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live-the-fangirl-life · 3 years

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Rainy Day Rescuer

Feyre Archeron x Rhysand - OneShot

Feyre gets locked out in the rain and fears she'll have to tough out the storm. That is, until a kind stranger opens his window.

Masterlist | Read on Ao3

Warnings: Language

2130 words

*******

Feyre’s favorite thing about her apartment building wasn't the location or the free parking—although she did love that—it was the rooftop.

She’d lived in the building almost a month before realizing she could access the roof. The padlock on the door was apparently for appearances only, and it easily came off when she pulled on it. She figured out how to rest it back on the door so that when she was out on the roof the door still looked locked to anyone who didn't know better.

So far, she hadn't run into any of her neighbors trying to share the spot, but she knew someone else used it. Normally, she came up here to paint or to think and look at the stars. The view from the roof was lovely; she could see the city center and all the lit-up buildings, and the Sidra river that flowed through it.

The first time she set up her easel, one of her paintbrushes rolled away, and when she tracked it down behind an old broken crate she found a book had been carefully tucked away behind it.

Feyre couldn't help it when she picked up the book to get a better look at it. She glanced around quickly before chiding herself, knowing that no one else was out there with her. She recognized it as some sort of mythology retelling. Feyre flipped through it, trying to find some name or any indication of who it belonged to. All she found was an old receipt from a clothing store being used as a bookmark.

Spotting her runaway paintbrush, she grabbed it and put the book back where she found it.

That wasn't the last time she saw that book, and it certainly wasn't the last time she lost one of her paintbrushes.

In the next few weeks, every time Feyre went out to the roof she looked for the book.

It was always in that same place, hidden away so it wouldn't be noticed. But every time she opened the book the bookmark was moved a little further along.

She also started noticing annotations written in the margins. Feyre tried to imagine what this person must be like. It was odd, but kind of fascinating to follow along with this person’s progress.

She tried to focus on the fascinating part, and not the part that made her feel a bit like a creep for peeping into this person’s thoughts.

Except, when she made her routine book check that night, it was gone.

Feyre tried not to feel too disappointed. Why was she so invested in another person’s book? But it had become a constant that she looked forward to, and now it was gone. She could only hope they would start another one.

She laid out a thin blanket and sat down to look at the stars.

She must have dozed off at some point because she was woken up by raindrops hitting her face. It wasn't heavy yet, but she could tell it was going to start soon.

Ignoring the drizzle, she glanced at her phone. Feyre groaned and sat up, rubbing her face.

“Ugh, okay Fey, let’s call it a night.” She mumbled to herself, sleepy and moving slowly. She packed the blanket in her large tote bag and went to go back inside. Pulling on the door, she stumbled back a step. She was too tired, her grip was already slipping.

Feyre adjusted the bag on her shoulder and pulled the door again.

It didn't move.

She gripped the handle with both hands and pulled, hard.

Nothing happened.

“No, no, no, no, no…”

Feyre was wide awake now. This couldn't be happening. Shit.

She threw her bag down and used all her strength to open the door she ultimately knew wouldn't budge.

Breathing heavily from the exertion, she stepped back from the door.

“Shit.”

The rain was beginning to pick up.

“Really?!”

Lunging for her bag, Feyre dug around until she felt her phone. Gripping it, she unlocked it and was about to find someone to call for help...but she had no service.

How could she not have any service? Oh, gods, she was going to be stuck out on the roof, in the rain, until someone decided to come out there. It could be who-knows-how-long until that happened.

Spinning around, Feyre caught sight of her salvation.

“The fire escape!” Beaming, she grabbed her bag and ran over to it. “You beautiful, fantastic fire escape, help me out.”

Feyre managed to climb down the four stories of stairs and ladders without slipping on the slick metal. Gods, wouldn't that be a sight? She’d slip and come tumbling down the rest of the way, providing free entertainment to whoever walked past the building’s back alley.

When she finally made it to the lowest landing she tried to lower the final ladder that would bring her to the ground.

Only, it wouldn't move.

“Come on,” she muttered, still trying to force it down, “Don’t do this to me. I’m so close!” Feyre looked down to see the drop. Cringing, she admitted it was farther than she trusted herself to jump without breaking something—most likely her.

Thunder boomed and lightning flashed across the sky. Feyre pressed herself against the building as the rain finally poured down.

“Seriously?!” She shouted up into the apparent waterfall above her head.

A knock from behind her startled her enough that she jumped around and let out a loud shriek.

“Um, are you okay?”

A voice came from a window set into the wall that she hadn't noticed before with a man’s face pressed up against it. Through the rain streaming down the glass, she couldn't tell if he looked more concerned or wary at her appearance.

It took her a second to respond.

“No.” She tried to shake the wet hair out of her face. “I’m not.”

“Are you trying to go up or down?”

Ah. He was probably worried she was just some random person who decided to hop up onto his balcony landing.

“Down.” She said, trying not to think of how bizarre it must be for him to look out and see a woman stuck outside his window, sopping wet.

This really wasn't how she wanted to make first impressions with her neighbors.

“I got locked out on the roof and tried to get down the fire escape, but,” she gestured to herself and the now downpouring rain that was making this conversation difficult, “it didn't really work.”

She hoped he would offer before she had to ask the insane request.

Thankfully he did.

His eyebrows shot up and he seemed to finally notice how bad the rain was. Hastily opening the window, he gestured for her to come in.

“Come in, it looks awful out there.”

Before she could think better of accepting the stranger's invitation to literally climb into their apartment, she picked up her soaking bag from the grate at her feet and crawled over the windowsill, quickly closing the window behind her to block the storm.

Maneuvering to a standing position, Feyre took a moment to take a breath and thank whoever was listening for her unexpected savior.

She turned to face him. He was tall, she would have to crane her neck up if stood much closer. And he had vibrant violet eyes that the artist in her wanted to study.

“Hang on a second.” He left her standing in his living room. Feyre looked around at the sofa and tv that took up most of the space, the bookshelf propped against one wall, and pictures of friends on the wall.

The man came back in with a towel in hand.

“Here, try this.” He handed it to her politely.

“Thanks.” She quickly wrapped it around herself, trying to dry off and stop shivering.

“No problem.” He looked like he was going to ask her something when something on the bookshelf caught her eye.

“It was your book?” She gasped, pulling the familiar volume from the shelf. Feyre whirled around to face the dark-haired man who was looking at her warily. “You’re the one who’s been using the roof!”

He stepped closer to her and gently took the book from her hands, casually flipping through it. Flicking his eyes up at her, he asked, “How did you know about my book?”

Feyre could feel her cheeks heating and she could've sworn a smirk made its way across his face.

“I, uh, found it one day.”

“You found it?” he asked skeptically. “I hid it behind some old box, how did you find it?”

At least he just looked curious, and mildly amused, and not disturbed at her snooping. Yeah, maybe it was tucked away, but anyone who tried for more than a minute could’ve found it, so she didn't feel as bad.

Drawing as much pride as she could muster when she was dripping water onto this man’s carpet, she huffed, “It was a crate, not a box.” He grinned and she went on, “and for your information, I dropped a paintbrush and it rolled over there. I found the book when I was chasing my brush. I don't actively seek out other people’s things to snoop.”

His grin widened as she explained and by the end, he was chuckling.

“And here I thought you just really wanted to get to know my reading tastes.”

She scoffed, but hid a grin, “Yeah, sure. I don't even know you.”

As she said it, she realized it was true.

Besides the fact that he lived in her building and was kind enough to let her in from the rain, she had no idea who this man was.

It seemed he remembered the same thing as he gave her a charming smile and held out his hand.

“You can call me Rhys.”

“Rhys?” She raised a brow. She’d never met anyone named Rhys before.

“My full name is Rhysand, but,” he paused to wink at her, “the people I like call me Rhys.”

Feyre rolled her eyes at his not-so-subtle flirting but met his hand with her own.

“Feyre. Just Feyre.” She held his gaze for a few more minutes before they both dropped their hands.

“Well, Just Feyre, I think I have something for you.”

Before she could respond, he vanished into the other room. He had something for her? What? Was this some other lame attempt at flirting?

She’d let him flirt if he wanted to, maybe she was a little interested to see what he’d try.

But he came back out to stand in front of her with one hand behind his back.

“Yes?” She tried to peek around him, but he angled his body away so she couldn't see what he was holding.

Leaning in close to her, Rhys said, “I believe that is yours.” With a flourish, he brought his hand in front of him.

“My paintbrush!” Feyre couldn't believe it. She looked back and forth between the brush and the man holding it, “I’ve been looking for this one. I lost it weeks ago! How do you have it?”

Rhys smiled broadly at her as she took it from his outstretched hand.

“I found it near the back corner one night, it must have just rolled away from you. It looked like it could blend right into the wall.”

Ceasing her inspection of the brush, shocked that she had found it—that Rhys had had it—she looked at him and beamed.

He blinked, almost dazedly, as he watched her smile.

“Thank you!”

Without thinking, she reached up and wrapped her arms around him in a quick hug. Rhys tensed, and at that moment Feyre remembered that she was still soaking wet from the rain. Wincing, she hastily pulled away before he had a chance to return her hug.

“Sorry. I got excited.” She glanced down to see the small puddle on the floor beneath her and cringed. “I should probably go.”

“Hm? Oh.” Rhys cleared his throat and nodded, “Right. You probably want to change into something dry.”

“Yeah.” They both stood there awkwardly staring at each other, not sure what to say next.

“Okay,” Feyre picked up her bag and took a step towards the door. “I’m just gonna...” She trailed off as she and Rhys pivoted around each other so that she was closer to the door.

He walked with her the last few steps, pausing when she opened the door and turned back to him.

“Thank you, Rhys. For the paintbrush, and for not making me stand outside like a drowned cat all night.”

His laugh made Feyre crack a smile.

“Anytime Feyre, darling.”

She smiled.

“Goodnight Rhys.”

He mirrored her smile.

“Goodnight Feyre.”

Maybe getting locked out wasn’t so bad, after all.

***

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#feyre archeron #rhysand #rhys #rhys x feyre #feyre x rhysand #feysand #feysand fic #feysand au #fanfic #fanfiction #au #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #oneshot #feyre

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darklove9314-blog · 3 years

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Family : A Nessian Fanfic

Day 19 of Nessian month: Prompt: Nessian bonding with the IC.

Nesta gazed upon Cassian, Her hand firmly in his as Cassian knocked on the front doors of the river house, Feyre opened the door, a smile on her face, a hand pressed firmly to her swollen stomach before a five year old Nyx grinned at the sight of his aunt and uncle flinging himself in his aunt’s arms.

“Aunt Nes! You came!” Nyx exclaimed. A happy chuckle escaping her lips.

“Of course I came. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.“ Nesta smiled as Cassian cocked his head to the side staring at Nyx.

“What? No love for your favorite uncle?” He stated as Nyx’s eyes widened with excitement

“Is Uncle Az with you?” He questioned causing Nesta to hold in her laugh. Only five years old and he already mastered the art of a good come back. Even Feyre was reining in her smile.

“Say hi to your other uncle, sweetie.“ Feyre encouraged him as he wiggled himself out of Nesta’s arms and hugged Cassian.

“Hi Uncle Cass.“ He greeted. Nesta had no real idea why Nyx had grown more of an attachment to her than Cassian, but she guessed she would never really know that answer. Kids were always a mystery.

“Come inside, we’re just getting to cutting the cake.“ Feyre explained as Nesta and Cassian entered Nyx holding onto Feyre‘s hand.

Cassian‘s hand slid into hers before they entered the sitting area. Several of Nyx’s friends gathered around a table as he chatted away. He really was a social one.

Cassian pulled out a chair for Nesta, she thanked him as they took a spot beside Mor who greeted Casan with a hug.

“Long time, no see, stranger.” Mor greeted. Her smile dazzling across the whole room.

“That’s what happens when you go to the court of Nightmares for a whole six months.“

Mor shrugged taking a sip of her wine.

“It’s not easy to undo the damage the years have caused there, but perhaps in a few more years The Court of Nightmares will be a thing of the past and it can start anew.”

A fresh start. Something that a lot of the Night Court had needed. progress was slow, but nothing ever happened over night.

Nesta‘s eyes drew to Cassian, the curve of his lips at his friends accomplishment. The determination she had showed to take over the Court of Nightmares after her fathers passing and do what she thought she should have always done. Made more dreamers in the city of Nightmares. Nesta had even offered her assistance if Mor ever became overwhelmed. Which she had appreciated.

“How are things in Illyria?” Mor asked, her eyebrows raised in question at Cassian, who’s own smiled beamed, his arm going around Nesta. Pride shone in them with their accomplishments.

“We finally managed to convince Devlon to combine a two small units made up of both Illyrian and Valkeryie warriors. One of them are the younger generations who wish to become apart of the ranks and the others are the ones who have already went through the rite.”

“That’s amazing, I knew you two could do it.” Mor smiled looking over to Nesta.

“I couldn’t have done it without the steel will determination of my mate,“ Cassian explained pressing a kiss to the side of her temple.

“Don’t forget Emerie and Gwyn.” Nesta added.

“How could I ever?” Cassian smiled pressing a kiss to her hair.

“I thought the mating bond was supposed to die down some after a couple of years?” Amren asked sliding down in a chair, Varian by her side.

Cassian smirked at her. “You know that’s not how that works.“

“I dread the day you procreate boy. Hopefully the babe has its mother’s smarts.“

“I hope so too.“ Cassian told her making Nesta feel warm in her chest.

She had been thinking a lot about having children lately. Been having dreams of Cassian filling her with life. thinking of the one they would create together. Been gazing at the tea she had been using as her birth control for the past five years and been wanting to have a conversation about what his thoughts were if she stopped taking it, if they had started trying.

but they both had been so busy lately getting everything together that it had been a while since the two of them had time to be intimate, Had time to talk about the future that she wanted to have with him. Would they be able to have a baby? She knew getting pregnant as a fae could be difficult, but she was willing to try. She just needed a moment with him where they both weren’t exhausted.

Amren smirked seeming to catch how deep Nesta’s thoughts ran.

“I guess we’ll see when the time is right.“ She simply said leaning into Varian. Her wedding ring flashing in the light.

Before Cassian could say more, the door opened Azriel stepping through it as Nyx hugged him. Azriel placing Nyx on his back and carrying him into the dining room.

“Be careful there, Uncle Az, you may throw your back out.“ Cassian teased earning him an eye roll from Azriel.

“I’m in better shape than you.“ Azriel retorted. “I bet you couldn’t even lift him to your shoulders.”

“Is that so?” Cassian challeneed as Nesta heard a far off voice say.

“I hate to break up your bet with my son, but it’s time for presents.“ Rhys told them taking Nyx for Azriel’s shoulder. A wide grin on the boys face.

“Presents!” Nyx shouted happily running towards them as the other children followed. Feyre smiled rubbing at her abdomen absentmindedly.

“Do you think he’ll have any trouble not being an only child when his sister arrives?” Feyre asked as Rhys beamed.

“Not at all. though there definitely will be an adjustment period.“ Rhys assured her as Nesta looked back to Cassian. His gaze on Rhys and Feyre as Rhysand pressed a kiss to her sister’s cheek.

Nesta had always knew that Cassian had longed for a family of his own. It wasn’t that his close circle of friends wasn’t enough for him or even her, but she knew Cassian had always wanted children. She had been hesitant afraid if she would be a good mother or not.

He had assured her there was no rush for children. That he would wait hundreds of years if he had to so she could be ready for them. Nesta just had to make sure she was doing this as much for herself as she was for Cassian. She would not bring a child into this world unless both her and Cassisn were ready for one.

Nesta joined the others sitting down next to Feyre as Cassian joined Rhys and Azriel having a conversation that Nesta had no clue what it was about.

Elain was beside Mor and Amren, her laughter flooding over to them as she sent both her sisters a slight wave. Nesta waved back before turning back to Feyre, not sure how to start this particular conversation as they watched Nyx open his presents. His eyes growing wide at the mini paint set his mother had gotten him.

“Thanks mom!” Nyx said flinging his arms around Feyre��s neck as she pulled her son closer.

“You’re welcome baby.” Feyre said hugging him as Nesta took in the sight. She knew she wanted that with her own child. But she was still afraid that she would not be any good at motherhood.

Nesta watched as Nyx opened his other gifts, watching as he opened the toy that Nesta and Cassian had gotten for him. Thanking both of them with a hug.

Nesta‘s smile bloomed as she beheld the hug between Nyx and Cassian, Could almost see Cassian with their own son or daughter, How good of a father he would be. She wondered when Cassian saw her with Nyx if he thought the same thing.

“Is something on your mind?” Feyre asked when they both were alone in the kitchen. they were cleaning up while the others were in the living room showing Nyx how to use his toy and helping him set them up. Cassian had always been great at building things. He was putting the others to shame. A smile tugged at Nesta’s lips.

“When did you know?” She asked as Feyre stopped on the dish she was working on.

“Know about what?” She replied scrubbing at a really stubborn stain as Nesta handed her a better sponge.

“Thank you.“ She said as Nesta dried the dishes Feyre handed to her.

”How did you know you were ready to have a baby?” She asked. Feyre stopping mid scrub.

“Are you and Cassian-?” She started but Nesta interrupted her.

“No. At least not yet. I-I haven’t brought up the conversation with him yet.“ Shd told Feyre. Feyre nodded in understanding.

“I can understand that. It’s not a decision to take lightly. There’s a lot of factors to take into account.”

“Like how I feel like I would be a terrible mother?”

Feyre looked at Nesta with the same eyes they both had inherited from their mother.

”What makes you believe you’ll be a terrible mother?” Feyre asked. going back to the dishes.

“Because I couldn’t even take care of us when it mattered most.” She confided to Feyre.

“It wasn’t your job to take care of us. It was our fathers. “

“It wasn’t your job to take care of us either. but you still did it anyway.“

“It still doesnt mean it would have been right no matter which of us took care of the other. perhaps the real mistake was that we didnt take care of each other, but we were young and we’ll learn from those mistakes, God knows I still make them when it comes to my own child.”

“Please. You’re the definition of the perfect mother.” Nesta told her drying the dishes Feyre had worked on.

“I wouldn‘t say that. I still have the deal Rhys and I made which in retrospect wasn’t the brightest idea if you want to have kids.”

“You made a mistake, it happens to all of us.“

“I will admit we didn’t really think it through. the deal I mean. But no one ever said every decision was a rational one, but you’re deflectin. We were talking about you wanting kids.”

“I know it’s been years but I still have those intrusive thoughts that I’ll end up just like our mother.“ Nesta told her.

“We can’t live our life in fear Nesta. and remember you also have a support system in your corner. If you want to have kids than that’s your choice, well yours and Cassian’s. Just make sure that you’re ready to commit to it. To put that child before anything else, because when your baby comes. It’ll be your whole world. only you can determine what mother you’ll be, The past be damned.“

“Thanks Feyre.“

“Don’t mention it.” Feyre smiled as Cassian turned towards them getting up from his spot and heading towards the kitchen until he stopped where they were at.

“I’ve come to relieve you, my high lady.“ Cassian said as Feyre chuckled.

“Thank God you have spared me of the tedious task that is dish washing.” Feyre teased giving him a pat on the shoulder.

“I’ll see you two when you’re finished,“ Feyre told them heading to sit down beside Rhys and Nyx.

“Were you two having fun in here?” Cassian teased grabbing a dish and washing it.

“Aren’t we always?” Nesta smirked grabbing the dish from him and drying it.

“What were you two talking about?” Cassian asked. “It seemed like a pretty intense conversation.“

“It was a sister thing and…there’s something I want to discuss with you when we get home.“ She told him.

“Nothing bad I hope.“

“No. It’s just a conversation that I’ve been wanting to have with you for a while now.“ She confided in him, He nodded, relief filling his features as they worked on the dishes. talking about the party. When things were winding down Feyre pulled Nesta into a hug as Nesta also hugged Nyx,

“Goodbye Aunt Nes.”

“Goodbye buddy, I’ll see you next week when you come spend the night,“

Nyx‘s eyes lit up at the sound of that, the house adored Nyx as it had any other person, Maybe even favored him slightly. Though she didn’t blame the house. it had been a while since a child had been in it.She wondered how the house would feel to have one there permanently.

When Cassian and Nesta went home, She had found her answer in a stack of novels on the house library’s table. Books on motherhood, what to expect when you’re expecting. Nesta felt a warmth in her chest as the house also presented her the herbs for her tea. She hadn’t taken her dosage today.

Footsteps sounded in the door of the library as the books vanished from sight but the tea remained. She had made up her mind. Had known her answer as Cassian approached her.

“What was it you wanted to talk about?” He asked taking a seat beside her noting the tea.

Nesta took a deep breath. “Did you mean it? When you said you wanted kids?”

Casian nodded. “It’s something Ive always wanted. What brought this up?” He asked as Nesta took another breath.

“I was thinking-“ Nesta started. “About the future you’ve talked about for us. How you said you wanted kids?”

“Did you change your mind? Did you not want kids? Is that why you said you wanted to talk?” Cassian asked.

”No, I-I wanted to talk to you because I- I want to try for a baby. I-I want to make a baby with you.”

Cassian eyes snapped to hers, searching her face before he stood up, his calloused and warm hand going to her face.

“You want a baby?” Cassian asked. Nesta nodded. And she did. Gods did she want a baby with her mate. the love of her life.

“Yes.” She whispered to him as he smiled. The smile as bright as the dawn as he lifted trash can up eyes flickering to get tea.

Nesta’s smile curved upwards before she took the tea tossing it in the trash before Cassian‘s lips camd crashing down to hers.

He hoisted her on the desk, her back leaning against it as Cassian pulled away smiling down at her in the most breathtaking gaze she had ever saw and whispered.

“Then by all means mate,let’s get stared.“

#nessian #nestaarcheron #cassian #nesta #nessianmonth

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extremelyblackandwhite · 3 years

Text

tolerate it

pairing: mob!bucky barnes x reader

warnings: violence, harassing

a/n: at this point do i know how many parts this is gonna have? no i’m expecting there to be at least two more, who knows tbh. this part was originally supposed to be champagne problems but i decided to change it to tolerate it and champagne problems will MOST LIKELY be the next one followed by tis the damn season. “tolerate it” the song is from bucky’s point of view and not y/n.

INIVISIBLE STRINGS - CHAMPAGNE PROBLEMS

If it's all in my head tell me now, tell me I've got it wrong somehow ...

- We need to talk. - her father stood in front of the door, his police hat hanging from his head. - The chief wants to put someone else on the field.

- Why? - her stomach dropped and she felt sick. Why did she felt sick? Someone else on the field would make her job easier, safer. But her job wasn’t dangerous or it hadn’t been dangerous so far. Bucky hadn’t been rude, harmful or anything of the sort. He’d protect her even and cared for her his own way. Last thing she needed was one of her father’s colleagues following her around as if she were a child. She had gotten the name of his enemy ... although she had little to no will of revelling it.

- Catherine’s son. You remember him. He’s fresh out of the police academy and you two used to be great friends when you were kids. Already got some info on the mob upstate and he could help speed things up.

- Edward was an asshole and the reason why he got info on the mob upstate was because he stole it from his partner. - she crossed her arms over her chest. She wasn’t the best undercover agent in the world, maybe because she wasn’t an agent at all but it had been their choice to put her alone on the field. A second person would only mean that any slip from them would lead to her getting offed. At least if she was alone, she could blame herself for any harm that came her way. - Shouldn’t I have been consulted when you made that decision?

- You’re not part of the force, Y/N. Besides, the sooner this is over, the sooner you can return to your life. What are you wearing anyway?

- I ...

- Y/N, thank god you’re home. - Wanda rushed into the living room, crying. Her senses were immediately heightened and the fact her father held no confidence in her whatsover no longer mattered. Wanda did. - Patrick broke up with me.

- Patrick? - who the hell was Patrick? She remembered Johan and to some extent Ben could be considered an ex-boyfriend but Patrick? Who the heck was he? Before she could question her about it, Wanda was already hugging her side, forehead pressed against her covered.

- Well, I see you’re busy. I’ll speak with you later, Y/N. - her eyes remained on the ground as the sound of his heavy uniform boots registered past her, opening the once closed door and returning it with a closed bang to its latches. The defeating sound of silence haunted both of them as Wanda stepped away, cleaning the tears of her cheeks.

- I was seeing he’d never leave. You’re lucky you have a very good actress for a friend.

- Thank you, Wanda. I’m sorry I’m this late. - she pulled Bucky’s jacket which was still laying atop her shoulders. - So, is Patrick a fake person?

- Don’t change the subject. Whose jacket is that? I called the bar and they said you weren’t there. I was worried, Y/N!

- I was with Mr. Barnes. - she held the jacket against her chest, the scent of his expensive cologne somehow calming her down. Wanda was right to scold her, she wasn’t thinking straight or safe but yet again she didn’t feel in danger when he was near her so why did it matter?

It clearly mattered to Wanda. She knew danger and she knew what they were capable off, being herself a fan of true crime. Last thing she wanted was for Y/N to suffer an accident or suddenly have an overdose or go into alcohol coma. Yet Y/N couldn’t help but stream into the unknown that was so addictive, the warm blanket of safety that he gave her. She was dumb enough to have gotten into the job so she would see it through.

The brunette of course knew why she was so sweet on this safety. She had known Y/N since the two were babies and there was no lie or hiding when she was intrigued by someone. It had happened two times in her whole life - with Chris when she was 5 and with Joshua when she was 18. There was this twinkle in her eye, that walk of pure calmness as if there was no problem in life. This, this definitely was another time that Wanda would even regret seeing or love to talk about during ringing bells’ celebrations.

- You’re a smart girl, please tell me you know the game you’re playing.

- I do. - she walked out without any more words. She knew if they were to come out she would merely wound herself and what was the use in wounding herself and holding the mirror of truth up to her face if not to drown in her own sea of insecurities?

She sat on her own bed, swallowed by the covers and blankets, shoes thrown aside and earrings in her hands. What was she doing? What was she feeling? Was it even a good idea to think about what she was feeling or even put it into thoughts? No, it wasn’t because a deep and dark part of her knew what it was and the one who wanted to do good, the one who always did good, perfect A’s, perfect assignments refuse to look at. It was best to sleep, nothing good would come out of her if she were tired and so she decided to sleep.

Morning came like a bad memory and she was up and at those classroom halls in what seemed like minutes. Things went by slowly and she found herself falling asleep on the top of her hand more than usual and she probably would’ve slept throughout her whole anatomy lesson had it not been for the girls sat on the row above her chatting in a very annoying tone. Usually Y/N would’ve just ignored it and razor focus on the lecturer but today all she wanted was to do was to ignore what he was saying. She found herself eavesdropping on their conversation; apparently there had been some confusion on the city centre deriving to some violence which also in a regular day wouldn’t have caught her attention had it not been for the mention of the mob. Her senses perked up and she started tapping her foot against the hardwood of the ground until the clock finally hit finishing time and she was out of the classroom in a rush.

Y/N held the books tight against her chest as she ran down the street, wind penetrating through the knitting holes of her cardigan as shivering her skin as she continued to run on loose and broken cobblestones not exactly knowing why and where she was running to. Well, she knew where to, she just thought better to tell herself she knew where not to.

The unlit lights of the bar/club came into view and she rushed through the door and straight to the back and to the door she was told never to open. Her hand grasped the handle and pushed it open hoping to not see it empty.

- What the ... - Mr. Barnes turned around on his chair, expecting to yell at whomever of him clumsy workers had walked in without the decency of knocking only to see his own clumsy bartender. - Looking for tutoring, petal?

- What? - she questioned before looking at the books she was holding. - Oh, no I was just ... I heard, I saw ...

- Good that means your ears and eyes work properly.

- I heard there was a commotion in the centre and that the mob was involved and I ...

- You thought to check on me? - he gave her a toothy grin, hands placed on his desk as he rose from his chair. - I’m flattered, petal.

- No, I ... I ... - she looked down at her shoes, feeling his presence as he approached her. - I thought my shift would’ve been cancelled if you or anyone else had been harmed.

- No. - he hooked a finger under her chin, gently pushing it upwards. - I’m afraid you’ll still have to work.

- Ahh ... good. - she felt her mouth dry up as she stared at him. No, you can’t do this anymore, Y/N. You’ve been compromised, go away, give up, quit, say you don’t want to work here anymore. - I have to tell you something.

No, shit. Don’t blow your own cover, what are you doing? Her inner voice yelled at her.

- I’m all ears.

- I ... - she was parched, world spinning around yet for some unholy reason she was gonna come clean and maybe eventually end tied to bricks at the end of the river. Why was she coming clean? What are you doing, Y/N? - I’m ...

- Mr. Barnes? - a third voice shattered everything, making both the mob boss and the bartender look to the owner of said third voice. Edward. - Oh, hey Y/N, I didn’t know you worked here.

- You know each other? - James’ hands were immediately on his pockets as he took a step in front of the bartender. Had she not known any better, she would’ve assumed it was a protective stance.

- We used to date each other back in prep school.

The answer knocked the two of them back. Y/N mostly because she would never in a million years dated someone like Edward as one he was the son of one of her father’s ex-girlfriend and two she barely could stand him. James, on the other hand, seemingly couldn’t see his bartender, his very clumsy bartender who enjoyed to pretend to be Betty Draper on auctions, dating the newest bar’s cleaning boy, one whom he particularly disliked.

- I see. Well, you ought to know I don’t accept work relationships. If that’s all, I was having a conversation with Y/N.

- No, it’s fine Mr. Barnes. I need to speak with Edward myself. - she punctuated the last word as if it spewed poison. Bucky looked at her, hands in fists as she walked out with the cleaning boy by the hand as if she herself hand a place in the mob herself.

She wanted to throw him to the floor once they were out of sight and had it not been for the fact he was taller and physically stronger than her so instead she shoved him against one of the walls.

- What the hell, Edward? Your ex-girlfriend?! - she whispered-shouted at him.

- It’s a reason for us to be close so instantly. Trust me, I know what I’m doing.

- Stay the fuck away from me and don’t you talk to me. - she pointed at him before storming out but not before realising she had left her books, her library borrowed books, on Mr. Barnes’ office.

She turned around out of anger, not really knowing what she was mad about. It wasn’t like she was expecting her father to pay any homage to her wishes of not having Edward around. It didn’t matter really except of course it did but she would never dare to say anything about it. She knocked on the office’s door this time, one which was opened by a very surprised James as if he expected the two ex lovers to be behind his bar reminding themselves of what love feels like.

- Forgot something, petal?

- My books. - she pointed at them laying on top of one of his chairs. - I ... they’re from the library, I need them.

- Of course. - he handed them to her as if it weighed nothing. - Anything else I can do for you, petal?

- Oh yes, sorry I forgot. - she opened her bag rummaging through it to find the box of incredibly expensive earrings she had been nervous about carrying with herself the whole day, afraid of being robbed. The bartender handed him the box, receiving a mere eyebrow raise from him. - It’s an incredible gift, Mr. Barnes but I couldn’t possibly accept it.

- Why not?

- It’s too expensive.

- It’s nothing compared to what I have.

- Well ... I’d have nowhere to wear it.

- You should wear them here.

- I don’t ... I’m not the type of woman who wears things like these.

- Come with me. - he took the box from her, moving away from where he was standing and out of the office. As if she were attached to him by some invisible string, she followed straight away, wondering where they were going. He wouldn’t kill her here, and to be honest she started to wonder if he ever would.

He stopped in front of the bathroom’s, opening the door for her and standing near it. She looked at him in confusion, not entirely knowing what he wanted to do in the bathroom or why he wanted her in the bathroom. Was he going to kill her in the bathroom? She stood on her two feet still for a few seconds before going inside still wary of his intentions, whatever they were.

She could hear the sound of her ballerina slips as she entered the tilled dark decorated bathroom which was cleaner than it did during the night. His hand stood in the small of her back leading it against the black marbled counter connected to the mirrored wall.

- May I? - he opened the box and she nodded, looking at herself in the mirror. She stood there, motionless yet with feelings heightened as he pushed her hair away from her ears to put the earrings on her. They were slightly heavy, a sign of their value and her mind couldn’t wrap around the fact such expensive jewellery was hanging from her ear lobes. - You look exactly like the type of woman who wears things like those, petal.

- You flatter me.

- I think you just don’t flatter yourself enough. - she turned her head to face him. She could feel his breathe against her forehead. All she could sense was that, his breathe, the smell of his cologne and the sound of silence. Looking up to him, he could see her own reflection, the reflection of her earrings glistening on his baby blue eyes. She didn’t know what to say, eyes glued to his as they both got close to each other until each other’s lips were touching, melting in want.

The silence seemed to burst into fireworks of each other’s heartbeats as his hands held her waist close to him. They were too lost on each other, both forgetting for a moment who each was to give way to their own choices.

- Mr. Barnes? - someone knocked on the door, that invisible string pulling them together breaking as they stopped kissing and stepped away from each other.

- I’m busy. - he yelled out.

- Mr. Barnes there’s someone here for you.

- I said I’m busy.

- No, it’s fine. - she rushed her fingers through her hair, one hand against the counter holding her up. What had she done? - You should go.

- Petal.

- It’s fine. - both hands now held the counter, eyes shut. - You should go.

I sit and watch you ...

taglist: @lookiamtrying @mariamermaid @sebastianstansqueen @unmagically @buckybarnes1982 @mela-noche @lowercasegenius @randomweirdooo @projectcampbell @sebbystanlover-vk @jevans2 @hollarious @itsallyscorner @tcc-gizmachine @saiyanprincessswanie

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aelingalathyniusrailme · 3 years

Text

my attempt at fanfiction it is smutty

(also in azriels perspective)

azriel was leaning against the ledge of the balcony at the river house, a glass of wine in his hand and his gaze far away. he stared out at the city he loved and the sidra beneath him when he heard a shuffle of feet , a small bang and a nasty curse.

“hi love,” he said into the air, putting his glass down. gwyn blushes and bites her lip, sliding underneath him so his arms are wrapped around her. he is content to just stand there as they watch the humming city. his head quieted and his swirling shadows calmed as they tended to do in her presence. az could feel the mating bond glowing between them strong but soft and sweet like an endless melody. he heard the song between their soul’s mine, it seemed to say, you are mine and I am yours.

gwyn breaks the silence asking what he’s doing out here and he tells her “it’s funny I’ve been doing this for 500 years and even now it can be overwhelming.”

she nods “every so often I feel like it would be so much easier to just go back into the library and hide from all this.” she gestures to the lit-up city in front of them.

“gwyn” he turns her head around so she’s looking at him “you know that if you wanted to go back I would fully support you. I’d miss you like crazy but I’d support you.” and she gives him a broad smile, the one that makes his heart pound and his head dizzy.

“I know but I am ready to live and I want to do it with you.” he smiles but words don’t feel like enough so instead he grabs her hand, spins her around, pulling her close to him, and kisses her. letting his actions tell her everything his words can’t and when she kisses him back his head is dizzy and he knows he could get drunk on the feeling. like he’s the question and she’s the answer, as if he had been singing the same hopeless song for 500 years and than she came and gave it life. gwyn let out a soft gasp and with that single sound, he knows he could come undone.

they break apart for a second and she looks at him in a way that only she, ever has, with her hands around his neck, face rosy with a healthy flush “I love you az.” his heart strains and he understands now, that this is love, this is real, and he had never been in love before. not in a way that mattered. azriel knows they should stay but can’t find it in himself to waste this moment so he wraps them in his shadows and winnows them to his secret apartment, the one that not even rhys knows about. he turns them and pushes her against the wall with a scarred hand pressed against the stone and the other stroking her jaw. he moves it up and with the barest whisper of a touch, traces the constellations in her freckles. getting lost in the intensity of her teal eyes and the feeling of her skin he forgets to respond so she tilts her head expectantly.

he laughs, the sound deep and real “I love you too.” gwyn raises her eyebrows as if to say go on and azriel can’t believe he ever felt a fraction of what he felt for her, for anyone else “I love the way your nose scrunches when you get excited. I love your smile and the way you light up every room you walk into. I love that you’re a competitive asshole.” she looks at him with mock hurt and he brushes a hair from her face. “I love the face you make when I catch you reading smut and you pretend you aren’t. I love how brave you are.” his voice turns huskier and drenched with arousal. “I love how you taste.” he licks his lips. grazing her ear with his teeth “I love the way you moan when I’m inside you.” gwyn lets out a whimper. az smirks “yeah just like that.”

“Are you sure we should’ve left?” gwyn asks halfheartedly, her eyes avoiding him. he grips her chin softly but firmly to make her look at him. he brushes a finger over the curve of her mouth and she brings her tongue out to meet it. the sight makes his cock strain against the confines of his pants. he can smell the change in her scent, the sweetness of her arrousal and his pants tighten further.

his eyebrows raise full of amusement and lust, “oh yeah this is much more important.”

she bites her lip “mmm”

“now will you let me go back to listing all of the reasons I love you,” he says as he trails kisses from her jaw going lower and lower. he lifts her shirt to reveal her chest.

“we might be here a-ohh” she moans not getting a chance to finish her sentence as az traces her nipple with his tongue. gwyn began to squirm but az held her arms tight above her head keeping her pinned as he sucked her tit while squeezing the other, feeling them go hard. he sucked and sucked, never wanting to stop hearing the sound of gwyn moaning, of her beneath him. she manages to get a hand free and immediately it goes to her slit but az bats it away. he lets out a low snarl, looks her in the eye and shakes his head.

“az” she pleads

“someone’s greedy today” he hums, still sucking. finally, he lifts his head only to capture her mouth in a possessive kiss as he carries them to their bed. he lays her down, gets on his knees, and purrs “I am going to worship you like never before”

“you better get to it then” gwyn tries to smirk but instead it comes out breathy. az chuckles as he trails his fingers up and down her thigh, every time getting closer and closer to her slit. finally, he moves his hand up and traces it as lightly as possible, emitting a shutter from gwyn. he starts to stroke her, avoiding her clit, wanting to enjoy gwyn’s reaction before tasting her because he knows once he starts he may never be able to stop. all at once az brings his head toward her and licks that one spot while simultaneously slipping a finger inside her. his tongue making deliciously slow circles while his hand pumps to the same rhythm. slowly but surely he begins to build up speed and pressure, going faster and faster, in and out and in and out. gwyns breath quickens and one hand grips the sheets while the other runs through his raven black hair, pushing him into her, desperately trying to get more friction. he happily obliged and then with a final push she jumped over the edge and climaxed, cumming on his expert tongue. he continued to flick and pump her past completion. her body squirming on the bed, her back arching in pleasure.

finally, he stood up with an expression only an arrogant cocky male could make “satisfied” the question was laced with a challenge he knew gwyn could never ignore. he unbuckled his pants ready to take control but instead, gwyn stood up with newfound energy. her stealth and speed could rival the spymaster in front of her.

she slipped in front of him enjoying the shock on her mates face. in his eyes, she read the question and with a devilish smirk, she responded “I guess you taught me well” and she pushed him down on the bed. he fell back with ease, az would swear that everything about this amazing female made him go weak in the knees. just one look, just one sniff of her amazing scent, just one taste and he could crumble. gwyn looked at his shadows pointedly as if she was speaking to them. his confusion must have shown because her smirk only broadened. suddenly he felt his hands being whipped back towards the headboard. he turned to look and it had seemed his shadows had pinned his hands, leaving him at her mercy. he felt his cock stiffen. holy shit he thought, the fantasy suddenly a reality. she walked to a dresser to the side of the bed, swinging her hips in the way she knew made him crazy. his eyes tracked her every movement as he licked his lips. she opened the doors and pulled out two colorful bands that seemed to shimmer in the moonlight. one blue, the color of his siphons, the other a vibrant teal, the color of her eyes. ribbons he realized with no small amount of delight, they were ribbons. his shadows released his right hand only for gwyn to replace their grip. she took it into her own and kissed the scars, as though to remind him he was no longer alone. gwyn then took the cobalt blue ribbon and tied his hand to the post. instead of going around, she straddled his waist to get to the other side of the bed. his breathing hitched.

az licked his lips, his throat going dry. “oh the things I would do to you if my arms weren’t pinned”

gwyn hopped off his lap as quickly as she hopped on going to his other arm. “like” she teased back.

“well I would fuck you until you couldn’t walk straight,” he said simply.

gwyn felt the increasing wetness begin to drip down her thighs but she refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction, “that is a very enticing offer, one that I will happily reclaim later but” she drawled

“but” he repeated.

she waited a moment, basking in the anticipation, then she trailed her arm down his toned body brushing it against his cock. she felt it twitch and heard az groan, gwyn grinned sweetly

“but today we play by my rules”

az felt it twitch again, the competitive asshole in him prayed she hadn’t seen but of course she noticed and her smirk was nothing short of feral. this, of course, did not help his raging hard-on and only managed to make him somehow want her more. now on the other side of the bed gwyn took his left hand and repeated the same steps she had taken on his right. kissing his hands and then tying it to the post with the teal ribbon. gwyn looked over him with a satisfied glance, “my ribbon” she teased in a sultry voice. she moved to the end of the bed, her body emitting a slight glow while azriel's shadows arranged themselves atop gwyn’s head to form a crown of shadows. she looked like a goddess, his goddess. gwyn ran her hand up and down the front of his pants, slowly undoing and pulling them off. she bent down and looked up at her mate, and said “try to last will you” azriel barely heard her as all he could think about was his throbbing cock and the female tormenting him. he tried to come up with a witty retort but then gwyn leaned in, took her tongue, and licked up the startling length of him, circling the head, shocking him from his thoughts. she teased and teased always going just a tad too light and slow. az tried to lift his hips but found he couldn’t. gwyn must have spelled the ribbons. his head was proud but his cock was pissed. gwyn smirked as if she knew what he was thinking. azriel let out a deep groan. the sound snapped her self-control and she took him into her mouth while using her hand to stroke the shaft. she bobbed her head up and down. az bucked knowing he couldn’t last much longer, one more stroke, one more lick and he knew it would have been over but instead, gwyn hopped off him, just stopping. he let out a complaint but it was muffled by gwyn seizing his lips with her own. the kiss was sweet but deadly and took azriel’s breath in a way he never knew was possible. gwyn lifted her head, grazing her teeth along his ear while her hand found its way to his dick. she stroked once as she whispered “cum for me”. with those dirty words from the cruel mouth of the female he loved more than life itself azriel exploded. released hit him like an avalanche, pleasure unlike any he’s ever known. he groaned her name and couldn’t remember his own. gwyn winked and said “I win” the magic holding him back broke and he smiled and flipped gwyn over holding her gaze.

her breath hitched and he smirked “not just yet.” gwyn laughed, her smile shining as he looked into his mates eyes, her hands around his neck. he lined himself up with her and slowly pushed in, letting her adjust to his length and girth. she bit her lip but a little moan still managed to escape.

“az” she groaned. he began to move inside her, forgetting where she ended and he began. he moved at a leisurely pace as if they had all the time in the world. gwyn wrapped her legs around his waist and flipped them over putting her on top.

“dominate little creature” he purred. she rode him fast with his hips lifting to meet hers, the mating bond a living breathing thing between them. it was a never-ending song between their souls, glowing. his shadows swirled around them, entangling themselves in gwyn’s hair and up and down her arms and legs as if they were home. as she rode him, she took his hands into hers and brought them up to her chest.

she looked him in the eye and said the words he had been waiting for 500 years to hear

“you’re mine”

together they came in ecstasy. pleasure racing through their conjoined bodies leaving them nothing short of fulfilled. azriel gripped her waist while gwyn arched into his touch. each other’s names, the only words they knew. both of them drunk on happiness.

gwyn jumped off az and fell back onto the enormous bed. they turned to look at each other. az ran his fingers through her soft flaming hair, twirling it between his fingers as though he was content to do so all day. he leaned with his lips hovering above hers and whispered “you’re mine too.”

#gwynriel #gwynriel fanfiction #i tried guys #gwynriel smut #gwyn x azriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel i don’t know his last name #acosf #acotar

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katsukisblackteddy · 3 years

Text

The Warrior Queen & Her Pharaoh: Part I

Part I: In the Beginning

In honor of Black History Month (that’s coming up), and because I’m a nerd for mythology of any type, I thought it would be fun to write about one of my favorite time periods, Ancient Egypt.

We didn’t really get to spend much time on them in school, and I love learning about these powerful Egyptian gods, goddess, pharaohs, and queens.

So N E ways...ALSO THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 400 FOLLOWERS...um WTF ILY <3

I TOOK SOME CREATIVE LIBERTIES (all characters are 18+ in this)

Pairings: pharaoh!god! Bakugou x warrior!princess! Reader Warnings: cursing, disrespectful people, bad bitch Mitsuki Description: Before the new pharaoh can be officially crowned, he must wed. You, the queen of a large warrior tribe called, The Zodos Tribe, are in the same position...the only problem? The future pharaoh is a bit of an ass.

*Extra info: this is written in third person so even though this is a reader insert, I’ll be writing it as if you’re another character so basically no me/my*

and yes, I’m aware it is kinda short and Bakugou isn’t in it that much, but it’s to set the scene lol...I promise there will be a lot of Bakubitch content in the next part

**Tag List is at the bottom**

𓂀 PART I 𓂀 PART II 𓂀

The arid air and blazing sun didn’t make for the most comfortable environments, and yet many people called the desert home.

In a secluded river valley lived the Zodos Tribe, the most fearsome warriors throughout the land, known for their brutality and unmatched strength. Though to (y/n), they were her family and her people.

Princess (y/n), the eldest of seven children, sat in the ornate palace that overlooked the main river. She had recently been crowned the queen of her people after her father chose to abdicate the throne. Her attendants sat around her while others waved large palm leaves, blowing the dry air in an attempt to make it cooler.

“(y/n), ready your belongings! You are to depart with your father within the hour.” The 18 year old turned seeing her mother’s slim form approach her.

Eshe was the personification of grace, similar to her only daughter, though she was taller. Her smooth dark skin glittered in the sunlight and her golden eyes searched her daughter’s face for any signs of backtalk before a content look crossed her face when (y/n) simply sighed and nodded.

“We readied her belongings already, Queen Mother.” (y/n)’s attendant, Subira, answered as she bowed upon her entrance to the room.

“Very well.” Eshe nodded, her snake like eyes shifting from her daughter and her servants to the landscape. “Go ready yourself. You are to meet royalty, Girl.”

“I am royalty, Mother.” (y/n)’s tone was laced with boredom as she stood from her seat. “What’s so special about these royals I am to meet, anyways?”

“That is not my place to tell.” She replied before pushing her daughter towards her room and into the large bathroom. The cool stone rubbed against her warm skin as (y/n)’s attendants unrobed her and bathed her while two others released her hair.

Some time later, the teen was redressed and her hair had been braided again, this time with decorative gold beads and thread woven into her thick dark hair. She had been dressed into a white sleeveless sheath dress, over that a sheer white and gold kalasiri tied in place with a gold and intricately beaded sash. A wide beaded collar was secured around her neck, brightly colored stones and metals woven and set into the necklace.

(y/n) slid on a new pair of reed sandals after Subira had finished her makeup, the dramatic black liner around her almond shaped eyes made the golden hue that she had inherited from her mother shine in the light. “Let us depart.” (y/n) motioned to her ladies as they nodded, following after her as the teenage queen adjusted the heavy silver and gold bracelets around her wrists.

“You look like a true queen, (y/n).” Her mother said as (y/n) walked past the room she had once been in.

“Thank you Mother. I will be off now.” (y/n) called back, not waiting for a response before walking out of the palace and towards her royal chariot where her father stood talking to one of the servants.

“Prepare the chariots.” Her father’s deep voice commanded as the servants nodded running off to get the large chariots ready for the journey. (y/n)’s father turned to look at her, his dark brown eyes looking her over once before smiling. “You look beautiful, Daughter.”

“Thank you, Father.” (y/n) smiled back as the servants ran back over stating that the chariots were ready to go.

(y/n) didn’t ask many questions of her father, mainly because she didn’t really care where they were going, though butterflies seemed to fill her stomach when the large palace in the capital city came into view as they crossed over another dune.

“Your mother asked me to remind you of your manners and your station before we left.” (y/n)’s father told her, as the girl sighed and rolled her eyes. Her father chuckled at her reaction before the pair stepped off of their chariots and were met by royal attendants from the palace.

“King Nafi, Princess (y/n), please follow me to the throne room. The Pharaoh and Great Royal Wife, are eager to converse.”

“I am a-” (y/n) didn’t finish her sentence, feeling her father’s strong hand come down on her shoulder before he stepped forward and followed the attendant up the stairs and inside the large palace, leaving (y/n) to catch up.

“Stupid man. I’m a queen.” (y/n) mumbled to herself as she followed the men into the throne room.

The teen stood beside her father, her eyes gazing over the two royal figures in front of her. One was a man with dark hair and dark eyes. A woman sat beside him, her hair ash blonde and her eyes a crimson color. They were both dressed lavishly as the woman sighed, mumbling something to her husband, before offering a smile to (y/n).

“I am sorry. My son seems to be unable to be found.” She told the girl who simply nodded before giving her father a look.

“(y/n), why don’t you walk the grounds? I have business to attend to with the Pharaoh and Great Royal Wife.” (y/n)’s father brushed her off, shooting her a look before practically pushing the girl towards the door.

“He doesn’t even have any power anymore! How dare he treat me like this. Why the hell did I even come if I’m not sitting in on the business? This is so stu-” (y/n) ranted to herself, not realizing where she was walking before she bumped into something...more like someone.

“Watch where you’re going, Extra!” The boy’s gruff voice said, his tone laced with venom as his red eyes glared down at where she sat after being knocked over.

“Oh get off your high horse! You can’t talk to me that way! I’m a Queen!” Her eyes finally landed on the boy’s face, his ash blonde hair wild and spiky as his crimson eyes seemed to darken and narrow.

He didn’t wear full linens, only enough to cover his lower half, leaving his chest exposed. His skin was tanned from spending most of his time in the sun and a thin shine of sweat covered his muscles as if he had just been doing some type of physical activity before they had bumped into each other.

“Well here you aren’t.” The boy told her before scoffing and walking off down a corridor, not even bothering to help (y/n) up.

“Sorry. It was nice to meet you though.” A spiky redhead said with a small closed-mouth smile. He had been following the rude blonde along with another blonde male, a dark haired male, a pink skinned girl, and a dark haired girl.

The group of teens were about to say something else to the girl when the explosive blonde from earlier could be heard yelling, “Kirishima, I didn’t allow you to socialize!”

“Uh r-right. Bye!” The red haired boy said before they all disappeared down the expansive hall.

“What a jerk.” (y/n) scoffed thinking back to the ash blonde. Getting up and dusting her hands off, she continued to walk around the halls.

The black girl returned back to the throne room after some time, having gotten lost though she was too proud to ask for help from one of the many servants scurrying around.

“Ah, you’ve arrived just in time for dinner, (y/n).” The blonde woman spoke, gesturing towards a large open room that overlooked the river, a large table filled with food sat in the middle.

“I apologize.” (y/n) said simply before taking a seat where the blonde woman had gestured, unfortunately across from that annoying boy from earlier. “Where is my father? My servants?” (y/n) wondered after a moment of silence, noticing that the people in question were missing.

“They’ve left some time ago.” She answered. “This is your new home after all.”

“Excuse me?” (y/n) and the blonde boy had the same reaction, choking on their food with wide eyes.

“Yes, your father never told you of the agreement?” The brown haired man asked.

“Agreement?” She repeated.

“Yes, you are to marry our son in two days time. It’s been arranged since before you both wore garments.” The blonde woman said with a small laugh.

(Fun fact: Ancient Egyptian children didn’t wear clothes until they were six years old, so they ran around naked except for the jewelry they wore)

“Him?”

“Her?”

“Show some respect to her Katsuki! She is to be your wife!” The woman said, slapping the boy’s head quickly causing (y/n) to smirk and laugh lightly.

Katsuki didn’t like that very much, glaring at the golden eyed girl with a low growl.

“Mitsuki, Katsuki...” The man started to say softly, flashing at smile at (y/n).

“You’re right Masaru. If only our son wasn’t such a brat.” Mitsuki sighed, slapping Katsuki again before going back to her food.

“I am the Pharaoh, you can’t treat me that way!” Katsuki protested, angrily cutting his meat.

“What was that?” Mitsuki questioned, her red eyes narrowing as she shot a warning look at her son.

“Nothing.” Katsuki mumbled, his eyes narrowing into a glare at the black girl across from him.

What a dick. What did my parents get me into? (y/n) thought to herself as she stared back at the boy across from her.

Tag List: (Let me know if y’all wanna be added. Just send me a message)

@bakugous-mamas

TAGS:

#katsukisblackteddy #pharaoh bakugou #warrior princess reader #bakugou x black reader #ancient egypt au #bnha x poc!reader #bnha x black reader #in honor of black history month coming up #ancient egypt #TWQ&HP Mini Series #i don't know how many parts I want to write for this yet #black history month 2021 #mha x black reader #mha x poc!reader #pls i love mitsuki

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house-of-galathynius · 3 years

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Only You ~ Rowaelin

A Rowaelin fanfic, set if Aelin’s parents had lived and she had met Rowan under normal circumstances, if Erawan and Maeve weren’t threats. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter One

Prologue: The Night Before

The moon was high in the sky as Aelin made her way through the palace courtyard and towards the river that ran beyond. It was well past the time anyone would be out here. She was confident in her abilities at keeping hidden as she strolled down the path and stopped as she reached the waters edge.

In the winter she wouldn’t even hesitate at crossing the river. Terrasen winters were harsh and bitterly cold. Parts of the river where it flowed slowly would freeze over from mid-December until February. But it was September, and that meant the water was running freely; so Aelin had no choice but to jump in and swim quickly across. If it wasn’t for her fire magic that was able to dry her off within seconds, she would hate that crossing more.

She checked behind her, ensuring no one was following and quickly made off into the night.

The walk from the palace into the city itself was not long if you were taking the normal route. For Aelin, she would have to go the long way round; traipsing through thick brush and woodland to reach the edge of the city.

After too many scrapes and close encounters with the ground she saw the distant lights of the city. As she entered the city walls themselves she marvelled at the white stone buildings and the way they glowed in the moonlight, the streetlights flickering in the shadows. It was louder here, the taverns only just opening for the night. A group of Fae stumbled down the street, arm in arm, laughing at each other.

Aelin knew she was privileged, to live in a palace, to have maids and cooks and cleaners. She was happy there, with her family. But sometimes, when she would sneak off to see Sam, she wished she could have a life like this; a life of freedom, to do what she wanted whenever she wanted. The stolen moments with Sam were ones she cherished.

She approached the large store front, a dark wooden sign hanging above the door reading Little Library of Orynth. The real library of Orynth sat above the city, it’s walls protected with magic to ward off any unwanted attention. And whilst Aelin loved that library, she came to find the old librarians there to be too strict, too stuffy, to fully enjoy the books they held.

She had found Sam’s library years ago; when it was not Sam’s library. Her father had taken her there to browse the collection of romance books which were not available elsewhere. Since then, she had come back more times than she could remember.

Sam had always been there, in the shadows of the towering shelves and the dusty books. It hadn’t been until she was eighteen and Sam twenty that they had crossed paths properly. They had bonded over their mutual love for a series of books and had continued from there. It had been two years and every moment she had with Sam was precious.

She gave a few gentle taps on the oak door and waited. It was only a few seconds later when Sam was there, a smile on his face, dust covering his clothes and his hair messy. His classic look.

“You really need a haircut.” She grinned at him and placed a kiss on his cheek.

“And you really need to learn time management.” He kissed her right back and pulled her into the darkened library.

“I was trying to get away sooner, but Aedion was complaining about his new training—“ she trailed off. “You don’t need to hear about Aedion’s boring life.”

She grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pulled him closer. She took in his scent, old books, leather and a faint hint of lavender, before bringing her lips to his own.

She lost herself in the softness of his lips, the way he caressed her head as she leaned into him. Her hands found his hair and slid through the messy locks.

Sam broke away first, his hand finding her own, and slipping his fingers through hers. “I have a treat for you.”

“I hope it’s chocolate. Kasper has me on a diet.” Kasper was her trainer, and he had put her on a new diet, to try and curb her appetite for sweets.

Sam laughed. “Kasper can try, but we both know you will not be stopped when it comes to chocolate.” He continued walking, up the stairs and into the apartment above the library. It was rare to find somewhere like this in the city. Most buildings would house two or three shops over several stories; people’s homes were found just outside of the city walls, tucked away amongst the foothills of the Staghorns. Sam had been lucky. The old man who had owned this place before him had converted the floors above into a large, airy apartment. The ceilings were high, dark oak beams jutted across the ceilings, the walls a light beige, and the floor an old herringbone design, worn with years of footsteps. There were little touches of Sam dotted around; a painting he had purchased on a trip to the Southern Continent, a large rug which Aelin had bought him for his birthday. Scattered amongst his things were her own. Books, shirts, a hairbrush which perched on the mantle. She could imagine living here with him, and sometimes it hit her that none of this was permanent, that her love with Sam would one day have to end.

“It’s not much, but I found it when I was digging through some old trunks of books I found.”

Aelin snapped away from her thoughts and looked towards Sam who was holding a badly wrapped book. She took it from his hands, turning it over, shaking it to check that it wasn’t, in fact, chocolate.

“What’s the occasion?” She sat on the sofa, tucking her legs beneath her.

“Does there have to be an occasion for me to get the woman I love a gift?” She blushed at the words. It was still felt foreign to her, the concept of love, and the idea that she was in love with Sam and he with her. And every time he said he loved her, it would fill her with a warmth that she couldn’t describe.

She hastily unwrapped the book and her breath caught in her throat. “Sam… this is—“ she opened the cover. “This is too much.”

“I saw it and immediately thought of you. It’s from Eyllwe. I remembered you used to have a friend from there and you had always said—“

“I love it, Sam. Thank you.” She swept her fingers over the patterns and ridges of the leather, admiring the detail in the small book. The fact he had remembered Nehemia, that he had remembered what she had meant to Aelin… her heart swelled.

She didn’t know what to say, so she showed him instead. Slowly peppering kisses along his jaw, lower.

And lower.

He moaned at the feel of her. A sound that sparked something within. The lazy touches became faster as they both raced to take the others clothes off first; which were hastily thrown to the floor, neither caring where they landed. They were wrapped in each other’s embrace, their mouths moving together, Sam’s soft hands caressing her curves leaving warmth wherever he touched. Her breath was heavy as she let Sam pull her across the room, never straying too far from the other.

They were moving towards the bed; groans mixed into the frantic kisses, their touches fevered and rough as they made up for the two weeks apart. But Sam was gentle as he laid her on the mattress, his eyes devouring her. She heated at his touch, as he showed her all the ways he had missed her.

And when they lay there later, Sam’s head on her shoulder, his fingers trailing patterns along her skin, she didn’t think she could want anything more than she did right then.

The two of them dozed on and off, until Aelin’s stomach growled. Sam huffed a laugh at the sound. But neither of them made to move, they stayed wrapped in each others arms for a while longer. Sam was the first to break the silence.

“Run away with me.” Aelin balked at the invitation. Turning her head to look at Sam. He was looking back at her. “I know it’s insane; but just listen…”

He stood from the bed, rummaging to find some pants. Aelin watched his movements as he made around the room gathering up papers and books, before he laid them on the bed in front of her. “I’ve done my research. We could head to the Southern Continent and with the money I have saved and the inheritance from Terrance I can buy us a house with enough land for horses, enough room to raise children. It would be perfect, and the Southern Continent is beautiful, I know you would love it, Aelin.” Of course she would love it. And she was sure she would love the life that Sam was proposing, but in her soul she knew that it was a dream, one that would likely never be able to come true. She hated to ruin the bliss they had been in, hated the look on Sam’s face as he saw her hesitation. She shook her head once, clearing her mind, trying to think of the easiest way to say that his dream would always be a dream. But the words didn’t come.

Sam spoke again, “I know it’s insane. And you would be giving up a lot, I know. But there are other people who can take the throne Aelin.” He took her hands in his, eyes wide with excitement. “People have given it up for less.”

“What of my family, Sam?” Aelin stood then, grabbing the clothes that were strewn across the floor. “I love you Sam; you know that. But it’s one thing for me to be sneaking around with you here in Orynth, but to runaway from here completely?” She shook her head. “I could not do that to my family… to my kingdom.” Sam’s face fell, she saw the defeat in his features. “Is it not enough that we have each other right now?”

“Of course it is. But then what happens when you have to marry, when you have to produce heirs for the throne?” This had been a conversation she had wanted to avoid at all costs. She would be expected to marry, and her family would certainly not let her marry Sam. There was also the other small problem of her immortality. “We pretend that everything is perfect, we have our stolen nights, and we ignore the dark cloud that has been over us since we began this thing.”

“Can we not do this now? Please.” Aelin put on her shoes. “I have to go. Guests are arriving tomorrow and I need some sleep.”

“So we’re not going to talk about this?” He looked so hurt, so devastated at her leaving.

“Not tonight.” She kissed his cheek. “I’ll see you soon.”

And then she was gone.

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grigori77 · 3 years

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Summer 2021′s Movies - My Top Ten Favourite Films (Part 1)

The Runners-Up:

20. LUCA – I’ll admit I really wasn’t sold on Disney/Pixar’s coming-of-age fantasy comedy, which revolves around a pair of young sea monsters living off the coast of the 1950s Italian Riviera, who discover they can assume human form when they dry out and go on land on a quest of discovery. Thankfully the strong reviews convinced me to give it a chance – this is a frothy and irreverent romp through an exotically nostalgic world filled with Vespas, pasta-eating contests and found families that’s fun for kids of all ages.

19. FAST & FURIOUS 9 – the high concept action franchise may be bursting under the ever-increasing weight of its own ludicrousness, but it’s still TONS of fun, packed with stunning over-the-top action, colourful globe-trotting and a loveable bunch of misfits we’ve grown incredibly fond of over the past TWENTY YEARS. This time Dom (the irrepressible Vin Diesel) and the team are up against ruthless hi-tech mercenary Jakob (John Cena), a lethal jack-of-all-trades with a dark connection to the Toretto name.

18. REMINISCENCE – Westworld co-creator Lisa Joy’s attempt to make it on the big screen looks set to go down as one of the biggest cinematic flops of 2021, which is a shame because the feature-debuting writer-director has crafted a genuinely fascinating speculative sci-fi noir detective thriller. Set in a darkly dystopian future in which Global Warming has caused the sea levels to rise and society to start breaking down, it tells the story of Nick Bannister (Hugh Jackman), a former soldier who ekes out a living using revolutionary tech to help the idle rich relive their fondest memories, until a life-changing mystery from his own past resurfaces, threatening to tear his whole world apart. Frustratingly, it looks like most audiences are going to bypass this, which is a criminal loss.

17. FREE GUY – after a seven year hiatus, Night at the Museum director Shawn Levy returns to the big screen in fine form with this deliriously inventive fantastical comedy adventure about Guy (a typically on-fire Ryan Reynolds), an NPC in an anarchic, Grand Theft Auto style MMORPG called Free City who discovers his own sentience after falling in love with Millie (Killing Eve’s Jodie Comer), a player with a hidden agenda that puts them both at odds with the game’s nefarious creator, Antwan (a thoroughly hilarious Taika Waititi).

16. EVANGELION 3.0 + 1.01: THRICE UPON A TIME – visionary anime creator Hideaki Anno brings his long-running sci-fi saga to a close with this fourth instalment to his wildly ambitious cinematic “Rebuild” of cult TV series Neon Genesis Evangelion. It’s as frothy, melodramatic and bonkers as ever, packed full of weighty themes and crazy ideas, while the animation maintains this series’ ridiculously high levels of quality and the action is as explosive as ever, and Hideaki brings the whole mad mess to a climax that’s as rich, powerful and thoroughly befuddling as the saga deserves.

15. THOSE WHO WISH ME DEAD – Sicario writer Taylor Sheridan returns to the director’s chair (after impressive debut Wind River) with this intense and enthralling suspense thriller adapted by bestselling author Michael Koryta (along with Sheridan and Blood Diamond’s Charles Leavitt) from his own acclaimed novel. Angelina Jolie is (ahem) fiery but fallible as haunted smokejumper Hanna Faber, whose PTSD drives her to protect a desperate boy (Finn Little) who’s being hunted through the wilds of Montana by a pair of relentless assassins (Aidan Gillen and Nicholas Hoult).

14. CRUELLA – far from the clunky cash-in retcon many were predicting, Disney’s ambitious black comedy crime caper does a thoroughly admirable job in delivering this fascinating and deeply compelling reimagining of the story of rogue fashion designer Cruella de Vil (one of the best performances I’ve ever seen Emma Stone deliver, hands down), the dastardly villainess of 101 Dalmatians. She’s certainly far more complex here, no longer a raging monster, but far from a whitewashed PC apologist, either, much more of a morally grey antihero with a very wicked dark side – then again, with I, Tonya director Craig Gillespie at the helm it’s not really a surprise. Richly designed and dripping in spectacularly adventurous period detail, this is an divine romp from start to finish.

13. THE GREEN KNIGHT – the latest feature from writer director David Lowery (Ain’t Them Bodies Saits, Pete’s Dragon, The Old Man & the Gun) is as offbeat and unusual as you’d expect from a visionary filmmaker with such a wildly varied CV. Adapting the fantastical chivalric romance Sir Gawain & the Green Knight, he’s crafted what’s surely destined to be remembered as the year’s STRANGEST film, but it’s a work of aching beauty and introspective imagination that sears itself into the memory and rewards the viewer’s patience despite its leisurely pace. Dev Patel is unbearably sexy and wonderfully complex as Gawain, while Sean Harris delivers show-stopping support with stately charisma and world-weary integrity as King Arthur. This film is sure to divide opinions as well as audiences, but I think it’s a bona fide masterpiece that must be seen to be believed.

12. CANDYMAN – after watching this wildly imaginative and frequently gut-wrenching soft-reboot/sequel to Bernard Rose’s acclaimed adaptation of Clive Barker’s short story The Forbidden, I feel supremely confident about emerging writer-director Nia DaCosta’s coming MCU breakout with The Marvels. Wisely papering over the clunky previous sequels, this streamlined trailblazing deep dive into the pure horror of the legend of the righteously mad spectral killer haunting the Chicago housing ghetto of Cabrini-Green sees a daring modern artist (Aquaman’s Yahya Abdul-Mateen II) find his latest project turning into a dangerously self-destructive obsession. Writer-producer Jordan Peele’s fingerprints are all over this, but DaCosta clearly shows signs that she’s going to be a hell of a talent to watch in the future.

11. THE WITCHER: NIGHTMARE OF THE WOLF – I wouldn’t normally shout about an animated spinoff to a TV series like this, but I was SO INSANELY IMPRESSED with this brilliant prequel to Netflix’ popular fantasy show (which clearly intends to lay some origin story groundwork for the impending second season) that I just can’t help myself. Recounting the backstory of Geralt of Rivia’s own Witcher mentor Vesemir, this beautifully expands on the already compelling universe the series has created, as well as delivering some breath-taking thrills and chills through some of the most exquisite cell animation I’ve ever seen outside of the greats of anime. A must-see for Witcher fans, then, but one I’d also highly recommend to anyone who likes their animation a bit more grown-up and edgy.

#movies 2021 #luca #disney luca #fast & furious 9 #reminiscence #reminiscence movie #free guy #evangelion thrice upon a time #rebuild of evangelion 4 #those who wish me dead #those who wish me dead movie #cruella #cruella movie #the green knight #the green knight movie #candyman #candyman 2021 #the witcher nightmare of the wolf #awesome sauce

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justarandomsideblog · 3 years

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This is thrown together on the page with zero editing so there's probably many glaring mistakes but I wanted to get it out there so here ya go

oOo

Fundy falls in love with the piano when he is very young and L’Manburg is nothing more than a van, and it’s just a small keyboard he can play with on the floor while his father makes war plans but it’s how it begins. He plays it in the months it takes him to grow up, maturing faster than it takes for Tommy and Tubbo to reach adulthood.

He plays it until he’s old enough for his father to replace the keyboard in his hands with a sword.

He’s seven months yet thirteen years old when he’s allowed into the war room, fidgeting hands folded tightly in his lap. There is no time to play keyboard anymore, and it’s left forgotten in his nest of blankets and pillows when the whole thing goes up in a devastating blast.

The war ends and he plays again on a makeshift piano, given to him by his uncles who teach him to play more complex melodies in the quiet moments when they’re not working. Yet those moments become few and far between in the months it takes Fundy to age to sixteen, the same age his young uncles had turned before Fundy was even born barely ten months before.

He cherishes the moments before everything falls apart once more. Yet another war begins and he sets aside the keyboard again to fight. His fingers are calloused in ways soft paw pads like his should never be, raw and bleeding from the sword he holds the second time he watches his home go up in smoke.

Eret gifts him a piano one year after he was born, when he turns seventeen and his aging has finally begun to slow. They help him set it up in his home, way too large for the orphaned teenage hybrid, and it gleams beautifully in the flickering torchlight. His passion, lost with his father, flares up once more and he plays for Eret and Phil, a moment of peace. Finally peace. Finally, he thinks, the swords will be hung up on the wall and peace will reign at last- swords have no place in peace, as art has no place in war.

The moment shatters; Eret, having never received Fundy’s message, doesn’t make it to the adoption, and Phil leaves- the Butcher Army, Fundy and Tubbo’s subsequent disownment and Tommy’s exile leaving the angel nothing to stay in L’Manburg for. So now he plays for the silence, not even the music filling the emptiness he has always relied on, and there he realizes the truth that will always weigh heavily in his gut.

There will always be another war.

Doomsday carries with it the weight of this realization, and he grins painfully through the tears pouring down his face as his house is blown away, piano keys withering into nothingness, and he says to no one in particular, “There’s no place for art in war.”

And so, even though L’Manburg is gone, even though everything is over and done with, Fundy knows it’s not. He knows the next war is waiting around the corner, and so he quietly stays prepared- his sword always on his hip, a bow strapped to his back, armour settled into his holding bag ready to be pulled on at a moment’s notice.

He doesn’t own a piano anymore.

Phil doesn’t speak to him for a long time, except when Fundy forces him to. He forgives Tubbo- tentatively so, with a lack of trust- long before he’s even willing to acknowledge him and Fundy are related, and even when they’re speaking again- awkward, stilted, not natural like before- Phil doesn’t ask about the scars on Fundy’s hands. He doesn’t ask if Fundy is eighteen or twenty now, though Fundy no longer knows himself.

His grandfather asks only once if Fundy has learned any new songs.

“I don’t play the piano anymore,” Fundy answers, short and more broken than he sounds. Phil doesn’t press for more, and Fundy goes home to silence once more.

Then the nightmares start, and the silence is even worse than before- because now he wakes up and never knows if he’s awake, the song in his soul having died out long ago. He remembers bits and pieces, forgets others, and he tries to run away. He pulls the TNT he has ready for the next inevitable war and rigs his home- big and empty and echoing loneliness- with as much as he can fit up the stairs, in the walls, on and under the floor. He takes only what he needs most and puts it into a wagon, pulls out an arrow and sets it alight-

His grandfather messages him. Wants to meet up. Fundy is in no state to walk on eggshells but he goes anyway, because he wants his family back, and learns his father is alive. They search for him but by the end Fundy is ready to give everything up. He leaves Phil, mind made up, and waits until he knows Phil is through the portal.

This time when he watches his home go up, it’s by his own hand.

He leaves and speaks to no one for months, but the nightmares stay. He finds a kit. He takes the kit in, considering briefly calling Phil to let him know he’s now a great grandfather, but he decides not to- Phil hasn’t reached out at all, no one has, even though his home is no more than a crater in the ground... again.

So he says nothing and focuses on being a father, now. His kit doesn’t like being indoors, running out to play in the woods whenever he wants, and Fundy learns to keep up and keep him safe. He builds a nest on the porch, under the awning, a nice, dry and warm place where his kit likes to curl up and sleep at night, white fur standing out against the reds and oranges of Fundy’s once-favourite blankets.

He names the kit Yogurt, after arguing with the foxes that like to hang around.

Between the nightmares and the crippling loneliness, with no one but a child too young to understand speech and a rowdy skulk of foxes who come and go as they please, Fundy finds himself.

He doesn’t remember much of the nightmares but he does remember one big, important thing.

Quackity can’t be trusted.

Quackity appears to him just as he had in the nightmare, and Fundy already knows their conversation as it happens. Knows every little thing as they walk across the remains of L’Manburg. He knows what the next war will be.

This time, Fundy decides, he will pull the strings. Early the next day, while his skulk is out who knows where and Yogurt is bundled up, safe at home, Fundy dons his armour and grabs his sword and axe, and he makes his way to the place he knows Las Nevadas to be.

He arrives and stands on the hill overlooking the beautiful, daunting city, and he watches Quackity disappear into the casino while below him a totem god looks around.

In those few seconds, when Fundy sees the harsh gleam in Foolish’s eyes, a new plan forms.

They speak briefly, over the dune and out of sight of the casino, and they come to an agreement. With no witnesses, they shake hands and Fundy goes back home, and Foolish does not tell Quackity of his visit.

Later, when Fundy finally joins Las Nevadas with his skulk a few steps behind, he mixes truth in with the lies and hopes the skulk will not out him.

To gain the trust of one who doesn’t trust, it takes someone who also doesn’t trust.

Yet Fundy, who at his heart and soul is a fox- a trickster- a spy- knows how to play the part of one who does. One who doesn’t know that he will always be left alone.

When Quackity asks him about his war experience, he answers truthfully- “I have been in every army and every war.”

He is a soldier to Quackity, first and foremost, and so when Quackity presents to him the piano inside the casino polished to perfection, he looks on it with silent discontent.

“I don’t play piano anymore.”

There is no place for art in war.

“Your hands are made to create, not destroy.”

Fundy looks up from the dagger he is playing with, seeing Foolish standing in front of him. Purpled is off to the side, on guard for Quackity and pretending he isn’t listening.

It isn’t the first time they’re meeting like this and it won’t be the last. Plans have to be made. Escape routes planned. Snowchester and Las Nevadas will tear each other- and themselves- apart long before Fundy and Foolish could ever put their plan into action. Playing nice and trying to keep everything from blowing up too early is getting exhausting, but it has to be done. After all, Fundy’s family is in the crossfire now- he silently curses Tubbo and Ranboo for building the mountain outpost, and he outwardly curses Tommy and Wilbur for making their ‘country’ right across the river.

“A lot of things are made to do what they’re not supposed to,” Fundy says to the god, putting the knife down. Tonight he has messaged Phil, pleading with him to stay away from Las Nevadas- but it has remained unread, and similar messages sent to Niki and Tommy and Ranboo are all the same. “What are you even talking about, anyway?”

“Tubbo said you used to play piano,” Foolish says, gaze drifting past Fundy to the piano left, abandoned, against the wall. “He asked me to put one in the mansion big enough so you guys could play together.”

“I haven’t played piano in a long fucking time,” Fundy scoffs, drumming his fingers anxiously against his legs. As much as he wants to... “But I guess Tubbo wouldn’t know that. We haven’t had a proper conversation since L’Manburg.”

Tubbo isn’t much like his uncle anymore. Tommy, neither. They don’t come around or check on him, they haven’t since long before L’Manburg fell. Tubbo feels more like... that neighbor kid you play with because there’s no other neighbor kids your age. They mess around and talk and joke when Quackity sends Fundy to investigate the outpost but it’s only because they don’t want to fight anymore. They don’t want to be on opposite sides, anymore.

Fundy can’t even tell him that they aren’t on opposite sides.

Ranboo says to choose people, and they all play the part easily enough, him and Tubbo and Fundy, but Fundy has always chosen people. He chose his family in the past, every time, regardless of what side they were on, until suddenly the family was split. What did sides matter, when it came to love, to friends, to family, to acceptance? How do you choose between the uncle who raised you and the grandfather who was there when you needed him?

Well, it no longer really matters.

This time he chooses Foolish and Purpled, the two who care about and accept him without question, whether he needs them or not.

Purpled, who respects that he doesn’t want salmon to be eaten even when he isn’t here. Purpled, who knows how it feels to be forgotten, who knows how it feels to have nothing to his name.

Foolish, who understands his need for symmetry. Foolish, who knows how it feels to want to leave the past behind, who knows how hard it is to feel worthy of forgiveness and redemption.

No, Fundy still loves his legal-and-blood family very much, but he supposes Foolish and Purpled have become the family he had always wanted to have.

Laughing and talking with them never feels forced, or awkward, or like walking on eggshells. He never feels like he is one misstep from being banished.

It’s nice.

“There’s no place for art in war,” Fundy finally says, filling the space growing between the trio they’ve formed.

They fall into silence, none of them trying to protest- none of them saying what they are in now is not a war. Maybe in another life this beautiful city that they’ve poured themselves into building up in order to build trust with the president could have been home, but in this life it was one thing alone-

The way to end the war, to stop Quackity in his tracks.

“After the war is over, will you play for us?” Purpled asks now.

And he will, though Fundy doesn’t know it yet. Once the war is over and the nuke has been dismantled, torn to pieces by its own creator’s hands, and Quackity and Fundy have both been reduced to one last life each, Fundy will sit at a piano at Foolish’s Summer Home, with the friends and family he has left- with Foolish and Purpled, Tubbo and Tommy and even Wilbur, with Techno and Phil and Niki and Ranboo, with Slime and Yogurt, every person he has ever loved and cared about and will one day save- and he will play a melody Tubbo taught him when he was a kit, still playing on a clumsy piano thrown together from scrapwood and busted strings in the living room of a house long since rotted and burned away.

For now, though, not knowing what the future has in store, Fundy only smiles and says, “There will always be another war.”

#Fundy #There are other characters but I won't tag them cuz it's very very very Fundy-centric #AU/canon-divergent #oneshot #Justa Writes #unedited #based off my idea that Fundy and Foolish are secretly working together out of view of their chats #and that Fundy remembers more of his nightmares than he lets on #also I threw in Yogurt as a shapeshifter/anthro fox just because I could sue me I'll win #I was watching Fundy's vod and he was playing the piano and that quote popped in my head #'your hands were made to create / not destroy'#and that line alone is what inspired this whole thing

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sarahjkl82-blog · 3 years

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Artistic Instinct- Chapter 4

Header thanks to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty

Summary: Marcus Pike and OC Anushka Pierce have been selected to work on a 5 eyes (Australia, Canada, NZ, the UK and US) intelligence team to track down art forgeries as a part of taking down an international white terrorism cell. Marcus is trying to escape his broken heart, Anushka is just trying to escape what the world expects of her.

Word count: 3,200

Warnings: Language.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader (OC)

This comes with a MASSIVE THANK YOU to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty , who read, re-read, pointed out the constant flipping between tenses and gave me the confidence to try to write something!This is the first thing I have written since angsty poetry as a teenager. Apologies if it is shit!

In art, there is neither past nor future. The art that is not in the present will never be.

Pablo Picasso

Chapter 4

What the fuck do people do when they wake up this early?

You have been ready for hours. Being in a hotel room is seriously cramping your options for what you could possibly manage to do without irritating other people in the rooms surrounding yours- with the obvious options of singing at the top of your lungs or dancing like a fool not available, you settle on messing around with your hair.

Now on your third hairstyle of the morning, having even taken the time to dry your hair from your shower (which in itself takes ages as you have roughly triple the thickness of a normal person’s hair), you attempt to plait your hair in a crown around your head. Whilst desperately trying to squeeze your eyes tight, trying to rid them of the sleep that had evaded you the previous night, you wonder how achy Marcus will be waking up this morning on the sofa and hope that he managed a more restful sleep than you, snug under the quilt. A small knock at the door comes and interrupts your daydream about that new boss of yours with the ridiculously soft brown eyes.

You arise from the bed, smoothing your shirt dress down over the generous curve of your hips. Giving your reflection a quick once over- no toothpaste, no major spots, no flappy bogies- you head towards the door. Opening it, there’s a sight for sore eyes- one besuited Marcus Pike bearing coffee-to-go cups and pastries from a boulangerie,a warm smile creasing his handsome features.

“Oh, I could get used to this! You realise that you’ve set a precedent now, and I shall expect it every morning at work?” The genuine delight in your exclamation, as you swing the hotel door wide open, earns a chuckle and an even wider grin from Marcus. “Want to come in?”

“Oh, I don’t wanna intrude. Enjoy your breakfast and I’ll see you in the lobby in half an hour?”

“I have a balcony that overlooks the square,” you gesture with a nod behind you. “Are you sure you don’t want to watch people go by?”

“Are you kidding me?! I was just making a mental note to ask Andy why he’d booked me a bigger bedroom but forget itt!” Marcus strides straight past you to the open French doors, letting out an impressed slow whistle as he takes in the view, “Wow!”

“How’s your neck?” You query with a raised eyebrow and a cheeky smirk as you blow the top of your coffee.

Marcus grins sheepishly at you, rubbing the moustache that graces his upper lip, “Sorry about last night. I think the jet lag is kicking my ass. Thank you for putting the comforter on me- that was a kind gesture. I appreciate it.”

“I might be socially awkward and clumsy as fuck,” you flash the rapidly disappearing burn mark on the back of your hand with a roll of your eyes, “but I am human, Marcus.”

Is it your imagination, or does his gaze linger on you as he replies, “That you most certainly are.”

✪✪✪✪✪

Despite Marcus wanting to get a cab to Interpol HQ, you convince him to take the twenty minute walk along the river. Lyon has the typical bustle of a city in the centre but along the river, a peace descends beside the tree-lined water’s edge. Your eyes follow the water flowing in the Rhône- swollen and swirling in swift torrents after recent heavy rain. As you and Marcus fall in an easy step with each other, you try to ignore the somersaults your tummy is doing and spot that something seems to be bothering him, playing on his mind.

You notice how he doesn’t quite know what to do with his hands- swapping between rubbing the skin of his left hand between his thumb and index finger, and shoving his hands in his trouser pockets. His brow keeps furrowing, not really noticing the archetypically French buildings or beautiful ironwork bridges surrounding him. What could he be nervous about?

“Do you want to go over the agenda for this morning?” you gently inquire, wondering if it was the meeting that was bothering him. Feeling slightly bemused that a short catch up between bureaus should really put any fear into a former FBI agent.

“Also, I have another question- why did you bring me?” you add after Marcus fails to answer instantly, “Everything is translated four ways at Interpol, so you didn’t really need me for the language side of things.”

“They asked for you,” Marcus shifts his focus from his hands to your face. With a soft breathy laugh and a tender smile, he adds, “You obviously made an impression when you were here before. I can see how you would.”

“Pah!” You snort, spraying coffee everywhere as Marcus jumps to try to avoid the droplets hitting his white shirt, “That doesn’t necessarily mean it’s a good one! Shit, I’m sorry- did I hit you?” You spin towards him to check his suit and shirt.

“No, you’re good,” Marcus mutters softly as he blinks hard trying to ignore his enjoyment of your fingertips gently touching his tummy, being reminded of that small kiss on his forehead the night before, “Obviously you’re just giving my reflexes a workout this morning. I’m starting to wonder if you should be trusted with coffee,” he teases.

“I question how anyone deems me enough of an adult to trust me with anything on a daily basis,” you respond drily. “By the way, what’s been bugging you this morning? You’ve been fidgeting with your hands since we started walking.”

You hear Marcus inhale deeply and turn to see him furrowing his brow, pausing as if he was questioning whether to say it or not. “Why didn’t you go for my role in our 5 Eyes team, Anushka? You’re a highly qualified, intelligent and perceptive woman, who has so many years of experience and yet, you joined our team as an operative.”

Shrugging your shoulders and pouting your lips as you try to focus on the tumultuous water, you offer, “Maybe it’s at the risk of me staining or burning my team with coffee?” you say, lifting your eyes to his face with a sly, crooked smile. “It might be counted as abuse and apparently, it’s not acceptable as a managerial technique to torture your staff?”

“Yeah,” Marcus rubs his nose as he smiles, “I see that we’re gonna have to run a health and safety audit around you and caffeine when we get back to London- it’s two for two now.”

“Not true! I managed the one you brought to my room this morning!” You widen your eyes in mock hurt, waggling your index finger at your accuser.

“Ah, so you need something to eat at the same time,” Marcus deduces teasingly. “Balance the hands out?”

“Yup - food is definitely the way to my heart - and perhaps saving your suits too.”

Even though the fear of going back to your old workplace was sitting in your stomach like week-old petrol station sushi, being around Marcus permits you to settle into a strange type of comfort. His kind, non-judgemental and easy nature allows you to feel the easiest and calmest you’ve felt in forever- making you feel both confident and slightly unsettled by his loveliness at the same time.

“I’ve been out of the field for a while.” The anxiety starts to rise in your chest as you try to make it sound like it’s nothing, swallowing those vicious emotions. “I have been teaching rookies for the past year and before that, I was put on administrative leave for eight months. Last…” you try to clear the lump forming in your throat, “Last Friday was in fact my last lecture so... It has been almost two years since I was properly in the loop.”

“I hope at some point, you feel that you can…” Marcus suddenly notices how your hands are balled into tight fists and your chest is taking shallower and shallower breaths. “Hey! Whoa, whoa,” He initially takes both of your hands in his but then folds your trembling, sobbing form into his chest, wrapping his arms around you.

“Put your hands on my chest and feel how it’s rising and falling. You are safe. This won’t last long,” he guides you through the fear and panic, “I won’t leave you. You are safe.”

You pull away from him suddenly, a desperate look emanating from your eyes as you gasp through the tears, “You really should. I don’t deserve your kindness.”

Marcus says nothing as he pulls you back into his solid, broad form, wrapping his comforting arms around you.

✪✪✪✪✪

After what felt like an hour, but was probably ten minutes, of Marcus talking you through breathing exercises gently and nonjudgmentally, never digging for further information, the rest of your journey towards Tête d’Or passes in relative silence.

Just the incessant hum of traffic, birds singing and the rush of water provide the soundtrack in the air, on which you try to focus your exhausted body and mind after that anxiety attack as you gain on Interpol’s Headquarters. It’s a sight that never ceases to amaze you- the centre that polices the world’s police forces with its monolithic concrete columns and mirrored glass exterior- both impressive and terrifying, with the ability to make any human introspective on being faced with their reflection in the reinforced glass exterior. The ridiculous juxtaposition of pretty flower displays decorating the entrance that would be better placed in the neighbouring park.

With three security checks including all the usual body scanners and metal detectors, you finally reach the other side and start in the direction of the allocated meeting room with Marcus at your heels. As you were heading towards the lifts to reach the correct floor, an unexpected warmth and pressure courses through your left shoulder. Looking towards it, you realise that he has put his hand there. He motions for you to come closer so you tilt your head towards him, allowing him an easy access to your ear. Speaking lowly so others cannot hear, Marcus leans towards you, so close that you can feel his warm breath upon your face, “There’s a bathroom over there. Do you want to go and freshen up before the meeting? We still have a while before go time.”.

Is there no end to his constant thoughtfulness? You nod numbly, still drained from the cortisol hit and head in the direction of the loo. Inside the utilitarian style of the bathroom, you sit down and rest your forehead in your hands- urgh, had they been this clammy when Marcus had held your hands? Feeling quite disgusted with your body’s natural reactions to the day’s anxieties, you get up from the toilet seat and head to the sinks where you flip the tap on full blast and dig in your bag for a tablet.

Your fingers all feel thumbs as they tremble from the adrenaline, looking for the beta blockers that would allow your heart to slow its pace so that you can stop feeling like you need to hide from that sabre-toothed tiger that preys upon your inner weaknesses. Finding one, you push it out of the blister pack and pop it on your tongue, afterwards, using your right hand to scoop a handful of cool water to swallow it with. If only you were here with me.Oh, how I wish you were here, Jas.

You enjoy the coolness on your face and take several deep breaths before deciding to rejoin the living. Walking out of the bathroom, Marcus spots you re-emerging and starts to cross the hallway to meet you halfway, extending a bottle of water out to you.

“Protecting your shirt?” You smile weakly, not quite catching his eye.

“Thought it would be safer all round,” Marcus generously articulates, and you chuckle at his thinly veiled, but amusing hint at your clumsiness.

You walk alongside Marcus as you head off in the direction of where you’ll be having the meeting through rabbit warren of corridors and floors. Every now and then, you feel a small sideways glance from him. It feels odd to have someone checking in on you with no ulterior motive. It almost feels quite nice.

“I know you won’t take me up on this, but, if you need an out, I can make up an excuse to cover for you,” he offers just as you reach the floor of the meeting.

“I won’t take you up on it but thank you, Marcus. Thank you for everything this morning,” you touch his arm by way of thanks, noticing the tint of rosiness being brought to his cheeks, “You’ve made what could’ve been an impossible morning much easier, thank you.”

« Nush! Ça va chérie? Il y a si longtemps que je n’ai pas vu ton beau visage. » Nush! How are you darling? It has been so long since I last saw your beautiful face!

A melodious voice rattles off as a rush of expensive perfume and a perfectly coiffed head suddenly wraps you in an embrace to “faire la bise”.

« Coucou Nush! » a deeper voice adds, «On a entendu que t’as presque quitté la force mais quand on a vu ton nom dans cette nouvelle équipe, je pense qu'on a tous crié de joie. » Hey Nush, we heard you almost left the force but when we saw your name in this new team, I think we all screamed with joy.

Pulling yourself back from the flurry of kisses, you look into the faces of Élodie and Jacques. It is as if no time has passed at all but there is very much a notable absence looming in the room.

« T’as crié de joie, j'ai organisé cette rencontre! » Élodie rolls her eyes, « On était tristes que tu ne puisses pas venir à notre journée de mariage mais on comprend complètement. » She uses the soft pads of her thumbs to wipe the hot tears that are falling silently down your face. « Est-ce que ce sont des larmes de joie ou de tristesse, ma petite? » You shouted with joy, I organised this meeting. We were sad that you couldn’t come to our wedding day but we completely understand. Are those tears of joy or sadness, my small.

« Tous les deux, » Both you sniffle, embarrassed at your emotions making such a clear display on your face again. What is he going to think of me?

“Sorry, excuse our rudeness, we should be speaking in English.” Jacques offers in Marcus’ direction.

Reaching blindly behind yourself, you go to pull Marcus’ arm forwards. In a clumsy twist of fate, your (now thankfully less clammy) left hand instead finds his. You notice that Marcus’ cheeks are as flushed as yours at the contact but neither of you remove your hands from the other’s. “This is Agent Marcus Pike, Agents Élodie and Jacques Panisse.”

Marcus offers his right hand to the French pair but Élodie brushes it away, instead diving in to kiss his left, then right cheek, “No, no, no! When in France, we kiss - especially an acquaintance or perhaps, friend, of Nush’s!”

“Are you sure it’s not just because he’s so handsome?” Jacques teases his wife.

“Smells as good as he looks, too - I’m impressed. London is hiring well,” she winks at her husband as Marcus squirms a little uncomfortably under Élodie’s brilliant spotlight, releasing a light chuckle, “So even though I can only dream of working on the team, can we try to keep each other in the loop as we keep turning up dead ends in regards to this case too? We may not be deemed as party to 5 Eyes level of information but we can offer our own francophone twist, non?”

“While you are here, do you have time for a short road trip?” Jacques asks you, ignoring his wife’s incessant flirting and trying to sweeten the deal, “Something that might pique your interest turned up in an auction house just outside of Grenoble this morning. A Soutine, possibly one of his series from the Carcass of Beef, arrived yesterday afternoon. They rang and asked if we could take a sneak peek to check that it is not a forgery.”

You tilt your head to catch Marcus’ eyes, “What do you think, boss? Flight isn’t until tomorrow morning and it’s only an hour and a half there.”

“No harm in having a look,” Marcus agrees, “But we haven’t organised any car rentals.”

“Ah Marcus, we have had a people carrier since a little one joined us just over a year ago. Go back to your hotel after the meeting and get changed into something that you don’t mind getting sticky or muddy from the backseat, and you and Nush can jump in with us.” Élodie runs a finger over the lapel of Marcus’ suit jacket as she speaks.

« Laisse t’il tranquille, hein? T’as les mains baladeuses! » Leave him alone, eh? You have wandering hands! Jacques rolls his eyes as he removes her from reaching distance of poor Marcus as you try uselessly to smother a giggle, “Marcus, I apologise for my wife and her inappropriacy around attractive men. Shall we pick you both up from your hotel around noon? Gives you time to change into something more comfortable and we can gather some materials to check the piece?”

“Great! We’ll see you then.” Marcus straightens up, grinning as he responds to Jacques.

As Élodie and Jacques seat themselves at the conference table, chattering between themselves in swift, teasing French, you gaze towards their shared tenderness. Marcus turns in your direction and tentatively reaches out for your arm, “How are you doing? You’re still a little grey- are you sure you don’t want to go back and just rest?”

“No,” you shake your head gently with a small smile gracing your lips, “Just a visit from a ghost of what might have been.”

✪✪✪✪✪

The conference room quickly fills with a mixture of faces- some well known, others new. Flurries of kisses, squeezes on your shoulder and small rubs on your back from the old colleagues, whilst the newer people stood back to read the situation. When you notice Marcus slipping back with the unknowns, you pull him back towards you- highly unsure whether you were doing it to show that he was, in fact, your superior or if it was just a case of needing the safety and comfort he offers you by standing in close proximity.

An older gentleman with a lifetime of experience etched into the lines on his face, wearing a plaid jacket with leather patches sewn into the elbows and a silk cravat tucked into his shirt, walks silently into the room allowing those present to part like the Red Sea. He walks directly to you, kissing you on your forehead.

«Ma fille. Tu nous as manqué,» My girl. We missed you. he lowly rumbled as he placed both hands on your cheeks, tilting your chin up towards him, «Ne t'inquiète pas, je ne le mentionnerai pas.» Don’t worry, I won’t mention him.

“Let us get started everyone,” he begins, switching into English as he commands everyone’s attention and gesturing towards the table, Pierre St-Vincent introduces himself and takes the head of the table. “Today, we will be looking at several recent world-wide cases of fraudulent art pieces and the links that they have to organised crime syndicates across the world.”

“When you report your findings, please introduce which agency you are representing.”

Marcus is the first to speak in his gloriously treacly baritone, sitting back in his chair causing it to creak slightly, “Good morning all - Agent Marcus Pike, formerly of the FBI art fraud department, now heading up a 5 Eyes working party, investigating forgeries and the links we have found to exist with white terrorism.”

You notice his eyes shift in your direction and a slight curling up of the corner of his lips, “Judging by the greetings you gave her, I think the majority of you know Agent Pierce, who is seated to my right, and you will understand the reason I will get her to fill you all in on our findings so far.”

A small, kind chuckle fills the air. “Entirely understood, Agent Pike,” Pierre has a gentle half-smile on his face, “Agent Pierce, on behalf of everyone in this room, it is a pleasure to welcome you back. You have been missed in these corridors.”

“Thank you, Sir,” inhaling deeply, you look down the table. So many pairs of eyes are upon you, awaiting your next comment.

Clearing your throat slightly, your mouth turns up in a slight smile as your eyebrow arches and your back straightens,

“If you could all turn your attention to the statistics in front of you…”

As you continue to speak eloquently, entrancing and captivating the room, you don’t notice the mixture of pride and adoration on Marcus’s face and how Pierre catches him with a slight nod of the head and a smile - the two gentlemen in total agreement.

My beautiful taglist: @astroboots @silverwolf319 @lunaserenade @danniburgh @leonieb @mrsparknuts @sirowsky @mouthymandalorian @the-ginger-hedge-witch @lv7867 @songsformonkeys

If you’d like to be added or dropped from the tag list or have any thoughts, thots or suggestions, please do get in touch! I don’t bite hard 🥰

#pedro pascal #josé pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal#jose pedro balmaceda pascal #the mentalist #ppascaledit #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader

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sweethq · 4 years

Text

♡ Maniac // song scenario

𑁍 Characters: Oikawa Tōru, mentions of Iwaizumi Hajime

»»—Trigger warning(s): mild swearing, bullying, mentions of a car accident and death (kinda?)—-««

➶ Genre: angstttttt, timeskip!AU

✎ Word count: 5.5k

-ˏˋ A/N: Hello!! I’m so excited to share this piece of work with you all. This is my first attempt at writing a song scenario so please bear with me! This is also the first long-ish scenario that I am posting on this account which is super exciting!! I hope you all enjoy and I hope to keep posting content that you guys will like ^^ Also, I feel bad for making Oikawa look like a complete and utter jerk lol buuuuut you gotta do what you gotta do. Remember, this is all fiction and is all in good fun!ˊˎ-

Tōru has been acting weird the past few weeks, weirder than one should to their s/o after dating for nine months. The once loving, carefree boy that made your heart race seemed to disappear within a matter of seconds. You remembered the times walking in the city together. He would intertwine his fingers with yours, rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand while giving you a soft smile. Day trips out into the city are now rare, and when they do occur, the only physical contact is your arms grazing against each other which fades much too quickly.

You would visit his favorite bakery once every two weeks, ordering the same pastry every time: a strawberry iced doughnut. The first time you went there together, on your third date, your first bite ended with you smearing the icing on the corners of your mouth. Tōru chuckled, muttering a quiet “Clumsy,” before leaning over the table to wipe it off for you. You felt your heart clench in your chest, heat making its way up your neck and to your ears. Since then, you made it a point to order the same doughnut each time in hopes that Tōru would once again slide his finger over the corner of your mouth; and he did. Last week was the first time in nearly nine months that he didn’t, leaving an unsettling feeling in your stomach. These types of things were very routine in your relationship, so when they came to a sudden halt, you couldn’t help but feel curious and anxious at the same time. When the two of you are out together, it feels like he’s not even there. He doesn’t give the same warm smile, tell stupid jokes, or even give you a second glance. It just feels… distant.

You tried to approach him about it, knowing that there were too many things that were suddenly changing. “Do you not love me anymore?” “Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?” “Is there someone else?” Tōru felt guilty. Guilty that he would give you any reason to believe that he was being unfaithful.

“I’m sorry I’ve been making you feel this way, I never meant to hurt you. I’ll do better, I promise,” he stated before walking closer to you. He raised his hand to softly caress your cheek, deeply staring into your eyes with an emotion you couldn’t quite put your finger on. He placed a lingering kiss on your lips before pulling away and placing another on your forehead.

“I have to go, I promised Iwa-chan that I would go to his place to hang with him and the other guys. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” You gave a small smile and a nod, him returning the favor with another kiss on the forehead before walking out the door. You couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t give an answer to any of the questions you asked.

----------

A few hours have passed since Tōru left, and you can’t stop thinking about the unanswered questions from earlier. You went back and forth between pacing the room, sitting with your knees pulled against your chest, and laying on the floor; hoping that one of these things would help your brain think of a possible explanation. After hours of thinking, you notice his jacket resting on the back of one of your dining room chairs. Your eyes light up, knowing this would be a reasonable excuse to visit your boyfriend at Iwaizumi’s place.

The walk was short, but gave you enough time to think about what you would say when you saw Tōru, not quite sure why you feel the need to think of a script to talk to him. You stand outside Iwaizumi’s door, breathing a sigh of relief as you hear your boyfriend’s loud voice through the wall that separates you two. As you bring your hand up to knock, you suddenly hear your name be said by a female voice, making you freeze in your place. You can’t help but let your curiosity get the better of you. You slowly inch closer to the door and press your ear against it, hoping to not make any unwanted noises.

“Didn’t you say you only asked them out because you pitied them?”

“Yeah, I just felt bad for them. They would always follow me around and tell me how much they love me. I thought it would be fun to play a little game.” You can tell that Tōru’s words were laced with alcohol. The girls inside the room let out little giggles, one commenting, “What a freak.”

The longer you stand with your ear against the door, the more pain you feel in your heart.

“When are you finally going to ditch them? Aren’t you tired of sticking around someone you don’t even like?” There is a long pause after these questions are asked. I’ll never leave them. I love them too much. You hoped he would say something of that sort, but once again was met with disappointment.

“Well I thought that the longer I stay with them, the more fun it will be to end things. You know, it’ll hurt more, I guess…” His words are a little hesitant, voice getting smaller the further into the sentence he got.

“Who knows, maybe they’ll die from a broken heart.” The voice doesn’t belong to Tōru, but the laugh that follows after does. So many emotions are flooding through your brain and your heart, and you’re not sure how to comprehend them all.

You clutch his jacket in your fist, knuckles quick to turn white. Unwelcome tears pool in your eyes as your hands begin to shake. You silently pray that this was all a horrible dream and you didn’t actually hear those words escape his mouth, but know deep down that this is all too real. Quiet sobs left your mouth as you bend down into a squat, legs almost giving out under you. You can’t help but think back to your time with Tōru, all the memories you made together. Was it all a lie? All of the late night walks, the picnics by the river, the little inside jokes, the love… was it all a part of a game?

The sound of a door opening interrupts your thoughts.

You slowly lift your head up to meet the eyes of your boyfriend. You can sense the panic in his face, not sure how long you have been there or how much you heard. The tears streaming down your face tell him that you heard everything. He takes a slight step towards you, reaching out for your hand.

“Y/N, wait-”

You throw his jacket at him before running off the porch and down the street, wanting to be anywhere but in front of the boy who just tore your heart into pieces. You hear him shouting behind you. This is just a misunderstanding. Let me explain. What is there to misunderstand? You gave your heart to someone who promised to take care of it as if it were his own, and you’re now facing the consequences because of it.

You run all the way back to your home, ignoring the burning sensation in your calves. You slam the door behind you and lock it, not wanting any uninvited guests (Tōru). You stand in your empty house, eyes now dry from the cold wind that blew in your face on the run home. Everywhere you look you see him. All of the space between these walls has touched him and will hold him in its memory.

You walk to the kitchen, letting your fingertips graze the shiny countertop, smiling when thinking about the mess you two would always make while baking.

Snickerdoodles were always a must when the holidays came around. You were determined to bake the best snickerdoodles known to man when Tōru told you he had never tasted the heavenly treat. You prepared the ingredients on the counter, humming a soft tune to fill the silence in the room. Tōru stood beside you, admiring the calm look on your face and how delicate you looked. He approached you from behind, snaking his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. He always found it fascinating to watch you bake since everything he would put in an oven would somehow instantly catch on fire. He started to slowly bring his hands back to place them on your hips then run them up your sides. You weren’t quite sure what he was doing, but let him continue anyways. After drawing little circles over your ribs, he started to tickle you, knowing that you would give him a reaction. You yelped, arms flailing without your consent, knocking over the open bottle of cream into the bowl where the dough was, ruining the cookies that were nearly ready to go into the oven. You gasped before quickly picking up the overturned carton, staring at the masterpiece that quickly turned into a disaster. You huffed and turned to look at your boyfriend who had an apologetic smirk on his face. How can someone express those two emotions at the same time? You stared at him for a second, trying to find the words to voice your frustration. You decided that instead of telling him how you felt, you would show him. You reached behind you and grabbed an egg off the counter, rubbing your thumb against its smooth shell before smashing it in Tōru’s perfectly styled hair, wiping the smirk right off of his face. You couldn’t hold in your laughs as the yolk dripped down his forehead and in between his chocolate eyes. The shock on his face didn’t last for long. He was quick to grab another egg and return the favor, this time topping it off with a handful of flour. Now the kitchen was covered with various ingredients flung in different directions and a couple of idiots that were even messier than the kitchen itself. As the sun was beginning to set, you ran out of items to throw at each other. You stared at him, chuckling at the mess you had made of each other. Even looking at him with egg in his hair and flour covering his complexion, he was still the most beautiful person to you. The sun’s rays beamed through the window making Tōru’s eyes look like pools of honey, sucking you into them deeper and deeper. You brought your hand up to his face and softly caressed his cheek, admiring every inch of his beauty.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” A coy grin on his face after he noticed you staring at him, a hint of pink on the tip of his ears. To his surprise, you pulled out your phone and took a picture of him just like he told you to, reminding yourself to make it his new contact picture later. He chuckled slightly, muttering a soft, “Idiot,” before putting his hand on the back of your neck and closing the space between the two of you. His lips tasted like cinnamon and sugar with a hint of vanilla. After the sweet kiss, you pulled away, making sure to keep your foreheads connected so you could just appreciate being with him in his arms.

You smile at the memory that is all too vivid in your mind. You walk into the living room and glance at the pictures that scatter the walls. You approach Tōru’s favorite picture of the two of you, one that you initially hated but grew to love over time.

It was the 18th of December when Tōru dragged you out of the house for your ‘special Christmas surprise’. You questioned him on why it couldn’t wait until Christmas day but he insisted that it had to be today. When you sat in the passenger seat of his car, he turned to you and held out a blindfold for you to take.

“There’s no way in hell that I’m putting that thing on,” you said, staring him dead in the eyes.

“Come on Y/N-channnn! Just this once, I promise. If you do it, I’ll buy you boba on the way home.” His words were so convincing. You were quick to grab the blindfold out of his hand, grumbling a quiet, “Fine,” as you tied it so it was blocking your vision.

The car ride felt like it took a lifetime and then some, but in reality took no longer than ten minutes. Tōru instructed you to keep the blindfold on and wait for him to come on your side of the car to help you out. You let out a loud sigh, not exactly sure why you still couldn’t take the piece of fabric off. He wrapped his arm around your waist and guided you to your final location, making sure to point out any steps or dips in the ground that were approaching. After a short minute walk, you were met with adults chattering and a mixture of children screaming in excitement and crying in fear. You concluded that you were definitely in a very public place, but had absolutely no idea where your lunatic of a boyfriend brought you. After standing around for a couple of minutes and you groaning about how bored you were, you heard an unknown voice shout, “Next!” which made Tōru take a few steps forward, you still in his hold, sightless.

“Okay baby. You can take your blindfold off now!” His voice was covered in excitement, which made you even more anxious to take the piece of cloth off. A smile crept onto your face but when the blindfold came off, so did your smile. You stared straight ahead at the surprise that Tōru had in store for you before turning to face him, a shit-eating grin on his face. You could see tears in his eyes from trying to hold in his laughter.

“Tōru…… What is this.”

“It’s….. It’s Santa Clause.”

“Yeah, but W H Y ?”

He didn’t give you a reply, but instead grabbed your wrist and dragged you to stand in front of the man of the hour. You forced a smile on your face, not wanting to seem rude.

“Hi Santa! My s/o over here really loves and admires you and would appreciate taking a picture sitting on your lap. Is that okay?” His words came out sweet, but they were covered in venom. This was probably payback for the time you ‘accidentally’ spilled your drink on his crotch when you went hiking and proceeded to tell people passing by that he just sweats a lot.

“Of course! Anything for this cutie,” Santa said in a voice used to speak to babies, pinching your cheek in the process. You kinda stood there, not quite sure what to do. You definitely did NOT want to sit on his lap, but at the same time, you were too nice to just walk out of there. Tōru could see your hesitance and decided to give you a little *shove* in the right direction (A/N: please know that y/n is not uncomfortable in this situation, but rather just finds the act embarrassing. Tōru would not make them do this if he knew that they would be uncomfortable). Once you found a spot on Santa’s right knee, you told the person behind the camera to quickly take the photo. You noticed Tōru standing on the other side of Santa’s chair holding a peace sign and smiling from ear to ear. You stare at him with pure anger, wanting to wipe that stupid smile off his face. You didn’t even realize that the photo had already been taken. Tōru ended up printing dozens of copies of this photo, making sure to give it to each of your friends and family on Christmas day.

You look at the photo of the two of you, well, actually the three of you. You seem so angry in the picture, but you know that behind all of that anger, you still were stupidly in love with him. You laugh at how it’s ironic to the situation you’re in. You’re mad. More than mad, furious. Furious that you have all of these memories together and all you can think about is how they are full of lies. Furious that even though he hurt you and will continue to hurt you, you still love that tall idiot.

There’s a knock at the door.

“Y/N… Please open the door. I need to see your face.” You don’t move a muscle, your eyes still locked on that photo.

Another knock. Two. Three.

“Please… You need to hear me out.”

More knocking.

You glance at the door, knowing what awaits you on the other side. The sound of knocking engulfs your house, it’s driving you mad. You breathe out a heavy sigh before storming towards the door and swinging it open.

“What,” you spit at him, trying to ignore the empathy that you feel at the sight of his red eyes and swollen lips. He just stares at you, almost like he was trying to tell if you were real or not. You started to close the door, seeing as you were just wasting time. His hand stops the door before it could shut. You open it again, wide enough for him to be back in your line of sight. He looks down at his intertwined hands that hold a single red rose before looking back up at you and extending his arms.

“I-i got this for you on my way here. I know you like daisies more, but I couldn’t find any so I thought this would be okay.” His voice was quiet and strained, like if he spoke up a little more he would break. He tries to keep a small smile on his face, but when you let a laugh escape your lips, he instantly frowns. You stop laughing.

“Why are you here, Oikawa?”

----------

You were with your friends partying

When the alcohol kicked in, said you wanted me dead

So, you showed up at my home, all alone

With a shovel and a rose

Do you think I’m a joke?

----------

Oikawa winces when his last name falls off your lips. He always loved it when you called him Tōru, and you knew that. But this wasn’t Tōru, not the one that you fell in love with. This wasn’t the same guy that would play with your hair when you laid your head in his lap, or kissed your fingertips when you’d accidentally burn them. No. This is someone different. Someone you feel you don’t even know.

“I’m.. I’m so sorry, Y/N! I never meant to hurt you. God, I’m such an idiot… I don’t even know how to explain myse-”

“Just answer me this. Did you ever love me? Or were these past nine months a complete lie?” You hold your breath, hoping the tears will stop threatening to fall. You were hesitant to ask these questions, knowing that the answer could crush you, but you needed to know. Oikawa’s eyes grew, tears cascading down his flushed cheeks.

“Of course I loved you! I still do, so, so much! These past nine months have been the best months of my entire life, none of it was fake, I promise. You’re the love of my life, Y/N. I can’t fake something like that…” Oikawa’s eyes were burning holes into yours, you started to wonder the last time he blinked. His words were convincing, but the words he said earlier this night kept playing on repeat in your head.

“Bullshit. If you love me so much, why would you say those things about me? Why would you tell them that I was some crazy stalker who was obsessed with you? Why would you tell them that you’re dating me as a joke? Why did you say all of these things that you knew would hurt me?” A single tear falls, causing the others to join. Oikawa takes a step forward, wanting to kiss your tears and pain away. You simultaneously take a step back, finally breaking the eye contact that bound the two of you together. His heart broke at the sight of you. Not only were you hurting, but you were hurting because of him.

“I-I just… Just… I-”

“You just what?”

He continues to stare at you, wondering whether or not he should even attempt to explain himself. His sober mind knows that his actions are the result of narcissism and stupidity, and there’s a chance that his lame excuse could hurt you even more.

“Most of the people that I was with tonight, I don’t usually hang out with. Recently Iwa-chan has been inviting them to hang out because they’re always pestering us and we thought if we hung out with them a few times, they would stop. So we invited them to hang out, have a few drinks, and show them how boring we are,” he stopped to take a breath, hesitant to move on. “I guess they knew that I was dating you and, for whatever reason, didn’t like that. They would make fun of me and say mean things and… it reminded me of my childhood when I used to get bullied and was an outcast. I guess it really traumatized me because when that feeling came back, I wanted nothing more than to make it disappear. I guess the alcohol made that decision for me and that’s when I started saying all of those horrible things and… I guess I didn’t think it was going to affect our relationship because I didn’t think you would ever find out… I know I’m such an asshole, but please you need to know that none of the things I told them were true. My love for you is completely and utterly real, and the fact that I screwed it up is killing me.”

You remain silent, once again staring into Oikawa’s eyes, reading him like a book. His eyes shine like glass, full of guilt and sorrow. His bottom lip is red from biting it, hoping to make it stop quivering. His interlocked hands are still holding the rose he brought you, his thumbs anxiously fiddling with each other. You can tell that he genuinely feels sorry and ashamed of his mistakes.

“Y/N. Please, say something. Anything.”

Unfortunately for him, there was no longer room in your heart for forgiveness.

“So I guess you’ve been telling them these kinds of things for a while now, huh? I guess that explains why you stopped acting like we’re a couple in public, right? You didn’t want one of your new friends to see us and question your motives.” You give a small laugh, not sure if it’s out of self-pity or anger. “You should go back to Iwaizumi’s. I’m sure they’re all wondering where you went and why you ran after your psychotic s/o who you don’t even like… Just keep telling them the same story, or better yet, why don’t you tell them that you broke my heart, threw it in my face, and then laughed at me? I’m sure you’ll earn some extra brownie points from them.” You look at his eyes one last time before turning around to walk back inside, pausing before shutting the door. “I’ll stop by your place tomorrow to pick up my things.”

Before you could close the door, Oikawa pleaded.

“Please don’t leave me. Please. I need you in my life.”

You pause at the shakiness in his voice, so close to caving in and forgetting all of the events that occurred tonight. Before you can make any impulsive decisions, you shut the door in his face, not wanting to think about how he’s feeling or what he’s going to do. You try to ignore any type of empathy you feel for him, he’s the one that hurt you, remember?

----------

Well, people like you always want back what they can’t have

But I’m past that, and you know that

So you should turn back to your rat pack, telling ‘em trash

----------

You lay on the sofa holding a picture of Oikawa in your lap, not attempting to move from your spot for the hour since Oikawa left. You hate that after all of the things he said about you, you still couldn’t stop thinking about him and how much you wish he were right next to you. You wish that he were holding you close and wiping the stray tears that leave your eyes, but instead, he was the one inflicting them. The white ceiling above you keeps your attention, becoming the screen as your memories become the projector. You can almost visualize all of the times you spent with Oikawa, even the times before you started dating. You wish you could go back to the simpler times, the times when things weren’t turning to shit.

Your phone rings beside you. You remember in the beginning of your relationship with Oikawa your heart would always race when you got a phone call or message, hoping that it was him on the other side. Even at a time like this, your mind can’t help but think of those chocolate eyes and soft brown locks. You pick up your phone and stare at the caller ID. It’s Oikawa.

You fight with yourself, deciding whether or not it would be smart to answer his call. You click ‘accept’ before you have a chance to back out again.

The call is silent with the exception of sniffles on the other end. Oikawa breaks the silence.

“Y/N? A-are you there?”

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m here. Why are you calling?”

“I just really, really wanted to hear your voice.” You hear the rev of a car engine through the phone.

“You shouldn’t be talking on the phone while you’re driving. It’s dangerous.”

“But talking to you makes me feel so safe.” Silence engulfed the phone call, neither of you knowing what to say to each other. Oikawa starts to cry, his sobs soon becoming the only thing you can hear. You continue to not say a word.

“God, I’m so stupid. I thought I was finally getting my life together. I’m in good health, I have my dream job, I met the person I want to spend the rest of my life with, and I had to go and fuck it all up. Honestly I don’t give a shit about my health or my job, all I care about is you. I just love you so much, I can’t-” His words are cut off by a long screech and then a loud crash. Once again, the call is silent.

“O-oikawa?” There’s no reply. “Oikawa?! Tōru?! Are you okay? Please answer me?” Your breathing was becoming erratic, shaky fingers having a hard time keeping the phone pressed against your cheek. You hear a groan and shuffling from the other side before getting a response.

“Shit. I crashed my damn car into a tree.”

“I don’t care about the car, are you okay? I need to call an ambulance for you-”

“No,” he interrupts you, “I don’t want to see any paramedics. The only person I want to see is you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you need to go to the hospital. You probably have a concussion, and you’re bleeding, aren’t you?”

“I don’t care. I won’t see anyone but you.” Oikawa takes a deep breath before getting out of his wrecked car. He starts his walk back home, not caring to wait for first responders. “I’m not going to beg you to come, but if you want to see me, you know where to find me.” He hangs up the phone, leaving you speechless on the other end.

You don’t want to waste another second. You quickly grab your car keys and toss your jacket over your shoulder. Even though you know it’s going to hurt you to see him again, you need to make sure he’s okay.

----------

You just went too far

Wrecked your car, called me crying in the dark

Now you’re breakin’ my heart

So I show up at your place right away

Wipe the tears off of your face

While you beg me to stay

----------

It’s stupid. Stupid that you’ll drop everything you’re doing to rush to his side whenever he says he needs you. Stupid that you still love and care about him just as much as you did in the beginning.

You turn the engine off upon arriving at Oikawa’s apartment. You swiftly get out of your car and race to his door, taking the stairs instead of the elevator to save a few seconds. You fiddle with the keys on your keychain as you reach his front door, trying to find the matching one. You knew all too well that one of Oikawa’s antics is always locking the door, even when he’s expecting company. You find the fitting key and waste no time unlocking the door and scouting the place for any sign of life. You figure he’s in his bedroom as the kitchen and living room remain vacant.

You peek around the corner that leads into his room, spotting the tall man laying on the bed, legs dangling over the edge.You gasp at the blood, cuts and scrapes coving his skin. You walk over to him and grab his cold hand, pulling him off the bed and into the bathroom.

“Sit,” you order, pointing at the counter. He obeys without a word, head hanging low. You search the cabinets for a first aid kit, knowing that he would have one from his volleyball days. After finding the small box, you pull out the materials that were needed to clean him up; lots of antibacterial wipes, gauze and band-aids. You take one of the wipes and press it onto a cut on his shin, Oikawa hissing at the impact. You ignore it and continue to clean the scrapes that scatter both of his legs, finishing with a deeper cut on his knee. As you finished cleaning it, you heard him sniffle and watched a tear fall into his lap.

“What are you, five? It doesn’t hurt that much-”

“I didn’t think you would come,” he whispered, voice shaky and emotionless. You peer up at him, his head still hanging and refusing to meet your eyes. You reach your hand up and wipe the tears that wet his face, your palm lingering, cupping his cheek. He melted into your touch.

“Idiot… Of course I would come.”

You spend the rest of the time patching up his wounds in silence, neither of you able to find the correct words in this situation. You finish putting the last band-aid on his cheekbone, your face in shocking proximity to his. He stares into your eyes, you looking anywhere but. You’re afraid that if you look into his eyes, there’s no turning back.

“I should go,” you mutter, not wanting to overstay your visit. You turn around to walk out of the bathroom, but come to a halt with the feeling of Oikawa’s slender fingers wrapping around your wrist.

“Please don’t leave me.” His grip tightened slightly, but not enough to hurt you. “I need you. Please.”

You stare straight ahead, not daring to turn around and face him.

“I’ll stay,” you start, “If you promise to give up your pride and tell everyone that you were lying. Tell them that you really do love me and that you were scared of what others would think. I’ll stay if you promise never to lie about those kinds of things and to never hurt me like you have ever again. Can you do that?” The silence was eerie, and made your stomach do hundreds of flips. You hoped that the universe would be on your side for once and hear the things you wished would escape his lips.

“I-I can’t… I just-”

You grabbed his wrist with your vacant hand and violently removed his grasp from yours, not letting him finish his sentence. You still stood with your back towards him, not wanting him to see the tears that were once again trickling down your face. You pull your keychain out of your pocket, finding your key to Oikawa’s apartment and stripping it from the rest. You drop it onto the floor by your feet, clanging a few times on the hardwood floor before it stops. As you walk out of the bathroom, your words make his heart clench in his chest.

“Goodbye, Oikawa.”

----------

Tell all of your friends that I’m crazy and drive you mad

That I’m such a stalker, a watcher, a psychopath

Then tell them you hate me, and dated me just for laughs

So why do you call me and tell me you want me back?

You maniac

#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu!!#hq #haikyuu social media #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu writers #oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader #haikyuu angst #oikawa angst

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nutty1005 · 3 years

Text

Marvelous City – Chongqing Special

Video Link: https://v.youku.com/v_show/id_XNTA2NzMzODYxNg==.html

Translator’s Note: This is translated off the Marvelous City - Chongqing Special Episode. I wrote it in an article form because of video copyrights issues. This documentary was filmed early 2020, but only aired recently. Xiao Zhan’s episode aired on 12 Jan, this special episode aired on 17 Jan.

Q: What difference do you feel returning to Chongqing this time round?

A: Actually for all my years, I’ve never seriously experienced Chongqing like this. Because when you’re living within it, you will not jump to an outsider’s point of view and deliberately observe places, scenery and food. I grew up with Chongqing and it’s melded within me, hence this time I came back, including the air raid shelters, the local delicacies, or the Xiao Mian, I have a new understanding and knowledge of them. The feeling in my heart is different as well.

Q: What are your biggest takeaway from this visit?

A: As a Chongqinger who has grown up and lived twenty odd years in Chongqing, I realized my understanding of the air raids shelters, I originally thought they were just shelters. But after my discussion with Mr. Xiang, I discovered that there were many stories regarding them. Yesterday, he spoke of an example, an elder he interviewed, and that elder told him that during those years, once there was an alarm, he was actually secretly happy. He would watch for the shelter the lady he liked ran into, and he would follow that lady to that shelter. So you see, it’s that sort of finding joy in their chaotic lives. I feel that that is, very accurately, the description of Chongqingers’ optimism. But actually, it’s easy to say that we would feel like that – since we have to live every day, living a day happily versus living a day miserably, why should we not live happily. But few are able to do that, moreover in such a chaotic environment. So when he told me those stories yesterday, I felt especially touched. I was quite moved, actually.

Q: How was the experience when you previously rode the light rail?

A: The line for Niujiaotuo was especially interesting. To walk from Rail Line 3 to Rail Line 2, it took 15 minutes. If the person in front of you walked especially slowly, plus everyone was going to work in the morning, it’s just shoulder to shoulder crowded. Basically, even if you wanted to run, you couldn’t, you could only push your way through and then run forward. That period was especially weird. I was thinking, why weren’t these ladies and gentlemen in a hurry, then I’d be “excuse me excuse me”, push through them and run forward, then start queuing.

Rail Line 2 would come, because it was suspended between bridges, when the glass door opens you’d have to squeeze your way in, and there would be some situations, like some people with their bags stuck outside, their slipper stuck outside, and then all kinds of stuff, sometimes even their breakfast would be stuck outside. Then there’s like burst soy bean drinks, there’s a lot of situations like this, and actually below Rail Line 2, there was a huge safety net. The net was there because they were afraid of falling objects from great heights, and these might fall and hit someone below. So sometimes, well sometimes in the summer, I would see that there’s some ridiculous things piling on the net, someone’s slipper, belt, bag or umbrella, etc. I don’t know if it’s still there, I guess they would clean it regularly. But I felt that this was especially funny, funny and sad at the same time. I mean who would want to squeeze with people early in the morning, you’d be squeezed half dead, everyone would be angry, and you’d argue in the morning.

But you couldn’t help it, it’s for livelihood, hence that time when I saw that there were many reports saying “it’s so tough, this year is so tough on me”, but then I also felt that actually everyone had it tough. I feel that everyone is moving forward while trying to live, actually we’re like a battalion, and we are all being pushed forward by our lives. We’re already at 2020 and every single day before was tough, it’s all tough, so I feel that we just have to manage and adjust. I feel that our attitudes need to be managed well.

I remember that time, I was squeezed so badly that I was plastered onto the glass door. That glass door, I was literally stuck onto it, and then when I looked down at the Jialing River, because the Rail Line 2 was suspended over it, I just looked at the Jialing River below and thought, actually that scenery was rather pretty. So, I’d just watch the scenery, and when you start to carefully observe, you would feel that it’s actually quite beautiful. In the mornings, there would be elders swimming in the winter, and then there’d be some reefs, because I recall that it’d be dry season during the winter, the water levels would go down and hence the waters would also become somewhat clearer. Jialing River, with those oddly shaped reefs, and then there was all kinds of people fishing, jogging alongside. What also attracted me was the windows, they looked like film, frame by frame, and the windows on the light rail were also frame by frame. And then after night falls, because the light rail was built along the river, the night view by the river, those lights and those skyscrapers would be varicolored, just like a movie.

Q: What do you like about Chongqing?

A: I like its summer and I also like its winter. There’s two sensations, the summer’s passionate like fire, whereas the winter, and you’d feel that the chill seeps into your bones, just you’d feel hurt magically. Hotpot, Xiao Mian, spicy diced chicken, peppercorn chicken, there’s too many of them, I love them all. Double-cooked pork… I feel that these food are something engraved in your bones since childhood. When you mention those food, your mouth instinctively salivates. I already have the taste of peppercorn chicken in my mouth, it’s strange, but I haven’t had peppercorn chicken for a very long time, but now I am just… *swallows saliva*

Q: What is the Chongqing delicacy of your heart?

A: There’s no need to say. I used to go to this noodle stall in the past. It didn’t have a name, it’s just an aunty, and that aunty is especially nice. Because every time I went there I would tell her, aunty, for example I wanted to eat wontons, we call them Chao Shou, I’d say, “Aunty I want less wontons more vegetables”, and then the aunty would put in a lot of vegetables, but she didn’t really remove that many wontons. Every time I went there I don’t have to give her my order, I’d say “the same old”, and she’d know exactly what to make, just put more vegetables inside. So sometimes, I’d just watch her cook, and while watching her busy around, you’d feel especially warm in your heart. It’s just a stall, but every neighbor would be eating there, and they’d be eating there for decades, their children and even grand children would be eating there as well. Slowly, the stall would became a part of their emotional support, like maybe I won’t eat this noodles today, or perhaps she didn’t open today, it would became a kind of concern for that person. Eventually, it’s no longer a matter of a bowl of Xiao Mian, but a habit of life, an emotional interaction. I feel that this is the power of Chongqing delicacies in my heart.

Q: How was your childhood like?

Actually when you talk about my childhood, I really liked the environment I lived in when I was really young. Sometimes I would dream and I often dreamed of that period. When I was young, the early 90s era, multimedia wasn’t as advanced, there were no mobile phones or computers. There were probably arcade centers during that period of time, those that you needed to slot in coins, but children weren’t allowed to go, we had to sneak in. But mostly, it was our neighbors.

As a child, once we finish our homework, we could go downstairs and yell out “So-and-so, come down quickly”, and with a whoosh, all the children in the district would come down. Everyone would play hide-and-seek and then beanbag toss (TN: similar to cornhole), just all kinds of board games, any sort will do. All of these games are interactive. I still remember the shop on the first floor downstairs from my home, he modified the shop to become a snack stop, and all of the kids would buy snacks from him. I remember that real fresh milk was delivered on a bicycle, everyday freshly squeezed, and we would collect from him using our own bags or buckets. It’s just especially down-to-earth. I remember that time at around 5pm or 6pm,you’d hear yelling, as in that sort “selling milk” (TN: in Chongqing accent) and those fat sausages. Over there, fat sausages (TN: in Chongqing accent), all these kinds of finger food, you know? Wow, I miss those days.

And during that period, the smells of cooking would fill up the entire district, whether by mothers or grandmothers, they’d be cooking and the whole district would permeate with delicious smells. It was just especially wonderful, I feel that that period was really down-to-earth, everyone was especially vivid. Actually, I feel that our lives now are a bit cold, just a bit cold. Then, we would know all of our neighbors, but now, I doubt that we understand our neighbors well.

Q: What do you think of the phrase “pa erduo”? (TN: henpecked, literally means to be pulled by the ear)

Pa erduo (TN: In Chongqing accent), it means that the person’s ear is especially soft. It used to mean that the man is some kind of a loser, but I feel that now, this phrase is adorable. I feel that it’s a compliment, it means that Chongqing men treat their wives well, it’s a display of love for their wives, so I feel that it’s adorable. When I’m out, I am upright and indomitable, I can be your pillar of support, but when I’m back home, I will dote on you fully. I feel that it’s especially good, my father is like this. My father is especially cute sometimes, oh dear, I’m going to betray my father. He is especially cute, he would often tell my mother to let him maintain some dignity when they’re out, just especially cute. I feel that as a couple, they are quite good, just very standard, in my eyes, they are the standard Chongqing couple. Because actually my mother doesn’t talk a lot outside, she listens to whatever my father says, but once we are back home, my dad will give in to my mother most of the time.

Q: What is your relationship with your hometown?

To me, I feel that I am just very proud of her, she’s my pride. Maybe there are some youths, actually I was the same when I was a teenager, I thought about whether I should leave Chongqing to a bigger city. At that time, everyone was talking about Bei-Shang-Guang (TN: Beijing, Shanghai and Guangzhou), and I thought about whether I wanted to take a look there, for example design, obviously Bei-Shang-Guang is the forefront of China, spearheading. I thought about it as well, whether I should go and take a look, but when I was studying in the university, and then after I graduated, to me, I was slowly adjusting to the life in Chongqing, so I feel this differs from person to person. Hence at that time I felt that it was also quite fine remaining in Chongqing. If I can’t attain a top leader position outside, or become a highflier, then why shouldn’t I just stay grounded and do well in my own hometown? Actually those were my thoughts at that time, but as fate has it, I still left Chongqing. So I feel this is really just fate, just something mysterious. Now that there’s so much skyscrapers in Chongqing, so many office buildings, so many of them graded 5A, there are so many youths working in there, fighting for their dreams. There may be some people who doesn’t like it, some may be forced to work by their families, or the job was found for them by a relative, but I believe that most youths have an ambitious heart, and they want to fulfill the dreams they had when they were studying, their endeavors, and they are just fighting for their ideals. I feel that every city has its own charm, and Chongqing charm lies in the fact that it’s vivid. It’s very lively, it’s a young city, and everyone is fighting, for their lives, for their ambitions. She is a very lively city.

Q: Do you think you have the tenacity of a Chongqinger?

A: Very tenacious. I feel that I am a very tenacious person. Just when I encounter things, like I’ve lived in Chongqing for 23 years, well-adjusted to the living and working environment of Chongqing, and then suddenly I went to Beijing, to the entertainment business. It’s just worlds apart, two entirely different living environments. And truth be told, that period of time was quite tough. Whether it was singing, dancing or acting, to me those were all brand new things, but at that time I felt, since I’m already here, then I must do it well with all of my efforts. No matter how tough or how difficult, those were my choices, even if I had to crawl I had to finish the journey, that’s how I felt.

#xiao zhan #sean xiao #xiaozhan #肖战

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