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grogunotfound · 3 years

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PART ONE OF THE HAPPILY EVER AFTER SERIES

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ╾ dream smp x fem!reader au

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ╾ in a realm where a dragon threatens the inhabitants of a nearby kingdom, a mermaid makes a deal to trade her voice for a pair of human legs in order to save the people who saved her.

𝐚/𝐧 ╾ i am so excited for this series!! like the new layout? ((:

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The thunderous roars of the waves startled you. It was all you could hear; everything surrounding you was pitch black. You couldn’t tell where you were, but a voice in the back of your mind told you to calm down. So, you listened. You weren’t sure why you trusted this consciousness, but it was convincing enough to motivate you to take deep breaths. Slowly, the world replaced the darkness in front of you, loading itself into the emptiness to help you find your grounding.

You were on a grassy field that subtly rolled into a beach. Just beyond the sand was the source of sound that awoke you; it seemed less upset than what it sounded like. The ocean receded as multiple waves started tumbling upon itself—the roughness came in every so often, bringing in gifts of kelp to decorate the sand. You felt at peace being near the water. The grass was warm underneath the palm of your hands, which was also paired with the sun shining down on you.

You must find shelter, your inner voice reminded you. You took in one last deep breath of the salty air and stood up, your body silently thanking you as you stretched out your limbs. You turned away from the soothing scenery to find a place to settle down when night crawls in.

You gathered materials from the environment around you, trying your best not to disrupt the landscape of it all. You found enough items to start building your starter house—which wouldn’t be much but it’s okay. You wanted to explore before settling into a forever home. The current location was nice and all, but you wanted to find something even better. Plus, you needed to locate the nearest town to buy supplies for your neverending adventure in life.

Night took over quickly, which meant you either slept in late or that each day was a few minutes long. You were terrified but couldn’t find enough wool to make a comfortable bed, so you just lay on the dirt floor. Groans and hisses encompassed your temporary sanctuary, sending you chills when something thudded against the door.

Sunlight rescued you by peaking through the cracks in the door. You groggily rubbed your eyes, finding it impossible to rest when death knocked at your door multiple times last night. Nevertheless, you got yourself up to venture through another day. Food, you reminded yourself. Your stomach agreed in response, so you set out to find something to snack on.

You walked for so long that when it came to sunset, you still couldn’t find anything edible. There were so many things that heavily irritated your nose, it was difficult judging on if it would kill you or not. So, you decided not to risk it and continue walking until you found shelter for the upcoming nightfall.

The odds seemed to be in favor when you came across a wooden structure. Someone was standing outside, tending to the garden in front of the cozy building. They hadn’t seen you yet, so you called out to them, “pardon me?”

The figure turned around quickly, clearly frightened, “Please, I don’t have anything!”

You took a hesitant step back, “I’m not here to take anything. Would you happen to have any spare room that I can rest in for the night? I promise to leave in the morning.”

“Oh, you’re a traveler. Yes, yes! You may stay in my cottage for the night. My name is Bad,” they introduced themself, bowing and accidentally spilling water out of the container he was holding at the same time.

You curtsied in response and told Bad your name. He complimented it before finishing his gardening to give you a tour of his home. You were extremely grateful for his kindness, you wondered if he was used to having strangers traveling through his land. He seemed very nervous around you, his hands trembled as he prepared a food basket for you for the next morning. You also noticed his limp, “What happened?” You referred to his leg.

He followed your finger and laughed when he saw that you were pointing to his injury, “Do you not remember the war?” You shook your head. “You must be from another land then... Well, there was a war between two rival royals. They both wanted the land because more land constitutes more power. I fought on King George III’s side. I got into a horrific battle and was one of the few lucky ones. It’s a miracle, and one that I can’t forget thanks to my injury. Anyways, the war was brief because when King George III passed away unexpectedly, his enemy disappeared. Both kingdoms suffered drastically, so the remaining royal families agreed to unite their kingdoms to achieve both of their final wishes: to have more land.”

“That...seems so bizarre,” you rose your brows in disbelief. You have never heard of this historic event before, which made you wonder what you did remember. It felt like your mind was blocked—that there was something behind the indestructible wall that separated your consciousness from your past. It worried you, but the little voice in the back of your head reminded you to keep calm. “I’m surprised I don’t remember that.”

“Well, this world is practically endless. You must not be from around here.” Bad explained and handed you the beautifully put together basket—filled to the brim with muffins, fruit, and other necessities. “I assume you aren’t looking to do any farm work.”

“Sadly, no. I must continue moving,” you responded, smiling as you received the gift.

“On a quest?” He perked up.

“You can say that,” you shrugged. It wasn’t a quest, but it was a personal quest. Your inner voice was searching for something, and you felt that if you didn’t find this special item...you would never be satisfied.

Bad chuckled lightly and nodded, “Let me show you to your room.”

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raywritesthings · 4 years

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Bird in a Storm 4/17

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Laurel Lance, Oliver Queen, Tommy Merlyn, John Diggle, Joanna de la Vega, Quentin Lance, Frank Pike, Felicity Smoak Pairing: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen Summary: The confrontation between the Hood and SWAT on the roof of the Winick Building goes differently, altering the course of Laurel’s career, relationships and efforts to save her city forever, the shockwaves of such an altered path making themselves felt throughout her family and friends. *Can be read on my AO3, link is in bio*

Joanna couldn’t believe it when she first got the news. But the multiple texts from her coworkers at CNRI proved its veracity: Laurel was being forced out.

She headed over to her friend’s apartment and was let in by a surly Tommy Merlyn.

“You wouldn’t be here to talk some sense into her, would you?”

“I’m here to support my friend.” Joanna headed past him into the sitting room where Laurel looked up from her laptop.

“Hey. I guess you heard.”

“Yeah. Are you okay?” She’d meant to come by even earlier to see her after that whole incident with her injury, but they’d had family in visiting still. It didn’t keep her from feeling guilty for not being there when Laurel clearly needed someone.

She shrugged. “It’s not the end of the world.”

“Just your career,” Tommy reminded them all as he passed by on his way back to the bedrooms. The door shut hard behind him.

Joanna hid a wince and took the spot next to Laurel on the couch. “Where have you been looking?”

“Everywhere?” Laurel shifted so she could look at the cover letter her friend was drafting. “It’s a little hard when I can’t talk much about my only place of employment or use them as a reference.”

“I guess your reputation of taking down corporate big shots isn’t too helpful when applying for corporate law.”

“No, it is not.”

Joanna shook her head. This was so unfair and everyone knew it. “You want me to talk to Eric?”

Laurel shook her head. “It won’t do any good. He’s under the thumb of CNRI’s backers.”

“And those backers want you to starve?”

“They want to see the Hood punished. Since they can’t do that, I guess I’m the next best thing.”

“But you’re more than just a connection to the Hood. If you hadn’t been helping me solve my brother’s murder, nobody would even know you’ve worked with him. None of this would’ve happened.” Joanna hung her head.

“I wouldn’t take it back if it meant not exposing the truth about your brother’s death. Or saving the chief. Those were good things.”

Before Joanna could answer, the bedroom door opened again and Tommy stopped in the sitting room. “I’m heading out.”

Laurel set her laptop aside and stood. “Okay. Did you want me to wait on dinner?”

“I’ll eat while I’m out.” He gave a curt nod to Joanna, then turned and headed to the front door.

Laurel wavered on the balls of her feet. “Have a good day,” she called just before the door shut.

“Does he really have to start at the club that early?”

“His hours are what he wants them to be. And right now, he does not want to be here.” Laurel sighed and dropped back down into her spot. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Maybe… maybe you just take the deal. It’d make things a lot easier for you and your relationship,” she pointed out. It was the practical choice. The safe one. But she knew Laurel was rarely interested in safe or practical.

Her friend looked at her. “Jo, you know as well as I do what lying about the Hood would look like to our clients.”

She grimaced. That was a hard point to refute. Laurel was good at what she did precisely because of the trust she garnered in their clients. They really believed she was willing to put everything on the line in the name of justice. The time had come to prove she was.

“There is one thing about CNRI,” Laurel told her. “Thea. Anastasia has agreed to become her temporary sponsor, but when you go back to work, I’d really appreciate it if you could take over. I feel like Thea could learn a lot from you.”

She felt herself smile. “Yes, of course. Actually, on one condition.” Laurel frowned, but Joanna wasn’t worried. “If you ever need anything, you let me know. A reference, food — my mom misses cooking for a group.”

“I don’t think things are that drastic yet,” Laurel was quick to say.

“You never know. It isn’t exactly cheap to live in this town. Except in the Glades.”

“Yeah,” Laurel agreed quietly. “Thank you for the offer, Jo. Really.”

“I’m your friend, Laurel. It’s what we do. I’m gonna miss you when I go back.”

“You’ll do fine without me.”

“I don’t know. I don’t love the odds,” Joanna told her. Laurel pulled her in for a hug.

“Me neither. But we have to keep fighting.”

She nodded into Laurel’s shoulder. Then she pulled back. “So, jobs. You try the DA’s office yet?”

“Yeah, I think Kate Spencer is my least biggest fan at the moment.”

Joanna couldn’t help a snort. “Yeah. That figures.”

Laurel joined her in laughter. Sometimes that was all you could do.

---

It had taken him practically begging for Laurel to finally come see him at the station. She wouldn’t go to his home, and he knew he still wasn’t welcome in hers. That was assuming it was hers for much longer, the way she was going.

“I don’t get it. I really don’t. They don’t wanna let you go. Nobody wants to see you leave CNRI. You’re the best they got!” He paced back and forth in the space between table and wall of the interrogation room he’d commandeered to try and talk some sense into his daughter. “Why would you throw that away?”

“Because if I agreed to what they’re asking, I wouldn’t be the best anymore. I’d just prove to be susceptible to coercion.”

“Coercion to help control a criminal. That’s not coercion, that’s- that’s cooperating with law enforcement!”

“A lot of people in the Glades see that as the same thing,” she stated while looking straight at him.

“Hey now,” he said, raising a warning finger. “I’m not saying this department is perfect, but you gotta have order in a society. This Hood guy, he’s disrupting that.”

“If it was already so broken, maybe it needed disrupted,” she argued.

Quentin could feel his frustration mounting despite his promise to himself not to get angry with her today. The investors at CNRI were pushing the issue because he’d pushed it first — but there wouldn’t be an issue if she’d just see reason!

They were interrupted by a quick rap on the door and the desk sergeant poking his head in.

“Detective, there’s a woman at the desk asking — well, she called you Laurel Lance’s father,” the sergeant amended with a glance Laurel’s way. “I think she might really be looking for you, Miss.”

Laurel took a step forward, but he said, “Send her back here.”

The desk sergeant left and returned a few minutes later with an older woman with dark skin whose face lit up when she saw his daughter.

“Well, Miss Lance!”

“Hello, Mrs. Ross.” Laurel embraced the other woman, and Quentin tried to remember if she’d been a client or family of one.

“I heard through the grapevine you’d been fired. It’s a disgrace, and after everything you’ve done for that office!”

“Thank you,” His daughter said, a small smile gracing her lips.

“You find some other work yet?”

“Not just yet. Most of the law firms in this city aren’t too keen to attach my name to themselves at the moment.”

“I thought so. Well, they’re all a bunch of thieves anyway. So listen, if you need something to keep you afloat, I’ve been asking around. My neighbor’s aunt has this friend, she’s got a flower shop on Wells and 17th Street, and she’s been looking for a helper for a while now. Arthritis getting bad in her fingers.”

“Oh,” said Laurel. She glanced his way, uncertain. “I’ll have to stop by and introduce myself.”

“Mm-hm. It’s honest work, which beats most things. Gotta put the food on the table.” She looked to him as if expecting to share a grin. Quentin’s lips didn’t even twitch.

Mrs. Ross dropped her gaze to her purse, which she rifled around in. “Here, I wrote the address down for you. You show up anytime and just tell her I sent you.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Ross.” Laurel hugged her again. “It means a lot.”

“Well, we all gotta help each other, cause them upstairs never will.” She darted a look in Quentin’s direction and stepped back. “You take care, now.”

“I will. Thank you.”

Mrs. Ross left the room, and the silence in her wake was deafening. Laurel looked down at the paper in her hands, which was really just a way of avoiding looking at him.

“A florist?” He finally asked. “That’s what you’re gonna be now?”

Laurel grimaced. “Has to beat retail, right?”

“Laurel, honey, just be reasonable, alright? No vigilante is worth this much no matter what he’s done.”

“And what am I worth?” Laurel asked. “My word, my integrity. That’s what’s on the line here just as much as his reputation. If your boss asked you to lie about some case just because it would make a few CEOs happy, would you do it, dad?”

If he answered truthfully, it wouldn’t make everything right again. Except: “Lying about a case is a lot different than saying a criminal’s a criminal.”

Laurel shook her head before walking to the door. “The next time you wonder why residents in the Glades don’t trust the cops? Remember that.”

She left without letting him respond. It never helped that the both of them always wanted the last word.

“Detective?”

“What?” He snapped. Kelton just blinked at him, and he sighed. “What was it?”

“The incident report was filed for the, uh, Winick Building use of force.”

He straightened up right away. If he couldn’t save Laurel from her own reckless decisions, he could at least nail the idiot who had hurt her that night. “Well?”

“The rubber bullet came from Officer Daily’s weapon.”

“Daily.” Something had always seemed off about that one. He hadn’t even been one of Quentin’s first picks that night, just volunteered because he was on shift. Probably one of those gun-happy nuts who thought the job was more about shooting people than about keeping the peace. Quentin never minded knocking one of those guys down a peg. “Good work, Kelton.”

He left the interview room and headed to Frank’s office where he rapped on the door. It took a few minutes for his superior to open it.

“Got a minute?”

“I suppose,” Frank Pike sighed. “It’s either now or later with you anyway.”

He showed him in, though Quentin remained standing. “You see the incident report?”

“Well? What’s gonna happen to Daily?”

Frank brought his hands together in a gesture that rarely meant good news. “That’s up to Captain Stein’s decision. From what I understand, there will be no disciplinary action.”

Quentin thought he felt his eyes bug out. “What do you mean, no disciplinary action? The man shot a civilian!”

“It’s a difficult situation, Quentin, one you probably should have thought of before you made your daughter a person of interest to the Taskforce,” Frank pointed out none-too-gently. “Daily believed he was shooting at the vigilante. He has expressed no ill intent towards Laurel or any other civilians since. Laurel didn’t even press charges.”

“And you’re lucky she didn’t since it would’ve exposed us being caught in another lie,” he snarked. “Look, if Stein wants to let the whole thing go, that’s his prerogative. But Daily was under my command that night, so I’ll decide—”

“You won’t go near Daily,” Pike said, standing from his desk. “You won’t speak to him, won’t touch him. It’s a huge conflict of interest, Quentin, one that could see you in front of an ethics committee if Stein decided to pursue the matter.”

Quentin stood there a minute, hardly daring to believe it. Far from threatening him, Frank was trying to protect him, and from his own superior. But he was also protecting an officer who had demonstrated gross misconduct. “You know this isn’t right, though.”

“I know what my orders are. I’m telling you what yours are now. Are we understood?”

Quentin looked down, his jaw working for a moment or so. “Sure.” Then he left the office.

Back at his desk, he checked the incident report. Nowhere in it did it actually confirm that Laurel had been struck by Daily’s bullet; it simply made note that Daily’s gun had been returned with one bullet missing. The official record would never hold him accountable and, apparently, neither would any of them.

Why nobody trusted the cops indeed.

---

It had been a long evening of arguing with the contractors yet again. Tommy had been hoping to be done with that long ago, but thanks to the fire last month, they were still in the building process. It didn’t help matters that Oliver tended to disappear as soon as he turned his back for more than a few minutes. He was just glad to be heading home for one night.

Tommy entered the apartment, frowning as he took in the stripped-down sight of it.

“Laurel?”

“Hey.” She came in from the bedroom, a notepad in one hand and a box under her other arm. It looked to have some of her court suits folded up inside.

“What’s going on?”

“I started an account to sell some extra things for rent this month. Since CNRI is a nonprofit that struggles to stay open as it is, they don’t exactly have severance packages.”

“You’re auctioning off your belongings,” he stated flatly.

“They’re clothes, Tommy, not precious heirlooms.”

“And what about next month’s rent? What’ll you have to give up, then?” Even if Laurel let him cover all of it, they’d barely make it along with food and other expenses. He was too proud to ask Oliver for a raise, especially so soon, and it shouldn’t be necessary. None of this was necessary, but Laurel was stubborn enough to go ahead with it anyway.

She seemed to sense his irritation, for it was apologetic eyes she turned on him. “Next month I’m hoping to be out of here. The landlord already said he’s happy to waive the fee for breaking the lease. I think he’ll be glad to have less attacks.” When he didn’t even crack a smile, Laurel started playing with the hem of her sweater. “I’m taking a job at a flower shop for now. So we’ll have to start looking for something in a cheaper neighborhood.”

A flower shop. That was the next grand step in this plan of hers.

He couldn’t believe this. All this time, he’d seen Laurel as something of an unattainable ideal, with some faults perhaps, but nothing in comparison to his own. While he’d been drinking and sleeping through life, she had followed a path to success. And all of that she was willing to give up for the sake of some killer who had decided to make her a centerpiece for his crazed vendetta on the city. He couldn’t just stand by and watch that happen.

Tommy had been trying to make himself better for her, but it seemed clear to him now that the problems in this relationship weren’t just with him.

“Yeah,” he said at last. “Yeah, we will. But separately.”

“What do you mean?”

He gathered a breath. “I thought I wanted this. You. But I was wrong.”

He walked back towards the bedroom. Laurel set her box down and followed him, her eyes widening as she found him pulling clothes out of the drawer — the drawer he had fought tooth and nail to get only a month ago.

“Tommy, talk to me.”

“Why should I? You haven’t been talking to me. Not about meeting up with the Hood, not about the decisions you’re making with your career, the apartment.”

“My career is my choice,” she argued, yet her shoulders slumped as she added, “But I shouldn’t have lied to you about meeting the Hood. I know that, Tommy. And we can still make this work—”

“Just answer me this,” he said, turning back to her as he shut the drawer. “Would you give up everything you’re giving up right now for me?”

Laurel’s head gave a minute shake. “Why would I need to?”

“Exactly. You wouldn’t, because I would never ask you to. But you’re giving it up for him.”

She frowned. “Tommy, this is about what’s best for the city. Not the Hood.”

“It’s about him for me, Laurel,” he stated. “I’m not stupid. You’re committed to him in a way you’re just not to me. I don’t know why, or what this lunatic has that keeps you so loyal to him.”

“He’s—”

Tommy held up a hand. “I don’t really care anymore. I can’t keep caring when you’re ignoring what’s best for you to keep him going. I’m done, Laurel.”

“Tommy, please.” She followed him back out to the front room. “I need you.”

“If you needed me, you wouldn’t have gone to him in the first place.”

Tommy shut the door behind him. He squeezed his eyes shut to hold back the stinging and the tears, and he walked forward to the elevator. Laurel’s crying grew quieter in his ears the further he got away, but not his mind.

He paused in the elevator, his eyes on the apartment door. Then his phone buzzed in his pocket with a news alert.

Hood attacks Queen family matriarch at QC

Tommy’s eyes narrowed, and he hit the close door button. The Hood was an enemy to the people he cared about, whether they could see it for themselves or not.

---

John worked frantically to restart Oliver’s heart. He didn’t know what had gone wrong, but the machine kept up its flat, dead tone.

At least until Felicity Smoak fixed the wires. It was with relief that he realized there was actually nothing wrong with Oliver. His friend was just resting and recovering.

He and Felicity talked while they waited for Oliver to wake up. John could tell she was searching for some kind of reason to stay and accept what was happening, what she now knew. He did his best to explain his own rationale for helping a vigilante.

But at an extremely late hour, the door upstairs opened, revealing a miserable sight.

John stood up straight. “Laurel? Something wrong?”

“Um, hi, John.” The woman’s eyes were red-rimmed, and her voice came out quiet and a little hoarse. She must have been crying a while.

But when her eyes widened upon spotting Oliver on the table, it was any guess as to the reason. “Oliver. Is he okay? What happened?”

Laurel rushed down to their friend’s side, her hand reaching to take his where it hung limply at his side.

“He took a bullet. Should be okay with time,” John told her.

“It was his mother,” Felicity added.

Laurel looked up sharply. “Mrs. Queen?”

John nodded. “We got some intel that she might know something about his father’s list. He tried asking her about it as himself, but she wouldn’t answer. So then he gave it a try as the Hood.”

“And Mrs. Queen gave a try at putting the Hood down,” Felicity remarked.

“She must’ve panicked. If she’d had any idea,” Laurel said. John just stayed quiet. He knew Laurel didn’t have quite as large a blind spot for the Queen matriarch as Oliver did, but she had grown up knowing the woman. It would likely take some time for her to adjust to the idea that Moira Queen wasn’t all she pretended to be.

Laurel wiped her eyes on her sleeve and turned to Felicity. “Um, sorry. I’m Laurel.”

“I know. I saw you on the news a few weeks ago,” Felicity said. “I’m Felicity. I work at Queen Consolidated, which apparently includes doing odd jobs for vigilantes.” She considered Laurel for a moment. “So you really have known who he is. I was wondering.”

“Just for the last month,” Laurel said.

“Did you need something when you came down here, Laurel?” John asked.

“Oh. Yeah, I was hoping to have a look through Ollie’s list. But it can wait.” She returned her gaze to the man’s prone form.

It was another hour before Oliver stirred. His eyes opened and his hand clenched around Laurel’s. John watched her bite back a gasp.

“Ollie, it’s okay. You’re safe.”

“Laurel?” Oliver’s eyes opened and he looked around at the three of them. His grip eased, and then he was pushing himself up to sitting with one arm.

“Easy there. Try not to aggravate your shoulder,” John advised. “You’ve been out most of the night.”

“What happened?”

“Uh, well, I got you to your secret basement like you asked, John patched you up, I hacked the SCPD database to have them dispose of your DNA sample collected at the crime scene, and then Laurel showed up,” Felicity summarized in one breath.

Oliver turned back to Laurel. “Are you okay?”

She looked ready to laugh in disbelief. “I’m fine. You’re the one with a shoulder wound worse than mine was. How are you going to hide this from your family?”

“I’ll manage.”

“Did you want to see the list now, Laurel?” John asked.

Laurel nodded and stepped back from Oliver’s table. “Yeah, thanks.”

“Why do you need the list?” Oliver asked, frowning as she walked away.

“I wanted to make sure which landlords are on it and which aren’t.” She kept her eyes on the pages she was scanning as she continued, “I’m, um, probably moving to the Glades.”

“What?” Oliver slid off the table and winced as the impact reached his shoulder, but he shook it off. “Laurel, the Glades aren’t safe.”

“Yes, but they’re what I can afford. The only work I’ve found is at a florist’s shop, and if I can walk there instead of using public transit, that’ll save me money, too.”

“That the shop on Wells and 17th?” John asked. He’d noticed the help wanted sign in its window a few times as he’d passed by.

“Uh-huh.”

“Laurel, you’re not a florist,” Oliver said. “You’re a lawyer.”

“Well, there aren’t any law offices that want me. Wish I’d known that before I paid all that money to get the degree,” she remarked. John could see the effort she was going through to keep things light. He still didn’t know what had had her so upset when she arrived. “Okay, so none of the Nickel properties are worth looking into…”

Oliver shook his head. “Those offices will reconsider with time. Look, if you’re that tight for money, I’ll just raise Tommy’s salary so you have more time to look or you can work here with him—”

“Tommy broke up with me,” Laurel stated bluntly, at last looking up from the list. Her mouth pulled down in a terribly sad frown.

Oliver froze. “He left you?”

“He packed his things and walked out tonight.”

“Because of everything that’s happening.” Oliver looked down for a long moment. “I’ll tell him the truth.”

John’s eyes widened, though before he could speak up Laurel was already replying with common sense.

“No, you can’t. He hates the Hood worse than ever, Ollie. There’s no telling how he’d react.” She heaved a sigh. “And it wouldn’t fix the rest of the problems we’ve had. I gave a relationship with Tommy a shot because I was tired of constantly having to turn him down. And I liked it, but — it’s over now. He can’t agree with my choices, and I can’t force him to.”

There was a heavy silence after those words. John noticed Felicity was busying herself by the table with the newer computers she’d set up, and he had a feeling the woman was desperate to be anywhere but here.

“I can still get you a job. Maybe not at the club, but Queen Consolidated. I’m sure we could find something for you,” Oliver offered.

“After the Hood attacked their CEO?”

John looked down. He could see where this was going, and it didn’t lead to any of Laurel’s problems having an easy fix. That was going to be partly on him since he’d been behind the push to send the Hood after Mrs. Queen, and all for no new information, as it was turning out.

“Oliver, if you want people to believe your cover for not being the Hood, for not even liking him, you can’t have anything to do with me.”

Oliver’s face took on a look of alarm as he started towards her. “Laurel—”

She set the list down and took a step back. “Your mother’s just been attacked by a man you’ve been claiming is insane. If I continue believing in the Hood — which I will, since I know you never meant to hurt your own mother — it would be impossible for you to keep being my friend. We can’t have contact, at least not in public.”

Words were failing Oliver. Combined with his shoulder wound, the man looked absolutely broken. He and the rest of them could only watch as Laurel made her way to the stairs.

“I’m sorry. It was nice meeting you,” she added to Felicity. For one moment, she stared at Oliver with eyes that practically ached. Then she looked down and climbed the staircase, the door closing with finality behind her.

“Well,” Felicity said eventually. “I think I’ll be heading home myself. I’ve got an early morning.” She reached for her coat and started for the door.

“Felicity,” Oliver said quietly. The woman paused. “Thank you for everything you did tonight. I understand it was a lot to bring you in on so quickly.”

“Yeah.” She fiddled with her keys. “Not that I’m not grateful you felt you could finally trust me with the truth about all this. But just, no offense, from where I’m standing, being associated with you seems to destroy a person’s life.”

Oliver stayed silent, not even attempting to argue against that assessment.

“So I’m not going to tell the police about you, and I will work with you to find Walter. But that’s it, and after that we’re done.”

Oliver gave a slow nod. “That’s fine.”

“Okay. Well, goodnight. I’m glad you didn’t die.” She, too, headed up the stairs and at of the foundry.

A very heavy, very uncomfortable silence fell once it was just the two of them. John knew it was up to him to try and bridge it. “Oliver, I’m sorry things worked out like this.”

“What is this like, Diggle?” Oliver asked. “A disaster? Because that’s how it seems to me.”

“You couldn’t have known Tommy was going to call things quits. And that relationship needed to run its course without you anyway.”

“But it’s not without me, John.” Oliver’s look was absolutely guilt-stricken. “Tommy was jealous of the Hood. And with him gone, and her and Lance not speaking, and now this, she’s totally on her own. I did that.”

“A lot of that was Laurel’s choices, too,” he pointed out quietly.

“I forced her into them. I should have realized the danger I was putting her in. The risks. Now it’s too late. But I’m not taking them with anyone else.” Oliver pulled on a sweatshirt, then took two steps towards John, getting right into his space.

“My mother — any of my loved ones, are off limits. For good this time.”

He’d known it was coming, and there was little he could say without them coming to blows over it. And without any more information about this Undertaking, he had no real leverage.

Oliver turned and stormed from the base. John sighed, then got to work finishing cleaning up.

To think things had somehow only gotten worse even after Oliver had been shot.

#lauriver #laurel x oliver #laurel lance #oliver queen #arrow #green arrow #black canary #my writing #bird in a storm

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kshitij1997 · 4 years

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Hello again!

Let’s continue, shall we?

This chapter is strictly based in Arendelle, unlike the last few chapters.

All Frozen and Tangled characters belong to Disney.

Chapter 11: If it takes forever, then I’ll walk forever

Iduna had noticed a change in herself; she had never been so weary as she felt now. Worry had become a staple state of existence for her. The trio, as her three daughters called, had been shattered. There was a time when they were inseparable; Anna, Olva and Elsa walking hand in hand, a bunch of peas in the same pod.

That was when life was easy, but what a difference a single incident makes.

Her mind raced back to when she saw the carnage; the ballroom floor solidified into an ugly amalgamation of snow and ice. Elsa’s ice had always been beautiful but then, in that ill moment, it flashed the white light of doom and destruction. As for her children, they were there, two of them unconscious, a massive cracked debris of ice, a snowman reduced to fine powder. And there Elsa was, holding her fainted sisters wailing to the sky and constricted by terror. With Anna having a streak of white across her hair, and Olva’s right side marred by scars from the sharp ice.

She remembered feeling grotesque by the spoils; how Agnarr had to hatchet through the door held firm by the ice. The fragments of her family fallen prey to a probable moment of panic; a moment of ill moment. This was a cold worse than winter.

She remembered how she and Agnarr had to gallop on their royal steeds as they never had, in that moment she felt as if she was on a death wish, trying to rein in her horse and holding fast her two injured children. She had known this would happen, and she let it happen.

Grand Pabbie warned her, she should have been more careful.

Elsa shouldn’t have panicked.

And yet, there they were, about to reach the lair of the stonepeople.

She remembered how Grand Pabbie was not pleased ‘Every time Your Majesties choose to grace us with your presence, it always disrupts our winter meditation. Sometimes, I am forced to believe that you are wishing for a polar event.’

‘Forgive us please Grand Pabbie, we seriously need your help and guidance, there’s been an accident.’ Agnarr pleaded as he’d never done before.

‘An accident with your firstborn’s powers? For why my aid would be needed otherwise?’

‘Grand Pabbie, my children’s lives are at stake, you must help us, we have nowhere else to go.’ The king ignored the irreverence.

Grand Pabbie relented ‘Apologies for my annoyance, Your Majesties. Tell me everything.’

Iduna remembered telling Grand Pabbie everything, or at least what she could understand from what Elsa had managed to tell her between sobs.

The hermit of half rock-moss and half flesh answered quickly and definitively; it was imperative to reverse the effects of Elsa’s powers; else the victims could freeze into solid ice. Grand Pabbie reassured them; they were lucky it was the head, not the heart. One could fool the head, but the heart was another matter entirely; the heart required a genuine act of love and sacrifice, those were hard to come by. As for Olva, it was more towards shock and blunt force trauma, they had done a disservice to her by bringing her there, while she should have been resting. Iduna felt personally responsible for that; she had insisted the whole family to go.

‘Grand Pabbie, what about the powers themselves? Is there any hope?’

Grand Pabbie turned to directly face Elsa; the great golem like hermit moved slowly but with purpose towards the little platinum blonde girl. The girl couldn’t help but stare at his presence; someone who didn’t emote much, but his feelings were remarkably easy to understand and notice regardless. In that moment she saw sympathy and pity; It was something she’d never seen before. She realized that didn’t like that feeling at all.

‘Your poor child of destiny, how one must step up to face the world regardless of age and be brought to reality. I’m sorry it was so sudden and such an unfortunate circumstance for you. Your powers would only grow from here on, to command the forces of nature akin to the ancient giants. Bringing joy and relief to those who need it.’, Grand Pabbie stated as he manipulated a few wisps in his hand to show an eight-headed star glowing blue and bright.

‘However, the power would also bring terror and fear and loss of control as they assert themselves, which would lead to your doom and destruction.’ Grand Pabbie continued as the star collapsed upon itself, crumbling into a red mass of death, smothered by red fire and smoke and a bright, shining sword coming straight for her. Elsa had to hide into her father’s arms from the horror.

‘The only thing you must fear is fear itself. It is your greatest enemy.’ The hermit finished as the wisps trailed off into nothingness.

‘What now, Grand Pabbie? Is she done for?’ Iduna asked worriedly.

‘I have just told you how she may combat the challenges she faces; she can’t succumb to fear. I would advise to help her build trust with a few close people and help her naturally experience and embrace her powers. She cannot be made to feel like a monster. She must be dealt with empathy and compassion. As for the other two of your daughters, for Anna I would need to induce some slight amnesia, because her mind is a little too fragile to understand it. However, Anna must be made to understand soon, this is a temporary measure, she can’t be kept in the dark forever. For Olva, as she wasn’t directly struck with Elsa’s powers, she doesn’t need any procedure, but she does need to be cared for very carefully, we don’t know how she may react to certain things yet. It may manifest as anything, she may experience pain, fainting, lash out in anger, or worse turn unfeeling towards everyone. Or maybe she wakes up unscathed. Regardless, I hope you can help her meaningfully. Please don’t treat this lightly, it is imperative.’

Iduna was at a loss for words; how would she and Agnarr manage it all? As for Agnarr, he was lost in thought, putting his intuition to practice. At length Agnarr spoke, ‘What if Olva has amnesia induced as well?’. Grand Pabbie was taken aback, he almost looked offended, ‘Your Majesty, that is a very irresponsible thing to ask. How can you even consider it? If I try inducing amnesia upon her mind, it may induce unprecedented effects, it may even worsen her recovery. Please don’t ask me to do it.’

‘I order you to do it.’ Agnarr put his foot down.

Grand Pabbie could not resist now, it was an order, even if it was from a monarch acting out of character.

‘Alright, Your Majesty, I’ll do as you say. Little dark-haired one, forgive this poor servant of nature, for he has to do something terrible.’ With that, Grand Pabbie put a heavy hand upon Olva’s forehead. The unconscious girl woke up at once, as if in a trance and screamed into the pale moonlight, a sharp contrast to how Anna took it. But then magic to counter magic was usual, magic to answer for something blunt, not so much.

Iduna remembered how Elsa stood there in shock, how she wanted to shut her eyes but couldn’t; how she herself had to close her eyes and grab on to her family, she couldn’t bear to watch it.

The procedure was over at long last, when Olva fell unconscious again, drained from the ordeal and turning pale, as if a certain glow had been taken from her body.

Elsa only asked one question ‘They won’t remember that I have powers?’

‘It is for the best.’ Agnarr said.

Looking back at that moment, Iduna felt that she should have raised her voice and tried Agnarr to see sense. Alas, that moment was past.

Now, Agnarr had been gone almost a month, shoring up alliances to help despite the blockade. She had to face them all alone. She had to take charge, she couldn’t abandon the kingdom, or her family. Even so, sitting through the meetings was tedious, especially when she had to explain and defend every move in front of the council, who didn’t consider the blockade popular at all.

To say nothing of facing her daughters, how many times must she lie to them? The mere thought exhausted her-

‘Ma!’ Anna’s voice could be heard from across the hall as it broke Iduna’s chain of thought.

‘Yes dear?’

‘Why won’t Elsie come out? Is she not feeling well?’ Anna asked.

‘No, she’s fine, why do you say that?’

‘It’s that she’s avoiding me. When I asked her to come out and play, she flat out said no. Did I do something wrong?’

Bless her innocence.

‘She’s worried about something; I am helping her with it. I promise she’ll be better soon.’ Shit, that was a mistake.

‘I know she’ll be better Ma, but she hasn’t come out to play in so long! Winter’s about to end soon, I don’t want to miss the last snow of the season.’ Anna said with a frown.

‘She has to take her studies seriously, you know, one day she must lead. You want her to do well, don’t you?’ It felt icky tricking her child like that, but it was for the greater good. Moreover, there was some truth in it.

‘Yes, I do, but it’s like she’s gone away. I don’t know if she’d come out again.’ Anna said with a choked tone.

‘What about Olva? Didn’t she play with you?’

‘Yes, but I don’t know what’s happened to her. I mean, we still had quite some fun, but we did miss Elsa. Then suddenly, Olva started screaming, shouting ‘my head, my head!’ then fainted, I had to call the help. Didn’t you hear, Ma?’ Anna said

Now, that was news to her. What kind of a mother was she? The kind who half-heartedly juggles everything and fails, Iduna reflected bitterly. Oh, I wish Agnarr was here.

‘I heard, she’s in the infirmary, I thought she had a bruise, I didn’t know she fainted.’ Another half lie, great.

‘Also, she’s grown, I don’t know, more angry? She always has a frown on her face. She wasn’t like that earlier, she used to crack jokes, dance around, Ma. Now she just sits blank for a long time. I had to shake her to get her attention. Is she alright?’, the little princess was obviously bewildered.

‘I’ll sit with her, don’t worry. She’ll be fine, I promise.’ Making promises was becoming a bad habit.

‘Now, it’s getting late Anna. Come, I’ll take you to your room’

‘I don’t want to sleep in there, it feels so empty since Elsa and Olva moved out.’ Anna moaned.

‘Come on, don’t do this.’

‘Ma, can I sleep in your room tonight? I don’t want to be alone.’ Anna asked, with a sad expression.

‘Alright, come with me.’ Iduna sighed.

One mother and daughter had settled in their room, Anna asked ‘Tell me a story.’

‘Anna, please go to sleep.’

‘Ma I remember you promising us when we were ready, that you’ll tell each one of us a story. I want to listen to mine, I think I’m ready.’

Iduna looked at Anna, knowing exactly what she could do. The least I can do is prepare here for the worst.

Iduna began her story:

It was the story of Isabel, who wanted to go to France. She’d spent virtually her entire childhood dreaming about it. As the daughter of a wealthy colonial governor, she grew up with every luxury available to 1700s Ecuador, but in her young mind, it was nothing compared to the magic of France. In her teens, her dream began to come into focus. A dashing young Frenchman, Jean Godin des Odonais, came to town on an expedition. Isabel took to him immediately, and by all accounts, Jean was equally in love with her. They married within the year.

A few years later, with Jean’s work wrapped up, they made plans to move to France. Jean went ahead to arrange passports and travel across the Atlantic. He was to return for Isabel and their unborn child—the only one of four who’d live past childhood. He thought he’d be gone two years. He was gone for twenty. Because Spain and Portugal ran South America (and neither were allies with France), they wouldn’t let Jean make the return trip. He couldn’t even get letters to Isabel; he could barely get them to Europe. And when his letters begging for passage did make it to Spain and Portugal, they were mired in red tape, not moving anywhere. He tried everything he could think of to reunite with Isabel, getting so desperate that he tried instigating war between France and Portugal.

His efforts were unsuccessful; he spent two long decades almost going crazy trying to get to her, and she had no idea. Still, Isabel waited. Even as neighbours said Jean wasn’t coming back. Even as her daughter grew into a woman. Even as her family fell on hard times. She waited and waited and waited, until her daughter died of smallpox.

She had been nineteen and never got to meet her father.

So, Isabel stopped waiting, and based on the hearsay that Jean was still alive, left to find him. Joining together a group of 42 people, she set off to reunite with her husband on an incredibly dangerous journey. The group included her two brothers, her nephew, her servant, Joaquim, some maids, a doctor, and several native porters.

The 3,000-mile route, which wound around an active volcano, across ramshackle wooden bridges, and through the heart of the Amazon jungle, had only been done by a handful of groups before. They estimated it would take six months. The group started dwindling when they found an abandoned village. It had been ravaged by smallpox and burned to the ground. The porters fled immediately. The group continued in a canoe down a flooding river, although none of them knew how to canoe or swim. Isabel nearly drowned, and they lost many of their supplies. They soon ended up at a sandbar, where they split up. The doctor’s small group took the boat and continued, promising to send back help. But after two weeks with no rescue in sight, Isabel, her brothers, and her nephew built a raft and set off downriver. The raft sank almost immediately, taking their supplies with it.

They continued on foot, with Isabel finally switching from frilly dresses to her brother’s spare trousers. They walked into thick jungle without food, direction, or sunlight. There they became a playground for wasps, scorpions, fire ants, and many things worse. The carpets of flies refused them sleep. The jungle refused them food.

Four weeks, they walked. And they began to die.

First her nephew.

Then her brother.

Then her other brother.

Until Isabel was the only one left.

Isabel had lost everything. Her children, her home, her family. Twenty long years of heartbreak, weighing her down. And so, she lay down on the jungle floor, curled up next to her brother, and waited to die.

Anna was in tears at this point and asked, ‘Please tell me she’s going to be fine.’ Then proceeded to come closer to Iduna, her face buried into Iduna’s arms.

‘Let’s find out, little one’ Iduna said and continued:

But try as she might, she could not die. Even as she began to slip away, a voice called out to her, a voice that would not let her go to sleep, that talked of tasks unfinished and duties undone.

It was the voice of her dear Jean. He said, “Get up, Isabel.” And slowly, she began to crawl forward.

After eight days alone, she stumbled across some native hunters, and immediately collapsed. Over the next month, they nursed her back to health, ridding her of botflies and other parasites. Her hair had turned permanently grey. Her hand was crippled. But she was alive. She gave them two gold necklaces, and set about freeing her servant, Joaquim, from jail, as he’d been suspected of murdering her.

Six months later, for the first time in 21 years, on a boat on the Oyapock River, Isabel Godin saw her husband.

They sailed to Europe three years later, and in her beloved French countryside, she lived a quiet, long, happy life.

Anna breathed a sigh of relief ‘Oh thank goodness! Poor Isabel, she went through a lot!’

‘Yes, she did, baby mine.’

‘Why did her daughter have to die? It’s not fair. She was completely alone near the end.’

‘Life’s not very fair, as you’ll find out soon. Moreover, she did it all for love. She held faith that she would meet her trapped love someday.’

‘Hmm, I guess. But why did she suffer so much, Ma?’

‘As you know, not a lot of people are as well off as we are, they would struggle in their lives if trapped in this manner. But Isabel rose to the occasion, made a big sacrifice and found peace and happiness in the end.’

‘Ma, if Elsa or Olva are in such trouble, would I be able to do the same?’

‘That’s a question you’ll have to answer yourself. I can’t answer it for you, I’m sorry.’

‘I think I’d do the same. If they’re in any such event, I’d follow beyond doubt to help or rescue them. And, if it takes forever, then I’d walk forever.’ Anna declared as she caressed her white streak of hair.

God bless you, poor child, Iduna thought as she tucked Anna in for the night and bid her good night.

With that done, she made a beeline for the infirmary where she found Dr Klaus keeping Olva under observation.

‘Your Majesty, please come in.’ said the weary doctor as he straightened his coat and rose from his seat.

‘Oh, don’t mind me. How’s Olva doing?’

‘She’s better now. However, earlier she was in a state of intermittent consciousness. When she was awake, she was describing a most terrible headache. I believe she used the phrase “A knife of ice carving inside her head.” The doctor told as he checked his notes on the dark-haired princess.

‘Furthermore, she also mentioned seeing a pale blue light, atop a high mountain in her vision. At that point she had begun to grow agitated and almost had a fit. I had to give her brandy to sedate her. She should be fine and wake up in the morning. Still, it would be wise to be alert. ’ The doctor finished.

‘Oh no, doctor. What’ll happen now?’ Iduna asked with fear.

‘It’s still early stages. From what I understand so far, the trauma from the accident may have triggered something dormant into activity. We must not treat this callously; she must be treated with utmost care. She needs to feel safe.’

‘I understand Dr. Klaus, but these headaches have persisted for more than a month now, and they only grow worse. What shall we do?’

‘I would suggest help her find a distraction, a hobby, something she can engage with, something that soothes her.’

‘I understand, thank you Dr. Klaus.’ Iduna said as she planted a small kiss on Olva’s forehead and turned to leave.

‘Your Majesty, what about princess Elsa? How’s she coping? This must be hard on her.’

‘She’s grown quiet and withdrawn, I’m trying my hardest to get her connected back to us.’

‘Try harder, your majesty.’, with that, the doctor made his leave and went back to observe princess Olva.

As the queen made her way back to her chambers, she found Elsa’s room to be slightly open. Taking advantage of the ajar door, she went silently inside Elsa’s room. What she saw, she would remember for a long time.

Her daughter was fast asleep, but her room was a mess. There was snow and ice on edge of every cupboard, windowsill or even the ceiling. It was clear that she had clearly tried to hold it in and failed. There may have been a struggle, she had tried to dig in the floor, but her efforts ended in vain, and she had deflected a blast of ice at the wall, the same bluish-white stain as usual. It had been ages since Iduna could remember Elsa making anything beautiful from her ice. This was fear, completely driving her powers.

Iduna suddenly noticed her daughter’s hands; there were bruises in her palms, clearly from her attempt to dig in her hands to prevent her powers from leaking. On Elsa’s face were the dry marks of tears shed a while ago; the poor princess had cried herself to sleep.

Iduna realized tearfully, Elsa needs more help.

Yeah, we’re getting to Do you want to build a snowman?, that weapon of mass emotional destruction. But as always, the world is happening around them, and they must keep up!

And yes, Isabel’s story is absolutely true, and Anna’s mantra “If it takes forever, then I’ll walk forever” is on brand. More power to Anna, I say.

As always, constructive feedback is always welcome!

#frozen #frozen elsa #elsa #anna of arendelle #elsa and anna #frozen anna #anna #anna appreciation #snow sisters #OC: Olva[Sister to Elsa and Anna]#queen iduna #frozen iduna

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yesloverboy · 5 years

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Neighborly (mgk!Tommy Lee x Reader) Part 3

SUMMARY: Mötley Crüe has two shows this weekend, and you’ve agreed to help your intrusive neighbor, Tommy, do his makeup properly for both. Despite how it might look to the rest of the world, you see yours and Tommy’s relationship as a really fast-developing friendship. However, as Friday draws closer, it starts to become more evident that your relationship with Tommy is headed in a different direction.

word count: 5,191

[Warnings: swearing, mention of injury, vomit, body image, drug and alcohol mention– oh and lots of fluffy goodness.]

NOTE: I hope y’all like fluff, because I’m coming to rot all of your gorgeous teeth right out of your skull. The real question is: will the fluff last forever? I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. As always, thank you so much for give this series a little bit of time out of your day. I’m considering doing imagines/headcanons for The Dirt boys in between chapters, so if that’s something you’re interested in feel free to submit your ideas/requests! I also have anon asks turned on again just in case that’s more your thing. Love y’all!

p.s. I am so sorry this is so fucking long, I don’t know what came over me.

tags: @kwyloz, @scarecrowmax, @lavendersoundbarrier, @stevenandsam, @totallynotkaibiased, @rogertaylur, @fatheadtheroger, @secretly-a-groupie

As the week went by, you were surprised to find Tommy was actually staying out of your hair– well, at least for the most part. No matter what you thought you expected from Tommy, he always seemed to do things in his own, weird way. Just a day after dropping off donuts at your place, Tommy’s weirdness decided to manifest itself yet again. Only this time, he wasn’t necessarily around to inflict it.

That Tuesday afternoon, you returned home from touring your new college to find something sitting right outside your front door. From where you were standing, it appeared to be an old jar of some kind with pink blossoms peeking out from the top. Upon closer inspection, you realized that the jar didn’t just contain flowers, but a flowering cactus. The little cactus was planted firmly inside of the jar with rocks and dirt, as if it was meant to be some kind of terrarium. You picked the jar up with tender fingers, finding yourself still completely uncertain of its purpose outside of your door. Just as you lifted it up off the mat, a crumpled piece of notebook paper fluttered to the ground beneath it, resting at your feet like an autumn leaf.

Unfurling the paper, you realized that it was a handwritten note from none other than your seemingly over-attached neighbor. It struck you as odd that Tommy would be the type to leave his neighbor a handwritten letter– your mind momentarily forgetting that you really didn’t know all that much about him.

Y/N,

Mick also reminded me that people usually like to receive housewarming �� gifts when they move into new places. He suggested flowers, but I saw this little thing and figured it was more your style.

Although, I can’t promise it’ll make your house any warmer.

– T.

You could feel yourself beaming at the note in your hands. There was something utterly endearing about the thought of Tommy fumbling around with a cactus in hand just for your sake.

Damn, Tommy still must really feel bad about the other night, just thinking about Tommy feeling guilty made you frown. Honestly, you wished he wasn’t taking the whole incident so seriously. Sure, it was definitely a weird start to your L.A. journey, but it also wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened. Besides, there was a good chance he would go down in the history book of your life as your first L.A. friend, and that mattered to you.

As happy as you were to feel like Tommy was becoming something close to a friend, it also struck you as odd that you hadn’t run into any of the other Crüe boys yet. You kind of met Mick, but you hardly regarded having your soul stared into by a total stranger as a proper introduction. If the others were anything like Mick, just thinking about running into Tommy’s bandmates would be enough to make your stomach turn a little. A small part of you hoped that Tommy already told his band about you after the incident with his hand. If this ended up being the case, maybe the merry band of rowdy rock stars beneath your feet would be willing to go easy on you.

Little did you know, you wouldn’t have to wait so long to find out.

Friday creeps up on you much faster than you originally anticipated. Since Tommy left the cactus on your doorstep, you hadn’t seen much of him around. Eventually, you attributed that to the screeching sounds of heavy metal rattling the floorboards under your feet. It started sometime on Wednesday evening, and eventually bled into all of Thursday.

Sure, the sound of Mötley Crüe rehearsing their set downstairs was disruptive, but they thankfully never decided to take their playing late into the night. During the day, however, was a completely different situation.

In order to find some kind of escape from all the commotion, you had spent the last few days driving around and getting to know the area. Each passing hour, you found yourself falling more and more in love with the rows of palms decorating the streets, each one reminding you of just how far you’d come. In the truck you always rode with your windows down, gladly welcoming the salty breeze as it tangled into your hair. Your mind would wander between the rays of sunshine on your skin, and you would think about all the possibilities in front of you; ranging from anything between going to a new college in the fall and the cute neighbor that you can’t seem to keep out of your head, or apartment. You always dismissed those thoughts soon after, knowing that they probably weren’t all that realistic.

After yet another prolonged drive and a trip to the drugstore, you return to your apartment to prep for Tommy’s inevitable visit later that evening. You knew he most likely wouldn’t have minded if you used some of your own makeup on him, but figured he could at least use some new eyeliner for when he’d eventually have to do it himself.

Rummaging around your apartment, you start gathering an inventory of any makeup products you have. For the most part, it had been all neatly tucked away in an old makeup tote you’d had since high school. However, because you’re still freshly moved in, you end up rooting around through old boxes just in case. As you check the last of the boxes, you notice they have all but formed a cardboard tower in your living room over the past week. Deciding that the mess is getting out of hand, you think it’s probably time to make a run to the dumpster out back.

Arms teeming with torn and deconstructed boxes, you step into the sweltering heat and out to the back of the building. As you approach the dumpster, a flash of shadowy movement catches your eye. From what you can tell, there seems to be someone lingering over by the back entrance to the apartment building’s mailroom. Not thinking much of it, you continue to chuck boxes into the gaping mouth of the dumpster. The way you figure it, a mysterious figure hanging out behind the building in broad daylight was the least of your worries.

As you turn to leave, a man with a mane of fluffy blonde hair steps out from behind the wall, propping himself comfortably against the bricks. His tan skin appears almost golden in the sunlight as his slightly effeminate figure bends confidently to the side. There’s something about him that you find uniquely beautiful, and the more his eyes bore into yours, the more you felt like you were observing some kind of predatory feline rather than a person. You personally don’t find him attractive, but you can’t deny that something about his presence feels magnetic.

Deciding to break the silence, you speak first, “Uh, hey there, man. You live here?”

He doesn’t answer you immediately, and pulls a pack of cigarettes out from the back pocket of his jeans instead. Pulling one out using only his teeth, he tilts the pack in your direction, his eyebrow quirking as if to ask; want one?

Usually, you weren’t all that much of a smoker. However, you always seemed to find yourself unable to resist one when offered. It was almost like some form of social ritual that you couldn’t quite shake, especially if it had been a long day.

Aw, fuck it. You take a few steps closer, and pull a cigarette from the pack. It rests comfortably on your lips as you wait for the man to light his own. He passes the lighter to you, and you take it with a mumbled thank you in his direction. The sparkwheel turns with ease under your calloused thumb as you breathe in deeply, lungs filling with smoke.

“Yeah I live here, right up on the third floor,” the man finally replies, taking his lighter back from your open palm.

Your eyes widen with the realization that the guy in front of you is none other than one of Tommy’s bandmates. Honestly, you feel a little silly for not immediately making the connection, but lately your mind has been in another place entirely.

“Wait so you know Tommy?”

The man laughs mockingly, “Of course I know that idiot. Kid’s a total terror–and just so happens to be my drummer.” He takes another drag of his cigarette, smirking at you knowingly. “Wait a sec–you’re that girl on the fourth floor, aren’t you?”

Your chest tightens at the knowledge that Tommy had clearly mentioned you before. Deep down you should feel flattered, but on the other hand, god only knows what he had said about you.

“Yep, that would be me,” you admit, silently praying he wouldn’t pry any further. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“I already knew that,” he extends a hand to you, “Vince. Nice to finally meet you.”

You take his hand and shake it, wishing more than anything you could wipe the shit-eating grin off of his face. To your knowledge, you and Tommy were just friends, barely, and here this guy was acting as if he knew something you didn’t.

“Well, thanks for letting me bum a cig, Vince, but I gotta get going,” you take one last puff before letting the cigarette fall lamely to the ground, grinding it into the asphalt with the toe of your boot. It was getting increasingly more difficult to hide your frustration from Vince and you’d much rather be back inside your apartment.

Just as you’re about to turn away, Vince stops you.

“Wait, Y/N! You should really come see us play, I know Tommy would love it.”

When you look at Vince, it seems as though he’s dropped his act a little. The smirk on his face has faded into something softer, and for a moment he seems genuine. You open your mouth to speak, but Vince interrupts you.

“You’re all he talks about, you know.”

For a moment, it feels as though your heart might stop. He talks about me? Honestly, you hadn’t expected Tommy to talk about you in any context other than helping you move and injuring his hand. You manage to keep yourself composed in front of Vince, but on the inside your thoughts are swimming giddily. Although, you’re fairly certain Vince is talking about Tommy, your self-doubt forces you to make sure.

“Who?” You ask, playing dumb. Knowing full well it’s an utterly ridiculous question, you brace yourself for Vince’s reply.

Vince only rolls his eyes as if what you asked was just the same shit, different day. “Tommy, of course,” he huffs. “Jesus, if you’re that fucking stupid I’m sure the two of you are made for each other.”

This time, when the giddy feelings return you let them have free reign. “Well, Vince it was real nice meeting you,” you say, a smile suddenly engraved onto your face. “Make sure my friend Tommy comes over around 7:30. Okay?”

In any other instance, you wouldn’t have allowed some guy you had just met to call you stupid and keep his teeth intact– but today could be an exception. Besides, you couldn’t really deny the fact that you’d set yourself up for it.

Long after you had retreated back to your apartment, you found that Vince’s words were still echoing through your skull.

“You’re all he talks about, you know.”

Despite the fact that Vince lives with Tommy, your skeptical side can’t help but wonder if he was just messing with you earlier. Aside from Tommy drunkenly proclaiming your “beauty”, you really didn’t have much evidence to believe that Tommy would be that fixated on you. Although, you had to admit that Vince seemed pretty earnest when he mentioned it. No one could be that good at acting, could they?

With all this thought about Tommy, you’re horrified to realize that maybe your casual crush was becoming something a little bit more. Something a lot less manageable. Sure you’ve had casual crushes on guys before, everyone does. Whether it was a nice cashier at the supermarket, or an impressively smart teaching assistant– the small crush would be there for a minute and gone in a flash.

Somehow, Tommy was different. Everything about him that should annoy you didn’t, and the thought seeing him was always nestled comfortably in your mind. No one has left an impression on your life quite like he had, and that was worrisome to you. What if he’s just a nice guy? There was always the possibility that he really was just being friendly, and you and the rest of the world were just mistaken.

Trying not to dwell on the matter any longer, you busy yourself with a pot of coffee and flip on the radio. You had just been able to tweak the radio antenna enough to get some kind of signal, when a knock sounded at your door.

“Hey, Y/N! It’s Tommy!”

Glancing over at the clock on the wall, you notice it’s only 7:12pm. He’s early, you think, a smile roseying your cheeks.

Tommy knocks again, growing impatient. “Ya know, for the makeup stuff!”

Chuckling, you open the door to see Tommy’s grinning face lighting up the doorframe. Rather than his usually short tee, or ratty tank top and jeans, he’s wearing tight leather pants and a short-sleeved mesh top. You notice his top is secured to his chest with some kind of harness that resembles both a dog collar and a seatbelt; it was like nothing you’d ever seen before.

“You’re early,” you comment, stepping aside so he can walk past you.

“Oh, sorry about that, dude,” he lightly punches your shoulder in a playful manner, “I just couldn’t wait any longer. We finished setting up at the venue early and I’ve been bored to death.”

“Thanks for the gift, by the way,” you remark, suddenly remembering the little cactus Tommy left on your doorstep on Tuesday.

Tommy perks up, practically bouncing on his heels in excitement. “Wait did you really like it? The damn thing ended up giving me five splinters, but it was so worth it.”

“I love it,” you said earnestly, “it’s actually been sitting on my windowsill since I brought it in.” You point to your open bedroom door where the little jar can be seen soaking up the sunlight.

“Right on!” You suppress a giggle as Tommy actually pumps his fist excitedly. There isn’t a single person on the planet that you’ve seen express their joy so openly and eagerly as Tommy does. He was like a puppy, in a way; just stoked on everything and happy to be alive.

Tommy eventually flops onto a chair at your dining table, obviously drawn to the pile of makeup you had been accumulating for tonight. He picks up a bottle of foundation and shakes it, all the while holding it up to his ear like he’s expecting to hear the ocean.

“Is this all for me?”

You take the bottle out of his hand and place it firmly on the table. “Well some of it is,” you remark poignantly and gesture to a small paper bag next to your tote of makeup. “This is what I got for you, but we’re also going to play around with some of mine, okay?”

Tommy’s enthusiasm is unshakable. “Righteous!”

You can’t help but love how enthusiastic Tommy is about doing his makeup for the show. Sure, rockstars doing theatrical stage makeup was nothing new, but something about Tommy being secure enough in himself to want to give it a shot was admirable.

“Ready to get started then, drummer boy?” You allow yourself to flash Tommy a flirtatious smile, figuring that, no matter what happened between the two of you, you were determined to have as much fun as possible. Let’s face it, hanging out with Tommy makes you happy, even if there’s a possibility that it’ll never be anything more than platonic.

“Hell yeah, man! I can’t wait ‘til you’re done, Nikki is going to be so jealous.”

Leaving Tommy to sit at the dining table, you went to your bathroom to get a hand mirror, and some clips to pin Tommy’s hair back. “Nikki?”

“Nikki-fucking-Sixx, dude! He’s Mötley Crüe’s bass player,” Tommy says, all the while inspecting the variety of makeup products on the table, “and probably my best friend.”

When you eventually meet Tommy at the dining table, he’s still rambling on about Nikki. “I swear, he’s the raddest guy ever– and he always does the coolest makeup, but I’m not nearly as good. I want to be, though. Most def,” he nods decisively, his eyes sparkling with adoration for his friend.

“He does sound rad,” you agree, “did you want me to try and do something he would do?”

“Yeah dude! But I was thinking we could do something a little more me, ya know? Like I kind of want to look like a vampire, but, like, a punk vampire.” Tommy’s face is animated with excitement, his hands gesturing wildly as he describes his ideal stage persona. “Nikki’s more into a warpaint kinda look, but we could make that fit, right?”

You look down at Tommy, he’s so tall that, even sitting down, the two of you may as well be eye to eye. If you were being honest, Tommy’s request is a bit bizarre, but all rock and roll aesthetics kind of are. You try to envision a classic Halloween vampire look in your head, but all you seem to come up with is the traditional hollowed out cheeks and heavy eyeliner. It’s all so pathetically overdone.

How can we possibly make this work? Shifting your gaze from his face to the makeup on the table, a pan of fuschia eyeshadow catches your attention, instantly transforming the vision in your head. You bite your lip, hoping that Tommy will be on board with it when the time comes.

“Okay, Tommy. I think I have an idea. Is it okay if I move your hair out of your face?”

“Go for it, dude.”

You pluck a barrette off of the table and place it between your teeth, leaving both hands free to twist Tommy’s shaggy layers into place. His hair is light and fluffy against your fingertips, and somewhere deep down you wish that you could find more excuses to play with it in the future. Pulling a clump of his wavy fringe back, you secure it with a satisfying snap of the barrette.

“Ow! Y/N! That fucking hurt,” Tommy hisses, reaching for his head defensively.

You swat his hand away mercilessly, “Beauty is pain, drummer boy.”

“Since when?”

“Since, I said so,” you begin pinning back the other half of his fringe, trying not to laugh as Tommy cringes in discomfort. “God, where was all this complaining when you nearly cut your hand off?”

“Oh come on, that was so different and you know it!” Tommy’s working hard at maintaining his stubborn pout, but you can see the smile threatening to escape beneath it.

You pick up the bottle of your foundation Tommy was messing with earlier and start shaking it up. “Alright, tough guy. I’m going to need you to start paying attention for this part.”

Gently, you place your fingers under Tommy’s chin and tilt his head up so you can see better. You squeeze a few drops of foundation onto Tommy’s face, then use a wedged beauty sponge to pat it into his skin.

“Do I need to close my eyes?” Tommy asks, seeming genuinely concerned.

“Nah, not until I work on your eyes.” As you pat in the foundation, you realize that maybe your shade is just a little too light to be a perfect match for Tommy’s sun kissed complexion. It’s a little odd, but maybe it works for the subtle vampiric look he’s going for. “This is just a little foundation, alright? Really you don’t need much of it, but I think it’ll help everything else stick.”

When you feel as though his face is thoroughly covered, you grab the pan of bright pink eyeshadow, and a large brush you’d typically be using for regular blush.

“Okay, so I was thinking, maybe we could do those crazy, dead-looking vampire cheeks,” you begin, “but instead of using black, we use pink instead...” you trail off and hold your breath, worrying that the idea you’re proposing is too feminine for Tommy’s liking.

Much to your surprise, Tommy looks completely stoked at the idea. “That sounds awesome! No one would ever expect it,” he gushes, “plus, I’m wearing all black so it’ll really stand out. I’m gonna look like a fuckin’ superhero.”

Tommy’s excitement suddenly gives you a newfound confidence in your abilities. You really appreciate the way that Tommy makes you feel like you can do anything, and wonder if other people feel the same way whenever he’s around.

Blotting your fluffy brush, you set to work carving out his angular cheekbones with the hot pink pigment. Shockingly, it doesn’t look nearly as insane as you feared it might. It actually looks kind of cool, and reminds you of a more exaggerated version of the new wave fashion you typically hated. One thing’s for sure, Tommy was absolutely right when he said that no one was going to expect it.

Despite how still Tommy had been when you applied the foundation, something about the way you were applying the color to his cheeks was causing him to fidget.

“Jesus Christ, that fucking tickles!” he exclaimed, bursting out in a fit of laughter.

You giggle at his sudden outburst, having to use both hands to wrestle his head back into place so you can finish. “Come on, you freak! Hold still, or you’re going to make me mess up.” If you weren’t quite literally putting pink eyeshadow on Tommy’s face, you’d dare to say he was blushing.

When you finish hollowing out his already angular face, you hold up the hand mirror so that he can properly assess your progress. Immediately, Tommy yanks the mirror out of your hands, his mouth falling open in shock.

“Holy fucking shit, this is so gnarly!” he’s smiling from ear to ear, and you can’t help but feel your chest swell with a little bit of pride. It’s true that you’re no makeup artist, but it didn’t really matter what anyone else was going to think so long as Tommy was happy with it.

“Alright, alright. Settle down, because now we’re getting into the hard stuff.”

The final step is eyeliner and eyeshadow, which is actually what you feel the most competent at. However, with the way Tommy is seated while you remain standing is going to make the process a little complicated. It probably wouldn’t be so bad if Tommy wasn’t so goddamn tall in comparison to rest of the human population.

Grabbing a freshly sharpened eye pencil, you lean in get a good view of Tommy’s eyes. “Look up for me,” you instruct and Tommy complies.

As you work the pencil into his waterline, you realize that you’re unable to get a good enough angle to actually apply it evenly.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath, clearing becoming frustrated at how terrible the eyeliner is looking compared to the rest of his makeup.

“What’s the matter?” Tommy asks, looking up at you earnestly.

You can’t stop a sigh from escaping your lips, “Oh nothing major. It’s just hard to work on your eyes with you being so tall– and I know sitting in a chair isn’t going to help our cause.”

“I’m not tall, you’re just a shorty,” Tommy mocks, sticking his tongue out at you playfully. Tommy’s antics ease your frustration a little, but you’re still worried about how you’re going to successfully complete the look in time for his show.

As you try to think of other solutions, Tommy sudden speaks up.

“I have an idea, Y/N...but you’re not going to like it.”

“What is it?” You find that the sudden apprehension in Tommy’s voice is making you more and more nervous by the second.

“I’ll tell you but you have to promise you won’t get mad,” Tommy’s face is suddenly more serious than you’ve ever seen it.

“Get mad? Why on earth would I get mad?”

“Promise first!” Tommy insists.

You throw the eyeliner pencil down on the table in exasperation, “Okay fine I promise, now please just tell me.”

“You could sit in my lap,” Tommy blurts out, his words connected by a string of anxiety.

Your first instinct is to laugh at the absurdity of Tommy’s idea, automatically assuming he’s pulling an elaborate prank on you. However, a quick assessment of Tommy’s grave facial expression makes you realize he’s dead serious.

“Oh my god,” you scoff, “you can’t be fucking serious.”

Tommy throws his hands up in defeat. “See! I knew you’d be fucking mad, god this is so embarrassing.” He rests his head in his hands, his fingertips most definitely making contact with the makeup job you just did, but you don’t have the heart to accost him over it.

You consider Tommy’s proposition, deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt for a moment. “So...how do I know that this isn’t just some attempt to get into my pants, huh?”

“Listen,” Tommy starts, clearly on the defense, “I just figured because my legs are so long you wouldn’t even have to get that close to me, okay? Look, I’ll even put my hands behind my back if you want.”

Tommy demonstrates by clasping his hands together behind the back of the chair. “See? It’s that easy,” he looks at you triumphantly, clearly believing in his heart that his logic is rock solid.

Against all odds, you actually consider what Tommy is saying for a moment. You think about all the other guys you’ve met in your life and know that you’d be absolutely out of your mind to fall for whatever Tommy was trying to pull. On the other hand, would it really be so bad if you did go along with it?

“Fuck it,” you say, throwing your sense of caution and self-preservation completely out the window.

This seems to surprise Tommy quite a bit, his wide-eyed expression hilarious against the backdrop of his half-finished stage makeup. The way you figure it, if Tommy managed to maintain his control while passed out drunk on your floor the first night you met, he most likely wasn’t trying to pull anything now.

Approaching Tommy, you try your best to keep your cool but can’t deny the way your heart is pounding against your ribcage.

“Just know, if you try anything I will break you in half,” you threaten, knowing full well that the only way you could kick Tommy’s ass is if he let you.

Tommy puts his hands back behind the chair once again, this time keeping them there. “What did I tell you?” he laughs, instantly removing some of the tension that had been building up over the last few minutes.

With a heavy sigh, you place a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, effectively using him for leverage, as you swing a leg over both of his. You gently rest the remainder of your weight onto his knees until you’re straddling him at the furthest distance possible. To your pleasant surprise, you fit in Tommy’s lap comfortably.

Being closer to him than ever before, you can now smell the woodsy scent of his cologne in combination with the cigarette smoke that clung to his clothes. To prevent your mind from wandering, you decide to put all of your energy into focusing on the task at hand.

“Alright, I guess we’ll finish this then,” you say, swallowing your nerves and reaching for the eyeliner. Tommy only smiles back at you victoriously, completely aware that he won the battle.

“Ugh for chrissakes, if you keep smiling at me like that your face is going to stick that way,” you complain, going back to work on smoking out his eyeliner.

Tommy flinches a little at the lack of warning, but quickly adjusts. “Why wouldn’t I be smiling? There’s a pretty girl in my lap!”

You don’t want to laugh, but you can’t help yourself. There’s something about Tommy that seems to bring out the best in you.

“Yeah well you won’t be laughing when I punch you in the dick.”

Tommy snorts with laughter, “There’s the mean girl I know and love.”

You ignore him, but a smile still remains firmly planted on your face. Oddly enough, Tommy doesn’t seem to mind having his eyeliner done all that much. After you’ve successfully created two smokey black rings around Tommy’s eyes, you decide to take some of the pink pigment from earlier and add it to his eyelids. You try your best to explain how you’re doing it along the way, but describing the process is a lot harder than it seemed. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, being able to sit on Tommy’s lap like this actually helps tremendously.

Per Tommy’s request, you end up adding two solid black lines to the right side of his face so that he can look “just a little more like Nikki”. It’s obvious that Tommy admires Nikki a lot more than he had been letting on, which is almost hard to believe considering how highly he speaks about him already.

When you finish, you unclip the barrettes in Tommy’s hair, mussing it up with your hands in an attempt to get his shaggy locks back into place. Holding hand mirror up to Tommy’s face once more, you figure that the look has to be just about done if Tommy ever hopes of being able to recreate it without you.

“I love it! I totally fucking love it, thank you so fucking much,” he lets the mirror fall slowly onto the table, his eyes meeting yours with a familiar stare that you can’t quite put your finger on. “Can I ask for one more thing?”

“Sure, what is it?” you ask, eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

“The lipstick you’re wearing, do you think you could put some on me?”

You had all but forgotten the fact that you’d put on a red lipstick earlier in the day, and found yourself surprised it had even stayed on this long. “Sure thing, man. It’s in my purse though so let me just go get it real quick–”

As you move to get up, you feel a large hand grip the side of your thigh. The touch is gentle, yet firm enough to hold you in place.

“Tommy what are you…” you try to finish your sentence, but end up getting lost his gaze. The deep blue of his eyes makes you shiver involuntarily, and there’s no doubt in your mind that Tommy could feel it.

“I think I can get it myself,” he murmurs as his lips catch yours, pulling you into a gentle kiss.

Part 4

Masterlist

#it's finally done #whew am i exhausted #neighborly series #neighborly part 3 #mgk!tommy lee #mgk!tommy lee x reader #tommy lee #tommy lee x reader #motley crue #mötley crüe #vince neil #nikki sixx #mick mars #the dirt #the dirt movie #the dirt netflix

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royallyprincesslilly · 5 years

Text

Late (20.3)

Chapter Warnings: Angst, Plot, Blood

Word Count: 3640K

Note: Wheeew, I know, I know, I know. This took FOREVER. I’m sorry, truly. I told you guys I wanted to make this perfect especially because we are at the end and I don’t want to put out half-assed work and I wanted to make the necessary connections. I hope you guys enjoy this. I also have been going through a writing drought and haven’t felt the want to write. I know my issues and not yours, I’m sorry. Without further a due, ta-da!

***Loosely edited/proofread

******Interactive Chapter(KINDA, PICTURES COUNT :) )***

Thank you guys for reading. I appreciate it. If you enjoyed this, please LIKE and REBLOG. ❤️ ❤️ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wakanda was abuzz with the latest gossip of Ma’Uchi, Nakia, Tandra and W’Kabi and the attempted coup. No one could believe the lengths Nakia went to and no one could believe the fate the group shared and how T’Challa had went from one side of the spectrum to dropping the full weight of Wakanda’s rule upon them.

Everyone was now wondering when the king would finally give into his love for Y/N. In truth Wakanda was ready for the dawn of the era the king had promised.

You sat in the garden watching the sun set behind the Jabari mountains and smiled. You now had more of a fondness for the Jabari and their leader Lord M’Baku and you were excited about the potential for not only Wakanda’s growth but also the Jabari. You’d decided to finally unite all the tribes for a stronger Wakanada, all that was left was to reason with the king and help him see the logic of your words. You didn’t think it would be a hard task especially after he knew of the details of today.

You took a deep breath in and slowly released it. As you did you felt the stress and anxiety from the last few months dissipating. As you took another deep inhale you felt a sort of freedom you hadn’t felt in months. You closed your eyes hoping to relish the feeling for as long as you could. You didn’t know how long you sat there but by the time you opened your eyes you saw the queen mother sitting next to you. You jumped in shock before she placed a soothing hand upon your knee.

“It is just me,” Ramonda calmly voiced.

You smiled and nodded, relaxing yourself. The sun had disappeared behind the mountains and the sky was filled with hundreds of stars. The same stars that always made you think of T’Challa. You smiled to yourself.

“By yourself?” Ramonda asked.

“Yes.”

“Hm, interesting. I did not expect you to be by yourself. In fact i expected you and my son to be deep in conversation at this time,” she continued.

“The king is a busy man. After the debacle of today i am sure he had a lot to see to,” you reasoned.

“I am sure he did, but I didn’t expect anything to be more important than you.”

You sighed and looked to Ramonda’s face. She had a sly smile on her lips as she stared up into the star speckled night sky. After a few moments she looked to you and smiled wider.

“Unless it is you who is hiding,” she finished.

She’d guessed it, hit the nail right on the head, stolen the cookie from the cookie jar, pieced it together. You doubted it was a hard puzzle to put together. You looked down to your hands and entangled your fingers together before untangling them only to do the action again and again.

“Why are you hiding?” Ramonda asked when minutes passed of silence and her careful observation of your face.

You didn’t know the right words to speak, you didn’t even know what to say.

“Y/N?” Ramonda urged.

“A lot has happened. The last forty-eight hours have sped by like a tornado and in it’s wake everything has changed but quite possibly nothing. All that is certain is there is so much uncertainty,” you rushed out in one breath.

“You are right, a lot has happened. A lot has changed because of what has happened, but the only way to shed light on the unknown is by addressing it,” Ramonda counseled.

You knew what she was saying was true, still when the chance came you ran away.

“Wakanda owes you a debt Y/N. I owe you a debt.”

“You owe me nothing. I did this for Wakanda, for you. You all deserved to know the truth, you deserved some form of peace. I only hope that by dredging up the painful past I have not disrupted T’Chaka in the ancestral plane and I have not broken your heart all over again,” you confessed.

Ramonda took your hands within hers and firmly squeezed them as she turned to face you.

“Y/N, T’Chaka blesses you. I have been consulting with the ancestors and they are forever indebted to you for your actions. For rooting out the evil within Wakanda. What you have done is no small feat, but it’s benefits will spread across the land. As for my pain, it will never go away, never but you have lessened it by shining light on the truth. A grave injustice was done to our family, an injustice that broke us down, but you are the piece that will mend us and build us up, starting with the king,” Ramonda spoke.

You allowed her words to seep into your brain.

“How can I mend anything. I am not Wakandan.”

“Like hell you are not. Do you think you are Wakandan just by being born here, by being born with the blood in your veins? If that were the case all of the world is greatly mistaken of their heritage. You are not merely Wakandan because of blood, or birth but because of your heart, your soul. You were Wakandan when you put the happiness and prosperity if its people before your own happiness and prosperity. You are Wakandan when you embody the ways of our practices and teachings, you are Wakandan being true not only to the spirit of Bast herself but by being true to the land. All of which you have done since the day you got here and every day you continue to do so. You are Wakandan because even when your heart broke you chose the ways and people over your own wants, your own love. My child you are Wakanda,” Ramonda finished.

You smiled to yourself and looked up to the sky.

“But, you must stop running. You must forge ahead.”

You nodded and sighed again.

“You’re right.”

“I know I’m right,” Ramonda teased. You snorted and let out a laugh. A laugh you didn’t recognize. It had been so long since you last laughed—too long.

“Now, I am going to tell my son to stop pacing a hole in the floor of his office and to follow his heart and senses to you and you are going to sit here looking as beautiful as ever and forge ahead,” she ordered. You smiled and nervously nodded.

Ramonda stood and gently touched your forehead before she walked away back inside the palace leaving you alone again in the garden. You took another deep breath realizing your heart was not pounding at a maddening pace.

“Relax Y/N, relax,” you calmly recited.

You sat there running through the endless possibilities in your head at break neck speed. You went through tens of scenarios all ending differently, but all evoked the same feelings in you. You felt as if you were going to pass out from the anticipation and the unknown. You wondered if he still felt the same way, wondered if any part of him still wanted you. You wondered if everything had changed for him. You worried about so many of his feelings or lack there of that after ten minutes you began pacing the stone walkway in the garden obsessing over it all.

“Y/N.”

You quickly spun around with a distressed look on your face to see Okoye standing there.

“Okoye.”

“Was I interrupting?”

“No, no. Well yes but I'm grateful. I was going down an endless rabbit hole of what ifs and it had to stop, so thank you,” you said as she approached you.

“Are you all right?” You nodded only lying partially.

“Okoye, i wanted to thank you for today, thank you for all you have done in this crazy scheme of mine,” you began.

Okoye smiled a rare smile that paused you.

“I was happy to help Y/N. I should be thanking you for saving me from a fate worse than death if I had married W’Kabi,” she said with a look of disgust on her face.

“I still can’t believe his part in all this,” you added.

“Neither can I, I never suspected and I feel like such a fool,” she continued. You took her hand gently.

“Okoye, you are not a fool. He was simply good at covering his tracks, they all were. So if you are a fool so is the rest of Wakanda, the king included,” you teased.

Okoye smiled again.

“Well I have always been convinced the king was a fool, and was further proved right watching him these last years,” Okoye laughed, a laugh you joined in on.

“Speaking of the king, I have something for you,” she said holding out an envelope with the Wakandan king’s seal.

You took the envelope and stared at it.

“The staff have prepared your old bedroom for you,” Okoye informed. You nodded and watched her turn and begin to walk back inside the palace. Before she walked inside she stooped and looked back to you.

“Y/N,” Okoye began. You looked to her.

“He is lucky to have you.” Okoye said then the corner inside the palace.

You stood there for a few more minutes before you decided against opening it. Instead you walked back inside the palace toward your bedroom contemplating what he’d written in the envelope.

Once you were safely behind your familiar doors you looked around and took in your surroundings. Everything looked the same as if nothing had been touched. The walls were still the way you’d requested, as was the decor. You leaned your back against the door and pressed the envelope to your chest willing your heart to slow.

After a few moments, you walked further into the room toward the window at the moon shining in. You stood there and unsealed the envelope to open the king’s stationary.

“Wakanda owes you a debt.”

Short and simple, short and mysterious in meaning. You looked at the back of the card bu there was nothing else written. Confusion began to rise as you realized he was most likely not going to meet you tonight.

You put the card down on your desk and looked around the room again. You walked to your bed and softly traced your hand along the patterned duvet to one of the posts. You walked around the room taking in everything. You didn’t know how much you missed this until just now. You’d missed it greatly. you walked into the bathroom and began filling the copper claw-foot tub. You’d missed this tub. While it was old fashioned it was decked out with modern luxuries. At the touch of a button it could be transformed into a luxurious whirlpool, jetted spa escape filled with over fifteen massage patterns. This bad boy was the reason you’d been changed to a bath lover again after nearly a lifetime of preferring showers. Now you spent hours upon hours sitting in this tub.

You began undressing out of the Dora uniform and filled the tub with the luxuries you loved, essential oils, flower petals, bath salts, a special blended soap that produced the most exhilarating bubbles that some how worked to easily melt away any stress leaving you and your body in the most amazing state of relaxation. You couldn’t wait.

As you walked around the bathroom preparing things for your bath you did your best to not think about anything or anyone. If you thought anymore your head would burst. Once you’d freed yourself and only had your bra and underwear on you swirled your hand in the water to test the temperature was right. Smiling you began to rise but was struck back down by a kick to the back of your calf. You dropped back to the hard floor. Before you could turn to see who or what it was the mystery intruder grabbed your head and pushed it into the tub submerging your head under the water. You screamed in the water which produced no sound. It only brought water into your nose and lungs. You flailed your arms around behind you trying to grab the person. Every time your hand made connection to a garment of clothes they pulled away and sunk your head even further under the water.

After a minute of struggle your actions slowed, your head became heavy, your vision became speckled with bright lights. Your logic told you that you were running out of time. You tried your best to think about your immediate surroundings. You stopped trying to grab the intruder and began to reach for the retractable shower head that was attached to the tub your plan clear in your head. It was difficult to maneuver as your actions slowed more and you felt yourself begin to involuntarily convulse. In the recesses of your mind you knew you only had seconds. Your hands grasped the shower head but it was stuck. You yanked as hard as you could freeing the retractable cord. Gripping it you swung it back behind you and heard an enraged grunt. The action gave you a few seconds of reprieve. You pulled your head out the water and gasped for the precious commodity you desperately needed.

Again you felt the intruder trying to overtake you. You swung your head back connecting with their head. In an instant you felt dizziness ring through your head. Now you were righting two battles, lack of oxygen and dizziness, the odds were definitely stacked against you. You tried to get up but slipped on the flooded floor and dropped back down. You slid and spun around seeing Nakia standing there.

“Nakia?” you spoke in complete shock and confusion.

She dove to you but you ducked instead grabbing her calves and hoisted her up and over your head. You heard a loud crash and a scream. You spun around and saw Nakia splayed on the floor atop the broken the shards of the glass shower door. She groaned as she slowly rose to her hands and knees. She looked to you, blood dripping from several cuts on her face. She looked like pure rage.

“How did you get free?”

“I’ve lived in this place longer than you. I know every hidden tunnel and path. I’ve always known how to get in here. I could have killed you any time I wanted but a Queen doesn’t dirty her hands. She watches as other do her bidding, but now you have pissed me off and if you want something done right you have to do it yourself,” Nakia spat before she dove for you. She landed on top of you tackling you to the wet floor. She drew back her hand and landed a blow to your face. You struggled with her trying to overpower her. You rolled on top of her and punched her three times before she rolled to reclaim the upper hand. She managed to get her hands around you neck and began to squeeze.

“You thought I would just let you win? Did you really think I would just give up and go to the island? You are even dumber than I thought. You will never have him, you will never have Wakanda.”

You gagged and pushed your hands between hers and pushed them apart forcing her to release your neck. A move T’Challa showed you in one of your many sparring matches. You wasted no time grabbing her wrists and twisting them. She screamed loudly and you kicked her off of you over your head into the wooden panel along the wall. You rolled to your knees quickly watching her every move. It was past reasoning with her. There was no reasoning with her. No granting her mercy, nothing would work. Nakia stood up wiping the blood from her mouth. You stood and stared at her, expecting the worst, preparing for it.

Nakia took up a crystal candle holder and charged to you attempting to strike you. You evaded every attempt recognizing she was no longer strategizing, she was attacking on pure rage. She was at her weakest. You took the opportunity to punch her, but she pushed you on the wall and returned the hit. You sunk down and slid through her opened legs. You turned in time to see her coming for you, you kicked out the vanity stool to her forcing her to trip over it. You hurried to the door but saw it was locked from the outside. Nakia wrapped her arm around your neck placing you in a choke-hold.

“No escape, only through death.”

You elbowed her feeling your anger rise to the dangerous level. You turned and kicked her in her gut. She staggered backwards and tried to unsuccessfully evade your onslaught of hits. Each of your hits landed with precision. You felt stronger than you had in a long time. You took a deep breath in and charged Nakia. She landed on the hard floor with a loud thud. You wrapped your hands around her neck and squeezed with all your strength. She gagged and tried to pry your hands free. The fear in her eyes rose and it filled you with even more strength, it was intoxicating. You heard your Kimoyo beads ring from across the room. In the commotion they must have fallen off. In your distracted stare Nakia managed to grab a sliver of the broken glass and slash your collar. You drew back from the pain, she took the opportunity to roll on top of you and inch the glass closer to your jugular.

Every second she inched closer and closer, you struggled back and forth with her strength. When she gained an inch you pushed her back an inch only for the cycle to continue back and forth. You groaned as you saw the glass mere centimeters from your skin. Nakia smiled sinisterly as she kept her eye on the prize, your neck. You felt the sharp edge of the glass puncture your neck, pain rang through you and alarm filled you. You fought against the urge to panic, instead you released one hand to reach for the large shard you saw to the side. The action gave Nakia more leeway to sink her shard further into your neck. You gagged tasting your blood in your throat. You quickly lunged to the shard allowing the glass to sink a few more centimeters into your skin. It was the only way. You grabbed the shard and quickly slammed Nakia to her back and rammed the glass into her chest. Nakia gasped out in shock, but her actions into stop. She reached for a smaller piece of the glass and stabbed it into your abdomen. You gasped and convulsed taking in the impact and the pain of the object.

“You—will not—have—him,” Nakia stuttered out.

You raised your mouth into a vindictive snarl.

“Neither will you!” You shouted and pulled the glass from her chest to ram it into her chest again. You repeated the action two more times, on the final stab you sunk it into her heart. Nakia gurgled her blood oozing from her mouth as she stared at you, all her actions seized. You heard her cough and release her last terrorizing breath.

You sat atop her waiting for her to spring back up like the horror show she was, but after almost thirty seconds of no movement you let go of the shard of glass still sticking from her chest. Your bloodied hands violently shook and weakness overtook you. You toppled of her to the blood covered floor and began gasping for air. You reached your hand to your neck and felt the glass still protruding from your throat. You heard pounding at the door but it was too far for you to make it there. You’d never make it. Your hand slowly traveled to the second piece of glass sticking out from your abdomen and felt tears sting your eyes as reality crept in. Reality was you were dying, reality was Nakia had finally gotten what she wanted, reality was you’d now killed two people. Reality was that these were your last moments. You stared into the ceiling at a replica of the Wakandan night sky and saw a bright light creep in from the corners of your eyes. You heard a loud snap and shrieks of horror before scuffling footsteps. You heard your name as if it was someone far away and it was then T’Challa dropped to your side with a haunted look on his face.

Everything moved in slow motion and you heard nothing but muffled voices. T’Challa hesitated touching you as he examined your body. When his eyes landed on the glass protruding from your neck the look on his face spoke of fear. Your reality had finally registered with him. T’Challa looked away from you and shouted. You felt the trickles of his tears drip on your cheek and a deep sorrow filled you. You slowly lifted your hand to his face. You traced your bleeding hand along his cheek, down to his jaw. There was so much to say but no time, you opened your mouth to speak but no sound came out.

Fresh tears streamed down your face as you realized this was your last moment with him. T’Challa clasped his hand over yours and nuzzled his face into your palm, but you didn’t feel it. You’d read somewhere that when you were dying your senses would slowly fade. You could not smell him, you could not hear him, nor could you taste the blood you knew filled your throat and mouth. You saw his lips move but the light that was at the corners of your eyes now took over and with that, your sight went.

To Be Continued...

Tag List:

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Author’s AFTER-NOTE: Are y'all OK?

#late fic #king t'challa #t'challa x reader #t'challa x you #the black panther #black panther fanfiction #slow burn #angst fic #Wakanda forever #t'challa fic #t'challa smut

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ryuukia · 5 years

Text

[Translation] Tsukiuta. -if- Black Rabbits Kingdom Booklet Novel: Afternoon

I promised I’d finish this before the year ends, so here’s it is (this emotional rollercoaster). This is the last chapter in the black novel.

I’m not sure if Ruby moved past page 1 in the white novel but I guess we’ll figure out together how to work on it.

Special thanks to @ryota-kunstranslations and @moonlit-manifesto for assistance and proofreading. Please don’t repost/reuse my translations!

“Ahhhh……, having some black tea after work is delicious.”

As he elegantly held the beautifully shaped teacup in his hand - a present from the Western Kingdom of Cats - I was unable to directly see his smile.

“G-good work today, Haru-san.”

Kakerun, Kakerun, your face is so puffed up.

That’s what I thought, but there’s no way I could point that out.

Because after all, I have the same expression myself.

On the other hand, Aoi-san and Hajime-san who were sitting next to him, were sporting bitter smiles.

The only one who’s unchanged is Arata…… The one who disrupted that silent atmosphere.

No, he probably wasn’t even thinking at all.

“Haru-san, you’re in top shape today as usual.”

“That’s right. We had pretty good accomplishments. No…… Actually I have two or three stories though.”

“Haru, don’t overdo it too much.”

“If the king says so. Then I’ll keep this ace up my sleeve for the next time something similar happens.”

As he said those words with a grin, the smiles imprinted on Kakeru’s face and mine hardened.

Today, a very important meeting was organized in order to decide the budget of the next fiscal year.

However, today’s topics can only be considered as some sort of opening ceremony, including a general estimation of the amount of money for each branch. For about the next ten days, all of the details will be worked out. Even right now, a mountain of official papers containing enormous numbers is currently piled up in the room next to Hajime-san’s office.

Just by looking at that mountain of documents from distance, I somehow feel a light shiver running through my body. I heard Hajime-san and Haru-san speak while they are focused on those reports.

‘Since the basics are already set inside our heads, we don’t really have to look over the documents, you know? These are only needed for information sharing and formality’s sake.’

Despite having the usual and other things being explained in such a smooth manner, that afternoon I came to realize that the king and the prime-minister are to be eternally unreachable.

(Ah wait, even so, I was told that the other countries’ kings and prime-ministers are far from being like that! These two here are just on an entirely different level! There’s no way it means I’m falling behind, that’s what it is, yeah!)

…… Wait, I’m straying from the topic.

In any case, that important meeting took place, but at the very end of it, today’s main conflict.... or rather, how Haru-san divided the money himself caused a public hearing.

No, I’ll make this clear.

I call it a public hearing, but in reality it’s more accurate to call it a “public execution”.

The other party consisted of some shady merchants that were caught for tax evasion, based on an investigation conducted days ago.

Furthermore, it seems that a huge amount of money was stolen that way, and the gentle Haru-san outright lost his temper when we found out they’d been selling weapons on a large scale in order to incite wars with other countries.

In the end, there was a public execution but, …...yeah, in any case, it was scary. It really was.

There’s no doubt everyone was thinking about those attendants that came out from that meeting.

(The crime is not worth the price…...)

I swore in my heart that even in poverty I’d live a pure and upstanding life, I sure did.

“Haru, sometimes you gain too many victories.” Hajime-san said slowly.

During that meeting, he stood on his throne in the centre and watched over the process without saying too much.

Despite not knowing why, I stretched my back.

The words uttered by Hajime-san always have a deep significance to them and seem to accumulate within me.

It feels like one day they will become my own source of encouragement.

“Although it was a good fight and you were victorious, don’t overdo it. There’s no need for you to make enemies.”

As he heard Hajime-san’s words, Haru-san smiled bitterly.

“Ye~s, that’s right. I get it. I know, it’s a bad habit. But even so……”

Haru-san had said before that he hated wars.

Especially wars started for no good reason because of humans’ selfish desire to shed blood. Those are things he’s unable to forgive.

“No matter the country, every king is working desperately to build a peaceful world where living quietly is natural. But, you won’t be given benefits just by being there. On top of the service given to you, hurting other people with what you do is simply unforgivable.

He spoke calmly, but hearing Haru-san, who is always gentle and kind, saying such strong words as “I hate” and “unforgivable” surprised me a little.

I guess he noticed that.

Haru-san looked at me and said “Sorry”.

That made me remember.

If I’m not wrong, Haru-san came from an orphanage that rescued war orphans.

This country was also dragged into a war for three years until Hajime-san became the king, and since then it’s been peaceful like calm waters.

Until a while ago, people had nothing else to focus on except fighting.

(...... There were a lot of casualties.)

Haru-san muttered only a few words.

“Because of personal circumstances, I guess I lose my temper sometimes.”

While saying so, Haru-san’s imposing ears lowered a bit.

I shook my head in a hurry.

“But, looking at it now, I feel relieved. Haru-san wasn’t wrong. Besides, I’m sure the reason why Haru-san got angry is a gentle one!”

“Koi……”

The one who laughed was Aoi-san.

“Ahaha. The truth is that I feel sorry for those teary-eyed merchants, though I’m also relieved.”

If Aoi-san opens his mouth, even the slightest dull mood would be quickly dispelled and cleansed.

As one would expect, he’s the symbol of luck the entire country is proud of and a real sparkling prince.

His cleansing powers in this kind of situation are splendid.

“The measures taken for the crime they committed are legally justified. The measures aren’t misplaced and I think that in this way, this will be a good discipline for those kinds of people. Right, Hajime-san?”

Upon being asked for agreement, Hajime-san laughed abruptly without missing a beat.

I felt the temperature around me rise instantly.

“Well…… I guess you’re right. There was no incorrect word in your judgement this time to begin with, so all the merits for discovering both the tax evasion and the business they did behind our backs go to you. …… You helped a great deal. Good work, Haru.”

Any person from this country knows that the consoling words and compliments coming from the king are, probably, magical words meant to uplift your spirit.

“Thank you. Aoi-kun, and Hajime too.”

Seeing Haru-san laughing with his usual gentle expression made me sigh in relief.

The moment that I felt relieved, I felt hungry. I took a bite from the homemade apple pie in front of me that Aoi-san had just sliced.

The aromatic fragrance of the flaky crust tickles the tip of my nose and makes me happy.

As soon as I started to chew, the apple pie’s flavour started to overflow in my mouth and the sweet syrup made my head quiver.

“Nn~~~~”

Sweet, but not heavy.

No matter how many slices I have, I can go confidently through the entire hall and say this is the most delicious pie.

If he were to open a shop, that shop would have queues just to get in, there’s no mistake.

(And if Aoi-san’s face were to be on the shop window, it would be impossible to buy without reservation.)

I ended up thinking how people who can do anything are amazing, about how delicious the apple pie was, about other things I was impressed by, and just like that, I quickly finished eating.

But even so, I can still go on.

Another helping! Thus, I stretched my hand triumphantly towards the piece I’d been eyeing since forever……

“Ah!?”

A hand stretching from my side managed to get it before I did, making me unconsciously shriek.

Nevertheless, the owner of that hand didn’t hesitate at all to smoothly bring the pie to his mouth.

“Aaand, it’s gone!! Wait, Arata! I wanted that one! You absolutely saw I was about to grab it, didn’t you!?”

Arata looked at me in a dull manner after swallowing with a gulp what he was chewing and said:

“First come, first served.”

He snorted at me and then continued laughing.

(Darn it!)

“You’re right! You’re right! But to think that it was taken by you, it makes me angry!”

“What’s with that. There are more left, so just eat another one. Let’s see, you should eat the most delicious one there.”

“That’s Hajime-san’s! Hajime-san’s been thinking of having that slice since a while ago, it’s obvious!”

“......”

“Hajime-san, it’s alright. I was already thinking of giving it to you later but, don’t worry, you weren’t being completely obvious at all!”

“Kakeru, you’re applying salt to the wound, you really are.”

I stood up from my seat trembling, but still acted cool while my partner Kakerun and Haru-san comforted Hajime-san.

So I faced my nemesis, and declared.

“It’s a duel, Arata! I’ll take you on for that pie grudge!”

…...It’s decided.

To the sir with the camera, if you want to take a photo, do it now.

“The one who’s going to regret this is you……. Okay then, what’s the duel?”

Arata replied glaring, and then stood up from his seat like it was a chore to move.

“Swordsmanship, of course! After all, Koi-kun here has recently developed a special killer technique to go with his powers!”

As soon as he heard about a ‘killer technique’, I felt Arata get spirited.

“What was that, so cool! …...Just joking, now bring it on, c’mon! I have hundreds and hundreds of killer techniques!”

“They’re hundreds only if they’re actually successful.”

“Aoi, be quiet.”

“Ah, okay.”

As we noisily bickered, we went out into open space in the middle of the vast courtyard.

Hajime-san and the others didn’t really say anything since the reason why we are crashing into each other is not to hurt the opponent, but to improve our skills for when we’ll have to protect others or ourselves, and also because it’s relatively a common sight.

How should I put it, Hajime-san’s ears were still lowered and Haru-san was grinning.

I wonder why.

Well, it doesn’t matter.

I may not be the smartest or the most sparkling and radiant.

But even so, the fact that I love this country gives me an unbreakable confidence. Bigger than anyone else’s.

So……

“The one to defend the Black Rabbits Kingdom’s peace will be me!”

La fin

Every man’s life is a fairy-tale written by God’s finger.

#tsukiuta #tsukino production #rabbits kingdom #Black Rabbits Kingdom Novel #english translation #six gravity #mutsuki hajime #kisaragi koi #yayoi haru #uduki arata #satsuki aoi #shiwasu kakeru #at the beginning i was like okay haru being hyped because of work in not unusual #but then haru lost his tempter AND WOW THAT'S NEW??#then haru's sad backstory hNNNNN #in the end we got rabbits roasting each other #to be honest i laughed writing the nemesis line XDDD

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all-the-love-harold · 6 years

Text

The Daily Anna- Chapter 15

Chapter 14

Annagram #8

Masterpost

This is the final chapter (besides the epilouge)! Get your tissues ready because it will make you teary. @lovesmelikebrandnewstarlight has been the most amazing beta throughout this whole series and I honestly can’t thank her enough for everything, because without her, I probably would have given up after chapter 4 or 5, so thanks Hannah for everything xxx

Human life is fragile, it only takes the tiniest disruption to end it. In Anna’s case, her kidney failure became so bad that her own blood turned toxic and stopped her heart. By the time she made it to the hospital there was nothing that could be done to save her, her body failed her and at 3:23am on October 11th exactly six months after she met the love of her life, she died. Like most who pass away so young, she left a trail of broken hearts, but unlike most, her story left millions hanging in the balances. Before she passed, Anna hadn’t posted on her blog for a few days and her followers, who knew she was sick, were starting to worry, and Harry who was hurting more than anyone else was the one trusted with the task of delivering the news to the world, so through tears and gritted teeth he began to write.

Harry Here…..,

I don’t know how to start this, writing like this has never been my strong point, but Anna trusted me with this and it might just be the hardest thing that I’ll ever do.

This morning, at 3:23 am Anna passed away. Her last few hours were peaceful, and filled with all the love that she deserves.

Anna was a shining light in this world, a true angel that was taken too soon. My time with her was short, but I loved her with everything that I had and I will continue to love her until we meet again. Anna changed my life in so many ways, but it was her heart that made me fall for her. She was one of the most compassionate and kind people I have ever met, and I will never forget that.

This blog, and everyone of you, meant the world to Anna, and in a weird way I am honoured to be the one to be writing this post.

I’m lost for words right now, so I will leave you with the words Anna said to me just a few days ago.

“Life is short, don’t waste your time dwelling on the past”

I will spend the rest of my life taking this advice and I will forever hold Anna in my heart, as I hope you all will.

All the love, and my deepest sympathies, H. xx.

****

Anna’s unpacked suitcase sat in the corner of Harry’s childhood bedroom. Untouched for days, because Harry was too hurt to even think about looking at her things. After Anna died, they all packed up their cars and went straight back to cheshire so that the world could stop for a little while and they could wrap their heads around it all.

This morning, as he stood staring at the dull black suit he was supposed to dress himself in to go to her funeral he noticed a cloth bag that he’d never seen before. It was black and covered in red and yellow dots in the shape of the Aboriginal flag, so Harry guessed that she’d bought it before things went downhill in Australia. There was a tag hanging off the zipper that read “To those I love with all my heart.” He opened it to reveal 5 envelopes, the first with his name on it.

“Gemma” he shouted knowing that she was getting ready in the room next door. “Gemma come here”

He stood frozen staring into the bag until Gemma walked softly into the room. “What’s up H?, you’re not dressed yet”

He handed her the bag without saying a word. She looked inside and the same expression appeared on her face. Had Anna really left them letters and were they ready to read them?

“Where did you find this H?”

“Her bag, noticed it this morning, but it must have been there for days”

“Should we read them?” Gemma asked, pulling out the letter addressed to Anne and herself.

Harry turned his letter over in his hand, as of he was about to open it, but stopped himself.

“Maybe we should wait” he said “Until after”

Gemma took the letter from him and nodded “get dressed then, we need to leave soon”

She left the room with the letters in her hand and Harry stood there frozen again, his suit looking less and less appealing the more he thought about what that letter might say. He never really got to say goodbye to her, the last thing he’d heard her say was “I can think of a lot of great things that have happened to you Styles” and he cherished that entire conversation they had, but that letter could say so much more, and he needed to know. He threw the suit on haphazardly, forgetting about the tie, and burst out of his room in search of Gemma and the bag.

“I need to know” he said as soon as he found her standing in the bathroom doing her makeup “I need to know what she wrote”

“Let’s give them to everyone first H, then you can read it” She pressed her lips together after putting the final coat of lipstick on and turned around, picking up the bag that was next to her. Anne was waiting in the living room for them to be ready. She hated funerals. And She hated even more that this was a funeral for someone her son held so dearly.

“There’s letters” Harry said, as he stepped down the stairs.

“What?” Anne said, surprised by his sudden excitement

“Anna left letters for us” he said

Her jaw dropped and her face went pale. It wasn't that she didn’t want to read what Anna had to say, she just didn’t know if today was the day for it, or if she could handle it right before the funeral.

“Harry we need to go,” she said “the letters can wait”

And so they did. The funeral was everything you would imagine the funeral of twenty four year old woman with the whole world at her feet would be, desperately sad and horribly beautiful. It was in the same church that 10 years before Anna’s family laid Timmy to rest, which made the whole thing all the more devastating. The service was beautiful though, there wasn’t a dry eye the house when Gabby read her eulogy where she called Anna “her hero, her rock and her best friend”

Harry, Ronnie and John carried the coffin out and that’s when harry broke down. He didn’t care who was watching, he just said goodbye to the love of his life, and as they laid the coffin in the back of the hearse, Ronnie embraced Harry in a hug. A hug that lasted for what felt like a lifetime, filled with tears and sobs for the loss of their great love.

As for the letters, Harry handed them out at the wake and they all read them when they needed it most. Harry couldn’t wait, he slipped outside while everyone else was preoccupied and sat down under a tree with a glass of whiskey and opened it.

“Harry,

I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I’ve had to leave you so soon, I never wanted that, I wanted everything with you, I’m sorry that we never got that life together.

I want you to know how happy you made me. Those last few months of my life were the happiest I’d ever had and that was all down to you. You showed me the world and everything that’s good and I can’t thank you enough for that.

But promise me this Harry Styles; love again. You showed me what love is, and my life ended with the love of my life by my side, but you have an entire life ahead of you, and I want nothing more than for you to be happy. So love again, let yourself feel the same way you did the first time you saw me and build a life with someone else, someone who will love you just as much as I do.

Life is cruel, and I wish I had more time to spend with you. I love you Styles. Don’t ever forget that.

Anna. xx.”

***

Anne and Gemma were the next to open their letter, they waited until Harry went back to London a few days after the funeral because they knew that while he was home he needed them to be strong and they weren’t sure they could be after reading it. It was addressed to the both of them and Gemma read it outloud as they sat in Anne’s living room, the golden autumn sun beaming through the window.

Anne and Gemma,

I want to thank both of you for making Harry the man that he is and I want to thank you for accepting me into your lives so easily. From the second I met both of you I felt warm and welcome and free to love Harry as I wanted to and I will always be grateful for that.

Take care of him, I know you already do, but his heart is soft and this will break him. I am so sorry to love and leave him so soon, I wish I had more time with him. With all of you really. But know that being a part of your lives for the last six months has made all of this easier. So thank you.

I’ll always be close by.

Anna. xx.

***

It took Debbie and John weeks to read their letter and it John who finally did broke the silence on the topic one morning as they sat eating breakfast.

“We should open that today” he said “It would be nice to know what my Anna had to say”

Debbie was numb, but she agreed, taking the envelope and opening it with her pointer. Tears filled her eyes as she read the first few lines out loud, but eventually her voice trailed off and she handed it to John once she was done but she couldn’t stay to watch him read it, she left the room, desperate sobs escaping her mouth as she walked away.

Mum and Dad.

I’m sorry you have to lose another child. I’m sorry to leave you, but I know you’ll be okay. I know how strong you both are. You kept our family together after Timmy died and I know you’ll do the same after this.

Mum, I have always been proud to be your daughter and I always dreamed of mothering my children the same way you mothered us. I’m sorry that I'll never give you grandchildren, but I hope that what I did in my short life was enough to make you as proud of me as I am of you. I want to thank you for being my biggest supporter, for doing everything you could to allow me to follow my dreams. And if it helps you find closure, before I died, I was happy and loved and that’s all I ever really dreamed of.

Dad, thank you for showing me what a good man looks like. Thank you for setting an example for the kind of love I deserve, and thank you for being the first man that I loved. You were always the person I trusted most when something went wrong, and I couldn’t tell you how many times I wished for one of your warm hugs when I first moved out. Make sure you give Gabby one of those now. She’ll need it more than anything.

There’s so much more I could say to both of you, but I think it’s best if I leave it at this. I love you. Thank you for being the best parents you could, thank you for loving me with everything that you have.

Anna. xx.

***

Gabby read her letter one day when she was feeling particularly lonely in her Uni Halls. The cooler weather had truly set in and she was wrapped in a blanket, staring out the window at the gloomy sky. It was a day when she felt like she had lost everything and Anna’s handwriting on the front of the envelope was a comfort to her, it made her feel a little closer to the sister she loved so dearly.

Gabby,

I don’t have the words to express how sorry I am for dying on you. You’ve been through too much already and my only hope is that you show the same strength and resilience that you did when Timmy left us.

I’ve always admired your strength, never have I ever seen you break, you showed the bravery that I should have shown you as your older sister.

I have one last piece of advice to offer you; love. Let yourself fall because I promise you when you find the right person, it will be the greatest thing you ever do. Don’t wait and watch your life pass you by, live everyday as it comes and don’t stop yourself from feeling. Your strength is one thing I always loved you for, but sometimes I think it is your greatest flaw.

I love you Gabby. We’ll meet again somewhere.

Anna. xx.

***

Ronnie was the last to open his letter. It was a whole year after Anna’s death that he finally gained the strength to know what she had to say to him. He’d clung so desperately to the Anna that he’d created in his head that he didn’t want anything to ruin that. But one October day in 2019, after he’d been on a date with a girl that he actually really liked, he opened the letter and felt as if he was talking to his best friend again.

“Ronnie,

My best friend, my rock, my hero. I can’t thank you enough for everything you ever did for me, you made me the woman I was.

Writing this in past tense seems strange but I think it might be easier for you to read it this way.

I’m sorry that things between us were rocky after Harry and I met, I know you were just protecting yourself. I never meant to hurt you, but meeting him was the best thing that happened to me and I had to go on that adventure. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I couldn’t love you like you loved me.

I know it wouldn’t have been easy to put everything that happened with us behind you once Harry appeared, I don’t know that I would have been able to if I was you. So thank you for being the bigger person, and coming on the trip with us, I am honoured to have been able to spend the last few weeks of my life with my best friend on the trip that we always talked about taking.

I want you to know that you were always my favourite person, even after everything went to shit, you were the one I wanted to tell everything to and the one that I trusted the most.

I wish you every happiness that life will offer you Ronnie, take every chance that you get and the next time I see you, I want to hear all about your adventures. Let yourself love, Ron and life will bring you great things.

Anna. xx.

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depression-in-the-fire-nation · 6 years

Text

Conversations, pt 2

I wrote this a while back as a follow up to this fic (in which Zuko goes to visit Azula post-series, and they have a chat). Originally it was meant to be a whole thing with plot and suchlike, but. It didn’t happen :D Still, maybe someone will find this interesting - this time Zuko has a chat with his mum.

***

A carriage was better-suited to the long journey than a palanquin, and this one was large enough to accommodate three people. Well – two adults and a child.

The girl, Zhu Que, stood up on her tiptoes, chin rested on the gilded windowsill. She kept chattering on about the sights, pointing at birds and animals with her outstretched hand. Ursa indulged her curiosity more often than not, explaining things in a calm, even voice, but Zuko could tell her mind was elsewhere.

“What do you think?” he asked.

Ursa looked at him sharply, amber eyes narrowed. It was an irritation born out of helplessness, he was sure of it; with a deep sigh, Ursa folded her hands together, staring down at her lap.

“I don’t know,” she said in a quiet voice. “Azula has been through a lot. She is still very young—it’s far too early to—”

“I haven’t given up on her,” Zuko said, impetuous in his anger before remembering he was supposed to be smarter. His brow furrowed. “Do you think I should?”

“Have you ever given up on anything?” Ursa smiled. “I don’t think it’s in your nature.”

“No,” Zuko said.

Too much had changed for the both of them in a very short amount of time. Zuko supposed he was luckier than most with how many people he could rely on. Bereft of such support, Azula was struggling to find herself in this strange new world. Perhaps Ursa could change that; perhaps not.

Soldiers who escorted them shouted a few orders. Ursa pulled the child away from the window and into her lap, drawing the curtains shut. They were travelling incognito, more or less.

Zhu Que fidgeted in her grip. Zuko was relatively certain neither he not Azula would behave like this in the presence of the Fire Lord, even at such a young age. Court manners had been drilled into them by Ursa’s stern voice and Ozai’s disapproving frown. But this one – his sister, he supposed – lived her life in anonymity, far away from such pressures.

“Zuko,” Ursa said gently. “Your guilt is misplaced. What happened to Azula, and everything she did – it’s not your responsibility. It’s mine, and your father’s, and her own.”

“I know,” Zuko said.

“I’d like to visit her more often. With your permission.”

It was phrased like a request; it should have been. He was the Fire Lord now.

“You can visit as often as you both like,” he said. “However, there is another matter I wanted to discuss with you.”

“The Colonies?”

“The Colonies.”

His opposition converged around the issue, building off smaller skirmishes. War defined their Nation for the past hundred years, and now the great machine had been brought to an abrupt stop, disrupting all who didn’t know how to live without it. Zuko received missives from disgruntled generals, reports of marauding soldiers, displaced citizens, fallen factories, hunger, unemployment, spreading across the Isles like a disease. But the Colonies became a huge, glaring flaw in his plans for a peaceful solution.

“The Earth Kingdom demands their land back,” Zuko said. “I have received no less than five different messages in the past week.”

“King Kuei is sheltered and inexperienced and can’t keep his own people in line,” Ursa said. “If they presented a unified front, you should worry. As it stands, they are just as likely to fight among themselves as they are to attack the Colonies.”

“Yes. But the Avatar supports their demands.”

Ursa frowned.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, I know you are close friends, but—the world has changed in the past hundred years, Zuko. The Avatar might want it to be as he remembers it, but it’s simply not possible.”

“I know,” Zuko drummed his fingers against the carriage wall, frustration building. The girl was watching him curiously, trying and failing to make sense of their conversation. “They demand reparations. I can’t ignore them forever.”

Cautiously, Ursa leaned forward, brushing the hair from his face. Zuko was aware of how much he had changed since her exile – felt the breech in their relationship, fraught with regret and guilt. But it felt as good as ever to feel his mother’s gentle hands on his face, tracing the skin around his eye.

“Your forefathers have left a terrible scar upon this world, my love,” Ursa said. “You must remember that their crimes are not your own.”

“But it’s up to me to fix them,” Zuko said.

“Some things cannot be fixed,” her expression darkened as she examined the damaged tissue. “We will all have to learn to live with everything that happened.”

She hadn’t asked to see father yet, and Zuko was reluctant to suggest it.

“I already promised to restore the territory to Earth Kingdom,” Zuko said. “I was—foolish. Rash. It’s a bit of a pattern,” he frowned. “My advisors aren’t happy about that. The people there have been led to believe I chose to abandon them.”

“So I heard,” Ursa said, lips pursed in distaste. “’The Usurper will trade our lives for peace’…”

“Who said that?” Zuko demanded.

They were approaching the Capital, the road beneath the wheels becoming wider, smoother. As they passed beneath one of the gates, the interior of the carriage was cast in darkness. Zhu Que managed to wiggle free, peeking out from behind a narrow gap in the heavy curtains, her voice pitched high in excitement.

“One of Azula’s alleged supporters,” Ursa said. “Their voices are growing louder, I’m afraid.”

“Father wouldn’t let his people insult him,” Zuko said before he realized what had just come out of his mouth. He swallowed. “I’m not saying—he was wrong. I know he was wrong. But—it worked. The Fire Nation held together. Now everything is falling apart—”

“It won’t,” Ursa said. “Zuko, Zuko—it won’t happen overnight, but you need to trust yourself. Don’t make rash decision. The people will realize you have the Nation’s best interest at heart, but you need to give them time.”

“Time is what we don’t have, mother,” Zuko said.

Ursa sighed. Zhu Que was tugging at her sleeve, still shy around Zuko; Ursa gave her youngest daughter a wan smile.

“I should go back to the Colonies,” Ursa said. “I was born and raised there. Perhaps I’ll find out something that can be of use to you. Whoever’s in charge, for example.”

There was already a network of spies operating within their borders, as well as outside of them. The problem with spies, as Zuko was coming to learn, was that duplicity was in their nature. He couldn’t be sure how many of them were still loyal to his father. Information they offered had to be considered very carefully, and between the meetings with his Council and foreign ambassadors, he was growing short on time.

“Thank you,” he said. “Anything would help.”

They stopped before she had a chance to reply. Zuko squared his shoulders and left his mother and youngest sister behind.

#my fic #fire lord zuko #ursa #fire nation royal family #dank fic

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sockablock · 6 years

Link

Jester’s Chapter has been heavily revamped, and now sits at 4,793 words (from 1,116-ish, holy goddamn). Please give it a read, the lovely blue girl deserves it!

_________________________

From Where We Came (Ch. 1, Jester)

Jester sits in her room, alone.

Out the western bay window, she can see ships and boats bobbing on the gleaming waves of what Mother calls the Lucidian Ocean. Mother knows the names of everything, even the things that Jester has never heard of before. Sometimes, when Mother comes to visit, she lets Jester climb into her lap and together, they name everything they can see in Jester’s view of Nicodranas. The huge domed building is the temple of the Storm Lord. That winding path is the Silver Road. That little store with the thatched roof and smoking chimney is the Menagerie Coast Pastry Shop. Jester has tried the deserts from there many times; when she is good, Mother will bring her their doughnuts and cakes, as well as gifts from a place called “the beach.” There are many good things to find on the beach, according to Mother, especially during her long walks with the people that like to come and take her away from the house. Jester’s bureau sports a growing assortment of these presents: giant clam shells or spiraling conches or obsidian mussels or bone-white starfish. She loves collecting the things Mother brings, and hopes one day, she can walk along the sand and find them herself.

Until that happens, though, Jester will settle for giggling from up, up in her room, out the window at beautiful carriages and the tiny shapes of sailors and merchants in the distance. She wonders if all people are so tiny like these, and if she and her Mother are the only big people there are. She will have to ask Mother this, when she comes to visit again.

_________________________

“This one is you,” says Jester, “see your dress? I mixed the red and the blue paint for that color. Do you like it?”

Mother lowers the hairbrush and peers over Jester’s horns. “That’s very pretty, dear,” she says. “But what is that shape behind us?”

“Oh, that’s Father!” Jester says cheerfully. “Except I’m not sure what he looks like, so I just drew it sort of blurry, and then you could pretend it’s him.”

Mother sets the brush down. “Why don’t you hang on to this drawing, dear? You could use some art in your bedroom.”

Jester’s brow furrows as she looks around the room. There are pictures tacked up along the walls and on the wardrobe and scattered across her desk. “Are you…sure? I have an awful lot already.”

She tries to lean around to see her mother’s face, but the older woman has already gotten up and is heading toward the door. Before she leaves, she turns to Jester and says, “Keep it, dear. If you hang it up here, I can come into your room to see you and your art at the same time. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“…of course, Mother.”

Later, Jester will think long and hard about the expression that had fixed itself on Mother’s face. It had been a smile, she thinks, but not quite.

_________________________

Tonight, she can hear Mother singing through the wall. She is not sure how to describe it. The song feels like satin sheets, like slowly twirling candlelight, like the sound of a petal falling, and the draw of a warm summer night. It is the most beautiful sound that Jester has ever heard.

Strangely, though, there is something else there too. Almost…almost an afterthought of sadness. Like the lilt of emptiness. Or the knowledge that this time is the last. For Jester, it feels like the door to her room being closed.

_________________________

Sometimes, even when she promises, Mother won’t come to see Jester for a very, very long time.

This happens more as Jester gets older. Mother will stop in every two days, or three, or four or five or six, and when she does come in, it’s only for a little bit. She will ask if Jester needs anything, if Jester would like some desserts, if Jester wants new books or if she needs more paints. And then the door will close, and she will leave, and Jester will sit in her room alone.

_________________________

There’s a little sliding part in the wall between Jester’s room and Mother’s. She is not allowed to open it by herself, for reasons she does not understand, but every day at morning and at night, a meal is pushed through. Jester does not know who brings it to her. She catches glimpse of them sometimes, only their hands, but that is enough to send Jester’s imagination spinning. Their skin is not the same color as Mother’s or as Jester’s, but a sort of odd peach. Their fingers are more wrinkly than Mother’s, and look much more weathered. Jester spends a lot of time wondering about who they belong to.

But Mother forbade her from speaking to the other person, so Jester obeys. She always listens to what Mother says.

Mother also says that she is in charge of keeping the room clean. Mother calls this a “responsibility,” and acts like there’s some kind of big importance to the menial nature of straightening out the blankets and fluffing the pillows and picking up her toys and pushing the wastebasket out every week. That’s the only time Jester gets a glimpse of whatever it is that’s beyond her walls. Mother drills into her head that she must first listen for movement outside, or voices, and if nobody is there, then she is allowed to crack open the door and slide the basket through. Mother usually brings it back when she checks up on Jester the next morning, although sometimes she forgets, or sometimes it takes her a while to visit again. And if Jester is bothered by the little pile of wrinkled papers or soiled napkins or everyday scraps that occasionally accumulate by her desk, she does not show it. She doesn’t want Mother to think that anything is wrong, or Mother might get angry and stop visiting. Jester does not want that to happen.

_________________________

Books with pictures are important to Jester. She does not know what an eagle looks like, since one has never flown past her window before. She isn’t sure what a chandelier should be, since her room is only lit by glowing lanterns at night. She’s never seen a horse as more than a tiny dot weaving through the streets.

And though she does not know this, Jester would not even be able to say what a human would look like. Or a half-elf. Or orc, or halfling, or full elf or dwarf or dog or cat or snake or bird or butterfly or beetle or worm or—

Sometimes Jester will prop open a drawing next to the mirror, and try and imagine herself like one of the creatures from the pages. Would her horns be gone, then? Would her ears point like this? Would her arms be shorter and would her skin be cream-colored?

Of course, it’s not nearly enough. There are so many other questions. What kind of warmth does the sunlight shed? What kind of caress does the wind bring? What sort of kisses does the rain give? What does the grass whisper? What does the sea sing? Jester does not know. The world outside is stories from Mother and scratchings in books and the slow, distant crawl of the tiny world behind window.

She wants to go outside. She wants to go outside. She wants to go outside.

_________________________

Jester gets older. Mother starts making sure she keeps up with her studies, even if they’re about boring things like math and science and history. Their rare times together are filled with Mother listing off her spelling mistakes or tutting at her arithmetic errors or sighing when Jester hits a wrong note.

She misses the fun. There’s only so much entertainment that drawing the same city skyline can bring, even if she changes up the color of the sky and adds sparkling, rainbow-colored dragons soaring overhead. Sometimes she’ll throw all her blankets onto the floor and roll around on them. Sometimes she’ll rearrange the books on her shelves, and then take them all down and then rearrange them again. Sometimes, she tosses her owlbear into the air and catches him again. Sometimes she runs around the room and hides under the bed and presses her face against the glass of the window. But she never, ever makes a sound. That is the worst thing Jester can do, and Mother gets very angry when she does.

When she does, it hurts. And mother yells and rages at her for being too loud, too disruptive, it’s dangerous if anybody hears Jester, then Mother can’t do her work and she can’t have any clients and Jester, you’re being ungrateful and you’re being a pain and I’m going to have to spend more time away from you to make up for this and you’ll have to be alone. If you keep it up, you might have to be alone for a long time. A very, very long time. that what you want, Jester? Do you want me to go away forever?

No.

Then you must be quiet, she will say with steely eyes. Nobody can know you are here.

_________________________

Jester does not like the men and ladies she can hear wandering through their home. They get to listen to Mother sing in person more than Jester does. They get to go to Mother’s fancy parties, and Jester imagines they can wear the fanciest of clothes and have the nicest of jewels and come and go whenever they please. And they love Mother, they love her so much. Often, Jester is worried that Mother loves them too. And that one day she will decide to go away with them, instead of staying here in the house.

Jester hates them.

But Mother insists that they are very nice people, and more than that, they give her all the money that lets Jester have nice things. And Jester—whose entire life is a smiling Mother who brings her beautiful dresses and lacy ribbons and shiny rings and silk sheets and a glittering inkwell and lovely toys and the huge bay window and one, gorgeous room—understands.

And continues to make no sound.

_________________________

Now, every time Mother comes to see her, every time, Jester will ask the same question.

“When can I go outside the room?”

“One day. When you’re older. Don’t worry so much, dear.”

_________________________

When the food tray comes, Jester takes a deep breath and prays that Mother will not hear about this and says, to the pair of hands that slide the panel open, “Hello! What is your name? My name is Jester. How are you?”

There’s a sharp inhale of breath. Then the tray is pushed through and the panel slammed shut.

And, unfortunately, Mother does hear about it.

_________________________

This story has a very interesting plot. It’s about a young girl with beautiful golden hair who’s locked away in a tower by a horrible witch. One day, a man in shining armor comes and she lets her hair down and he climbs his way into the tower. Then together, they escape, and the girl is free and they live happily ever after.

Jester reads it many, many times.

_________________________

She can hear Mother laughing through the walls, thick and sturdy as they are. There is another voice in the bedroom. It says something in a low voice, which makes Mother laugh the harder. Then there is only breathing, sporadic and shallow and loud. There are other sounds. Jester knows them all already. She puts her pillow over her head, mindful of her horns, and tries to go to sleep.

_________________________

Jester is much older. Or she thinks she is, anyways, but Mother still gives her the same nonchalant answer. So finally, she decides that tonight will be the night she leaves her room. It’s a hard decision for Jester, who is terrified of ruining things for her and Mother, but she can hear singing next door, a song about a young girl lost at sea. This means that Mother is singing to only one person, and will be busy all night. It’s the perfect chance.

She squeezes stuffed animals beneath her blanket in a tiefling-shaped bundle. Then she moves to the wardrobe. She knows, from things that Mother says sometimes, that not everybody will be alright with her horns and her tail. They are jealous, she assumes, but she is wise enough to know that jealousy can be a dangerous thing. So she pulls her nicest blue cloak over her head, and tucks her tail into her skirt even though it’s kind of uncomfortable. She slips on some brown boots and ties her little pouch onto her belt.

She snuffs out her candle, and closes the door gently.

_________________________

The first thing she sees is a hallway, with plush carpets that are deep and red. There are strange figures lining the walls, white and grey and Jester figures that these must be statues. She wants to stand and admire them. Maybe whip out a pen and add to the artwork. There are paintings hanging too, gorgeous all and little cards mounted beside them announce what they are of, and who made them. Jester wants to stop and read every one.

But she did not come here to stare at pictures. She has been doing that already for all her life. She sees a drop in the railing, and stairs beyond that. She makes her way over.

The second layer of the house is more confusion. More art, some plants, tables and chairs and cabinets full of plates. Even with her darkvision, it’s hard to see anything clearly in the low light. Besides, that’s still not what she wants. Eventually, moving as silently as possible, she sees a large, large door. The golden dial-lock on it makes a faint click. The handle turns.

Jester slips out into the night.

_________________________

The first hour had been wonderful, better than anything she could ever have dreamed up herself. The glowing strings of lights between the colorful buildings had looked like stars, and there were people—huge, tall people!—milling about and laughing and smiling at every corner. Some were human, some had the pointy ears that meant they were elves, and some of the shorter ones Jester figured were halflings. Or dwarves. She wasn’t sure how to tell the difference, there.

The sun was gone, so she couldn’t scratch that off the list, but the moon shone brightly overhead, which made Jester feel warm on the inside for some reason. The breeze felt incredible. The air could be alive! And the cobbled path under her feet felt more solid than carpet ever would. She skipped down the streets, ignoring those who gave her strange glances, and carried on her merry way.

At some point, she bought a doughnut off a man who looked very confused about the five gold she had paid him. She was told by a nice lady that her dress was pretty. She had stopped and smelled huge red flowers growing by the side of a building, and had watched golden birds flit across the evening sky. A nice stranger in a long cloak like hers pointed her towards “the beach” when she asked, and she skipped along under the faint warm glow of the streetlights, until she got there.

It went wrong, so very wrong, when she a merchant saw her leaning over his cart. She had thought it would be funny if she mixed around the trinkets and shiny baubles that were just lying there, not doing anything! She wasn’t stealing, she was just trying to cheer him up! But the man, hornless and tail-less, had not believed her. She could remember the anger in his eyes, the way he called her “little devil,” and the fear that churned in her chest when he picked up a large wooden stick from behind his stall and started moving closer. For a moment, his tangled black hair was beautiful deep red curls and his clenched teeth were pointed and the stick was a candlestick and Mother was very, very angry with Jester and she didn’t mean to do it, she just tripped in her room and please, Mother, I promise I’ll be good I’m sorry I’ll be quiet—

—and now Jester refuses to let a sound escape her. Her cloak is lying on the bed, ripped. It had gotten caught on something as she was running back to her room, from the scary man and his scary friends and something else pounding in her tired little heart.

She wants to try and comfort herself with a song, but knows that if she wakes anybody up next door, Mother really will be angry with her. She can never know that Jester had been outside her room, let alone outside the house. So Jester buries her face into a stuffed owlbear and shakes in the quiet.

And then a warm hand gently touches her on the shoulder. She almost flinches away, hard, but the gesture is so comforting and so peaceful that she finds herself relaxing slightly.

And then she hears a voice, lilting and calm, echoing in the back of her mind.

What a dick he was, eh?

She looks around, holding the owlbear close to her chest. “…hello?” She whispers as quietly as she dares.

Hello, Jester.

Her voice is barely a breath on the wind. “How do you know my name?”

I know a lot of things. I am a god.

Growing excitement makes her voice quiver. “A god?” she asks. “Like the Storm Lord or the Dawnfather or the Annoying Mistress or the—”

She breaks off when the stranger starts chuckling. Oh, that’s a good one. I’ll remember that one. No, I’m not a god like they are. And before Jester can get disappointed the voice says, I’m a different kind of god. I’m not looking for servants or worshippers. I’m just looking for a friend. And you seem to be someone who might also want a friend.

Jester’s eyes widen. “I do!” she says just a little bit louder than she intended, “I want one really badly. Will you be mine? I have lots of toys and books that we can share, and oh, I can tell you all about today! It was very, very cool, mostly.”

I’d like that, says the voice.

“What should I call you, if we’re going to be friends?”

How about…the Traveler?

Jester beams, though she still isn’t quite sure where to look. “It is very nice to meet you, the Traveler,” she says quietly. “Would you like to hear about the flowers I saw today?”

Why don’t you show me? A soft breeze stirs through the room, and a little, leather-bound sketchbook that had been lying on Jester’s desk briefly flies open. A charcoal stick rolls off a nearby shelf, and bumps into it.

I hear you’re a very good artist, says the Traveler.

“I am!” Jester whispers excitedly.

She rushes over to the desk, dragging a cushioned stool to the space on her right so her new friend can watch her draw. And as her charcoal darts across the blank pages, for the first time in a very, very long time, Jester sits in her room. And she is not alone.

_________________________

“And then he died!” Jester says, waving her hands in the air. “Just like that! And he was the main guy, too!”

The Traveler makes a sound of surprise that isn’t entirely surprised.

“I know!” says Jester, not noticing that last part.

And then what happened?

“Well, that was the end of the book. But you won’t believe who comes back in the second book!”

I think I might have a guess. But why don’t you tell me anyways?

“Oh, I’m going to.”

_________________________

“What do you look like?” Jester asks. “It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me, of course, I was just wondering,” she hastily amends.

Would you really like to see? asks the Traveler. Because, if you really want to, I can show you.

“Oh, yes! Yes, I really would.”

That night, Jester dreams about a tall figure in a verdant cloak. It’s not exactly what she was hoping for, but it’s amazing all the same. She does notice their forest-green eyes; it’s like peering into the woods and seeing the trees blink back at you. Perhaps unsettling to some, but Jester has no fear of the unknown. It’s all unknown to her, anyways.

_________________________

“You might look good in purple,” Jester suggests. “Oh, and with some pretty bows on your sleeves!”

There’s a disembodied chuckle. Maybe, but I think green is just my color. Don’t you?

_________________________

Hey, isn’t it stuffy in here?

Jester thinks for a moment. “It’s always like this,” she says.

Right, but why don’t we go and get some fresh air? I know some great places.

Jester bites her lip tentatively. “Um…I know I’ve been outside before, and it was really cool, but it was also a little bit scary. I’m not sure if I want to go back for the scary parts.”

There’s a brief silence, and Jester is suddenly afraid she’s said something to make the Traveler mad. She’s very afraid that they’re so mad they won’t talk to her anymore.

But then the Traveler says, What if I gave you a way to protect yourself?

Then she would go outside, Jester reasons. Then she wouldn’t have any reason to be afraid.

_________________________

You’re a tiefling, yes?

“Yes.”

Your kind has some pretty incredible innate abilities that you can use for defense and offence. Hasn’t your mother ever told you about them before?

“No. Not ever, actually.”

Well, this is called ‘Thaumaturgy.’ It’s good for distractions, and a good place to start, I think.

_________________________

Jester learns it. She also learns that she’s resistant to some types of damage, that she can use magic for calling down fire and for healing herself and for hurting the people that hurt her first.

_________________________

Do you want to try going outside?

“I don’t know. I mean, I really, really appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but I’m still a little scared. It’s just…it’s just that I know I can do magic, but it’s different than holding a sword or having a dagger even though I don’t know how to use those. It’s just nice to hang onto something, and magic is words buried in my brain.”

Brief silence. Then, I think I know what you’re talking about. Why don’t you go to sleep tonight, and maybe check under your pillow in the morning. But don’t look until then. You need to have faith for this to work. Do you have faith?

“Oh, yes, I do!”

You have faith in me?

“Yes! Absolutely, yes.”

Then in the morning, alright? Not until the morning.

_________________________

Ready to go?

Jester shrugs her cloak on and steels herself. “Ready.”

_________________________

The moonlight still feels calming when it washes over her. The cobbles still feel solid. The breeze still tickles pleasantly, and the doughnut-man actually looks rather excited to see her. And if anybody gives her any odd glances, and if soldiers shoot her undeserved glares, she mentally recites the sounds of her spells and grounds herself with the metal circle hanging around her waist. She likes to rub her thumb around the edges and think about the Traveler. And whenever she calls out, they answer.

Mother notices when Jester stops asking about going outside. She clearly isn’t sure what caused the change, but it’s a relief all the same. She was getting rather tired of Jester’s pestering. And if Jester doesn’t seem as desperate for her attention anymore or as needy as she used to be, Mother doesn’t mind. In fact, she’s delighted. The girl has finally grown out of her childish inclinations.

_________________________

Jester reaches a hand out, but her fingers pass through the other girl.

It’s only an illusion, I’m afraid. But it’ll give you somebody to talk to even if I’m not around.

“I love it! I love it so, so much!”

_________________________

The shopkeeper stares at her in confusion. “Didn’t I just see you come in? You did a loop and then left, didn’t you?”

Jester stifles a giggle. “Nope, not at all.” Then she flicks her wrist, and her illusion walks straight through the door and silently stands next to the man. Jester gives him a friendly wave and turns to leave. Just as she exits she hears a scuffling sound as he turns, and laughs at his sharp shout of surprise and startled, “What the hell?!”

_________________________

“And then they fall in love! Isn’t that so beautiful? Oh, I love this book.”

It’s quite a tale.

“I still think the guard should have been the one to fall in love with him. They had so much chemistry!”

Sometimes love works in odd ways, doesn’t it?

Jester considers this. “Yes,” she agrees. “Like how Mother says she loves me, that’s sort of odd, isn’t it?”

Yes, it is.

“Don’t worry. It doesn’t bother me anymore. I have you, instead!”

_________________________

The Traveler is always with her. Even when they are busy and don’t answer right away, even when they spend a few hours doing other things and even when they suddenly drop a conversation, Jester has faith that they are still there. That they are still listening. And that when they say they will be back, and when they say that Jester can tell them anything she wants, they mean it. They really, really mean it.

_________________________

Oh, are we sneaking out again, tonight?

Jester slings her coat onto her back and pulls her satchel off the bed. “You bet,” she says. “There was a very uppity-looking lady at the tavern last time, and I think she could use some fun.”

I always like the way you think, Jester.

_________________________

Mother still comes around. Once in a while. But now the infrequency of her visits and strange layer of awkward ice between them does not matter at all.

_________________________

“I’ve got a new idea for a prank,” declares Jester.

Oh? And who might this one be featuring?

“You know that guy Mother is seeing now? Lord Robert something something?”

There’s a delighted laugh. Oh, yes. I know him.

“Well, get ready, because that disguise spell you taught me is really going to get some use tomorrow.”

_________________________

Jester packs in a frenzy. There are clothes strewn across the room and her travel sack is already half-full and there’s not enough time to get all her things, all her things

“Hurry, Jester! They’ll be here any minute!” Mother says. “You need to hurry!”

“I know, I know, I am! I am, I really am!”

Her mother sighs deeply. “Yes, yes I know. But please, go faster.”

_________________________

“Why would you do that?”

Jester bites her lip. “He deserved it,” she says.

Her mother does not argue this. “But now you can never come back to Nicodranas.”

“I can find somewhere to go. Maybe I will find Father.”

A barrage of emotions mars her Mother’s face for just a moment. “Maybe. Be safe, Jester. I do not like you leaving now.”

Jester could say something about how all she ever wanted was to leave. About how she is sure that Mother did not want her in the house in the first place. Something about how running away is better than being locked away. But she does not. Instead, she hugs her mother and lets the fingers run through her hair one last time.

“I love you, Jester.”

“I love you too, Mother.”

_________________________

This story has a very interesting plot. It’s about a young girl with navy hair who’s locked away for a very long time. One day, a voice creeps into her mind and she does something to a man in a girdle and she lets her Mother down. Eventually, she escapes, though not at all in the way she’d think.

Jester did not expect this story.

_________________________

She sits atop her new horse. “I lied,” she says to the air. “I don’t know where to go.”

And what about that other part?

Jester does not answer. Instead, “Traveler, where should we go?”

Maybe head down to Port Damali. There’s all sorts there. That might be a good place to start.

She nods. “Alright!” Then she takes a deep breath and pushes a smile to the front. “Port Damali awaits! A new adventure for me and you!”

Indeed.

The sun brings a soft sort of warmth. The wind caresses her hair, and in the distance the sea sings of a new day. The world around her moves, and her horse’s hooves clop against the firm cobbles of a well-traveled cobblestone path.

#critical role #fic #fanfiction #jester #the traveler #campaign 2 #from where we came #huuuuge revamp of the whole deal #text #fanfic

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dotshiiki · 7 years

Text

CoL, chpt 18

XVIII: PERCY

The Jackson-Blofis apartment wasn't spacious to begin with. Now, with nearly twenty people crowded into the living room, it seemed five times more cramped than usual.

None of the friends Percy had invited over for Christmas seemed to mind, though.

His mom and stepdad had pushed all the furniture to the walls so that their guests could sprawl on the floor, passing cookies, chips, and seven-layer bean dip around.

They were all here—Percy's closest friends, the ones who had voluntarily trudged through Tartarus with him, or travelled cross-country to get them out of the pit. Others who hadn't been directly involved, but were part of his weird extended family all the same.

On the couch, Jason and Frank were deep in conversation with Paul, looking for all the world like a triad of high school teachers. Piper, Calypso, and Rachel sat in a cross-legged circle around the two-foot plastic tree they were decorating. Hazel, Tyson, and Ella played patty-cake with Percy's half-sister Joy. Thalia, Reyna, and Annabeth were having a discussion (Percy couldn't hear what the topic was, but he caught his name occasionally). Grover and Nico were locked in a debate on—of all things—reincarnation versus rebirth.

Percy himself was competing with Leo and Will to see who could build the tallest tower out of tortilla chips. He was losing at the moment—his stacks kept falling apart and he'd already started over from scratch several times.

Annabeth detached herself from Thalia and Reyna and came over to observe Percy's pathetic tortilla tower.

'You need a stronger foundation,' she said.

'How would you do it?'

She thought for a moment, then smeared bean dip across his chip base as a coagulant. He stacked a couple of chips card-house-style, and they held firm this time.

'Hey, no fair getting help from the architect of Olympus!' Leo complained. His tower was almost a foot tall. Percy had no idea how he'd managed it.

Will sneezed. Both his and Leo's chips went flying into the branches of the mini Christmas tree.

'Hey!' Leo and Piper cried simultaneously.

'Sorry!'

Piper brushed chips out of her tree. It was practically dripping with tinsel and overloaded with shiny baubles.

Leo raised his eyebrows. 'For a daughter of Aphrodite,' he commented, 'you're not doing a great job dressing that thing up, Pipes.'

'Don't call me that,' Piper snapped. 'And what would you know about accessorising, Mechanic-man?'

'I like it,' Calypso said. 'It's colourful.' She glared at Leo, who raised his hands immediately in surrender.

'It does need more white space,' Rachel mused. 'We could do a better job with a bigger tree.'

'Does it look like a bigger tree would fit in here?' Piper spread her arms and smacked Jason's calves, proving her point.

'Well, if it's a bigger tree you need, why don't you dress Thalia up?' Will joked.

Thalia flipped him a gesture that made Grover shoot her an accusing look and reach over to cover the eyes of the two-year-old in Hazel's lap. Reyna grabbed Thalia's offending hand and laced her fingers in it. Thalia grinned ruefully.

'Sorry, Paul,' she said to Percy's stepfather.

Paul accepted this with a shrug. 'I don't think Joy's old enough to understand what that means. Then again, I'd rather she not copy that particular hand signal in public.'

'And I gave up being a tree for Lent,' Thalia shot at Will. 'Oh wait, it wasn't for Lent—it was to save your sorry ass.'

'THALIA!'

Percy laughed. Gaining back six years and resigning as a Hunter certainly hadn't made much of a dent in Thalia's feisty personality.

Joy wriggled against Grover's hands, which were clamped over her ears this time. 'Tree!' she shouted gleefully, and stomped right through the collapsed chip towers and bean dip to Piper, Rachel, and Calypso's trussed up masterpiece.

Annabeth snatched up the plate of blue chocolate chip cookies—only one was left—before Joy could trample it, too. Percy beat Leo to the last cookie and stuck his tongue out at his friend before popping it into his mouth.

'Real generous host you are,' Leo grumbled.

'Hey, all's fair in love and blue cookies!' Percy grinned. 'I'll get more,' he promised, taking the plate from Annabeth. He kissed her on the cheek and got up, brushing crumbs out of his lap.

His mom was bent over the oven when he entered the kitchen.

'You should come join us,' Percy said.

'I will,' said his mom. 'Once this last batch is done.' She eyed the empty plate he set on the kitchen counter. 'Looks like they're a hit.'

'Your cooking's famous,' Percy assured her. 'Thanks for letting us have the party here.'

'You know your friends are always welcome,' said his mom. 'And Paul and I love having you home. Especially after you've been on a quest.' She shook her head. 'Every year I think maybe this will be the year that you stop scaring me with your adventures, but it never ends, does it?'

Percy shrugged. 'We can always hope. I'm sorry I made you worry again, Mom.'

His mom made a little pffft noise and waved her hand dismissively. 'It wasn't your fault. And you're here now. You've always come back.' She reached up to muss his hair. 'Every time, you come back.'

He shifted guiltily, remembering the disastrous Iris-message a few weeks back, when he hadn't a clue who his family was. He was so sick of the way stuff kept coming up—it wasn't just his life it disrupted. There were his friends and family, too, who always got caught in the crossfire of his unpredictable life. He'd hurt so many people over the years, intentionally or not.

His mind flitted to Jessica. He hadn't really thought of her since their catastrophic date, which now felt like something from another life. He wondered how she was getting on with her goal of living a life uncomplicated by the gods. Maybe he should have invited her here as a sort of apology. Then again, given her distaste for her mythological heritage, hanging out with a group of first-generation demigods—not to mention a satyr, a Cyclops, and a harpy—probably wasn't her idea of fun.

'Do you think your life would have been better without all this mythological shit—er, I mean—stuff? If you didn't know it existed?'

'That's a tough question, honey. Do I ever wish things had been simpler? Yes, of course. And I won't deny that the mythological shit,' she winked at him, 'is complicated. But it's easy to blame the gods when really, that's just life. Life's complicated. You don't have to be a demigod for things to keep happening to you.'

He remembered then that her life had been pretty crappy even before she'd ended up a pregnant single mom with a child who had a big target painted on him. Still, could her life have been better if she hadn't met Poseidon, if her path had taken her straight to Paul and Joy without the detours around a delinquent son and an abusive husband?

'I wouldn't give any of it up,' his mom said firmly. 'No matter how hard or painful it was, meeting your dad gave me one of the best things in my life—you. And I wouldn't trade you for anything. Nothing worth having is easy, Percy.'

Percy knew she was right. If there was one thing he knew from all the battles he'd fought, it was that they made him appreciate what he had so much more. The friends he'd made—so loyal that they'd voluntarily descended into a land beyond hell just for him. Those friendships had been forged in quests and tempered by trials into a bond as powerful as the celestial bronze of Riptide. Their last trudge through Tartarus had only strengthened it further.

And he thought of Annabeth. He could hear her laugh rising above the chatter in the next room. He'd known forever that he wanted to build something permanent with her. Now, more than ever, he wanted to seal the deal. His eyes landed on the thin, gold band on his mom's ring finger. If his memories ever got stolen again, he wanted official proof that could remind him of what Annabeth meant to him.

His mom seemed to read his mind. 'I think if you don't pop the question, she might very well ask you.'

'We haven't really talked about it. I mean, we're only sophomores, and I don't even know if I'll make it to graduation, with all the stuff that keeps happening—'

'But you'll get there,' his mom promised. 'You know, when you were a kid, I used to tell you that you could do anything. And you survived everything your world threw at you, you passed high school, and you found a whole family sitting out there.' She waved her hand towards the living room. 'Look at how far you've come, Percy.'

Again, she was right. The future stretched out in his imagination: college graduation, Annabeth in a wedding dress, babies with black hair and grey eyes.

Percy wasn't Rachel; his visions didn't predict anything. But he could work towards making them come true.

The oven timer went off with a ding! His mom pulled out the cookie tray and refilled the empty plate.

'Nothing's impossible, Percy,' she said.

Percy looked down at the full plate. It was his mom's enduring, edible reminder that little miracles could and did happen.

'Cookies can be blue,' he said with a grin.

'Exactly.'

And together, bearing the full plate of blue cookies, Percy and his mom made their way back into the circle of love and family in the next room.

THE END

And that’s a wrap! The end of this massive project that got way out of hand. I actually wrote this epilogue twice. The first version involved Percy and Sally and a long angsty conversation, but it refused to come together and I realised ... well, I needed everyone together for the final curtain call. So here they are. Thank you for sticking with this story. I hope you've enjoyed the ride. I certainly have. And with that, I have to say one more enormous thank you to my betas, @supernaturally-percyjackson and @preciouschildrenofolympus or their help in whipping this monster of a fic into shape. They were an amazing team to have and I am so grateful for all the feedback they've given to help make this story better!

Also, if you haven't yet, go check out @preciouschildrenofolympus‘s amazing art for the story here and here!

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calumwriting-blog · 7 years

Text

flowers // calum au

“calum, tell me where we’re going. you’re actually stressing me out.” you had a blind fold over your eyes as ‘seeing would be cheating’, according to calum. it was killing you to not rip the blind fold off, but you knew he’d be upset if you did. so, you stayed sightless.

“that would ruin the surprise, birthday girl. we’re only another 10 or so minutes away.” you let out a deep sigh in response to his answer. you knew very well he was taking pleasure from this. surprises had never been your thing, and he was damn well aware of this.

“i love how you think that would soothe my impatience.” you heard calum chuckle at this and, instead of responding, put on the radio. sighing, which is something you’d done a lot through out the day, you laid your head back against the seat.

when it came to your birthday, calum had always gone all out for the past 4 years you’d been together. you would always feel bad, as you were never as good as him when it came to his birthdays, but he swore even if you got him water he’d be the happiest person alive. you’d never felt such love from another human in a way that calum loved you, and you weren’t quite sure if you’d ever come to terms with how someone could love you so much.

you were scared of love. you’d always been. but calum changed your view on love completely. you’d had good relationships before, but had always backed out once you really started to feel love. you didn’t want to deal with the pain of when they stopped loving you.

you’d done this to calum as well. multiple times. but, every time, he would pull you back to him and reassure you he would never stop loving you. you were his and he was yours. so many disagreements had been started with you being scared of him leaving you, but each ended with his arms around you and you, normally, crying into his shoulder or whatever placed seemed best at that point.

while you still sometimes question why he loves you, you aren’t scared of him leaving you, as much, anymore. he’s given you the love you’ve avoided your whole life and made you realize love isn’t something to be scared of or runaway from.

the radio being shut off disrupted your thoughts. “we’re here. so, you’ll have the blind fold for another few moments, then i promise you can take it off. just take my hand and i won’t let you trip on anything.” calum said as you heard the car door on his side open, then shut. moments later, you heard your car door open and you felt calum grab your hand closest to the door, gently pulling on it. carefully, you made it out of the car, and managed to shut your door.

calum then pulled a little harder on your hand, which caused you to walk at a fast pace to keep from tripping. you’d thought he been taking you to a beach at first, but there was no ocean smell. you couldn’t quite figure out what exactly it smelled like, but it did smell beautiful.

“calum, wh-” calum interrupted you before you could quite finish your sentence.

“relax. you can take it off now.” now, a part of you didn’t want to take it off. as you’d said before, you weren’t a fan of surprises, but the moment before you found out what was going to happen was always the moment you wanted to pause. to relinquish in the slight excitement of what was in front of you and what calum could be so intent on not letting you even see where you were going.

yet, you finally pulled the blind fold off, your eyes remaining shut for a moment before opening. immediately, you were breathless at the view in front of you.

sunflowers went on for what seemed like miles in every way. you had never seen a sight as beautiful as this one, and that says a lot.

“so? was i worth the w-” it was your turn to cut calum off, turning towards him and pressing your lips to his, he was taken back for a moment, but it didn’t long for him to return the kiss. you pulled away, breathless from both the view and the kiss.

“i love you. i love you so much. this… this is insane. i love you. i love you.” you repeated the statement, almost coming to realization with how much calum actually meant to you.

“i love you too, y/n. i’m gonna take a guess and, correct me if i’m wrong, but you like the surprise?” he smiled down at you, and you quickly nodded. your vocabulary had instantaneously disappeared, and all you could do was relinquish in the view and calum’s hand in yours.

“can we go in? like, into the flowers?” you looked up at calum and slightly felt like a little kid.

“yeah, of course.” the smile, which hadn’t left your face since taking off the blindfold, widened ever more and you quickly pulled him towards the never ending rows of sunflowers. it was really like a dream.

you’d spoken to calum about wanting to go a flower field before, but never actually thought it would happen. after all, you didn’t even expect there was any close to you. calum, as you stated before, was clearly the king of gift giving and surprises. the love you felt for him now was more than you could ever imagine yourself feeling for someone to the point you could feel it in your chest and your veins.

after wandering through the flowers for what seemed like ages, you found a spot among them where you could sit, pulling calum down with you. “this is surreal. calum, i can’t thank you enough.” you watched as a smile grew on his face, and a slight reddish tint overcame his cheeks.

“i’m glad you like this. i wish we could spend the rest of our life here. you. me. the flowers. not a worry in the world.” you felt yourself blush now at the mention of you and him living together forever. calum laid down with his head close to your knees, his hands placing them self behind his head.

“well, except when winter came around, then we’d be fucked.” you chuckled, receiving a slight chuckle from him as well.

“no we could build a little cabin in the middle of the flowers and hide you there when it got cold.” calum stated, looking up at your from his spot in the ground.

“oh yeah like you’re someone who would build a cabin.” calum shook his head at you, turning his gaze up to the sky peeking through the flowers. you decided to lay down beside him, letting your gaze travel to the same place his was.

“stop shooting down my dreams. i’d get someone to build it for us.” you always got chills when he used the word ‘us’. it meant you and him. together. and god did you love that.

“well, i’ll go with that. i don’t think i’d like living here on my own, after all. i’d be too scared of getting stung and having no one to take care of me.” you grinned, turning your head to look at him. he smiled the smile you’d grown to love through out the years, the crinkles next to his eyes showing themselves.

if you were to tell younger you you’d be in love with someone who treated you like an absolute princess, you would think they were trying to pull you leg.

but you are in love. you are happy. you do see yourself living the rest of your life with calum by your side.

you know you’re capable of love.

and you know you’re capable of being loved.

#calum imagine #calum hood imagine #calum blurb #calum hood blurb #calum hood #5sos

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