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opalesense · 4 years

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the last appointment

zhongli & gn!reader

3.4k words • ~25 min. read

summary: as a studious and credible fortune teller in liyue, you discover something about your last client of the week that completely derails your outlook on life.

warnings: liyue arc spoilers, little bit of existential dread, slight mention of family member’s death

notes: might make more parts to this idk? just kinda wanted to dip my toes into genshin writing for the first time!!

LIFE IN LIYUE HARBOUR seemed to be repetitive and mundane. For the past few years, you would wake up, open your fortune telling shop, analyze the futures of your clients using your geomancy, possibly take a stroll around Liyue when you needed to run errands, and then call it a day. You performed the same routine constantly, sometimes travelling beyond the harbor to collect crystals and magical supplies for your shop, but rarely did anything truly change in your routine. If something was off in the slightest, it was never too exciting to note.

As anyone would have suspected, you were tired of your state of limbo in life. Other vision holders seemed to be going on adventures, travelling with companions and exploring the vast mountains and valleys of Teyvat. Other vision holders seemed to be fighting against evil, helping citizens, and saving the world from imminent dangers. You could even recall a recent event where the Qixing had evacuated the harbor to defeat a terrifying sea monster. The Jade Chamber had been sacrificed for the safety of the people of Liyue, and yet here you were, playing with a bunch of rocks for a living. Despite being able to grasp the glowing Geo vision that held your coat together, you could not grasp why you felt doomed to tend to this shop for the rest of your days.

You didn’t know where or how to “start” your life. The small, inherited establishment from your late aunt was located in the small alley of Chihu Rock, practically out of sight from most of the foot traffic in the harbor. Not many people came to visit, though your name was still decently known. In fact, most of your appointments were simply previous clients from your aunt, regulars that relied on her readings for years and believed you were the next best thing after she passed. Especially considering you were the first vision holder in your family, it made your credibility even stronger.

You still remember how you got your vision. The morning after your aunt had passed, the elemental gift somehow made its way into your hand as if the timing was meant to be perfect. You didn’t celebrate such a special and momentous occasion with pride or joy. Your face stiff with tears, you instead reflected on why you received your vision at that moment in the first place. With the shop doors closed upstairs, you gripped your vision and did what you felt needed to be done. With your family’s legacy and tradition on the line, adventuring like other vision wielders was not a priority at the time.

But after years alone of research, a social life consisting only of interacting with customers, and a constant state of grieving the experiences you could’ve had in your youth, you were now in your late twenties and closing the shop for the day. Your last appointment was either extremely late or not showing up at all and you were tired of working today, just like every other day. Regret gripped you tightly as you wondered how you managed to get yourself in such a boring, slow burning loop.

That is until the shop door opened, eliciting a gasp from you at the sudden noise, shattering the previous thought. You accidentally dropped the basket of cor lapis you were refilling and immediately knelt down to pick up the precious pieces that thankfully hadn’t cracked on the way down.

“Hello, [Y/N],” the tall figure practically glided through the doorway, “My deepest apologies for being late.”

He closed the door behind him, “...and for startling you, it seems.”

You sighed, checking for any scratches on the gems and sighed again with relief based on the good results. You grinned to hide the fact you had just been in deep thought. “It’s quite alright, Mr. Zhongli. It’s kind of you to stop by at the very least, even if you’re late.”

Mr. Zhongli was one of your aunt’s longtime clients. Since you were a child, your aunt had always described Mr. Zhongli as a complex yet thoughtful man that had always shown kindness to your family for many years. When Mr. Zhongli learned of your aunt’s death and began to receive readings from you instead, you quickly realized what your aunt meant by calling him complex. Mr. Zhongli was truly a tough nut to crack in every single reading, his sessions taking longer than most other cases. That is why Mr. Zhongli would always offer to take the last spot of the day at the end of every week as to not trouble any of your other clients.

As you took a few of the best cor lapis from the basket, you could see Mr. Zhongli’s acts of kindness and thoughtfulness unfold in front of you. He seemed to carry what was now clearly a gift basket at closer inspection.

“This gift is for you,” Mr. Zhongli took a few steps forward to set the basket on a countertop. “I brought you your favorites. Slow cooked bamboo shoot soup, qingxin, glaze lilies, and all the crystals I could find… needless to say, let this be a token of my appreciation for your patience and hard work from our last few sessions. I know I am not the easiest to read, but you truly have a talent.”

You were speechless at the gesture as your eyes sunk into the intricate detail of the handwoven basket and decorated items inside. No one had ever done something so kind for you in so long. It was astonishing enough that he remembered your favorite soup that you mentioned only once a few months ago, let alone your favorite flowers and crystals as well. “Thank you so much, Mr. Zhongli! I’m at a loss for words – this is so thoughtful of you!”

“I even brought you that Rex Incognito series you had mentioned, although, I am not sure why you would need to read the series when I am fully capable of educating you on the history of Rex Lapis myself,” he flaunted, taking his seat on the cushioned chair in front of the reading table.

“Now, Mr. Zhongli...” you picked out some prithiva topaz from another basket, following the usual protocol you had with such a personalized, frequent client like him. The required materials for his readings were imprinted into your memory like carvings in stone. “You know I don’t want to burden you with my curiosity. And with such an intriguing topic like Rex Lapis... once I start asking questions I’m afraid I will not stop.”

“I have all the time in the world,” he got comfortable in his seat as you sat yourself across from him, “I truly think it would benefit you to discuss the history of Rex Lapis with a learned scholar such as myself. We can even have some tea as we discuss.”

You chuckled at his eagerness. He seemed more forward than usual. “You are too kind, Mr. Zhongli. Perhaps I’ll take that offer someday, but at least let me put those books to good use first. Maybe I won’t need to bombard you with questions if I’m already well briefed on the subject.”

He sighed happily. “You make a good point. And you will enjoy them, I’m sure.”

You settled into your seat as you arranged the crystals between the two of you. “The usual for tonight?”

“Yes, please.”

Your hands meticulously placed the last crystal in its spot on the surface. You closed your eyes and hovered your hands above the rocks, clearing your mind to make way for the usual reading: a reflection on the past, any significant events of the present to focus on, and some insight into the future. You held this hand gesture for awhile, letting the energy from the rocks lift into the air and envelop your gloved palms. When you felt there was enough energy to work with, you opened your eyes to reveal the manifestation of his thoughts in front of you, able to take its physical form using the powers from your glowing vision.

No one had ever taught your this skill, not even your aunt. If you had to bloat your own ego, one could say you invented this Geo fortune telling process yourself. The process indeed came to you naturally, a true display of pure talent.

You slowly lifted your hands to allow the visual manifestation to settle on the table among the gems so Mr. Zhongli could watch his reading unfold in front of him as well.

“Let us analyze the past first,” he spoke, already knowing the routine without you needing to ask him where to start. You slowly waved your hands as if you were digging a hole in sand on a beach, the manifestation displaying ambiguous patterns that wouldn’t make sense to any commoner’s eyes but could be interpreted easily by yours.

Two pairs of focused eyes fixated on the picture as you spoke your mind out loud. “You have recently given up something extremely important to you, it seems. I see you handing over something… small, physically, yet unbelievably significant and personal. I can’t tell what it is exactly, only that it glows like the sun with its energy. But you have handed this important object over to a very... evil... figure?” you cocked your eyebrow, confused. “You seem to be brooding over the fact that its aura is dark with malicious intentions.” You hesitated, “Well, that can’t be right, can it?”

He sighed. “Unfortunately, that is indeed what happened recently. But it had to be done.”

“Didn’t we talk about a similar situation in a previous reading? If I remember correctly, I thought I had advised you to not give up whatever that object was.”

“I am aware of the consequences that will follow. Especially with your future guidance, I’m sure the events following this one questionable decision will unfold in a better way soon enough.”

“I will always be here to help you, Mr. Zhongli. But please be careful in the future with these decisions. The importance of this object seems to be off the charts.”

He nodded. “It is as you say. Please, have faith in me now. I cannot change what happened in the past, after all.”

You hovered over this image of the sacrifice. You couldn’t make out what this object was, no matter how close you tried to inspect it. It had the likings of a chess piece, but surely this wasn’t simply a chess piece, was it?

“Let us move on, if that is alright with you,” his low voice cut the silence.

You wiped the image from your mind and waved your hands again, as if you were slowly putting the sand back into the hole you dug before. If the last image wasn’t enough bad news, this new one that formed was even more painful to witness.

“You have been grieving your losses very recently,” you said gently. “Your mind is currently weighed down by your past. I see you looking out at the sea in deep thought. There are flashes of…”

You stopped as you inspected the graphic images that suddenly appeared beyond your hands. You gasped at the terrifying horrors.

“What is it?” the low voice tried to search for understanding of what you were seeing. Even though the image was clearly laid out in front of him, it was still too ambiguous to tell when he lacked your years of experience.

“There are flashes of war,” your breath stifled as you watched his thoughts splayed out in images of lifeless bodies and destruction. “Very graphic details of war and death. Mr. Zhongli, I believe this image of suffering has been weighing over your mind like an anchor in the sea.”

He paused to process your comparison. “That is... a very good way to put it.”

“Though, I believe that despite the sorrow that emanates in this image, you are in a state of relief and tranquility. It seems you are grieving, but you are simultaneously at peace,” you hesitated again, “Yet I wonder what these graphic images of war are meant to represent. Surely we are not in an actual war, are we? Perhaps you are at war with your past, wanting to move on but haunted by your memories?”

Mr. Zhongli unfortunately knew the images you were seeing were, in fact, real events he had experienced in his life time and the truth was that lately he had been reminiscing on these events. Mortal life is kind to humans for them to be blissfully unaware and carefree of these harsh realities, he internally commented.

He still put your analysis into thought, though.

“I am haunted, indeed. I have been attempting to come to terms with my troubled past, just as you advised me only a few weeks ago. I have tried to follow your guidance, and although they resurface what I have been trying to repress, I believe I am coming to peace with what happened.”

You grinned. “That is very good to hear, Mr. Zhongli. I believe you are currently making good progress when it comes to moving on. Just remember that it is okay to remember your sorrow. Let your emotions pass through you instead of repressing them or rushing to move on. It is okay to take your time and let the thoughts bubble inside of you for awhile.”

He closed his eyes as you continued, letting your advice seep in. You continued. “Imagine the stillness of the sea. Many creatures and lost remnants take their place in the depths of the waters, but on the surface we see constantly moving yet serene waves wash over what is hidden below. Your memories are there to stay, Mr. Zhongli. But your present self, the surface of the water, can peacefully coexist with whatever is hiding deep within. Let these thoughts weigh you down momentarily, but rest assured, you will find balance and acceptance in due time.”

His eyes fluttered open as he reflected over your words. You always seemed to know what to say. “Your words have truly resonated with me, [Y/N]. And you are absolutely correct. I have been fighting these memories to avoid the pain, but it had not dawned on me that sorrow is... what I am meant to feel, not push away. I suppose your advice has put my mind at a bit more ease, and I suppose I am focusing too much on when I will be able to move on rather than allowing my thoughts to coexist for a moment.”

“Now you’re getting it,” you grinned with the relief that washed over his face.

“Shall we move on?” he offered.

You got to work on the last segment of the reading. If manifesting the other images didn’t take long enough, reading one’s future always took the longest. Interpreting an event that hasn’t happened yet always made you a bit nervous with your words. You never wanted to let a client down with an inaccurate reading.

On the contrary, this reading, despite taking quite awhile to appear on the surface on the table, was very clear.

“That is undoubtedly an image of me,” your eyes glazed over the facial features of the person in the manifestation. “I apologize for the delay, Mr. Zhongli, I must have accidentally let my thoughts seep into yours–“

“Do not fret, I believe this is accurate,” he interrupted. “Keep going.”

Your perplexed expression remained as you continued the reading. “I am admittedly stumped. There is nothing left in this image. I suppose it is simply me standing in what looks like some ruins. I am holding a staff, or some kind of long object.” You paused to think out loud. “Why am I in your reading? What could this possibly mean?”

Mr. Zhongli chuckled as you thought out loud. “Perhaps this is a good time to tell you why you are in my thoughts.”

“I’d love to hear it, I have never appeared in someone’s reading in my last decade and a half of experience. This is quite unique.”

He folded his hands in his lap, “For some reason, I have had this strange vision of training you. I’m not sure why, since you don’t seem like the fighting type, but there is some voice inside me that is telling me you are destined for something great and i need to take some part in it. What do you think, now that you see this vision as well?”

Your eyebrows rose in shock. “Training me? I guess this does relate to something I have been pondering as of late. I do not want to lay out my troubles on you though, my job is to interpret your life, not mine.”

“Our lives have clearly intertwined in this vision,” he insisted, “Please do not hold back for my sake. I have the time.”

You thought for a moment. How could you form the words without seeming too selfish? How could you maintain professionalism by talking about your personal problems?

“I am not the fighting type, Mr. Zhongli. Though, lately I have been quite depressed about the fact that I am not doing as much with my vision as other vision holders are. My life is uninteresting. The truth is that I am a simple fortune teller that plays with rocks. I hope you can understand why I am failing to interpret this reading,” you apologized. “It’s because this doesn’t seem characteristic of me at all. And with all due respect, after giving you readings for years, I would have never guessed you were versed in combat to train me!”

He chuckled. “I respectfully disagree. To tell you the truth, your talents surpass the abilities of many other vision holders. Not everyone can read thoughts or tell the future. Now that I mention it, I know of one talented astrologist in Mondstadt, but think about that. You are one in hundreds of thousands in Teyvat,” he reassured. “You did not receive your vision for no reason and I truly believe you are destined for something big. I regret not being able to realize this before.”

“How are you so sure of this? I would love to believe you, but I’m afraid I am not destined for much, really. Again, I am simply a fortune teller. What could I possibly do for Liyue other than read some rocks?”

He sighed and connected his palms with yours, interrupting the reading and wiping the manifestation off the table. The hovering crystals dropped onto the surface, making you gasp at the sudden sound.

“I am not who you think I am,” his amber eyes finally met yours for the first time this evening, which sent a chill down your spine. “Promise me you will not fret, for what I am about to show you may shock you.”

“What do you mean? What are you doing, Mr. Zhongli?” you slightly panicked as he firmly grasped your hands.

Suddenly, the room was engulfed in golden light that emitted from the seat across from you. Scattered, distorted images of a mystical dragon, a devastating war, and seven seats in Celestia flashed across your eyes as you stared at the beams of light. Death seemed to swallow you, but not take you. The baskets of crystals around the room shook with the surge of energy. The world seemed to destroy itself then remake itself over and over again within fleeting moments. These thousands of years of memories made your body tremble. It all happened within fleeting moments, and after a few seconds of your senses being overwhelmed, you finally pulled yourself together and connected the dots.

His expanded knowledge of Liyue’s history. The sudden gift of your vision immediately after your aunt passed. Grieving his losses and having flooded thoughts of war and death. Offering combat training. Remembering your favorites the same way he would remember Liyue’s customs and traditions. His glowing amber eyes alone.

Mr. Zhongli was the God of Contracts and overseer of Liyue. Rex Lapis, a being that lived for millennia, sat in the seat across from you. He had been posing as a mere mortal for years, taking readings as if he were any normal customer. The realization shook you to your core as you sat there bewildered, grateful, and horrified at the same time.

He let go of your hands after seeing that the information successfully processed in your mind. He saw something in you that was yet to be awakened, where the sky was the limit under your own expectations. This daydream of his was no simple vision – it was a calling. Internally, whether you agreed to it or not, he vowed that he would not leave your life until your true destiny was fulfilled.

He would see this vow fulfilled by offering you a contract that would change the course of your life forever.

#zhongli #zhongli x reader #genshin impact #rex lapis #mine #boom #genshin impact x reader

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chillwithaster · 3 years

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SUMMARY: “Wo ho ho there, Kaedehara, where do you think you’re going?” Venti and Xiao moved to grip each of his wrists. If Kazuha had not known any better, he would think they were shackles by how deathly their holds were.

Venti gave him a light smile. As if he’s going to let this bleach-streaked, toothpaste-hogger fiend anywhere close to his date to the-

“Your date?” Xiao started.

Whoops, did he say that out loud?

RELATIONSHIPS : Albedo/Kong | Aether (Genshin Impact) || Kong | Aether/Xiao | Alatus (Genshin Impact || Kong | Aether/Venti (Genshin Impact) || Kaedehara Kazuha/Kong | Aether

Please consider supporting me on Ko-fi because im kind of in a need for extra cash to help out my family during the pandemic ! every little bit helps and I'm giving out incentives for donations ! A dollar for a personalized reviewer and study guide or a genshin fanfiction of your choice !

AO3

“Well, this is most unfortunate.”

Venti could already feel the caffeine in his systems fuel his flight-or-fight response as he saw not one but two of his roommates standing outside the library.

He really needed a drink and pronto.

This was supposed to be his shining moment; the ballad to end all ballads; the righteous bard’s claim to a golden prince’s heart after their loveless rendezvous.

Venti had finally gotten the courage to ask Aether out to the Ludi Harpastum Dance – one of the most anticipated events in the entirety of their university. It was known as a Mondstadtian custom that he himself absolutely adored for its flowers, games, cuisines, and especially romantic atmosphere.

It was going to be perfect, really.

But no, Barbatos above and mighty, these – unsultry fiends decided to rain over such a wonderful parade.

“Agreed.” He shot a half-hearted glare at the white-haired male next to him, who had decided to dress-up from his usual plain tees and jeans.

Instead, Kazuha was wearing a half-buttoned black blazer (one that Venti swore was his, mind you) with black skinny jeans and a white polo-shirt. His hair was tied tighter than his usual lopsided ponytail, and Venti swore the other’s glasses had never been cleaner.

Now, though Venti was quite ecstatic to see his friend out of his usual horrendous fashion-style, he was visibly irked by the bouquet of Carnations in Kazuha’s arms.

“Move. You’re blocking the entrance.” The other two broke from their staring contest to find slitted amber hues.

For as long as Venti knew Xiao, even the Contemporary Music major knew his roommate looked good in a turtleneck.

And unfortunately for him, Xiao knew that too.

Sporting a sleeveless dark green turtleneck and a black leather jacket fastened firmly around his waist, Xiao glared from behind the brown, large toy dragon plushie he was hugging.

“Uh excuse me.” Venti chirped, a hand to his hip to assert his dominance as their senior. “I was here first, mind you. Now buzz off.”

Xiao cocked a brow at him. “Don’t tell me you’re bringing in food to a library.”

The braided boy gawked at him before guiltily looking down at the two boxes of doughnuts in his hands. Boxed in pastel green and white, his warm, delicious, better than what his other roommates could ever bake in their entire life, homemade desserts stared back in shame at the thought of being left behind.

“Of course not!”

Kazuha and Xiao did not believe him.

“Of course…” The Inazuman began before moving past Venti. “Now please excuse me, I need to speak with-“

“Wo ho ho there, Kaedehara, where do you think you’re going?” Venti and Xiao moved to grip each of his wrists. If Kazuha had not known any better, he would think they were shackles by how deathly their holds were.

Venti gave him a light smile. As if he’s going to let this bleach-streaked, toothpaste-hogger fiend anywhere close to his date to the-

“Your date?” Xiao started.

Whoops, did he say that out loud?

Venti turned to his supposed ally as he released Kazuha’s hand. However, despite his fumble, the Cheshire grin on his lips still slashed through. “Yeah. My date to the Ludi Harpastum Dance.”

If looks could kill, Venti would be six feet under.

“Isn’t it quite bold of you to assume he’d want … you?” Kazuha began, scanning him up and down.

“I am offended!” Damn, the senior could feel ten years being subtracted from his time on earth. “And yes I do! Unlike both of you, I’ve known Aether the longest. From all the way ever since he moved here, so that makes me his best friend.”

The other two were not convinced.

“Yeah. Friend.” Venti wanted to hurl something hard into Xiao’s smirk. “And aren’t you more mature than that? For such an old man, you’d think you’d be past using the length of a relationship to measure its worth.”

“I agree with Xiao.” Kazuha hissed from behind, and Venti almost held a high grin at knowing why he was so defensive. Kazuha only had a month in his little pool of Aether interactions, so he knew he stood no chance if that was the criterion. “One’s closeness mustn’t be measured by how much – but rather how well – that time spent together was.”

Venti rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, sure, whatever.”

Honestly, he had not expected this. Especially not from these two.

Venti had always assumed that Xiao wanted nothing to do with relationships, especially since Xiao had made it quite crystal clear to anyone that had tried making moves on him that he was not interested. Same goes for Kazuha, who seemed to be more inclined to pour his focus into his studies in Literature rather than pursuing a love life.

But alas, here they are.

“Excuse me.” The three snap out of their heated staring contest to find a mop of kempt blond hair behind them.

Albedo stared at the three suspicious figures with a raised brow. As the junior librarian of the campus, it was his job to make sure students were not loitering outside to cause a mess.

“You’re keeping others from entering. If you have no business here, could you please go back to your dormitories.” His eyes shift to the pastries in Venti’s arms. “No food inside.”

Venti could just hear the snickers from behind him.

“Right, of course.” He started. “Sorry, Albedo.”

The three would have moved to allow the blond entrance had Kazuha not seen the striking figure painted diligently on the canvas in Albedo’s arm.

“Wait.” The albino held a hand to Albedo’s shoulder. “That painting…”

The bright crimson on Albedo’s cheeks was already a dead giveaway.

Venti and Xiao stopped in horror before peering over Albedo’s shoulder. Ah shit.

Drawn with the precision only the famed Kreideprinz could attain was a figure basked in golden locks. The figure’s face was turned away ever so slightly from the viewer, framed by light bangs as soft eyes gazed longingly into the sunset behind them. But even without seeing any other details, the two already knew who this was.

Suddenly, a plushie and a batch of doughnuts just felt sad.

Albedo turned to face the trio, shamefully hiding the portrait behind his figure.

“You like Aether?” Venti began.

“Yes, and what of it?” Albedo brought his jacket’s sleeve to his mouth, covering the bright blush he was harboring. “I don’t believe that I have any reason to be quite ashamed of such…and for you to be so scrutinizing…”

The three stared at him like kicked puppies.

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

Albedo stopped and looked at the gifts in their hands.

“Ah.”

The weight of the situation just immediately dawned on the four.

“It seems the captor of ours hearts knows no restraint.” Kazuha sighed wistfully.

Xiao said nothing, but a nod was sufficient.

“…Are you all here to also ask him to the dance?” Albedo leaned on the door.

Even without an answer, he already knew.

“We can’t just go in there.” Xiao sighed. “It’ll end in a disaster, trust me.”

“But we cannot just let such an opportunity pass.” Venti saw how Kazuha was almost ready to barge in the doors for himself.

“Right, right, calm down there, he’s not going anywhere.” Venti offered.

Albedo moved to turn around, and the three watched him peer through the library’s wooden doors.

There seated amongst several stacks of books was their culprit. Aether had a textbook over his head and a whale pillow under his folded arms. With how slow his chest was rising, the four knew he was asleep.

“I should scold him next time. The library is not his bedroom.” Albedo smiled fondly at the figure, and the other three could only stare in defeat.

There was no way they could just barge in there and disturb his peace like that. Especially not when he looks so exhausted. Aether would just be overwhelmed by all their invitations, and the last thing they wanted was to be a burden to their beloved.

“So, now what?” Venti moved out of the way, glancing in confusion at the other three.

Kazuha and Xiao shared a look, but it was Albedo that first opened his mouth.

“We should take him to a date. A proper one. One from each of us. And one where we could help him alleviate his stress and show him a good time.”

The three stopped in consideration.

Albedo continued. “Think about it. He’s quite exhausted. If our feelings for him are genuine, then we should be willing to console him when he needs us the most. And only then – perhaps - he can decide who he wishes to take to the dance.”

Venti had wished his first date with Aether were under different circumstances.

But at the same time…he isn’t against the thought of spoiling Aether silly. Even if it is shared sentimentally with three other people.

After a moment, it was Kazuha that gave an opinion. “But we should set ground rules. If the purpose of this date to help Aether unwind, it is imperative that none of us ask him to the dance.”

“Why?” Xiao crossed his arms. “Then wouldn’t that just render our dates pointless?”

“Not quite.” Kazuha offered a smile. “Aether’s happiness should come first.”

Xiao agreed in a heartbeat.

“Okay, let’s go with that.” Venti smiled at the prospect.

Yeah, Aether’s happiness is the topmost priority. And if none of them could provide that for Aether, then Venti thinks that none of them (himself included) are worthy of Aether’s kindness!

“But…” His thoughts blank. “Can I go last?”

“Why?” Albedo raised a brow.

“My paycheck doesn’t come until next Thursday.”

If his peers had one thing in common, it was how stupid they could make someone feel just by staring.

“I had to cut back time for my classes, okay? Sheesh!” Venti argued.

“Then that’s settled.” Albedo sighed.

“May I go first?” Kazuha offered, and though none of the other males seemed to object, Xiao was quick to reply with a sharp ‘why’. The albino bashfully chuckled. “There is a musical I have been meaning to bring him to that is in three days. It would be a shame to miss it.”

There were no objections.

Albedo raised an open palm, only to be met with several blank stares.

“A form of contract. May the best man win.”

The blonds lips were quirked upward slightly, and though apprehensive, Venti shook his hand.

Venti wasn’t the smartest person, but he wasn’t dumb either.

He may not know a lot when it comes to studies, but he knows one thing.

When these three wanted something, they would break the earth just to get their way.

“Indeed! May the winds guide you in your endeavor.”

But it also takes one to know one.

#genshin impact #fanfiction #albedo #albether #xiao #xiaoaether #aether #kazuha #kazuhaether #venti #aeventi

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missorgana · 3 years

Text

you shine, i'll shine for you

pairing: alina starkov/genya safin, background nina zenik/matthias helvar

fandom: shadow and bone (tv)

rating: general

word count: 5163

warning: referenced cheating, swearing

summary: Genya thought she’d seen it all, until today, where a young person her age rushes through the door and approaches her with a strange question, “What sort of flowers do you get to tell someone to go fuck themselves?” (flower shop au)

(a fluffy au that’s been loooong underway !! inspired by this post, naturally. had a bit too much fun searching up flower meanings as well so... hope you enjoy!)

read on ao3

Genya believes flowers speak their own language.

They show love, adoration, and everything in between, and there’s a reason they’re used for most special occasions, she thinks; although a staple gift when you barely know someone, they’re also an invitation to get to know someone better.

Like Nina and Matthias. It didn’t surprise her in the least that he wanted to ask Nina out, alas, he asked Genya for help on the bouquet, since he just started. The look on her friend’s face when she told her about their fast date was too precious.

And naturally, this is why she opened her little flower shop in the first place. She loved the area, homely and cozy, the atmosphere and the residents.

She’s helped their clients with gifts for any situation you could think of; a last minute anniversary gift, flower arrangements for that big fairytale wedding, the perfect Mother’s Day bouquet, and the businessman getting flowers for his beloved sister’s grave touched her deeply.

Genya thought she’d seen it all, until today, where a young person her age rushes through the door and approaches her with a strange question, “What sort of flowers do you get to tell someone to go fuck themselves?”

She’s simply baffled by the request.

The client’s got restless hands and fire in their eyes, dark hair in a braided bun and wearing a baby blue dress, neck and ears dressed with gold jewelry and a matching septum piercing. They’re almost glowing in the late autumn sun, to be completely honest.

In fact, they’re already reaching for their purse, while Genya tries to work through her confusion and do her best - this is an assignment like any other, she reminds herself, this is her job.

“Oh, uh, depends on the occasion, really…” she starts, and since the customer in front of her curses themself as they find their wallet, the clear anger on their face intensifying, she figures she’ll need to keep her cool, “If I may ask?”

In customer service you’ll have to deal with rude clientele, God knows Genya has, and although this person in no way seems like that type of person, she still keeps it a priority to not upset them anymore than someone else already has.

She smiles, giving them less of her staple customer service smile, more a hesitant smile because the client also sniffs, and wipes their eyes rather stubbornly before looking back at her.

They’re also more beautiful than sunflowers in bloom, that much is obvious. But someone’s hurt them, and it makes Genya’s heart ache for them with a stinging kind of certainty.

“Sure,” they reply, sniffling again, “My boyfriend’s cheated on me for the second time.”

Second time? Dear God.

Genya doesn’t even know this man, but she does know he’s an asshole, mind the language. She’s sure she must look shocked, because the client chuckles bitterly, clutching their wallet a bit tighter.

“I just need him to fuck off for good. It’s long overdue, really.”

She decides to smile again, nodding, hoping she’s conveying her sympathy right, “I understand.”

And since she gets a timid smile back, albeit still with clenched fists down their side, it makes Genya a little more sure of herself again. If the person wasn’t pretty before, they’re even prettier now. She mentally curses whoever this man is for making them this angry, and making them cry. No one deserves that, but especially not them, Genya thinks.

Luckily it’s a Monday, a slow day for flower sales, and they’re the only customer inside, so she’s reaching for her encyclopedia immediately.

“I do know a bit about flower meanings,” she explains to them, “It’s not common knowledge, but I got a few ideas.”

The client nods, satisfied, and their eyes turn a little less angry and more curious.

“What’s your budget?” she asks while flickering through the pages, and the person in front of her takes less than a second to answer, “The biggest you got, he- We were supposed to go to Paris, so I’ve been saving up. Got some money to blow.”

What a fucking douchebag. Again, excuse the language, but this really sounds like the sort of person who’s drink she would gladly spit in. She might be really excited for this bouquet, now. Serves him right.

Everything that jumps to her mind should be in stock, actually. Genya’s never had to look up negative meanings to the flowers before, admittedly, but she does find some scribbled notes in what appears to be Nina’s handwriting next to the black roses. Revenge roses. Okay, maybe a bit too sinister, but she’ll keep them in mind.

She finds herself moving out behind the counter before she knows it, and when she picks up the first bunch she notices her client looking over her shoulder in an adorable kind of confusion, so Genya speaks up, “These are yellow carnations, they signal disappointment.”

They nod again, the small smile on their lips growing just an inch brighter. Their hands seem more relaxed, she finds herself noticing.

“Perfect,” they approve, “Is there a hate flower, you think?”

The bluntness no longer surprises her, and since the client huffs at themselves, Genya returns the smile with more certainty. Fair enough, she decides.

“Yes, surprisingly enough,” she chuckles, “Orange lilies. I also have foxglove for insincerity?”

“Oh, definitely.”

“I thought so,” Genya likes this person, she decides, probably way more than she should for a complete stranger, but… can you blame her?

She likes the guts it takes to make a bouquet like this, to be honest. And it’s like they keep getting prettier and prettier the more Genya looks at them, is that crazy? Probably. Matthias would roll his eyes at her, but she and Nina both know how cheesy he actually is, so whatever.

This client is also getting a hate bouquet for a soon-to-be-ex, though, so she’s real with herself, she can’t allow herself to get attached or anything. Would be unprofessional, regardless, but she can admire them anyway, right?

“What else, what else…” Genya wanders a bit more, her client following in tow, she’s got the centerpieces, but the white of this flower would add nicely to the overall look, “Meadowsweet! It, uh, it stands for uselessness.”

The person in front of her lights even more up at the suggestion. She’s thrilled, because honestly, not only helping them but also maybe, possibly impressing this client is suddenly very important to her.

“Alright, I think that’ll do nicely,” she finally tells them, writing the names and price ranges down on her notepad. “Unless you want to add some geraniums, too?” The customer looks at the sample she shows them, biting their lip in contemplation.

“It’s beautiful,” they confess.

“It is,” she agrees, “But it also signals stupidity.”

They laugh at that, a ringing sound like bells or… butterfly wings, maybe. This is just about making Genya’s whole week right now.

“Yeah, I need those.”

And so it’s decided, and she returns to her counter with the notes and shows the client the different bouquet sizes. She figures they might need a card, too, “I don’t have any ‘Fuck you’ cards, unfortunately. Will a blank one be alright?”

They nod, more eager than ever.

“Actually,” they’re running their finger over the sheet with the sizes before looking back at Genya again, “I know this is a big ask, but I was gonna leave the bouquet at his office. Do you think… we could, maybe, cover his desk in these flowers?”

Yet another suggestion that has her standing wide-eyed.

The client chuckles at themself again and fumbles a strand of hair behind their ear, “I’ll pay whatever it costs, I promise. If it’s even possible, that is.”

Genya considers this, and well, it’s definitely possible, they’ve got enough stock for it. The same thing as decorating a chapel for a wedding, sort of, but on a smaller scale. It’s doable.

“I do think my delivery guy can carry it, actually,” she replies, hoping Matthias won’t ask too many questions, but oh well, “We would need entry to the building, though-”

“I have the keys.”

“Oh.”

This person is well prepared. Genya loves it.

“It’s just really a matter of how many bouquets will be needed…” she’s thinking hard, an office cubicle is what she imagines the client is talking about, not too hard to fill up, realistically, “20? Will that be plenty?”

They full-on grin, “God, yes. Make it 22. I, uh, I got cash.”

And so it’s sorted, and a promise of scheduling the delivery for Wednesday, said soon-to-be-ex’s next work day, is settled. Matthias delivers the flowers a little before 8, the customer lets him in and they carry the load together, foolproof plan, Genya’s sure. “This is his number, Matthias Helvar, if you have any trouble, running late or getting into the building, whatever it may be.”

“Thank you so much for this, seriously,” they’re smiling almost from ear to ear, and honestly, she’s a little embarrassed that making this particular person as happy as they appear to be is making her feel so… warm? “This is perfect. I cannot wait to see his face. And walk away.”

It’s a funny sort of bonding experience, or feels like it, less than a transaction.

Before the client leaves, Genya gets their contact information in return, and an excited wave as the doorbell rings them out. Alina Starkov, the card says, and she/they pronouns right underneath.

She wonders if she’ll ever see them again. She doubts it. But she hopes she’s wrong.

Genya does, in fact, see a particular client again, one that for some reason stays on her mind after the delivery is done and in the five weeks till she sees them again, embarrassingly enough.

Matthias didn’t ask a lot of questions, besides the wide eyes and then looking the happiest she’s seen him since Nina kissed him for the first time. He didn’t need convincing, to put it simply.

“Whoever this Alina is, they got some guts,” he laughed to her while they were packaging all those flowers for him, “Practically covered our expenses for the month.”

That’s true, it’s lovely, that pure luck that sometimes hits them like a flood.

She’s over the moon, but of course, she doesn’t mention the part of it being because of that person’s bright smile replacing dried tear stains, and how the change made Genya feel like she’s never done anything more important than making her happy. God, Safin, Nina is rubbing off on you.

The boy lets her know the delivery went smoothly, and that Alina thanked him profusely, but that’s as much as she knows before the bell rings on a late Thursday and Nina’s voice calls from the front of house and reaches to the back where Genya is currently cutting stems.

She dries off her hands in their signature lavender apron - credit to Nina for that, as well - you’d be surprised how dirty a day’s work can get, and Genya takes care not to ruin any of her many, many floral dresses. Yes, she wears florals only to work. Once again, sue her.

She’s not sure why her friend would need assistance, she rarely asks for it, yet, there she stands.

Alina Starkov gives her a smile once again, but it’s less timid today, in no way tearful, instead calm and curious. Like they’re happy to see her, almost.

“Genya! Hi!” she says, and she’s more than a little surprised, much like their first meeting. Did she ever introduce herself? “Sorry, I hope I’m not disturbing, I, uh, I told Nina how grateful I am for your help with you-know-who. Wanted to thank you in person.”

That’s just way too adorable, isn’t it?

She feels her smile growing without even controlling it, and the brunette next to her is definitely looking like she wants to ask some questions ( many questions), but she’ll have to wait, geez, Genya cannot be having a romance novel moment in her store of all places.

Realising she also has to collect herself while being in front of the client and her best friend, and not zone out because her inner hopeless romantic is firing up inside her, she decides to brush it off and try to act casual, somehow, “I’m just happy to help. I assume it went as planned, then?” “Better than planned, even. He’ll be regretting it for the rest of his life, I hope.”

Alina laughs, and Genya gets that warm flush inside her chest again. And out of the corner of her eye, Nina looks less curious and more just straight up smug. Damn her.

“I think Matthias is calling me,” is actually how Nina first speaks up, and while the client nods, like they’re away in thought, Genya sees right through her.

“I didn’t hear anything.”

“You didn’t?” her friend questions, tilting her head, already moving towards the door Genya just came through, “Oh, I did. Can’t leave him hanging, might be urgent.”

“Nina-”

“Back in a jiffy!”

She’s left alone with Alina. Which is fine, you know, they were alone when they first met, right- but listen, Genya is still very much thinking about the person saying her name and the realization that she is, of course, wearing a name tag hits simultaneously with another shock: she remembered her name.

Logically, that’s not out of the ordinary at all. Gosh.

But she knows it’s not because it’s a shocking experience and more that a person who’s as beautiful as them is smiling at her and that they might just be the prettiest person she’s ever seen and that the thought of making her happy is making Genya happy, believe it or not. She doesn’t understand why this is different from any of her other experiences, but it is.

She hasn’t seen a smile like theirs before, that she knows. It makes her feel all strange and bubbly, like drinking champagne.

However, Alina is speaking up again, so Genya desperately needs to get out of her head.

“I was actually… uh, wondering if you’re maybe able to help me out again?” she starts, looking a tiny bit nervous, “If you’re not busy, that is, oh my God.”

And maybe Genya shakes her head way too quickly, but sue her, “Not at all!”

The client grins, the blush in their cheeks surely must be from the cold wind outside, and it just makes them prettier, if that’s even possible. “You’re a lifesaver.”

Now, she’s gotten this nickname before. Of course those times weren’t from Alina, and she makes sure to hide just how flustered she’s becoming, shaking her head and swinging her hand, “Stop it. I’ll try my best, heh.”

Alina clears her throat before continuing, ��My best friend’s coming home, I haven’t seen him in over a year, and… Do you have, like, friendship flowers? I wanna surprise him at the airport.”

Once again, the person in front of her is just downright adorable. It’s almost frustrating.

Genya chuckles, because she doesn’t need the encyclopedia for this request, and easily makes her way over to the roses.

The client looks over the bouquet she picks up with the very same joy as their first meeting. “Yellow rose is the friendship flower, actually! Usually put together with violets, but I can change it up if you want…?”

“No no no!” they hastily reply, already taking the offer of grabbing the bundle, looking down upon it with visible dimples and eyes shimmering with excitement, “They’re perfect. Mal’s gonna love them, I know it!”

“Ah, I hope so.”

She feels almost shy with all this flattery coming her way, especially from Alina, of course, and once more she thanks her just about five hundred times before hurrying out the shop, phone chiming in the distance.

Even after they’ve left, Genya still cannot believe they came back. And remembered her. Or like, specifically sought out her help, again. Huh.

Nina immediately peeks her head around the corner when the front door has shut, her face lit up like it’s Christmas Eve, “They seemed nice. And pretty.”

“Nina,” is all she can come up with, giving her best glare, while her best friend feigns innocence.

“Yes, Genya?”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

She sighs, “Just don’t.”

If Genya’s second encounter with Alina Starkov wasn’t surprising enough already, imagine her shock when she finds exactly this person entering her shop two months later. Events requiring flowers aren’t constant, which, again, is why she didn’t expect to see her ever again, but she’s not complaining, of course.

She’s working the counter when the door opening reveals Alina, their golden earrings present as always and her hair in two buns, wearing a cropped rainbow sweater and dungarees. Looking just as pretty as last time she saw them, oh God, that fluster’s coming right back.

Except she’s not alone this time. Alina’s got a taller stranger in tow, with curly hair, lip ring and pink floral shirt layered over possibly the most ridiculous graphic tee Genya’s ever laid her eyes upon.

Her recurring client waves when they spot her, heading straight to her, while their friend is almost spinning around in awe.

“Hello again,” Genya greets her, because fuck, she might just get excited over the mere sight of them. Meeting again. Is the universe trying to tell her something?

It’s an absurd thought that shouldn’t matter at all, get yourself together, she tells herself.

“Hi!” They seem even more excited than last time she saw them, and Genya wonders what the occasion could be before Alina continues, “How’ve you been?”

There’s that funny feeling again.

It’s kind of like a lump in her throat, this time, but still as bubbly and warm as before. It’s also just endearing for many different reasons, one being that she rarely gets customers twice, or thrice, and casual conversation is never as easy as theirs. She’s overthinking it, definitely.

“Busy, but good,” Genya tells her, and is about to return it, while remembering their companion, “You? And sorry, ah, I’m Genya.”

Alina’s eyes are like fireworks, almost, and she waves over her friend who’s entranced by the lilies. They’ve got a spring in their step as they make it over to them.

“This is Jesper,” they introduce them, and the tall stranger winks in greeting, “Jesper, this is Genya. I told him all about the shop, cause you’re like… the queen of flowers.”

Oh my God, why is she so sweet? It almost makes her feel embarrassed, the two of them looking at her as she imagines a blush rising just from the client’s words.

“Pleasure to meet you.”

“Right back at ya!” he replies, one hand in his pocket and another gesturing wildly in the air, “This is amazing, by the way. I see why Alina goes to you for stuff like this.”

Genya laughs, feeling strangely more comfortable and less nervous now. Still, she figures she should probably get to business, they wouldn’t have come here if they didn’t have a purchase in mind, right? As much as the compliments are much appreciated, Alina being the source of them is yet again making her slightly incapable of functioning normally.

She can only hope she’s improved at hiding crushes since high school, because, well… that is what this is. Genya can’t really lie to herself anymore, or pretend it’s nothing.

It’s making her slightly breathless, this person appearing and reappearing in her life.

But she does need to get over it, because as she tells herself every time, Alina is a customer and she is a salesperson. Her life isn’t a rom-com, as tragic as that may be.

“I hope your friend liked the flowers,” she said, not even needing to wait for a response as they lit up again and confirmed, dimpled smile and all, “Can I help you with anything today?”

Alina nods and hooks her arm with Jesper, “You know it. Friends of ours just got engaged, we wanna have a, uh… tiny celebration for them.”

“By that we mean surprise the shit out of them,” he follows with no hesitation, and Genya and Alina laugh, in syncron. Alright, that’s also totally fine.

“I’m sure we can figure something out for that,” she tells them. She figures flower meanings are less necessary this time around, and when she spots the bottle of champagne and heart shaped box in the client’s tote bag, she decides on a simple question, “Well, red roses are the classic. Most romantic. Do they have any favorite flowers or colors, and such?”

Jesper seems to be squinting in concentration, and Alina bites their lip. It’s quite endearing.

But the client’s eyes widen, then, and they blurt out with only a beat difference, “Pink!”

It comes out as a half-yell, actually, judging by the sweet elderly woman from down the block jumping in the other end of the shop, and Matthias nearly dropping the bunch of tulips he’s carrying onto the back of his bike wagon. The two look awfully apologetic during it all.

“Inej’s favorite color,” Alina explains with an embarrassed giggle, ducking their head, “It’s pink.”

Genya nods, “I see. How about… pink and white lilies, then?”

Jesper seems to smile in approval. “I like that. See, I would’ve just gone with pink roses.”

She gives them a sample, which they both seem pleased with, she hopes so at least, while chuckling once more at his statement, “Could work as well. But these are popular for gifts, they symbolise admiration.”

Her (favorite) client scrunches her nose with as big a grin as hers, already made up their mind, “I think she’ll love them.” And Genya, of course, feels a massive honor in helping them. Again. She can’t believe Alina’s come back two times. Gosh, she’s thinking too much.

“I’ll write these up for you, then,” she tells them while they’re already following her to the counter. At the same time, Jesper’s got furrowed brows in a thinkful sort of face, and Genya doesn’t really know if this is directed to Alina or herself, nevertheless he wonders aloud, “Not sure what my favorite flower is. You got one, Alina?”

“Duh,” the shorter person answers, without hesitation, “Sunflower. Everyone’s got one, right?

Sunflower .

In her mind, nothing else has made as much sense as this. This was the flower she first associated her client with, what their beauty could only be compared with. They shine, so much it’s near blinding Genya, at this point. Yes, she knows it’s cheesy, but it’s only in her head, after all.

Genya realises this question, however, is very much meant for her, and so she answers while typing in their total, bouquet already wrapped up to go, “I think so, yeah. I think your favorite means a lot for you, as a person.”

The taller man seems to consider this.

Then, “I like daffodils.”

“They mean rebirth,” she tells him, “Good choice.”

He looks pleased by her explanation. Alina seems to be the one deep in thought now, though, in fact, they’ve already paid and got the bunch in hand, Jesper saluting Genya in goodbye when the client asks, “What’s your favorite?”

As many times before, they never cease to surprise her, do they?

“My favorite flowers?”

She nods.

“Magnolias,” Genya needs no time to consider this, it’s easy, “Perseverance.”

Alina’s got her wide grin again, but… it changes, a little bit. It’s almost secretive. Promising. Regardless, Genya doesn’t know what to do with her thoughts about it, or the client bidding them their own farewell with, “Till next time!”

She’s quite sure this person will be the death of her, sooner or later.

And as if they could read her mind, Nina and Matthias appear at her side, the man’s arms crossed and her best friend’s arm around his waist, both looking at Genya like they could somehow dig into her brain and know all her secrets. They’re so annoying sometimes. When they’re not adorable. Mostly annoying, though.

“What are you two looking at?” she asks them, and the couple exchange a look before Nina grins.

“They asked for your favorite flower,” she says, her boyfriend nodding in agreement. Genya doesn’t know what to say.

“I know.”

Matthias cocks a brow, “You do?”

She scoffs in disbelief at whatever game they have going on, “Yes?”

Her best friend sighs and puts her free on her shoulder. She tilts her head, “Matthias asked for my favorite before our first date.”

Genya frowns. “I know.”

Nina then chuckles, because they’re both weird and wonderful at the same time, apparently, “You’re impossible.”

“I know what you’re suggesting, Nin,” she then says, because come on, it’s obvious what they’re implying. And it’s bullshit. It was just a question, you know? It must’ve been. Curiosity, that’s all. “But that is impossible.”

And because Nina’s looking at her in disbelief, she tilts her head in return, and her friend gives up on the staring contest soon enough. “Whatever you say, babe.”

As Genya expected, although much to her disappointment, it seems she won’t see anymore of her beautiful client with raven hair and smile like the sun itself, tragically.

It’s her own fault, really, getting… a bit too attached. She’s fine!

Of course Nina and Matthias are right about her crush, she already knew this. And a month after their last meeting, she admitted defeat just so they could get off her ass about it. Now, though, her best friend looks at her with a sad smile sometimes, like she can sense the disappointment that Alina’s presence is missing entirely from the shop.

They don’t have anything requiring flowers, she didn’t expect them to, all the time. And like, asking for Genya’s favorite flower didn’t mean anything, as her friends kept insisting. They were having a conversation. Customer and shop owner.

Why does she miss her? God, Genya needs to get a grip. It’s just a bit annoying, because she doesn’t feel bubbly and light anymore without Alina Starkov, and she still loves her job, of course , but maybe she does find herself a little bit jealous when the wedding season kicks in and the boutique is full of couples day in and day out, young and old, all looking at each other like no flower can compare to their love. It’s making her a little nauseous, not that she’ll ever admit it out loud.

Strangely enough, she does get a visit from a couple, a grumpy fellow and a woman with a soft smile, who never let go of each other’s hands while Genya sketched out ideas for the flower arrangement. They wanted geraniums. She somehow recalled her name: Inej Ghafa. And Kaz Brekker. Huh.

Matthias’ birthday passes, where Nina gets him cornflowers (of course), and a month later yet, a familiar face returns when Jesper stumbles in the door in excitement, eagerly purchasing a bouquet of irises for his boyfriend.

Even her mom’s in love, she tells her over the phone, and God, she’s happy for them all. Maybe Genya’s just been lonely too long.

She hadn’t even thought of dating in forever. Hadn’t thought of being single could possibly bore her, or tire her. Until, you know. Alina.

Whatever, whatever!

She’ll get over her stupid infatuation, eventually, she just needs to focus on her work, it was just a string of coindences, and once wedding season is over she’ll forget all about her favorite client who got away. Hopefully.

The universe has way, way different plans for her, though, apparently, because as she and Nina lock up for the evening, Matthias helping them carry the last load of a busy day even though this is technically his off-day (probably an excuse to be with his girlfriend even more, she suspects, but hey), Genya stops in her tracks in the parking lot.

The couple a few steps in front of her appear totally unfazed. They must know what’s going on.

And her suspicion is right, because Nina’s grinning from ear to ear when she looks back at her, “You okay, Gen?”

Genya blinks in disbelief.

Her car. It’s completely covered in… in magnolias. She can barely see any trace of her car, in fact, if it wasn’t for the lights blinking when she unlocked it.

What the hell is going on?

She’d had a rather normal day, busy but normal, and scheduled to drive back home to her mom for her birthday early tomorrow. But this is strange. Unreal. Not necessarily in a bad way, the flowers’ smell reaches her all the way over here, but just strange.

Matthias cocks his head and grabs Nina’s hand, “Aren’t you gonna look at your gift?”

“My… my gift?” she asks him, not sure what to say anymore. They definitely had a hand in this. “You already gave me gifts yesterday,” she tells them, dumbfounded.

Her best friend rolls her eyes, “It’s not from us, dummy.” “Who’s it from, then?”

“Shh! That’s a surprise.”

“Nina,” she warns, feeling the exhaustion take over her ever so quickly.

The brunette kisses her cheek and then tugs at her boyfriend’s arm towards her own car. Matthias winks. Screw them.

“Take a look!” they yell to her.

Well… okay then. Genya approaches her car slowly, only a little scared someone’ll jump out from the mountain of pink flowers and scare her half to death. Of course, this isn’t a prank, because her friends are bad at pranks, and the magnolias are so gorgeous she may be getting a little teary eyed.

These little ones reminded her to keep going, when she was at her lowest. It’s stupid, but she felt like she could overcome anything, learning the flower’s meaning and finding a blossom outside of her window back then, like a little reminder from the universe. That’s why they're her favorite. Perseverance.

Bugger, she should probably get started on digging her vehicle out from somewhere in there. Except… her eyes fall upon a little pink card, secured on the wiper. And on it, her name is written, in cursive, gold letters.

Her curiosity takes over, of course it bloody does, and she picks up the card immediately, and when she flips it over…

Is this a fever dream?

Happy early birthday, Genya Safin. Call me? Sincerest wishes (and apologies for the car, grand gesture), Alina Starkov.

This is most definitely a fever dream. Except the card is very real in her hands, and the smell of the magnolias embrace her like a warm hug, and her friends honk as they leave the lot, laughing audible even with the windows all the way up.

Alina’s phone number is written at the bottom, underlined and everything, with a tiny heart next to it.

A grand gesture. A grand romantic gesture, at that. Genya cannot for the life of her stop smiling, big and in shock and flushed and excitement flowing through her veins.

They remembered.

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lovelyirony · 4 years

Text

cosmetology anon: this is for you, although I tweaked the idea a bit. i hope you don’t mind!

Acquiring Tony Stark as an Asset had been purely by chance; after all, he wasn’t planned on being in the car. He was still an insolent teenager, angry with the world and angry with his father. They didn’t think he would’ve gone to a business party.

But his mother...well. They hadn’t thought that Tony Stark was a mama’s boy.

Because there Tony is, gasping for air while glass glitters all around him, looking near about like an angel that was torn from heaven with how it surrounded him.

They had thought he was dead.

At least, up until the point when he had looked Winter Soldier dead in the eye, said “hey you fucking asshole” and got a pretty damn good shot in the thigh.

Someone on the brink of death might have tried the gun, but never the insult.

So Hydra gets a brand new toy.

Not easily broken, which is a pain-and-a-half to deal with. At least with the Winter Soldier, he was too delirious with blood loss to notice who was operating on him, what they were attaching.

Tony Stark is on a whole other level.

He bites, he kicks, he scratches. Quite annoying, they just want him to tire himself out.

“Stark Industries doesn’t negotiate,” he hisses, trying to kick one of the nurses in the teeth.

“Who said anything about negotiating?” says the head doctor viciously. His teeth glint in the fluorescent lighting, scalpels reflecting brilliantly onto the walls. “As far as the media knows, you’re dead. No one is going to come looking, and no one even knows who we are.”

They make him sleep on a cot nearby Winter Soldier. Which is terrifying, to say the least. Not that he can kill him. He can’t touch him either.

He’s in a deep freezer. Eyes closed, thank god. But they put him there and they tell him all about how he came to be there.

“Everyone thought Barnes hit a rock and died,” one of the techs says, checking the machine. “He nearly did, but Zola helped us fix him up. Course, that was after a couple of times where he got to someone’s neck, and that was even before programming.”

“Programming?”

The tech leers at him, grinning. He’s standing, Tony’s sitting. It shouldn’t be as intimidating as it is.

“Oh yeah, Stark. They’re gonna fix you all up.”

“I don’t need fixing.”

“Tell that to Winter Soldier.”

“And what if your little machine gets rid of me, hm? Kills me?”

“We add you to the other disappointments, or we dig a shallow grave and hope you’re found decades later.”

Not exactly promising.

But here’s the thing: the tech was wrong. They won’t add him to the pile of disappointments.

The last time he went to a therapy appointment, his therapist said he had a “deep-seated need to be liked and be useful, which could be dangerous later.”

He’s assuming that Doc Chesterfield wasn’t exactly expecting Tony to be in the running towards becoming America’s Next Top Murder Machine, but Doc wasn’t really the kind of guy who was “in the know” about a lot of things.

That need to be liked and useful was about to come in handy.

Barely able to legally drink, he goes to the main doctor in charge. “You need me.”

The doctor looks at him incredulously.

“You think we need a kid to do all this shit? You think we haven’t figured it out?”

“You can’t have Barnes-”

“Winter Soldier, boy.”

“Fine, your little toy soldier. You can’t keep him out longer than necessary, otherwise his brain realizes that all of you are shitty and tries to break out. Again. You need someone else to take a look at it, and I’m the best bet you got.”

“And why would that be?”

Tony grins, and they see a shadow of what he has had in his life, exactly just who he used to be. Who he still is, at the moment.

“Whether you want to admit it or not--I’d say go ahead and admit it, I’m fun like that--I’m the smartest one in the room, maybe in the country. Maybe in two countries. I could swing the UK, it’s not like they’ve had anything interesting for the last hundred or so years--”

“Get to the point,” the handler hisses.

“I can help with arm maintenance. I’m not gonna do anything else to this poor guy, but I wanna stay alive and I’m not letting you erase my fucking mind because you want to have another toy soldier to march to your drum.”

“You almost make a compelling case,” the handler says. “We do need a mechanic on the arm, so to speak. But if he only comes out when we need him...well. Maintenance is manageable.”

Tony pushes his chin out.

“I can do better than your best.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t care. You’re too big of a liability.”

It is at this moment that Tony realizes he cannot talk his way out, or fight his way out, but damn he gets a scalpel and tries.

Manages to slice across the face of the handler. Nerve damage, tissue damage, quite potentially a very ugly nose. All very nice.

That gets him moved up by a month.

They send him to a chair that’s probably a lot worse than he’s imagining, give him a mouth guard, and tell him to scream all he likes. Sometimes it’s better to not have a voice later.

They say it like they’re quoting one of those shitty articles from Cosmopolitan that discusses the top forty-five best ways to move in the bedroom or something. He and Rhodey use to read it all the time whenever they visited one of the sororities.

(He misses Rhodey, more than words can say. The tears burn in his throat as the chair powers up, but he doesn’t dare cry. He hasn’t told them about Rhodey, and he doesn’t want him used against him.

He doesn’t want to be used against Rhodey.)

Tony Stark becomes the Mechanic. He stares too long, moves a bit slow at times, and doesn’t like people touching his things.

Hydra thinks it’s a success.

Tony thinks they should’ve done more than three sessions of go-round for their little buzzy-chair.

Just god, have none of them had to act before? Is that what this is?

So long as he doesn’t show any aspect of any real personality, they think he’s a walking-talking robot.

Should’ve just called him Chatty Cathy and attached a pull-string to his back with loadable phrases if they were just gonna call him the Mechanic and think his silence and weird staring habits were fine.

Winter Soldier needs maintenance.

Tony tries very carefully to keep his persona up. He thinks he’s doing a good job until the nurse leaves the room for her smoke-break and Winter Soldier gives him a look that’s so...different.

"They think you’re like me.”

“I am.”

“No.”

“And how can you tell?”

“You’re not hurting my arm.”

“Well I can, if you wanna be a masochist about it.”

He blankly stares.

“Why didn’t it work?”

“Not enough rounds.”

“We need to stop talking or they’ll watch the cameras.”

“Got it.”

Tony is not facing the cameras. They have no suspicion now, and if they can’t see him move his lips, then there’s no worry.

He faces Winter Soldier.

“You wanna get out of here? Tap once on your left, right on my thigh for yes. Twice for no.”

Tap.

There it is.

“Well, it’ll take time. You okay with that?”

Tap tap.

“I can’t make wishes come true,” Tony says sarcastically. Soldier hides a smile. “But. I have someone who might be looking for me. Or he’ll know it’s me.”

“A friend?”

“Something better. Family.”

It takes a little while. Despite Hydra’s incompetence at programming Tony out of his own system, they’re good at watching. They’re good at sniffing out undercover plans, so they set nurses to watch him and give him the worst food in his life.

And he can’t say anything about it.

They’re probably rations leftover from World War II, and here he is, pretending like it doesn’t bother him.

The first mission they’re out on, Tony wants so badly to break free. It looks too easy, probably because it is.

“The first time I escaped, they dragged me back and nearly gave me a matching leg to go with the arm,” Soldier murmurs in Russian.

(Tony’s had to take Russian classes. God, he’s lucky he has an eidetic memory otherwise he’d be up a paddle with a slotted spoon.)

“What, didn’t want to put more value on yourself?”

“Something like that,” Soldier says grimly. “Pay attention. They’re gonna put you in a cafe, have you run surveillance. You report back to me. Call me Winter.”

“Call me Mechanic.”

“That’s the name they chose?”

“Didn’t count my vote.”

Winter snorts.

“Time to get a move on.”

Tony has never been good at hiding his emotions, but by god he’s learning on the fly. At least Winter has a mask, and they’re...well, they’re working on one for him.

It’s not exactly priority, because everyone in the world thinks he’s dead.

Well. Shouldn’t say everyone. There is one guy who has decided that Tony didn’t die.

James Rhodes is a very smart guy, graduated top of his class at MIT and has full honors.

He also knows that Tony has fallen off of beds, out of chairs, down one flight of stairs, and tripped on just about everything.

And he’s lived. He has defied near-death experiences before, and he’s been fine.

Maybe Rhodey is crazy. He most likely is.

But he doesn’t mind being crazy if no one can actually confirm that Tony died. The funeral was closed for the family, not even Rhodey could go.

“Sorry kiddo,” Obie had said, not sorry at all. He’s never liked the kid, thought him too blunt about situations that he didn’t need to be blunt about.

So Rhodey thinks that this is a conspiracy, only he doesn’t want his best friend to end up on a YouTube video five years later talking about the “tragic disappearance” and how “no one could figure it out.”

He’s James fucking Rhodes. Sometimes goes by Rhodey. And he’s got this.

Winter Soldier does not “got this.” He is currently being thrown against a wall, and grunting as he looks at the target.

Tony is currently trying very hard not to have a full-blown emotional show-off, because he is supposed to be fixing up some of the weapons and sending them out.

It is rather stress-inducing, once you start thinking about it.

He tries not to.

God, he’s not even getting pizza after that. He’s probably going to get some bullshit like a vanilla nutritional protein shake.

Out everything he’s been put through, and that’s the thing that makes him retch.

Barnes is looking...rough. He got shoved a lot, the mission didn’t exactly go to plan, which turns out to be quite the large problem.

Because Tony took over. They found out that he can actually assemble weaponry and aim with nearly-one-hundred-percent accuracy.

They think it’s because they fried his brain and injected some sort of back-alley-serum.

It’s not.

He’s not even sure if their serum worked, if he’s being completely honest.

But this? Oh god.

The doctors look at him with an almost giddy joy.

“We’ll have Soldier train you.”

"He is not going back into the cryogenic chambers?”

“No, not...not until you prove yourself.”

“I have proven myself accurate with mechanical fixes.”

“Always best to diversify your skills.”

“Expand.”

(Tony’s been messing with them a lot. They’re not positive he knows advanced vocabulary. He does, he just hates them.)

Barnes is...not exactly excited that he’s not becoming an ice-pop.

“I’m...training you?”

“Yeah, looks like it. You wanna teach me how to choke someone with my thighs?”

“Only when they send the Widows.”

“Who are they?”

“Best damned assassins you’ll ever have the displeasure of experiencing.”

“Aw, you’re learning how to curse!”

“Shut up, they’re onto us.”

Winter Soldier and the Mechanic have a...cordial relationship. At least, out of the ring.

In the ring, they don’t rather like the other that much. Mechanic much prefers to avoid Soldier at all times.

“You can’t just run from every opponent,” Winter hisses.

“You’ve been doing it since 1948,” Tony responds in a robotic tone, nearly missing a kick to the shins. “I don’t see why not.”

He smiles at that one, looking at Tony.

He was...Tony was unique. He would whisper stories in the dead of night, mostly about a man named Jarvis and a boy his age named “Rhodey.”

“His parents...they didn’t actually name him that, did they?”

Tony has to bury his face in his pillow to hide his face from laughing.

Winter got a good look at that smile.

It’s chillingly nice to look at it, and maybe that’s because he hasn’t smiled in years, or maybe it’s because he’s never seen another person smile with joy in it for decades.

For a couple more months, nothing on their side happens.

Rhodey, however, learns how to use Tony’s homemade AI for illegal purposes!

He’s figured out lots of things.

Tony was never confirmed dead. Technically, he’s a missing person.

Which means they don’t know if he’s dead because they never found him.

Secondly, there’s a strange email to someone who goes by Zola.

Well, Rhodey and Tony didn’t stay up until three a.m. to solve impossible codes for nothing.

James Rhodes figures out that the Winter Soldier isn’t some whispered about myth, and so he decides to try and find him.

He’ll need to ask Mama if he can use the sedan, but it should be fine. After all, he has a friend to find.

Hydra is getting too used to having them out. Tony’s been coaching Barnes on not letting his reactions be at the front and center.

He’s remembering a lot more. Starting to become a bit more human-like.

He actually doesn’t like the food now, which is a tasteful improvement.

“When we get out,” Tony whispers in night. “I’m going to make sure that you get the best goddamned pizza the earth has ever seen. And we’ll celebrate your birthday.”

“When is my birthday?”

“I...huh. I don’t know. That’s not the fact I remember from school.”

“So you remembered that my favorite movie star was Hedy Lamarr, but not my own birthday?”

“In my defense, Ms. Lamarr is far more memorable than a simple date on the calendar.”

Barnes smiles.

“I can’t wait to see a picture of her.”

“You will, soon.”

Rhodey is getting close.

The only barrier is convincing his mama to use the sedan.

“What for?”

“A trip.”

“To?”

“Washington DC?”

“Why are you questioning that, young man?”

“Um, because of gas money? Maybe?”

Mrs. Rhodes stands up to her full height of five-foot-two and stares.

“What’s the real reason? I didn’t raise a son who could lie to his mother successfully.”

Rhodey sighs.

“Tony’s alive. I think. I’m, like, ninety-five-percent sure.”

Her face softens.

“Oh baby, you’ve talked about this with your therapist, and-”

Rhodey glares.

“It’s not about the therapist’s opinion, mom. I broke into some records. There was a closed-casket funeral, and technically? They didn’t have a body for Tones. I know he’s out there, and I think I got a lead with the help of Jarvis.”

“I thought Jarvis was dead.”

“Not Edwin, Mama. Tony’s creation, an AI named Jarvis.”

Mama looks at him carefully.

“You sure this is what is going to make you happy?”

“I don’t care about being happy, I want to see if I can bring him home, Mama.”

She dangles the keys.

“If you scratch this car up, I will not hesitate to tell every single aunt at church about this and have common sense walloped into you.”

“I promise I won’t,” Rhodey says. “I know what I’m doing.”

“I’ll pack you a bag. And you need your church clothes.”

“Ma...”

“Don’t Ma me, I’m your mother, I know what’s best,” Mrs. Rhodes says, sweeping into the kitchen. “Don’t tell your daddy what you told me, you’ll give him a heart attack.”

“I thought I was gonna give you a heart attack,” Rhodey says.

She turns, eyes twinkling.

“You got a lot of learning to do, young man. But go on to DC for me.”

First stop: gas station.

Next stop: saving Tony.

If Tony had known that his friend was so dedicated to saving him that he would drive his mama’s sedan five miles above the speed limit, perhaps he would have stayed put and played nice.

But Tony did not know this, so he was currently working on fixing Barnes’ arm to shoot projectile missiles that looked like screws to the security cameras.

“You think they’re counting each screw when none of them even know what your arm can actually do? Not like Zola is physically around anymore,” Tony mutters, holding a screwdriver in his mouth.

“What’s your plan for escape?”

“Element of surprise, my dear Watson.”

“Don’t like that,” Barnes mutters. “What’s your plan once we’re out?”

“New York City.”

“That’s it?”

“You underestimate exactly how much you can hide,” Tony says. “Believe me. We’ll live in an apartment in Queens.”

Rhodey is about ten minutes away.

Tony and Bucky have eventually decided to break out, and are having a lovely time shooting a base and putting people through the walls. Really, they shouldn’t have made it out of drywall. Too easy.

“What fucking vehicle are we taking?!” Barnes yells.

“I...I will work on it!”

“You didn’t think about that?!”

“I was thinking about escaping from a shitty Hydra base!”

Here comes the sedan!

Rhodey thought there was only one person, so now the ex-assassin is sitting on his little sister’s school folder, and getting pink glittery on his military pants.

This was not the plan.

He is also still only going five over the speed limit, because this is Mama’s sedan.

He forgot about the little sticker at the back that says “My Son is on the Honor Roll at MIT!”

“Rhodey love of my life, please go faster than forty miles an hour,” Tony hisses.

“I can’t believe you’re alive, let me do one thing at a time,” Rhodey stresses. “I bought you hot fries, they’re on the floor in the green bag.”

“You thought of road trip snacks?” Bucky asks.

“Yes! And who are you?”

“Bucky Barnes.”

Rhodey whips his head around.

“You lived?”

“I’ve been told. Eyes on the road and turn left.”

One tire barely is on the road as he whips the wheel, slamming onto the curb.

“We are not allowed to fuck my mama’s car up!” Rhodey yells. “Tony, Bucky...do whatever you have to.”

“How amenable are you to me paying for a new back window?” Bucky asks, left arm already raising.

“What do you mean-?”

And...there goes a projectile!

After twenty minutes of driving around, ten of that being avoiding police blockades, they finally are out on the highway, no one in sight.

Tony finally breathes.

“Put on your seatbelt,” Rhodey murmurs. “To New York?”

“To New York.”

By all accounts, the table of three men who look slightly rattled and in danger is not actually the worst table that waitress has ever had.

In fact, the only odd thing that she’s going to say about it is that the young man on the left is wearing a polo shirt, and it is not Sunday, so no church services. A personal outfit choice.

The man in the middle seems to know this.

“Rhodey, seriously?”

“What? It’s laundry day!”

“I know you had other shirts. I know you did.”

“Just because you hate polo shirts doesn’t mean you get to hate on me, especially after the shit I just pulled.”

“He has a point,” says the man on the right.

“You have no opinion on this. I just met you.”

“Are you guys ready to order?” She asks nervously, tapping at her notepad with a chewed-up pen.

They all stare blankly at the menu, and then back at her. She taps her pen one more time.

“I’ll...um...give you some more time.” She shakes her head. She’s not gonna ask, she doesn’t get paid enough.

Rhodey looks at the two of them. He knows that things...well.

Tony probably isn’t going to be playing Jeopardy! with this experience.

Hell, he probably won’t want to see a therapist about this, and Rhodey will have to play Jeopardy! or some obscure dating show simulation with Tony to even help.

And then there’s the matter of a man who’s supposed to be dead.

That and...Rhodey decided to finish up college with a master’s degree.

No one ever said life was easy.

But.

It might be fun.

163 notes · View notes

angelisverba · 5 years

Text

golden

in which y/n’s life is dark, but the fae king sees she’s golden.

word count: 12k

pairing: y/n and the Fae King, Harry

warnings: allusion to suicidal thoughts, angst, & a very sad reader.

note: This is my fic for the #FineLineFicChallenge that @hsogolden is hosting. I submitted for Golden! Enjoy :)

It was a known fact, that one isn’t to mess with the Fae.

Don’t try to communicate with them.

Don’t try to find them.

Don’t do anything with them.

Masters of twisting the truth because they cannot tell lies, the ethereal beings were dangerous in the sense that they cared not for anything but their own interest. If they wanted your lover, they would do everything to take them from you.

But y/n wasn’t one to listen to the rules.

Especially one that promised her a better life, at no cost other than to seek it.

Her life wasn’t exactly shit, but it also wasn’t enjoyable. It was bland. And, to put it straight, lonely.

She had no family, and no friends or lovers. Life had made surviving her number one priority, and bouncing from job to job her favorite hobby. The girl lived in an apartment that had her feeling like a heroin addict, and she’d never had a dose of drugs in her life that wasn’t Tylenol. And, well, she had the looks of one; a feral, dead look in her eye accompanied with a malnourished body from eating what her pocket change allowed her to: ramen noodles.

It was pathetic. She had to shower using a cup because the overhead didn’t work, and she couldn’t sit because the bathtub was full of rust on the edges. Her walls were cracked and at night there was a faint scratching of nails in the ceiling. The sink was missing a knob, the light bulb in the mini-fridge didn’t work, and neither did the one in her room.

But, she couldn’t complain because it was all she could afford. Y/n was grateful that she had a roof over her head, even if it was infested with rats, and the cheapest, tattered clothes on her back. At least she had food, water, clothes, and a home, right? Even if it was the worst quality and her unfortunate state of mind made it worse?

View it however, she was done. Had been for a long time, but she didn’t really know how to stop, how to live a new life.

Until that night.

* * *

* **

It was another lonely night for y/n, and those she usually spent in chic bars she would never be able to afford, sipping on drinks and observing. Learning; mentally taking notes of how rich people lived their lives and all the mannerisms that came with it because maybe, just maybe, if she acted like one, she’d be one. That dainty toss of the wrist, the graceful, hypnotizing tilt of the chin that told a man you were interested.

She didn’t dress like she was going to the bar, which made her stick out like a sore thumb in the high-ceiling, leather-furnished, glass-walled place, and she didn’t drink alcoholic beverages. She sat at the far end of the bar counter, sipping on a glass of tap water the bartender gave her because he pitied her, and watched. That last part didn’t really matter because it turned out, rich people got more drunk than people with less money than them-- a blacked out woman (or three) ending up on the marble floors at the end of their outing. Men never tried to talk to her because she always showed up in ragged jeans and shirts with holes in them, and women wouldn’t even look her way.

That is of course, until another dead-eyed person walked up to the counter.

She was a Scottish woman, or maybe Irish-- y/n couldn’t remember much. Only that she talked of fairies prancing and singing around mushroom tops and a fairy king that got angry when she said thank you. Drunken slurs, that were only made more incomprehensible by her accent, spilled from her lips at the first sip of brandy, and at the sound of her foreign tone, y/n’s ears perked to hang onto every word.

“Never in my forty two years of putrid life did I see something like that, and I doubt I ever will again.” The woman said to the bartender. She was wearing a sleeveless cardigan the color of hazelnuts when they’ve fallen off trees, decorated with golden medallions that jingled every time she moved her shoulders. Big, was an appropriate word to describe her hair; voluminous, blown out Barbie waves that plumped at the top of her head and bounced all down her back to end at her hips. Her eyes were an engaging amber color, the kohl black charcoal on her eyelids enhancing them like boiling magma, the reddish-brown shade in stark similarity with the blood-red shade of paint on her thick lips. “Dance with us, to your heart's content, so fun you’ll want to never stop, them little brats tried to get me, they did! If it hadn’t been for the Fae King, well--” she huffed, a jerking movement with her entire body, “-- I wouldn’t be here, that’s for sure.”

The bartender, a middle-aged man in a flannel with a 5 o’clock shadow sprinkled on the lower half of his face, pursed his lips and rolled his eyes as he wiped down a shot glass with a rag. “Sure as hell never seen a drunk lady talk about faeries before. Santa Claus? Sure, but faeries? You must be on some heavy stuff, ma’am.”

Y/n was staring into the center of her glass, watching the water ripple, strangely comforted by the slow movement of the liquid; her fingers tapped rhythmically at the ridges molded into the edges of the cup. It looked as if she wasn’t paying attention, with eyes cast downwards, but every inch of her was standing on edge, eager for a story. Essentially, this was the reason why she came to these bars when she felt like it, to catch a story; be entertained. Her own life wasn’t enough, she needed more, even if it didn’t belong to her.

“Aye, lassie!” shouted the woman, lifting her glass with a pointed finger towards the lonely girl at the other end of the bar.

At her loud exclamation, y/n glanced up to see what was the cause of the remark, and found the woman looking at her with a peculiar, interested look in her eye. Y/n twisted to look behind her, oblivious that the woman’s true subject was her. Expecting someone to be standing where the woman pointed, she returned to her original position, confused.

“Lassie, it’s you I’m talkin’ to, listen to this tube, says faeries aren’t real. You believe me don’t you?”

Because the feeling of humor was so scarce in her life, it had turned into a strange and foreign feeling rendering her useless in how to react-- and while y/n found the woman humorous in her drunken ramblings, she wasn’t quite sure how to express it. A wormy smile played on her lips as she nodded her response, the bartender throwing her a bewildered look because it was the first time he’d seen her interact with anyone other than him.

“Well den, I guess you’ll listen to me, won't you? I’ve gotto tell sumone or I’ll go radge.” The woman throws her head back and finishes what’s left of her drink, wiggling two fingers at the bartender to signal: she wants another. Y/n watches from her seat as the lady hops off her seat, one hand on the counter to keep her standing as she wobbles over in her direction; the medallions on her cardigan tinkling with every swish of her hips. When she stood, the dull heels of her knee high boots slapped against the sleek floor, the noise making y/n jump.

“Listen, here,” she sat on the empty bar stool next to y/n with a labored huff, “don’t you ever go walking round the woods on a full moon. My own mother been telling me that since I was on her tit, and I should have listened.” Her tone was slightly spiteful, and exasperated at her own action. She made the same gesture at the young girl, two long-nailed fingers curling and drawing y/n closer to her, as if she was going to tell her a secret.

Never go walking in the woods on a full moon.

“The trees- they speak. Got ears I’m telling ya,” The woman’s voice rasped at her hushed tone. “Will o’ wisps are sweet talkers, I’m telling ya!”

Y/n bit her lip in efforts to keep a building laugh in. The stranger didn’t look at all drunk, she was in complete control of her facial features, and her voice was funky because y/n wasn’t used to the accent. If it hadn’t been for the tell-tale empty glasses she kept generating, one wouldn’t even be able to tell.

Finally deciding to propel the conversation further, she said, “Is that so?”

“Swear on the Fae King himself, I do! Told me to find the mushrooms for a good time, coz I was out for a piss half mad with moonshine. Knew what they were doin, they did. I thought they meant those that make ya loopy, shite don’t even know what made me listen to them.” She grumbles the last part to herself, her chin tilting down to touch her chest as she frowns.

“What happened next?” Y/n asked, propping her chin on the flat of her palm.

The woman looked up, startled like she’d forgotten there was someone there. “Next? Next…. Next, oh yes!” Crossing her legs, she angled her body sideways to y/n. “Will o’ wisps said to walk the opposite way a clock does around the circle of mushrooms and I did! I did! And, and it got me to the fairy realm. ‘Course I didn’t know until after the king himself told me. But this... this circle of sky opened up-- like,” her head tilts to the side as she thinks of ways to form her thoughts into words. “Like the sky fell and was standing before me. Go through it and find eternal happiness, they told me.”

Walk the opposite way a clock does around the circle of mushrooms. Go through it and find eternal happiness.

As soon as those words left the Scottish woman’s lips, y/n was hooked. A part of herself that had slowly been locked away throughout her pitiful, self-depreciating life, and, that part of her came to life-- it bloomed awake, triggered by the words eternal happiness. An earth-shattering revival.If this woman wasn’t spitting shit, then… this was her chance.

“It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Her voice went soft and hazy, recalling the images of a far away land. “It was green… everywhere. And the flowers were alive.” She snaps back into a more solid tone, “They fairies were too-faced little bitches, though.”

Y/n nodded, noting and agreeing. “Tell me more.”

Needing to further probing, the tales continued. “They tried to get me to eat, to dance. And I nearly did, you know? I would have, had it not been for the king… I’d be dead.” The bartender slid a glass their way, a manicured hand reaching to catch it without turning to look at it. “He saved me from them. He apologized for his subjects actions, even housed me for the night, and escorted me out the next day. Mentioned something about…” Her head cocked, eyes squinting. “A star telling him not to wipe fairy dust against my forehead to make me think it was just a dream.”

Someone in the distance dropped a glass, and a shattering noise was heard; reduced to a meager tinkle. The bartender whipped his towel in anger, and went to see what the fuss was about.

“He was truly… well I can’t even explain it. You’d have to see it with y’own eyes.”

Y/n tapped her forefinger on the plushy center of her lips three times before saying, “And, what exactly do I have to do to see it with my own eyes?”

The question simmered in unknown waters while the woman registered what y/n had asked. It was clear; the transition of her eyes going from unfocused and dazed to serious.

“Why, lass, would you want to find those piece of shites?” Her head bobbled. “After I just-”

“I just wanted to hear you tell the story, that’s all.” Y/n shot to respond, set on getting the stranger to tell her how to get to the fairy realm. Every atom in her buzzed with friction against each other, excited, elated to have what basically a reason to life again. What Wonderland was to Alice, this was to her.

A rabbit hole.

“Legend goes that if a pure-hearted being leaves offerings for the Fae, the Fae may respond. This is why lil’ tikes always talk about, having dem-- imaginary friends. They’re fairies-- they friend, that is. Fae people show themselves to children because they’re pure. Maidens before their wedding night, if desolate, go missing in the woods because the fairies take them. As for me? They wanted to take advantage of me. It’s process; fickle people they are.” A hand waves in the air, brushing away intrusive thoughts. Y/n leaned further into the woman, lips pursed in interest. “Anyways, my mother, her mother and her mother’s mother, have all had encounters with them after long periods of offerings of home-made foods, and planting flowers in the woods. Slowly, over-time, they gather the courage to show themselves. But, what happened to me was the Summoning of the Full-Moon. And- HEY! ‘Nother one please.” She repeats the same motion from before, sliding back the empty glass.

“What is the Summoning of the Full-Moon?” Tapping her fingers to attract her attention again, y/n’s eyes follow the woman’s desperately.

“Right, right. Fleet aren’t you?” She chuckled. “The Summoning of the Full-Moon happens when the moon is full, and you drink a glass of moonwater from the past full moon. To get the moon water, just leave out a pitcher of water in clear view of the moon when it’s full, that way, when the next full one comes around, you drink a glass. The moon charges the water with it’s energy, and it’ll give ya’ the ability to see will’o wisps.”

The bartender slid another glass, and the woman took a swig before continuing. “Will ‘o wisps are spirits that appear as floating blue flames of fire, usually three atta time at first; one disheartening and appearing behind the last as you move closer to them. They guide travelers, y’see? They lead you to what your heart wants the most-- or wherever destiny takes you-- depends on which one is mighty. It all takes off from there.” At her last words, the small glass listed, and slammed back down empty.

Y/n nodded slowly, absorbing the information that was unloaded on her. Moon water. Will o’ wips. But,

“What happens next?”

“It’s up to Destiny and wherever She wants ta take ya, lass.” The woman winked, her long, curled lashes fluttering closed momentarily. “Of course, that is if we’re talking about a hypothetical situation, isn’t it?”

Y/n was about to give a flustered response, when a man decked out in a black and white suit, with shades, an earpiece and slicked-back dark hair, tapped the woman on the shoulder and leaned in to whisper something in her ear. The woman lifted a hand and dropped her eyes to the floor, directing some but not all attention to the man. An abrupt change in her voice sends shivers down y/n’s spine; the friendly rasp converting into a chilling, demanding scorn. “Tell Alex he’ll lose 30k from his next check if he doesn’t fix this in an hour. I’ll be out as soon as I wrap up the lovely conversation I’m having with this lassie.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The man says, nodding and walking the way he came.

Lifting her eyes from their casted gaze, the woman locks with y/n’s curious, seeking eyes, and sees. She understands now. The questioning. The peaking glint of interest.

It makes sense.

“Play your cards right, child.” The woman sighed, her voice suddenly ages older than she seemed. “Play them right, and you’ll find eternal happiness… but, make one wrong move and you’ll screw yourself over forever.”

Then she got up and left. Feet landing one after the other with a firm stance, and a swagger in her walk that hadn’t been there before.

Strange, y/n thought. How quick her demeanor went from drunk to composed. After that fleeting thought came a tsunami of questions. What was she doing in the woods? What woods? What dis the woman take with her?

But it was too late because the was far gone, and she was left to sit and ponder the countless outcomes that could come if she were to go through with this. For one, eternal happiness. It’s natural for anyone to try and seek it. Who wouldn’t? Especially y/n, who’d been deprived of dopamine for... well, forever. Her childhood was about as good as her current life. Parents who yelled at each other, and at her, leaving her only company to be the stray cats that would lick the tears off of her cheeks; raspy tongues eliciting giggles from the small girl. It was a treasure, what she had found.

She would be stupid if she didn’t at least try.

* * *

* **

Y/n left her measly apartment on a day where the clouds looked like objects you could pluck from the sky; fluffy, white cotton shapes that overlapped and left small sifts of space where the sun shone through in beams. All was shadowed with soft colors; rough edges turned tender, perfectly appropriate for the way the giddy girl felt inside. Floaty, heady, and delicate with a skip in her step. Aloof with happiness and a tickle in her rib. She no longer cared about anything. The latter was true. She didn’t even tell her landlord she was leaving, or anyone else for that matter. Everything that belonged to her and truly significant, was inside a wicker basket she tucked in the crease of her elbow. Food, and a blanket because she wasn’t sure how long she’d be waiting for the Fae to respond.

The Fae.

After extensive research at her local public library, y/n realized how… complex these creatures were. It was no joke was she was getting into, and the Scottish woman has been right. Make one wrong move, and it was over. The ethereal beings had the power to make the rest of her life living hell if she messed up before eating their food.

Eating their food,

was all she had to do

to stay.

Bound by whatever magic they possessed, she wouldn’t be able to leave the Fae realm if-- when-- she bit into something from their world. Like giving your soul to the devil, but instead it was faeries who pranced in delight, not flames. This promise, this reward had restored something in y/n that hadn’t been there in years. Child-like glee, innocence, purity. Call it what you want. But it was there; a fresh sprite in her soul. Restoration of a youthful essence.

But it was there, and it was back twice as strong as when it previously existed in her. Ignited by the words she drank from her computer screen; early morning rises to the library, and late night walks home after closing time fueled her through two months. The first, she dedicated to attaining a jar of moon-charged water.

There was a mason jar in her cabinet that she used to eat blueberries and milk in, which was the only portable-type cup she had. The night before a full moon, she filled it with tap water, and set it on her window sill. For the first three hours into the dark, y/n watched the moonlight dance in the water like the aurora borealis. Her eyes would focus and unfocus with possibilities of her future; the possibilities of her eternal future extending from the tips of her toes like the yellow brick road. Images of dewy meadows and heart-shaped ponds full of lilies flooded her mind. Willow trees and flowers to make flower crowns and tea out of. She wanted it. Wanted to live among the Fae, and wander aimlessly with beauty and prose.

She yearned for it.

Y/n woke the next day with a jar of... water. It didn’t look any different then from when she poured it into the cup, other than the fact that the glass was dewy from the cold of the night. Her fingerprints decorated the sides where she gripped it, and after bringing it up to her eyes for closer inspection, she set it on her pillow, and left for the library.

Her seek of Fae knowledge continued, with more vigor now that she’d acquired the water. Everyday consisted of books, online pages, audiobooks; anything she found she ate up like she was starving for it.

And in some ways, she was.

Swallowing more that could fit in her mouth, y/n came to learn that the Fae weren’t exactly the comforting go-lucky deities she’d come to perceive them as. Beautiful, sure, but not all of them. And certainly not sweet.

Anything, but sweet. Y/n found that faeries were actually formidable creatures that enjoyed watching trouble develop. Legend has it, that the Fae were those caught in the in-between land at the time God shut the gates of heaven, and Lucifer trapped demons in hell. They could be angels or demons; fallen angels, outcasts, forgotten on the human plane. Belief in angelic behavior is reported, but lesser than the haunting actions, or bewitching incidents. It was a blind treasure hunt, the one she was getting herself into.

However, it she wouldn’t let that stop her. In some ways, she felt entitled to an explanation, a slice of truth; and answer. It would be an act of sadism to derive her of euphoria after she’d lived so, so shitty. She owes it to herself to seek them out.

Even if they could haunt her forever, take her first born, and or make her dance until her feet were reduced to stubs, she needed to look. Anything would be better than her reality.

Her adventure started with the seek of Rowan trees, sacred trees commonly associated with the Seelie court, the lesser malicious group of fairies. If... her expectations are even a fraction real, then she’s set. Good to go. Safe.

Or at least, once she found them she would be safe. The woods before sunset were enchanting, with golden tones littering the leaves and bark with glittering light. Pieces of peach-colored sky peeking through the empty spaces in the tree canopy, shadows dancing on her skin with every giddy step she took. She wasn’t quite sure where she was going, only that she was looking for the Rowan trees, and the increasing amount of flowers was a good sign (according to the internet). It had been about an hour since she went off the set trail, the ground growing more unleveled with each step. Squirrels and rabbit would scurry across her way every time a branch cracked underneath her feet, and since her eyes were set on the shrubby part of the trees-- looking for the tell-tale red berries of the trees she was looking for-- the furry animals skittered more often than nought.

Slowly, the sun snuggled deep in the horizon, and the remaining light shifted to created harshly shadowed edges on the trees. This prompted y/n to panic, her searching eyes growing faster in their movements. No, no, no, it couldn’t be dark yet. She hadn’t found the trees yet. It would be dark with....

With no light to light her way.

Light. Small flames of blue light, was what the Scottish woman said the Will ‘o wisps were. And to see them, all she had to do is drink the moon water.

The moon water that was in her wicker basket.

With the last of the sun floating away, y/n hurried to flip open the top of her basket, deft fingers dipping in to wrap around the cool mason jar. She screwed it open, lifting it to her lips and taking two generous mouthfuls of the water. She needed to sip at it cautiously, because the offering acceptance took time, and she’d need more than one night to work this out.

To find her way back to whatever spot the spirits took her, she’d need the water. There would be no waiting at the gates of the realm, given that the faeries were suspicious creatures, and it would take time for them to judge and be comfortable around her; deem her a pure maiden at heart. Hovering in the area where she placed her gift would jeopardize any chance at them accepting, or even considering her entrance into the realm

She would have to be patient. And she would be.

Y/n was full of buzzing energy and she let her eyes adjust to the growing darkness. The sun had gone down completely. The trees reduced to smeared shadows and mysterious shapes. Her skin was victim to a crisper kind of air- the cold having a sharper edge to it in the absence of sun. The moon shone brightly, she could see it through the same spaces where the sun had shown through; a milky-white face in the sky, frozen mid-yawn, and though her light was strong, it wasn’t enough to penetrate through the wood’s thick roof of leaves.

The path space that formed in the gaps of the trees, was cloaked in a pitch blanket, general figures of branches and trees ghosting in her squinted line of vision. Shivering, she shrugged the quilt she carried onto her shoulders, and it was when huddled into herself when she heard the first whisper.

We hear you.

It was one voice; one whisper. And hundreds resonating behind it. A small, shy, wispy call out to her, sounding as if it were right at the lobe of her ear.

Y/n is startled, and she jumps, clutching her fists tighter towards her chest, the basket digging into her hip and chafing on the skin in the crook of her elbow, but she doesn’t pay any mind to it because holy shit it’s happening.

Often reported, the wisps whisper or make high pitched whirring noises to catch the attention of the traveler. This was it. What she was hearing, was the calling. The will o’ wisps.

Her head whipped wildly from side to side, searching for the hovering blue and it’s incandescence. Eyes wide with seeking fervor, lips parted as puffs of air left her lips when her chest came down, y/n felt a rush of adrenaline course through her spine.

“Who can hear me?”

Suddenly, a flashing burst of electric blue color appeared in the distance, about 10 steps away from her current position. She gasped at the sudden outbreak, her eyes stretching to their maximum diameter. All the inklings of doubt that had seeded themselves in her break uprooted and flew in the wind; gone. Real. It was all real.

And she was doing it. She was helping herself. Providing to her soul what she couldn’t for years: happiness. The mere appearance of these spheres entities sent a buzz of ecstasy to the center of her core because they were real and she was really doing this.

I can

Three chants of ‘I can’ tinkled, one after the other, appearing with every she took towards the spirit. Her knees shook slightly, goosebumps prickling on her knees with every movement. Eerily, branches crack underneath the soles of her shoes, and she can feel the dispersion of energy against her feet when the wood cracks. With the lack of sun, and how she’s so hypnotized by the will o’ wisps, she doesn’t see the thick hump of tree root sticking out from the ground, the tip of her shoe catching on it and causing her to fall fly forward and dig her nose in the dirt. The basket gets crushed between the dirt and her hip, the abrupt and uncontrolled pressure eliciting a pained yelp from her. Her hand comes out stiffly from underneath the blanket, rushing to push herself back up and relieve the intrusion. As she’s hissing, the dreamy, other-worldly whispers say,

Oh no

Are you okay?

Are you still able,

To come and play?

Smaller, quieter, different toned whispers echo each murmuring, creating a dizzying, mind-spinning effect. To a certain extent, it disoriented her. But the tender, cooing voices smoothed over her unease and comforter her. Encouraged her, even.

Huffing, y/n dragged her dungaree covered knees underneath her, and sat kneeled for a moment.

“Yes, I’m fine.” She panted, the experience amazing her. “Who are you?”

She stood again, feeling her dented basket with her other hand while she waited for a response.

We are messengers of Destiny

We will take you

To what your heart wants most

Be quick, Your Majesty

They won’t way forever

Your Majesty? Now why on earth would they call her that? Befounded, she walked with cautious steps towards the first spirit, and tried to caress it with her fingertips. She wanted to feel it, hold it. But alas, as soon as her hand got close, it disappeared as quickly as it came, and reappeared behind the other two that were in line. The trio produced a bio-luminescent radiance that would surely stump any scientist who tried to explain the logic behind it. There simply was no other reasoning to the phenomenon, other than it was magic.

She knew that. Could feel the altered tensions in the proximity of the will ‘o wisps, calmer and still where they were. Beats of her heart pounded where her tongue lay, dry, in her mouth. She wasn’t royalty.

“Why are you calling me that? Why… why are you calling me your majesty?” Y/n stared intently to the very core of the wisps, noticing the change of color at the center. White flickers of tiny bodily shapes, like the spirits were dancing idly in their own capsule of light.

Destiny calls you so

Destiny yearns for you

You’re almost there

Be quick, Your Majesty

She didn’t understand. Your Majesty, was a title reserved for royals wasn’t it? She was not one. In the midst of her confused and amazed state, a lineage of wisps appeared behind the third one, creating a long path that went straight and then made an abrupt turn left. Enchanted, she followed in a zombie-like state. This was real and it was happening. It was real because her nose was bitten-raw from the cold and her nails pinched into the skin of her palm. Pain didn’t exist in dreams, and her hip still ached where the basket has pressed against it.

This wasn’t a dream.

Will ‘o the wisps flickered in their formation, bursting away when she came into proximity. The exhilarating thrill of attempting to catch; chasing, is what caused her to let out a squeaky giggle that eventually grew into harmonious laughter. Light, gleeful chortles bounced between the trees, and if anyone were to hear here from a distance they’d surely think the woods were haunted.

Eventually, she reached the turn, and was set onto a winding, twisting road of curving blue light. Y/n was light on her feet, raising them high and setting firmly on the ground. She began to run.

She ran and ran until her throat went dry, her lungs burned, and her thighs ached; body begging for a break, heart high on the drug of hope. Every slight twist in the wood only motivated her further, coaxing her towards her end target of… wherever the wisps were taking her. She was so submerged in the task of following that she was quite surprised when she arrived at a clearing; a circular space where the trees curved around, almost respectfully. The wisps made a beeline towards the middle, where they made the same pattern the trees did, forming a circle around a ring of mushrooms.

It was almost comical, the way the red-topped, white-dotted mushroom were arranged in a circle big enough to lay, sprawled, in the middle.

You’ve made it

You’re here

Destiny wishes you luck

Stay strong, Your Majesty

And then, they dissipated; flip of a switch and the lights were off.

For two days, she waited. The first night, she layed her homemade thumbprint cookies and honey in the center of the ring, leaving a sweet kiss on the wooden plate, and walked aimlessly until the balls of her feet ached. It wasn’t that far, because she had already done so much walking, and the girl was drained from the events she’d witnessed. Y/n settled in an alcove of tree roots, wrapping herself snug with her quilt but shivering despite her efforts. Her stomach rumbled with hunger, but she waited until the morning, wanting to make the food she brought last as long as possible.

She woke with the faint images of golden petals floating around her, faeries dusting shimmering substances on the top of her head, and a demanding grumble in her stomach. The dirt underneath her hand was soft, dipping in where her the pad of her fingers dug in to push herself up. Instantly, she was met with the feeling of something wet striping up her cheek, a sniffing like noise filtering through her ears.

Blinking, y/n groggily turns her hear, and comes face to face with... a pig. It snorts when it see her move, sitting back on it’s haunches and looking up at her with bunched cheeks so it looked like it was smiling. Y/n’s jaw dropped in shock. Where had this pig come from?

It’s pink skin was a cool contrast in the light of the late-morning sun (y/n was never much of an early riser), and upon closer inspection, she saw the pig was a he. His nose was twitching with interest at the stranger he’s encountered. Ears floppy, bent and jiggling with every call squeal he exhibited, hooves half dug into the dirt. He watched patiently, inspecting and almost waiting for orders.

“Where’d you come from?” She asked, intrigued at his presence. They both shared a small moment of staring at each other in wonder until her stomach emitted a stale gurgle, pleading for food. The piglet (which he was, given his small stature and clean snout), squealed again, standing up with a jump and walking around in a circle three times, chasing after it’s curly tail before stilling, with his rump facing y/n. He began to walk backwards, continuing until his back legs came up on her lap, and he plopped himself down, tilting his head up with a pleasant smile, while y/n stared at the small creature, astounded.

“Make yourself at home, why don’t you?” She said with a light giggle, reaching with one hand for her basket, and the other to pet the small thing’s head. She might as well embrace him, so she had company.

The basket was right by her shoulders while she lay, meaning it was now behind her because she had sat up. Clutching the pig so he wouldn’t fall out of her lap while she moved, she twisted her upper body to grab the basket, and the pig adjusted himself, pressing his two front feet onto her lep repeatedly. Making shushing noises, she flipped open the wicker flap, and reached in to grab whatever she found.

A sleeve of ritz crackers, that she ripped open eagerly, popping the first cookie into her mouth. Chewing, she looked around for the first time that day.

She was surrounded by much, much bigger trees than the ones she was venturing in the day before. Tall, brooding giants; rows and rows of trunks thicker than her wingspan and arching branches casting shadows on those who walked underneath. Might and wise, but silent and still. And intimidating network of roots on the ground mirrored the intertwining leaves above her, so high up she had to throw her head all the way back to see the expanse.

Breathtaking, is what it was. Y/n hadn’t been this connected with nature since that field trip she took with her third grade class to the blooming tulip meadows. She appreciated their presence, basked in the beams of light that shone through and grazed over the grass and moss on the trees. She even stopped eating, transfixed by the image before her, and she would have continued pondering in the glorious, godly image of greens and brown had the pig in her lap not shifted to sniff at her hand.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, glancing down at his curious tilted head. “Want some crackers, too?” Y/n wriggles her fingers into the brown packaging and took out two cookies, setting one on her tongue and extending the other towards the pig. He sniffs at it, his snout twitching, before cocking his head and picking it up with the side of his mouth. The pig gets close to her, placing the flat underside of his chin in the groove of her neck, snorting appreciatively.

“You’re a cute one,” she hums more to herself, tracing the pads of her fingers on the piggy’s back.

They fall asleep like that again, after y/n had finished the sleeve of crackers. The girl so calmed by the image presented in front of her, she slipped into a light slumber, the breeze and waving sheets of leaves lulling her eyes closed.

She spent the day like that, rationing her food, and sleeping, the pig switching positions from her lap, to her side, and eventually by her feet. The thick quilt she had brought stayed on her shoulders at all times, keeping her warm in the crispy forest air.

Nearing the sunset again, a butterfly landed on the tip of her nose, stretching its wings and tickling her awake. Her eyes fluttered opened when everything around her was lit a golden haze; the tell-tale sign that the sunset was near, and so was the night. The blue butterfly flew away when she took the first breath, and she watched it fly away with hazy eyes, not fully awake and aware yet.

Y/n jumped when the piglet let out a squeal, and upon looking down, she saw that he had remained settled into her side while she slept.

With a smile on her lips as she placed her hands on her back to stretch, she said, “Well, hello there!” She patted his head, and he leaned into her touch. “You stayed!”

The pig smiled, which sounds ridiculous but his lips really turned upwards, filling his eyes with a glint, and squealed his response. Y/n’s heart warmed at the sweet animal, happy that she had company and wasn’t alone. Her friends, she realized, had always been furry. Animals were the only beings that were ever welcoming of her, treasured her presence, and reciprocated the love she had to offer.

“Will you stay through the night as well?” The girl remarked, scratching behind the piglet’s ears. “I sure hope so.” A sad look took over her face, the corners of her lips pinching downwards as a sudden wave of forlorn thoughts washed over her.

She was sitting in the forest, all by herself, following after a drunk woman’s rants because that it what her dissatisfaction led her to. That’s how much she lacked. That’s how much she yearned for. It goes to show the large chunk that was missing, because she had no second thoughts about doing so. It hurt, knowing no one would worry about her, and that she had nothing to regret leaving.

As if sensing her unease, the pig started bucking up into her hand, his snout blowing onto her palm and tickling her skin. The action made her laugh, her first genuine, comfortable laugh at an act of humor. A deep, belly chuckle that made her cheeks hurt.

She had learned to laugh again.

Y/n got up from her spot on the forest floor, and stretched with her arms reaching towards the canopy, fingers splaying and tightening the skin between them. Taking a deep breath, the corner of her lip quirked up in her smile.

Night two was underway and she was ready.

With her furry companion, the girl picked her basket up and began her walk in the general direction of her arrival. It was hard to tell, because it was pitch black when she made it to her spot, but either way she walked far enough that she would need guidance from the wisps to get back on the correct track.

The sun repeated the same routine it had the day before, splashing an assortment of colors on tree bark and leaves, streaking the sky wild orange taints and soft blues to contrast. It was ethereal image, the one she was witnessing. Like something out of a documentary, except she was there, seeing it with her own eyes.

Her neck was starting to hurt with how much she craned it to see the mesh of vibrancy in the sky, and the piglet alongside her had often bumped it’s small snout on her ankle when she stopped moving to gaze. When night finally came, the moon was a partly eaten up by shadow, her color less vibrant that the day before. But it was fine, because according to research, what mattered most was the first offering on the full moon.

Repeating the same steps from last night, y/n took another drink from her glass, and blinked three times exactly, waiting for the wisps to formulate in front of her.

And they did.

But there was something different about it this time. They were quiet, a change from their past fizz of whisper. Confused, y/n tilted her head and tried to speak to the.

“Hello?”

Silence. Not even the whistling sound of their breaths. The wind had stopped, and as the line of blue orbs created a twisting route between the trees, the hairs on y/n’s spine stood on end. The air was charged with... a certain potential that was impossible to miss. A certain static of promise.

Tonight was the night.

As she walked towards the wisps, her footsteps were accompanied by the soft pitters of her tiny friend, stuck by her feet still, despite everything happening around them. Could he see them too? Was her cold? He probably was. If y/n was cold, then he was too. Deciding to not only warm herself up, she took out her blanket and bent down to pick him up, cradling him against her chest and wrapping the blanket around him as well, to which he responded with a cuddle into her neck.

With purpose in her step, the hopeful girl began her journey, following the marked up path left by the wisps. It was, as expected, longer than the first. She had ensured that she was far enough away before settling down for the night.

Nevertheless, she made it to the blue luminescent ring of red-topped mushroom (like the ones from Mario), and stared.

It was apparent, that she had no clue what to do next.

“Now what? Tell me what to do?”

The last wisp, placed in the center of the ring, spoke for all the spirits the first time since they appeared that night.

Destiny had spoken once, She will not speak again.

The knowledge you need to open the realm,

is one you already know.

Furrowing her eyebrows, y/n took a moment to digest the message.

She knew? She knew how to open the gate? The extent of her research only described protocol on fairy manners, what they were like, and what to do in the case of an encounter. Never explicitly the steps to open the realm to meet them. Yet, the wisps said otherwise. They claimed she knew the ways to open the realm.

How could that be true…

OH. The Scottish woman! The Scottish woman had told her exactly what to do. Walk counter-clockwise around the circle of mushrooms.

And that was it.

All she had to do.

Y/n was in the middle of contemplating if she should do it or not, given she had only presented one offering, when she saw the note.

In the middle of the ring, lay a fist sized scroll that was only visible because the last wisp hovered above it. The pig next to her glanced from her to the script, and skipped over to clutch the script with his mouth, and trotted over to give it to her.

The wisps didn’t disappear when the pig approached it, but it raised higher above the ground, above her head and just past that; blue light glowing just a bit brighter.

The girl bent to get the note from the piglet, and gave it a small pat on the head before unrolling the thick paper. It had a very quality feel to it, grooves tickling her finger-pads. The slip, not much better than her hand, read,

the pie was delicious. we are most appreciative of it. proceed.

The black inked scripture widened her eyes, sending a shiver up her spine.

Well, that settled her question. She could, proceed.

And she did. Y/n placed the note in her basket, and picked up her small friend, needing the emotional support. Her lungs expanded in a burning breath, bracing herself for what was to come. No turning back now.

She angled herself so her feet were parallel to the mushroom she was near, and began to walk. Please let me in, please please please let me in. I need this, please. She begged mentally. The girl wasn’t sure what would happen if this went wrong. Her hopes were high, and the crash would be devastating.She begged to whoever would listen; whoever was in charge. Please let me in.

Nothing happened, until she passed her third mushroom.

The remaining will o’ wisp began to expand, it’s light turning a lighter blue color, bubbling out and expanding into a concrete oval, growing in size as she made her way around the ring. The pig in her arms was quiet, not affected by what was going on like he saw it happen everyday, but y/n, on the other hand, was having her mind blown. Her lips were parted as soft breaths came out of them, scared to breathe to her full capacity, watching as the color of light went from blue to yellow. The two colors merging in a gradient shift, the orb growing bigger and larger as water expands when spilled on a flat surface.

Fleeting shadows danced through the portal, like the reflection of birds flying over a lake’s surface.

Y/n picked up the pace on her last round, and a breeze began to blow out her hair. the light from the now door-sized hole turned a golden color; a glittering, metallic shade of yellow that swirled in a spiral at the speed of her steps, dizzying her. The far-away sounds of a child’s giggled resonated through the forest, coming from the golden circle in the ring.

When she stopped at her starting mark at the end of the third rotation, the portal rose higher, higher, higher, and then floated down like a swaying feather in the air, the golden beams of light now shooting skyward.

It came to lay on the grass covered floor, flattening in the area inside the circle of the mushrooms, the gold-lined edge nearly touching the tip of her show.

The front of her face was covered in the golden light, her eyes gleaming in the colored glow. Laughter sounded from it, the sound of music teasingly escaping, low enough that she could hear it over the lapping water noises from the portal.

The pig, still in her arms, began to thrash and squirm, squealing wildly until y/n finally let him go, and he didn’t hesitate to jump in the pool of gold.

“Wait, wait no, n-,” y/n protested, but his curly tail was gone before her hand even attempted to catch him.

After his leap, the portal rippled, and cleared into a calm mustard yellow splashed with... clouds? It was a piece of sky that fell to the ground, just like to woman had said. Without thinking twice about it, she jumped through, just like her friend had done.

Her body was instantly met with a chilling wind, as if she wasn’t wearing any clothes. It was a disorienting feeling of shooting up, and coming back down like she was falling, landing in the same spot where the portal had been, except now it was closed. Her butt ached where is received most of the impact, and y/n groaned as she pushed herself back up, the budging feeling of her basket restricting her arm movement present, but… the weight of her clothing was gone.

And, when she glanced down at her body, it was confirmed that she was bare.

As in, no clothes, no underwear, no bra or panties.

Y/n shrieked.

Who, when, and how had her clothes come off if she hadn’t taken them off herself? She ignored the fact that she was in the fairy realm to cover herself with her hands, glancing up to see who may have seen her, only to view a landscape unlike any other.

Rolling hills, seemingly endless with giant trees on top of each one, bigger than the ones she had slept alongside, with flower-filled valleys and and a crystalline river that cut a path through a hill and disappeared into an arch of trees. Children with elvish features stared up at her from the nearest valley, blue flowers littered in their hair to match the pink color tinted in their cherub cheeks. Brown ad white rabbits alike roamed around her, does grazed in the meadows. The sun was nestled in the horizon, just barely peeking in the dip of two hills, sky the same glittering golden color the portal had been. Everything was untouched by technology. No building or antenna towers, but homes in tree trunks or underneath giant mushrooms.

The faeries were staring at her. All with features a human would posses, but a certain other-worldy-ness regular people didn’t posses.

They were all beautiful, with full lips and striking eye colors to match their leafy outfits pertaining to their niche. Two of them ran up the hill on which she sat, edgy grins on their lips as they approached her with their hands behind their backs. One was dressed in the fluffy feathers of a peacock, black hair slicked back and tucked behind his ears, curving up at the nape of his neck. The feathers draped over his shoulders and fanned around his arms, ending just at the end of his wrists so the his hands showed; talons in the place of nails. His lips were beak like, the cupids bow dragging over his bottom lip to imitate a bid’s curved mouth. The other man standing next to his was dressed just the same, except that he had no hair and his ears curved like a ram’s above his head.

Suddenly, her pig friend jumped onto her lap, and began the same squealing as before. Urgent and forbidding, pressing his rump back into her, but leaning forwards as if to ward them off.

“You again, Angus?” The one with the ram horns said, quirking his eyebrow into a perfect arch at the same time his tilted in that direction, giving him a graceful yet mechanical look. Intimidating and cold. His voice was equal to the ear-splitting sound of a fork against plate.

The other one spoke. “How’d you get away from Harry this time, you littl-”

“Pias and Rye? You best stop right there!” Another voice spoke, making y/n twist her heard towards where a crowd had formed in the nearest valley. Mostly creatures with childish features, holding fruits of bunches of petals to their bare chests.

There was a woman, with curly red hair and striking blue eyes. Droplets of water seeped from her skin, collecting at the dress she was wearing, which looked like rippling bodies of water floating above her skin, the placed surrounding her most intimate areas a darker color of water, whereas everything else was translucent. A blob of liquid floated near her head; a crystalline globe of water that contained a golden koi fish that moved on its own around it’s companion, swirling around her unruly red coils of hair.

“Well if it isn’t-”

“I’d shut it, if I were you. Just wait until he hears that you weren’t going to follow protocol. Now, leave.” At her emphasis, her grey eyes flashed bright white momentarily, scaring even y/n, but fulfilling their purposes in warding off the other two fairies. They turned around and left with their prides damaged, turning back to look every other step.

The woman turned to look at y/n, her face transformed into a welcoming smile.

“Hello, my name is Marianne, Welcome to the Fae realm.”

* * *

* **

Marianne took y/n to the river, opposite the way the two other faeries left, and clapped her hands to snap everyone's’ gazes away, while y/n listened to every command with no hesitation.

One their way to the river, y/n was covered in monarch butterflies that flew from a nearby bush, arranging themselves like a skirt on her hips, their wings twitching and fluttering with every step she took. Her top half was taken care of by her pig friend, whom she learned was called Angus, which she clutched to her chest like when they walked around the mushrooms.

Marianne apologized for the other faeries’ behavior, and led her into a giant water lily, holding her hand as she stepped in. The large green leaf coasted down the river, giving y/n a proper sight-seeing experience. They passed by tree roots that elevated above the water’s surface, and passed through the center of a hill like a tunnel. The golden skies seemed to place a filter on everything it touched, making it look like the water held diamonds, and the dew on other floating lilies were pearls. Leafy branched from willow trees on the river bank reached out to touch the newcomer, caressing y/n’s bare shoulder’s as she passed. She watched it all happen with parted lips, intoxicated by the luxurious feeling of magic pouring over her; skin coated in remnants of glittering water from the tips of the tree leaves that dipped in water.

So fixed on the trees and their giant glory, y/n didn’t see the stone castle coming into view from behind the passing green hill; the river turning into the castle’s moat, floating alongside the uneven stone walls patterned different colors from time, sun, and water, but magnificent in it’s ancient glory.

The girl noticed Marianne staring at her, and in her embarrassment, she turned around to attempt to compose herself, but her efforts were thrown away when her eyes found the castle. Romantic, rustic walls covered in curtains of ivy that grew all around. Blinking, y/n gasped as the lily pad came to a stop right before the entrance of the tunnel underneath the bridge, and rose to meet it. She glanced down to see they were off the river’s surface, level with the top of the stone arch. Marianne stepped off, her bare feet stable on the path and she extended a hand for y/n to grab onto.

Stunned, she took hold of the woman’s wet grip, and followed after her, throwing her head back to view the entirety of the castle. Windows with no glass carved rows into the walls, allowing sun to stream in to the rooms and halls. The drawbridge lowered for the two guests, dropping with a loud rustling of chain.

Walking across is at, goosebumps possessed her skin, and she felt the shameful, poking sensation of being exposed settle in her breastbone. Castles meant kings and queens; she was being brought to the king and she was practically naked.

Her chest rose, and her stomach filled filled nervous breaths. Her pals became moist against Angus’s furry one, who seemed calm and sated with the whole ordeal.

Once across the drawbridge, they were met with an open courtyard framed by the castle walls, a cobblestone path leading to an arched entrance, where Marianne followed The courtyard was full of wild grass up to her ankles, stone arches in the middle of the scene, with rope swings and flowers hanging down, ominously still. A bench centered in an arrangement of statues of men in heroic poses holding harps and arrows, a floating body of water in the place of a fountain. Much, much more attracted the girls curious eyes, but Marianne pushed past a curtain of foxgloves, and led her into the castle hall and her view was cut off, dragged into... the throne room.

The throne room clearly because in the center of the sun-lit room, there was a throne covered with wild flowers where the king sat, legs spread and back against the seat as he listened a subject speak.

He wore a red ensemble, by-far the most magnificent of anyone in the room. Transparent garments the color of cranberries draped on the broad expanse of his olive-skinned shoulders, waves of the material hanging loosely on his hard biceps, a tassel tied around his waist to taper an accentuate the strong muscles seen through the garment. The cloth bunched at his groin, and fell in folds around his muscular thighs and down his calves, stopping at his ankles and exposing his bare feet.

His fingers tapped rhythmically on the arm of his throne, each finger falling after the other, adding to the powerful aura of his character. Plump lips colored that matched the tone of the nipples that poked through the thin fabric on his chest, mouth arranged into a hard, concentrated line as he listened. Eyebrows dipped just slightly, drawing attention to the vibrant emerald eyes that gleamed in the sun that illuminated his castle. Structured jaw that twitched with the movement of his lips, leading down to the delicate skin of his neck, equally delectable as the rest of him.

Y/n knew he was the king by the tell tale crown that rested on his head. A golden wrap of laurel leaves that nestled on the caramel curls that were pushed back and away from his face.

She wasn’t aware that she was holding her breath, until he glanced up and locked eyes with her. His eyes brought instant relief to her, her body uncoiling, lungs releasing the air their were holding. His lips pulled up into a pleasant smile that made her heart leap and causing one to appear on her face, too. Oddly, she felt safe the instant her eyes landed his, the green sating all of her doubts.

“Marianne? And Angus? Angus is that you?”

Angus jumped from y/n’s arms, landing on the stone floor with a snort and running over to meet the king, jumping into his arms and nuzzling his snout into the king’s face.

The absence of the pig in her arms, left her breasts bare for all to see, and given y/n was transfixed by the king’s voice, smooth like honey with a beautiful scratch that was pleasing to listen to, she didn’t rush to cover herself.

Meaning the king, and the subject he was speaking to, had the time to look at the curves of her chest.

An unreadable look took over the king’s face, and he frowned down at the floor before saying, “You may leave now, Rives.”

The subject cleared his throat, and rushed out at his king’s command. He snapped his fingers, and two of the butterflies on her legs flew up and covered her nipples with their wingspan.

“Your Majesty,” Marianne bowed, and y/n looked over at her before doing the same thing, awkwardly curtsying and the king’s lips quirked at her attempt. “I found her with Pias and Rye. They planned to trick her, Your Highness.”

“Very well, Marianne. You may leave now.” He said. The woman bowed and left without turning back, leaving y/n alone with the king.

A moment passed, ensuring the water fairy had left before he began to speak again, leaning forward on his throne and smiling fully at the human. Y/n instantly took note of the dimple on his cheek, and she blushed at the simple fact that he was looking at her while she was so exposed.

“Oh! My apologies, surely you’d like some clothes wouldn’t you?” He asked rhetorically.

Y/n nodded sheepishly, and crossed her arms over her torso.

“Right, well let’s see.” He stood, letting Angus on the floor with a small pat to his head, and walked off into another archway on the left side of his throne, mumbling “come, come” to get y/n to follow him. She walked behind him, shamelessly grazing her eyes over his back, adoring the way his muscles dimpled his shoulder blades, and hating the way she can’t see the cleft of his buttocks of the strategic bunching of the fabric, the color darkening and making it hard to see through it.

The archway led to a short hall of portraits and moss-covered head statues, before opening to a steep staircase, which the king stepped on, going all the way up and choosing the right branching of stairs from the landing. By the time they reached the top, y/n was huffing and her thighs ached from the walks in the forest.

The stairs opened to a hallway of rooms, and the king entered the third on the right, revealing a sun-lit room. The corner closest to the window was covered in tree tranches, twigs extending and branching along the pink colored wall, small leaves and flowers twisting up to the roof, splaying over the bed to create a net of petals around the fame of it.

He led her to the center of the room, and sat one of the chests. She stood nervously, unsure of where to take her place because she didn’t want to offend him. It was easy to do that with faeries.

“Stand right there,” he pointed to an elevated tree stump opposite of him.

Y/n felt the butterflies flutter wildly at the drastic movement of her knee hiking up, and her ears burned red when she felt cool air blow on her intimate area.

“Now turn to face me.” She turned, and came face to face with the king, who sat with his ankles crossed, and hands clamped between his thighs, back straight.

He removed a hand, and snapped once.

Instantly, the butterflies flew off of her body, and out the window.

Y/n yelped, and rushed to cover herself, forearm over her breasts, palm at her mound.

“M’lady I need you straight so I can adorn you with clothing. I’d have someone else do it, but it’s just me here.” The king said, voice a whisper. His eyes drooped, eyebrows slanting and softening his whole demeanor.

Y/n would have responded, said something to protect her modesty, but she was just too out of it. Her brain running on autopilot by the events that had occurred, that she went pliant under his orders and obeyed. She wasn’t even ashamed anymore.

The king’s fingers moved along her figure from a distance, twiddling across her body, and as he did so, a milky glitter grew upwards from the tree stump, wrapping around her calves and up her thighs, tightening just lightly at her hips, and resting snugly up her torso. Setting on her shoulders, she blinked slowly at the finished product, her tongue too tied to attempt a dreamy woah.

He had dressed her in a silk toga, the material so light it felt like she was wearing nothing.

“There we go!” He cheers, another small smile gracing his lips, melting y/n.

“I am most appreciative, Your majesty.” She bowed her head respectfully, her hands coming to fold at her navel.

“It is alright to say thank you. M’trying my absolute best to dilute a lot of the negative stigma around my people, but with fools like Pias and Rye it’s nearly impossible.” He stops, shaking his head to himself before looking back up and saying, “And you can call me, Harry.”

“Nice to meet you, Harry, my name is y/-” before she could finish her sentence, the Fairy King interrupted her with a green flare of his eyes, heat radiating off his translucent cranberry ensemble, licking her skin with warnings of heat.

“I don’t want to know your name.” He said, his voice changing from jovial to demonic. His eyes pinch closed, and his shoulders tense, momentarily reeling himself back in, and the licks of heat turn a soothing cool. “Please, not yet.”

Harry sounds nearly broken, pained by the restriction.

“I-” y/n started. She collected herself, taking a deep breath before saying, “I understand.”

His eyes opened again, and uncertain fire blazing in the green of his irises. “Do you? Do you really?” Harry’s tone is mocking, angry. He’s mad, but not at her and she knows that. Deep down inside her, she knows this is him baring himself, this is him slipping her a piece of information, and she’s grateful they get to start off an a truth slate, but not at the way he’s presented himself.

He’s got no right to talk to her that way, she feels.

“Yes! I do understand! It’s the reason why I’m here!” She fires back at him, her nostrils flaring, and eyes wide. By the time she’d finished with her aggravated statement, her chest is heaving.

Both go quiet, the revelation heavy between them. Harry realizes that one, he’s been extremely rude, and two, he and this girl may be more alike that he thinks.

“Why are you here?” He asks, his face doing the thing again, there his eyes droop downwards like a puppy’s when it’s begging. Soft. tender.

Y/n takes a deep breath, and begins. “I need to escape. If.. if I stayed even a moment longer I wholeheartedly believe I would have died. Everyday was a mindless drone, and it was eating at me. I came to ask for permanent residence in your realm.”

When Harry doesn’t respond, y/n crosses her arms over her chest, and picks at the skin of her elbow nervously. Her throat closes up and eyes well up with tears. But, she’s not sad. She’s overwhelmed with emotion because for the first time, she’s admitted it out loud; formulated into a coherent thought instead of a general feeling.

The king, touched by her vulnerability, gets close enough to her that so he can uncross her arms to stop the girl from harming herself. This stranger, so unexpectedly placed into his world, understood him. She knew what it was like to go unnoticed; to not get what she wanted out of life. But to risk forever? Is that really what she wanted?

“I do not know if this much of a wise decision. The rules of my realm are diff-”

Y/n grips at his arms, her eyes pleading and her tone desperate. “Please,” tears slip from her eyes, and neck veins protrude in stress, “You don’t understand. The past day has given me more than I’ve ever received from my life. Do you know much happiness Angus has given me? Or standing on a lily pad while trees touch my shoulders? Let me stay.”

She’s shaking him, grip so tight her nails make crescent marks in his skin.

“Do not cry, my lady,” he begs, voice just barely audible. “You must understand the severity of your words. This lifestyle is not a situation in which you can change your mind when your heart so pleases. The fairy life is forever.”

“I don’t care. I will die, if I go back.”

“Your species will perish either way. Humans are destined to die.” He stated in a matter-of-fact tone. At this, y/n drops in a heap of desolation, and places her face in her hands, shoulders shaking her sobs.

Her begging, her uprooting, was all for nothing. Her hopes were crashing, she wouldn’t survive this fall.

The strings of Harry’s heart pull ferociously at him, his instinct telling him he has to help her. He has to. Even if it goes against everything faeries stand for. He was king, he could do whatever he wished

He bent down, his feet bending at the toes in a crouch, and he placed a hand on the girls wrists, pulling them away from her face so he could see her when he uttered the words, “But, I will give you three days.”

At that moment, y/n thinks he looks magnificent. A curl has slipped from the crown’s grip, falling to rest over his left eye, and his eyes sparkle with golden specks of the sun that slip past y/n’s shoulders and his face. Shadows ghost over the left side of his face, accentuating the right side, and y/n sees for the first time, the small moles on his chin, and the bags underneath his eyes. Bags that come from nights of no sleep.

She knows because she had them too.

“Three days?” It comes out wet, her voice thick with the saliva that had collected in her mouth, and the mucus at the back of her nose.

“A period of time for you to be sure of this choice. A human can go three days without food or water, and I wish for you to have the most time possible. You cannot eat or drink, because by fairy law you are bound to stay the moment it passes your throat. I will not allow a forced decision. This is a choice you must make on your own.” When y/n’s eyes began to fall, the king placed a warm hand on her cheek, drawing her eyes back to him. He needed to know she was sure, and her eyes would let him know everything.

She was sure. She was very sure, and he could see that. More than that, she was even irritated he’d make her wait that long.

“Three days?” She asked

“Three days.”

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fantasy2739 · 4 years

Note

YES please continue the Merlin surviving Excalibur!! Maybe something about the toll that helping Merlin took on Douxie?

Hi, I’m sorry this took so long but I really wanted to nail it down properly. This defo goes through the last episode but unfortunately no Charlie. I couldn’t find a way to fit him in.

Link to part 1 if you want to read that first:

https://fantasy2739.tumblr.com/post/626333110868541440/can-you-please-do-a-fix-where-merlin-survives

So this is part 2 of the Merlin lives AU!!

I really hope you like it!!

“Our first priority has to be getting Nari away.” Merlin said firmly. They had gathered around the counter at HexTech. Hisirdoux was leaning heavily on his staff and the counter. Merlin stood next to him, ready to catch him if he passed out.

“But what about Jim?” Claire and Toby asked simultaneously.

“We cannot just abandon Master Jim.” Blinky said.

“We have to.” Merlin said. “His soul is lost.”

“It’s not.” Morgana interrupted. “Claire and I saw it in the shadow dimension.” She put a hand on Claire’s shoulder. “Do not fear, I will help you save him.”

“None of it will matter if the Arcane Order gets Nari.” Merlin said bluntly. They were still outside. No doubt waiting for them to reveal themselves.

“But you said if they don’t have the Genesis thingys it’ll be fine, right?” Toby pointed out. Merlin sighed.

“True but we can’t risk that.” Merlin agreed. “If they find Nari it won’t be long until they find the seals. Even if they don’t, they could force Nari to help their schemes.”

“We’re going to help Jim.” Claire said. “Either help us or get out of here.”

“Get out? The Arcane Order will eat you alive.” Merlin said with confidence. He knew they couldn’t defeat the Order, even with him.

“Enough of this. The Arcane Order is outside. We should make our own plans.” Morgana said. Claire, Toby, Krel, Steve, Blinky and Aaargh left. Nari looked at Merlin nervously.

“Merlin.” Hisirdoux panted out. “You taught me that all life is precious. We can’t just abandon Jim. After everything he’s done.”

“Hisirdoux.” Merlin began.

“No.” Hisirdoux breathed. “You made me a Master Wizard. You have to listen to me now.”

“I know you want to save your friends.” Merlin tried again.

“It’s not about saving my friends.” Hisirdoux interrupted. “We can’t leave Jim to live the rest of his life like that. It’s not right, it’s not fair. You’re taking the easy way out.” Hisirdoux panted heavily, clinging to the counter. Merlin stepped closer but was waved off. “‘M fine.”

“You are not fine.” Merlin insisted. “I’m taking you and Nari and getting out of here.”

“I’m not going.” Hisirdoux said.

“You’re in no fit state to argue.” Merlin said, grabbing him around the waist. “Nari, we’re leaving.”

Maybe throwing himself off the the flying ship was a touch dramatic but Douxie thought it got the message across. They hadn’t even taken off, so it wasn’t like he fell far.

“Hisirdoux!” Merlin yelled. “What were you thinking?”

“That you’d listen?” Douxie replied. “I told you, I’m not going.” He sat up on soft dirt. “I’m not abandoning them.” Merlin looked like he was about to tear his hair out.

“Hisirdoux, we are leaving.” He said in frustration, helping him to his feet.

“I’m going to help Jim!” Douxie shot back.

“You are not!”

“I am!”

“I’m not letting you!”

“You can’t stop me!”

“I’m not losing you again!” Merlin practically screamed. Douxie took a step back. Merlin looked down, sighing and taking a step towards him. “Please Hisirdoux, I can’t lose you.” The hands on his shoulders felt heavy but warm. Douxie looked into the cool blue of his mentors eyes and saw something he never saw. Fear. Merlin was never afraid. Merlin never said please (or he did, but sarcastically) to him. And something ached in Douxie’s heart. Something told him to stay, run away with Merlin and everything would be fine.

“They need me.” Douxie said sadly, pulling away. “I know we need to protect Nari but I need to protect them.” He started to leave, watching as Merlin outstretched his hand with an open mouth.

Getting back to HexTech from where they’d parked the ship took a while, especially at his sedate pace. Archie walked next to him nervously.

“Are you sure you want to do this Douxie? You’re awfully exhausted.” Archie prodded. Douxie huffed as he turned the corner to see ice everywhere. “Oh dear.” Douxie clenched his fists.

“The Arcane Order.” He snarled. “At least they didn’t get Nari.” He hurried into HexTech to find Krel. After waking the young Akiridian up and finding out exactly what happened Douxie tried to think of a plan. His head was pounding and his breathing was getting more erratic. He leaned heavily against the customer service counter trying to think of anything that could help.

“They’re going to offer a deal.” Krel said. “Nari and the Genesis Seals for our friends.”

“They can’t have them.” Douxie said. “What we need is a way to trap them...” His eyes lit up as a plan formulated in his mind. “We need to get to the fallen bit of Camelot. With a shard of the Heart of Avalon we can create a time loop. And then trick them into taking it.” Krel’s eyes widened.

“Lively.” He said. “But how are we going to trick them?”

“Maybe a fake Genesis Seal.” Archie suggested. “A simple illusion spell might work if it’s only for a short while.”

“Good idea Arch.” Douxie said, attempting to stand up. He nearly keeled over, Krel catching him last minute. “Blast it, I don’t think I’m up to much more than standing right now.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing I came back.” Merlin said from the doorway. Douxie’s eyes widened. “Now what reckless plan have you thought up?”

“You’re here?” Douxie asked in surprise. “I thought protecting Nari was the most important thing right now?”

“It is. But someone recently reminded me that all life is precious.” Merlin said with a smile. “And that we should do what is right, not what is easy.” Douxie had never felt so relieved in all his life. He stumbled towards Merlin, toppling into his arms for a big hug. Merlin tensed but wrapped his arms around him after a moment.

“Thank you.” Douxie said quietly. Merlin patted his head.

“Now this plan?”

The plan worked, sort of. At least, Bellroc and Skrael were fooled by the illusion of the Genesis Seals long enough for Douxie to pull an old shell game scam on them. They jumped in after the fake in seconds. Douxie was winded but managed to walk a little to where the ship picked him up. Nari stood on board, having stubbornly refused to stay behind. Douxie thought it was ironic that Merlin had possibly managed to find the most stubborn people on the planet to take into his care. Krel was steering as Merlin readied himself to fight Arthur once again. They reached the Arcane Order ship and boarded as quietly as they could. Reaching the room filled with ice was easy enough but both Jim and Arthur stood guard.

“Back for more death.” Arthur jeered. Douxie grimaced at what had become of the king. Archie breathed, freeing Aaargh to fight Jim while Merlin tried to keep Arthur occupied. Every swing of the cursed form of Excalibur at his mentor reminded Douxie that this wasn’t the Arthur he’d known. This was the Green Knight. Someone no longer caring. Something no longer human. Douxie set about freeing the others.

“You came.” Claire said, hugging him. “I knew you would.” Douxie smiled before turning to Steve and freeing him.

“Any plans on Jim?” He asked as the floor shook from Aaargh hitting Jim.

“My shadow magic might be able to get through to him. Overpower the other magic controlling him.” Claire said.

“Then let’s get him down on the ground.” Toby said, swinging his hammer. “You’ll have more room to pull out some moves.”

“We all will.” Claire agreed.

“Krel is on the ship.” Douxie said. Toby and Aaargh managed to connect a blow to Jim’s head at the same time and he was out. “Go straight down, take a right, then straight again.” Douxie winced, still feeling drained of energy. “We’ll be right behind you.” The others took off, leaving Morgana, Merlin and Douxie to face off against the Green Knight.

Something was wrong with his apprentice. Merlin could tell from the wincing and the stumbling. He knew Hisirdoux. He had large enough magic reserves, not to mention he seemed to build it back up again quickly enough. But right now it looked like he couldn’t levitate a twig. If Merlin had noticed, well it wouldn’t be long until Arthur did. Archie seemed to be trying to tug the boy away, but he was moving stiffly. Merlin saw Arthur move towards Hisirdoux before he did. It was almost like watching in slow motion. And Arthur would have killed him. Killed the closest thing he’d ever had to a child. If Morgana hadn’t thrown half the ceiling at him. Merlin was by Hisirdoux’s side in seconds.

“I’m sorry.” Hisirdoux said. “I’m still not feeling right.” Merlin put a hand on his shoulder.

“Morgana!” He called. The sorceress looked over at him. “I’m leaving Arthur to you.” Something flickered across her face. Relief? Trust? Understanding? It didn’t matter. One minute she was throwing shards at Arthur the next; she’d shoved them both out the window yelling about gravity. Merlin doubted it would kill them. He pulled Hisirdoux’s arm over his shoulder and started to help the boy walk. Something sizzled in the air.

“Look out!” Hisirdoux yelled, yanking them both down behind a pillar. The fireball seared past them leaving a smouldering crater in the wall.

“You little brat.” Bellroc snapped. “Trapping us like that.”

“Weren’t you just an errand boy?” Skrael asked with icy humour. “A little thing relying on more powerful wizards?” They were trying to get a rise out of Hisirdoux. And maybe it would have, if the boy had the energy to move half an inch.

“Wait here and don’t.”

“But master.”

“But master me.” Merlin said with a smile. “Archie keep him here.”

“Oh I will.” Archie said with a frown. No doubt something to do with Hisirdoux not telling him how rough he really felt. Merlin stood up.

“Merlin?!” The Arcane Order hissed in twin surprise.

“Still alive.” Bellroc snarled. They asked several fireballs at him but he dodged each one. The duel was fast paced and violent. Merlin managed to keep it diverted from Hisirdoux, hoping to give the boy enough time to gather his strength and run. But Bellroc and Skrael knew he was nearby and were trying to catch him defending somewhere. Merlin just prayed that Hisirdoux could at least defend himself. The battle raged. Blow for blow. Fire. Ice. Rage and violence. Screaming, howling, hateful. Never ending.

Time slowed. Merlin could not take them on alone. He was still healing from his own brush with death. Although he seemed to be doing better than Hisirdoux. The looming face of death came once more. And again Merlin was ready. Because he wasn’t just being stabbed by Arthur this time. No. He was defending his apprentice. Giving those children time to escape. Time to save their friend, even if he did not see how they could. He was slowing the Order down. And all those things were something worth dying for. He was ready. He just had to make Hisirdoux leave.

“Tenebris exilium!” Merlin yelled, taking them both on at once. “Hisirdoux. Get out of here. Protect Nari. GO!” He prayed that his apprentice would just listen for once. He needed him safe. Needed him to live. Run, Merlin begged, please run.

“Tenebris exilium!” Hisirdoux yelled, standing next to him. Archie in his dragon form, adding his own bit of power. “Not without you. Sorry Dad, but I’m disobeying you one last time.” Merlin stared at Hisirdoux. He’d just called him... why couldn’t his boy be selfish just for once? They were powerful together. But weakened by the previous battle, while Skrael and Bellroc were fit and healthy. The ship shook from the sheer might of the combined magics. Thunder howled and lightning split the skies. Blue ringed Hisirdoux’s eyes as he was sure green did his. The blasts were too powerful and Merlin felt himself being thrown. He closed his eyes as they once again tumbled through the sky.

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timextoxhajima · 4 years

Audio

Playlist Feels

Member: Kim Jongin

Genre: fluff, angst, smut

A/N: i know what you’re thinking: “all of a sudden, dana???” well, yes. i guess... i spent a good few hours simping over kim jongin because wHO doesn’t right and he’s not even my bias in exo sigh... also this is going to be a pretty morbid one shot so forgive me.

Word Count: 3.2k

“please just look me in my face, tell me everything's okay”

why was it so easy for him? he looks at you and it’s like he could make the world stop for you.

don’t get it wrong, you were not in love with him. it is not love, and it will never be, not because he’s a terrible person.

no, never.

he is the light of your life, and that’s exactly why you would never fall for him. nobody ever believed your relationship with jongin was platonic, but it was enough for the two of you to know the truth yourselves.

“i was wondering where you ran off to.”

the rustle and crumble of dried leaves on the brown and orange floor catches your attention, and your eyes fly downwards to see jongin looking up at you with wide eyes.

it’s a surprise to see his hair done up, because most of the time it’d be softened and ruffled around his forehead, glasses perched on his nose and his fringe dangling between his lashes.

but the sight of him just a few metres from your feet hanging over the edge brings a smile to your face. “you’re lucky this ledge is big enough for my ass, i could’ve fallen right over if i got scared of your calling out.”

the dimple on his right cheek reveals itself, and he pulls out his hands, walking over to the ladder under the tree house.

as he disappears from your view under your feet, you return your attention to the frozen lake beyond the trees, now stark naked without their leaves to hide their age.

the trees’ barks are darker than the fur of beavers, and the leaves that fall like hair from an aged person camouflage into the slightly soiled ground.

the sun is peeking from behind the slightly cloudy canvas the gods bestowed upon mankind, ridding the frozen lake of its possible beauty had it been given the chance to reflect the sun’s light.

the cool breeze kisses your skin as if it wasn’t already on the verge of drying up and cracking open.

wooden boards creak under your weight when you hear the trap door of the tree house being pushed upwards and open. it reminds you of how old this treehouse is.

“how long have you been here?”

you hear him shuffling about, a small thud in the corner farthest from you telling you that he’s removed his shoes. a soft clack signals to you that he gets the trapdoor closed.

you turn and he is getting off the pile of blankets and pillows stacked against the length of the room. light reflects off the rings he had on his hands, and the gel hardening the strands of his fringe together occurs to you that he had a photo shoot today.

“not long.”

he scoffs, swinging one leg over the ledge and the other up to his knees, back resting against the wood behind him.

“your definition and my definition of ‘long’ are, unfortunately, very different.”

it earns a gentle laugh from you as you glance at him. “about an hour.”

“an hour is considerably long,” he leans his head back, eyes looking straight at you.

“well, for you.”

a quiet pause.

“want to tell me why you’re here?”

“why can’t i be here?”

“because you’re only ever here if you have something you can’t -- or don’t want to -- tell anybody.”

a sharp inhalation of the cold air sours your throat and nose, your eyes travelling out again into the open. slight resignation pulls your lips up your cheek as you look down at your hands, mostly covered in the over-sized pullover that belongs to him.

“sometimes i feel like you know me too well,” the wind rustles some trees while you look up at him again. “it gets a little intrusive.”

jongin chuckles and sucks his lips between his teeth, fingers playing with the rings on his hands.

you shake your head, turning back out to nature and leaning your head against the side of the ledge. “i wish i could say no, but if you can already tell then there’s no reason for me to hide.”

he leans forward and the change in position motivates you to side-eye him.

“i had a health check up last month.”

“the one you skipped work for?”

“yeah.”

you don’t need to look at him to know he is panicking.

jongin was never one to hide his feelings well; in fact, you know him a little too well.

there is a deadly silence in the air, and suddenly, you feel all as one with the trees outside. it is only a matter of time before you feel as nude as the trees without your hair, before you feel like you are nothing but the solidity of your bones like the trees stand with only their trunks.

the only difference was that flowers will bloom again in spring, and then again year after year, but you?

you’d be buried underground, seeping back into the earth and your existence will become one with the grass, the trees, the leaves.

“what was in the report?”

it cracks you open like a walnut, to know that he is already in denial before the truth is set out before him. the muscle in your neck feels like it has been frozen in place, forcing you to put in more effort into turning your head to look at him.

but he is as frozen as the trees and water will be when winter completely sets in, he is more frozen than you will be in another year’s time.

a gulp finds the walls of your throat as you stare at him blankly. you curl your toes in your socks, curl your fingers in the sleeves of his pullover, curl your spirit inside your skin when you notice the bare smile on his lips has completely disappeared.

“what was in the report?”

the question hangs itself in the air between the two of you, and jongin is now leaning towards you, arms crossed against his chest.

“i fucked u--”

“what was in the report?”

“i--”

“what was in the report?”

why does it hurt more to have him know this information, than you knowing it yourself?

it will definitely hurt more than you shoving yourself off this ledge; it will definitely hurt more than you going through chemotherapy just to relief the pain; it will hurt the most when he is the one giving your eulogy because he is the only person for you, even if it was never romantic.

it will definitely hurt like fuck when your spirit will witness his tears falling to the ground, but you cannot hug him, you cannot wipe his tears away and tell him everything will be okay.

not when he is looking down at your lifeless body, buried 6 feet into the earth and returned to mother nature.

“...stage four... pancreatic cancer.”

the words are heavier on him than they are on you.

the sleepless nights from nausea and abdominal pain were already telltale signs that your body has been refusing to function the way it should.

initially, you were worried it was just your reproductive system acting up the way it does every other month, but when it gets worse and your period doesn’t show up the way it should, something felt wrong.

of course, jongin didn’t need to know. he doesn’t need to know he will lose his best friend in another year. he doesn’t need to know he cannot stop the world to save you. he doesn’t need to know he cannot do anything about it.

his adams’ apple bobs up and down as he swallows, and he pulls back away from you. his back meets the edge of the ledge with no control, and he hides half his face behind his arms, dawned in the black sleeves.

his voice cracks the moment the first word comes out muffled into the cotton of his clothes, and his eyes became all the more harder to look at.

“it’s a good time to tell me you’re messing with me.”

your teeth sink into your bottom lip, and a frown cements itself between your brows as you quickly look away.

he shuffles, and his presence disappears from next to you when he stands up behind you.

“i’m still waiting for you to tell me it’s a joke.”

i wish.

your jaws are clenched, and just imagining him crying is enough to tear you apart. it feels like it was your fault for breaking the news to him.

“i’m sorry,” you bury your face into your hands, fingerpads pressing into your lids where your eyes are closed. “i should’ve known sooner.”

the wooden boards creak behind you as he paces up and down the treehouse, and the creaking stops.

the complete absence of movement, or sound, is creeping up on you like a scrooge’s ghost of the past, and it urges you to turn around to make sure he isn’t going to throw himself out the ledge.

but he is looking at you with strained eyes. his lips are slightly pursed and he is blinking like life was running in slow motion.

you could hear your own heart thumping in your head while his soul crawls out from his pupils and dig into your eyes. it’s as if he is trying to pick you apart from the inside to eradicate every toxic cell inside you, so he could put you back together again.

so you watch the truth sink into him like snow would sink into the ground when you are one with the earth, and it forces him to sink to his knees infront of you.

the sight is tremendously revolting, causing you to jump to your knees. frantically grabbing onto his arms, his weight feels like it has been doubled, now with the knowledge that he is losing you, though not the same way you will be losing him.

the tears are definitely not your priority right now, though you couldn’t really see well with all that shit in your eyes.

jongin does not move an inch and it is heartbreaking to know that he cannot accept it, no matter how true this was.

“get up. please--”

your legs were weak by the time he pulls you into his chest, and you fall messily into body as he shifts backwards.

his arms are wrapped around your shoulders and your right ear is plastered to his heart, rapidly running in his ribcage. his legs stretched out by your lower back and knees, and you wish with all your might that this is just a nightmare you will wake up from.

that you will see him at dinner after his work, that he will send you home and say hi to your parents, that you will be invited over to his place to watch movies and he could make you breakfast the next day.

but it is not a nightmare, regardless the effort you channel into your wishful thinking.

he pulls away and it is more surprising than not when he leans forward, never hesitating for a moment.

is this how snow white felt when the kiss restored her life?

but you are not snow white, and jongin does not have that ability to prevent your nearing death.

when jongin pulls away, he is looking into your tear coated eyes and ugly-streaked face. his thumb wipes the wet trails off your cheeks, orbs filled with ache and hatred.

not for you, but for life and life’s decision to take you away from him.

“is there... anything you want me to do?”

you could feel his hands trembling against your cheek, and you writhe further into his palm, into his warmth. your hands comes up to hold the back of his hand against your face, your eyes shutting tightly and pushing out the overflowing tears.

“anything. anything at all. it doesn’t have to be now but--”

“nothing,” you shake your head and open your eyes to beg him. “please, just stay with me.”

you can already hear the grind of the gears as you are lowered into the ground, and the choir of sobs and hiccups in the background. jongin will not be one of them, for he will be too tired and too broken to force anymore tears out.

it takes him awhile to process your wish and you weren’t sure if he understood it wrongly, but it is overwhelmingly, horridly, destructively heartwrenching when he shoves his lips between yours again.

it is in that moment that you could no longer tell the line between death and love, because it definitely feels like he is trying to bear the burden of your fate through your lips.

you can taste the regret and anger on his tongue when you let him slide through your lips and your eyes flutter shut upon the contact.

his palms drop down to your thighs and he wraps your legs around his waist while he’s still sitting down. you wonder where he finds the strength to drag the both of you backwards to where the pillows and blankets were.

he tastes like life because he is a crucial part of yours.

it is difficult to understand why you were chosen to be torn apart from him; from someone you never want to leave, and jongin will go through the trouble of figuring that part out on his own.

your hair falls down the side of your face when you tilt your head, your thumbs gently caressing his cheekbones and his palms warm on your lower back.

the kiss is broken when you pull away to rub your tears away with the sleeves of his pullover, and he looks at you like it was the last time you were in his arms.

“forgive me,” he says, quiet and unresolved. “but i don’t care if we’ve been just friends. there is nothing for me to lose, and i want you to know that i love you, more than anything in the world.”

so much for wiping my tears away.

your sharp inhalation is garbled by the mucus that was already collecting in your nose.

your nods start shallow and light but it soon becomes aggressive when the importance of what the two of you have and will physically lose is in fact, running on a time bomb.

“i love you too.”

the cold air runs off your faces when he finds your lips again, this time feeling more desolate and resentful, and you can only imagine how he was feeling.

he leans forward so he can shift you over onto the pillows, and your back rests into the soft padding of the stacked blankets and cushions.

jongin doesn’t try to be intrusive or aggressive with his kisses or his touch, his hand only running down the length of your thigh that was leaning on his hip.

the tears don’t stop, but they are running slightly slower, now that his declaration of love for you makes you feel like this was everlasting and eternal, even if you were not.

he pulls away to leave butterfly kisses on the icy skin on your neck, and the sensation of his warm lips against the coolness is especially hard to wrap your head around.

your breathing is surprisingly stable, and you realise it was because it is jongin. you trust him with your life and he will carry your ashes to the end of the world if he needed to keep you by his side.

he rests his forehead on yours, alternating kisses between your lips, cheeks and forehead while his fingers grip the rim of your joggers.

the huffs from his lips tell you that he was in more pain that he’d like to admit, and the sudden slow-down in his movements give his thoughts away faster than he shakes his head and locks eyes with you.

“i’m sorry, we shouldn’t--”

“no, please,” your fingers wrap around his arm by the side of your chest. “we have nothing to lose, and i don’t want to go if you think i don’t trust you, if you think i don’t love you.”

resignation tightens his temples and shuts his eyes like someone screwing a nail into his head and he looks away for a brief moment, his breath shaky and indecisive.

so it is absolutely bitter when you take the initiative to catch his lips again, and you drag his hand back down to your joggers.

wrapping his fingers around the rim, you help him pull down the material while you arch your back off the blankets.

jongin doesn’t say another word while he pulls away to remove both your bottoms and your underwear, the cool air hitting you where you were sinfully yearning for his love.

but what are sins, if you were already chosen to leave without a choice?

his crouched, almost lifeless frame gets his belt undone, his knees locking your legs apart.

the sight does not make you want him more sexually, but instead makes you love him even more.

was it because he loved you as much as you loved it? was it because he is so willing to prove it? you might never know, but it was alright.

knowing that he ever loved you the way you did was enough.

jongin pulls the blanket over his back, the sides draping down the sides of your hips while he positions himself over you.

it takes him awhile to find the strength to look at you.

“everything will be okay as long as i’m here with you.”

he brushes his thumb across your cheekbone while you nod, and he buries his lips between yours as he pushes himself into you.

the initial pain does not do anything to curb the pain you were feeling inside, so when the pain seeps away into pleasure like you’ve never known before, it is endearing that you chose to give your most prized possession to jongin.

it was strange that the both of you were still mostly clothed with a blanket covering the most obscene part where you were joined, but it doesn’t matter, does it?

not when you have fallen to your knees, begging and pleading life to tell you why you were being torn away from him.

jongin is aware it is your first time, so he starts off slow and makes sure you’re not wincing in pain before he picks up the pace.

he buries his nose into your neck, and the soft mewls you were feeding his ears were earning low grunts into the skin on your collarbone.

your nails dig into his back while he thrusts into you, the feeling of embracing him in such a sensual way was all too difficult to bear.

was this it? was your life all meant for you to realise that jongin loved you the way you did? did you realise the one thing that fate needed you to, and now that you were done with it, you were being taken away?

it is bittersweet that fate needed to put you through this ordeal in order to understand the love you shared with him.

then again, he was always enough.

he was your truth, he is your truth, and he always will be.

#exo #exo kai #kai #kim jong in #kim kai #kim jongin #exo kim jongin #jongin angst #jongin smut #kai angst #kai smut #timetohajima

84 notes · View notes

nomunamuinmybrain · 4 years

Text

Bitter 6

Finally! It took me so long to get it together and finish this chapter. A lot has happened in my life since I last posted but most importantly I graduated from university. Now that I have all the time in the world I want to give all my attention to writing. I hope you enjoy this chapter and I hope you are all safe and healthy given the situation with the pandemic.

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Summary: Sometimes our thoughts get the best of us. Sometimes depression gets the best of all of us. Too oblivious to realize that we are surrounded with love. This is a story about learning to receive love, learning that you deserve love. A fun group of friends and their lives as they gradually change and grow. Sometimes bitter other times sweet much like chocolate such is life.

FLUFF WITH A SPRINKLE (or so) of smut/Slow pace

words: 1.7k

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Chapter 6

A knot forming in my belly, the sensation stretching to my heated mound forcing my thighs to rub in frustration. My hand slithers from my aching breasts to my slit, I can’t believe how wet I got just thinking about him. Next thing I know, the other side of the bed sinks under his weight as he makes his way over me. I am not sure how he got here but I don’t care. I can feel his scent, heavy and sweet, making me dizzy. His hands take over from mine, teasing and touching me. I want him to taste me everywhere. Devour every inch of my being with his sinful mouth, marking me as his. It’s as if he is in my head, knowing my every thought, every desire. My hands pinned above me held by his hand.

No longer thinking reasons to resist this, I completely surrender to his touch. My back arches wanting even more, he is everywhere, I breathe him in and in my utterly intoxicated state that’s when I hear it, beeping loud in my ears, my alarm clock. I knew this seemed too good to be a fragment of reality. Grunting noises escape me while I roll around trying to mute the source. The boys must have gotten up earlier or maybe they left the room right after I fell asleep, making sure I get some rest since they know how stressed I was about this whole coffee meet cute and that’s when I felt it. A strange flutter in my lower belly, a tingling but it was nothing of anxiety, it was pure excitement. I jump off the bed to get ready and after a much appreciated pep talk from the guys I was already out the door and on my way to the coffee shop. Namjoon was sweet enough to text me good morning and ask for my order beforehand. We lock eyes as I am crossing the street and I am positive his smile is outshining the sun, thankfully I did not faint in the middle of the street. Deep breath.

“Here you go. Iced latte, medium, double shot espresso with soy milk and one pump of caramel.”

“Sorry for making you memorize the whole thing. I’m a bit particular with what I like. Especially coffee.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that. Besides, I’m no better. Iced Americano, blonde roast, extra ice, extra shot with foam.”

“Are we sure the barista didn’t spit in these cause I think I would if I had to make this order.” My silly remark made him laugh and the flutter in my belly grew stronger.

We started walking, heading towards the park. Conversation with him was smooth, effortless, he seemed to be as invested as I was which was refreshing cause for once I felt like I wasn’t blabbering someone to boredom and every time I took my turn to say anything he would look at me. He gingerly brushed his fingers against mine, weaving them with mine, brushing his thumb softly. I guess for the first time I felt interesting to someone other than Hoseok and Tae. There was nothing we didn’t touch on, from family stuff to career and childhood and lost dreams, there wasn’t a topic off the table. When we got to the unavoidable point of discussing relationships and experiences of that kind I tensed up a bit and unfortunately he picked up on that.

“It’s okay if this is too much for you, we don’t have to…”

“No, it’s fine. It’s better to be upfront with things like this.”

“I agree. Took me a while to come to terms with confronting people and situations.”

“Well, I’m in the same boat you know. I don’t have much experience with dating and I’ve never even been in a relationship. My insecurities plus my anxiety and depression haven’t, how should I put this, they didn’t leave any space for that stuff. Working on my relationship with myself and my mental health seemed more important. Also I never wanted to burden anyone with my issues, it wouldn’t be fair. Society has us believing that through another person we can finally feel whole but, well, it’s nothing but a sugar coated pill. Building a strong and healthy relationship with yourself is a blessing on the long run. To the eyes of others it might seem like I’m behind on that stuff but it doesn’t faze me as much anymore.”

“For the record you are not behind on anything, that’s bullshit. You made your wellbeing a priority and that is admirable to say the least. My last relationship has left me with so much trauma it left me frozen, unable to put myself out there to meet someone else. I wouldn’t even have approached you if it wasn’t for my friends pushing me, I feared that I was damaged goods, sort to say.”

I halt my step, turned to look at him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re not. I hope you know that you’re not.”

“I know. Now, I know.” His hand cupped my check and I could feel the redness spread as I leaned into his caress. “I hope you know that too.” he continued.

He leaned in, his breath fanning warmth against me, he looked in my eyes, my lips and then back into my eyes, longingly. His plump lips parted letting out a sigh. “I- I really want to kiss you.”

I drew in a sharp breath and answered in a small voice. “Me too.”

His kiss was deep, intoxicating and somewhat controlled cause let’s face it we we’re in the middle of a park. A satisfying grunt escaped me and he did something that I can only describe as a low growl, it was sexy and I could feel the tingling intensify. With both hands on my face, his thumbs tracing patterns on my cheeks, he withdrew his plush lips to lovingly nudge my nose with his.

“I’m so glad we can be together in this moment. Wait, no, that sounds weird. What I meant, what I’m trying to say…”

I take the lead to put him out of his misery. He looked adorable fumbling for the right words.

“Namjoon relax. I know what you mean. I feel the same way.”

The rest of the walk we joked around and I honestly haven’t let go with another person so soon, he has a way, a warmth that just makes me feel comfortable and most definitely desired and appreciated. Before we parted we set another date for Sunday at the movies and for the first time in forever I felt excited for something. Once we got to my building we kissed one more time and even though I told him to go he waited to see me go up which I wouldn’t have done given the situation I had to witness. The door was open and the apartment was full of people. Squeezing my way in I browse for Hobi and once I spot him in the kitchen I make my way to him and grab him from the arm.

“What’s all this?!”

“We are pregaming before we get to Jungkookie’s party. It’s a last minute situation and I offered to help. You do remember we have Jungkook’s thing today, right?”

“It’s 15:46! And yes, I do remember. Isn’t it a little early for pregaming anyway?”

“Um, not when you have a bunch of art hippies. It’s called a brunch pregame or something like that, who cares. Pancake?” he stuffed it in my mouth before I had a chance to answer. Tae jumped and hugged me from behind, most definitely tipsy, playing with my curls.

“How was coffee with dream man Kim Namjoon?” he asked

“She’ll tell us later when we are not in a sea of strangers.”

“In a word, perfect. I’ll head to my room and get ready.”

In the sanctuary of my room I drop my phone on the desk and head to the shower. A much needed scorching hot shower later and with the date replaying in my head, I sit on my desk to do my makeup. It’s already 19:40 by the time I’m finished and the noise has died down assumingly because everyone has left. I wasn’t all that excited about being among people tonight but I would never skip any of Jungkook and Andy’s parties. I think it’s a new sold out show that we’re celebrating but who cares really it’s just going to end up crazy. Jungkook notoriety for making each meetup an unforgettable event is unbeatable. After last time’s paint war debacle I opted for jeans to be as comfortable as possible.

Half an hour later we’re already parked outside of Jungkook’s house and then Hobi locks us in. Tae was the first one to give him the stank eye and question the sanity of his action.

“What the hell?”

“Tae, I am not gonna make the party if y/n over here doesn’t give us the details of this mornings event. I might actually eat my own hand.”

“Okay, okay, but I’ll fast forward a bit because I don’t want to drag this on. I had a wonderful time with him, he is so sweet and considerate, we talked about everything and anything. Also, we kissed and I cannot wait to go on another date.”

Hobi and Tae couldn’t hide their happiness, so prominent in their expression. They both jumped me to give me the tightest hug possible.

“Baby girl we’re so happy for you.”

“Let’s break this up now and get going Jungkook is waving from the door.”

We get to the door, Jungkook waiting for us, arms open, cigar hanging from his mouth.

“You’re into smoking now?” Tae asked

Much to our surprise he bit down to reveal the molten caramel center. Of course its made of chocolate, he’s a candy nut. We’re all ushered inside, everyone’s scattered here and there in the large common area having conversation over the latest pieces acquired in his personal collection. Among new faces and a few familiar ones I spot a face my memory could never erase, he looks up at the same time, eyes locking with mine and shoots me a wink.

My old crush.

The ever so charming, Kim Seokjin.

#bts #btsfic #bts fanfction #bts college au #bts namjoon #namjoon #namjoon x reader #namjoon x yn #seokjin #bts seokjin #bts hoseok #taehyung #jungkook #thekimlinenet #hyunglinenetwork

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savannah-lim · 4 years

Text

Putting The Sass In Assassin || Savannah & Norma

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @savannah-lim & @normallee CONTENT: Knives, Death, Gun Use SUMMARY: Savannah tries to help Norma escape a bounty hunter and everything is perfectly normal

Norma believed it was customary to feel exhausted at the end of the work day, her co-workers constantly complained about it. However, she rarely felt that way. This was likely due to the fact that Bottomless Booty was an endless supply of chaos. Usually. Tonight had been so slow, though, that nothing of interest happened. There wasn’t even one uncomfortable happy birthday song. There was a bench nearby on her walk home and she took a seat, holding her head in her hands, trying to find the strength to get back home. She felt so drained, like she could collapse any minute. Using her powers would be a risk, a fatal one. But not using them would be just as dangerous. She sighed. Bounty hunters were a nuisance, but they could be dealt with. Starvation was something she couldn’t fight or run from if she accepted her fate. There was only one solution. Norma peeled herself off the bench and walked over towards the car stopped at the red light. She knocked on the window and the driver rolled it down. Before he could say anything at all, Norma reached out and touched his shoulder. “You want to run this light,” she said, and then pulled her hand away. The man nodded and sped off, slamming into the car in front of him. The chaos was glorious. The anger, the confusion, the strife. She could drink it up all night. But she didn’t have long. She knew it wouldn’t be long until someone was after her, like the alarm signalling her location was set off. But she needed more. Just a little more.

Then a knife went whizzing past her ear. Norma squealed and turned around to try and find what direction it was coming from. A tall, thin, but strong woman was running in her direction. Norma turned and started running away. As fast as possible. She didn’t stop. Not until she ran into someone face first. “Sorry, I’m sorry. I--” Norma was about to keep running when she realized she knew this stranger. They were not a stranger at all. “Savannah! Hello! Please assist me. We need to run now. Lets go!” she said, grabbing her arm and dragging her along with her away from the bounty hunter. Savannah had helped her against those flying monkeys, surely she could do so again.

Savannah had almost spilled her coffee all over herself when she'd heard the skidding wheels of the car speeding away, the sickening sound of metal as it crashed. She threw what was left of her cup into the trash can, beginning to sprint in the direction of the noise. She didn't get very far though before she ran face-first into Norma. Savannah didn't know what she was about to say to Norma, but Norma cut her off with a strangeness to her desperation before Savannah could even say a word. "Wh--what? There was a--" But she never got to finish her sentence before another knife rushed through the air, making a warning whistling sound as it moved and almost giving Savannah a fresh haircut.

"Run, got it!" Who the hell was throwing knives in the middle of the street? She needed to get somewhere safe with Norma before calling it in, so she grabbed the other woman, putting feet to concrete and ducking round the corner. She didn't want to lead them anywhere there might be people crowding. Not another headless horseman situation. She turned a corner, hopping a barrier into a parking lot. At least they could use the cars as cover. "What's going on?" she gasped in a whisper. "Did you see who it was?"

It was very nice that Savannah didn’t ask questions and simply decided to help Norma. Well, she asked some questions, but overall it was very convenient that she was one of the trusting humans. Maybe the other woman might even survive this ordeal. It would be a shame to have to throw her into the line of fire in order to survive. Norma hoped it wouldn’t come to that but bounty hunters were ruthless. She assumed that much was obvious but Savannah appeared to be confused. That was unfortunate, Norma had thought that she was quite smart. Perhaps she was incorrect. “Oh, that’s a bounty hunter. There’s a bounty on me and they’re attempting to murder me and collect the bounty. Do you need me to explain further?” she said between heavy breaths as they ran. They ducked behind the car and Norma did her best to peek below the car for any feet headed their way. It was very difficult to tell. “No, I didn’t. Who was it?” she asked. “Do you know them? It would be very helpful if you did.” Another knife went flying and Norma’s hands shot up to cover her ears at the deafening sound of the car window shattering. Norma glanced around and saw an alleyway between two buildings and tugged at Savannah’s sleeve before darting that way. “That ladder! We should use it!” She was too short to reach it herself, but with a boost, maybe they could climb up the strange metal ladder on the side of the building. “I would greatly appreciate your help in this matter before I’m dead, thank you.”

They didn't have time to talk, and yet, somehow Savannah always seemed to need to talk to Norma anyway. Her brain simply couldn't stop asking questions. Norma just demanded so many of them. "Why is there a bounty hunter after you?!" And why was Norma so accepting of the fact? Savannah didn't think she'd seen Norma display much of an emotion at all since she'd met her. "If you know them we can identify them, arrest them--never mind." Savannah's first priority had been to get Norma out of the street, somewhere with plenty of cover for them, but there was also lots of glass, and if her time around Regan had taught her anything, it was that glass shattered. "Careful!" She ducked as the car window sprayed tiny particles everywhere as it broke.

Savannah pulled her gun, firing off a few warning shots, breaking a couple of car windows herself as she aimed at the assailant. She'd ducked for cover herself though, and that gave them time. "Move, let's go," she instructed, covering Norma as they made their way to the ladder. She fired off a round every time she saw the slightest bit of movement, until they reached the wall where the ladder hung. "Go, go, go. I'll give you a boost." She hoisted Norma up, then fired her gun again, buying her some more time. Another knife hit the wall near Norma’s leg. "There should be a catch at the top to release the rest of it for me." There was no way that 5'4" of Savannah would get up there on her own, but at least she had the gun.

“Because I used my pow--” Norma bit down on her tongue. Figuratively. She did not want to bite her tongue off. It would take an annoyingly long time to heal and she did not have that much time at present. “There are certain reasons that I’m aware of but cannot change at the moment so I hope that suffices for n--” Another knife came flying towards them and cut Norma’s sentence short. She had to commend this bounty hunter, they were very skilled with knives. And carried many with them at all times.

Norma waited for the boost and when it came, she was still shocked at how high she was being thrown up towards the ladder. After letting out a bit of a shout, she pulled herself up to the next rung. It took a bit of struggling to get there, Norma was not much of an action sort of valkyrie. Thankfully, Savannah was excellent back up and used her firearm very liberally against their assailant. She rolled herself up on the top and took a second to catch her breath, screeching as another knife ricocheted off the metal railing. Yes, right, she had to work fast. “The catch and what?” she asked her companion. Neither of those words meant anything. But she was meant to release something. Likely to extend the ladder. This was not catching a fish, she knew that much. Her face scrunched up as she examined the edge of the ladder until she saw something that looked like it was meant to be manipulated and pulled the lever. The ladder dropped down and she shouted, “it worked!” She waited a second to see that Savannah made it up to the ladder rungs without issue. “Let’s go! Roof!” she said and started climbing up the stairs and ladders higher and higher. Her plan did not extend beyond the roof but she hoped her companion had more ideas.

“Too many syllables,” Savannah said harshly as they had to duck another knife that came flying at them, hurrying Norma along and firing a few more protective shots, reloading behind the car. Reasons. Savannah would need to hear about those later, but for now she was a little preoccupied with not being turned into a pin cushion. “A clip, a lever, something to release the rest of the ladder!” Savannah’s patience was thin, as was to be expected when under fire, but thankfully, Norma released the ladder and Savannah took the opportunity to climb it like her life depended on it; because it did. A blade rushed past her leg. She felt the wind ruffle her pant leg as it whizzed through the air. Savannah climbed through the hole, catching her breath. There was no time to waste. “Here!” There was a pile of debris; metal panels and disused parking ticket machines, pieces of fencing that had been torn down from the edge of the roof last time it had been replaced, Savannah started dragging some of the lighter pieces over to guard against any flying knives, encouraging Norma to help her with the rest.

Once they were on the roof, Norma took the random items that Savannah handed her. The thing in her hand appeared to be an old sign or something of the sort. “What am I meant to do with this?” she asked, holding it out in front of her, half ready to toss it aside. “I don’t think I need to point the way for this hunt--” The sound of clanging close behind them cut her off. Without informing the other woman, she took off running as far away as possible. Unfortunately, that was simply as far as the edge of the roof. Which was not very far at all. “Protect me!” she shouted and ducked behind the other woman. “You know how to fight! I think. You held your ground before please do so further!” A head peaked up from the edge of the roof and the assassin climbed up to face them. She had her knives ready and began to throw them. Norma screamed, keeping herself behind the other woman, holding the makeshift metal shield in front of her. The killer advanced and Norma took a step back, closer to the edge. Her balance was nothing remarkable and she found herself stumbling backwards and thought she might fall over. That would be unfortunate. She hated waking up from the near dead.

“Cover it! Cover the hole!” Savannah got kind of abrupt when she was in task-oriented mode, especially when someone’s life was in danger. Double-especially if that life was hers. She piled as much garbage on top of the hole where the ladder was as possible, but it barely seemed to slow the woman down. She heard her breaking through and cursed, running with Norma. “God damnit.” Yes, she knew how to fight. At least decently, but she wasn’t sure it would do any good against someone who seemed to have a limitless supply of throwing knives. She lifted her gun, staring at the assassin with an unyielding gaze. “Hey, asshole, I may not have my badge on me right now, but killing an FBI agent is gonna look real fucking bad for you. What do you want with my friend?”

The assassin simply stared past her, locking eyes with Norma. “Death,” she said, and pulled one final knife, throwing it right past Savannah and directly into Norma’s chest.

“NO!” Savannah yelled. She could have shot the killer. Probably should have. Instead, she dropped to Norma’s side where the metal sheet had fallen haphazardly to the floor. She shoved it aside to get a better look at the damage. “Hey! Stay with me!”

Norma didn’t have time to put her makeshift shield back up, she barely had time to find her balance. The knife flew and plunged straight into her chest. She groaned at the pain and clutched at the handle of the weapon. She always hated this. The pain and the dying momentarily. It was all very inconvenient. She considered just pulling the knife out and walking away, but she had to get the bounty hunter to go away. She sighed dramatically and placed the back of her hand across her forehead in a manner she had seen on the television and fell back to the ground to play dead. It wasn’t terribly difficult as the pain was rather intense. “Pull. The knife. Out. When she. Leaves,” she sputtered and whispered as she lay back. “Make her think… dead.” Norma hoped that would be enough for both of them to comprehend. She really didn’t want to wake up in the morgue. Again.

Savannah stared at Norma in a panic as she lay dying before her eyes. There was nothing to fake. The confusion and fear was all real. She didn’t know how to react as she heard Norma’s whispers, so she just busied herself with fussing around for her phone as if to call 911. She still might, depending how this went. Luckily, the assassin seemed to want nothing to do with Savannah, deeming a kill that hadn’t got a bounty attached to it unworthy of pursuit, and she disappeared into the building presumably to walk back down through the parking garage. Once it was clear, Savannah did what Norma had said, hands trembling as she removed the knife. “Norma?!” she called. “Hey, I took the knife out. Can you hear me?!” This was ridiculous. Her bloody hands reached for her phone to call for help, just as breath sprang back into Norma’s body and she awoke again before her eyes. “Great,” she sighed, her words a mix of relieved and exasperated. “Another White Crest miracle.” And that was the kindest way of putting it.

The world came back into focus as Norma gasped for air. Her vision slowly came back into focus and there was… Oh thank the gods it was Savannah leaning over her and not the bounty hunter. “Thanks,” she said through coughs as she tried to hold her wound closed. It wouldn’t kill her but it definitely felt like she should be dead. Norma hated this part of nearly dying every time. “Ambulance. If you could,” she said with little explanation. She very much hoped this human wouldn’t ask for any. “Miracle. Yes. It is.” That would certainly suffice. “I’m very glad. I ran into you. Friend.” What a good day to make a friend, too. Maybe this town wasn’t so bad after all.

#paras #with: norma #gun use tw

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sagemoderocklee · 4 years

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Hello! For the meta asks, would you do 1, 5, 8, and 17?

you did not come to play, lilac! thanks for all these questions! <3

1. Tell us about your current project(s) – what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love most about it?

oh lord. that’s a... question. i have. so many current projects, i don’t even know where to start. this is gonna be long so please bear with me lol i’ll probably give more detail for some fics over others, and i’ll only go over fics I’ve got documents for because otherwise we’d be here forever.

The Art of Love: so this one is obvious because it’s been in progress for the last 2ish years? no i think it’s three now. I won’t go into detail with this because the fic is roughly halfway through, so there’s plenty of content for that up! I’d say the progress with that fic is actually going really well, though. Unlike Alliance, which took 8 years--five years of writing, three of editing--TAoL has been up for way less time, and is already about to hit the halfway mark! I really need to get back to it, tbh because it’s been way too long since my last update.

Honor Bound (sequel to Alliance): so this is.... kind of on pause. I’ve got the first three chapters written, but my focus has been more on TAoL when it comes to my more complicated, long running stories, so HB has taken a backseat. I think I won’t get back to working on the Allied Nations Saga until after TAoL is done, in all honesty.

Find Me: this is my HS AU, which has been on the back burner forever and I feel terrible because I think it may honestly be my most popular fic. Unfortunately, AUs/slice of life stuff is difficult for me because I’m more interested in politics, so I lost momentum on this fic. It is about halfway done. I have a good chunk of chapter six written, but not enough that I could say I’m close to finishing it.

It Eats Your Heart: obviously I just started this one, and it’s a horror fic. I’ve really gotta sit down and do some major plotting on it because I only have some very vague ideas currently.

Pearl-Filled Lungs: this is one of like three ningyo AUs I have--the other are pirate/ningyo AUs (and ones actually a selkie not a ningyo). I started it last year for the GaaLee fest, and it’s been sitting unfinished for far too long. I finally sat down recently and plotted the whole thing out, so I’m hoping to get back to working on it soon! It’s only 5 chapters in total, so I don’t think it’ll take me super long to get through once I sit down and do it.

Who Dares to Love Forever: This is a working title, and I may change it. This is a fic idea I’ve had for a couple years, inspired by the song Who Wants to Live Forever by Queen. This particular fic is a vehicle for my sage mode!rock lee headcanon, and explores just how effective Chiyo giving Gaara her life would have been given she was an old biddy. So the idea for this fic is that Gaara’s running out of time because Chiyo only had so much to offer.

Absolution: this is another fic that I’ve had on the back burner for years. it was initially inspired by art by @brianadoesotherjunk but quickly spiraled into something much bigger because of course it did. This particular fic is one I’m extremely excited about. I need to go back over the first part, because I feel like it’s not quite right, but I do technically have the first part done. This fic follows Gaara struggling with bouts of narcolepsy that trigger nightmares induced by trauma and guilt from his childhood. These nightmares are incredibly dangerous for obvious reasons, but even more so because Temari’s baby is on the way. Temari and Shikamaru are married, living in the Kazekage estate, and with their baby coming and both needing/wanting to get back to work, they also need a nanny. Unbeknownst to Gaara, the year prior to the events of the fic, Maito Gai died, succumbing to the 8th Gate finally, and Lee has since been spiraling. His depression has become so self-destructive that he’s been taken off active duty. Shikamaru, along with the rest of the Konoha 12 (minus Neji and Sasuke), get together and discuss what to do. Tenten believes that Lee being a nanny would be the perfect thing. And so Rock Lee is sent to Suna, hired by Shikamaru and Temari as their live-in nanny...

We Need Not Be Yellow Tulips in a Garden of Gardenia’s, Yet We Go the Way of the Red Camellia: true to form, I decided that a hanahaki fic was something I had to do, and I was not going to pass up the chance at being as Extra As Possible with the flowery language, ergo the ridiculous title. I’ve gotten part way through the first chapter of this fic, but the whole thing is roughly plotted out and each chapter title is just as extra as the whole fic’s title.

Thirteen Strokes: so this is a fic I have--once again--had on my mind for ages, and--once again, because I am nothing if not a caricature of myself--inspired by a Florence+the Machine song, All This and Heaven Too. I started writing this the other night, as I wanna use it for GaaLee bingo. It’ll be 13 chapters, as per the 13 strokes that it takes to make the character for love, ai, in Japanese. The fic is from Gaara’s PoV, and follows his journey with and his relationship to love, with lots of worldbuilding and politics because it wouldn’t be an Eeri Original without those things.

Scarification: this is another idea for bingo based around the prompt shinshoubyou, which is a fictional disease where your emotions cause physical marks on you

Fill in the [ ]: another bingo idea, based around the prompt bouaishoukoigun, the fictional disease where you forget the person you love if it’s unrequited.

The Eagle’s Augury: an idea that allows me to play around with more worldbuilding and focus on Karura. In this fic, the curse (mentioned briefly on the Naruto wikia) that has led to every single Kazekage being assassinated, is coming for Gaara, and Karura is trying to warn him from beyond the grave. At the same time, Temari and Shikamaru’s marriage is approaching, and their ceremony is being held in Suna, with all the fan fair a marriage for someone from the Kazekage line should see. Again, another fic inspired by Miss Florence+the Machine, the song is Mother

Pomegranate Sun: this is a fic that I am... so excited about. Another fic that was originally inspired by a Queen song, Under Pressure, and has of course taken on a life of its own. This fic, I am actually going to be writing with @ghoste-catte! It’s an arranged marriage trope, and I’m super pumped for it! We’ve only got a little bit started, and it has obviously not taken priority for either of us since we both have a lot of fics on our plates.

The Ballad of the Dragon and the Phoenix: this is a fic I’m really excited but is going to take a LOT of research to get off the ground. I had this idea sometime last year, I wanna say? This fic is another self-indulgent headcanon about Lee’s origins, his family, etc. This fic starts when Gaara shows up on Lee’s doorstep, asking him to accompany him to another country for reasons Lee cannot understand. Gaara has been in talks with Phoenix Kingdom, hoping to forge a new relationship only to find that the Emperor wants to use shinobi for militaristic purposes. Lee doesn’t understand what help he could possibly offer the Kazekage, but he can’t very well turn him down.

okay, i’m gonna stop there. these are the ones I have titles and documents for, and honestly that’s probably way more than you wanted to know about lol

5. What character that you’re writing do you most identify with?

Despite the fact that most of my fics end up from Gaara’s PoV, I actually identify with Lee the most!

8. Is what you like to write the same as what you like to read?

Yes! Which is hard to find, tbh, because I am a sucker for political dramas with slow burn romances, but I don’t see a lot of that in the GaaLee fandom. I’m not as into like slice of life or short stories where the characters get together quick, I’m really not into established relationship fics unless it’s a sequel, so I tend to avoid those. I like AUs but it really depends on the AU, because I ultimately prefer the canon and I love seeing the way people write the shinobi world and all its rules and cultures and things. I’m just a big fan of worldbuilding, politics, and slow slow burns. Not this 25k SLOW BURN! crap because that is NOT a slow burn. I wanna see a fic that’s 200k words in and they still haven’t even figured out they’re in love! I like stories I can really sink my teeth into, ya know?

17. Do you think readers perceive your work - or you - differently to you? What do you think would surprise your readers about your writing or your motivations?

Oh gosh. I generally don’t think too much about it except like hoping people don’t think I’m like a stuck up asshole because of how I talk about my writing, writing in general, my hcs, etc. I mean, obviously I don’t expect everyone in this fandom to like me--and there are ppl I’ve gone out of my way to be vocally against because they do nasty shit--but largely I feel like I come across as too intense, so even the general population of GaaLee fans that I do want to interact with I’m always a lil nervous that people secretly don’t like me and basically are like “oh god this bitch again” when they see me in the tags. But I just get really excited and invested in my ideas, and honestly for the longest time this fandom was SO small and there weren’t a lot of people putting out content regularly so it was like a handful of us so I think it made me more emphatic about GaaLee lol I think I always like assume people aren’t as excited about my writing as I am or that people are like “too much politic, i need more romance”.

I’m always surprised when people really love my AUs, like Kado or Find Me have had such fantastic reception, and it’s like people just eat that shit up so much. And then I look at like Alliance or Art of Love and get kind of confused because I think by comparison those are more interesting and more developed than my AUs. I put a shit ton of work into everything I write, especially anything that requires research, so it’s not to say that I do less work per say, just that I feel like TAoL and things like it are more interesting and more developed, and the relationship feels.... somehow more to me there than in an AU.

a lot of my motivation really just comes from the lack of content this fandom had for so many years, and the fact that Naruto could have been a much more interesting series and I love worldbuilding so much. I think my motivation for each fic is different though. Like Alliance was started because I wanted to write something different from what was mainly in the fandom at the time because mind you I started that in 2010. But my motivation for TAoL is more wanting to tell a beautiful story with a complex narrative that looks at the failings of the shinobi world. Whereas like any slice of life fic is really just meant to be a fun break. And sometimes I write something literally just because I wanted to fulfill that trope for the GaaLee fandom--again, a lot of my ideas have been sitting for years and years and years (TAoL was an idea I had literally right after starting Alliance, but I didn’t get to it until 2017), so a lot of ideas that are old are because at the time that trope hadn’t been fulfilled yet in the fandom though that’s changing a lot with the recent GaaLee Renaissance of the last couple years.

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sad-af1121 · 5 years

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Oh Baby Baby (One-shot)

Summary: You were having a hard time balancing work, home life, and a baby, causing you severe exhaustion so Bucky decides to look after the baby. Everything starts off smooth, but babies aren’t that easy to handle. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 1.4k Warnings: fluuuuff, language, cutenessss A/N: Hey lovelies! It feels great to be writing again! I am a bit slow rn bc I have to get back to the swing of things, but rest assured I hope to be writing more content (which I do have planned :’) With that said, please enjoy!! And a BIG thank you to @colonelconfusion for looking over this. Feedback is welcomed 💜 | Not my gif

Whoever told you postpartum fatigue was all in your head was a fucking liar. Ten rigorous hours of labor then having to endure delivery made you extremely exhausted and lifeless. The baby blues were at their peak but you made a priority to work with your new lifestyle than to struggle. The first two months of being a new mother were rough; you constantly made sure not to mess up with anything, especially now since you were taking care of a small human that you and Bucky created. Obviously, you two were aware that you learn as you go, but everything was just overwhelming for both of you. It felt like Bucky and you were either nursing, changing, or bouncing your baby girl to sleep every hour- a never-ending loop of parenthood. Don’t get it wrong though, every moment spent with your newborn was exciting and full of surprises. Bucky was smitten the first time he laid his eyes on her and vowed to keep her happy and loved- the same was true with the rest of her family, aka the Avengers.

Six months have passed now and things are slowly becoming second nature to you both. But coming back to work has taken its toll and exhaustion pulls your eyes closed whenever you are enjoying the peace of holding your child. You’d shake and stretch your limbs from feeling the fatigue all over again. Whenever the case got bad, Bucky would step in and take care of little Rosie so that you can get a few peaceful hours of rest. Calling it like a game of tag-teaming, punching your card in when you were ready, and punching it back out when you desperately needed a break.

“You sure, Buck? I can wait another hour if you want to watch your game,” you said, feeling the guilt residing in your stomach. But the deep grey bags under your eyes and slouched posture were enough evidence for Bucky to see how badly you needed rest.

“Yes, I’m positive. Rosie’s fed, changed and about to knock out- thanks to the boob,” he smirked, earning a huff of laughter from you. “I’ll have time to watch it on the DVR and catch up with the boys through texts. It's a win-win situation, babe” he assured, leaning in to place a soft kiss to your forehead.

A wave of relief washed over you, a deep sigh of content releasing afterward. “Fine. But wake me up in two hours, Bucky. Don’t let me oversleep. I’ve gotta make dinner and do the laundry too,” you emphasized. The stress was beginning to come back, making your palms sweat and your fatigue to deepen.

“Oh... kay, time to sleep,” he urged, carefully pushing you into your room. Pulling the covers back, you slid underneath the blanket and snuggled against Bucky’s pillow, rubbing the side of your face into the cloud-like object before slowly wandering to sleep. After checking to see if you had fallen asleep, Bucky quietly tip-toed out of the room, closing the door just slightly behind him.

“Phew,” Bucky breathed, looking down at his daughter who also managed to fall asleep in his arms. “Hmm, that was easy.”

About 45 minutes later, Bucky’s laid back in his chair with a bottle of beer in one hand and his phone in the other. He was able to sync the tv sound to his headphones so that there weren’t any loud sounds around the house that’d wake up his girls. And trust it, that was the last thing he wanted.

“Oh, eat my shorts, Parker!” He harshly whispered, sending a spider and shoe emoji to Peter in their group text. Unfortunately, Bucky’s team was behind a couple points, nothing too major for a loss, but enough for Clint, Peter, and Tony to make fun of.

Without realizing it, Bucky was loud enough for Rosie to hear and she woke up whimpering and upset. Her small wails were heard through the baby monitor and Bucky quickly paused the television and stilled. He grabbed the monitor and waited, hearing complete silence which resulted in his belief that she fell back to sleep. However, as he’s about to press play, Rosie lets out a loud cry, the sound echoing not only in her nursery but into the living room, too.

“Shit, shit.”

As if wild ducks were chasing him, Bucky rushed to the crib and carefully picked her up. “Daddy’s here, Rosie. Shhh, let's not cry that loud huh? See, I’m right here, baby girl,” he cooed softly, hoping the combination of bouncing her and talking would ease the crying. But it only made it worse.

Bucky was in full panic mode at this point.

No matter what he did, Rosie refused to stop. He tried feeding her, gave her a clean diaper, even played baby mozart- yet it wasn’t enough. Nothing was working. Copious amount of sweat began to build up everywhere as Bucky felt the pressure and panicked.

“Rosie, please for your old man’s sake, please stop crying,” Bucky whined, rubbing small circles on her back before taking a seat on the rocking chair. Right as he was about to lose hope and wake you up, he does the only and last thing he can think of at the moment; he started to fake cry like his baby.

With Rosie in his lap, he brought her face to face and continued to fake cry with her. “Please stop. C’mon buddy, your mama’s gonna kill me.”

As Bucky bawled dramatically, his facial features twist and turn into ugly expressions that capture Rosie’s attention. She quiets down as her tear-stained cheeks mold upwards to a grin before she erupts into giggles, throwing her hands together in happiness. Snapping his eyes open, Bucky chuckled breathlessly in relief, shaking his head with disbelief.

“I’m glad to know you find amusement in my death,” He smirked, blowing a strand of hair out from his face. Rosie cooes for a bit then snuggles in Bucky’s chest, grabbing a fist full of his shirt. He doesn’t pull her away because he soon notices she’s dozing off to sleep.

After all that, Bucky realized the baby just wanted his attention.

“God, she’s truly your daughter,” you said, leaning against the door frame. You nearly gave Bucky a heart attack, causing him to jump at your voice.

“Rude.”

You cross your arms over your chest, a smirk threatening to spread across your face, “Crying and whining when she wants attention? Definitely you, Barnes.” You said a matter of factly.

He pursed his lips and nodded, “I’m assuming you're ready to tag in now?” For your amusement, you grab a stuffed penguin from Rosie’s toy shelf and chuck it at Bucky’s head.

Biting his lip, Bucky nods and turns to look at you, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Permanent Taglist

@thatawkwardtinyperson @jezzula @plumfondler @atari-writes @angryschnauzer @badassbaker @papi-chulo-bucky @amrita31199 @cumonbucky @soldatbarnes @random-fandom-girl2000 @lostinspace33 @rda1989 @hello-sweetie-get-the-salt @melconnor2007 @feelmyroarrrr @iamsooooohappy @elaacreditava @broken-pieces @hardcollectiontrashworld @i-kneel-for-king-loki @hufflevirgoclaw @curvybihufflepuff @saharzek @chirsevans @cherrynat @palaiasaurus64 @secondsandstars @megs4real @isaxhorror @geeksareunique @negans-only-wife @titty-teetee @lxdyred @ssweet-empowerment @moonbeambucky @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @buckybarnesappreciationsociety @haru-ririchiyo @pvris-to-name-a-few @tchallaholla @notthegodofknives @easytransformations @topkay @charlie-theangel @queenofkings121 @ohsergeantmysergeant @sugardaddysebby @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @bisexual-buckyeet @legendaryshai-blog @harrybpoetry @llamaandi @isysen @one-big-dreamer @the-taylorjackson @notandreaaraiza @exura-san @81mysteriouslyme @sexy-sea-basss @petitemistletoes @the-meme-lord-mr-stan @toc1985 @chrsmom302 @piensa-bonito @sarahp879 @coal000 @awkwardfangirl2014

(strikethroughs are ones I cannot tag. If you would like to be on my tag list, please send me an ask!)

#bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky x reader fluff #sebastian stan #sebastian stan fic #marvel #marvel au #dad!bucky #dad!bucky barnes x reader #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #marvel fic

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heyyyharry · 5 years

Text

Chapter 16: Falling Like The Stars

(from the Flatmate Trilogy: Two Hearts, One Home)

…in which their best friends get married.

Word count: 6k

Chapter 15: 🎃 HALLOWEEN SPECIAL 🎃 Fright-day Night - Another Halloween treasure hunt.

Wattpad link

A/N:

- We're so close to the ending already! Grab some tissue and get ready to say goodbye to these beloved characters. The final chapter is called 'FLATMATE' and it comes out on November 6 😿

- After Flatmate, I will take some time off and return in December with a new series called The Conman And The Maid. Feel free to talk to me about it or ask me questions.

Listen as you read:

- when Layla walks down the aisle

- when Harry and Y/N slow dance

"Wanna do something bad?"

"Right here?"

Harry got a glare and a pillow thrown at him for that reply. "No! I'm going to meet Layla's parents this morning," Y/N said as she joined her husband on the couch. "The wedding is tonight. I have to make sure they'll be there."

"But wouldn't Layla be mad if she found out we were going behind her back?" His face contorted as he pondered.

"Yeah." She gave a half shrug, pursing her lips. "Layla is too proud to admit that she wants them to be there. I know she constantly says she hates them but I also know she doesn't really hate them, otherwise it wouldn't bother her so much that they might not come to her wedding."

Harry tossed his head back and heaved a sigh. "Well, should we at least tell Niall?"

"I already did." Y/N grinned. "He gave me their addresses."

"Wait, so we're just...going straight to their houses?"

"Yes?" She raised an eyebrow as her husband did the same. "What? You thought I was going to call them and formally invite them out for lunch?"

"Uh...yes?"

"Well, no. They would make excuses to say no like they did when their own daughter invited them to her wedding. We're going straight to their houses."

"I haven't even said I'd do it."

"You're doing it." She got to her feet and pulled him up by the arm. "We're in this together. For better or worse, remember?"

"This isn't what I meant when I said that!" Harry whined, but his wife had already thrown on her jacket and grabbed his car key.

"Either you go with me or you can't talk to Ria tonight."

"You're a monster," he gasped, making her giggle.

"That's just marriage, baby."

Layla's mother lived only an hour away from her so Y/N couldn't understand why she'd never come to visit her daughter. Y/N was not yet a mother herself, but she knew when Asteria grew up and finally went away to college, she wouldn't mind the distance to come visit her once in a while. But maybe not all mothers were the same. And sadly, not all mothers loved their children, either.

Y/N had never seen a photo of Layla's mum, and all the basic information she'd got was from her best friend's depressing stories about her problematic family. The woman's name was Maureen. She used to be an alcoholic, and now she was living alone and only occasionally drunk, or so Y/N hoped. The lady was sober when she answered the door, but it was easy to spot the empty bottles and packs of beer under the small eating table.

"Who the hell are you?" Maureen asked in an obnoxious tone. She had fair skin, dark brown hair, and light eyes similar to Layla's. She could be an older version of Layla if it was in an alternate universe where Layla didn't care about clothes or makeup or a healthy lifestyle.

"I'm Y/N and this is my husband, Harry. We're both friends of your daughter's," Y/N said cheerfully as she put on a smile, whereas Harry gave the woman the same frown she was giving them.

"My daughter?"

"Yes, ma'am." Y/N nodded. "Your daughter is getting married today and—"

"Why aren't you at the wedding?" Maureen cut her off, looking doubtful as she gripped the handle. Y/N was just waiting for her to slam the door in their faces, but gladly, she didn't.

"The wedding is tonight, actually. Um...I just came to make sure you were coming because—"

"Did she ask you to?" Once again, she didn't let Y/N finish. She seemed indifferent, so it was hard to tell how she really felt about this, or if she felt anything at all. She crossed her arms and leaned one shoulder against the doorframe, ready to have a conversation right there. Y/N didn't think it was rude, because why would she invite two complete strangers into her home?

"Did my daughter ask you to come here?" Maureen repeated the question when she didn't get an answer.

"No, ma'am," Y/N said.

Shaking her head, the older woman laughed. "Right, and I suppose you came all the way here because you felt bad for me?"

"No, I—"

"You seem like the type of person who loves sticking her nose in other people's business."

"Hey!" Harry stepped forward, a frown overtook his face. "Do not talk to my wife like that."

Y/N tugged at his arm as she told him to calm down, yet Maureen seemed very chill and indifferent to his attitude. Ignoring him, she went on with a sly smile, "I'm not going to the wedding. It's not like she wants me there."

"She does."

"Well, did she tell you that?"

"No, but—" Y/N bit her lip, but before she could continue, Maureen waved her off.

"My ex-husband would be there and the last thing I want to see is that son of a bitch's face."

"That's the problem," Harry finally spoke as he was too upset to remain silent. "Neither of you would come because you're both afraid of running into each other, but it shouldn't be about you. It's your daughter's big day and you should be there for her."

"The last time we met, she called me an embarrassment. I'm doing her a favor by not coming to her wedding."

"I know Layla," Y/N said, clenching her fists. "She doesn't express her feelings the way people expect her to. She says no when the answer is yes, and maybe when the answer is no. She's very unpredictable, but it's not so hard to read her mind once you've known her well enough."

Maureen scoffed as she looked down and pinched her forehead. "I don't need you strangers to lecture me on Layla. I'm her mother."

"Then start acting like one."

From Maureen's and Harry's reaction, Y/N knew neither of the two had expected someone with her personality to say something like that. But she didn't care. Mumbling, "have a nice day", she took Harry's hand and pulled him back to the lift.

Once the door had shut and the couple had left, Maureen was still standing at her front door.

Layla's father lived in a mansion that looked like a cutout from Architects Today magazine. It was one of those dream houses in which Y/N had imagined her, Harry and their two children living a few years from then, when they could afford that expensive life. They weren't poor now, but this place made them feel like they were.

Unlike Layla's mother, her father — Daniel Scott, or Dan, as he had asked them to call him, had invited the couple into his living room for tea as soon as he recognized Harry. Layla had taken Harry with her to lunch with her dad and his other family once, because Niall had been busy that day. However, Harry had hardly interacted with the man to say that he personally knew him.

"Believe me or not, Layla has never invited a friend over. Well, there was Niall, but they're getting married so it doesn't really count." Daniel laughed, shaking his head.

Y/N was slightly confused because this man wasn't at all how she'd imagined he would be. He was handsome for his age and he was also polite and calm, yet the image Layla had constructed in her head was this angry and selfish man who didn't give two shits about his family. But if there was one thing Y/N had learned from a thousand mistakes in the past, it would be not to draw a conclusion about someone you had just met five minutes ago.

"About the wedding," Y/N began as she put her teacup down on the coffee table, placing her hands back on her knees. "It's tonight, and we hope you can come to congratulate her."

"Layla has already told me about the wedding," said Dan. "Unfortunately, I cannot make it. I'm a very busy man and—"

"Sir, I know what it's like to be drowning in work and deadlines and thinking you don't have enough time for anything else," Harry cut him off. "But it all comes down to priorities. Don't you think it's worth it to put everything aside and celebrate this important day with your daughter? It's just one night."

As Dan pressed his lips into a smile and rubbed his palms together, Harry was hoping that the man would reconsider and change his mind. However, Dan's ringtone tore down the silence and he excused himself to go answer the phone.

"Do you think he'll say yes?" Y/N asked once he'd left the room.

"Hope so." Her husband lifted his shoulders in a half shrug. "I mean, he seems much easier to talk to than his ex-wife so—"

"Sorry, kids. I gotta go now. Duty calls," Dan told them as he walked in with the same big smile which had begun to freak Y/N out.

"But Layla's wedding—"

"I can just come to her next one," Dan said, causing both Harry and Y/N to drop their jaws, but their reactions seemed to mean nothing to him as he added, "I know my daughter, okay?"

No, you don't, Y/N thought to herself and rubbed Harry's shoulder as she spotted him giving Dan a black look.

"My butler will show you the way out. It's nice talking to the two of you."

Dan turned away as the butler showed up and asked them to come with him. Harry quickly followed the tiny man, but Y/N stayed when a young girl, who she assumed was about sixteen or seventeen, rushed down the stairs.

"Daddy, daddy!" she called Dan. "Mum is coming back from Milan tonight. Do you think we can go shopping together? I desperately need new clothes for school."

Dan pulled his daughter into a tight hug as he pressed his lips to her forehead and said, "of course, sweetheart. Anything for my little princess."

"Y/N!" Harry's voice got his wife's attention. When she looked back at him, she could tell by the look in his eyes that he knew what she was thinking of. She walked up to him and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders as they followed the butler out of there. "It's okay," Harry whispered. "Layla would be better off without them."

"So this is what it feels like to be invited to the royal wedding."

Y/N gave her husband a nudge and waved hello to another wedding guest she recognized. Layla spent too much time with her and Harry that sometimes she forgot how popular her best friend was. After all, she was Layla Scott. She was born to receive attention, just not always the kind she would value. So the more she got, the more she craved. Y/N supposed some guests here today hadn't come because they cared about Layla, they'd come because it was her wedding. It was every high school in movies. People voted the most popular girl for Prom Queen, not because they liked her, but because she was cool. That was how Layla had remained 'the popular girl' ever since she could walk, but it wasn't until she got to college that she learned what it was like to have real friends.

It was thirty minutes before the ceremony and Y/N was asked to go check on Layla. Nobody knew what had happened, but the bride had locked herself in her dressing room and everyone that was part of the wedding planning was freaking out.

"Layla?" Y/N knocked on the door as the other bridesmaids gathered around her. "Layla, is everything okay? It's Y/N."

"Come in. Just you."

With a turning stomach, Y/N asked one girl to go outside just in case something happened and they needed someone to reassure the guests. Then, she turned the doorknob and entered the room.

Layla was sitting in her wedding dress with her phone in her hands. Though it wasn't from personal experience, Y/N had heard about some brides having a mental breakdown right before their wedding. It was understandable. The thought of starting a new life with a new identity could be overwhelming. So when Layla looked up at Y/N with her glassy eyes, Y/N assumed her best friend was going through the same thing.

"My father posted a photo of him at dinner with his other family," Layla said, proving her wrong. "He's with them on my wedding day."

Not knowing how to respond, Y/N chose silence as she stood against the door with her hands behind her back, and started second-guessing what her best friend might say next.

"That asshole..." Layla scoffed as she shook her head. "I hate him. I fucking hate him! I-I don't know why I even expected that he would show up tonight. I knew he wouldn't. So why am I still disappointed? Like...God, I...Do you know that he didn't come to my high school graduation because he was in Bali with that whore that's now my stepmother?"

Y/N silently shook her head.

Layla's parents hadn't come to her university graduation either. Niall had told Y/N and Harry not to ask Layla why, because it would only upset her. But now Y/N knew even when nobody brought up her family issues, it would upset her anyway. Her terrible parents would always matter to her despite how many times and how much she'd said she hated them.

"And my mum is always drunk." Layla released a harsh sigh. "It'd be a miracle if she could get her ass off the couch let alone attend my graduation or wedding."

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Y/N said as she stepped forward and pulled a chair to sit down in front of the bride, who lifted her face as Y/N squeezed her hands. "This is your big day. So if your parents would rather be anywhere else but here, then it's their loss. You don't need them. I mean—Your entire family is already here. You have Harry, Lou, Liam, and Trix, and you have me. And Niall is probably freaking out right now because he cannot wait to start this new life with you."

Layla scoffed and rolled her eyes. "And Harry's probably trying to help but he's only making it worse. Those idiots."

"True." Y/N nodded as they both giggled. "And...this will be Asteria's first wedding experience. Wanna feel her?"

Layla nodded and let Y/N guide her hand to her baby bump. "Oh my God!" she exclaimed, her eyes lit up. "She's moving!"

"Yup, I think she's very excited." Y/N beamed. "Who needs your shitty parents when you have a big family who will support you no matter what, right?"

This time, when Layla teared up, Y/N knew she was happy. She squeezed Y/N into a hug before pulling away and her expression hardened.

"Let's do this," she said. "Let's go out there and lower everyone's self-esteem by being the hottest people in the room."

"And she's back!" Y/N chuckled as she helped Layla get up and straighten her dress. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

"Be right there!" Layla shouted to the person, who replied immediately.

"Layla, it's me. Your mother."

The bride crossed her arms and laughed slightly, but then she saw the look on her best friend's face, and that was how she knew it was real. Without saying a word, she bolted to the door. The second between the moment she turned the doorknob and pulled the door open, fear was rising inside of her as she didn't want to make a fool out of herself by falling for one of her evil cousins' pranks. But she wasn't wrong. It really was her mother.

Y/N tilted her head to see the woman, yet she still couldn't believe in her own eyes. Maureen looked far different from how she had earlier that day. She looked put together, with her makeup and hair done, a classy dark blue dress that fit her so well and a pair of high heels. Now she looked like the woman Layla would one day become.

As Layla was still speechless, Maureen gasped as she eyed her daughter from head to toes. "Wow, you look—"

"What are you doing here?" Layla cut her off fast. The question took her by surprise, but she managed to keep her composure.

"I'm here to walk my daughter down the aisle," she said. "Well, only if she allows me to..."

Y/N was fidgeting with her own hands, her lips pressed tightly together. It was so awkward to be present while those two were having a mother-daughter moment, but she knew it'd be more awkward if she asked to leave. Besides, she needed to make sure Maureen wouldn't say something that would break Layla's heart.

Not getting a response, the mother continued, "I know I haven't always been there for you, and after talking to your friend here—"

Layla shot Y/N a questioning look, and the bridesmaid could only answer with an apologetic smile.

"—I realized that when I got a chance to be a better person, a better mother, then I shouldn't let it go to waste. That's why I'm here. I hope it's not too late to be there for you."

Y/N had a feeling if Layla remained silent, Maureen would burst into tears. Fortunately, she never got to find out if it was true. When her mother finished, Layla took a deep breath and began right away, "I was six when I came home and found you unconscious on the kitchen floor." Her voice trembled even when her head was held high. "I thought you were dead. I was so scared. They took you to the hospital and...later on, I heard from grandma that you'd drank too much that you'd passed out. I was six years old, mum. Who the fuck let their six-year-old daughter see them like that?"

Maureen opened her mouth to speak but Layla didn't let her. "When I was sixteen, I won a beauty pageant. I wanted to feel proud of myself because I'd accomplished something even if it was small, but that night I ended up crying all the way home because the other girls' parents were there, and mine were not."

Y/N's eyes fell to the floor as she sighed into her palm. Her chest felt stiff and heavy, but she believed it wasn't half as bad as how Maureen must have felt then.

Layla swallowed hard and wetted her lip as she carried on, "I'm going to turn twenty-six soon. So...here's your chance to be a part of my happiness for once. Now fix your makeup. You're not walking me down the aisle with smudged mascara."

Maureen's eyes gleamed as she heard those words. She pulled her daughter into an unexpected hug, and even though Layla's arms stayed glued to her sides, Y/N could tell she was also very happy.

The bridesmaid let go of a sigh of relief as she clasped her hands together and pressed them to her chest. But her elation faded as soon as the bride turned back to look at her. She assumed she was in trouble for going to see Maureen behind Layla's back. However, what she got was a "thank you" and the brightest beam she'd ever seen on her best friend.

"I love you," Maureen told her daughter. "I rarely said it. But I do. And from now on, I will do my best to prove it."

"Well, I also don't hate you." Layla's response caused Y/N to giggle and Maureen to widen her eyes. "Sorry." The bride chuckled. "Baby steps."

It was a few minutes before the ceremony. The guests were already in their seats as the exuberant chatter and laughter contributed to the ecstatic atmosphere. Y/N was waiting in her position on the other side of the closed double doors as she would be the first bridesmaid to make an entrance. Knowing she was nervous, Harry stayed with her as they waited for the ceremony to begin. He held her close as if he hadn't seen her in years and mumbled, "I missed you" into her hair.

"I was gone for a minute." She scoffed.

"The longest minute ever!" he exclaimed.

Clicking her tongue, Y/N pulled back to adjust his tie. Harry cocked his head to kiss her mouth, but she dodged his kiss and warned him not to smudge her red lipstick...again.

"So I was with Layla." She tugged at his collar and smoothed down the jacket of his suit. "She was having a mini-breakdown because she found out her dad was with his other family tonight. I comforted her, and guess what?"

"What?"

"Her mother showed up."

Harry stilled. "Like...her actual mother?"

The look on his face cracked her up as she nodded fast. "Yes. But don't worry, she was sober."

"What about her father?" Harry asked, and she only gave him a shrug. "Oh well, who needs a father like that, anyway? I'm glad she's okay now."

"She seemed very happy. Good for her," Y/N said, biting her lip and batting her lashes at him. "Not everyone is as lucky as baby Ria. She's got such an amazing father."

Smirking, Harry brought his hands up to stroke Y/N's bottom lip with his thumb. "Don't look at me like that, or I'll have to take you somewhere else and make another baby."

"Is that how you dirty talk now that you're a dad?" She raised a brow, hands on his chest.

"Does it work?" He licked his lip. "Does daddy make you wet already?" As he lowered his head to kiss her cheek, he remembered something and jerked away. "Holy shit, Ria can hear us!"

The genuine terrified look he'd got had his wife cackling. Y/N had to reassure him, "she doesn't understand us."

"I think she also heard me fuck you last night. What if it traumatizes her?"

"Harry—"

"What if I accidentally poke her with my dick?! Oh my God!"

"Baby." Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose, frustrated, but at the same time, amused by how it'd taken him a whole day later to start worrying. "For the hundredth time, your dick isn't that long."

"Heyyyyyyyy! It's long."

"What's long?"

Gemma's voice caused the couple to jump and Harry blurted out, "the line in Starbucks this morning!"

Y/N was in hysterics when Gemma squinted her eyes at him. "Okay, weirdo. Get back in there. We're about to start," she said and jerked her head toward the door, making him groan like a little boy who was forced to go to bed early.

The couple exchanged a few more cheek and forehead kisses and then Harry snuck back into the room to join the other groomsmen at the altar. The guests began to quiet down as a romantic piece of orchestral music began to play, and the double door opened in front of Y/N. Shoulders back, chin up, she strutted down the aisle, holding the bouquet close to her chest as all eyes fell on her. But as always, Harry was all she could see.

The floor was covered in rose petals, and the music made it feel like she was floating to heaven. Somewhere in the crowded room, someone (possibly Trix) exclaimed, "aww, Harry's crying!" And she saw her husband put on a bashful smile as blood rushed right up to his face. He sucked in a shaky breath but his eyes remained on her. Y/N didn't know it was possible to fall in love with the same person over and over again, but this man had proven her wrong.

Once all the bridesmaid had stood in a line at the altar, mirroring the groomsmen on the opposite side, the music built up to the epic climax as Layla entered the room with her mother by her side. She was the center of attention like she always was, but she had never seemed more unbothered by her surroundings than she was now. She held eye contact with Niall, who had to wipe his own tears with the back of his hand.

The wedding ceremony was formal and flawless, since Layla had made sure they'd rehearsed it at least ten times before that day. But Niall, being Niall, had to include some silly jokes in his vows and high-fived Harry when the audience roared with laughter and his bride gave him a warning glare.

Time seemed to slow down for the exchange of rings, and when the preacher pronounced Niall and Layla husband and wife, Y/N was looking at Harry. Somewhere inside her head, she could hear the voice of the narrator saying, "and they lived happily ever after" like an epic ending of a Disney movie. She felt like her heart might just combust with pure delight.

"I love you so much," Harry mouthed to her when the glitter fell on top of them like snow and the crowd roared to congratulate the newlyweds.

"I love you more," she mouthed back to him, knowing he could hear those words loud and clear in the back of his mind.

Y/N and Harry were asked to give a speech at the wedding reception. It wasn't a problem for an extrovert like Harry, but Y/N felt like she'd spent her whole life practicing public speaking just for this day. She was terrible at it. If Harry hadn't been there to hold her hand, maybe she would've stuttered or bitten her tongue off, or even worse — burst into tears in the middle of the speech and never got to finish it at all. She thought she'd done a good job.

She'd cracked some jokes about Layla's obsession with wedding flowers and cutlery and made the wedding guests laugh. But she also saw some guests wipe off their tears when she talked about how much Layla meant to her.

"You're my best friend, my older and younger sister, my overprotective mum, and my grumpy aunt, all in one. You're one of the best things that have happened to me, and I hope you'll always be happy like this. But if there are times that you're not, I'll always be there for you."

As the crowd cheered and raised their glasses and Layla stood up to applaud her best friend, Niall turned to Harry, eyebrows furrowed. "You said like two sentences about me!"

"Technically, Y/N also said two sentences about Layla. Hers were just longer than mine," Harry argued, and Niall almost pushed him off his chair for that answer.

The wedding reception started out as a lovely and formal dinner, but afterward, it turned into a frat party with everyone being drunk and dancing like mad. Niall was carrying Layla around on his shoulders while Louis and Liam were dancing on tabletops. Gemma was taking shots with Jack and Olivia, who was there as his plus one. Ben and Nam were snogging in the corner of the room. Meanwhile, Trix had made a new friend named Alice, and the girl was so wasted she kept following Harry around and telling him how much she liked his new movie. It was a scene of madness, the good kind. But eventually, everyone settled down for a slow dance.

Harry and Y/N were sitting at their table, holding hands, when Layla and Niall came up to them and suggested that they switched partners for this song.

"Okay, but be careful! Do not spin or lift my wife up!" Harry warned his best friend, who gave him a thumb up as he led Y/N to the middle of the room and left Harry with Layla.

Turning back to the bride, Harry said, "shall we?" And Layla rolled her eyes and placed her hands on top of his.

Dancing wasn't Harry's strong suit and he knew Layla was good at it, so he kept staring at his feet to make sure he wouldn't step on hers.

"You're not performing surgery, you dumbass," she said, snickering at how he was panting.

"Shut up, I'm trying not to step on your feet!"

"God, how did Y/N fall for you?"

"I have a similar question for Niall."

The bride leered at him as she snorted and shook her head. She seemed a lot chiller than usual, probably because it was her wedding, but Harry thought it was weird to not have her insult him for everything that came out of his mouth.

"Look," Layla trailed off after clearing her throat. "Thank you for what you guys did for me."

"You mean coming to see your parents? That was Y/N's idea, I just—"

"She told me that you told Dan to choose me over his job," Layla cut him off. "It wasn't his choice in the end, but thank you for trying to change his mind."

Harry shook his head as he chuckled. "No problem. I know what it's like to have a terrible dad so..."

"Devlin loves you, he's just bad at showing it. I suppose Dan is also good at being a dad, just...just not mine."

Though Layla had said it with a tone of humor, she was never good at hiding how she was feeling inside, just like Harry. To say she had no common at all with him would be incorrect, because they were more alike than anyone could imagine. That was probably the reason they'd stayed friends for so long, not only because of Niall and Y/N.

"You'll go back to mistreating me after tonight, right?" he asked, making her laugh.

"Yeah, you're making it hard for me not to that right now," she joked as her nose stuck up. "And since everything will go back to normal tomorrow. Listen carefully because I won't repeat this."

"Okay."

"Okay, so...I know that I'm a bit mean to you sometimes—"

"Sometimes?"

"Fine! Very often." She rolled her eyes and Harry's dimples appeared as he told her to continue.

"But to me, you're like...like a...brother...a big brother, and um..." Layla stuttered like a baby just learning to talk. Every word came out with such difficulty that Harry had to press his lips together so he wouldn't laugh and have her yell at him. She tapped her fingers on his shoulders now that they had stopped swaying to the music. Eye contact suddenly became so hard for someone as confident as her.

"And...um...yeah...I-I love you."

"What did you say?"

"You're like a—"

"No, the second part." Harry looked dead serious as he turned his ear to her face and pointed at it. "I have hearing issues, you gotta speak louder—Ouch!"

Layla hit him again, harder this time as he jumped away and put his palms up. "I thought you said you loved me!"

"Tough love is still love," she told him with a massive grin. But he knew she wasn't lying. Tough love was still love, at least to Layla.

I swear to God, when I come home I'm going to hold you so close I swear to God, when I come home I'll never let go

Another song came on, and Layla returned to Niall so Y/N could dance with her husband for the first time that night.

Like a river, I flow To the ocean, I know You pull me close, guiding me home

"It's been a while since we last danced like this," she said, placing her hands on his neck as he pulled her in by the hips.

"Don't worry, ma'am. Your partner is a professional."

The smug look on his face earned him her gorgeous smile as she scrunched up her nose. "You can't beat my previous partner. Niall was really good. Layla made him take a two-week dance class for the wedding."

"Psst, who needs a dance class when you can just learn from your own experience? Now shut up and dance with me!"

The song reference cracked her up and so she pulled his face down to kiss him again and again, until they both got lost in their world and all the other people faded away.

I swear to God, I can see Four kids and no sleep We'll have one on each knee, you and me

And when they've grown up You're still the girl in the club When I held your hair up, 'cause you had too much

"What?" Harry stopped singing as he pulled back and arched an eyebrow at his wife. She lifted her head from his chest, giggling at him. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," she whispered. "I just love to hear you sing."

"I sing to you and Ria every night though. Thought you were tired of my voice already."

"No, I love your voice." She pulled his face down so their foreheads touched. "The first time you sang to me, we were also slow dancing at a wedding, remember?"

"How could I forget? You remind me all the time." Harry chuckled and pecked her lips. "That was also the first time I'd sung to someone other than myself."

"Glad to be that someone."

"Glad that you were that someone," he said and tapped her slightly on the nose.

And I need you to know that we're fallin' so fast We're fallin' like the stars, fallin' in love And I'm not scared to say those words with you, I'm safe We're fallin' like the stars, we're fallin' in love

The music took over their conversation for what seemed like forever. Harry raked his fingers through his hair, looking at the other couples dancing around them before turning back to Y/N and said, "I'm a bit drunk and this might sound cheesy as fuck, but..." He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes. "I'm so thankful that of all the people on this planet, I got to fall in love with you."

"Aww. So am I, baby. So am I."

When Y/N leaned in, he cocked his head to the side, pouting and not letting her kiss him because he hadn't finished expressing his love.

"I keep thinking about all the years I've spent with you," he said. "From the day I first met you, to the night I confessed my feelings for you, to the first time we made love, to our wedding, and to this moment right now. It seems like it was yesterday that I was rambling on with Niall about this annoying girl who was about to be my flatmate, and now she's six-month pregnant with my baby." He breathed out a quiet laugh. "Maybe next year or a few years from now, when I look back at this moment tonight, we'll be expecting our second one. Maybe Jasper?"

"You just knocked me up six months ago, Harry!"

"Shhh! I'm just drawing up a plan in my head! Don't ruin it!" He covered her mouth with one hand to stop her from interrupting him. She was shaking with muffled laughter as he went on, "and maybe Asteria could be a bridesmaid at Gemma's wedding. Get it? Because Gemma would be so oldddddd."

Y/N gasped. "You're lucky she didn't hear you say that!"

"I trust you not to tell her. That's why we're married. It's all about trust." Smirking, he continued, "then one day, we'll be at our daughter's wedding or maybe our son's. And I'll still step on your feet as we dance like this and embarrass them with our terrible moves. Then many years later, at our grandchildren's weddings, I'll be dancing with you again, but I might need a stick, or maybe we'll be in our wheelchairs wheeling around to one of the songs that are too loud for us but the kids think it's cool."

"What if we're the cool grandparents who keep up with trends and actually enjoy those songs?"

"Don't expect too much from me, I hate most of the music today and I live in today."

Y/N dissolved in laughter as she pressed a kiss to his chin and circled her arms around his waist, her eyes closed and chin on his shoulder. Now she couldn't stop imagining them being eighty years old and slow dancing in their bedroom to one of the old songs playing on the radio.

"I love you," she told him for at least the twentieth time that night, "don't you ever forget that, baby. You're my whole world. "

"And you are mine." He lowered his head to kiss her neck and whispered those three words to her again and again.

Oh, I'm in love Oh, I'm in love Oh, I'm in love

#flatmate!harry

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zukuthehero · 4 years

Text

Chapter Four- Recovery

Chapter One || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter || AO3

Tsukauchi POV

Tsukauchi grimaced, shifting slightly in his seat. They were all gathering in the meeting room to go over the report Orochi gave them.

Nedzu, All Might, and Midnight were there for UA. Plus, Endeavor and Hawks for the heroes and public safety commission. And, of course, the detectives on the case like him. It was slightly awkward to have Nighteye there as well since he and All Might were very pointedly not looking at each other.

Oh well, they could deal with their awkward breakup another time. Right now, he needed to go over the report.

“Thank you all for coming, I have Orochi’s analysis of the being known as Nomu here for us to go over.”

Tsukauchi swallowed and studied the crowd, they all seemed attentive.

“Alright. So first, they listed the likely quirks the Nomu had.”

“QuirkS?” questioned endeavor, leaning forward suddenly.

“Yes, quirks, it was reported that the Nomu had at least two. Though Orochi lists more. Now then,” Tsukauchi cleared his throat again, “Quirks, Regeneration and Shock Absorption, which we already knew about.”

“How was it defeated then!?” Called one of the detectives.

Looks like this would be slow going.

“I defeated it!” Boomed All Might.

“Yes, he did, now moving on. A speed quirk and strength quirk are also listed, apparently the muscle mass and physique of Nomu didn’t account for the strength and speed it displayed. So, it is extremely likely it had those as well.”

“Speed and strength and regeneration and shock absorption!?” Midnight said in shock.

“Then there was also a high likelihood of some sort of energizing quirk, based on how much energy and strength it had despite the beating it received. As well as something to enhance the regeneration, it worked to fast to be just a normal regeneration quirk apparently.”

“Oh wow,” muttered Hawks

“Then finally the last quirk that Orochi can confidently believe is there is some sort of mental quirk that connects Nomu to the villain in charge, Shigaraki. The explanation given is that the Nomu reacted to Shigaraki without him having to speak or make any kind of motion. It’s likely the Nomu is almost entirely brain dead and relies on orders from Shigaraki to act in any way.”

“That’s… bad.”

“An interesting situation,” murmured Nedzu, his eyes gleaming dangerously.

No doubt he had a dozen plans made for this now.

“The big threat I see,” Nedzu started to speak, “Is them either breaking this Nomu out, or them turning someone else into one. Plus, are these quirks natural? As in, were they somehow taken from someone? Or did they somehow figure out how to manufacture quirks?”

There was a beat of silence, Tsukauchi swallowed. That was…

“They found DNA from four different people in the make up of Nomu,” pointed out one of the detectives, “So it’s likely that they used… well… that they used people’s parts to make the Nomu. So probably natural quirks.”

Silence reigned again, that wasn’t much better.

“So basically, they tore people apart to make a super weapon?” Hawks questioned casually. But his wings were ruffled, and he was sitting straight in his chair.

“It appears so.”

“Did Orochi give any ideas for countering the Nomu? In case it escapes, or they happen to have another?”

Tsukauchi nodded. “Top suggestion, assuming it is this Nomu, or that any threat has the same quirks, would be to burn it. Burning it at high enough temperature will prevent regeneration. Assuming it doesn’t have some sort of fire-resistant quirk. Next best suggestion is to go for the head, brain or eyes, they’ll be the most vulnerable.”

“Lovely,” Endeavor grumbled, “Looks like I’ll be the one in charge if there’s another one of these.”

“Well, sounds fun,” Hawks smiled, “Hopefully there aren’t any more of these things though.”

“We all hope that.”

“What about the other villains we captured?” Midnight questioned.

“Ah, it appears the warp villain managed to get quite a few out before we could question them. We only managed to question a few before they were all gone.”

“They all escaped!?” All Might stared wide eyed.

“Yes. That warp villain, Kurogiri, might just be the most dangerous. We don’t know his limits. We sent another request to Orochi already to analysis him and Shigaraki, but apparently it’s not high priority or interest like the Nomu so it might be a bit till we get a full report.”

“Fuck. That’s not good.” The detective that said that sunk down in her seat.

“Did we learn anything before the escape?”

“The low-level villains knew basically nothing. They knew where to attack and had orders on what to do. But the whole plan just seemed to rely on the Nomu. Otherwise they were basically going in blind. One of them might have had better info, but unfortunately we don’t know.”

“Damn it.” Endeavor looked pissed.

“Well, if the villains are freed, what are we going to do? They might attack again!”

Nedzu frowned, “We are still planning on having the Sports Festival and-“

“You’re still planning on that festival when the villains just killed one of your students!?”

“Yes, it is important for both moral, and to show the villains they haven’t won. We are not ignoring our loss. We are not forgetting Mineta’s death. But we cannot put everything on hold. The police can help with security, and the festival itself will be filled with pros. It would be idiotic to attack, they’d be defeated in seconds.”

“Well… You’re not wrong there.” The detective frowned still.

Tsukauchi sighed, “It all seems to be in order at least. You’ll have to give us an outline of your security measures so we can be sure that they’re safe, but otherwise I’m sure the festival can continue.”

Nedzu nodded, “We will likely postpone it, I have to talk to the other teachers first. And we will need to discuss with class 1-A, they were the ones attacked and their opinions are important.”

“Makes sense.”

The other detectives murmured in agreement as well, seeming to accept this.

“How are the students?”

“We are giving them the week off, and all of them will be required to speak with Hound Dog when classes resume, a schedule for those meetings will be made during the teachers meeting after this. We take the safety and health of our students very seriously, you can rest assured that we won’t allow something like this to happen again.”

Tsukauchi hummed, “Will there be a press release?”

“Yes, one is scheduled for tomorrow.” Nedzu smiled politely, “If that is all?”

“Yeah, thanks for coming everyone, keep your eyes open. Catching those villains again is high priority, we need more information. Otherwise, stay safe, I’ll see you another time.”

And the meeting closed, the heroes and police drifting off.

Well, that wasn’t stressful at all.

Nedzu POV

The teachers filed into the room, Nedzu watching closely.

They had a lot to discuss.

“Okay, now that we’re all here, except Aizawa and Thirteen, we can begin.”

“How are Aizawa and Thirteen?” Questioned Mic immediately.

“They are both recovering well and should fully recovered within a month.

The teachers murmured, relieved and happy.

“Now then, we are all aware of the death of the student Mineta Minoru.”

The teachers grimaced, looking away.

“We will hold a memorial for him on Monday when Class 1-A resumes their classes. It is always a sad day to lose a student and we will mourn him appropriately.”

The other teachers nodded, gazes lowered, a kid so young… it was very sad.

“Class 1-A will be required to speak with Hound Dog. We’ll need to arrange a schedule. But Asui and Midoriya will be going first. They were the one’s to witness Mineta’s death.”

Mic grimaced, “That’s no good.”

Lunch Rush nodded, “Are they okay?”

“Midoriya had broken legs and but they were healed quickly and he’s in full health again. Asui was unharmed.”

They relaxed, “That’s good,” murmured Mic. “Poor little listeners.”

“Now then, we can arrange the schedule later, Aizawa will probably know best which students will need aid sooner.”

A general murmur of agreement moved the conversation onwards.

“Next up is the Sports Festival. I would like to have it.”

“Isn’t it dangerous?” Power Loader leaned forward, “It’ll a big event, the villains could try to slip in and cause trouble.”

“Yes, that’s true, but we must not let them believe us beaten. I think delaying it two weeks and increasing security will make it safe enough. Not to mention that the event will be filled with pros, anyone attacking would be handled quickly.”

Mic nodded, “That’s true.”

Lunch Rush sighed, “I just wish the kids hadn’t been put through that whole mess. Will they feel safe?”

“We will ask for their opinion.” Nedzu nodded firmly, “They can decide between three options, cancelling the Sports Festival entirely, letting it go on but them not participating, or it goes on with their full participation. We will not force them to participate if it makes their trauma worse.”

Midnight nodded, “The kids will hopefully have recovered a lot by that point. We’ll get them the help they need!”

“Are we going to increase security?” Asked Vlad King.

Recovery Girl nodded, “We need to make sure the students are completely safe!”

“I have had an idea for a while, but it would be best to put it into effect next semester, this one has already started.”

All Might leaned forward, “What idea?”

“Dorms. But as I said, the semester has already started. So we will add it next semester and can discuss it in more detail later on.”

Snipe sighed, “seems like the kids will be safe enough at least. What’s the worst that could happen between now and then?”

Katsuki POV

Katsuki punched the bag.

He was furious! He barely did anything and got put in danger. Worse than useless.

And that stupid Deku did more than him. How infuriating. Weak useless deku managed to help more than him.

And that villain, calling him names like that! Insulting him! The nerve! He acted like he was lecturing all of them. How dare he.

And Deku, did he think he was better than him? Just because he helped more? Well screw him, Bakugo would show him, Deku just needed to be put back in his place.

He punched the bag again with a cry.

He could do this. He was the best, no one could beat him. He’d be the greatest hero ever, even with this stupid villain attack, and their stupid classmate dy-dying. Nothing would stop him.

Shoto POV

Shoto sat silently in his room, reading through articles about the attack.

He had been there, but reading the official reports helped him figure everything out.

Like Mineta dying.

He hadn’t liked him, but dying… that was extreme.

He wished he’d been able to help.

And Midoriya and Asui…

They’d both seen it, been right there. It must have been traumatizing.

And his quirk, Shoto had thought so before, but seeing it now, it was so similar to All Might’s.

He wondered at the flinches the boy gave, the way he shied away from touch, jumped at loud noises, seemed to immediately obey All Might.

The quirk… the reactions… was Midoriya… Was he… was he All Might’s son?

It would make sense, their quirk is so similar, Midoriya emulates him, seeing them together, All Might’s quirk and Midoriya’s quirk. Maybe Midoriya isn’t good at using it yet? Like how his older brother could get burnt by his own flames?

Was All Might cruel to him for it? Shoto didn’t want to think so…. And yet. And yet Midoriya was so… nervous constantly. Always flinching, or moving away, stuttering. He seemed so afraid. Shoto had a feeling the two of them were the same.

All Might might be keeping his son hidden, but Shoto had discovered the truth.

He just wished it hadn’t cost a classmate their life.

Tsuyu POV

Tsu curled in her bed.

She was still shaking.

That villain, he’d killed Mineta without a second thought. Without hesitation.

And he’d called Midoriya Otouto?

Why? Why did he stop for Midoriya, but not for Mineta?

And all those lectures, and Mineta died, and he just acted like he was trying to teach all of them a lesson. But he kept looking at Midoriya.

And Mineta died.

Tsu needed to be there for Midoriya now. That villain knew him, Tsu was worried for him.

He definitely didn’t know the villain, and the villain’s reaction… he hadn’t expected Midoriya to be there either.

Tsu couldn’t understand, he knew Midoriya, those lectures about heroes, he’d acted like he was going to kill Midoriya at the end, but the look on his face, Tsu could just see it. It was focused, determined, but not blood thirsty like it was for All Might or Mineta.

It was… protective.

Otouto.

Who was Shigaraki Tomura?

Aizawa POV

Aizawa read through the report, the USJ incident was a wreck.

So many students endangered. And worse, one student dead.

And it was all his fault.

Damn it. He should’ve been able to protect them! But he’d failed.

That Nomu apparently almost beat All Might, which did help a little, Aizawa hadn’t stood a chance.

But still.

He read through the report. The injuries his students sustained, every scratch, every bruise, it was all his fault.

The single death.

He’d tried, oh he’d tried, tried so hard to save them. He thought he’d managed. He thought he’d succeeded. But Mineta was still killed.

Mineta was unpleasant, but Aizawa had had hopes of helping him, he had so much potential. And now he was dead. And it was Aizawa’s fault.

He wouldn’t let it happen again.

He would protect his students till the last breath left his body.

They wouldn’t have to be afraid like that again.

He glanced at the flowers, from All Might according to the note.

He sighed, going back to the report.

Midoriya was the worst injured of the students, but from his own quirk. According to the report, he’d probably saved All Might’s life.

He shouldn’t have had too, the student’s shouldn’t be the ones saving them.

He dropped his head back. He would train them hard, they would be the best, he wouldn’t let them slack.

His students were going to go through hell, but they would be the best of the best when they came out. And that was all that mattered.

Izuku POV

Izuku yawned, blinked the sleep out of his eyes.

He noticed his Nintendo on the bed and winced, realizing he’d fallen asleep playing his new Pokemon game. He’d only been raising the level and capturing new Pokemon, he’d head to the first gym later.

He had today off too. He actually had another two days after today too.

Today was focusing on fighting styles. He’d read up on some before, but now he was gonna find a focus.

He also needed to go over first aid more, so thank you dad for the helpful books, he’d definitely be using them.

Before he started he grabbed some food, then snagged the books, including his notebooks.

Researching fighting styles was nothing new, he’d done it loads of times in the past, and had considered some for him. But he’d just dropped them when he’d gained his new quirk.

Now he needed to get back to it.

Which started his hour-long research section where he arranged all his old notes in order, then added to it. Krav Maga was the one he’d practiced before, it worked best for him, especially when he was quirkless. Now he would have to adjust the style he’d been beginning to form to fit with his quirk too. But he could really work on that in class.

He was good at mimicking other fighting styles, he’d done it with Kacchan before. He could mimic other fighting styles; his right now was really really similar to All Might’s.

He couldn’t keep doing that, it was too obvious. He needed to be more discrete.

Plus… Superpower wouldn’t work anymore. He needed a better name that would encompass what he’s trying to do.

He wants to enhance his strength, to use the power to do more than just grow strong…

Enhance… Enhancement? That sounds good, and should be a good cover for any future adjustments he makes…

Yeah, he’d have to go change that over the weekend. Enhancement sounded better, and he could say it enhances him mentally too! That would give the idea that his quirk had just been really subtle before, that’s… actually a great idea. Why does he always get the best ideas when he’s not trying?

Okay then. He’ll deal with that tomorrow.

He went back to his notebooks, pulling out a new one (a basic one, this one would get a lot of wear and tear) he began to copy down the notes on the katas and notes on how it works.

He should be able to fight with and without using OFA. Especially until he had better control. And he should probably focus on less of a heavy hitting style and more around speed, he’s small and lean rather than bulky like All Might after all. So, copy down the kata’s that fit the best for that.

He spent another two hours copying down the proper forms and scribbling notes in the margins.

“Ugh.”

He stretched, maybe he should try something relaxing now? He did want to read that book on heroes his dad got him… and… a bath would be nice… with the bath bombs… He had been working hard!

So maybe he ended up taking a very nice relaxing bath, and maybe he ended up reading the book on heroes during it.

And maybe he learned a lot about heroes failings that he didn’t know before.

It was really sad sometimes, but it just inspires him more! He would do his absolute best to help everyone! And never abandon someone that he saw needed help.

Not like Crest, the wave hero, who caused a tsunami when fighting a villain and caused mass death and didn’t even catch the villain. Or Candle Lit, the night light hero, who wrongfully accused dozens of citizens of crimes. Or Book End, the knowledge hero, who killed villains and civilians alike, then claimed it was an accident. Or Big Sister Red, who blackmailed dozens of low-level criminals into doing her bidding. Or the dozens of other heroes that aimed for fame at all costs, slandered other heroes, ruined careers to boost their own.

He wouldn’t be like that, he would help people and wouldn’t demand anything in return. And he’d do it with a smile on his face just like All Might!

It was a really interesting read overall. It gave him a lot to think about and when he became a pro he’d know what to look out for.

He would protect people, even from other heroes.

He’d have to do a lot of research for that later, he would make sure the heroes he supported were actual heroes, that they weren’t hurting others. He didn’t really care about their motivation, the important thing is that they help others, that they protect and save lives.

But the bad ones, when he was a pro, he’d take them down! He’d make sure the ones that hurt people couldn’t do it any more and were properly punished.

Maybe that’s why dad gave him the book, to show him what he needed to watch out for when he became a pro.

Wow, dad was so smart! He’d do his best to make him proud.

Doctor POV

“It’s coming along nicely Master. Should only be a few more months before it’s ready.”

All for One smiled, “Good, keep me updated to it’s progress.”

“As you wish.”

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