#myff

[halfwayriight]

[andyacklesspn]

« THE TRIO »

[breakboxes]

farewell ,

[uraberika]

Paparazzi

Rating: T Fandom: Inazuma Eleven Chapter: 1/? Relationship: Domon Asuka/Urabe Rika, Ichinose Kazuya/Urabe Rika Characters: Domon Asuka, Urabe Rika, Ichinose Kazuya Summary: Domon Asuka is a twenty-something fashion journalist stuck between last-minute speed-running articles at midnight and editing photos of fashionistas who think way too highly of themselves. But when he accidentally ruins the career of celebrity model Urabe Rika, he finds his life suddenly turned upside down as he is forced to help the insufferable fashion icon (quite literally) get back on her feet. On other platforms: AO3

A/N: This work is inspired by a model!Rika AU by @inazuma-art from like four years ago (check her art of model!Rika here). The recent actor!AU by @misfitmiska and @irisviel101 might have also inspired me to create this celebrity/model!AU. :D I first had this idea years ago and then completely forgot about it, until @frosty-tian asked me about DoRika and now I have the urge to turn my idea into something written. I have some ideas as to where I want this story to go but I have yet to write most of it so updates are most likely going to be sporadic.

To put it plain and simple: Domon Asuke was fucked and he did not know what he had done to deserve this. Everything started great when Domon woke up in the morning, fresh and well-rested, a feeling he rarely encountered in his busy life split between last-minute speed-running articles at midnight and editing photos of fashionistas who thought way too highly of themselves. So when Domon woke up energized in the morning, he should have been more suspicious, really. But it only occurred to him after he had brushed his teeth and had his lazy morning coffee to glance at the digital clock on the coffee table which was… in the simplest of terms… not working. The numbers 04:32 were blinking on the screen accusingly, which could only mean that there had been a power shortage at around dawn. The third fucking time this month. Domon stopped dead in his tracks (and in his pajamas) to take a look at his phone. Shit, it was already 8:30. The journalist cursed, throwing his phone in his bag while trying to strip off his pajamas at the same time. Shitshitshit, he elaborated further to himself as he haphazardly threw on a shirt and plucked his camera’s battery from its charger on the wall. He hoped that despite the shortage, the batteries still had some juice in them. He quickly tossed the camera into its textile case, pondering his options. If he managed to catch the metro leaving in seven minutes, he might just make it. He cursed his stupid decision to have moved the digital clock into the living room, but the bastard machinery made such ungodly alarm sounds that it would give him a heart attack if it would go off in his bedroom. Hit by a sudden burst of determination, Domon slipped on his loafers and closed the door behind his apartment with more force than it would have been necessary. His shoulder bag was practically holding onto dear life as he made a run for the station, ignoring the curious stares he earned along the way.

He just cannot fuck this up, not when this was his biggest opportunity ever since he entered the scene of fashion journalism, just fresh out of college. Domon has been working as a fashion journalist for four years now, and maybe that was the problem: maybe his content started to lack originality or it was just due to the sudden rise of self-proclaimed tik-tok influencers, make up artists and thrift girlies, but Domon was not doing so well in terms of money. His agency paid him by his articles, but also by the popularity of his articles which left a lot to be desired in terms of engagement. Domon was sure that it was the internet’s fault: these youngsters raised on five minute make-up tutorials would never be able to understand the fine details of the honored craft that was fashion, let alone read about it!

But this gig, he swore to himself he wouldn’t fuck it up. It was Tokyo Fashion Week and every reporter worth their salt from teenage girls on social media to world famous fashion moguls fixed their gaze (and pens and keyboards and cameras) onto the imposing catwalks of the capital of Japan. Domon, being a mid-tier journalist at an averagely acclaimed journal with a dwindling fanbase, failed to snag a press pass (not that anyone expected him to get one in the first place). Luckily, his best friend came through: Ichinose Kazuya, world-renowned football player, fashion icon and the object of adoration of many adolescent girls had managed to pull a few strings and get him a press pass. Ichinose could convince the hot model chick he was currently seeing to put in a good word for Domon’s agency and the next day, Domon found a velvet black lanyard on his desk with his name and “PRESS” on the tag. Domon was most grateful for his best friend’s help which made the fact that he might just miss the whole shabang starting at 10:00 am even more so embarrassing. 

He tried not to cringe too hard as he stepped out of the metro car he luckily managed to catch, and took off, taking the escalator two steps at a time, ignoring the other passengers' scandalized stares. Of course this would happen on the only day when everything hinged on him being in the right place at the right time! As he quickened his steps (he still needed to cover ten minutes of walking within seven minutes, or ideally, within five) he tried to make a mental list of any potential disasters. He had no clue how long his camera’s battery would last, but if push came to shove, his Iphone made decent pictures enough. Since live streams were forbidden during Tokyo Fashion Week, novelty preceded quality: the first ones to report on the event got the most views, not those who had the most perfect pictures. Domon would try to take perfect photos anyway, but he was not in a position to aim higher than “good enough” at the moment. 

If he was really honest with himself, for all the glitz and glamor, Domon was not fond of fashion weeks anyway: they tended to center around female clothing too much, while his main interests lay in men’s streetwear. But obviously, Ichinose’s chick asked the lanyard for Domon specifically which might have earned him some jealous glances from his female colleagues in the office who would have been much more suited for Fashion Week, but he felt little remorse: fashion was a dog-eat-dog world after all, just as much about connections as craftsmanship.  

Domon’s lungs were begging for mercy but he was not in a merciful mood at the moment. The building was a glorious tower of glass windows with multiple stories and it seemed to be shining condescendingly down on him as he pushed the glass doors open with much less grace than the occasion would have required. He waved his pass at the security guard, then scanned it at the electric gate: he was lucky that his show was on the ground floor. As a good journalist, he had done his research before the event: he knew that the collection presented by the fashion brand Aldena would be centered around buzzwords like “chic”, “formal wear” and “postmodern” which honestly gave him no clue on what to expect other than it was surely to be way out of his comfort zone. 

The door was already closed but thankfully it gave when Domon pushed the silver handle down. He glanced at his watch: 10:02. He barely just made it. The commentator was already on stage surrounded in the sharp white halo of stage lights, and he was in the middle of introducing the collection. Thankful for the dimness, Domon made his way among the rows of seats, whispering soft sorrys and trying to ignore the low grumbling of those who were forced to stand up to let him through. He peeked a glance at his pass to find his seat: A22, the letter corresponding to the row and the letter to the seat. In regular shows the lettering of rows usually started from the back, A referring to the furthest row, and the one closest to the end of the alphabet would mean the closest one to day runway. To Domon’s shock and surprise, Tokyo Fashion Week did the reverse: the journalist tried to calm his heartbeat as the realization hit him that he was going to be sitting in the first row. 

Shit, Ichinose’s girl was not fooling around, that’s for sure! The poor woman must be smitten with Ichinose if she arranged a seat in the front row for his best friend, someone she could have only heard about. Ichinose was very adamant about keeping his love life and professional life separate, and Domon separate from both of those things. Despite Ichinose’s good appearance and charming personality, the football player failed to keep a girl for more than three months and he did not want to risk his friends getting way too attached to any of his girlfriends for that reason. The tabloids called him a womanizer but Domon suspected that his best friend might have some underlying issues concerning commitment and that was why he was secretive about his partners, even in front of Domon. The journalist humored Ichinose for his nonsense, understanding that this was his way of regaining some control over his life. Not that Domon would not instantly side with Ichinose if he had any sort of conflict with his girlfriend: their friendship ran deeper than that, he made that clear to Ichinose a long time ago. Bros before… supermodels, or something like that.

The presenter now moved aside and the stage light increased tenfold the same time as the lights above the audience went out. Right, time to get to work. Domon took out his camera and angled it towards the stage.

The first model to enter the stage was a petite girl with bubblegum-pink pigtails. Her hair was styled in small little bubbles and the orange eye makeup only further enhanced her youthful features. To snag a position at a brand like Aldena so early on in one’s career can only mean that she was especially talented, Domon knew this much at least. He did not know whether to be impressed or feel pity for the girl for dropping into the fashion scene at such a young age. Shaking himself out of his thoughts of sympathy, he turned his head to observe the outfit. The model was wearing a two-piece set made of black satin that glistened under the white stage lights.The legs of the dress pants were exaggerated to absurd proportions, exceeding the size of regular flares; Domon could almost hear the swooshing of the material as the model passed him. Embroidered fire lilies climbed up her pants’ legs in orange and salmon threads; her blazer had the same pattern on the lapels. The model wore a comically ruffled white blouse under the blazer and the whole outfit was topped off (if Domon could afford the pun) with a top hat. The journalist broke out in cold sweat. The outfit was no doubt pretty but this style was way out of his league; he did not know if he could do it justice in his writing. He felt dread climbing up his throat. What the hell was he doing here anyway? He looked around himself in panic; the guests seated were all dressed in over-the-top outfits with crazy accessories and here he was, just regular old Domon in a black t-shirt and cargo pants. The realization hit like a punch to his gut: he was severely underdressed and severely underqualified for this event.

By the time the girl reached the end of the runway, Domon managed to gather his bearings.  The journalist rarely felt small but the atmosphere of the crowd emanating such high class and professionalism started to mess with his head. However, he would not fuck up this up; he had promised himself he would not. Most importantly, Domon could not put his childhood best friend to shame after he went so out of his comfort zone to help him. He reached for his camera and quickly snapped a few shots only to fight back an exasperated groan. Ichinose’s girl might have managed to snag a spot in the front row but the seats were arranged in the shape of a U around the catwalk and his place was the last chair at the end of the U, almost at the jut of the stage. It was impossible to get a good shot from here, by the time the model would be close enough for Domon to capture the outfit, she would be obscured by the expensive-looking velour curtains on the two sides of the stage. Domon grumbled and got out of his seat. He would need to move closer to get a better shot. Getting up seemed like a rude gesture at an event like this but Domon's previous experiences at fashion shows were that photographers with little inhibition would do that every now and then. And oh boy did Domon not give a fuck about these mighty ass fashion moguls at the moment! He still crouched down to avoid causing an uproar amongst the people sitting behind him: there was brave and there was foolish and Domon prided himself in usually knowing the difference. 

The next model appeared on stage and Domon’s heart jumped in his throat. The woman was tall, taller than the previous model at least and her height was further played up by her hairstyle: she was wearing blue-black box braids twisted into a large bun on top of her head. A few braids slipped their confinement (or, more likely, intentionally left out by a hairstylist) and showed off how the model’s own blue hair transitioned seamlessly into black extensions midway through the braids. The contrast was striking, especially with her vivid purple makeup, complimenting her dark skin. For a moment Domon, forgot to look at her outfit, completely enthralled by the extravagance of the model herself. Then he was all professionalism again, observing the clothes in front of him. The model was wearing a form-fitting lilac dress, satin ruffles cascading down the neckline. The dress was most likely an off shoulder one but the woman’s shoulders were obscured by an oversized dark blue tuxedo jacket ornate with digitally printed roses. The influence of Y2K, his brain helpfully supplied, as his writing gears finally started kicking after much delay. The homage to the early 2000s is clear in this design of Aldena’s: the digital floral print gracefully mingles with the sleek and clean style of formal wear. The overexaggerated, floor-length swallow-tails pay a respectful nod to the high-fashion of corporate dressing as  while doing justice toAldena’s personal style that is usually characterized by the enlargement of garments to an almost disproportionate degree. Yes, that definitely sounded professional in Domon’s head.Engrossed in his own thoughts about his article, Domon almost forgot to take pictures, yet again as the model finished her poses at the end of the catwalk and turned to leave the stage on Domon’s side. The journalist crept a few steps closer again and his loafers bumped against the ridge of something hard, causing his stance to waver in his awkward crouch. To save the precious cargo, Domon raised the camera in his hands up above his head on instinct as he tried to regain his balance. He looked down at his feet and realized that he had gotten too close to the stage: he managed to bump into the large cables running along the foot of the elevated platform of the catwalk. He let out a shaky breath in relief: he had almost tripped over them and mentally chided himself for his unawareness. He could have fallen! Just as the thought crossed his mind, Domon felt a tug at his hands and suddenly, the camera was abruptly jerked from his hold by the strap of the machine that Domon should have been wearing around his neck. He turned his head in fear towards the catwalk, towards where his camera disappeared but the stage lights were too blinding for him to see anything. Unfortunately, his hearing was working just fine: he heard the sound of lens shattering as well as the deadly silence that fell onto the ridiculously large room afterwards. Then, the woman on the stage fell over with a dull thud and a sharp scream. Chaos erupted.

[esperinkdraws]

It’sBeen84Years.gif

I finally posted another fic in my Taking Care series!

[chickabee]

Fic of a fic for a friend

This happens between ch 6 and ch 8 of mth

it's an AU for @ppg-artss starring her oc Aliyana Ye boiiiiiii

(and my characters make a cameo cuz i gotta insert them 🙈🤡)

No beta's or nun, just did this for fun. so there's probably stuff spelled wrong and things that r grammatically incorrect, also... It's not finished lol

Aliyana walked stiffly into her new apartment, feeling the bag in her hands weighing her down.

Her eyes roamed up to the ceiling, taking in it’s extravagantly tall height. She’d been in apartments and homes like this. Luxurious and big. She wondered what she’ll even do with all the space, being that she was for the first time in her life, living alone.

The apartment was mildly furnished. They had already set up a picture, the couch, a side table, her living room looked fairly expansive and nice. Especially with all the light coming in from the window. 

She set her bag down and slowly made her way over the white carpeted floor. The window was taller than her, so she’d need to fly up to close them. She walked past her reflection in the mirror, her hair was tied up and she had a light jacket with a white shirt under, and some jeans. She looked out over the city.

Being on the fourth floor gave her quite the sight.

She looked across the landscape of buildings and crossing streetways, wondering…

Wondering if she’d see some familiar pattern in the sky-

“Aliyana.”

The voice spooked her. 

She jumped a little startled and turned around.

Penny looked immensely proud of herself as she entered the apartment. She smiled wildy and stretched out her arms as if to say, “Ta- da!”

“So…” she started.

Aliyana gave a blank look.

Penny caught on to this and dropped her arms but kept up the excited charade, “What do you think? It’s nice right?”

“Yeah, it’s nice-” Aliyana’s words are cut off by a loud thud. Both ladies turn their attention to the front door where the thud was heard just outside of it.

“You guys good?” Penny called out.

The men outside grunted, “Yep, we got it,” Aliyanna could hear them answer, in a strained voice. 

She dashed over, “I can help them…” her words cut off as she takes in the gigantic television they’re hauling in. “You know…” she finishes in awe. She shakes her head and goes to grab it, alieving the men of the weight.

“Thanks Aliyana!” They say in unison, before rushing back to the truck to retrieve more things.

More things she hadn’t initially packed for this trip.

“It’s no problem!” she calls after them, with a skeptical expression. She carries the TV back in.

“Aw look at you,” Penny says in a sweet voice as she crosses her. “Always trying to help. You’re too sweet you know?”

The T.v is set against the wall and Aliyana stands up straight looking up and about, mind reeling, “Yeah you know, I didn’t exactly ask for all this extra stuff.” she turned back to Penny.

Penny blinked, and and then did a little cheer, “but it’s so great!”

“But it’s going to take up a lot more room,” Aliyanna responded, not really amused, though she tried not to look to indifferent to it. This stuff looked expensive. “And it’s going to be a lot to pack up.”

Penny gave her an unsure look, “Um… yes?”

“So, why am I getting all this stuff?” Aliyanna finally sighed. She sat back on the arm of her couch, crossing her arms, “I thought J.S was only sending me here for the summer.”

“You don’t want to be left without a Television.”

“Why am I getting an entire apartment, is what I’m saying?” Aliyana inserted, unconvinced.

Penny looked at her a moment before dropping the campy act, “Look, I don’t know why J.s sent you out here-”

“I don’t have any friends or family with me,” Aliyana continued on. “I don’t even know anyone here except the rowdy ruff boys” she gave Penny a stern look, “And you know how I feel about them.”

The curly haired lady adopted a sympathetic look, “Aww, still feels weird talking to your ex?”

“Penny!”

“What” she shrugged, feigning naivety. “It’s cute. Young dumb, highschool love is always cute.” she fanned off.

“That isn’t the point!” Aliyana clammored. She could feel her face tingling with a familiar sensation. She shook it off, “J S inc sent me here out of the blue.” She began to think her brows firming, “Somethings going on… somethings… I feel like Darius is behind something,” she said. Her eyes that were turned to the ground, thinking, flickered up to Penny.

Penny had looked far away and took a moment to respond, but when she finally came to, she simply shrugged, “You’re just over thinking things.”

This did not sway Aliyana, she opened her mouth to speak again, but there was another loud thud.

Again, both ladies turned to speculate.

Three men stood around a marbled coffee table.

One of the men wiped at his brow and took a deep breath.“Whew, Anthony’s got expensive touch.”

“Expensive indeed honey,” A flamboyant voice responded by Aliyana’s door. Anthony wore glasses and a scarf and extremely tight jeans. He was very artistic and knew his shit. 

He strutted about the apartment, “chop chop with the furniture, I want to get the lighting in here fixed. These built ins are killing my eyes.” The other men hustled out as he walked beside Penny.

“You’re doing pretty good,” Penny smiled around, amused.

“Please,” he huffed, “This was just a side project I talked Smith into. You know I couldn’t send my girl off into just anything,” he said, looking at Aliyana. Penny touched at her chest, heart-felt and puppy eyed.

Aliyana rolled her eyes, “I’m not staying here for long.”

“You’d better not,” Anthony immediately responded. “If I can’t see you walking by my desk every morning I’m leaking the photo’s I found on Smith’s computer.”

“She won't,” Penny urged. “Smith know’s better than to leave this little diamond here.” she said reaching a comforting hand to her cheek.

“He didn’t know better to keep the other ones,” Aliyana muttered turning away. She didn’t see Penny’s face fall.

“Well, you know to give us a call,” Anthony said turning away, “If anything happens that is. Don’t party to hard.” He said walking away and catching some workers slacking. He shooed them to their places.

Penny turned to Aliyana, “He’s got the right idea,” she said in a little voice. “Go party. Live life. Be a normal teenager for once, you know?” she said, giving a very gentle, reassuring gaze. 

Aliyana’s gaze was casted to the coffee table. One of the workers had dropped a magazine on it, and on the cover was three boys she’d never thought she’d see on a Townsville magazine.

Aliyana finally huffed, “I just don’t understand why I was sent on vacation here.”

*****

It was night fall and it felt a little weird being in an entire apartment to herself. 

She had switched into her pajamas, some shorts and an old tee, hours ago when she figured she wouldn’t be doing anything for the day but sitting around.

How did you even get to know people during the summer?

She flopped on the couch, bowl of chips in her arms and scrolled through the channels boredly.

“I’ve never actually seen a unicorn before, but I believe in them!” 

Aliyana’s wrist went limp. She clicked the up volume button as the crowd behind the screen applauded.

*****

“Turn to channel 6, Bubbles is on!” Boomer lit up.

“Go watch it in your room,” Butch replied boredly, eating cereal. The remote was taken from his hand, “You little-”

“I can’t miss one second of this! I-I promised her I’d watch it!” his brother responded, putting in the channel. He then turned to Butch, “Is that Brick’s cereal?”

The remote was wrenched out of his hands, “Fine whatever,” Butch said stuffing his mouth with Lucky Cap’n’ Rabbit King Nuggets, “But only because Buttercups up there,” the last of his words were muffled behind the cereal as he chewed.

The audience laughed as the camera turned to a very pretty, very well dressed Bubbles. She beamed brightly.

‘How would you say, is the best way to deal with mean people at your school? Are they not like monsters as well?” The host asked.

Boomer leaned forward, “Gosh, she’s so pretty.”

“Gosh, you’re such a dork,” his brother mocked behind him, stuffing his face more. Boomer ignored this.

“They aren’t really like monsters. Not big one’s at least! Besides, everyone has a bad side, it doesn’t make them bad!”

Buttercup interrupted her, ”I’d say, the best way to deal with bullies is with my fist in their face,” Buttercup interjected and the crowd obliged her with some applause.

“Hell yeah Buttercup, you tell them,” Butch rooted from the couch.

“I think that there are way more sufficient and reasonable ways to handle bullies in school,” Blossom spoke up, giving her sister the eye.

Butch jumped up, “Now that’s something to stay tuned for,” he said readjusting himself. 

Boomer threw a pillow at him “Shh! You’re talking too much, I can’t hear the TV!” he grabbed the remote from butch and turned it up more.

“The best way to deal with bullying is to tell a teacher. Always get authorities involved. Speak up! Your school cares about your well being.” There was courteous applause about the studio they were in.

Butch scoffed, “Bor-ring!”

A door suddenly opened. Both boys looked over to see Brick.

“Why the fuck is the TV blasting?” he glared, less interested in why was the matter and more interested in how to put an end to it.

“Oh Brick, look, The girls are on TV!” Boomer said pointing fascinated at the screen.

Brick frowned and looked just in time for the camera to turn from Blossom. 

Brick scowled, “Why the fuck should I care?” Before either of his brothers could respond, he snatched the remote from Boomer and turned it off.

“What the hell!”

���Bed time,” he grumbled.

“Dude, it’s summer,” Butch said.

“I’m sorry, but are you the one sleeping on the couch?” Brick challenged.

“It isn’t our fault you ruined your bed!” Boomer clammored.

“It’s going to be your fault that you’re in a hospital if you don’t shut up and go,” Brick warned glaring at both his brothers.

They groaned but moved anyway.

—--

“Our friendships… we’ve known them since like, elementary school!” the blonde one, Bubbles said, with a far away look. The audience cooed at this. 

Aliyana was watching with a very attentive eye. It was starting to sink in that these were ther girls she’d be seeing flying around. It just didn’t seem real.

“Well, on the topic of relationships Bubbles,” the show host started, The audience ooh’ed. The camera was back on her face and she was grinning, albeit a bit shy, “We’ve seen your past beau’s, but this new one, he seems like a bit of a trouble maker,” The crowd seem to grow louder, as well as the blondes blush. 

Aliyana was leaned so forward, she almost rolled off the couch. The chips fell from her bowl. 

Shit! That was going to leave a stain and she just got these carpets!

Frantically, she went to the floor, on her knees to clean it up.

“There’s a particular blonde boy. A rowdyruff boy we believe. You’ve been spotted hanging with him recently.”

Aliyana peeked from over the table as the camera zoomed in on a flustered, blushing Bubbles. She had this far away, delirious gaze, “well…” she spoke up, grinning, “I guess he is quite cute-”

“But he’s just a friend!” Blossom added. “Just a well known friend.” she added a convincing smile but the audience whistled and cooed anyway.

The TV suddenly sparked black.

Aliyana, remote in hand, sat on her knees in front of the chip bowl, looking past it at the stain it already left on the ground, though… her eyes were looking very far, past even that.

She could remember, the first time she saw Boomer, sitting in the Garden of JS, strumming at an acoustic. She’d never seen a guy like him. 

The sun was just right, the flowers around him were all in place, and then he caught her spying on him in the reflection of a window, and he turned with a curious expression.

She shook her head viciously and picked up the last of her crumbs, ready to go to bed.

—-------

Townsvilles mall was large and bustling, which was to be expected. 

Aliyana stood by the entrance digging into her purse. She’d hope she brought everything she needed for the day, because she’d be spending the most of it here anyway. 

She sighed and shouldered her purse, blending into the crowds.

There ceiling had a huge window that allowed in enormous sunlight and worked with the smaller decorations throughout the walls and ceilings. She was on the second floor, but the first floor had a fountain you couldn’t miss. 

She looked along the stretch of stores, trying to decide on where to go first. 

This was normal. Going to the mall alone? It seemed everyone else went with a friend but, whatever, she couldn’t sit at the house all day.

Well she could but… why the hell not? What did Townsville’s style had to offer. 

Her stroll slowed past Guitar God. She got a glimpse into the store to see it looked like any other old music store. She paused and considered…

No. No. She wasn’t coming to the mall to mope around about a boy she’d purposefully forgotten, even if she did spend the entire night tossing and turning thinking about him.

She came to the mall for a new change in pace. To “be a teen for once” as Penny put it. 

It would be just her luck if she bumped into him though. 

At this point, what would he say? What would he do? Did he look the same? 

Did she look good?

She shook her head.

There was a clothing department that caught her eye and she scurried into it before her thoughts could take her too far away. 

She felt a little awkward walking in. It smelled very sweet and some Britney song was playing over the speakers. She bit at her lip as she looked across the store, trying to find an area to start in.

She caught some summer dresses and figured she’d start there. She began rummaging through the rack.

“But I have to find the dress, Boomer picked it out for me!”

She halted.

It seemed he was very popular around these parts. 

Some girl, short, brown curly hair and oddly pink eyes stood puppy eyed in front of another girl with red hair and oddly red eyes.

“Lillian, you have to move on! You need to put this back!”

“But I can’t!” the pink eyed girl pouted.

A brown skinned girl with blue eyes and dark brown hair came around the corner with an exasperated look, “Just let her keep it Meghan.”she huffed, “You knew she was going to come in here for this anyway.”

“No. NO. I’m putting my foot down and I’m going to be a good friend here,” the red head interjected sternly. She whipped the whimpering pink eyed girl to her, “Lillian, you’re only setting yourself back buying that dress because of him.”

“No!” she pouted, crushing said dress to her chest.

The red head gave her a look of disbelief before turning away and throwing her hands in the air, “Ugh! This trip was pointless.”

The pink eyed girl seemed to be very conflicted. Her eyebrows were arched up wearily. Aliyana had slowed her shopping substantially to eaves drop on the conversation. She met eyes with the puppy, pink-eyed girl, then quickly averted her gaze.

Though it was too late because she sensed her approaching.

“Does this color look nice on me?”

Aliyana stepped back from her rack and looked over.

She had big round eyes and a gentle face. She held the dress in her hands to her chest.

Aliyana pulled her lips into a tight line, “Um… yeah. Sure. It looks great.” she turned back to the rack.

The pink eyed girl was suddenly over her other shoulder, doe eyes blinking at her, “Do you really mean that?”

“Ah!” Aliyana stumbled back into a close by rack.

The girl was sheepish. She hurried to Aliyanna, notably floating, “Sorry!” she said, holding out a hand to help her up.

Aliyana chuckled, “No worries, you startled me a little there.”

“Yeah… I do that a lot,” she said, wincing a little.

Aliyana chuckled awkwardly more, “It’s fine.. It’s you know-”

“That’s a cute outfit you’re wearing,” the girl said suddenly.

Aliyana took a moment and looked down at herself. She was wearing a skirt and a halter top with sandals, “Um, thanks!”

“Yeah, no problem, Lillian by the way,” the pink haired girl said, pressing her index fingers together and looking down.

“I’m… Aliyana,” she responded reaching out a hand. 

Lillian took it and shook it, “My friends and I are doing some shopping for the summer.”

“Oh, nice,” Aliyana said, grabbing her purse with both hands, “I am too I mean,” she suddenly laughed. “Um… by myself because I’m new here-”

“To Townsville?” Lillian asked, energetic.

Aliyana couldn’t help but to giggle, “Yeah.”

“Me too! Oh my gosh that’s insane!” She had a bright look in her eye, “We should hang out together! I mean, I don’t know what school you go to but whatever, it’s summer.”

Aliyana was a little in disbelief. She hadn’t expected to meet someone at the mall. She smiled, “Um… yeah! Totally!” She dug in her purse for her phone, “Here, I’ll give you my number.” she dug around and pulled out her cell, But Lillian had already opened her own. She laughed and took it. 

As she thumbed through the contacts, she halted passing one.

Boomer…

Should she be talking to this girl?

“Lillian, we’re about to leave out!” her friends called over.

“Give me a minute, I’m making a new friend!” she hollered back.

Aliyana bit her lip.

Damn. She was probably going to regret this. Hopefully not but… what the hell.

She keyed her number and name in. 

She handed it back to Lillian.

“Sweet! Thanks!”

“It’s no problem,” Aliyana responded unsure.

Lillian was a chipper mood, “Hey, so if you wanna, you can hang with my friends and me around the mallll,” she stretched the last of her statement, rolling her arms and giving a convincing smile. Just then her friends reappeared behind her, with curious looks.

For some reason, Aliyana felt shy to the attention. She chuckled nervously, “Um, actually? I… think I’m good.”

Lillian blinked and cocked her head, “Oh well, that’s okay. But if you ever wanna hang out, you can call me!” she made a calling gesture with her hand.

Aliyana smiled, “Definitley.”

[chenleyah]

he looks so good 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

[postsofbabel]

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[highrollersrolls]

Sir I demand uppies! I wish to braid flowers in your feathers, I think you'd look even more fabulous with them. <3

no morffe flowers! whyff? becauffe..i already haffe SOMEONE put flowers on myff bill..and maffe flower crowns for me.. howeffer, you can haffe uppies *picks you up*

[doughyduo]

myff

[halfwayriight]

[andyacklesspn]

« 😍 ❤️ 😍 »

[breakboxes]

is this anything

[annasdewitts]

[animebw]

Hoooo boy, this one’s a beast. Tsubasa's guilt over that infamous XV concert makes for some great drama, but actually getting in that kind of vulnerable headspace to write it was... intense. Hopefully I did her justice. Thanks to Winglet on Discord for commissioning this fic! If you’d like to commission a fic yourself, click here to find out how!

As always, I’ll post the fic below the Keep Reading bar for those who prefer to read on Tumblr over AO3. Be sure to like, comment, kudos and all that nonsense if you enjoyed it, and feel free to check out the rest of my Symphogear fanfics, most of which take place in the same continuity! Thank you so much, and I hope you like it!

Tsubasa woke up sweating.

Her senses all rushed back in at once. Cold. Damp. Dark. Her stomach heaved in panic. She sat bolt upright and yanked her knees to her chest. Desperately, she tried to stop trembling. Calm down. Calm down.

She breathed. Deep, gulping breaths. Her heartrate slowed. Her pulse calmed. Her roiling guts began to settle. Gradually, her surroundings coalesced around her. The comfortable bed. Walls painted a soft, soothing purple. A stream of moonlight piercing the window. She was still in her room, right where she’d fallen asleep earlier that evening. Everything was normal. Everything was fine.

The girl stared at her, silently begging to be saved.

Tsubasa’s stomach heaved again. She clapped a hand over her mouth and doubled over. Oh, no you don’t.

The bed shifted next to her. “Tsubasa?”

Tsubasa swore silently. In her panic, she’d forgotten about her girlfriend. “Sorry,” she whispered. “Didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“S’fine.” Maria propped herself up on her elbows. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Tsubasa lay back down. “Just a bad dream.”

The monster’s sickening laugh rang through the air.

“Another one?”

“It’s no big deal, really.”

That was a lie, of course, and she had no doubt Maria had already seen through it. Both of them knew full well how big a deal these nightmares were.

“Tsubasa.” Maria’s tone was soft, but stern.

Tsubasa winced. Knew it. Like she could ever fool her. Even before they started going out, her girlfriend always had an uncanny ability to see through her defense mechanisms. It was almost insulting sometimes. How could another person know her so well? Almost better than she knew herself?

“It’s the same as always,” she mumbled. She couldn’t bring herself to meet Maria’s gaze. “The concert hall. Noise showing up out of nowhere. People dying. And then…”

The girl screamed, her eyes full of blood.

Her pulse began to race. She lay a hand on her chest, closed her eyes, tried to breathe. Anything to keep her mind from spiraling into chaos again.

How long had it been? Nine months, at this point? Maybe more like ten? Close to a year, that much was certain. And still the memories haunted her. Memories of blood and death. People bursting into dust. Rushing around in terror, helplessly trying to save anyone, everyone, until-

Her body collapsed in on itself like wet newspaper.

“Hey.” Maria caressed Tsubasa’s cheek from behind. “I’m here.”

“I know.” Tsubasa inhaled painfully. Shame trickled through her veins. If only she could turn around and look Maria in the eyes. How much easier things would be if she were that strong.

It had taken her a long time to process that fateful day. The trauma of the event itself, her subsequent brainwashing, the thicket of raw emotional wounds torn open across the battle with Noble Red. On her better days, she could almost laugh about it. How unlucky could one person be? If her life were a movie, it would surely be mocked as edgy suffering porn. 3/10, the writers were trying way too hard to emotionally manipulate the audience. Learn the value of subtlety already.

But those good days never lasted. Far more frequent were the days where she wanted to curl up in a ball and stop existing. Just phase out of reality for a few hours and forget everything she’d gone through. Forget the terror, forget the screaming, forget the slaughter, forget that screaming, bloody face-

Her glazed eyes sunk into her skull.

She clutched her stomach. It was no good. No matter how hard she tried, the image of the girl who died in front of her refused to fade. The details flooded her senses unexpectedly, crept up on her in the dead of night, ambushed her when she smelled something burning. She couldn’t even light the fireplace without ending up shaking on the floor. Months later, it was still as vivid as the day it happened.

“Oh, Tsubasa…”

A sudden warmth; Maria was hugging her. The sensation made her heart skip a beat. Then it twisted in guilt. Idiot. What do think you’re doing, feeling romantic at a time like this?

“Sorry,” she mumbled again. Her eyes felt hot. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

Maria was silent for a moment. Then, she said; “You’re free tomorrow, right?”

Tsubasa blinked. “I… yes?”

“Good.” Maria squeezed her gently. “We’re going to the amusement park, then. Change of pace.”

“We’re what?” Tsubasa turned in surprise. “Maria-“

“You could use the break.” Maria gazed at her. “Unless you’re really against it?”

Tsubasa’s breath caught in her throat. The moonlight seemed to illuminate Maria’s pale skin like a lantern, stars sparkling in her eyes. She felt herself flushing from her nose to the backs of her ears. How are you so…

“I-I guess that’s fine,” she stammered. “But I haven’t been in a while.”

“I’ll be your guide. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you have a good time.”

Tsubasa nodded anxiously. “Alright, then.”

She closed her eyes. Better save these worries for the morning; not like she could do anything about them now. Tomorrow will be better, she told herself. Just relax.

It was a long time before she got back to sleep.

* * *

She was right; tomorrow was, indeed, better.

Sure, the late autumn wind was bitterly cold. And sure, she was too wary to attempt any of the bigger rides. But there was something deeply refreshing about getting out of the house. Between grappling with her trauma and helping SONG deal with the aftermath of the fight against Shem-ha, she’d barely had a chance to just go out and have fun. Apparently, she’d been missing that more than she realized.

At first, Maria and her just wandered around, stopping whenever something caught their eyes. There was an axe-throwing booth by the log flume; Tsubasa handily took the top prize. Later on, she beat Maria at the shooting gallery. But Maria paid her back at the bumper cars. As it turned out, recklessly crashing motorcycles for a living was not a skill that translated to collisions in a controlled environment. Her mind was still rattling from the impacts as they left the stadium behind.

“I would’ve won without the guardrails,” she muttered.

“Oh, please,” Maria laughed. “You’re lucky they were there to stop you from flipping over.”

She skipped along, humming. Watching her, Tsubasa felt her bad mood melt away. To think they’d only been dating for a couple months. How did I get so damn lucky?

“Look, they have funnel cake!”

Tsubasa looked up. Sure enough, there was a big neon sign advertising it at the nearby snack booth. “You like funnel cake?” she said. “That’s a surprise.”

“Why? Because idols aren’t supposed to eat heavy foods?” Maria flashed a teasing smile at her.

Tsubasa felt herself flushing again. Flirt. “Because an elegant lady like you scarfing down artery-clogging fair food goes against the laws of God.”

“Hmmm.” Maria pretended to puzzle over it for a bit. “Then, it’s a good thing we already punched God in the face.”

Tsubasa rolled her eyes. “Alright, you win this round.”

Maria smiled. “If you say so.”

She turned back to the sign. “Back in England, funnel cake was my favorite fair snack. But it’s nowhere near as common in Japan. It’s been so long since I’ve had it, and now it’s right in front of me.” She stretched eagerly. “Fate is truly smiling upon us today, don’t you think?”

Tsubasa stifled a laugh. She never knew how much of a goofball Maria could be until they started dating. But that was the beauty of it all, wasn’t it? Every day was a new discovery. Every day she found a new reason to love this pink-haired goddess. Maybe one day, she’d be brave enough to say them all out loud.

“You might want to look at the line to get them,” she remarked. “Is fate smiling on that as well?”

Maria’s face fell; the line for the funnel cakes was longer than some of the rides. It would take over half an hour just to reach the counter. “Guess I wasn’t the only one missing them,” she mumbled.

Tsubasa smiled. How adorable. “We can wait,” she said.

“Ae you sure?” Maria’s voice barely concealed her gratitude.

“I’ve never had them myself. If you’re that fond of them, I can’t be missing out.”

Maria beamed. “You’re wonderful,” she purred.

Shit. Tsubasa hid her blushing cheeks. “L-let’s get in line,” she stammered, hurrying toward the stand. “The sooner we-“

And then the smell hit her nose. The smell of dough frying in hot oil. Sizzling. Burning. Flesh burning. Flesh melting. Crumbing into ash.

The girl’s face bulged in horror.

“Tsubasa?”

Tsubasa snapped back to reality. Maria was gazing at her with worry, a hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?” she asked.

Tsubasa breathed in. She was back at the fairground. The smell of frying dough was, once again, just the smell of frying dough. “I’m fine,” she mumbled, ignoring how fast her heart was still beating.

Maria’s gaze bore into her. Tsubasa felt an overwhelming urge to stare at the ground. This time, though, she forced herself not to look away. I am not letting this ruin today.

“Listen,” she said, “if you want funnel cake, go get funnel cake. I’ll just wander around here and find something to pass the time with.”

“Tsubasa…”

“I’ll be fine.” Tsubasa forced a smile on her face. “Promise.”

Maria pursed her lips. Conflicted feelings played across her face, but in the end, she gave in. “Just call me if you need help,” she said.

“Got it.”

“Actually call me, alright?”

“Alright, alright!” Tsubasa shook her off. “God, you’re stubborn.”

“And you’re not?”

Then, unexpectedly, Maria leaned in and planted a kiss on her cheek. “See you soon,” she whispered.

And with that, she hurried over to the back of the line. Tsubasa stared after her, stunned into silence. Suddenly, she felt hot all the way down her neck. God, you are so unfair.

She rubbed her face to cool down and looked around. Now that she was alone, she was suddenly aware of how crowded the park was. Everywhere she looked, throngs of people were milling about, bumping into each other, mingling, breaking apart. Kids pestering their parents for ice cream. Teenagers shrieking with joy after braving the wildest rides. A swirling mass of human enthusiasm. Just like that day-

Her lifeless body collapsed in a pool of her own blood.

Tsubasa slapped her cheeks in frustration. Stop it. Not helping.

She looked back at Maria. The line was moving slowly; even from a distance, Tsubasa could sense her impatience. No doubt she was anxious to get back to Tsubasa and make sure she was okay. Shame prickled at her cheeks. So much for putting her girlfriend’s mind at ease.

She rubbed her forehead in frustration. It really didn’t make sense. She knew how much Maria cared. And her nightmares were an issue. Why was she so resistant to asking for help?

Stupid sentinel pride. If only I knew how to turn you off.

“Excuse me? Tsubasa-san?”

The voice snapped Tsubasa out of her brooding. It was the voice of a young girl, small and high-pitched. Had a fan recognized her? She’d tried to keep from standing out, but perhaps world-famous idols couldn’t avoid notice that easily.

She exhaled, shook herself off and turned around. She wasn’t in the mood for fan interaction, but trying to run away was more trouble than it was worth. Let’s just get this over with.

“Who is it?”

And then, everything froze.

Tears and blood stained her cheeks.

“Tsubasa-san?”

Tsubasa barely heard her. Blood roared in her ears. The world began to spin.

Her face convulsed and came undone.

“Tsubasa-san? Tsubasa-san!”

Her face.

A scream rose in her throat.

Her face…

…is staring at me again.

An explosion ripped through her chest, and everything went dark.

* * *

“Tsubasa-san! Tsubasa-san, can you hear me?”

Tsubasa groaned. What’s going on?

“Tsubasa-san!”

That voice again. Why did it sound so distressed? Everything was fine. She was having fun at an amusement park. There was no reason to-

And then she remembered.

She sat bolt upright.

Instantly, her stomach yowled in protest. She gasped and doubled over. Bile sloshed around painfully. She squeezed her hands into fists.

“Tsubasa-san! Hey, are you okay?”

Her stomach heaved again. She bit her lip to distract from the pain. Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

Something was wrong. Her brain wasn’t working. Her thoughts were being cut short halfway before finishing. It was like a thick wall had descended in the middle of her mind, preventing access from one end to the other. Was she even here? Was any of this even real?

“Tsubasa… san?”

Again, that voice. Too loud to be imaginary. Too clear to be hallucination.

She looked over.

Brown hair. Violet eyes. A short ponytail on the left side of her head. A blue coat and a red scarf. An unassuming girl who’d easily blend into any crowd. Unless you were specifically looking for her, she wouldn’t stand out at all.

But Tsubasa recognized her.

She’d know that face anywhere.

Her eyes spasmed in terror.

She’d known that face for a very long time now.

Her tongue lolled about like a slug.

“I’m sorry.” The girl kneaded her hands together. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Tsubasa stared her. It was no good. Her brain refused to accept the situation before her. Every time she tried to reign it back in, it collapsed again. What was this? What was going on? Why was any of this happening? Why…

“Why… are you apologizing?”

She didn’t know how she managed to get the words out. It barely felt like she was talking at all. But the girl had clearly heard her. She opened her mouth, then, confused, closed it again. Suddenly, she seemed just as lost for words as Tsubasa.

A pulse beat in the back of Tsubasa’s head. It didn’t make sense. None of this made sense. Every fiber in her body wanted to reject what her eyes were seeing. But her eyes insisted on the truth over and over again. A girl she let die was sitting beside her. The face from her dreams had found its way into the waking world. And it was staring at her with a mixture of fear, concern, and awe.

Somehow, she found her voice again. “You’re… not a ghost, are you?”

The girl flinched. Instantly, Tsubasa regretted her choice of words. “I’m sorry, that was- I didn’t mean- I should’ve-“

“N-no, it’s fine!” the girl stammered. “It’s not a- I get it!”

“I- oh- okay. Yeah.”

Silence fell. Tsubasa felt her ears burning. She was painfully aware of the girl’s gaze on her, anxiously trying to make sense of her. If only she could descend into the earth and escape that gaze forever.

She forced herself to look around. They were sitting on a bench in a secluded corner. People passed by, but nobody stayed for longer than a few seconds. It was about as private as one could get in a park this busy. Maria was nowhere to be seen; was she still in the funnel cake line? Or had enough time past that she was looking for Tsubasa, desperately calling her name?

Slowly, she clenched and unclenched her fists. When she was first starting out as an idol, she would often get stage fright. Sometimes it was so bad she could barely move. Kanade had to pick her up and princess-carry her to safety more than once. This reminded her of that sensation; the trembling, the queasiness, the paralysis setting in through sheer terror. The only difference was that it was far, far worse.

“Tsubasa-san… are you okay?”

That’s right. There was someone else here. She couldn’t just stay cooped up in her thoughts forever. She had to face her properly.

Go on, look at her.

“I’m… alright,” she lied. “Sorry for scaring you.”

Look at her already.

For a moment, there was silence. Then, the girl spoke again: “I saw you at my grave.”

A shock ran through Tsubasa.

She looked up.

The girl staring back at her was young. Maybe thirteen years old. Her clothes were a little too small on her; pretty soon she’d grow out of them. But her face was creased with an ill-fitting weariness. Such a troubled expression should be worn only by the elderly and soldiers back from war. It had no place on a child.

Tsubasa wet her lips. Once again, shame seeped through her. This was what she was afraid of? Just a scared little girl? And she couldn’t even do her the courtesy of looking her in the eye?

Specks of intestine stained the pavement.

Tsubasa dug her nails into her palms. Don’t look away. Don’t you dare.

“What’s… your name?” she managed to ask.

“Sakura. Sakura Oono.”

“Sakura.” Tsubasa closed her eyes. “That’s a lovely name.”

“Th-thanks.” Sakura glanced away.

Tsubasa frowned. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah.” Sakura shuffled her feet. “It’s just… I never thought I’d get to talk to you. And now you’re, like, saying my name and everything.” She blushed a bit “Am I being weird? I’m being weird, right?”

“N-no, of course not!” Now it was Tsubasa’s turn to feel awkward. When did this turn into a meet-and-greet?

She laced her fingers together. “You say… you saw me at your grave?”

“Yeah.” Sakura idly kicked her feet. “You talked to my mom. That was really nice of you.”

Tsubasa shook her head. “That was just…” Her thoughts trailed off.

“Oh!” Sakura suddenly perked up. “And Kanade was there too!”

“What?!” Tsubasa almost leapt to her feet in shock. “Y-you know Kanade?” she stammered.

“Yeah! She was my afterlife guide! Kind of.” Sakura grinned sheepishly. “Helped me find a path to reincarnation too. Even though I was always telling her to buzz off, she was always so nice to me.”

God dammit, that’s actually her.

“I can’t believe it,” Tsubasa mumbled. She leaned back in her seat, spent. “She’s still watching me.”

A thought occurred to her. Her face burned red. “Did she, um… say anything about me?”

Sakura shuffled nervously. “Well… she said you and Maria should hurry and get together already.”

Tsubasa just about choked on her own spit. “She WHAT?!”

“I-i-it’s just what she said!” Sakura turned red. “I’m just repeating it! That’s all!”

“Goooooood!” Tsubasa covered her face with her hands. “She’s such a… god!” As embarrassed as she was, though, her heart couldn’t help but skip a beat. You were really rooting for us?

Sakura giggled. Tsubasa managed to peek out of her hands. “What?”

“Sorry.” Sakura forced her laughter down. “It’s just… I never pictured you like this.”

Tsubasa bit her lip. It was such an innocuous comment. The girl had no way of knowing the storm of emotions it was brewing in her.

“I guess that’s public relations for you,” she said.

“Maybe.” Sakura sighed in contentment. “I’m glad I got to see it, though.”

She was so nice. So unbelievably nice. There wasn’t a hint of anger or resentment in her voice. She could’ve been any ordinary girl meeting her idol for the first time.

The girl’s eyes screamed to be saved.

But she didn’t save her.

The stones ran red with her blood.

She let her die.

The stench of death filled the air.

So why…

Why… don’t you hate me?

Tsubasa tasted salt. She was biting her lip so hard, she’d drawn blood. She swallowed, felt the acrid taste coat her throat. It was an eerily comforting sensation.

That was it, wasn’t it? The reason why she couldn’t let Maria help. Why she could barely process the situation before her. Why her nightmares were still so vivid after all this time. Deep down, some part of her welcomed the suffering.

Deep down, some part of her felt like she deserved it.

Tsubasa closed her eyes. Maybe this was her curse. For letting Sakura die. For failing her duty as a protector. A constant reminder of all the blood on her hands, never to be washed clean. A fitting punishment for a broken sentinel like her.

Is that really for the best?

Maria’s anxious expression appeared in her mind’s eye. Worried. Caring. Earnest.

That was all the answer she needed.

“Sakura.”

“Tsubasa-san?”

Tsubasa took a deep breath. She looked the girl in the eyes. The face staring back at her wasn’t screaming, wasn’t pleading, wasn’t crumpling and bulging in the throes of death. It was simply watching her, waiting to see what she did next.

“I know this may not mean much,” she began. “I know I can never make things up for you. But…”

She sucked back a sob. “I’m sorry. That I couldn’t save you.”

Sakura gazed at her. Tsubasa managed not to look away. For some reason, the tears she expected didn’t come. Maybe they would come later, once the shock of seeing a dead girl come back to life finally wore off. Or maybe she was simply beyond tears at this point.

Perhaps the silence only lasted a few seconds. Perhaps it lasted an hour. Tsubasa could have gazed at Sakura’s sad expression forever and been unable to pull away. But in the end, Sakura broke the spell with three simple words.

“I forgive you.”

Tsubasa’s heart twisted into knots. It would have been less painful if Sakura told her to go to hell. “Are… you sure?”

“I don’t blame you for anything. Really.” Sakura pulled her knees to her chest. “Even… if I wanted to sometimes.”

“But you were there.” Tsubasa’s hands began to tremble. “You were right in front of me, and I couldn’t… I didn’t…”

She inhaled shakily. “I just wish… I wish I could’ve saved you. All of you.”

Her cheeks suddenly felt damp.

Ah, there they are.

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. The tears continued to flow. “Sorry,” she mumbled. Breaking down in front of a kid. Way to go, Tsubasa.

“It’s okay.” Sakura shifted closer to her. “We’ve both had it rough, haven’t we?”

Tsubasa nodded. She didn’t dare say another word; if she opened her mouth now, there was no telling how badly she’d fall apart.

“Tsubasa-san.”

Tsubasa looked up.

“A lot’s happened to me since I died,” Sakura said. “I can’t really put into words. But seeing the world from up there… it made me realize how great it is. Being alive.”

She shivered from the cold. “Honestly, I thought my old life sucked a lot of the time. I focused on the bad things too much. But you know what?” She smiled. “Your music helped me see the good things too. I always wanted to tell you that.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Sakura blushed a bit. “That’s why I’m glad I saw you today.”

Once again, Tsubasa had no idea what to say. She simply stared at the girl, taking it all in. A curious feeling filled her chest. It was painful, but soothing at the same time. It sunk deep into her nerves and cleared the fog from her head. She wiped her eyes again, hoping her makeup wasn’t too messed up.

“That’s not much to forgive me over,” she managed to say.

“I know.” Sakura leaned back in her seat. “But I forgive you. So, tough.”

Now it was Tsubasa’s turn to smile. “If you say so.”

She looked out into the park. People were still passing by, laughing and loving and living. Maybe sometime in the future, tragedy would strike and they would all go up in flames screaming. For now, though, the day remained cheery as ever.

“So what now?” she asked.

“Now?” Sakura gazed at the horizon. “I’m gonna live, I guess. Make sure I don’t waste this second chance and everything.”

Suddenly, she yelped in surprise. “Crap, that’s right! My parents!”

“Your parents?”

“They told me not to wander off for long!” Sakura pulled her phone out and looked at the screen. Sure enough, her notifications were full to bursting with missed calls. “Fuuuuuuck!” she moaned.

Tsubasa almost burst out laughing. “Well, don’t let them hear you using that language.”

Sakura flushed. “S-sorry!”

“I was joking,” Tsubasa chuckled. She was shocked how light she felt. How much was I weighing myself down before?

Sakura was already leaping to her feet. “I gotta go,” she said breathlessly. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Tsubasa rubbed the back of her neck. “Tell you what, do you have a pen and paper?”

“I- sure.”

Sakura handed them over. Quickly, Tsubasa scrawled her phone number on the paper. “Here,” she said, handing them back. “Just in case you ever want to talk more.”

Sakura’s face lit up. “You mean it?”

“Of course.” Tsubasa returned her smile. “It’s the least I can do, right?”

Sakura grinned. “Thank you!”

“Now go. You’ll give them a heart attack if you keep them waiting any longer.”

“I know!” Sakura pocketed her things and started to hurry off. Before she got far, though, she paused and turned back. “Tsubasa-san?”

“Yes?”

Silhouetted by the midday sun, the girl waved goodbye. “You live a good life too!”

And with that, she hurried off, sliding between people until she vanished into the crowd.

Tsubasa watched her go. Slowly, she let out a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding. She rubbed an arm over her eyes, hoping the tears had stopped falling.

It still didn’t feel real. Had she really just talked to the girl she let die? Had that girl really forgiven her? For once in her life, was the universe giving her permission to breathe? Surely this couldn’t last. Surely there was another disaster right around the corner and everything was about to fall apart.

Right before her eyes, the girl died.

Tsubasa looked up into the sky. She pictured Sakura’s face. Not the face of her dying moments, but the face of the girl she’d just shared a conversation with. Excited. Bashful. Scared. Concerned.

Right before her eyes… the girl was alive again.

She smiled. You’re right. Life is pretty wonderful.

At that moment, a familiar voice rang through the air: “Tsubasa!”

She looked down.

And there was Maria, carrying a massive tangle of fried dough and powdered sugar in each hand, panting heavily like she’d been running for a while.

“There you are!” she gasped. “Don’t just vanish on me like that!”

Tsubasa stared at her. Maria’s hair was matted with sweat, her face flushed from exertion. How long had she been looking for her? How worried had she been when she couldn’t find the person she loved? How scared had Tsubasa made her over and over again, always keeping her at a distance, too scared to let her in?

“Tsubasa?” Maria looked at her, concerned. “Are you- mmph!”

And suddenly Tsubasa was hugging her, Tsubasa was kissing her, Tsubasa was holding her tighter than she’d ever held anyone before. Maria stumbled back in shock, almost dropping the funnel cake. But Tsubasa held her upright with all the strength left in her arms. She nestled into her lover’s warmth and shared her own in turn. For a brief, shining moment, the world fell away; there was only the two women, the heat they shared, and the promise that lay unspoken between their lips.

When they finally broke apart, Maria was beet red. “I-I-I-I-I…” she stammered, but the words wouldn’t come.

Tsubasa smiled. “Was that too much?”

“N-No, of course not!” Maria frantically shook her head to clear it. “Just, uh, maybe a warning next time!”

“Sorry.” Tsubasa looked into her eyes “I just… wanted to say thank you.”

Maria blinked. “Thank you?”

“Yeah. I think… I really needed this.”

She could feel Maria’s gaze on her. She took a shaky breath and continued. “You’re so good at reaching out to me. And I want to get better at doing the same. Does that… make sense?”

For a moment, Maria simply looked at her. Then, she smiled. “I love you.”

She leaned in and returned Tsubasa’s kiss. Tsubasa froze for a moment, then relaxed. She surrendered to the sweetness of her lips, the warmth of her embrace. It was the easiest thing she had done all day.

I love you too.

Her trauma wouldn’t vanish overnight. That much she knew for certain. It would be a long, painful journey to figure out how to process this pain. But she’d get there. Slowly. Bit by bit. Until she could hold her life in her hands without fear of shattering it.

Until she could believe she deserved a second chance too.

“So,” she said when they pulled apart, “how’s the funnel cake?”

“Haven’t tried it yet.” Maria passed one to her. “They’ve gone cold, but they should still be good.”

Tsubasa winced; Maria must have been looking for a while. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll chew you out later.” Maria raised her funnel cake. “Shall we?”

Tsubasa smiled. “Let’s.”

They clinked their desserts together like wine glasses and bit down in harmony.

The future had never tasted so sweet.

[elriell]

Chapter Two—  

[Chapter 1]

In The Absence of Light

Restless sleep continued to plague her the following nights, just as she had feared the cold spikes of anxiety that crippled her mind refused to ease up their battle for control.

Azriel never mentioned their tense early morning encounter, but she could not deny that after his departure she had finally managed to succumb to a few good hours of rest, and for that she was grateful. She put it down to simply feeling calmer after seeing a friend and refused to look any further in to why that would be.  

So, when Elain saw him over breakfast, she offered him a genuine smile and accepted the muffin he silently offered her in return. She tried not to dwell on the fact that he did not in truth look as if he had been blessed with a good sleep, as she had.  

~

Several nights had passed since then and time trickled by slowly, each night she found herself staring up at the ceiling, tossing and turning among the expensive linens, unable to settle down. Vivid dreams swirled around in her head; the same thoughts as always, they appeared to be taking up permanent residency, she was less than pleased with that realization.  

Every noise poked at her subconscious, taunting her mockingly. She let out a sigh at the ridiculousness of her thoughts, as if the branches crashing in the wind could possibly be trying to ridicule her, she truly was losing it alltogether. Taking a deep breath, she gave up on her quest for sleep and slid her feet in the soft pair of slippers and set off for the kitchen, doing her best not to awake anyone on her path, though she doubted she would, everyone in this house seemed to sleep through most her terrors.  

Lost in her own scattered thoughts she barely saw him lent over, in truth he looked as though he too was in his own world. Strong powerful arms flexed over the sink as he gazed out the window in to the gardens below. The dark leathery wings hung limply behind him, he painted quite the sorrowful picture, moonlight casting down upon him.

A fallen angel, infinitely beautiful and untouchable in an heartbreaking way.  

“Trouble sleeping?” His honey voice caught her off guard, she really had to stop being surprised when it came to the shadow-singer, his instincts were sharp as the thorns that she tried to avoid when gardening.  

“Seems to be going around these days.” A soft shrug. “I was just going to make myself something warm, would you join me?”  

He turned towards her at that and it struck her as it always did how easily he concealed his emotions, as if he could carefully tuck them away in a box and forget about them. His eyes however spoke volumes, they were devastating to her mental resolve, a crack splintering straight to her heart.

“I would like that very much.”  Agreeing gently.

Elain willed herself to focus on the task at hand; warming up some milk for the both of them. She felt more than heard him shuffle amongst the kitchen retrieving mugs and placing them to her left, returning to his former place. “Thank you for the other night— No, no, no... Please don't stop me, I want to, no I need to. I haven’t gotten that much sleep-in months, so thank you.”

A small blush crept up his face much to her quiet delight, it was such a rarity to pierce his stoic exterior.

She poured them both a cup each and set out to retrieve some cookies from a jar she had baked earlier in the day, once she had set a sufficient amount on a plate, she joined Azriel at the small breakfast table at the far end of the room.

Though dark out it was a beautiful spot, the whole side of the wall was built from different shades of stained glass and under the moonlight it shone a messy pattern of colors across the cobblestone floor, it had quite easily become one of her favorite places once her nightmares began. A colorful sanctuary to be at ease.

There were so many questions on the tip of her tongue, she wondered so much about him, about his troubles, his travels, about Nesta, who she had not received any letters from since her departure though that was no surprise all things considered. She wished she could tell her she had not known of the plans, wished she could have at least said goodbye, god, she wished for so many things.

Perhaps she would ask Azriel to take her on his next visit to the mountains, she filed that away for another day.  

“I suppose the tonic didn't work then?” He inquired before dunking a cookie in to his mug.

“Ah—” Hesitating for a beat too long. “It's alright you needn't lie to me; your secrets are your own. If you do not wish to say I shall not bring it up again.”  He jumped in before she finished.

Truth. She knew without a doubt he would not push her, would accept whatever she was willing to give.  

“That is quite alright, to be honest with you Azriel, I am not sure I quite know myself.” She considered it carefully. “I think deep down, beneath every excuse, I just, well I just don’t want to be...”

“Medicated.” He finished for her.

It should not surprise her after all this time, he was always able to read her seamlessly and understand her completely even when she wasn’t sure she understood herself. He was able to deduce that she was a Seer when the rest thought she was going mad, even her own mate, scoffing internally at the word. It was a shame, she supposed, that it had nothing to do with Lucien. He was a good enough man but she simply couldn’t handle the burden that such a bond posed after the events of last year.  

“Exactly.”

He was uncharacteristically sheepish when he asked, “It’s not my place, but is something wrong? Lucien?” He stumbled over the last word as if he found it hard to roll off his tongue. Odd. Azriel rarely if ever spoke on the subject of the former spring court emissary, almost seemed to avoid it at all costs.

Upon reflection she could not think of one time through their many conversations that he had ever inquired about him if she had not started the discussion.  

It was eery some days, it was as though he could see inside her soul, study her like a well-read book.

And if she was following that analogy through then she was certainly an old nattered forgotten book that was far too damaged to be of much value... She heard Nesta’s voice as the thought formed scolding her for thinking that any book would not hold its own important value in the world.  

“No.” She replied honestly. “I am not quite sure what is fuelling my problems only that they are rather determined at keeping me from a peaceful sleep. But enough about that, let us talk about better things, happier things, tell me about your favorite places to...”

And so, they would spend several hours hunched over the table talking in hushed tones about everything and nothing at all, refilling their mugs repeatedly as time faded away and all that remained was the moments within, the coloured light streaming over them bathing them in a pool of colours steadily shifting as the sun rose, not that either noticed until household staff awoke to prepare for the day.  

And when she returned to her bedchamber, she would not care on bit that she was still on the brink of exhaustion.

~

They developed quite a habit of it unexpectedly. At one point or another in the night when her sleep or lack there of, became too much to bare, she would wander down to the kitchen where inevitably he would be sat as if waiting for her.

She tried not to be so self-absorbed as to think it was solely because of her. But after the first few times happened and it became a reoccurring pattern, warm milk always lay on the table waiting for her, always warm, almost as if he could sense when she would arrive despite it changing most nights.

It did not help her ever growing endearment to him.

~

Although she knew Azriel would eventually grow bored of this habit they had formed, perhaps conversation would become tiresome to maintain for him but she promised to enjoy his company while it lasted.

He made her happy and the small private moments she would cherish among the bland parts of her day, though it wasn’t particularly healthy for either of them as it meant neither was sleeping much.

But it was a worthy sacrifice, all considered she was not sleeping before therefore she was not losing anything, however she did feel a twinge of guilt for the shadow-singer. Hoped it would not interfere with his day-to-day activities and not put him at greater risk whilst following out orders.  

But alas all good things must come to an end and last night would mark that for them both.

He had been uncharacteristically quiet all night, simply letting her ramble on about the new plans for opening up the back garden to prepare it for new flowers and wildlife, he had simply watched her for hours with a gentle “Mmm” and “Of course” along the way, in hindsight she should have guessed something was coming.

He arose from the bench first keeping his eyes locked to the ground, and fiddling with the lapels of his jacket seemingly trying to buy time, while the silence hung heavy in the air.  

“It seems there has been some problems arising in the northern territories and Rhys has asked that I head out for a few days to ensure it is nothing more serious.” Shifting his feet back and forth still reluctant to make eye contact.

“I see.” She really didn’t. “When are you to leave?”

The grimace was noticeable on his controlled face, “An hour ago. Give or take.”

He did not give her time to respond as he leaned over her, closer than they had been to each other in some time and he smelled like the woods after a rainfall if that could be a smell at all, fresh yet masculine. The kiss he planted on her forehead was so gentle had she not had her eyes open she scarcely would have felt it.  

Her lids fell and her breathing changed, and she wondered if one could feel as if their heart both stopped and raced at the same time, she was losing all sense of reason and by the time she regained her thoughts enough to open her eyes he was gone.  

His absence hit her quickly and she had to take a deep breath to hold back the tear stinging her eye, yet again she was left to her own devices. Perhaps it for the best that she not grow too reliant on his company, though she was infinitely grateful for his friendship and companionship she did not want him to feel burdened by her.  

This would give them some much needed separation and time to rebuild her mental walls and form some boundaries for herself.

~

The first night was not as bad as she expected and she tried to be optimistic that this was a new leaf for her.

Unfortunately, as she well knew nothing lasts for long, especially something good. Not for her. By the fourth night the dark void had returned in full to cause chaos on her mind, and so chaos spread, worsening night after night.  

Elaine’s nightly visits to the kitchen had not ceased they simply became a solitary adventure and as the week reached its end, she was near desperate for the relief of her favorite companion would provide.

Having overheard Mor speaking to Feyre in the lounge she was able to confirm that he had returned to the estate sometime midday, though his meetings with his High Lord kept him out of sight much to her disappointment.

She did her best to tame the growing excitement that bubbled up when she thought about his return.

Tonight, for a change she made no attempts to sleep simply busied herself with brushing out her curls and spraying her favorite perfume, feeling silly for going to such efforts. Truthfully though she knew that beneath whatever crush she had formed it had little to do with her attachment to him, it was his companionship and friendship she coveted most, he was a true and loyal friend, a rare thing to her these days.  

She made a promise to herself not mare it with her growing attraction. She refused to lose another person she cared about.

Which is why when she finally made it down to the kitchen after holding off as long as possible only to be greeted by an empty room, she felt her heart twinge. Feeling silly for simply assuming he would be there, for not even questioning it. Not that she blamed him, the kinder part of her hoped he was getting a descent nights rest again, refusing to think on it for long she made herself warm cocoa and set off for bed.

Unsurprisingly sleep did not come easy to her but at least on this night it was not the terrible evil that plagued her, rather the piercing eyes of her favorite spy.

As the hours ticked on and she grew more restless her body wrenched itself out of bed as if on its own accord, and paced a way across their home, it was as she reached the West Wing she realized where she had unconsciously ended up. It was not hard through process of elimination to work out which was his, no light shone beyond the door and no detectable sound either, though she doubted she would know if he was moving about.  

It was silly to have come all this way and she was well aware of how embarrassing her need to visit him was but as she stood with only a large oak door separating them, she understood exactly why she had come, because in that moment she finally felt calmer than she had all week, the anxiety that weaved its way through her reseeded slowly.  

She figured that it couldn’t hurt to stay for a few moments to calm down a little more before venturing back, it would not hurt anyone what they did not know.  

Unaware of when it happened, she found herself sliding down against the door until her bottom hit the cold cobblestones, it was a rather strange feeling that simply being in proximity to him would bring her such small comforts but so was the case as she felt exhaustion slowly creep over and when it came, she felt safe enough to let it take her, she closed her eyes and drifted away.

~

Pheeeeew, That was long and still a little sad but i promise it is going to get less DEPRESSING™️ I just want to lay the groundwork for what is going to happen 😉 I would love any and all critique as always, it is what fuels me!

Also i was almost finished writing the chapter but the title and colourful glass is inspired by the book I am re-reading with that name.

As always anyone who wants to be added or removed just let me know 🖤

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