouth, she knew Ellie was gonna be someone extraordinary. She was way too scared to ruin their friendship, although she was always jealous of Cat. But Ellie and cat were no more. ‘Can I even make a move now?’ She thought. ‘If I do, there’s no turning back.... but.... her eyes look so pretty in the moonlight.... fuck’ (y/n) thought. She looked right at Ellie as Ellie stared right back at her.

“You okay?” Ellie asked as she brushed (y/n)’s hair behind her ear. The girl nodded at Ellie before speaking. “I’m doing better. I’m sorry for blowing up on you. I wish you would’ve just told me...” she mumbled. Ellie hesitated before pulling (y/n) onto her chest and nestling the girl into the crook of her neck. “Don’t you dare apologize. I’m the one who avoided you. I should’ve told you, I just didn’t want you to think of me differently...” Ellie mumbled. “I’m sorry, (y/n). I really am.” (Y/n) smiled before leaning up on her elbows to look down at Ellie. The moon was doing her a huge solid, outlining Ellie’s gorgeous features; from her cute freckles, to her soft, plump lips. “Do you know why I love the stars a lot?” She asked. Ellie shook her head no while biting her bottom lip. “Why?” “Because” (y/n) started as she gently ran her fingers over Ellie’s cheeks. “They remind me of your freckles. I always thought they were so pretty...”

Ellie was shocked. Her face was red hot as she tried to process what (y/n) said. Looking up at the girl, Ellie’s mind went blank. (Y/n)’s (h/t) hair framed her face perfectly as she leaned over Ellie. “Oh yeah? I’m kinda disappointed, I thought you would love all of me” Ellie joked, causing the girl above her to giggle sweetly. She started to slowly lean in after a moment of silent staring. As she neared Ellie’s face, she looked at her lips once more. “maybe I do...” Ellie was feeling ecstatic, her best friend and long time crush had most likely admitted something to her that she was afraid of telling her herself.

Before Ellie could muster something to say, (y/n) shyly placed her lips against Ellie’s . Her mind went blank and the next thing she knew, she was softly kissing back. Ellie was shocked, this kiss wasn’t what she thought it would be. She always thought she would be the one to make the first move, and when she did it would’ve been passionate and rough. But here (y/n) was, kissing Ellie first, yet in a soft, and gentle way.

It was a longing kiss.

Ellie swore she could feel the butterflies in her stomach explode and flutter their way up into her chest. She trembled as her hands buried themselves into (y/n)’s hair. She pulled the girl closer to her before they both pulled away. (Y/n) was going to burst with happiness at any moment and she could feel it. “Was that... was that okay?” She asked Ellie. Ellie smiled at the girl before pulling her down against her chest again. “It was perfect.” She said sleepily. (Y/n) giggled. “Get some sleep you goober. I’ll be here when you wake up. Then we can talk more.” At that, Ellie nodded before her hands reclaimed their spot in (y/n) hair. She gently massaged the girls scalp and ran her fingers along her hair, each strand wrapping around her fingers. It made her swoon.

Next thing she knew, she was falling asleep to the comfort of (y/n)’s warmth.

After looking for the Auburn haired girl, (y/n) found luck while looking in the bison. There stood Ellie and Dina talking animatedly. (Y/n) felt a little jealous considering the fact that she spent most of her morning looking for Ellie, but decided not to think of much of it. When Dina made eye contact with (y/n), she smiled like an idiot and started waving for her to come over. Ellie soon turned around and saw the girl stomping over with a poker face. ‘She looks so cute’ Ellie thought.

“Hey” Ellie said. (Y/n) made it over to the girls, and sat next to Dina who was now playing with her hair. She was used to it. “Oh hey Ellie, hey, D. What’s up?” (Y/n) asked. Ellie was about to speak when Dina cut her off “She’s swooning to me about your kiss with her last night” Ellie slammed her hand on the table with a huge blush on her face. “Dina! What the fuck?” (Y/n) chuckled, her anger subsiding a little. Ellie was too cute for her own good. Dina had a laughing fit before she was interrupted by someone. “Weren’t you just geeking over the fact that I asked you out last week, or was I imagining that?” Jesse asked. (Y/n) smiled at him as he ruffled her hair. He sat next to Ellie who punched his shoulder affectionately.

Jesse looked at Dina who was blushing madly. “I think you were imagining that” she pouted. Jesse chuckled before he looked between (y/n) and Ellie. Their eyes were interlocked. They were silent and (y/n) blush grew. “Hey Dina? I think we should leave. These two look like they’re fucking each other with their eyes” Jesse snickered. Dina snorted “yeah, we should. We have patrol anyways.” she stated. The girls snapped out of their trance with each other, and (y/n) pouted. “You guys are assholes” She laughed. Ellie was blushing at Jesses statement. “You guys love teasing us but watch yourselves...” Ellie mumbled. After hugging her and Jesse goodbye, Jesse spoke “Until then,” he leaned into Ellie’s side before whispering something in her ear, causing her to shove him away from her with a huge blush. “S-Shut up!” She stuttered. Jesse laughed loudly as he grabbed his food from Seth and walked out.

Staring at Ellie again, (y/n) smiled. “How’d you sleep?” She asked. Ellie sighed before leaning forward on her elbows and smirking at the girl. “I slept pretty well, except the fact that there was some girl stealing most of the blanket from me.” (Y/n) feigned a small gasp. “who would that be miss Williams?” Ellie chuckled as the (h/t) haired girl leaned in. Their faces were inches away, and their stares were teasing. “You mean you don’t know who it was? That’s funny considering the fact that you were in bed with me...” her eyes looked down at (y/n)’s fingers that were playing with the sleeve of her sweater before she reached out for it and interlocked their fingers. Looking back at (y/n), she smiled at the girls blush. “What? Why are you so quiet?” She chuckled. “I-I was just” she started before she smirked as well, remembering the kiss. “I was thinking about how cute you looked when I kissed you.” Ellie blushed again and groaned. “Why did I know you were gonna somehow use that against me?” (Y/n) chuckled before standing up and offering Ellie her hand. “Because you secretly stalk me and admire me from afar. It’s okay though, I understand. I would stalk myself too.”

“Oh shut up. You’re all talk.” Ellie laughed as she lightly shoved the (h) girl and grabbed her hand. “Speaking of which, I told you we were gonna talk, yeah? You down for that?” (Y/n) asked as she looked back at Ellie. The green eyed girl nodded before she was dragged to (y/n)’s house. She was excited. (Y/n)’s house was so cool and she loved her style. They had the same interest when it came to art, music and reading. (Y/n) was really talented with her instruments, seeing as her and Joel would have some duets whenever her and Ellie stood over. Ellie loved her voice. “Home sweet home” (y/n) sighed. Ellie chuckled and spoke up. “I’m offended, I thought you felt at home with me.” she said. (Y/n) turned around and pouted at Ellie. “I didn’t mean-“ “-(y/n), I’m joking.” She laughed again as (y/n) groaned and shoved her towards the couch. “Did you eat, dumbass?” (Y/n) asked. Ellie sat on the couch before taking her shoes off and looking towards the girls kitchen. “No, and I don’t wanna. I want to “talk to you”, as you said.” She called out. Seconds later, (y/n) came out of her kitchen with a plate of cupcakes she had made. “I’m wounded Ellie, really I am. I made sweets!” She said. “You don’t even want one?” She asked Ellie softly.

Ellie’s mouth began to water, knowing how good (y/n)’s pastries were. She reached for the plate once (y/n) sat next to her. “Fine. Just a few though, your cooking taste like shit.” (Y/n) scoffed before taking a cupcake herself. “Oh I agree” she mumbled before they stared at each other and bursted out laughing. “You love my cooking..” (y/n) said. “I do..” Ellie admitted. She cleared her throat before adjusting her position to where she was facing (y/n). “So miss (L/N), what would you like to speak to me about?” She asked. (Y/n) smiled at Ellie’s interest before sitting up and facing her. “First I just wanted to apologize for last night. I felt bad for coming unannounced. Just know that I didn’t wanna intrude or any-“

“imma stop you there.” Ellie spoke out. “You never interrupted anything. I was reading my comics, but other than that, I wasn’t up to anything. You know you can come over anytime.” Ellie reached out for (y/n)’s hand again, loving the feeling of them perfectly molding around each other. (Y/n)’s fingers softly ran along Ellie’s palm before their fingers laced together. “Okay. Good. So this brings me to ask you something. Well, two things.” She gently played with Ellie’s hand and traced patterns over it, her nerves on fire. “Shoot” was all Ellie said before her other hand reached towards the plate again. “Why didn’t you tell me that Emily made you jealous?” Ellie’s throat went dry. She struggled to swallow the cupcake down so (y/n) handed her some water. Ellie drank before answering. “Same reason you never told me you “loved my freckles” “ Ellie paused as (y/n)’s blush consumed her cheeks again. “ I was scared because I didn’t want you to think of me any differently. I know now that it was dumb of me to not talk to you about it though. I’m sorry I avoided you, I never wanted to I just... I just wanted you to be happy.” (Y/n) smiled before pulling ellie on top of her and cuddling them up. “That brings me to my last question... Ellie, did I make you uncomfortable with that kiss? Did I overstep it? You weren’t there when I woke up so I figured I must’ve did something.” (Y/n)’s fingers went into Ellie’s hair, playing with her short auburn locks. Ellie sighed contently before slightly getting off of (y/n). She reached out to caress (y/n)’s cheek. “You made last night very unforgettable. I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. Plus, I’ve liked you for- god knows how long.” Ellie said, as her knuckles gently brushed along (y/n)’s cheek. Her blush was way too cute.

“Yeah... I’ve liked you for so long too....” (y/n) admitted. Ellie smiled like an idiot before sitting up and pulling (y/n) up with her. (Y/n) was in a giggling fit as Ellie pulled her on her lap and tickled her sides. “So let me ask you this now” Ellie spoke. “Did getting with Emily have anything to do with you making me jealous?” At this, (y/n) went quiet and looked away from Ellie. Ellie’s smug expression came back. “W-who told you that?” (Y/n) asked before Ellie grabbed her chin and made her look at her. “Dina did. This morning. Something about how you’ve always had a big ass crush on me, you hated cat, uhh, oh yeah! How Emily was technically a rebound so you can stop feeling jealous over me and cat, and how you wanted me to feel how you did, correct?” Ellie finished. Her smirk was wide, and her smugness was on ten. (Y/n) groaned before burying her face in Ellie’s neck. Her blush was intense. “Fuck cat. Fuck Dina too“ she mumbled. Ellie laughed. “If you were jealous” Ellie started before grabbing (y/n)’s face again and pulling her close to her “you could’ve told me. I could’ve put your pretty head at ease...” she mumbled.

(Y/n) was silent. Her attention was on Ellie’s lips. Last night they were so soft. Just as soft as she imagined they’d be. “I should’ve told you then, hm?” She whispered as she slowly leaned in. Ellie’s eyes went from (y/n)’s lips back to her pretty (e/c) eyes. “Damn right you should’ve.” She spoke sternly. (Y/n)’s hands went to Ellie’s shoulders as Ellie’s went around the girls waist. “I’ll take note of that.” Was the last thing (y/n) said before Ellie smashed their lips together.

Both girls were in ecstasy as their lips made contact. (Y/n)’s fingers ran along Ellie’s scalp as Ellie sighed softly and kissed the girl with more hunger. Her arms tightened around the girls waist as she pulled her body closer to hers. (Y/n) licked Ellie’s lips, asking for entrance and Ellie gave her what she wanted. Both girls tongues battled for dominance before Ellie won. (Y/n) caved in as Ellie’s tongue explored her wanting mouth, mewls leaving her lips. Pulling away, Ellie smiled at the blushing mess on her lap, before kissing down her jaw. (Y/n) tilted her head so Ellie had more access to her neck. Once her lips made contact with her skin, (y/n) melted and sighed, her fingers gently tugging on Ellie’s short locks.

Ellie paid attention to all the spots that made (y/n) moan or made the girl tighten her grip in her hair. Her moans and her gripping her hair had Ellie on cloud 9. She stopped before looking at (y/n) with a cheesy grin. Both girls were panting a little as they smiled at each other. Ellie brushed a strand of hair out of (y/n)’s face before speaking up. “(Y/n)? What does... what does this make us?” She softly asked her. Her nerves came back before they were eased as (y/n) pressed a small kiss to her nose. “Hmm... I think I need to ask you out, Williams. So-“ “be mine?” Ellie interrupted. (Y/n) blushed before softly punching Ellie’s shoulder. “You stole my thunder.” She laughed as she kissed Ellie’s lips again. After a moment of soft kisses and sweet sighs from Ellie, (y/n) pulled away before resting her forehead against Ellie’s. “As long as you’re mine.” She spoke softly.

“Deal.”

#ellie imagines #ellie williams #the last of us #the last of us 2 #ellie #ellie williams x reader #the last of us imagine #tlou imagines

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flowercrown-bard · 3 years

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Poems for the Poet (3/ 5)

Pairing: Jaskier/Eskel

word count: ~3k

read on AO3

Content warning: loneliness, self-doubt, self-loathing

Once Eskel began to write, he couldn’t stop.

He wasn’t even sure if what he did was helping him or not. Sometimes he looked at the verses he had crafted out of the ever present ache in his chest and smiled, feeling like he had taken a small semblance of control back. As long as he already knew what he was, the truth coming from others couldn’t hurt him. There was even a strange sort of beauty in them, in knowing himself and baring his soul in a way he had never dared to before. It was freeing. It was what a real poet must feel.

Other times, he stared at the words, the paper almost tearing from how tightly he gripped it with his trembling hands and it took every ounce of strength in him not to burn the poem, to erase the immortalisation of his failure. Because that was what it was. He could pretend all he wanted that he was creating something beautiful out of something ugly. It didn’t change what he was. What he never would be. It didn’t erase the lonely nights, the days gone without eating, the injuries turning to scars, the people he couldn’t save.

Eskel could only write about what he knew. And what he knew was aching. It was ugly and brought nothing but misery. So that was what he wrote. Yet even so, he sometimes felt that putting the things he saw and felt onto the paper made it more real. It made it possible for others to see it too. It exposed him, his mistakes, his missed chances to the world. It felt as if his words sealed his fate. Once immortalised, it won’t ever change.

Not that there had ever been any hope for that.

Still he kept writing, always hoping that it wouldn’t be one of those days of his mind being unkind to him.

He posted his poems on the boards and left, wishing that he could leave the memory of what happened along with the words describing it.

It took Eskel a while to notice that something was changing. Or rather, he couldn’t figure out what was changing.

It started out small. Eyes that didn’t turn away immediately at his sight. Aldermen who didn’t argue or try to swindle him out of his pay.

Eskel had come across such towns before. More so in recent years, ever since Geralt had somehow won a bard’s heart and loyalty.

Eskel’s lips twisted into a smile at the thought of Jaskier. He was probably with Geralt right now, laughing with him by a camp fire and composing another epic ballad about Geralt’s latest hunt.

A strange ache settled into Eskel’s chest. He wished he didn’t know what it was, but there was no mistaking the twinge of jealousy that spiked up in him. He loved his brother and he was happy for him, truly. There was no one Eskel could think of that was more deserving of Jaskier’s praise and presence in their life.

And yet, he found himself wishing that he were the one making Jaskier laugh and showing him the continent. Despite his mind telling him that nothing but heartache and misery would come of it, Eskel imagined himself sitting next to Jaskier, shoulders brushing and faces lighting up when their eyes met.

But Jaskier was probably far away. Even if Eskel was foolish and self-punishing enough to track him and Geralt down just to watch them be happy together, he had no way of doing that. Jaskier’s songs were widely sung. Following them would lead him nowhere. Besides, there was still the problem of bards not being too keen on Eskel. They might repeat Jaskier’s songs, but singing them in front of an actual witcher? That was something practically none of them were willing to do.

So Eskel kept trudging on, kept writing his poems and hoping that maybe someone would spare them a glance, would treat them as they would any other poet’s works.

His heart was heavy as he left the friendly village behind, already dreading what the next one might bring.

Strangely, the next town was even more open-minded than the last one. One might have even called it welcoming. It was almost suspicious. It didn’t make sense for Eskel to get greeted with nods and even occasional smiles. There was no explanation for the barmaid bringing him a serving of stew with an unusually generous amount of meat in it.

Except, Eskel had gone through such a change before. Toss a coin had made life so much easier. All of Jaskier’s songs did. He must have written a new one. Of course he had, that was what he did.

A small flame ignited in Eskel's chest. It had been too long since he had been allowed to listen to any bards. None of them compared to the one bard whose smiling eyes and soft touches danced through Eskel's mind at any waking hour. He knew in his heart that after hearing Jaskier sing he would be too critical of any other musician. And yet he missed music. Missed tapping his fingers on his thigh to the rhythm and silently repeating the words to himself the days after.

Perhaps, if Jaskier had written another song, Eskel might even get to hear it one day? Surely if Jaskier had produced another masterpiece, bards all over the continent would trip over themselves to sing it. It wouldn't be as good as if Jaskier sang it, of course, but if Eskel could get even a cheap imitation of Jaskier's singing he would gladly take it.

Yet no matter how hard he tried, Eskel could not find a single bard. Not much of a surprise there. Bards didn't mingle with people like him. Most bards.

It took weeks - weeks that were filled with more smiles, more coin and more longing to hear the song that had done all this - until Eskel finally heard it. Not by a bard, no. He first heard the new melody sung by voices that were utterly untrained, voices that didn’t care about nuance or refinement: He heard it being sung by children.

It made Eskel pause right where he stood in the middle of the street. The voices of the three playing children overlapped, making it impossible to make out the words or melody and yet the little snippets he heard were unmistakably Jaskier’s. He had a style Eskel would recognise anywhere, however warped the melody got when sung like this.

His fingers twitched helplessly at his sides. He wanted – needed – to hear the song. It was the only piece of the comfort that came with familiarity close enough to grasp. Sure, people were friendlier than they had been before, but for how long would that last? How long until he got to meet someone who was nice to him because they actually liked him? How long until he would see Jaskier again and hear a melody fall from his lips as if he was singing it just for Eskel?

His throat grew tight. He shouldn’t think such thoughts. They were poison and made his nights all the more lonely. There wasn’t even reason to believe he would get to see Jaskier again.

His promise flickered to the front of his mind. He had said he’d show Jaskier his poetry books. And, oh, how he wanted to. His chest got warm and ached at the thought of sitting in front of a fire together, Jaskier leaning against him so they both could read from the same book.

It was a nice thought. Beautiful in an impossible way, like a dream just before waking that one would still cling to in the hopes of keeping it a little longer; only to forget all about it once the morning light stole the dream away and exposed it as the fleeting shadow it had been.

It was enough to give Eskel the last push he needed. He couldn’t read poetry with Jaskier again – not until Geralt invited him to Kaer Morhen and who knew when that would happen – but he could have his words with him now.

His heart was beating painfully fast in his chest as he approached the children; slowly and with hunched shoulders, trying to make as much sound as he could so they wouldn’t be frightened if they didn’t hear him come closer.

Or maybe that was making it worse? Maybe by putting more weight into his steps to make them louder he emphasised how much bigger and stronger than the children he was? How menacing?

Weeks ago, there had been a different child. One who had been friendly until it had seen his face. The memory flashed through his mind unbidden. It made him halt. He couldn’t scare these children too as he had the other one. He couldn’t watch their faces turn into horrified grimaces as they ran away, their toys forgotten and lost, ruined by Eskel’s appearance that would forever taint them.

It had been a stupid idea. No snippet of a song was worth taking away a child’s carefreeness. Not even when the song came from Jaskier. Not even when it meant giving him the barest feeling of home back.

Without wanting to, his feet dragged him forwards until he all but loomed over the children. Like a threat. Like something you should run away from and pray it didn’t catch you. Like a witcher.

The children stopped singing and looked up at him, their eyes wide.

Eskel fiddled with the hem of his shirt. He should crouch down, get on eye-level with the children to make himself look smaller. But no one wanted a witcher closer to their face. Being on eye-level with a witcher meant that whoever looked at him wouldn’t be able to escape his yellow gaze. There was no right way to do this. No way that would not scare away the children and his chance to hear Jaskier’s words.

“That was a nice song,” he said as softly as he could. His voice was still too rough, too close to barking. Any second now the children would shake off their shock at seeing him and flee.

Instead, the tallest girl beamed up at him.

“Thank you! It’s an old one. My sister heard it weeks ago when she visited her friend in Ashwood Valley and she taught it to me.”

Ashwood Valley. Eskel remembered that town. He had been there himself not too long ago. For a split-second something like hope ignited in his chest. If the song had been sung there, then perhaps Jaskier had been there too. Maybe if Eskel turned around he could meet him again.

But the flicker of hope dimmed almost as soon as it had burst to life. Jaskier was a well-known bard and his songs travelled far and fast. Just because his songs had made it to this place didn’t mean he had too. There was no reason for him to travel through small towns like these when he could have Novigrad, Oxenfurt or various courts. And if Jaskier had been anywhere near that would mean that Geralt was there too and as long as the White Wolf could be had, no one would accept Eskel’s work. So it couldn’t have been Jaskier that had sung the song in Ashwood Valley. It must have been some other bard.

Eskel swallowed against the irrational disappointment that choked him like an executioner’s noose. He forced the corners of his lips to twitch up, just enough to be recognisable as a smile. His heart hammered as if it wanted to burst his chest.

“Can you teach me the song?”

The girl narrowed her eyes at him, a grin spreading across her face. “What’s in it for me?”

One of the other children nudged her in the ribs, but Eskel felt something soft form in his chest at the child’s tone. She wasn’t scared of him. Hell, she even demanded something of him, as if she wasn’t worried about his reaction at all.

Eskel searched through his coin pouch and pulled out a silver coin. He held it up into the sun, making it gleam, before he tossed it to the girl. She caught it mid-air and beamed at him. Her eyes twinkled with mischief.

“For another coin I can teach you all the songs I know.”

Eskel let out a low chuckle and shook his head. “Just the one you were singing before.”

The girl shrugged and started singing.

Hearing what was unmistakably Jaskier’s art soothed something inside Eskel’s chest that he hadn’t known had been tearing at him. There was comfort in the poet’s words. They felt like a warm hug or an evening spend by the fire in the company of loved ones.

Strangely enough, it also felt familiar. Not in the way that all of Jaskier’s songs were familiar to Eskel; their pattern, rhythm and rhyme scheme. It was more than that. Those lines…they tugged at a memory in Eskel’s mind. A line that hadn’t been written by Jaskier. A word that hadn’t left the bard’s quill but someone else’s. It almost reminded him of – no. That was impossible. The similarities to the poem Eskel himself had written weeks ago were purely coincidentally. Or rather, they were completely natural. After all, Eskel had borrowed imagery from Jaskier’s work, so of course those very same metaphors and phrases would appear again. They weren’t – couldn’t be a reference to his own poetry. If they were…

A cold chill ran down Eskel’s spine. If those were references to Eskel’s poor attempts at poetry, that would mean that Jaskier had read what Eskel had written. His lines that couldn’t settle on a rhythm to carry through the whole poem. His clumsy tries to find an adequate way to describe feelings most people didn’t even think he possessed.

Eskel knew in his heart that Jaskier wouldn’t mock him for failing at writing poetry. Not openly. But if he saw just how bad Eskel’s poetry – if it could even be called such – was, then things would change. He wouldn’t ask Eskel for his opinion again. He wouldn’t show him another first draft again and ask him which version of a line he liked better. Not when he realised just how little Eskel actually knew about the craft he claimed to hold so dear.

Eskel dug his nails deep into the flesh of his palms, trying to tear himself away from those thoughts. His fears were unreasonable. Jaskier wasn’t anywhere close. He wasn’t the bard that had sung in Ashwood Valley. He hadn’t read Eskel’s poems.

His own reassurances did nothing to stomp down the panic that had welled up inside him and threatened to drown him. His own words never helped. Not in the way that focussing on another’s words did. And who better to listen to than to Jaskier who fought so fiercely to make people believe that witchers were better than anyone thought? Perhaps if Eskel listened to his songs often enough he too might start believing it one day.

He took a deep breath that shouldn’t have been so shaky and focussed back on the song and what the painfully familiar words that had nothing to do with his own talked about.

The subject matter was no surprise and it made Eskel’s smile widen a little. Witchers and heroics. Precious laughter that was only gifted to a trusted few and that was more true and beautiful than any laugh heard at court. The loyalty and warmth that came with a witcher’s friendship. Above anything, the song spoke of a fierce and unapologetic protectiveness. It practically screamed Hurt my witcher and I will hurt you!

His witcher.

Eskel tried to imagine what it would be like to be Jaskier’s witcher. He had felt like he could be, for just a handful of days. He had been there when Jaskier had composed songs about him, asking him for advice and opinions, as if they mattered to him. Eskel had been the one who had been allowed to protect and shelter Jaskier and to bask in the joy and brightness that filled everything that Jaskier touched. He had been trusted to hear Jaskier’s thoughts about the songs be composed. He wished he could hear his thoughts about this song now.

Eskel closed his eyes as he let the words wash over him. He imagined a different voice, blue eyes and fingers tracing patterns on his palm.

But more than that, the song made him think about his family too. He thought of Geralt who must have listened to Jaskier compose this song, grumbling but secretly pleased to have such a devoted friend. And he thought of Lambert and how he probably experienced another witcher’s friendship right now with his Cat.

It was good that Eskel’s brothers weren’t alone. They shouldn’t be. They deserved lovely songs and comforting touch. If anyone deserved to be protected by their friend’s words or swords it was them.

“Can you sing it again?” Eskel asked when the song came to an end. He didn’t need to hear it again to memorise it. One time was enough to brand the words into his mind, but as long as he heard them sung to him, he could imagine what it might feel like to be protected by Jaskier’s loyalty and fondness as Geralt was.

Because the song must be about Geralt. As much as Eskel tried to see himself in the song – a helpless hope of a man who had been lonely for too long – it was impossible. Jaskier might be able to spin lies into beautiful stories that an audience wanted to believe, but not even the most drunken or romantic fool could be made to think that Eskel’s laugh was something beautiful. Eskel only let himself laugh with people he knew wouldn’t mind its ugliness. People who didn’t care what he looked like. For that was all he would ever get. Not caring. It would be too much to ask from even his family to look at him and see someone handsome. He knew they loved his laugh, but not because it was beautiful. It was because if he laughed he did it despite being hideous. No song or rhyme would be able to cover that ugly truth.

It didn’t need to. This song didn’t need to be about him to lift a weight off his chest. It was enough to know that Geralt found reason to laugh and that Jaskier delighted in the sound.

All too soon the girl stopped singing again and yet the song remained in Eskel’s mind. He gave her a small nod and tossed her another copper piece, just to see her smile at him again. It was all he had wanted for so long. Easy smiles, the absence of fear, someone willing to talk to him. But now that he had it, it felt strangely hollow.

This was all he had. Some people he didn’t know and never would get to know who tolerated him for as long as there was a favouring song in their minds. But songs faded and Eskel had to move on, find new strangers and hope they wouldn’t scorn him. None of these smiles would stay with him. He didn’t have anyone to return to, to talk to as the streets got empty and people went home to their loved ones.

He didn’t have a friend or lover with him. Not like his brothers did.

It was a selfish thought and the bitter taste of guilt that came with it rose up in Eskel almost immediately.

He should be happy for his brothers. And he was, he really was. But he was also lonely. When he left this town, he would get to keep nothing but a song reminding him of how differnt the Path could be if only he were someone else. If only he had someone with him and a laugh that could be called beautiful.

But no one ever would call him that. Because he wasn’t and could never be.

All he was was himself. And that wasn’t enough. Not enough to make anyone stay.

People here would forget about him as soon as he left. Maybe, if he was lucky, they would remember that he had saved some farmers from a griffin. Even if they did, they would only describe him as “the witcher with the scarred face”. That was all he was, all anyone could ever see in him, all he would ever be remembered for.

He put all of that into words. Words that wouldn’t be remembered either. Words he wrote more out of spite and as a reminder that Jaskier wouldn’t read them. Maybe no one would. Maybe no one would remember the nameless poet who wrote about nights spend by himself and eyes that never lingered long enough to see anything other than ugliness in him.

It didn’t matter anyways. It weren’t his own words that got him through that night. It were Jaskier’s. Eskel tried to be happy thinking about them. Perhaps he was. Or perhaps he would be some other day. He hoped he would. He knew it was useless to hope.

#what do we do when we don't know what to do?#keep on adding words and hope that the problem solves itself along the way #i probably should just put a questionmark at the chapter count again #this is getting ridiculous #jaskel #jaskierxeskel #eskelxjaskier #angst #fic #witcher #witcher fic #my writing #eskel #jaskier

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citrineghost · 4 years

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Why Compassionate Actions Matter (Yes, Yours Too.)

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about communication. Communication and human interaction are both things I think of a lot, actually. The most recent thing I wondered about is why so many people seem to not care about the things their supposed friends do.

For example, I’m in a server with my 5 friends, all of whom are also my roommates. There have been a lot of times that I’ve posted my art or some short stories to the #share channel and then waited and waited and gotten no response at all.

It made me wonder, do none of them care?

I know that all of these people generally care about each other and each other’s happiness. They’re all fairly compassionate toward others. So why do they seem to ignore every effort I make to reach out and share the things I do? Why do none of them ever do the same? It’s not that I expect anyone to applaud me and tell me how good my art is or how compelling my writing is - I just wanted to be seen.

Feeling invisible has always been a struggle for me, being raised in a household where I was in “the forgotten child” role. So, in my friendships, this is a sore spot for me. It tends to make me move on after a while if my friends don’t ever seem to see me. This is also why I usually only have one or two best friends - people who feel the way I do about compassionate action.

What Is “Compassionate Action”?

When I say “compassionate action,” I’m talking about doing or saying things that don’t directly benefit you or that you may do purely to benefit someone else. It’s not an official term or anything, just an apt way to describe what I need to. This doesn’t have to be charity work or groveling or kissing up to someone. It could be as simple as letting someone know their message has been seen - sending a heart in the chat to let someone know you see their work and you appreciate it.

Compassionate action is what draws me to the best friends I do have. My boyfriend is someone who I can always count on to be supportive and give positive words no matter what I do. I do the same for him. If I draw a picture, he always responds to it, saying, honestly, that he likes it! If I get really excited about a formula I created for a spreadsheet and I send him a screenshot, even if he doesn’t know what he’s looking at, he’s really excited for me!

Why Is “Compassionate Action” So Hard to Come By?

Many of us, no doubt, have had similar experiences in regard to feeling ignored or unimportant to our friends. But, surely, our friends do care about us, right?

The answer is yes, in most cases. But, somehow, that makes the lack of response to the things we love seem even more confusing. So, this is where I began thinking the other day:

Why do people who care seem so uninterested or unwilling to interact with things their friends love?

I talked with my boyfriend about this the other day to parse out why this is happening. It’s something we’ve both experienced a lot in different friend groups over the years.

So, we sat down together - over call, since we’re in an LDR - and we talked about it. We tried to figure out why we both feel this way and others seem not to. For both of us, it’s important to us that our friends are happy. Even if one of my hydrologist friends posted some table he made, that he was really proud of, about stream flow data - something I’m only moderately interested in - I would make an effort to read and understand it and then give excited feedback. It’s not that I’m as passionate about stream flow information as he is, but I would be really happy to see his excitement and satisfaction with his own work. My boyfriend is of the same opinion.

But then, if our friends value our happiness, which we know they do, why don’t they ever give positive feedback about things we’re excited about? We talked over possible reasons for a little while before we finally found one that made complete sense - one that consistently fit the bill for all of the friends that we’d had who never gave us “compassionate action.”

Your Actions Matter

The result we came up with is that most of these people were dealing with depression or self esteem issues. They feel that their opinions don’t have value - won’t make a difference. They think that it isn’t important if they respond because, “Why would sending a heart matter? If I send a heart and don’t respond with an in depth review of how cool the thing is, my friend will just think I’m an ass for not saying more. It’s better if I just pretend I didn’t see it.”

My boyfriend and I both have had some pretty life-changing experiences where other people’s compassion, shown in small actions of recognition and solidarity, have kept us alive or changed our entire day for the better. We’ve learned through our experiences in suffering that those actions make all the difference, and we’ve put that philosophy to work in our own lives. However-

not everyone has realized that this is true for them too.

If you have depression, anxiety, or you’ve grown up in an abusive home, you might feel like your actions don’t matter. You might think this doesn’t apply to you - that you’re the exception and that your friends don’t care what you think.

You’re wrong.

The people around you, even people you don’t know very well, they care about the things you say. It doesn’t matter if you’re depressed or anxious, or an outcast, or kind of weird. It doesn’t matter if you’ve never spoken to them or if you’re best friends.

The things you say make a difference.

The sooner you realize that your opinions and your words have value - have POWER - the sooner you will begin to improve the connections you have with friends.

I grew up feeling like my opinion was worthless and that I should never give it, even when people asked for it. To me, it was obvious that they were only asking because they wanted me to feel included. I look back now and I see that that’s not true. The same way you desire to be seen by others, they desire to be seen by you. One such way that you can make other people feel seen is by showing them that you have put consideration into what they’ve done. You have formed an opinion on it.

When your friend shows you a drawing they’ve made or they sing you a song they’re working on, more often than not, they are not looking to just show off. They are begging for recognition and are asking to be seen by someone they care about (that’s you!). Give them that. Tell them what you think! Get excited for them!

It’s Not as Complicated as You Think

Not really the kind of art you’re interested in? It doesn’t matter. “Wow, you really put a lot of work into this!” That sentence is a huGE compliment. You are showing them that you find value in what they did and that you see how hard they worked.

Did your friend sing you a song they’re working on and they’re a little bit tone deaf? That’s okay! You don’t have to lie about how you feel to be compassionate. “You show so much emotion in your singing!” Those words will fill a singer’s heart with joy. Not everyone sings to sing perfectly, but to convey their feelings and connect with people. That would make their day!

Is your friend a weirdo like me who enjoys creating spreadsheets? “Holy shit, that must have taken forever!!” Those kinds of words are so so validating. It’s okay if you don’t know what you’re looking at. It’s okay if you don’t want to try reading the data in the spreadsheet. What matters to me is that you have taken the three seconds to look at it and form an opinion about me and what I’ve done, even if that opinion is just seeing that I have put a lot of time and effort into something.

No matter what your friends show you, there is a way to show them that you see them and care about them being happy. You don’t have to lie or compliment the work itself, you don’t have to open up your bleeding heart and write a poem about the beauty of their creation.

You just have to show that you see them.

If you struggle to feel that your words have value, I urge you to take a moment and think of the times you’ve tried to share something with someone and gotten no response. I urge you to consider how the tiniest acts of compassion by other people have gotten you through the day. Please know that your words have the same weight.

I can HEAR you thinking that you’re different and YOU’RE NOT.

Everyone! I repeat! Everyone! Has an impact! With their words!

Depressed people, anxious people, people who were abused, people with trauma, people with disorders, people with disabilities, people who have a hard time finding words, people who feel like they have no talent, people who don’t know anything about the topic their friend is telling them about, people who are young, people who are old, people who haven’t left their room in 3 days, people who haven’t sat down to breathe in 3 days, people who have forgotten to reach out in a while, people who have been self isolating because they’re sad, people who have scared away friends from their past, people who have left friends from their past, people who aren’t very fluent in the language their friend speaks, people who know their friends in person, people who know their friends online, people who are suicidal, people who think they’re not as good as their friends,

Everyone’s actions matter, especially yours.

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suttttton · 3 years

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Kindred Spirit//Crumbling World

Written for @bookish-bi-christian as part of @tma-valentines-exchange!

Happy Valentines Day, Ray! Enjoy your nostalgic timsasha angst!

~*~*~*~*~

In a windowless basement I look across my desk And your smile And your stupid hair And the golden rays of your eyes Become my sun

Tim stares at the poem for a long time. He’d found it on top of a little box he’d always known was in his desk, but hadn’t looked at for over a year now. It was full of cards with little notes from Sasha, printed-out photos of the two of them together. And this love poem.

He remembers when Sasha gave him the poem. He’d just gotten back from a follow-up adventure that had taken him out of the Archives for a couple of days. It had been on his desk when he came back, and he’d read it, grinning the whole way as Sasha determinedly avoided eye contact.

“Not a word!” she’d said when he’d opened his mouth to thank her for it. “I know it’s stupid and cheesy, I just—” her face had been fully red by this point. “I don’t know. I missed you.”

He didn’t think it was cheesy. He’d been touched. Even as he teased Sasha about ‘the golden rays of his eyes’ for a week straight.

He remembers that.

But it doesn’t—

He doesn’t—

When the thing that wasn’t Sasha had mentioned her new boyfriend, it hadn’t seemed odd to Tim. He hadn’t felt jealous, or, or hurt. Why would he? He and Sasha weren’t that close. They were work friends, and that was all.

But before that, Sasha had written him a love poem. She’d written him a love poem because he was gone for two days and she missed him. That evening, he remembers, they’d gone back to his place together and gotten wine drunk while watching The Princess Bride. That was Sasha’s favorite movie, which Tim knows because he’d gone through a whole phase of saying, “As you wish,” whenever Sasha made any request of him. Because what he really meant was—

But—

Tim starts taking everything else out of the box, spreading it across his desk. He starts with the cards, both of them written in Sasha’s messy cursive.

First is the card Sasha had given him for his last birthday. The printed message says, “With Sympathy, to let you know that thoughts and prayers are with you in your time of sorrow.” The inside is crammed with her tiny script, paragraph after paragraph, hundreds of words. It was titled, “A Eulogy for 33.” On the other page, written much larger, “Long live 34! Love, Sasha.”

She’d taken him out to dinner, and when she’d given him the card, he’d insisted on reading the whole thing out loud, even as she’d complained. She was laughing, even as she said, “Tim, I will leave if you don’t stop it.”

Tim stares at that “Love,” for a long time, trying to suss out any deeper meaning from it. Not such a strange thing to write on your friend’s birthday card. She’d cared about him, but he already knew that, didn’t he? The poem said as much.

He moves on to the other card, a Valentine’s day card. There’s a picture of three chickens on the front, and inside it says, “Hope you have a happy Val-HEN-tine’s day!” It was a tradition, between them, bad cards presented with exaggerated flourishes, signed with sickeningly pet names. Tim would sign his, “Your sweetest sugar,” and Sasha would write, “Love, your honeybee <3”

On the inside of this one, Sasha had simply written, “I love you Tim”. Serious and sincere. Tim tries to remember how he felt, reading it. He doesn’t remember finding it strange at all. It had just felt nice. Warm.

He turns his attention to the photos. None of them are polaroids, because of course they aren’t. But they are something. Memories. Evidence.

The first photo is from the yearly holiday party. Tim is wearing antlers. His arm is around Sasha, and she’s smiling. They’d gone to the party together. But they always went to the party together, and the photo isn’t especially recent. They hadn’t moved to the Archives yet.

Next is a photo of the two of them at a wedding. Tim can’t remember whose. Some distant cousin of Sasha’s. There had been a kitschy photo booth at the reception, and the two of them had taken far too long playing with the props before finally settling down for the photo. They’re wearing oversized sunglasses, a feather boa is looped around their shoulders. Tim had been Sasha’s date then, too. It had been normal for them, going together to parties and events.

The third photo shows them on their first day in the Archives. They’d taken lots of pictures that day, with Jon and Martin and the infamous dog, but this one is just the two of them. Sasha is hugging him from behind, chin resting on his shoulder. Close, because they were close. Best friends. And—

The final is from a research mission they’d gone on together. Tim isn’t in it. It’s just Sasha, sitting on a bench at a bus stop. The sun is just beginning to set in the background, the sky turning from blue to white. He’d taken it because she looked beautiful, and he’d gotten it printed because—

Because he loved her.

He had loved her. Every moment he’d spent with her, he had loved her. How could he have forgotten? He had loved her, and she’d been dead for more than a year now, and in all that time he hadn’t thought about it even once.

He looks at the poem again. Sasha had loved him, too.

He wonders what else he’s forgotten, what else that thing had turned his mind away from. Had there been something, between him and Sasha? That would make sense, wouldn’t it, if they’d loved each other? He doesn’t remember anything like that, but… he isn’t sure he trusts his memories, anymore.

The last thing in the box is a friendship bracelet, made from colorful embroidery thread. Sasha made it, during that first week in the Archives, when they were annoyed with Jon and took whatever chances they could to slack off. “Pink for you,” she’d said. “Green for me. And brown for both of us.” The colors clashed horribly, but Tim still liked the way they looked together. At the time, Tim’s hair had been pink (”your stupid hair,” Sasha’s poem had said). Sasha wore a green cardigan nearly every day. And both of their eyes were brown.

The thing that killed Sasha had blue eyes. How had Tim not noticed that?

He picks up the bracelet, ties it around his wrist. Looking at it makes his heart seize up with grief for Sasha, for something he still doesn’t know how to name.

Good.

***

Tim has one tape of Sasha’s voice, and he listens to it, over and over, rewinding and rewinding. He listens to the cadence of their interactions, the closeness that had existed between them.

On the tape, Tim jokes about them being love interests, and Sasha rebuffs him. Tim remembers this, remembers feeling—frustrated? Sad? No. This happened at the beginning of their time in the Archives, before the cards, before the poem, but after countless nights out and nights in, parties spent paying attention to no one but each other, countless jokes and secrets and traumas shared between them.

He’d loved her.

And even as he listens to her laughing him off, he knows that she loved him.

There was more to it than this tape. Something existed between them, something precious, something wonderful, and he can’t—

He can’t remember what it was.

***

“Martin,” Tim says, cornering him in the break room one morning. It’s early, but Martin gets to work early, these days. Jon is gone, but what else is new?

“Christ,” Martin swears as he spins around, spilling a few drops of tea on the floor as he swerves. “You scared me. I didn’t think anyone else was here yet.”

Tim shrugs. “I have a question. About Sasha.”

“I—Okay,” Martin says, sobering.

“Do you—” Tim doesn’t know how to ask. It seems like such a trivial thing to be asking about. Sasha is dead, and none of them can remember her face or her voice, and Tim wants to know—what? If she had a crush on him? He twists the friendship bracelet on his wrist, steadies himself. “You were with us every day. Did you ever notice anything—romantic, between Sasha and me?”

“Not really,” Martin says.

“Do you know that, or do you just think it?” Tim asks.

Martin blinks. “What? I—” and then he pauses, as he starts thinking about it. “Oh, that’s weird,” he says, after a moment.

What?” Tim says, and his voice is too much, too desperate.

“It—She—” Martin pauses, takes a deep breath. “It’s hard, thinking of specific events. My mind keeps kind of… sliding away. But I think we used to talk about you?”

“Office gossip?” Tim asks, raising an eyebrow.

“No, not—Sorry. That came out wrong,” Martin says. “Did—She wrote you a poem, didn’t she?”

“Yes! You remember that? Hold on—” Tim turns and returns to his desk, grabbing the poem from where it still rests on top of the box. He hands it to Martin, who smiles softly as he reads it.

“Yeah, I—I helped with this,” Martin says. “She—she wanted advice to make it worse. Which—ouch, but… I knew she wasn’t trying to be mean, you know?”

“Yeah,” Tim says softly. That was Sasha. Harsh without meaning to be, never quite thinking through the implications of her words. “Wait—she wanted it to be bad?”

Martin nods. “She wanted you to laugh, and to tease her about it. I mean, that was basically your love language, wasn’t it?”

“Was it?” Tim asks.

Martin hesitates. “I think so?”

Tim is silent for a long moment, staring at the poem. He twists the bracelet on his wrist again. “Were we a couple?”

“Maybe?”

“Maybe,” Tim repeats. “Jesus.” He sits down at the little table, frowning down at the plastic tabletop. How many times did he eat lunch here with her? “It took her face and her voice, and it can’t—I can’t let it take this. If there was something between us, I have to remember, but—” There’s nothing else he can do, is there? If these memories ever existed, they’re gone now. Stolen by the thing that killed her. He slams his hand against the table. “Damn it!” he says, blinking back tears in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Tim,” Martin says, softly. Tim just shakes his head, and after a moment Martin leaves.

***

Two days later, Tim sneaks into the Archive early in the morning, and there’s a new tape sitting on his desk. For a long moment, he just stares at it, anger rising in his chest. Was it from Jon? Was Jon trying to contact him, trying to send him on some mission?

No, thanks.

He picks up the tape, planning to drop it in the trash. And then he sees the note underneath it. “Tim—Listen to this!” Martin’s name at the bottom.

Not creepy or foreboding at all, thanks Martin. Nevertheless, Tim relaxes a little. There’s a recorder on Martin’s desk, and Tim picks it up and pops the tape inside, leaning back in his chair.

The first few minutes are nothing but Martin, reading his poetry. Martin’s poems are fine, but Tim somehow doubts that’s all Martin wanted to show him. He keeps listening. And then—

The creak of a door opening. “Goodnight, Martin!” It’s Sasha’s voice. Her real voice. Sasha.

“How hard is it to knock?” Martin says, sounding pissed. “You always knock when Jon is recording.”

“That’s because Jon is my boss, recording actual work in his office. You’re in a storage closet.”

“… Fair enough,” Martin sighs.

“Speaking of Jon, are you going to make your move any time soon?”

“Wha—no!”

“Boo, why not?”

“Putting aside the fact that he hates me, he’s also my boss.”

“It’s Jon. He doesn’t have any real authority down here and he knows it.”

“Still doesn’t fix the problem where he hates me, does it? What about Tim? Are you going to make your move soon?”

Sasha hums. “I think I’m just going to leave it, actually.”

“Oh come on!”

“I just… I kind of like what we have now? We’re best friends, we share everything with each other, and we go out and get drinks, and—and there’s no expectation involved. Or—no, that’s not the right word. It’s like—you know how friendship can’t really survive romance? There’s too much passion, too much give-and-take, too much change.”

Sasha laughs then. “It sounds so unromantic, put like that,” she says. “Who wants a relationship without passion? But—It feels special. Like we’ve found a way to love each other, gently. Does that—that probably makes no sense, does it?”

“No, I—I think I understand,” Martin says.

“It’s like we’re teetering between being in a relationship and being best friends, and I feel like if either of us acknowledge it, we’ll be forced to choose, one way or another. And this wonderful thing between us will be destroyed.”

Martin hums. “I kind of think you should talk to Tim about it anyway?”

Sasha lets out a sigh. “Maybe I will,” she says, after a long moment.

And then the tape clicks off. Tim sniffs, wiping at freshly formed tears, and remembers.

***

There was this one night, the two of them laying in bed together, fingers intertwined between them.

They were talking, softly because they were both on the verge of sleep. But Sasha kept making him laugh, and he was so happy. So happy that it didn’t quite fit inside him, so happy that he felt nearly weightless with it.

He brought her fingers up to his mouth, and she sighed softly next to him. And the unspoken thing between them felt so huge, so real, so all-encompassing.

“Sasha James,” he whispered, his voice slurring slightly with sleepiness. “You are going to be the death of me.”

“All according to plan,” she mumbled, rolling over to face him with a sly smile. “I have to earn my membership to the assassin’s guild somehow.”

He returned her smile. And then he leaned in to kiss her, still holding her hand.

“Are you happy?” she whispered against his lips. And that was a ridiculous question, because he couldn’t stop smiling. He could nearly cry with how happy he was.

“Yes,” he said, and he felt her smile in return.

“Me too.”

#tma valentine's exchange 2021 #tma #tma fic #timsasha #stranger danger #my fic

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haileyyanneupton · 4 years

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❄ small - one chicago au ❄

Hailey Upton and Adam Ruzek have been friends for as long as they can remember. When Hailey leaves her prestigious private school to be with Adam in her junior year, she’s introduced to a new group of people who feel strangely like home.

pairings:

jay halstead x hailey upton adam ruzek x kim burgess kevin atwater x vanessa rojas kelly severide x stella kidd

masterlist | series masterlist

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❄ two ❄

After comparing schedules, Hailey learned that she had classes with practically everybody. She had History with Stella, pre-calc and Biology with Vanessa, English Literature with Jay (who by the way, she did not peg for the type to choose) Chemistry with Kim and eventually Adam, who was switching classes under the false pretence that there were people who were distracting him in his old one. She even had Kelly, Kevin and Stella in her French class, but with the way everybody was shifting classes in the first month of school, she was pretty certain that she’d probably end up having more of them in their other classes.

“How long have you and Adam known each other?” Kim asked Hailey as they sat together in Chemistry, waiting for Adam to collect the supplies from the front of the room.

“Honestly, I don’t remember a time when we weren’t friends,” Hailey explained, smiling fondly with a roll of the eyes as she spied Adam making funny faces at her from a few tables away, waiting in line. “We’ve lived across the street from each other all our lives. One day we just started playing outside together and that was that.”

“That’s really sweet,” Kim lilted slightly as she tilted her head and let out a small ‘aww.’ “

Before either of them could pose any more questions or elaborate further, Adam dropped the supplies onto the table in front of the two girls before letting out an exaggerated sigh. Hailey only chuckled at the boy’s expense as he flicked the back of her head playfully, Kim finding amusement in the interaction as she grinned and started helping to set up their experiment. It was a pretty interesting lesson, the students splitting off into groups to fill out scientific reports on the effect that fire has on magnesium. Hailey was happy to let Kim take the lead because, let’s face it, she knew Adam was hopeless and would probably pour all of the chemicals together to see what would happen. If it weren’t for Kim, Hailey would probably turn her back for two minutes only to find herself having to put out a fire or something of the sort.

“Okay, Hailey,” Kim looked to the blonde-haired girl through safety glasses. “Burn the magnesium ribbon.”

Holding it close to the flame produced by the Bunsen burner with the help of a set of crucible tongs, Hailey her other group members watched as the ribbon produced a white glow. After jotting down a few notes about how it burned and the kind of energy it produced, the three teenagers settled into their seats and struck up a much less academic conversation.

“So,” Adam started, directing his words at both Kim and Hailey. “I was thinking—“

“I hate it when you do that,” Hailey groaned, interrupting the boy as she propped her head up in her hand. “Whenever you think, bad things happen.”

“Whenever he doesn’t think, bad things happen,” Kim added, causing Adam to throw his hands up in the air defensively.

“What am I meant to do then?!” Hailey spied the smirk on Adam’s face as he whined. “I don’t think I can find a grey area between thinking and not thinking, guys!”

Kim and Hailey laughed alongside each other as Adam sighed in fake-despair. While he and Kim started poking fun at each other all over again, Hailey sat back and let her mind wander around. She had officially been at the school for three weeks and had spent one of those weeks with Adam’s friends — well, her friends now too — and she could wholeheartedly say she couldn’t believe it had taken her so long to transfer. Somehow, the week that she had known them felt much more like months — they were slowly bonding together and getting to know one another.

“Anyway —“ Adam began once more, looking pointedly at the two girls who only smirked in silent response. “I was thinking that maybe we should organise a day after school to go out for milkshakes or something.”

“That sounds fun,” Kim exclaimed excitedly. “I haven’t had a milkshake in ages!”

“Me neither,” Hailey added. “That’s completely unacceptable if I’m honest.”

Adam chuckled lightly at the girl’s reaction. “Then it’s settled. We’ll let everybody else know after class."

That day at lunch, Hailey took her now regular position between Jay and Vanessa as the group eased their way into a conversation effortlessly. The topic of discussion ranged between what they would all be doing after school to what was going on in each of their classes. Hailey knew what she was doing after school — like every day, she’d go to Adam’s house and hide out there for as long as she possibly could before having to go home. She stayed quiet and tried to blend into the background when the topic came up, not noticing that Vanessa had not only done the same but also had picked up on Hailey’s shift in mood.

“Hey,” Vanessa placed a hand on Hailey’s knee to gain her attention as she placed an apple slice in her mouth. “You want one?”

Hailey smiled at the girl gratefully, taking an apple slice between her fingers and taking a bite. “Thanks.”

“Some people think it’s childish to still eat apple slices at our age, but. . . I think they taste better this way anyway.” Vanessa scrunched her nose up as she spoke, the gesture making Hailey chuckle.

Silence fell upon the two girls for a few moments as they both cast their gaze downwards, the conversation seeming to fizzle out until Vanessa saved it. She had a sympathetic look on her face as she glanced over at Hailey who looked as if she were dreading something — little did Vanessa know, the conversation had reminded her that all good things had to end, including the school week which was practically her only escape at this point.

“Do you — Do you want to talk about it?” Vanessa asked, prompting Hailey to look over at her and meet her eyes at last. “You don’t have to. Just know that if you do want to. . .”

“Thanks, Vanessa.” Hailey’s voice and eyes softened. “I’m good. You can talk to me if you ever need as well.”

Vanessa smiled as she leaned her head up against Hailey’s shoulder, wrapping her arms around the blonde-haired girl’s torso as she returned the hug. Hailey couldn’t help but sigh lightly — she really didn’t want to have to leave the art room anytime soon even if it was to go to Literature, her favourite subject. She liked being with all of her friends, laughing and messing around the way that they had been. It made her happy.

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Hailey sat alone at a desk in her literature class after fetching her books from her locker when the bell rang. She was used to sitting alone — it didn’t bother her too much — which was why when someone slid into the seat beside her and their arm brushed up against her’s, she jolted slightly in surprise.

“Sorry,” Jay grinned sheepishly, a genuinely apologetic look in his green eyes as he leaned over and onto his arms which were resting on the desk in front of them. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Just thought maybe you could use some company.”

Hailey welcomed the boy to the desk with a smile, grateful that he had thought of her in the first place.

“Won’t your friends miss you?” She asked with furrowed brows, gesturing over to the only other boys in the class who were throwing screwed up pieces of paper at each other’s faces. “You can go back to sit with them if you want —“

“Nah, they’re more friends with each other than they are me. They know Kev, so. . .” Jay’s tone held a sense of nonchalance as he spoke. “Besides, the view is better over here anyway.”

Either Hailey hadn’t picked up on what Jay had been insinuating or she had chosen to ignore it, because the girl didn’t react to the boy’s comment with anything more than a brief smile as she pulled a notebook from beneath her pile of books and opened it up to a fresh page. Jay studied the girl intently, watching as she glided her pen across the top of the page and leaving behind the date. Figuring he should do the same, Jay reached down for his own notebook only to remember that he had forgotten it in his locker after getting distracted by his brother Will who was messaging him asking how to turn on the washing machine. Yes, the washing machine.

“Hey, uh —“ Jay scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, embarrassed that he had forgotten but not particularly feeling like getting up to go back to his locker. “— would I be able to use some paper?”

Hailey of course, doesn’t hesitate in ripping a few pages from her spiral notebook and handing them over to Jay, intuitively knowing he would need a pen as the same time as she slid one across the desk to the boy. She didn’t ask questions, not wanting to embarrass the boy any further as the teacher stood up from her desk with a sheet of paper in hand ready to mark attendance. Hailey had learned that her literature class was pretty mellow — there were no kids that acted out particularly badly, leaving their teacher to give them a lot of trust when it came to assignments. This upcoming assignment proved to be no different.

“Okay, so for the next few weeks I want you all to work on a poem. Normally, I would want you to write a poem about a childhood memory or your favourite place at this point in the year but I decided that since we’re all still getting to know each other, it would be more interesting to write a poem about somebody else. A classmate. You’ll have to get to know them before you write your poem — which is why I’m giving you a few weeks — and then you’ll present to the class when you’re done. I only have two rules surrounding this assignment — firstly, none of you are to do anything illegal. Second, nobody is to get pregnant. Please. That’s all I ask.”

Snickers erupted across the classroom as one of the boys Jay had been talking to earlier piped up, the attention shifting from the teacher and over to him as he placed his hands on his stomach, mimicking a pregnant woman.

“Miss, I think it’s too late for me,” he grinned mischievously, his words coming out between his own laughter. "Does anybody wanna feel it kicking? Come on, don’t be shy —“

“Pipe down, Marcus,” the literature teacher interrupted the boy as the class laughed at his antics; even she had a smile on her face as she shushed the class. “Anyway — other than that I’m happy for you all to take the rest of the day ‘off’ to get to know each other since this is your last class. I’ll be assigning partners though — don’t get too excited just yet.”

As the teacher walked around the class and paired people up, Hailey became less and less enthused about the assignment at hand. She could see that the teacher was intentionally splitting up friends and people sitting by each other; the idea made her feel nauseous with anxiety. She didn’t want anybody who wasn’t her friend to learn about her — Jay was the closest thing she had to that in this room. Waiting for the inevitable to happen was some kind of hell loop for the teenager as she wrung her fingers beneath the table, the teacher seemingly taking her time before finally approaching Hailey and Jay’s desk with a small yet curious smile.

“Actually,” the woman began, glancing between the blonde and the brunette with a certain look in her eye that Hailey couldn’t quite place. “I think I’ll keep you two together. I think it’ll be interesting to see what the two of you come up with.”

The elephant that had been sitting on her chest finally dispersed as she and Jay made eye contact, a small smile creeping onto her face as the class was dismissed for the day to work on their project. Hailey was glad to be working with Jay — she was comfortable with him for the most part, not to mention the fact that he was incredibly intriguing if she did say so herself. Jay definitely wasn’t opposed — Hailey seemed to be a complete mystery to anybody who wasn’t Adam, leaving him itching for answers; he wanted to know her. He wanted to know Hailey Upton.

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“Where do you want me to tell Adam to pick me up from?” Hailey asked, turning to Jay who was sitting beside her in the driver’s seat as she held her phone in hand, her thumbs dancing across the screen as she formulated a text to send to her friend.

“What?” Jay seemed shocked by her words. “No — Hailey, I’ll drive you home. Tell Adam not to worry.”

“Are you sure?” Hailey seemed uncertain, not wanting to inconvenience the boy.

“Of course I am,” Jay chuckled lightly with a lopsided smirk. “What’d you think I was going to do? Leave you stranded?”

“I don’t know! We’re doing this project so we can learn about each other — maybe that was going to be your way of getting me to learn that you’re a dick or something!”

“Well I’m offended,” Jay joked playfully, though it soon became apparent to the boy that Hailey knew how to dish it right back. “I can’t believe you’d think I’d ever do that, Upton.”

“That sounds like a you problem, Halstead.”

“Ouch.” Jay faked offence as he placed a hand on his heart and jutted out his bottom lip in a juvenile pout. “Why does Adam drive you everywhere, anyway? Don’t you have a licence? I mean — it’s cool if you don’t — I just —“

Hailey couldn’t help but give a small laugh at his attempt to eat his own words. “I have a licence, and I do drive — sometimes. My issue is that I don’t have a car, and since I don’t really go anywhere besides school and home, he drives me.”

“That sounds boring. I think we’ve gotta change that.”

“Do we now?”

“Duh. You need a life.”

Hailey rolled her eyes with a slight tut. “Tell me about it.”

Both Jay and Hailey shared a laugh as they slowly came to a stop in the parking lot of a beach lookout. She was certain she had never been here before — Chicago wasn’t exactly known for it’s beaches, let alone lookouts over Lake Michigan. Entranced by the view, Hailey almost didn’t notice Jay taking the keys out of the ignition and opening up the drivers side door as he clambered out as she followed, climbing up onto the bonnet of the car beside him.

“It’s pretty here,” Hailey said breathily, her eyes fixed upon the water as she leaned back slightly. “I didn’t know that something like this existed.”

Jay nodded affirmatively. “Neither did I until a few years ago. It’s one of my favourite places to come when I want to relax.”

“I can see why.” Hailey found herself with a smile as she turned her head to face the boy beside her. “So. . . my first question — why did you choose literature? I mean, I didn’t really take you to be the kind of guy into this stuff.”

Jay hummed in thought for a moment or two. “I’ve always liked words. Speaking them, reading them, writing them. I think I was probably the only kid who actually enjoyed the book studies and analysing them so I could find a deeper meaning.”

“I loved those!” Hailey’s eyes twinkled with happiness as she spoke. “We got to dive into this world that was so similar yet so different to ours and examine every part of it, take it apart until there was nothing left. It was — I don’t know — cathartic?”

“In a way, I suppose you’re right.” Jay bought his right leg up in a bent position, resting his arm upon his knee as he directed his next question at the blue-eyed girl beside him. “What’s your favourite colour?”

“Blue. It’s calm. Peaceful. What’s yours?”

“Red — I dunno why. It’s always been red.”

That’s how the rest of their afternoon went. Jay and Hailey asking each other random questions and just talking about random things that otherwise probably wouldn’t come up in conversation. Jay was more than happy to drive Hailey back to her house, the boy unable to take his eyes off of the girl as he watched her walk through her front door and disappear. There was still so much of Hailey Upton that was a mystery to Jay, but he was determined to learn everything there was to learn about her. A week ago, he hadn’t even known the blonde-haired, blue-eyed beauty — now, she was invading his every thought.

tag list: @ruzek-halstead @lissethsrojas @sammywiths @butterflies44 @upsteadheart @shawnscheeks @puckluck28 @karihighman @thetwit @azu1ang3188 @juu-series @justanotheronechicagofan @stinaax @stayupton @fullwattpadmusictree

a/n i havent really given this a proper read through in fear that my perfectionistic ass would never actually post it so forgive me if it’s terrible hahaaaaa

#chicago pd #one chicago #chicago fire #hailey upton #jay halstead #adam ruzek #vanessa rojas #kevin atwater #kelly severide #stella kidd #kim burgess #upstead #stellaride #burzek #rowater #cpd #au

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lozzypoz321 · 4 years

Text

The Umbrella Academy

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: I don’t really know what this is, hope you enjoy it though! In celebration for season two!!

Warnings: none that I know of

Being part of the Hargreeves family includes;

•Taking your siblings clothes

“Hey Diego, can I borrow your sweater?” You asked, leaning into your brother's room, making him look over your direction by the door but before he could respond, you thanked him and grabbed the closest jumper that was hung up in the wardrobe.

“Hey!”

Without looking back you started running away from the voice of Diego, you looked over your shoulder while you were still running to make sure he wasn’t following you but unfortunately, you tripped and went flying over Luther's lone shoe that was left on the floor.

Without even opening your eyes you could sense your brother standing near, his frame towering over you.

“Can I keep it?”

•Hanging out in your sibling’s rooms’

“Five,” you started, dragging out the ‘e’ in his name as you sat on the bottom of his bed, “Klaus is being annoying again. Can I stay here for a while?”

He looked up at you, finishing polishing his gun and placing it on a stand that was mounted on the wall. Five raised his eyebrow and shrugged, walked over to the top of his bed. “I’m not surprised. It was Luther and Diego for me”

You leaned over to his side and asked whether he could space-time and get the book from your room. He narrowed his eyes at you, giving a clear answer. He huffed and fell back against the bed making it creak from the impact, without speaking you slid off and quietly tiptoed to your room to retrieve your book because it was boring speaking to a brick wall.

•Playing hide and seek with your siblings

“Five that’s cheating!” Luther yelled at the boy when he tried to space jump into the future making him scowl at the taller brother.

Allison just rolled her eyes and pushed Diego away when he tried to tackle them both before Klaus could start Egyptian dancing around the room Vanya (who was rarely involved in the games) put her hands over her ears and shouted “Stop! I’m gonna start counting soon so you need to hide!”

Without needing to be told twice, everyone scuttled away and in different directions. You tried to stick to number 2’s tail but eventually, you gave up and hid with Ben in one of the closets where spare sheets and pillowcases were stored. About halfway through the game and you could hear that Vanya had found Allison, Ben started quietly doing ridiculous commentary to entertain the both of you.

“And the bird has found its prey, find out after the break whether or not the worm gets viciously eaten in front of its slithery worm family whose entire population is Katherina Klaus!”

You had to stop yourself from laughing too hard and giving your hiding spot to Vanya, Allison and now Luther who had just been found attempting to squeeze himself in a washing machine that Klaus had brought home one day and named ‘Mary the great spinner’.

“How dare you assault Mary like that?!” Klaus shrieked after revealing himself upon hearing where Luther had hid.

“Where’s (Y/N), Five and Diego?”

When Ben heard they’d forgotten him, which he was used to but wasn’t any less annoyed, he yelled out to them “hey! I’m here too!”

As soon as the sentence came out of his mouth, he threw his hands over his face. Obviously not thinking before he did it. In an instant, the door was thrown open and revealed the two of you. Luther and Allison smirked, happy that their plan had worked.

Ben groaned, “you did that on purpose didn’t you?”

After another hour you had managed to find Diego but the six of you still couldn’t find Five and the two competitive brothers were starting to get fed up. You all rounded the corner to the hallway where his bedroom was but suddenly Five appeared out of nowhere and leapt forward making everyone scream. Klaus’ more high pitched than anyone elses.

“You still cheated!”

•Helping them out with hobbies

You loved helping out your siblings and cheering them on when it came to the things they loved. It started out when Luther began writing poems, he kept it a secret for the longest time. Afraid that everyone would make fun of him for it as he was a boy, but he finally opened up his love for writing to you after he found out you enjoyed reading so much and you were never one to make fun of people.

He was nervous at first but ended up coming to you whenever he had an idea or when he had finished anything so you could read it and give him feedback. The more he worked hard in his free time the more you two bonded over his writing: you helped him out on the grammar which you had learnt after reading so many books, bought him a rhyming dictionary for his birthday (basically all of your birthdays, but it was only for him) and let him borrow your writing pens.

He even shared his ideas at dinner when everybody else was eating.

“Hey (Y/N),” he whispered from his spot next to you, making sure nobody else could hear him through the heavy silence and occasional scrapes of knives that your father insisted on having at every meal.

“Huh?” You mumbled back, covering up the sound by clattering your knife on the plate so that only Luther could hear what you’d said.

“I was thinking about doing a poem of Griddys, like what it means to us you know?”

You pondered for a second before briefly glancing up at him, “and what does it mean to us?”

He raised one of his eyebrows and jokingly scoffed, earning the attention of your father looking at the both of you with a strict look plastered upon his face at his spot at the top of the mahogany table where he always sat. “Quiet children!”

So without making a sound, you reached into your pocket and brought out one of the biro pens that you always carry around for emergencies and you started writing on the back of your arm. It may not have been sanitary, but it worked.

‘What does it mean?’

He quietly grabbed the pen and began creating a sentence on his own arm, a bit too forceful. ‘Like, a place where we can escape, you know? Or is that too cheesy?’

You fought back a smile so no one would get suspicious, and gave him a subtle thumbs up under the table to show that it was okay.

Luther loved writing poems and you were always there to help him.

•Having sleepovers

“Oh (Y/N)” Klaus sang, and glided into your room with a top hat upon his head “it’s time for our sleepy sleepover!”

He chose the name and you didn’t have anything to say against it. Once a month you and him liked to have a ‘sleepy sleepover’ where the two of you had the time of your lives from 12pm to 3am while dancing, singing and doing dares.

“Okay, I’ll grab the snacks Klaus,” you said and slipped off your bed to go retrieve the gummy worms and prawn cocktail crisps that you two had managed to sneak from a convenience store one night.

After you had got them you tiptoed back upstairs, as not to wake up your mom, father or siblings. Once you got to the door of your room you walked in only to find Klaus laying on the ground with a cowboy hat on his head, you had no idea where he had found it. “Let’s do line dancing!” He yelled and hopped up, excitement filling his body at the thought of his favourite dancing style.

“Okay…”

•Sneaking out

“(Y/N)! Shhh,” Luther hissed at you when you accidentally stepped on Allison’s foot causing her to nearly yelp in pain “right here’s what we’re gonna d-“ before he could finish his sentence Diego interrupted him in a whisper “why do you get to decide everything?”

“Because” he started, emphasising the word “I’m the oldest in case you’ve forgotten, I get to decide the rules”

Just then Vanya decided to speak up “actually, you’re not the oldest, you’ve just got the smallest number, we’re all the same age” her tone was nervous as if she was scared to go against him, but they just ignored her.

“I should be in charge I’m the most responsibl-“

“No! I’m older, I should-“

“That’s not fair though! I’m-“

“Will you two cut it out!” Five hissed, moving himself between the two quarrelling brothers “I’m tired of you acting like two-year-olds. Don’t make me stab you with a shovel”

His threat seemed to reach them as they both shut their mouths and waited for Ben to peacefully tie his shoes.

“Okay are we ready?” Allison asked everyone once number 6’s trainers were successfully tied in bows, she received an abundance of yes’s in return making her grin “great!”

“We should probably be quiet now!” Klaus exclaimed loudly making Diego and Five punch him in the shoulder either side.

“Right okay, we should go now” you whispered and tried to break apart the fight that had now merged from Diego and Klaus to Diego and Luther to no ones surprise.

“Children,” a happy voice suddenly sounded from the hallway making you all twist around in surprise, guilt washing over all eight of your faces as you caught sight of your mother standing there with a dusting stick in her hand “you should be getting to bed now, you have a long day tomorrow”

“...yes mother”

@marvel-ous-hobbit @snarky--starky @rae-is-typing @stargazingfangirl18 @canadianhufflepuffavenger

#the umbrella academy #TUA #Season 2 #tua season 2 #Diego Hargreeves #five hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #luther hargreeves #allison hargreeves #ben hargreeves #The umbrella academy fanfic

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fortheloveoffanfic · 4 years

Text

Mended

Keanu Reeves x reader (A/n- have y'all ever read Keanu's Ode to Happiness? I love it but it's also kind of sad. I saw a couple interviews on it and but also made my own inferences. Also, I don’t really know how to feel about this, so don’t hate me if I end up deleting it. It took weeks to even give it a name. Anyway, I should stop with all the rambling and yeah.....feedback appreciated and you know, I’ m scared to post this one, so be gentle please and thanks)

"Is this how you really feel?" Y/n asked softly, frown evident on her subtle beauty. He hated that frown, he hated to think she might be sad, or angry or disappointed or really, anything that wasn't happiness. Keanu placed one of his large hands over hers in her lap. She still held the book, it looked huge in her small hands, and her eyes searched his, for an answer, but not just any answer, the truth.

In that moment, Keanu regretted asking her to read it, but then again, lots of people had read it. But he didn't think they had ever asked him about it, what had driven him to write something so blatantly melancholy. He didn’t think he’d ever want to talk about it either. Instead of speaking, he just shrugged his shoulders.

"You're not going to tell me?" Her brow creased with worry and she swallowed tightly, "Because you can. Do you really hate yourself?" At the words, her voice broke and Keanu swore that he could hear her heart start breaking too. Not because of him, but for him.

Keanu shrugged again. It was funny he thought, how millions of people had probably read his poem before, but none looked him differently. They still saw an ever humble man who was kind and light hearted. They saw someone who had persisted through hard times and had overcome pain. They never saw the man behind it all, the one who was scared to love again, who feared that he would never have the things that would matter most it the end. The man who craved the normalcy and comfort of having someone to go home to and children who looked up at him.

Since he wrote it, and even before, Keanu had wrestled with the darkness in his head. The ever-existing storm cloud that said it was too late. That he wasn't going to get the happy ending, and that he was doomed to be alone, with only brief, barely committed relationships as his only salvation. But then he met her. Y/n. It didn't happen like it did in the movies, they didn't look at each other from across the room nor did their hands randomly touch in the most dramatic of ways. None of that.

He had meet her at a meeting for a potential project, the movie adaptation of a popular book. She was the author's assistant and a writer herself. In fact, just a year after they met, Y/n had managed to publish her own book, quickly becoming a household name. The journey to their relationship had certainly been a slow burn, growing from an awkward, tension riddled friendship to the moment where he finally took a chance and kissed her, right at her front door, after a fun dinner in the city. He hadn’t expected her to reciprocate his feelings, but she did.

Flash-forward to six months later, Y/n had significantly brightened his life and they had a lot in common, including a love of literature, a shared enjoyment in giving back to the community and travel. Keanu had fallen for her, he loved her, more than he thought was possible and when he looked at her, he knew that Y/n felt the same.

She had given him so much; a safe space, comfort and love, so much so that he had almost forgotten about the darkness that had lived in his head, and to some extent, his heart. Y/n had chased it away, opening the windows and bringing warmth, light and a new perspective. Keanu hadn't thought about it for so, so long, that now, the person who wrote that poem was but the distant memory of a lonely man. “Well?” She asked, breaking him out of his thoughts, shifting so they sat knee to knee.

“I used to,” he squeezed her fingers and tears welled in her eyes, “I thought that my life was over before I had even gotten to do the things I wanted to. That I had missed out on everything. Sure, I had chased my dream, but what about everything else? What about something like this," Keanu emphasized, lightly squeezing her fingers. "I had started thinking that everything that had happened was my fault and that I was being punished. That I had to be punished and that punishment was the loneliness, the pain of the memories and everything else," quietly he sighed and Y/n could see the distance in his eyes as he remembered things she wished had never happened to him. "I felt.....broken," his voice was thick with emotion and Y/n had to bite back her tears.

Y/n’s hand rose to cup his cheek, her finger swiping under his eye, “Why didn’t you ever say anything?” Y/n’s frown deepened and her expression was enough to speak volumes on her immense love for him, “I mean it every time I say that you can talk to me about anything. Anything Keanu.”

“I know,” he breathed, taking the book from her hand, setting it on the coffee table in front of them, bringing his hand around the back of her neck, urging their faces together, their foreheads pressed to each other’s, “But I don’t feel like that anymore. You put me back together Y/n, even before we became us,” he gestured between them. “You fixed a broken man."

Y/n chuckled quietly, “I didn’t fix a broken man,” she corrected wistfully, “I reminded a hurt man that he deserves more than he lets himself have.”

“He’s still very grateful,” Keanu’s thumb caressed her jaw, “I love you baby,” his lips were soft against hers and their kiss felt filled with love, adoration and thankfulness, as if he needed to show her, prove that he was grateful. Y/n had loved him, she was patient when he needed her patience, forgiving when he pulled away, thinking that they wouldn’t work and she was always there, even if she was miles away; she did everything to show him that she was with him, on his side. A lighthouse in the storm, the love he had longed for.

"I love you too," Y/n returned, her lips still pressed to his, "Please, don't ever hide what you're feelings from me. Whatever it is, we're in it together, promise?"

Keanu cupped Y/n's face in his hands, the tips of his fingers brushing her hair, "I promise," he confirmed, pulling her into another slow, breath stealing kiss.

#Keanu Reeves #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves fanfiction #keanu reeves imagine #john wick #john wick x reader #john wick chapter 3 #kind of a drabble i guess #keanu reeves drabble #john wick drabble #drabble #fanfiction #fanfic #john wick fanfic #keanu reeves fanfic

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scrcndxpity · 4 years

Text

�� BEN HANSCOM → IT

❝ you guys are still the best friends i ever had, ❞ ben said. ❝ no matter how this turns out. i just… you know, wanted to tell you that. ❞

❝ i’m glad i remembered you, ❞ he added.

⌜ •° ✦ °• — this is your stop . welcome to 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒 . you must be BEN HANSCOM. a little birdie told me you’re looking for SIREN’S BAR, it’s not too far from here and i’m sure your ANALYTICAL, SENSITIVE + DETACHED self will lead you down the right path. you’ve had TWENTY-THREE years of experience anyway. what were you saying? you DO remember GETTING A LITTLE TOO DRUNK AFTER RECEIVING A FATEFUL PHONE CALL FROM YOUR FRIEND? oh well, good luck with that !! hey, before you go, has anyone ever told you that you give off an INK STAINS ON THE TIP OF YOUR FINGERS, THE SOUND OF SNEAKERS AGAINST PAVEMENT, NEW KIDS ON THE BLOCK BURSTING OUT OF CHEAP HEADPHONES and SELF-WRITTEN NOTES SCATTERED ACROSS THE WALL vibe? i better get going, enjoy your stay !! ── sar , she+her,18+ , gmt+2.

trigger warnings ── bullying, body-image issues, alcohol abuse

+ for the vast majority of his childhood ben was A LOSER; a shy little boy desperately trying to hide and disappear behind his favourite books and unfortunately, being too chubby to do so. it didn’t help that his family moved a lot, travelling after a father who lived the military, and thus leaving ben without the chance of ever making real friends. he was ALONE a lot in those days, always the new kid standing by himself, uncomfortable in his own body and too afraid to speak up in case it’d draw the bullies’ attention to him. it’s the reason he started reading — fictional stories at first and as the different school libraries ran out of intriguing authors to offer, ben switched to historical books; true and truly interesting stories which had passed the test of time... and, of course, poems. their beautiful way of playing with words fascinated him.

+ for a long time nothing ever changed, except of the names of the towns he stayed in. however, as fate would have it and right as ben had accepted the apparent inevitability of his, the hanscom family moved to DERRY, MAINE and ben soon realised that this town wasn’t like any of the ones he’d been in before. instead, it was struck by tragedies, provably leading the national charts in missing people cases and most absurdly? none of the adults seemed to care enough to see.

+ now, what happens in derry stay in derry, and here’s what happened in short:

henry bowers harasses ben to the extreme which has actually left ben with physical scarring on his abdomen, making him to this day ( as well as years of being called the ‘ fatboy ‘ in various schools ) uncomfortable to take his shirt off

the loser club is being created and ben is developing the most adorable crush on the only girl in the group, sending her a poem because we know he loves those, but alas his heart burns alone which he reacts shockingly mature to

pennywise probably gets jealous no one writes poems about his winter fiery red hair and proceeds to scare the living shit out of the losers while also killing other kids

we know the drill: we have a fight, the clown gets defeated and the losers promise to come back in case it ever does — but until then everyone’s moving away, including ben.

+ honestly, it was only a matter of time until the hanscom family would decide to move again and as his father died in the war and with the most recent development – her baby boy? in the sewers? hurt and injured? – ben’s mother chose to leave sooner rather than later. needless to say, it was difficult to say good bye to the losers club and thus to the best friends ben had ever had, but in all the sadness which came with leaving them behind, it would be a lie to say he wasn’t the least bit excited about leaving derry behind as well. he had bled and cried, lost and hurt, loved and not been loved back for long enough in this tragic small town. it was time for a new start and at last, it was a good one !!

+ as a matter of undeniable fact, puberty has done ben well. his final growth spurt in the summer before his start at the new school, alongside with better and healthier eating habits he’d already adopted, allowed him to lose any and all remains of his baby fat — and when he then also joined the school’s TRACK TEAM? we had ourselves a handsome, healthy and most importantly happy young man on our hands, who stood with confidence in his bones and was no longer afraid of the power his own voice held.

+ without having to worry about what your bullies might do or wondering where they might be lingering to get a hold of you, school was suddenly easier than ever. his grades still weren’t fantastic – he still liked to read; less poems now for some reason and most preferably everything and anything that wasn’t on the school’s schedule – but his graduation was successful enough that the adult world welcomed him with open arms and an infinite amount of opportunities to follow whichever dreams his heart desired. so that’s what he did — or at least tried to do. as a kid he had always been a great engineer and builder who could create tree houses, even underground construction from nothing, and it must’ve been a childhood dream come true as he became an ARCHITECT and a successful one at that !! unfortunately, if the lack of happiness which came with it was any indication, it wasn’t his childhood dream.

+ he had been trying to fill the hole in his chest – with work most of all. with women, for a while, but none of them truly interested him. and with alcohol whenever desperate times seemed to call for desperate measures. however, nothing quite managed to rid him of the LONELY feeling buried deep inside his heart. something was evidently missing from his life ( and from his memory ) but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was —– beverly was his best guess, but even she was just a name on a book page he had carried in his wallet for as long as he could remember, and the scar on his chest was though oddly resembling the letter H nothing but a childhood injury he’d probably forgotten. that is, until the call came and with it, mike reminding him of times long forgotten. pennywise was back in derry, which meant the losers club would have to come back as well to defeat it once and for all.

+ terrified and shaken by the memories of childhood trauma, ben walked into the closest bar to give himself the LIQUID COURAGE he couldn’t find within himself to face it again. he may or may not have overshot his goal, his sight going black and the memory of the night fading into blurry darkness. now, as the story goes, he would wake up in the morning, drive to derry to fight pennywise and lose some of his friends, but it doesn’t quite feel like a memory to him. instead, he is in twinrivers, twenty-three again like his whole life has been a nightmare playing out in front of him or existed merely as a shit story in a book he read, and he’s got another shot at finding whatever will make him feel a little less lonely before he’s vegetating.

q . from what part of the canon did you take your character from ?

it’s a mixture of everything, tbh. there’s a whole lot of influence from the movies, because ben is such an adorable bean in it ( as well as all the other kids, like don’t get me started swooning about this cast ) and probably the original miniseries? because child!me watched that so many times. but there will also be some details from the book !! though, it’s been forever since i read it so my memories are a little hazy on that one.

q. what gender is your character, what pronouns do they use and what do they identify as sexual / romantic orientation speaking ?

ben is a cis-male who uses the pronouns he & him. regarding his sexuality and romantic orientation, it isn’t something he ever truly wondered about. he was eleven the first time he fell in love with someone and it just so happened to be the last time as well.

˙ ˖ ✧ — 𝖒𝖚𝖘𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: ben hanscom

˙ ˖ ✧ — 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖊𝖗: ben hanscom

˙ ˖ ✧ — 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖓: ben hanscom

˙ ˖ ✧ — 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓: ben hanscom

˙ ˖ ✧ — 𝖆𝖓𝖘𝖜𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖉: ben hanscom

#trhq:intro #˙ ˖ ✧ — 𝖒𝖚𝖘𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: ben hanscom #˙ ˖ ✧ — 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖊𝖗: ben hanscom #˙ ˖ ✧ — 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖓: ben hanscom #˙ ˖ ✧ — 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓: ben hanscom #˙ ˖ ✧ — 𝖆𝖓𝖘𝖜𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖉: ben hanscom

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aqinox · 5 years

Text

The Cottage

Title: The Cottage

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Ship: Prinxiety

Word Count: 2898

Triggers: None

"We really shouldn't be here" Virgil murmured as he kicked at a pebble on the grass floor.

"Good thing I didn't ask for your opinion" Roman shot back, his wings weaving around a bit to avoid being injured by the branches that surrounded them. Virgil scoffed at this remark, glaring at him.

"Roman, why does it matter if we find our old cottage anyways? It's not like we left anything of importance in there-" He tried, looking around the dark forest he used to know like the back of his hand. Now though, a couple hundred years later, he could barely recognize it.

"For memories sake! Aren't you curious to see what's become of it?"

"Not really" Virgil murmured "It's probably in shambles at this point" He pointed out, still trying to discourage Roman from going in any deeper. What if something happened in here? What if one of them got attacked, or fell off a cliff? They don't even have phone service to call emergency services. Finally, Roman seemed to be taking Virgil's worries into consideration. He slowed down and looked over at his husband.

"Virgil, we've lived for hundreds of years, and we lived through so much shit. Something like this is nothing compared to what we've been through in the past" Roman said, voice soft and reassuring. Virgil bit at his lip and let out a sigh.

"I know Ro, but... I still worry. Now that we have all of these tools in our palm, I'm scared we'll die because of something fucking dumb, you know? I can't lose you after everything we fought just to preserve our lives and love" Virgil admitted, glancing at the forest floor, tugging gently at his hoodie sleeves. He heard Roman fondly sigh, and his head was gently tilted up. There he found Roman looking at him with a clear, loving gaze.

"You don't need to worry Virge, nothing like that will happen, okay?"

"You can't promise that..." Virgil murmured, feeling Roman's warm breath touch his face.

"I can, because I've never let anything happen before now" He said gently, and Virgil raised a brow, opening his mouth to retort only to be cut off "Okay! Yeah, maybe some things have... gotten close, but we're still here today, and that's all that matters, okay? We're both more resilient than humans, we heal faster, and we live so much longer. If we do end up facing danger, we'll work through it, just like we've done in the past. Okay?" Roman said, looking down at his love. Virgil finally gave a small nod, the anxiety and worry in his eyes slowly dissipating.

Roman chuckled softly and leaned down, catching Virgil's lips in his. Virgil leaned into it, and after a few seconds they pulled away, smiling fondly at each other. Roman grabbed at his lover's hand and intertwined their fingers.

"Now that we've made that clear, how about we continue on our adventure, shall we?" He inquired, and Virgil felt a swell of love for this man. Even though he clearly wanted to continue on, he was still giving Virgil the choice to back out now. In response, he nodded slightly.

"Yeah, let's keep going. I am a bit curious to see how our cottage turned out" He finally admitted, and a huge grinned suddenly made its way to onto Roman's face.

"Exactly! Now come on, it can't be that far off from here!" Roman said before turning around, starting to walk in the direction with newfound vigor. Virgil chuckled softly and followed after him.

"How can you be so sure?"

"I'm not!" Roman admitted enthusiastically, and that startled a laugh out of him.

"Of course not, why did I even hope?" Virgil teased, and Roman rolled his eyes and lightly slapped at Virgil's arm. They both looked at each other for a moment and laughed simultaneously. They continued walking through the forest, hands intertwined as they searched for their old home.

_______________

"Holy shit we're close!" Virgil suddenly exclaimed, and Roman winced at the use of the holy name used in vain. Virgil sent him a sympathetic look "Sorry-" He said, and Roman shrugged it off, quickly changing the subject.

"How can you be so sure?" He inquired, and Virgil gestured his free hand vaguely around them.

"I just recognize this place, so we're close-" He said, and Roman raised his eyebrow with clear suspicion at this, but nodded anyways. Virgil gripped at his hand and started leading him to where he had a vague sense the cottage would be. Roman tried to form a protest, but it quickly fell silent when he saw a vague figure in the distance. He brightened suddenly and quickly gripped at Virgil's hand tighter, starting to run as well.

Finally, they arrived at the remains of their cottage, and surprisingly, it was still standing, although the roof had completely broken, all of the wood laying in shambles on the inside of the small building. Although all of the wood was rotting and moss-covered, or had parts breaking off of it

"Wow, we built this cottage amazingly for it to still be standing-" Roman said, a proud grin on his face. Virgil admired the remains of it for a moment before nodding to himself.

"Honestly, yeah- I was expecting all of it to have collapsed by now" Virgil admitted, stepping forward towards it. The actual cottage had never had any windows on it, if only because they were expensive and it'd be too easy for intruders to enter. Same reason that their door opened to the outside, so it would be harder to break down the door.

It had come in useful from time to time.

"Anyways! Let's try to get inside!" Roman suddenly proclaimed, breaking Virgil out of reminiscing "Should we fly up there, or try entering through the front door?"

"I say we try the front door first-" Virgil said, and Roman nodded along, striding over to where the front door was. The handle was broken off and Roman pursed his lips before putting his hand through the hole where the doorknob was and pulling the door open.

Except the door completely fell off.

At that, Roman quickly stepped back with a girly shriek, letting go of the wood as it fell down where he was previously standing. Virgil rushed over towards Roman, who was quickly flushing pink with embarrassment.

"Are you okay!?" Virgil asked, quickly checking Roman's hand for any injuries. At this Roman laughed nervously, scratching at the back of his neck.

"Yeah, I'm perfectly fine- It just... scared me? A bit?" He admitted sheepishly, and at this Virgil looked up and cocked a brow at him, suddenly letting Roman's hand fall back to his side.

"You're a dick" Virgil said, and Roman pouted.

"It's not my fault!" He protested, and at that Virgil just rolled his eyes and went to check and see if they could enter through the now gaping hole in their old cottage. He nodded to himself and tilted his head towards the inside "We can enter from here-" He said before placing his feet on the pieces of wood, pushing himself up as he ducked his head to not hit it against the top of the door frame.

There, he stepped forward, careful to step onto the more stable pieces of wood. He glanced around the small space that he used to call home. He ignored Roman's grunts from behind him as he crawled inside as well. He examined the space quickly. The pieces of furniture they'd left behind still in they're original place, granted clearly messed up from the wood that came down from the caving roof.

"Huh, I forgot we lived in such a small space." Roman commented as he looked around. Virgil shrugged slightly at that.

"I mean, we've never really had the chance to live in the height of luxury either." He countered, wincing slightly as the light from the sun hit at his skin. Roman glanced at him and frowned, flipping up Virgil's hood to hide his face from the sun. Until now the trees had hidden most of the sun that filtered through, but they were currently in a clearing.

"Hide your face, I don't need you getting sunburnt on my watch" Roman said, ignoring his earlier statement as he walked forward, examining their old pieces of furniture. He tried to open up one of the wooden drawers, but it wouldn't budge.

"I hope you realize you won't find anything of importance in there-" Virgil commented as he made his way towards the corner where they used to share a bed. He smiled softly down at the space, even though there was nothing left there.

"I know that! But I'm still curious. It's not like we took everything with us when we left" Roman said, and finally the drawer opened with a loud thunk. "Yes!" Roman called and looked inside, and now Virgil's curiosity was peaked as well. He shoved his hands in his pockets and carefully made his way towards where the drawer was, stumbling slightly as one of the logs shifted under his weight.

"Is there anything in there?" He inquired, and Roman nodded slightly.

"Yeah!" Roman said and stepped to the side a bit to let the both of them look inside. Virgil leaned his head forward and saw some old paper and quills, even a pot of ink. Some candles lay there as well, and for a brief moment, Virgil wondered where the candle holder was. He hummed and grabbed at the quills with a careful touch. While he examined the contents of that opened drawer, Roman tried to open the one under it, although he was struggling a bit since it was blocked by a few logs. Virgil didn't pay to much mind to him.

He noted to himself how a few of the quills had broken tips, and briefly, he wondered why he'd bothered to keep them if they were broken. He quickly left that thought as he looked through the other contents of the drawer, notably the pieces of paper, which looked to be in pretty bad condition, but it could be worst.

Virgil picked up the small stack of paper, being very careful to not damage them. The first few pages were blank, and he placed does back inside the drawer carefully. Then, he found some poems and drawings, and suddenly tears sprung to his eyes. He had completely forgotten about these. Both he and Roman used to write poems to each other, and they both loved drawing, so occasionally, when they had the time, they'd sit down at a very small desk and draw together, or write while simply basking in the presence of each other.

How could he have forgotten about those moments? How could they have left these here, to forever be forgotten?

"Are you okay?" A soft voice inquired. Virgil glanced down, and there he found Roman looking up at him with a gentle, worried look, still crouching down by the other drawer. Virgil laughed slightly and wiped at his eyes.

"Yeah, I'm fine... Just, look at these" He said, and handed the stack of paper to him. As Roman glanced down, understanding dawned on his expression. A smile made it's way to his lips, a nostalgic look finding it's way onto his face. He nodded to himself and slowly started looking through them.

"Wow... I forgot about these" Roman said, and Virgil nodded slightly.

"I forgot about them as well... I suppose in our rush to leave, we forgot about these" Virgil said and leaned his hip again the drawer. Roman nodded slightly before handing them back to him.

"They're in pretty bad condition, but still legible." Roman said, looking back towards the bottom drawer "You wanna bring them back to the apartement?" He asked, and Virgil nodded slightly.

"Yeah... I'd like that. I know they won't last forever, but it's still nice to have them, you know?" He said, and Roman smiled softly, nodding in agreement with his statement.

"Okay then, put them back in the drawer and we'll make sure to take them before leaving, okay?" Roman said, voice uncharacteristically soft as he spoke. Maybe these pages were just as important to him as they were for Virgil. He nodded slightly and placed them back in the drawer and slid it closed.

Then there was a loud bang of the bottom drawer sliding open, the drawer slamming against a piece of wood as Roman fell backward's on his ass.

"You good?" Virgil inquired nervously, trying to not make a scene like he did earlier. Roman looked up at him with wide eyes before nodding slowly, looking at his hands for any signs of injury. Then he nodded more certainly.

"Yeah, all good!" Roman said, and Virgil sighed in relief. Roman was like a toddler, whenever he got hurt he just bounced back. Virgil sometimes wondered how he hasn't gotten a heart attack because of him yet. "Okay then, let's see what we've got in here-" Roman said, and pulled open the drawer just a bit more to see better.

"So, what is it?" Virgil asked, and Roman shrugged slightly.

"Nothing super interesting, just some stuff we used to use for cleaning our clothes and all- Stuff we could spare when we left" Roman said and closed it again, standing up and dusting himself off, his wings quivering slightly as well. Roman glanced around the small area and hummed. "I wonder if we can still access our underground exit-" Roman wondered out loud.

"Even if we could, it's all buried under this wood, it'd take to long to really get the job done" Virgil reasoned, but Roman pouted slightly.

"I knoooowwww, but still, it'd be interesting to see it again." Roman tried, but Virgil shook his head, not straying and letting Roman win this one.

"It's not like there's anything interesting in there anyways Ro... and It doesn't exactly hold a lot of good memories" Virgil tried again, and this time Roman hesitated at tat remark. He stayed silent, seemingly dwelling on that thought for a moment. Finally, he nodded slowly, if a bit hesitantly, in agreement.

"Yeah, it wouldn't do any of us good to live through that again, would it?" Roman wondered to himself, but despite that, Virgil sent him a pained smile. Roman glanced back at Virgil and sighed in defeat, nodding to himself. He pecked his husband's cheek. "Okay then, if it makes you feel better, we won't check it out." Roman said, and he grabbed at Virgil's hand for a moment, squeezing it to reassure him.

"Thanks Ro" Virgil said, voice soft. At that, Roman brightened a bit, nodding a bit.

"Of course Virge, I'd never force you to go through that again" He reassured, pecking Virgil's lips this time before pulling away, letting go of his hand. "Now then! I say we've explored enough, huh? There isn't exactly much else we can look at. There's the river, but I don't believe we want to think back on our hours of laboring to clean our clothes" Roman said, clearly trying to set a less somber mood. Virgil let out a weak chuckle at that.

"You're right, I don't want to remember feeling all sweaty and sticky while grumbling about clothing being a bitch to clean back in the day- We didn't even have a fireplace to dry it by! Only a clothing hanger outside! You remember how horrible it was to have wet clothes in winter?" Virgil said, glaring accusingly at Roman who simply smiled sheepishly.

"I'm sorry?" Roman tried, but Virgil just let out a dramatic huff, crossing his arms in fake disdain.

"Say that to my old, cold self. You need to care for your elders you know!" Virgil said, and Roman rolled his eyes at this.

"I'm older than you! You should be taking care of me!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever" Virgil said, and there was a pause before the two laughed. After a while, they stayed silent, just looking around their small, destroyed, old cottage that still held so many memories of their past, some good, and some bad. It had been home though, and it still holds a place in their hearts.

Finally, after about half an hour, Roman spoke up.

"I think we should go now, before we start getting too tired to walk back" He said, voice gentle. It somehow held both the weight of the memories but was light from being content.

"Yeah..." Virgil said, for once holding back a sarcastic remark as he walked towards the drawer. He slid it open with a bit of struggle, but once it was open, he carefully picked up the stack of papers, even the blank ones. He tucked them safely in his hand, being careful to not crumple them or rip them. Roman sent him a soft smile, grabbing at his hand as he lends him to the exit of the cottage.

"You know the way back?"

"Well, we're about to find out now, won't we?"

"You're unbelievable-"

"You love me"

"Yeah, I do"

From there on out, they slowly walked away from their old house, the memories hanging heavy on their mind as the distance between them and the cottage slowly became bigger and bigger.

Even so, they were content, despite the struggles of their past.

Part 1

#roman sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides #vampire!virgil #angel!roman #fanfiction #slight angst #like #barely there #fluff #mostly fluff #prinxiety

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negasonicimagines · 5 years

Text

Pretty Sure

request: from @xsophie-elisex: “Also hi I love your fics! I was wondering wether I could request one? Maybe something along the lines of reader and Ellie are best friends and roommates (lots of vine references!:3) and slowly fall In love but it’s like the little things, eg : she brings flowers into the dorm and brings Ellie her favourite takeout or buys her eyeliner when it runs out. Just really domestic things. Basically pure concentrated fluff xox”

notes: This request is really cute! I tried my best to do it justice, but I’m not all that good at slow burn, I hope that a lot of the “slowly falling in love” was prior to the events of the fic. Check out freerice.com!!!! Feed people by answering simple questions! (The money is made off the ad revenue, I believe, so turn off your AdBlocker on the site!)

warnings: none!

Your room was always a refuge for Ellie. She’s glad you two are finally roommates, so that she never has to leave.

The fresh flowers, the sneaking into the other’s bed when one of you is having a hard time sleeping, the Vine and meme references… It’s the best.

Ellie does her homework, every now and then looking out at the courtyard. You’re picking flowers with Laura and teaching the girl how to make flower crowns. She catches on quickly, which makes Ellie feel a little dumb. You’d tried to teach her, too, but, despite her texting experience, her fingers just weren’t nimble enough.

Ellie looks back down to her poem, regretting deciding to take the poetry elective her school offers. Now, instead of writing whenever and whatever she wants, she has to fulfill prompts. This time, she has to write a poem about what love means to her. But… Ellie just isn’t really a “love” person, pushing away 99% of warm, fuzzy feelings like that. The only person outside of her close family she can confidently say she loves is you, and even that’s platonic… At least, she’s pretty sure it is. Platonic means friends, and you and Ellie are friends. At least, she’s pretty sure you are.

She looks up again after brainstorming a little more, taking notes on her paper. The poem wasn’t due for about a week, but she’d wanted to get it done sooner, so she wouldn’t have to do it later.

You’re no longer visible, at least through the window. Ellie sighs, not quite sure why that’s so disappointing. She looks down to her notebook, trying to think on her poem more.

You enter, jolting her from her thoughts.

“I brought us some more flowers!” you announce sweetly, going on to identify them: “Wild violets, purple deadnettle, and these little blue flowers that the internet keeps trying to tell me are forget-me-nots, but I don’t think they are.”

“Alright.” Ellie decides to scribble something about that down. She loves flowers, not that she’d tell you or anyone else that. They’re good for symbolism, and pretty to boot. You grin, and Ellie thinks: ‘She’s my favorite flower.’ And then: ‘Wait, what the fuck does that even mean?’ She writes it down, anyway, because she’s pretty sure it’ll help her later on.

Ellie’s phone buzzes, and you sit on her bed while she sits at her desk, chair turned to face you.

“Fuck, they’re having burgers again. Piotr texted me.”

“I know. I’ve got a pizza order already set on the Domino’s app. Just gotta wait ‘til we’re hungry,” you inform her with a smile that she’s pretty sure shouldn’t make her heart stop the way it does. Sometimes you’re just so pretty. ‘All the time she’s just so pretty,’ Ellie corrects herself, practically hearing you say “Oh, only sometimes?” You’re like cotton candy, she can’t help but smile.

“Not that I don’t love to see you smile, but it’s just pizza,” you chuckle, smiling back at her warmly. Suddenly flustered, she looks away, smile falling. “Sorry.”

“Uh, no, don’t be, I just suddenly thought about how people can donate to Notre Dame but not Flint, Michigan,” Ellie fibs, but then she really thinks about it, and she’s sure her expression darkens further with anger.

“Right? It’s such bullshit,” you agree. “It’s a fucking building, nobody even died. You hungry? We could eat and go on freerice.com or kissanime or something.”

“Why pirate an anime? I have Netflix and Hulu.”

“Because fuck capitalism, Ellie. Duh,” you explain.

She almost says it without thinking, which makes her realize she’s pretty sure thought it all this time without thinking. ‘I love you so much,’ she realizes. ‘More than anything.’

“Or we could watch cat videos… You still seem a little tense.”

“Cat videos sound nice,” she agrees. “And I could definitely go for some food.”

“Cool, I’ll order.” You do, tapping around on your phone.

“Thanks, how much do I owe you?”

“Shut the fuck up.” You tell her, no malice to your tone at all. “It’s not a pizza just for you, I’m eating it too and I’d be a gluttonous dickbag if I didn’t share.”

“Gluttonous, huh? Maybe I should use that one in my poem,” Ellie teases you, pushing the disgustingly sweet thought of being in love with you out of her mind, deciding to deal with it another day, maybe not even at all. After all, your friendship meant so much to her. She was pretty sure you wouldn’t abandon her for her feelings, but she didn’t want things to be awkward, even for a little while.

“Oh, please,” you scoff. “Isn’t the assignment, like, love or whatever? Though, I guess love can be selfish...”

“No. No deep conversations. My brain already hurts from trying to force words onto the page. Love’s bogus, and-” ‘And I hate the way you looked at me when you said that.’ “And I wanna eat too much pizza and go into a food coma, not examine the intricacies of intimacy with a dork who’s never even been on a date.”

“Hey, neither have you!” You playfully retort. Your phone dings. “Oop, it’s on it’s way.”

“Nice,” Ellie says. Usually silence between you two wasn’t awkward, but this time it is. Like there’s a conversation that’s supposed to be happening but isn’t. Ellie’s pretty sure she hates this feeling. “So, uh, how was your day?”

“Oh, it was good. Is. You?”

“Mine’s alright.”

“Good,” you tell her. The two of you gaze at each other wordlessly for what must have been a long time, because when your phone dings again, it’s to inform you of the pizza’s arrival at the school. You quickly dash downstairs, casting away thoughts of just how beautifully Ellie’s dark eyes glittered in any lighting, and pick up the pizza. You sneak it upstairs, closing your dorm door behind you.

“Fuck, that smells good,” she comments, and you move her notebook and whatnot from the desk to set down the pizza.

“Ooh, who’s she?” You ask, glancing at a page in her open notebook.

“She?” Ellie wonders, already having forgotten what she jotted down about you.

“Flowers are good for symbolism. She’s my favorite flower,” you say in a hyper-feminine tone, teasing her. She’s pretty sure she’s gonna die if she looks at that adorably smirking face of yours any longer.

“Um- Well, um…” She can feel her face getting red, and that embarrasses her even more. “No one, okay?!”

You flinch away from her before stepping back a bit. Scared. She scared you.

“I- I’m sorry. I just… I like someone, okay? And I don’t like people. So, it’s weird and new and I don’t like it, but at the same time I do.”

“Aw, Ellie, why didn’t you tell me?”

“You-” she starts, thinking maybe, just maybe, you weren’t oblivious to her feelings, and that maybe you even shared them but wanted to give her time to figure it out.

“I could’ve given you advice or something! Even if I haven’t been on dates, I had a couple girlfriends in, like, middle school! And I still get crushes! I like someone, too.”

“Really?” Ellie wonders. She’s glad she somehow managed to mask her disappointment. “Then why didn’t you tell me?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Who’s your crush? Maybe I can help!” You excitedly respond, and while Ellie’s glad that the awkward silence is over, she’s not quite sure she’s ready to play this game of conversational Jenga with you.

“Well, I don’t really have a chance, so there’s no way you can,” Ellie admits, and you pout.

“Come on, El. You’re cute, smart, creative… I’m sure any sapphic sweetheart you’re into that has half a brain wouldn’t pass you up,” You tell her.

“Trust me, she would,” your crush disagrees.

“Well, then I guess she doesn’t have half a brain,” you joke, smiling a little and hoping she doesn’t see the sadness in it. “That, or…” You gasp with a falsey scandalized look in your eye and a mischievous smile on your parted lips. “Does Ellie Phimister have a crush on a straight girl?”

“No, no! She’s not straight, I skipped that phase. I just- I don’t know. I don’t think I’m her type.”

“Why?” You wonder. Maybe through this questioning you could figure out the girl and play matchmaker a little. After all, at least one of you deserved to be happy. Ellie tells you everything, you’re one of the few people she vents to and the only one who lives at Xavier’s. So, if she had a crush on you like the one you had on her, you’re pretty sure she’d totally tell you, even if she thought you wouldn’t like her back, because you’re her safe space.

“I think she likes, or, y’know, at least deserves a nice girl. Or girls. Not sure where she stands on that.”

“You’re plenty nice, don’t be ridiculous,” you argue.

“Well, then, I think she’s into more feminine girls.”

“Ellie, I’m not trying to invalidate you or anything, but you’re not exactly the least feminine person on the planet. Even if this mystery girl is into super feminine girls, I doubt she wouldn’t make an exception for you, you’re still pretty and comfortable being called pretty,” you remind her.

“That’s true, but- But-” She’s running out of reasons for you not to like her. Maybe you do like her, or are at least open to the possibility of liking her? “Well, she- She’s really awesome, and special, okay? I don’t deserve her.”

“I bet she’s great,” you say, suddenly sounding dejected. Had you realized she was talking about you? “But you do deserve to be happy, okay?”

“I’m sorry,” Ellie replies.

“For what?” You wonder, eyebrows furrowed. You’re suddenly looking at her like she’s crazy.

“I- I don’t know. You sounded sad,” Ellie fibs. “I- I thought you figured out who I was talking about.”

“Why would that make me sad?” You ask her, sounding a bit defensive.

“Um, uh… Listen, Y/N, I’m pretty sure things are gonna be awkward for a while after I say this, but I only fully realized it, like, half an hour ago, and it’s already eating me up inside. I’m pretty sure I love you. Like, love-love you. We’ve been friends for ages, so I get if you don’t wanna ruin the friendship, but I’d really appreciate it if you gave me just a chance to be with you. I promise I won’t hold it against you if you’re not interested, but-”

“I didn’t tell you about my crush because you’re my crush,” you blurt, cutting her off. “Sorry, I was trying to wait, but it’s been eating me up inside since we first met, so I think I’m allowed to interrupt you, just this once.”

“More than allowed,” Ellie agrees. “Um… So, uh… What do we do now?”

“I- I guess what we always do? But with kissing and stuff? The pizza’s getting cold, we can discuss the specifics while we eat and if you want that can count as our first date,” You suggest, saying the last part rather quickly, and Ellie nods. “Am I, uh… Am I really your favorite flower? And what does that mean?”

“Flowers, y’know, they’re pretty... Smell nice... Special... Inspiring… Plus, you’re always bringing flowers in, so…” Ellie, a bit embarrassed but finding herself less angry and more flustered now that the truth is out, mumbles.

“I’m pretty sure that’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” you tell her, and she smiles softly, the most genuine smile you’ve ever seen her wear.

“I’m pretty sure this is the happiest I’ve ever been,” she responds, echoing your phrasing.

“Well, I’m pretty sure this pizza is delicious,” you continue the pattern, taking a bite.

“And I’m pretty sure I’m still gonna fail that poetry assignment,” Ellie chuckles.

I’m pretty sure this fic is over.

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erasethedarkness · 5 years

Note

If you are taking requests, "y'know your roof might not be the safest place to stargaze" with aizawa? Your Christmas countdown was very cute and well written! Thank you for all the hard work you put into your writing💜💜💜💜

Ahhh, Starry Anon, you’re so sweet! Thank you for taking the time to read my works and make a request! Interactions like this are just so reassuring and validating, and certainly make me want to write and share so much more. ^^ I hope you enjoy this mashup between your prompt and the “Secret Admirer” prompt for my Valentine’s Day Countdown!

In the Stars -Day 5 | Secret Admirer-

Summary: You were going to do it- you were determined to ask Aizawa out. At least, you intended to, except he didn’t make it back to his office before classes started and you ran late to your first meeting, which set you back clear through lunch. By then, a rumor was in full bloom that he had a secret admirer. Despite your efforts, it was fated for you to remain anonymous that day, so you decided to roll with it and play into being a secret admirer. At the end of the week, you left a simple message for him to find and meet you. With high hopes, you waited beneath the stars.

Theme Song: Waiting for Love - Avicii

Reader: Gender Neutral

Words: 1963

'Where there’s a will, there’s a way' kind of beautiful…

Monday morning. This was it- this was going to be the year you finally did it. You were going to ask Aizawa out even though you’ve never seen the man express romantic interest towards anyone. It was a shot in absolute darkness, but after pining for so long, it would have been worse to let the crush start to fester.

Before heading to your office, you stopped by the teachers’ area, hoping to see Aizawa seated at his desk next to Yamada’s. No one was there. Coats hung on the back of chairs, coffee cups sat on a few desks, but all the teachers were out. Maybe they all had a meeting before classes started? You hung around for a few minutes and leaned against his cleared off desk, looking at the rose and rolling it by the stem between your index finger and thumb before placing it down. Beginning to second guess yourself, you held the edge of the desk as you sighed, closing your eyes as the excitement turned to anxiety.

A glance at the clock alarmed you, and you immediately stood up and half ran out, seeing that you stayed a full 5 minutes longer than you intended to and were now late to your first meeting. You finally slowed to a walk and composed yourself before rounding the corner of the hallway to your office, a student waiting outside for your one-on-one.

By the time lunch came around, five minutes late turned into twenty, and to make up for it, you decided to eat in your office while completing the paperwork that accompanied each student evaluation you did. As you carried your meal past the teachers, you overheard Aizawa getting teased in their gossip.

“He just stood there, staring at and then started working around it because he didn’t want to move it!” Present Mic laughed, making Midnight giggle.

“Really, Eraser? It was just a rose,” she snickered. “Honestly, it’s so surprising that you’ve got a secret admirer. Out of all the single teachers here, someone’s longing for you.” Midnight clicked her tongue with a playful roll of her eyes. “It’s about time.”

“It was probably meant for someone else. I’ll leave it alone so the person can find it where they left it.”

You’d forgotten about that rose when you checked the time, and didn’t have a moment to think of it again until you were reminded. Before giving yourself the chance to step into that conversation, you quickly returned to your office. Being a secret admirer never crossed your mind- you were much more direct than that. If you didn’t have to catch up on work, you would have interjected or spoken with Aizawa when you saw him, but if you wanted your afternoon to run on schedule, that would have to wait.

At the end of the day, you stopped by classroom 1-A to see if he was in, but once again found an empty room. You scoffed at your luck, amused for thinking that it must have been a sign that you shouldn’t confess your feelings. Sign or no sign, you were stubborn, and once you decided this was going to happen, there was no stopping you. As you left U.A., you began to think about what you overheard during lunch. Hell, why not?

Over the course of the week, you had masterfully avoided Aizawa. You were caught by some of the staff members, but it didn’t take much to convince them to keep quiet and let this secret admirer business play out. In fact, they thought it was kind of cute and even helped you out. At one point, Kayama texted you that Class 1-A was on the training grounds so you could stop by and place a cheesy card at the podium. Yamada actually gave him one of the gifts for you and teased his friend a bit with the knowledge he withheld. Fortunately for you, that withholding only went one way.

“I never thought I’d see the day Aizawa had a secret admirer, much less the day that he actually expressed interest and curiosity about it,” he casually mused, reclining on the chaise in your office. “You’ve got him looking over his shoulder, and it’s precious.”

“Looking over his shoulder? You make it sound like I’m scaring the man,” you chuckled.

“Well, you probably are a little bit. He’s never been courted like this. The last person who sought his affections ended up repelling him more than enticing. But at least he’s not running away from the thought of having a secret admirer.”

The words struck a bit of a chord with you. It never occured to you that you could end up pushing him away in playing into the accidental role you embraced.

“When do you plan on revealing yourself anyway, (Y/N)?”

“I was thinking tomorrow, but I haven’t exactly thought of how to yet. None of this was actually planned at first,” you laughed as you confessed that. Yamada sat up and looked at you with raised brows and obvious curiosity, prompting you to explain. “I never intended to be a secret admirer. I just forgot the rose on his desk because I lost track of time and was late for my first student. I nearly interjected at lunch when you and Kayama teased him but didn’t have the time, and when I went to tell him after school, he wasn’t where I looked. All signs pointed to not telling him, but you know the saying, right? Where there’s a will, there’s a way? Well, the secret admirer way seemed like fun.”

Yamada listened as you explained the chain of events for the first day, a smirk pressing onto his lips at the end. “It’s certainly been fun for the rest of us. You’ve caught his attention more than anyone else who’s tried. He’s started anticipating things and tries to get Midnight and me to give you away,” he laughed, standing up. “Shouta’s kinda cute when he’s like this. I almost don’t want you to own up to it, but he deserves the pleasant surprise. I’m sure you’ll think of something good for the big reveal.”

You spent the night thinking of how best to come clean, and by the time it came for your delivery, it was incredibly simple. At the end of the day, Aizawa returned to his desk with a single rose on top of a folded note. Actually, it was a map that highlighted a neighborhood. Giving him your address would be far too easy, and even though he could probably look up which staff members lived in that area, you simply hoped he wouldn’t. Accompanying the map was a crisply penned poem:

Roses are red, and stars shine bright. With the roof, my bed- will you find me tonight?

All that was left for you to do was wait. That’s how secret admirer stories always ended, right? With waiting, high hopes, and a rendezvous?

As night settled, you climbed onto your roof, watching the last of the sunlight disappear. Stargazing was one of your favorite ways to unwind- and you had one of the best spots. Despite Tokyo being incredibly polluted with light, from your little section of the world it seemed like the citylights were just a bit dimmer so you could see the stars. You laid back with a large blanket spread out beneath you, pillow cushioning your hands as they cradled your head. If he didn’t come and everything ended tonight, at least you would be here- one of your favorite places to be, enjoying one of your favorite things to do.

Losing yourself in the constellations, you could have sworn you saw otherworldly dashes of light from one star to another. The longer you stared, the more tricks your mind played. Maybe that was why you enjoyed laying out here so much. At any other time, you fully trusted your head, but in the quiet stillness beneath the stars, you occasionally doubted it. You could afford to doubt it in a time and place like this.

“Y’know, your roof might not be the safest place to stargaze.”

You blinked and turned your head to face the voice, meeting the hero perched on the telephone pole next to your home. With parted lips, you stared at him for a moment. He brought your head back down from the clouds, yet you felt like the reality you returned to was surreal. Aizawa actually came to find you- and what’s more, he bothered to let you know that he did.

“Yeah, and powerlines aren’t the safest surface to run on,” you smirked at him, coming to terms with the moment. After all, this is what you hoped for. “You might actually be safer over here with me. What’dya say?” You sat up and scooted from the middle of your blanket to the side, patting the open space after inviting him to join you.

“I suppose having a hero join you would make the scenario safer,” he agreed, hopping over the gap from the roof and post effortlessly. You swore this man knew how to fly, or at least got damn close to it without having a quirk that made flying a possibility. As he settled into the blanket, you offered him the pillow you were using, helping him get a little more comfortable.

“Just so you know, because you’re over here… you’ve basically accepted the fact that I’m going to cuddle you.”

“I’d hope so, after a week of dropping hints.”

Your cheeks warmed with a blush at his words. His answer sounded so casual, like it wasn’t a big deal at all. Turning his dark eyes to you, he gave you a gentle smile that the moonlight made even softer. He placed one hand under his head on the pillow, and outstretched the arm of his other, inviting you to his body. Without hesitance or making him wait, you laid on your back beside him, using his bicep as a pillow. As you got comfortable, he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, letting you rest your head on his muscles.

For a while, you two gazed at the stars and talked constellations, pointing out new ones and revisiting the stories of old. Gradually, you turned more and more into him, your head slowly moving from his arm to his shoulder, and then from his shoulder to his chest until you were hugging him on your roof and being held in return. Starry words turned dreamy, and in the hours you two laid together, confessions of adoration and budding infatuation surfaced.

Aizawa saw to it that you made it inside safely, watching as you climbed down and through your window. Once inside, you leaned out to look at him, only to watch him lower himself upside down to you. A smile pressed onto your lips seeing him like this, his hair hanging completely out of his handsome face. Looking tired wasn’t something people typically found attractive, but he didn’t look tired even with dark circles under his eyes. Despite being sleep deprived, his mind was sharply awake, and that carried his fatigue with graceful strength. His scarf only slightly drooped down over his mouth, a good deal of the length used to harness him safely. With one hand, he pulled the scarf back, revealing a smile beneath it. You leaned forward, your hands preceding you and carefully taking hold of his face. Gently you kissed him, the angle foreign but the feeling welcome. Just barely, you felt his lips purse back against yours as he returned your affection.

“Goodnight, my starry-eyed admirer.”

…and if there’s love in this life, there’s no obstacle.

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wavesofinkdrops · 5 years

Text

Such a hell in your heart and your head

Okay so I finally wrapped up the piece that I said would contain the poem I previously posted, and here it is!

Warnings: implied sex, non-graphic but implications in descriptions, also generally just not a good mindset, Martin’s been through too much and he needs a break.

AO3 link here

Anyway, enjoy!

(one) he’s a frothing storm greyed, swirling blue his smile is cruel and cold his eyes crash against my soul and even if i’m drowning i don’t care

Martin’s almost forgotten what it feels like to write. His months have been plastered with galring-yellow post-its and memos, scribbled comments on statements that he’s already forgotten. But when he bleeds his heart onto the paper through the ink of a fountain pen, it feels like an old friend he’s forsaken for all too long.

As the pen slides gently against the paper, the quiet ticking of his nightstand clock the only sound apart from the quiet scratch of the pen, it feels… freeing, in a way he hasn’t felt free for longer than he can remember now.

He’s scared. And the only way he can express that is the words flowing from him.

The way Peter had introduced himself. Smiled, looked at him. Strolling into Elias’ office, all too comfortable with it already. Better the devil he knows, and he now wishes Elias were still at the Institute. At least he knew what to expect. Peter has all his cards carefully concealed from view, and Martin doubts that he’ll be allowed to remain blissfully unaware of his hand − at least, until it’s far too late.

Martin has spent weeks observing him, doing what Peter asks of him if only to try and make sure the others remain safe. He’s not too keen to test exactly how many safeguards Elias put in place for his employees before handing the Institute over to Peter. So in the meantime, he’ll bottle his fear and toss it into this ocean of words, smudged ink and paper. Let it sail, until he finally pours it onto a page.

He stares at the single stanza he’s written, and hates every inch of it. Not because it’s poor. He hates it because every word is terrifyingly true.

(two) he speaks like dusk promises tender, soft and sweet words of peach pink whispers of evening dew − and yet the dark threat is always there looming and inevitable so why am i still falling

Peter assures him they’re all safe, as long as everything runs smoothly. He’s a ship captain, he reminds him, and tells him of how he likes a ship running well under his control. He takes care to make sure Martin knows of the horrors that have befallen ill-behaving seafarers and subordinates. But always, he always says the words in the softest tone, his voice a glass-smooth sea, and there’s an unavoidable hardness in it that leaves no potential for misunderstanding.

He tells Martin with honey-laden words how he’s doing a good job, how well he’s doing, and how everything is going so very well. He tells him about how Elias shouldn’t have underestimated him, and Martin wishes Elias were there instead of the utter emptiness that seems to spill from Peter, and it’s sometimes even worse than the feeling of being constantly watched. Even when there’s no one in the room, the overwhelming loneliness has started to take a presence of its own, and Martin hates it. Fears it.

Peter Lukas has promised him fifteen kindnesses and twenty beauties, and Martin trusts absolutely none of them. He’s just as untrustworthy as the rest of the monsters, and he’s sure that none of what he’s said will come true in the sense he wants it to. There’s always some price, always something to pay, always something that costs. But if Martin can pay the price, then he desperately will.

Peter claims Elias underestimated him, but then he’s doing the exact same thing as Elias did, just with his own added flair. Martin hopes that he’ll figure out whatever the hell it is that can get Peter dislodged from his position at the top before Peter hurts someone. What it is, he doesn’t know, but he’ll die trying if that’s what it takes.

He can’t bear to have his friends’ pain on his conscience.

(three) he touches with avoidance treats me with kindness, gentleness but his emptiness tears at me and i’m waking up alone even when he’s right there

The first time Peter lays a hand on him isn’t bad. It’s just a glancing touch, a pressure on his shoulder that’s gone as soon as it came. It doesn’t even come with the overwhelming sense of dread, the drowning sense of loneliness he’d expected. It’s just a touch on his shoulder. And then it’s gone. He didn’t think much anything of it at the time − and now, he realises that’s probably when everything went wrong. Where he fell for the trap.

Ever carefully crafted around him, the net he’s now tangled up in and it’s impossible for him to leave, and Peter’s smile never wavered the whole time and Martin was too damn blindsided by it to care about how he was weaving a trap for him with his words and reassurances, balancing the fear that Martin so very poorly concealed, and the company he so deeply longed − still longs for.

The second time it’s an arm around Martin’s shoulder. A veil of comfort, an iron grip of warning. Maybe even possessiveness. Martin’s not sure he wants to find out the difference. He knows he will, whether he wants it or not.

It’s only once he bends over Elias’ desk for Peter to explore, have at at his heart’s desire, that Martin feels that invisible line between draw impossibly taut, as if it may snap at any moment. Martin’s lonely. Peter is part of the Lonely. Martin’s looking for company, someone, anyone to be with. He misses everyone − Jon, since he woke up, feels like a ghost in his memory, what with how Martin’s avoided him, he’s barely seen Daisy, Basira and Melanie avoid him. He’s landed right in Peter’s hands.

But he knows that Peter feeds on his loneliness. And perhaps that’s where he’s weakest. Peter’s luring him in, and he’s taking the bait.

(four) he kisses me with my agony my tears on his tongue, salt on his smile, and it feels like i bleed alone but i hate that i love it.

Martin’s hand trembles when he puts his pen down, and he forces himself to focus his mind off of all the thoughts buzzing inside of it, refusing to give him respite.

He was right, from the beginning. Peter has a weakness, and it’s his lust. Not his lust for people, he’s far too disinterested in humanity for that. His lust for the despair and loneliness of an isolated soul. And Martin gives him just that.

He wraps a blanket around his shoulders and makes himself some tea, but none of it really helps relieve the chill that’s settled in his bones.

Martin knows that what he’s doing isn’t healthy for him, but then again he doesn’t care what any of this matters to him. As long as it matters for the others. He won’t lose Jon, and Daisy, Basira, or Melanie, the way… No, he’s promised to do this for them.

He’s got Peter hook, line and sinker, the way Elias was there with underestimating him, and Peter’s doing the exact same. He can feel Elias’ eyes on his back, watching him go about his day in his office, record statements and do research. He doesn’t care what he thinks. None of this is up to him anymore. It’s solely between him and Peter, and whatever Peter is planning. He has to figure it out before it’s too late.

And he just might. Maybe, if Peter thinks that Martin’s easy prey − and that’s not a hard assumption to make, Martin thinks, when everyone seems to hold that very same opinion − he’ll stop thinking about it. And then Martin can catch that love for abandonment and turn it around on him. The Fears aren’t kind, and a man who represents one of them must fear it as well.

It’s easier said than done, though, when his skin feels like it wants to peel off, singe off his body, when the rings under his eyes carve deeper and darker, and he feels more leaden each and every day. And yet, he’s terrified when each day, it feels easier to fall into that isolation. So much easier.

Title is from one of Dostoyevsky’s quotes: “With such a hell in your heart and your head, How can you live? How can you love?”

#tma #the magnus archives #my writing #martin blackwood #peter lukas #petermartin #implied #non graphic sex #dubious themes

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sozotohakai · 5 years

Text

15 QUESTIONS, 15 MUTUALS

Tagged by @moon--wake (thank you!)

⭑ are you named after anyone ?

Technically yes, my mom was raised Christian though she grew apart from the religion itself (but not from her belief in God and angels), and when she learned she was getting a daughter (which she had desired but until me didn’t get), she named be Christelle, to be written like this (rather than Kristel for example), and it can be read as Christ+elle (elle being french she). This works perfectly for me too as it shortens to Chris, which is a more gender neutral name, which is rather fun considering mom wouldn’t have known back then I would realize I’m non binary.

Fun fact: my middle name is the same name from an aunt if I recall correctly, one of the few people from my father’s side of the family that mom did like.

⭑ when was the last time you cried ?

This weekend, there was Doctor Who on TV and there was the episode with Doctor Donna so if you know it you know it’s the ending that made me cry. It didn’t help my mind start going “Yooo super angst Wangxian” and I yelled NOPE. Long story short: the episode deals with how the only way to save someone is to erase all memories of the time spend together (including meeting) and how they can’t come into contact with anything that could lowkey remind of said times. Now I’m not okay thinking of how the theme of having forgotten is heavy in DGM ouch.

⭑ do you have kids ?

Nope, unless you count characters I created we always joke that with mom, they’re her grandchildren.

⭑ do you use sarcasm a lot ?

Depends, it can come out of me at random times, its more likely to happen if I’m playing; or if I’m lacking sleep.

⭑ what’s the first thing you notice about people ?

That is a good question... It can vary? But mostly I feel like I take right away into the overall appearance, like... either to recognize them, or store them in my mind so I can hope to recognize them later. I don’t really (or not often) stop at a detail, it’s just, get a reading of the general appearance of someone. After that I pay attention to expressions and how they speak (which is funny to say since I have trouble with eye contact half the time).

⭑ what’s your eye color ?

Brown

⭑ scary movie or happy ending ?

Happy ending, though tbh, I do kind of love scary movie, it’s just that I have troubles actually watching.

⭑ any special talents ?

Uuuuu, I guess, I’ve been told I’m good at emotional empathy? I’ve been able to know when someone felt low just by how they would write. That’s, I believe, the main reason I find my way with words (when I have time to think) because it’s heavily based on my empathy mixed with experience. Like, I feel so much what someone else is feeling, and that’s why I can come with up with words for them and their situation.

⭑ where were you born ?

France

⭑ what are your hobbies ?

Writing, reading, playing games, listening to music, watching videos (Markiplier, React, MMD&Vocaloid stuff, AMV&Anime mix videos, sometimes bloopers and funny stuff).

⭑ do you have any pets ?

I don’t, but my brother and his dad have a cat so he’s like my pet. His name is Grisou (gris = grey so it’s totally a cute naming of his fur colour), he’s playful and seems to view any approach as a signal to play (aka paw at you and try to nip), though he’ll get cuddly at times from what I heard. For my part, we’ve got this ritual that I’ll slowly approach my fingers so he sniffs them (unless I see him about to paw/bite so I dont even try), he lets me pet his head a tiny bit, and then I leave him alone. So he doesn’t try to paw or claw or nip at me because he knows I’ve learned to tell if he’s okay with an approach and when I should stop.

(Fun fact: one time he kind of accidentally hurt my leg, despite my pants he dug fangs and claws too deep and I ended up with a few cuts that bled, I was a bit scared that day and for the next few times I saw him, then I kind of hesitantly start to approach him again, and I think he picked up on it and that’s why he’s a bit more patient with me? I’m the only person he doesn’t straight up claw or paw or nip at, and the few times he does, it’s slow, and/or light).

⭑ what tattoos / piercings / body mods do you have ?

None, sometimes I get the thought of having tattoos, but I’m not sure I’ll ever follow through. But probably if I did, I would got with a small tattoo first just to like, see? I once thought about wolf tattoo, but tbh if I get a tattoo one day, it’ll be a dragon. Oh gosh yeah, a small tattoo of an eastern dragon circling my wrist or maybe higher like close to elbow level, maybe on both side. And after that if I’d have the courage, a western dragon in the back (with feathers wing, I love my dragons with feather wings).

⭑ how tall are you ?

5 ‘7~ I don’t think I’m that tall, but I’m amused because it seems like I’m taller than most of my friends. My brother is even taller than me, he’s 6′/6′1. Or because I’m squinting at the conversion, I’m ~172 cm (and he’s ~185 cm).

⭑ dream job ?

What I’m doing right now, which is work as an independant/freelance writer. Lemme be shameless for a tiny bit and link to my site too, since. Kind of fit with the question.

What’s funny is that, as a child, when it first start to float around, what will you be later, I loved dinosaurs so I thought, I’ll become a paleontologist. I stayed on this path until college, I could feel in me something off, there was nothing else that I could see myself do, so I stick to it, but in college I truly felt how much I just didn’t see myself become a scientist. And it’s totally all thanks to mom and my bro that I realized, hey, writer can be a job too. Then came the hilarious realization that I’ve always been writing or reading, mostly in/for school, but at the end of middle school I discovered fanfics and I never stopped writing&reading those since then (and later rping was added).

⭑ favorite subject at school?

I’ve always enjoyed literature (no surprise here) though to be precise, here in France the subject is called “Français” and is a mix of learning grammar&spelling&punctuation, then all kind of things like analyzing books and poems. It was, in fact, a bit rarer to actually write a story ourself, as it was more about learning the french language and what is expressed in books. But in elementary school I did have a teacher that gave us a homework that was literally just “write a story” and I got an almost perfect mark (in my teacher word: the only reason you didnt was for the grammar&etc mistakes”). While in my mom words, years later, “that was the moment I knew you would become a writer”.

I also adored learning English, I think I do love learning languages in general, but the other languages I tried to learn (Latin for one year, Spanish), the teachers were... not helping. The Latin one was, bless her, good but boring (my mom literally almost fell asleep in a teacher-student meeting, face to face); and my first spanish one had no authority and we barely learned anything, so the next one had to try catching up, but it left me (and those who had come from the same class) with very shaky basics and next to no motivation except just have marks above or equal to average. Compared to those, English was made fun to learn, and then it also got associated with my mind with tons of things (fics, subbed animes, being able to talk with friends).

Tagging: @ask-cross-marian @avellaturortem @shensheng-aoman @xueyaang @crowleiii @illusiive @manadcampbellrpblog @crystallizecrimsonbutterfly if you want to!

#outofhost

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baromaiden · 5 years

Text

A Day Too Late

Jungkook is a shy 18 year old who has a major crush on his childhood friend and classmate Kim Namjoon. Because of a series of unfortunate events the two aren't close anymore. However the possibility of change is presented by Namjoon who invites the shy boy to his birthday party. Maybe this could be a new beginning for both of them or so they thought.

Where Jungkook and Namjoon finally come to terms with their feelings but are a little too late.

*note*

Hello this is my first fanfiction in awhile lol so I hope people enjoy it. Sorry if it's kind of stiff I'm trying to get back in the swing of things 💞 It can also be found on Ao3 aswell! -> baromaiden or follow it on Twitter @charmycho

Chapter 1

Breaking News:

“The small lake town of Paradise morns the lost of a young man tonight. Eighteen-year-old Jeon Jungkook was found dead by the edge of Whalien Lake caused by a fall which result in a head injury that killed him with in minutes of impact. Authorities don’t know why the young man was so close to the cliffs side, but they have determined it to be an accident.”

Two Days Earlier

Jungkook woke up from his bed with a jolt as if his body was jump started, heart beating fast and breathing unsteady. He held his hand to his chest as if to calm himself down from the nightmare he just escaped from. As the fuzzy images start to fade from his memory, he catches his breath slowly.

“That seemed a little to real.” He sighed as ran his hands through hair. His dreams are never this vivid or intense, so it caught him off guard with the wind rushing passed him as he fell into colors of blues and greens.

Jungkook slowly gets up and moves around his room to shake the rest of the dream off making sure to grab his phone in the process. Thus, his usual day begins, checking his notifications as he picks out his cloths for the day. He reads over his usual texts from his best friend Taehyung but that’s not what catches his attention.

September 10th D-2

Jungkook smiles softly at the little reminder that he long forgotten to delete. Old memories play at the front of his mind, days of bike rides, ice-cream eating contest, and wizard fights but before he falls to deep into nostalgia he is interrupted by his little brother.

“Hyung, mom says hurry down before you’re late.” Taehyun mumbles as he rubs his sleepy eyes. Jungkook rolls his eyes as he chuckles softly.

“You’re telling me and yet you’re just waking up too.” Taehyun sighed as his older brother proceed to mess up his already bed head.

“Yah, I’m actually sick so I won’t be late to anything.”

“Is it your stomach again?”

“Yeah its like I’m allergic to everything.” He sighs as he leaves Jungkook in his room to get ready. Being the predictable boy, he was, he dressed himself in a long black t with jeans and his black adidas, complimented with his black hood. He eyed himself in his mirror and nodded at his appearance.

“Jungkook” his mom called as he makes his way into the kitchen. “Hurry up and eat so you can go.”

“Nah I’m good.” He mumbles as he reaches across the spread his mom makes for a packet of pop tarts.

“But I cooked all this for us.” She pouts as she sees her oldest son shove a pop tart in his mouth. He dips he head apologetically and kisses her cheek leaving crumbs.

“Got to go got to meet Tae.” He yells as he dashes through the front door. As he makes his way to his bike, he already sees his best friend Kim Taehyung on his own bike waiting for him. Taehyung has been his best friend since the end of freshman year when I tried out for the swim team. He taken as much good care of Jungkook as equal trouble he’s gotten him in. Though he is mischievous sometimes he’s a good dependable friend.

“Kook, Kookie, the kookanator. What’s happening?” greeted Taehyung as he put his phone away.

“Nothing much as usual.” He said as he shrugged.

“We need to work on that. We haven’t had anything eventful happen to us in a while. Even swim team is starting to get repetitive. “sighed the brown hair boy as he began to peddle his bike with hands in his pocket.

The two boys made it with sometime before the bell ringed, making their way to their lockers next to each other. As they were having small talk and getting what they need to get Jungkook got distracted from loud laughing down the hallway. The culprits happen to be Jung Hoseok, Park Jimin, and last but defiantly not least… Kim Namjoon. Jungkook couldn’t seem to look away from the tall dimpled boy. He was sporting his usual blond hair, dressed casually in a white t, blue jeans, and red converse, his signature look. Namjoon laughed carefree with his friends dimples on full display taunting Jungkook mercilessly.

“Kook, stop staring like an idiot and go talk to him for Christ sake.”

“Talk to who?”

“Kim Namjoon, the guy you are so in love with.” Taehyung grunts a little too loudly.

“Hey, I’m not in love with him.”

“Uh yeah you could have fooled me. When are you going to man up and talk to him? You guys are childhood friends, right?”

“Y-yeah but we haven’t spoken to each other in three years.”

“More like he would say one thing to you then you get all poo brain on him and he retreats from the awkward tension. What happened between you two?”

Jungkook glanced back at Namjoon as memories push forward of their freshmen year and how life got in the way of a lot of things back then.

“Life, I guess.” He shrugged. That answer didn’t satisfy Tae not one bit, but he couldn’t voice his disapproval when they were greeted by the dimpled devil himself.

“Hey Jungkook, Taehyung.” Namjoon greeted with his timid smile. Jungkook quickly shuffled around to properly see the boy.

“H-hey Namjoon” stuttered the shy boy. Taehyung grinned wider at his friend’s nervousness. Namjoon nodded in his direction as he reached for a piece of paper in his pocket.

“I came over to ask you a question, do you remember what’s coming up this week by chance?” Jungkook tilted his head in confusion as he eyed both his friend and the older boy.

“This week?”

“Yeah.” Namjoon said meekly.

See Jungkook knows the answer to this simple question but his nerves aren’t helping with his brain function right now. He knows the very important day that happens every year, he’s memorized it six years ago but unfortunately, he can’t at this very moment. Namjoon pulls out the paper and holds it in front of Jungkook’s face.

“I know this is last minute but here is an invite to my birthday party this Friday or should I say tomorrow.”

Jungkook wanted to kick himself right now. He knew it was his birthday but why didn’t he remember in that very second. He reached for the flyer and read the bright colored lettering.

“Why are you having a party on the 11th if your birthday is the 12th?” Asked curiously.

“So, you did remember?”

Namjoon smiled softly as he cleared his throat.

“Well my parents are out of town till Saturday afternoon so Hobi and Jimin convinced me to throw a party before they come back.”

“You let those two wild party animals you call friends convince you to have a house party?” exclaimed Taehyung as he looked over to the rowdy pair as they had a dance battle in the middle of the school hallway.

“Yeah well I turn 18 so it’s kind of a big deal you know. So… Jungkook would come?”

Jungkook froze dare I say Jung shook as he eyes Namjoon curiously. Jungkook isn’t sure it’s a good idea. Namjoon is popular and there would be a lot of people there. He wasn’t sure it would well. What if Namjoon is only inviting him out of pity? As if seeing the wheels turning in his head Taehyung nudges Jungkook in the shoulder.

“We will be there.” Said Taehyung with that mischievous smile of his.

“Cool.” Nodded Namjoon as back away. “Remember 8pm sharp.”

As Namjoon made his way back to his friends, Jungkook elbowed Tae.

“Why did you do that?” exclaimed Jungkook big doe eye wide open.

“Cause I’m so tired of your pining, Jesus try an actually work some moves on Kim at his party please. Its starting to get sad. Plus, Jung Hoseok will be there, and you know he’s been trying to hit me up since saw me sporting that speedo last week at our swim meet.” Jungkook rolled his eyes so hard.

“Are you helping me or yourself.”

“Both of us?” laughed the brown-haired boy.

The school day dragged on as Jungkook was in deep thought, paying very little attention to classes. His hand, pen in hand moved across the sheets of his sacred notebook. He dumps all his thoughts, hopes, and reams in here. Pages made up of poems, lyrics and list. And if you already guess the subject for most of his writings is none other then Kim Namjoon himself.

But you

That smile is so cruel

Cruel

I shouldn’t have seen that cheek

You

What’s really dangerous

Is only in possession

That dimple is illegal

Maybe Taehyung was right. Well he is right. Jungkook is in love with Namjoon but of course the quite shy boy won’t ever tell him his feelings to scared of how the older male would react. Reject him. Probably. Laugh in his face? Most likely. The two aren’t close anymore. That all changed once high school started and Namjoon fell into the cool crowd while Jungkook hung out with the art kids. However, that wasn’t the only thing that put distance in between the two friends.

Jungkook shuffled through the pages of his notebook to pull a small polaroid of him and Namjoon at Whalien lake. The two sits next to each other smiling with kites that they made together that summer of 7th grade. That’s one of the last photos that they had together.

The bell sounded interrupting his thought singling the school is over. Kook looks at the photo one more time before shoving it in his hoodie pocket with the invitation. The student all moves towards the front of the school to exit the building. Swiftly Jungkook moves through the crowd to head to his bike outside. Popping his headphones in then hops on and heads home.

He continues to be lost in thoughts of Namjoon and what they were finding that summer day by the lake playing over and over in his head. Jungkook slows his bike down and turns to his right staring at the woodsy area that leads to the lake. He ponders for a second before heading towards the clearing. Slowly he makes his way down off the path to the beach retracing steps he took as a kid till he got to his favorite spot, the high cliffs of Whalien lake. He laid his bike down as he climb the short path of rocks till, he gets to the top of the flat ridge just above the beach of the lake. See Jungkook and Namjoon found this place years ago by accident as they were exploring from the public beach on the far right.

“Ugh, it feels good to be back here.” Smiled Jungkook as he sat in the middle of rock.

He pulled out his notebook opening the book to a new page. Carefully he pulled out his pencil case grabbing the roll of tape he kept in there. Jungkook pulled out the invitation and the photo from earlier.

“Wow. Who knew you would talk to me again? Even after everything that happened.”

Jungkook was filled with excited thoughts as he taped the invite into his book. What if he did want him at his birthday party? Maybe he wanted to be friends again? Or maybe he was just being nice? However, Jungkook was to ecstatic to care. This could be a new beginning from them to burry that hatchet and move on. Maybe even the chance Jungkook need to tell the dimpled boy how he really feels about him? Could he really do that? Confess? That was something out of his comfort zone but right now he feels like he might be able to tell him. Tell him that he loves him dearly even after everything that happened.

Jungkook sighed in content as he looked at the lake daydreaming about his crush.

Soon it starts to get dark in his little corner of the world, so he decides to start packing up and heading home. Notebook in hand Jungkook gets up to head down where he came from till something caught his eye. He turned around and saw the small polaroid that he cherishes so much getting picked up by the wind. Jungkook lunges for it right as the its being flown away over the edge of the cliff.

“Got cha.” Exclaimed Jungkook happily... unaware of his surrounds. His knee in front lands just beyond the cliff’s ledge.

Jungkook tries to catch himself but both his hands full one with the photo the other with his notebook, his efforts are in vain…

He falls.

Thank You for reading 💜

#bts #bangtan #baromaiden #bts jimin #bts jhope #bts jin #bts jungkook #bts v #bts namjoon #namkook #bts yoongi #bts vhope #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts au #bts au fanfic

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